By Kenneth Stewart Naval Postgraduate School
MONTEREY, Calif., December 8, 2015 — Naval Postgraduate
School student Army Maj. Dennis “DJ” Skelton, of Elk Point, South Dakota, has
been given a rather unfortunate moniker -- one he likely would prefer not to
have.
In 2011, following devastating injuries Skelton had suffered
in combat, he was coined the “Most Wounded Commander in U.S. Military History.”
But Skelton’s story, along with his fervent drive to
rehabilitate and return to his soldiers on the front lines years later, has
earned him an additional title: American hero.
Since then, Skelton has nearly completed the required work
for his master’s degree in Asia Pacific Studies in NPS’ Department of National
Security Affairs. In an example of life coming full circle, Skelton reflected
on how his story began.
“I joined the Army as an enlisted man, which brought me here
to Monterey where I studied Chinese to become an interrogator at the Defense
Language Institute,” Skelton said.
While at DLI, he said a couple of officers took an interest
in Skelton’s career and encouraged him to apply for the U.S. Military Academy
at West Point in New York. He did, was accepted, and became an infantry
officer. After graduation, he was stationed at Fort Lewis, Washington -- since
renamed Joint Base Lewis-McChord -- where he became the leader of a Stryker
platoon.
Deployment to Iraq
He wasn’t at Fort Lewis long, however. In September 2004,
just a year after graduating from West Point, he deployed to Iraq where he took
part in the Second Battle of Fallujah. There, Skelton and his platoon were
tasked with defending an important intersection outside the city.
Two months later, on November 6, 2004, Skelton and his
platoon were dug in at the intersection, and unbeknownst to his platoon, the
enemy had dug in as well, on the other side of the freeway. Upon observing the
insurgent activity, Skelton and his soldiers engaged.
“I was hit in that firefight … I happened to be standing
beside a cement pylon and the next thing I knew, it was pitch dark,” Skelton
recalled. "I couldn’t see anything. I couldn’t feel anything. I felt like
I was floating through space. One of the last things I remember was hearing one
of my soldiers say, ‘I think the lieutenant’s dead.’ At that time, a switch
flipped, and I began to feel the most intense pain of my life.”
Severe Wounds
Skelton’s soldiers jumped into action and dragged him out of
the fight. One resourceful soldier used a spent .50-caliber round as an airway
and preformed a field tracheotomy. Amazingly, less than 10 minutes later,
Skelton was in a nearby combat support hospital where doctors began to assess
the severity of his injuries.
And Skelton’s wounds, by any measure, were horrific. A small
scar on his left cheek remains where he was shot, but it is what happened after
the round pierced Skelton’s face that changed his life forever. Once through
his cheek, the bullet began to tumble, destroying his mouth and soft pallet
before exiting out of his right eye socket.
Sadly, the round to Skelton’s face was not the only injury
his body would endure. He was further injured when a rocket-propelled grenade
struck the pylon beside him.
“My left arm was destroyed. My hand was intact, but
everything from the wrist to the elbow was destroyed,” Skelton said. “The head
of the RPG broke and went through my right leg. My ammunition belt got hot and
began cooking off. Those rounds, along with various enemy AK-47 rounds, went
through my right arm and left shoulder.”
Skelton said his survival “is a testament to our body armor
and to our teamwork.”
He added, “In that environment, where soldiers were still
being shot at, they were calm, collected, and making decisions. And those
decisions, though unorthodox, contributed to me being able to live.”
Skelton’s parents received the call that every service
member’s loved one dreads. They planned to meet their son at Walter Reed Army
Medical Center, although he would be placed in a medically-induced coma. Inside
the hospital, Skelton’s doctors argued for the amputation of his right arm, but
his parents wouldn’t allow it. The arm was ultimately saved, but over the next
three years Skelton would endure more than 70 surgeries, and have to re-learn
how to write, eat and walk.
