CPL Kyle Carpenter (USMC, OEF Veteran, Medal of Honor Recipient)
“Courage is the first of human qualities because it is the quality which guarantees the others.”
CPL Kyle Carpenter receives the Medal of Honor from President Barack Obama.
There are some of those amongst us that stand as incandescent reminders of hope and light. In an often cruel, dark world they are exemplars of another way of life; living hopefully having been given a glimpse at the very summation of their own mortality. Kyle Carpenter has been to the brink and back at the hands of a ferocious enemy in a place very few would ever choose to go voluntarily. You might expect that after such a hellish night on that rooftop in Southern Afghanistan and the following three years of hospital bed purgatory, Carpenter would come out embroiled in bitterness; a shadow of the once happy-go-lucky rural Mississippi youth. But, expectation doesn’t always meet reality and in that place of exceptional behavior we can all find growth. Kyle’s message is brazenly universal.
“We all suffer. We all lose purpose. We all experience trauma. Don’t give up. You’re worth it.”
Coming from someone with the academic equivalent of a doctorate in understanding physical, mental, and emotional torment; this message should be disseminated amongst the entire world. Kyle Carpenter has felt loss on the most substantial of all levels and returned from that hellscape with a renewed sense of unadulterated optimism. But to understand Carpenter’s ideals and the development of his character arc it becomes necessary to recognize his vision. How can one go from being barely recognizable, without a pulse even, to the individual that now commands the attention of dignitaries, heads of state, perennial powerhouse football teams? How is that possible? How does a junior enlisted USMC machine gunner become the inspiration for an entire generation of the downtrodden and broken hearted? How does his message of pain, loss of purpose, death of a dream translate to those who’ve never donned the EGA (Eagle, Globe, and Anchor)? Let’s allow Kyle the space to explain his journey.
Can you take us back to your early days and what made you want to join the Marine Corps?
KC: I was born in Mississippi. But, after many moves, across many states, I wound up in South Carolina 13 years ago with my family so that’s home for me. I love South Carolina, but when we moved at the time, it was a very difficult move for me being well into high school. I say that and kind of emphasize the transitional aspects of my childhood because now looking back, you know, moves always turned out to be great for me. I always met incredible people, sometimes on the first day of school, and some of those people are my best friends to this day. But, those first days of the move were still difficult. Now, looking back, I'm so grateful for every move because they were all challenging for me. I was always facing the unknown, which now looking back, I'm thankful for because that kind of gave me a foundation to be able to confidently join the Marine Corps. A life of service in the military is all about the unknown. You don't know how bad you're going to get destroyed in PT the next morning. You don't know when your next deployment is or where you're going. You don't know if you're going to make it through that deployment or if you're ever going to see your family again. So again, a life of service is a life of the unknown and going confidently into that and embracing that unknown. I feel like I've always searched for a silver lining growing up and joining the military. But those unknowns became even greater after getting injured. The silver lining is that no matter where I moved, no matter how tough life was in the Marine Corps, no matter how bad my injuries were, I had the foundation to excel.
You know you make an interesting point. You're relating something to our audience, which everyone kind of gets and understands. You're not talking about being wounded. But that was one transition, right? You're talking about an earlier moment in your life, where you experienced transition. Going to a new school, moving to a new town, leaving your job. Everybody can associate with that. But what you are saying is that this aspect of transition can be scary, too.
KC: Transition is transition and to leave comfort is to leave the comfort. And like most things in life, to not have either the most perfect plan or to not know exactly what you're getting into can be scary. I feel like I can relate to anyone in that way. I don't want to jump ahead, but that's what I've realized about my journey is that, struggle is struggle, and transition is transition. Heartache is heartache. Mental suffering is mental suffering. It doesn't matter how you got to that point, or where you came from, or what led to that. We’re all in this together and all of us know transition at some point in our collective lives.
“Transition is transition and to leave comfort is to leave the comfort. Like most things in life, to not have either the most perfect plan or to not know exactly what you’re getting into can be scary. I feel like I can relate to anyone in that way.”
As we were walking through Charlotte you wrote those simple, yet very profound, words on that communal chalkboard. You wrote, “Impact the world.” Did you have a feeling growing up that you were going to do something that would impact the world? Some people talk about feeling almost like a sense of destiny, or they were going to do something greater than themselves. Did you feel that?
KC: Man, I've got chills right now in talking about this. The first thing, I'll say is I thought I had heard it all and every question out there. But, no one who ever had that insight or thought about that. I've never talked about this, because what you just said and described and asked me is something that is difficult to put into words. But, I have always felt that I was meant to accomplish something greater than myself. I still feel that even being a Medal of Honor recipient and serving in the way that I have. Maybe I’m being a little too ambitious or just hoping more than being realistic. But, I have always felt that there was just something more out there. Throughout most of my journey, I've never known what that was until it happened. I realized that it's not enough just to think about something or to feel something or to believe in something. Looking back I realized that even in all the most painful moments.
I will never forget all of those “new kid on the first day” feelings, all of the days, and years in the hospital, all of the goals that I set for myself that I didn't know if I would ever be able to accomplish for the rest of my life. After waking up in the state that I did, I had all those moments of extreme adversity in going through them but then after the fact I was able to dissect those moments, think about them, and I learned from them. Those difficult times are what has led me to those moments that I feel destined for. So, there was a lot of hoping but also knowing that if I just stayed true to myself, and kept taking those small steps I could achieve those dreams. I just knew that whatever I was trying to achieve, whether it was crossing the finish line of a marathon or speaking publicly I had to look in the mirror and truly believe I was capable of doing just that. Staying patient through the process is so important as well. When you don't have a plan, when you don't know the next step to take, and when you don't know if you're making the best decision, just stay patient. Stay true to yourself, and keep taking those small steps forward.
What do you remember about your mom, dad and growing up in South Carolina? What about that prepared you for the Marine Corps?
KC: My parents are truly incredible and all of my family has always loved me unconditionally. It didn’t matter if it was in the Marines or on the high school football field. They've always been my biggest fans. Even the simplest thing of having a hot meal on the table everyday just meant so much to me growing up. It was just another sign of that unconditional love. They gave me the foundation to go forward into any situation. Not only did they believe I could accomplish whatever I set my mind to but also made me feel that no matter what happened, I would still be loved and supported. So, I think that's one of the most important things. And then, again, the moving around played a big part. When I was on my last move to South Carolina and I didn't know anyone, I was kind of down and out mentally and emotionally. Even after getting hit with a hand grenade and spending three years in the hospital, I realized that at the moment, it wasn't the end all be all. But to have earned a starting spot on the football team that I worked so hard for being as small as I am at my high school in Tennessee, where I was working two years every day to not miss a workout and doing every single thing that I could to earn that starting spot; and then two weeks later to move and start all over again halfway through high school was devastating. So, when I moved to South Carolina, I found out about this youth group from a local church going on a mission trip for a week down to the Dominican Republic.
At that point, where I was in life, I thought to myself, “Why not?” So, I went. That trip really grew in me the perspective that I was not my circumstances, because the people I hung out with all week, were the happiest people I've ever met. They lived at the bottom of a landfill and to give them something as simple as a soccer ball, might as well have been handing them a hundred dollar bill. Not only that, but more importantly, that trip showed me that everywhere in the world is not like America and not how I grew up. Not everyone has the safety, freedom, and luxuries that I had. And, I was so fortunate to live in those circumstances. That just supplemented the foundation that I already had and thankfully opened my eyes to the world. All of those things played into my journey of not just wanting to serve, but wanting to serve something greater, a purpose, and commit myself and my life. Whether it was for four years, or 30 years, committing myself to something bigger than myself or any one individual could make a world of difference. So, I made the decision to join the Marine Corps specifically. Oral history told me it was the hardest experience I could have in the military. That's not actually been verified (laughs). But, beyond that, I had no idea how difficult the experience would be. I knew how many sprints I could run on the football field, I knew how much weight I could lift, and I knew that I could make it through uncomfortable situations. I knew all of these things. I still didn’t know myself 100% though and I had never been pushed to the point of uncertainty. I’d never been pushed so far, that I had to truly dig and look deep down inside, to know who I really was and who I could become. That made me want to join the Marine Corps.
I wanted anything or any experience that would push me to the next level of myself. The other part of that story is how hard it was on my mom and dad. There were weeks and months of my parents asking me, “Hey, are you sure you want to do this? Is it maybe that you just want to get out and get away and go explore the world? We'll send you on any trip you want. Let us know where you want to go and for how long. We will buy your plane tickets and you just take off for as long as you need to kind of get this bug out of your system.” (laughs) Of course, it wasn't that. So after many conversations, I sat them down and I said, “Listen, this is what I truly want to do, but I also believe it is the path for my life. I feel called to do this.” They loved and supported me through the entire decision but as parents out there can imagine your oldest son of three joining the Marine Corps in a time of two wars, going into the infantry and not having any knowledge of service or family members who have served; it was very tough on them. So, we were all very ignorant about what a life of service was except for my mom’s dad who joined the Navy. However, he’d died at a young age. Other than that, we just didn't know. That uncertainty can breed fear and in that situation, rightfully so. So, there were many talks and a process to all of this. I went through all of that, because I wanted their blessing. I didn't need it but I wanted it. I finally got them to a point where I felt they understood what I was doing and I had their blessing. As hard as it is, they agreed to look forward and go confidently forward together. At that point, I made the move and went to boot camp in March of 2009 to Parris Island.
So, your parents finally gave you that blessing. Did you feel free to commit? Did you ever feel in your discussions with your parents that they were just scared because you said they didn't really understand?