Recovery
From Skelton’s perspective, Walter Reed Army Medical Center
“was a pretty grim place” in 2005, and the resources were simply not available
to deal with the growing number of severely wounded service members arriving
from Afghanistan and Iraq.
“Walter Reed was quickly becoming overpopulated. I and
people like myself stayed in gurneys in hallways for long periods of time until
rooms became available … the ability to treat mass numbers wasn't there and
they had to prioritize,” Skelton explained.
“I sat for months confined to an inpatient bed … I wasn't
able to communicate, but I was able to listen. And I listened to the
conversations between my family and the doctors and nurses. I listened to all
of the questions they had, that nobody had an answer to,” he said.
Skelton recalled the “negative” atmosphere that pervaded the
hospital during those days, and said that even the doctors tasked with caring
for wounded service members fell victim to its bleakness.
“Doctors mean well, but they, too, can get sucked into that
negativity. There was no shortage of doctors to tell me all of the things that
I would never be able to do again … I’d never walk, never run again, never ski
again, that I’d never climb, that I’d never do any of the things that help me
to define myself and give me quality of life,” Skelton said.
He also said that even when service members left the
hospital and began their outpatient care, that there was very little motivation
for them to integrate back into their units or continue their careers.
“Over the years, it was pretty easy to be a Wounded Warrior
and remain a Wounded Warrior for years," Skelton said. "There was no
incentive to do anything but hang out, go to appointments, and get your Army
pay."
Determination
Skelton said he was determined to return to work.
“I was an inpatient for over half a year,” he said. “I was
an outpatient for 36 hours. When I became an outpatient, I went over to the
Fisher House, looked around, and was like, ‘Heck no. I don't want to be a part
of this,’ and hopped on a plane. I went back to my unit and joined the rear
detachment.”
Once back at his unit, Skelton went to work seeking answers
to all of the questions that his parents asked but remained unanswered while he
was in the hospital. The exercise was an effort to both provide needed
information to the families of other wounded service members, and an
opportunity to learn how to write again. The result of that exercise was the
creation of the “Our Hero Handbook,” published by the Naval War College and
offered free of charge to the families of wounded service members.
Unfortunately, on the heels of this success, Skelton would
suffer a setback when he was subjected to a medical evaluation board to
determine whether or not he was fit for service.
“That’s what the bureaucracy of the Army said needed to
happen,” Skelton said. “We went through the process, and based on my answers to
their questions, I could not meet any means by which I could be retained in the
Army. That was really hard for me, being told I could no longer contribute to the
mission.”
New Hope
Skelton said that began a dark period in his life. He said
he was living alone, drinking too much, and unable to do any of the things he
loved. It was at that time that he reconnected with a rock-climbing group that
had been a part of his life before he was injured. They tried, initially
without success, to get Skelton outdoors again.
“They were relentless and didn’t take no for an answer,”
Skelton said. The group challenged him to change his attitude and participate,
assuring him that they would find a safe way for him to climb.
“They told me, ‘We don't know how this is going to work. We
have no clue how you will climb with one good arm and one good leg, but if you
have the will, we will find a way to make it work.’
“It was a very empowering part of my life,” he continued.
“The power of community and the sense of belonging … had a powerful impact on
my recovery and helped me to look at my disability in a different light.”
Knocking on Doors
While his outlook improved, his desire to stay in the Army
remained as strong as ever. With the medical board process moving forward,
Skelton ended up back at Walter Reed for another surgery. When he got out of
the hospital, he says, he went door to door at the Pentagon looking for an
opportunity to continue his career.
At the Pentagon, Skelton met a senior officer who offered
him a job at Fort Greeley, Alaska. He went to work, but was still asking
questions and seeking answers. He started writing letters to people in
Washington, D.C. -- one of those individuals was then-Secretary of Defense
Donald Rumsfeld.