KC: I didn’t understand what service meant either. You don't know what you don't know. I had researched and looked up everything I could. I’d only known one or two Marines growing up and one of them really impacted me, in just the way he carried himself. The way he handled the people working under him where some of the things he did were not really in the job description, but he did them anyway. He would get down on the level with his lowest worker, and make them feel a part of that team. Other than that, I had no real understanding of service and we were in two conflicts at the time, militarily. To be going downrange, potentially, and not at least have a brother or uncle in the service made it hard to understand what I was really getting into. At least they could’ve said, “Hey, listen, you know, he's going to be taken care of by the medics or corpsmen that are working with him. If anything ever happens, he'll be well taken care of. Many Marines survive off the battlefield in these modern wars, because we have much better tools.” Even being able to tell my parents, “He'll be able to talk to you when he deploys.” Just simple things that would have been a little bit of a comfort, we didn’t have so that made my parents uncomfortable I’m sure. I probably should have been a little more scared than I was (laughs). But when we had that talk where I showed them I was serious they said to me, “Hey, listen, we're here for you. We'll be here waiting for you. We love and support you. We're going to do that through your entire journey.” That's a commendable strength, too.
When you got to Parris Island, did you feel more of that when you got there? Did you begin to feel that pressure?
KC: I remember that monster of a human being ripped the door open on that van, that drill instructor told us to get out and stand on the yellow footprints. I thought he’d ripped the van door off its hinges (laughs). From that point it was surreal, and kind of, I don't know if “scary” is the word but it was as surreal as it gets. I was instantly getting what I wanted through this experience I didn’t know I could make it through. I didn’t even know if I was going to make it through the day before this guy killed me, but it was just invigorating that I was there. I was doing it. And, you know, a lot of people think that people serving in the military might've joined for money, or they did it for “fill in the blank reasons.” I mean, there are hundreds of them out there who do join for that but it is very difficult to pass the rigorous standards not only physically, but mentally. If you’ve been arrested or been in any trouble at all you have to get waivers, and go through a stringent process to even be able to go to Parris Island, and try to become a Marine. And, that's true for all branches of the military.
There are obviously different standards across the board for what branches prefer, but ultimately, you don't just go and join. Some people wait around in the delayed entry program, which for any of you not familiar, that’s where you sign on the dotted line, and you technically kind of join the military. But, you're in this delayed entry program until you get your ship date for boot camp. I've talked to Marines that were in the delayed entry program for a year and a half, almost two years. You don’t just earn the title of “Marine” right away. There's always going to be the few in every group that are in it for the wrong reason. But, you know, I was finally there. But see, that is how serious it is, you know, for anyone reading. I mean, it's crazy to have those concerns at 17. I remember thinking, “Am I even going to make it through my four year enlistment?” But, I was there standing on those yellow footprints and I was beginning my journey. So, I’m sure I was a little scared but to be there in that moment standing in those yellow footprints but it was just surreal and actually beautiful. I was just super pumped to be there. Whatever came my way, I was just hungry to get through it or let it destroy me. I knew that no matter what the case I would keep moving. There was just no stopping me, at least in my head (laughs).
What do you remember about any specific moments in bootcamp that might’ve had a profound impact on you?
KC: The thing is, I don't remember too many individual moments. You have to make yourself not laugh. Every smile is an hour of pain. This was a very impactful lesson for me. I had this drill instructor and in Marine Corps boot camp, you have a senior drill instructor who's been there, done that, about to be done with his tour on the drill field. Then you have about three drill instructors under the main drill instructor for 40 to 70 recruits. This is actually their title. They have three “kill hats” under the senior drill instructor (laughs). They're always running around soaked in sweat in whatever uniform they’re wearing because their only job is to run around like complete mad men. Look up YouTube videos of Marine Corps Drill Instructors if you don’t believe me (laughs). They carry this intensity for over three months where they are training 60 recruits and some of those 60 recruits think they’re bigger than the process. Some of them can't even get drill movements right. Some are not super athletic, so they fall behind on ruck marches and these drill instructors are running from the front to the back of the platoon, screaming. Just imagine screaming as loud and as crazy as you can, for 15 hours a day, every day for over three months. Then you get done, you get a two week break, and then you go back on another cycle and do another three plus months. All you do for over three years is take “nasty civilians,” as they say on the street, and transform them into United States Marines. That's incredible. One of my kill hats came to my Medal of Honor ceremony. I actually got a picture of him, and I brought two drill instructors that really did a lot for me at the time, but even tenfold more now. I realized what they did for me.
So, I have a picture of them at the Marine Corps Museum in Washington D.C., destroying me like I was recruited, with the Medal of Honor. They were telling me when I asked them, “No, we can't do that. We can't do that.” (laughs) I assured them they could. It was Sergeant Luke Billingsley who made me one of his favorite victims in boot camp. It's important to note that I was humbly picked as a squad leader in boot camp. They don’t pick you because you’re in the top three or four in the platoon. It's not about who can run the best, and I didn’t do the most pull ups or push ups. They don’t pick the guy who they think will most gracefully get through boot camp. They pick a certain kind of guy who will get destroyed for every bad decision made by his squad (laughs). Every day, it was his mission to just completely destroy me. I went through over three months of this. He was always writing me up for everything, even when I didn't do anything wrong. It could be as simple as asking to make a call or go to the head (bathroom). He loved telling me, “Nope, go sit down, and come back when you can scream louder,” or just anything Corps related that he wanted to nag me about. So, I finally made it to graduation day which felt like an eternity away from the moment I started boot camp. After you graduate, your parents can come into the squad bay and see where you slept and where you got destroyed for the past three months (laughs). I was sitting there with my parents and Sergeant Billingsley came over, still looking mad as hell.
I thought, “C’mon man, I graduated. Please leave me alone.” He said, “Hey Carpenter, come over here.” He took me back behind the steel bunk beds against the wall. He essentially told me that he was proud of me and he was the way he was on me because he not only knew I could handle it, but he saw potential in me. He took his campaign cover off, what is unofficially known as a Smokey Bear cover, and he unscrewed his Eagle, Globe and Anchor out of it, and handed it to me. He wished me the best of luck in a very profound and beautiful way. He said he hoped our paths would cross again one day. I just tell that story, because you just never know how those experiences are going to shape your future.
So, what was it like going from there to SOI (School of Infantry)? Were you still getting beaten up after that?
KC: Yeah, but things transitioned from boot camp to SOI (School of Infantry). At that point, you’ve learned enough to know how to be a Marine. Above all, I knew I had earned the title of Marine. Then, when you go to SOI, they might not have been screaming at you but every single week, you're there for the two and a half months where you’re just consistently training. Even more than that you are learning how to operate and survive in a combat environment. So, the difficulty shifted in a different way. It’s incredibly difficult to go out on a training iteration, dig a fighting hole in the ground, in rain or shine in 20 degrees or 100 degrees. It’s even tough to live out there, sleep in that hole all night, then wake up in the morning and scrape ice off your sleeping bag. You do all that just so you can unzip it and get out of the bag. That’s mentally difficult. Even if you're not training you have to sit there in the elements on post and stay aware. It doesn’t matter that the shift is midnight to 4 a.m. When no one else is up, you have to sit there and stay vigilant in case your instructors or your team leaders come by to ask you questions. In those moments, they’re just teaching you to live in misery so you can better understand the combat environment. I was learning how to be uncomfortable and not really care. That prepared me for my time in Afghanistan and the very real possibility that I might not shower for the entire seven months. Fortunately, the Marine Corps softened their hearts a little bit and they realized they cared about us and they sent us cots to sleep on. But until that point, I mean, we were just sleeping on the ground. Every single day, sunup to sundown was just a non-stop, vicious fight for survival.
3/6 deployed first, and they did the initial invasion and push. I believe that was called Operation Moshtarak. And so they kicked it off. And, and, at the end of their seven month deployment we came to relieve them. So, you know, it was just as bad if not a little worse than, you know, not not when they got there. But in seven months, things don't just get better and calm down. So they were still on the up and up when we got there. I don’t want to take anything away from 3/6 because they had a rough deployment as well. When we got done with SOI, all the Marines in my SOI class either went to 2/9 or 3/6. Eric went to 3/6 and when he got dropped at the unit they were already on pre deployment leave. He got a few days to go home, then left to deploy with 3/6 and he was their first Marine killed by a sniper. But what you're saying is absolutely still true, though, that the intensity just kept building.
So when we got there, you know, the enemy had stepped back but were really just watching how we operated. They were scouting out our bases or positions that we were holding, figuring out how far they could push, examining our rules of engagement so they could try to maximize casualties, but minimize the retaliation against themselves. Regardless, it was an extremely violent and kinetic deployment. When I got to Walter Reed, 3/5 and 2/9 occupied an entire floor of the hospital. They always put your units on your hospital door and you could see all the signs read 3/5 or 2/9. 3/5 was dealing with a ton of IED attacks and had a lot of amputees. They were dealing with IEDs every couple feet on their patrols. I mean, you couldn't escape them. I cannot imagine that. I mean, I was already terrified but I can’t imagine thinking about getting blown up every single step. So, we weren’t dealing with as much of an IED threat. We had to handle constant firefights and being ambushed regularly. That was our environment.
That first gunfight was hard to explain. You can never anticipate or understand that feeling until it happens. It's so surreal that it's almost unfathomable. All these rounds were impacting all around me and it was just a strange feeling. That first mission I caught a ricochet in my lower back. I thought I was going home after that first fight. It didn't seem real. I didn't immediately react and I didn’t know how to handle the situation. It's just something that whether you're an 18 year old on your first deployment or you've been in 20 years, and it's your ninth deployment it’s tough to comprehend. It's so intense no matter what. You never know what that is like until it happens.