“My boss called me into his office one day and asked me if I
had been writing Rumsfeld. I said, ‘yes’ to which he replied, ‘Pack up your
stuff, you are going to D.C.,’” Skelton recalled.
In D.C., Skelton became part of a small team serving under
then-Deputy Secretary of Defense Paul Wolfowitz. That team, amongst other
things, created the first wounded warrior battalions. Eventually, Skelton was
given the opportunity to return to DLI, where he commanded a student company.
Giving Back
It was while working at DLI that Skelton recalled the
satisfaction he garnered from his return to outdoor activity, and founded
Paradox Sports. The nonprofit program, based in Boulder, Colorado, conducts
about 40 events throughout the year for veterans and nonveterans. Paradox
provides equipment and a supportive atmosphere, where severely disabled
individuals can participate in some of the same athletic endeavors they valued
so highly prior to their injuries.
“[The military health care system] was good at getting you
to where you could walk, and getting you out the door, but our military
population consists of young, physically-fit people; go-getters who enjoy
pushing themselves to the limit,” Skelton said. “To take high-energy,
self-motivated people, and say to them, ‘You’re good to go, you can walk’ …
that bothered me.
He added, “Other [adaptive sports groups] were great, but
what about someone with goals like climbing Mt. Rainier and skiing down it? I
asked myself questions like, ‘How do we help a guy with no arms to go ice
climbing?’”
Skelton’s advocacy work caught the attention of
then-Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Navy Adm. Mike Mullen, and he was
invited to serve at the Office of Warrior and Family Support, which aimed to
help veterans and their families reintegrate back into their respective
communities.
Skelton could have moved on and devoted himself to his
nonprofit organization. His disability rating would have qualified him for
veteran’s benefits in addition to a generous medical retirement. He was also a
decorated combat veteran with some friends in rather high places, and would
have found little difficulty in finding a job.
But what Skelton wanted was to go back to the infantry.
“Through all of [it], I realized I was still ‘DJ the Wounded Warrior’” Skelton
said. “I didn't join the military to do that.”
Return to the Infantry
He was told to go to speak to the Chief of Staff of the
Army. Luckily, things had changed a great deal since Skelton was initially
wounded and he was offered the chance to come back into the infantry on the
condition that he successfully completed the infantry’s commander’s career
course at Fort Benning, Georgia.
He did it, and was assigned to an infantry unit in Germany.
Coincidently, that unit was the same unit that he had served with in Iraq and
they had just deployed to Kandahar, Afghanistan. Once again, Skelton was in a
combat zone.
“When I showed up [in Afghanistan] there was a dire need for
commanders and I was given the opportunity to serve in the same company that I
was in when I was injured,” Skelton said. “There were about a half-dozen
soldiers who had been privates with me in Iraq who were now [noncommissioned
officers]. We had an amazing reunion.”
Skelton was thrilled to be back with his soldiers doing what
he loved. But, there were limitations to what he was able to accomplish, and he
knew it.
“There were a couple of events where I couldn't physically
perform,” he recalled. “My soldiers helped out and we had no casualties, but it
really bothered me. When I got home, I called the infantry [leaders] and said
‘It was a great experience, but this is not smart.’”
Skelton added, “I was able to bring my soldiers back,
something that I did not have an opportunity to do when I was in Iraq. It was
great for my recovery, but not so great for the organization.”
But it was also not time for Skelton to hang up his combat
boots. Continuing his desire to serve, he was selected for the Foreign Area
Officer program and was given the opportunity to spend a year in China before
coming to NPS for his graduate degree.
“It was great to be able to come and apprentice under some
of the professors here. It’s been a great opportunity,” Skelton said. “This is
where wounded warriors came after World War II -- a lot of people have
forgotten that.”
A story that started in Monterey has found its way back.
Skelton said he's not sure what's next, but there's little doubt that the most
wounded commander in U.S. military history has finally found a little peace.
Skelton is now married, and he and his wife recently welcomed a baby boy to
their family.
Posts