I just thought, “Man, what a great start to this seven months. It's been 14 hours and we are already getting hit.” It took roughly 10 days to go from Cherry Point, North Carolina to the little mud hut compound, where we were going to be living and operating for that whole deployment. We got brought in on a helicopter because there's not really any roads or any infrastructure that could support any vehicles. There were Marines that had already been killed where the side of a canal or a bank would collapse and those Marines would end up drowning. And so to prevent that, you know, the standard operating procedure became, at least in Marjah where we were, we were so far out that you know, it was only foot patrols for our entire deployment. We were inserted by helicopter and I remember being handed belts of ammo. The crew chief was yelling and the helicopter rotors were so loud. The crew chief leaned over and handed me maybe a 200 round drum. And he leaned over and said, “We're going to take contact as we're landing.” I’m thinking, “Do I at least have a chance to get out of the helicopter and have a fair chance to fight?” That was my first really surreal moment where my thoughts are being interrupted by someone telling me this and handing me a 200 round drum. Now it’s real. You know, before that I had this weird focus but I was also in a daze. I had an opportunity to experience this because of the ride over there on the helicopter.
But, it was a weird mix of focus and being in a daze because I’m having this realization that I’m being inserted into the worst combat zone on Earth. Like, obviously, I’d never done this. I remember looking out the back of the helicopter as we were flying. I remember looking out, and we were flying low and fast. So, I could see every field, every farmer, every canal, every tree line, every road, every village. And I couldn't help but think about 10 days before this moment, giving my mom a hug for potentially the last time. I was wondering as we rode on the bus to the airport if that might have been my last hug. As we were on the bus, I was wondering which one of those Marines was not going to be around on the ride home. So as I was flying into that insert, I thought, “Man, am I going to step on an IED on that road? Am I going to bleed out in that field? Am I going to get shot and die on that tree line?” I wasn’t scared but it was just so surreal trying to process what I was about to get into. From the moment I was riding on the helicopter until the moment I was hit it was roughly four months. My time there went quickly in a lot of ways. It was strange but I realized the risk. I knew what was happening, initially, when we first started taking fire. You can hear the whisper of the rounds, and that’s how you know they’re getting real close. Everyone thinks there’s a cracking sound. It’s much more dangerous when it’s a whisper. In those moments though, you’re only able to really process like 90% of what’s actually happening. I wish I’d heard more of the “crack” of the weapons firing because that’s how you know it’s probably not that close or accurate. But I heard a lot of whispering and that’s how I knew it was all too close for comfort.
“That first gunfight was hard to explain. You can never anticipate or understand that feeling until it happens. It’s so surreal that it’s almost unfathomable. All these rounds were impacting all around me and it was just a strange feeling. That first mission I caught a ricochet in my lower back. I thought I was going home after that first fight. It didn’t seem real. I didn’t immediately react and I didn’t know how to handle the situation. It’s just something that whether you’re an 18 year old on your first deployment or you’ve been in 20 years, and it’s your ninth deployment it’s tough to comprehend. It’s so intense no matter what. You never know what that is like until it happens.”
Kyle explains a piece of the aircraft hanging on the wall of his Charlotte studio apartment. A piece of the aluminum frame was given to him from the same MEDEVAC helicopter that rescued him.
In those four months you were over there, did you guys take a lot of casualties? And if you did, what was the feeling of that?
KC: We initially took a few casualties and I heard those over the radio. I had seen a few and I don’t want to come off as insensitive but they were usually just rounds to the extremities. You know, they could still hobble with help and get to the MEDEVAC (Medical Evaluation). They were eating ice cream two days later. But the first real casualty that I saw was so bad that I knew if he lived he’d be a double or maybe a triple amputee. I learned a great lesson in this moment and I want to make sure everyone knows that this Marine survived. It really showed me the absolute devotion that a corpsman has towards his Marines. The corpsman started dragging him and his leg, boot and all, just stayed on the ground and slid right out of the bottom of his camouflage pants. I was ready for anything to come at that moment but for a split second I froze because of the severity of what I saw. At 19 years old I had never seen anything close to this bad. I thought to myself, “This is terrible.” It was so severe that it reminded me of the movies. It seemed so vivid that it was almost like the best special effects and makeup crew had made it look like this. There was a split second where I couldn’t comprehend what I was seeing. I had to shake myself out of that feeling and I did because I knew I needed to be ready for whatever happened after that.
We knew another attack would be coming and we had about 45 minutes before the MEDEVAC would show up. He used those last few moments where he was with us on the ground to teach us something incredible about leadership. He’s one of those guys now that makes me look bad in everything he does because he’s always giving back with everything he has. I tell his story to corporate crowds, and anyone I can because it's just amazing. He gave us his last words of leadership and he told us to take care of ourselves. His last few moments on the ground with us he used to tell us to remain focused. And then the last thing he said was to look after his wife and his daughter. His wife was pregnant with their first child and she was due in the next couple months while we were still going to be deployed. Now he’s outnumbered by his wife and two daughters at home (laughs). I’m forever grateful for that lesson in the moment and for the fact that he survived.
Once we got him on the MEDEVAC helicopter we patrolled back to our patrol base. Fast forward to about seven hours later and I was on radio watch listening to the comms to keep an ear on our guys. We had four squads and every day the squads changed out who had certain duties. Every single day, we sent out an early morning patrol, a daybreak patrol, a late morning to early afternoon patrol, a late afternoon patrol, and then a night patrol. We wanted to effectively show the locals we were really giving an effort, that we’d be there for them, to push the bad guys out of the area and hopefully build up infrastructure so that they could have the safety, security and freedom that they wanted. A lot of it was just showing them, “Hey, we're here for you and you should help us on this mission to make things better for you. It's not a bad thing to live simply or live in your mud hut with your farm animals or whatever. If there’s any hope of doing that in peace and not being oppressed, we need you to help us.” I was there for that mission and I believed in that mission. I would’ve been satisfied if I’d died doing that because I knew it was the right thing to do.
Anyways, that’s some context as to why we patrolled as much as we did. I was on standby listening to the radio at night when a massive IED went off. I had no idea what happened at that moment. It could’ve been a farm animal for all I knew that stepped on the IED. It could’ve been a civilian and that would’ve been terrible but the Taliban wouldn’t have cared even a little bit. I was just hoping it wasn’t one of our guys. It was a ways off but I knew that our Marines were quite a ways down the road. Anyways, this IED was so massive that I remember being intently on edge, holding the radio waiting for any info to come in. I remember seeing a ton of dust, rattle and fall from the walls. It was that massive of an explosion. One of my very good buddies named Dakota, from Louisiana, who was maybe 18 or 19 years old took his last breath on earth at that moment. I was on the base and safe in that moment and I wasn't seeing the casualty. I remember hearing over the radio that they were looking for any sign of him to the point where they had their flashlights out, just looking to see if they could find any part of him. That’s just one example of a day in the life in Marjah.
I learned that no matter how present you are, how much you are there in that moment, that you still have a very small part to play. How that translates is that even here in America as a civilian during some type of mass shooting or a bad car crash there is only so much you can do in that moment. No matter how many times you go through something like that, you can’t help but feel so small in that moment. You learn those lessons on the battlefield. I think it’s important that civilians hear these stories. I think it can be almost tougher dealing with it back here, because you live in such a bubble. We live in padded hallways, get our coffee at 7am every day, sit down in our comfortable chairs, then slide up to our desks and work the same schedule every day. Not to say that people don't have hard lives because those exist even in a first world country, but a lot of our problems are peripheral problems. But then when you come face to face with death, or something happens very quickly, you realize that is the great equalizer. We all die. I had to deal with experiences like that for four months, non stop. You know, those led to the ultimate moment, my moment on the roof that day, November 21, 2010. I’ll give a little context to that moment. About a day and a half before I got hit my squad got tasked with pushing south, and taking over a new compound in another village. We had the job of taking that compound and controlling the ground. At that point, we were over halfway through our deployment. And in a couple of months, a new unit of Marines was going to come in and relieve us and we were going to go home.
But, just like with anything in life, I believe, and the Marine Corps believes you should leave it better than you found it. That plays directly into expanding your area of operations and maintaining that area. And if you keep doing that every deployment, you know, we expand a little bit, the next unit comes in, they expand. When you do this properly, you're not only pushing the bad guys out, but you're creating stability in that region to hopefully lead to schools being built, or, you know, logistics open up enough to where all the kids can have shoes on their feet, or clean drinking wells dug for them. And so that was the reasoning behind us pushing out further, taking over other compounds. We had Marines all over Marjah. If you’re able to do that the right way, you leave a pretty big footprint for incoming units to expand. And so we were going south, and those three villages to the south of us, we nicknamed them shady, shadier, and shadiest because the fighting intensified the further south we got. If we were patrolling south, we always took extra ammo, extra water and we were ready for a fight. And so we got tasked with this mission. Essentially, the mission was to take over this small village. We knew we’d have to establish a lookout position in this area and survive for five days before we received relief. Safe to say we drew the short straw (laughs). We packed our bags, took off, and halfway into the mission we started getting shot at. Our packs were so heavy. We had to look like slow moving turtles out in this field. All you could do is take a knee and hope that they were not accurate because there wasn't really any running with the packs that we had on. So that's what started how this mission started off. Fast forward about a day later and it was the morning of the day that I got hit, November 21st. We started getting attacked and getting shot at with small arms fire. At about 7:30 that morning I remember hearing those rounds and thinking something along the lines of, “Well, here we go again, another day in Afghanistan.” I don't remember anything until later that afternoon, when me and my best friend, a fellow Marine, were on top of a roof together.
And for anyone listening that's trying to get a visual image, go to Google Earth or Google Maps, type in “Marjah” and get the aerial view and landscape feel for what I'm talking about. These compounds essentially are just a big square courtyard with no roof. The families live inside these compounds with their farm animals, crops they’re growing, or the drugs they’re keeping for the Taliban. They usually have a small room built into a corner of these compounds where they can sleep at night. If it's hot during the summer, you know, the walls will bake all day, and that builds a type of reverberating heat throughout the night. If it's really cold, obviously, you want to be inside out of the cold. Well, myself and Nick, were on top of the roof of the compound. There was one other roof on this compound as well. It was on another corner built on the inside and it was a four foot by four foot room that they used to dry out the poppy or marijuana, those cash crops that were fueling this Taliban insurgency. That's why the fighting was so intense. There were so many fighters in the area of Marjah because it was like, you know, the Midwest here. It was the most fertile area where they grew all the poppy, that they converted to heroin so that they could sell that to buy weapons. The Taliban converged in this area to protect all their assets. So, the day before I was hit, I was on top of this little roof. My buddies and I were pulling four hour shifts and it was my turn. And so it was getting close to sundown, but my buddies would fill sandbags.
They would throw them up to me. I was on watch and looking out. When they threw up a sandbag, I would just move it and stack the wall in front of me a little higher, and continue to build that wall throughout the day. I was killing two birds with one stone by being on watch and building this defensive position. Well, snipers, and hand grenades, ironically, were actually a very rare occurrence on this deployment. It was mostly just straight up gunfights. At that time, I didn’t know it, but we were about to get in a wild firefight. I started getting shot at by a sniper while I was on post and that was another surreal moment. I knew from the first couple shots that it was a single bolt action rifle. So, I had a second or two before he could put another one in the chamber. Thankfully, when he started shooting at me, I had built a semi circle, roughly three sandbags high. So if I laid down flat on my stomach, I was covered just enough to not get hit. When he would shoot, or while I was shooting, my buddies would throw sandbags up to me and I would reach over to the edge, grab the sandbag, pull it back to me, and he would shoot. Between rounds I’d hurry up and stack another and lay back down. I could feel the third impact of the round against the sandbags that I was laying up against. So after a little while of that, it started getting dark and the Taliban doesn’t really fight much in the dark because we have night vision capabilities and they don’t. My staff sergeant who had been to Ramadi like three times when it was bad came over to the edge of the compound to talk to me. I think this was his 10th or 11th deployment overall. He said something like, “Hey, Carpenter, how’s the sunbathing going there,” and I'm getting shot at while he’s saying this. I replied, “Going good. Yeah, thanks for asking.” (laughs) He was like, “Hey, come on, get off the roof when you get a chance and we'll keep building this post after the sun goes down.” So, I grabbed my SAW and just ran straight off the roof.
No exaggeration here... 30 - 40 seconds later a rocket came in, and completely vaporized every sandbag and took out the entire post that I was on. It damaged the roof so badly later that night, there was a Marine back on post and we just heard a string of very cleverly put together profanity. And we were like, “Dude, what's going on?” The roof had just completely collapsed. It had collapsed with him on it and he was just laying in the rubble of this roof, just surrounded by dust, debris, and rubble. He was okay. But I tell you all of that to say that we were down one of our two vantage points. So, the next day, myself and Nick, were on top of this one vantage point remaining. And again, I don't remember anything up until the point right before we got hit. I remember that Nick and I were talking right before it happened. We were going through different scenarios like, “Hey, if they come down this road, this is how we'll react. If they come out of this area this is how we’ll react.” We were just trying to be as prepared as possible for any scenario. I remember joking with him, and we were at the very end of our four hour shift. I remember asking him (Nick), 'Hey, what happens when a grenade comes up here?' I asked him that because we were attacked with grenades the whole day before right after we’d taken the compound. He said to me, 'My ass is going right off this roof.' I said, 'Dude, I'm right behind you.' That’s the last thing I remember. I don't remember seeing the grenade, hearing the grenade, or even thinking about it. All I remember is that two seconds of conversation. I don't remember seeing the grenade, hearing the grenade, or even thinking about it. All I remember is that two seconds of conversation. And then I remember I felt like I got hit really hard in the face and my ears are ringing so badly, just as they are at this very moment. My vision immediately was like a TV with no connection, just white and gray static.
Immediately, that confusion and disorientation set in and I first tried to kind of push myself up and shake it off. Then I realized I couldn't feel either one of my arms from the shoulders down and then that kind of led to some panic, but I was still more just trying to figure out what had happened. I was thinking, “Okay, last thing I remember, I was in Afghanistan.” But I think I remembered being on a roof, and just thinking that somehow I’d fallen off the roof onto an IED. The last thing I can remember is being up there. But then that was interrupted by what I thought was my buddy's messing with me and pouring warm water all over me. I thought, “Dude, that’s so messed up. Guys, come on. I'm in this banged up state and you're just like messing with me and pouring water all over me.” Again, keep in mind, I was very disoriented and confused. But that final piece allowed the other ones to fall into place. And I realized that it wasn't warm water but it was blood and I was profusely bleeding out and I felt it over every inch of my body. I had this feeling that’s really hard to explain unless you’ve been there but it was just this feeling of being so tired. Actually, it was more than being tired. I was feeling drained so quickly. This tiredness was slowly consuming me. I knew that my time unfortunately was coming to a close and so I thought about my family, specifically my mom and how devastated she was going to be when she got the news that I was not going to survive to make it home. And then with my last second I said a quick prayer for forgiveness for anything I'd done wrong in my life. And then I faded from consciousness and the world for what I thought was the last time on this earth.
To my very happy surprise, I woke up five weeks later at Walter Reed which was at the time called Bethesda National Naval Medical Center. The first thing I saw was out of the one good eye I had left. My first sight at this new life and bonus round I had received, was seeing Christmas stockings that my mom had hung on my hospital room wall. There was four inches of snow on my hospital room window. When I faded I was on a hot dusty rooftop on the other side of the world and it was 85 or 90 degrees. Then, more confusion ensued (laughs). All my doctors were wearing camouflage. These were some of the greatest surgeons in the world. I'm asking questions immediately like, “Hey, do you know what you're doing? Are you sure you know how to do this?” (laughs) They were just totally offended I’m sure. I got a lot of answers like, “I'm the number three orthopedic hand surgeon in the world.” I was a junior Marine though who’d only been in the Corps for like a year, year and a half. All I knew about medicine was our Navy Corpsmen. Doctors and surgeons were supposed to be in white lab coats as far as I knew. Internally I was thinking that these doctors in camo would be at the level of equipment the Marine Corps gave us, which isn’t good. I thought to myself, “You probably shouldn’t have even woken me up.” (laughs) I thought, “I'm a goner. No hope here.” I’m picturing them speaking to me like, “Yeah, we're using this machine to fix your arm and you know, it was built in 1941. (laughs) It only has a little rust on it. It should be good.” I’m thinking, “Geez, I probably have about a 50/50 shot at best to make it out of here alive.”
Kyle stands with Josh Smith, founder of Montana Knife Company
“I remember asking him (Nick), ‘Hey, what happens when a grenade comes up here?’ I asked him that because we were attacked with grenades the whole day before right after we’d taken the compound. He said to me, ‘My ass is going right off this roof.’ I said, ‘Dude, I’m right behind you.’ That’s the last thing I remember.”
Carpenter speaks with Marine Recon Veteran Rudy Reyes, and his girlfriend Jade Struck.
So what now? What was it like to feel that?
KC: At first it bothered me that I couldn't remember. But that evolved more quickly into just being amazed and just so beyond grateful that I even woke up. And once I kind of grasped how just crazy it was that I woke up. You know, it's never bothered me since that I can't remember. But, from eyewitness accounts, and statements and testimony, in a very, very thorough years-long 252-page investigation done by the Marine Corps and Department of Defense, it was concluded that I attempted to cover the blast and shield the fellow Marine that was with me on that roof from the grenade after it was thrown.
How powerful is that love between fellow service members, and in your case, Marines?
KC: A few months before we deployed Nick was even more junior than me. But the time we spent training together, and even being the junior Marine, he was such a professional. First of all, we went on every single patrol together, even when we were just like, “Oh, we'll help out this squad and fill in and go on patrol if they need bodies.” He was a point man on every patrol so that just let other guys know how serious he was about actions and not words. He was out there being the example for guys that had been there and done that. That's incredible. I mean, he was just and still is, an amazing Marine. He knew his stuff. I always knew he was there. He was a “first in and last out” kind of guy. He’s awesome. But yeah, I didn't know him too long before I was wounded. But what we had gone through up until that point, even in a shorter amount of time, was years and years if not a lifetime worth of love and trust. It was forged in the refining fires of combat.
I mean that wholeheartedly but I don't recommend jumping on any grenades (laughs). I was hoping maybe we could add a couple more seconds to get off that roof (laughs). Before we move on, I just want to make a point about what you said. You talked about how you never would know how to react or what you would do. I’ve talked about that a lot. You know, whether I'm speaking to a group of middle school kids or a roomful of Fortune 500 CEOs. Because you're right, you don't know what you would do, or how you would react. I didn't either. I was asked seconds before it happened how I’d react and I told Nick that it would be my response to run. But, that’s the beauty of the human spirit. You never know how, when or to what capacity, you're going to step up in the smallest or biggest way in combat or in life. And to just be there and be willing, even if it's five minutes of your time, after you've clocked out at work, to give the time, effort and love to someone else. You never know how big that is going to be or how heroic and even life saving that's going to be for someone. That’s why people are so amazing. It’s not just in combat either. You hear about the elementary school teachers that laid on top of their students during tornadoes, or the Marines that aren’t even on active duty on their off weekend, you know, rushing into waters and saving someone drowning and drowning themselves. You see the firefighters on 9/11 in the last photos, where they were charging upstairs knowing that they most likely wouldn’t survive. And the miracle is, people do it anyway.
When I woke up in the hospital, that really was the beginning of this journey of self-discovery. I guess I got what I asked for when I wanted to be pushed to another level (laughs). Sometimes even I don't know. That journey I’m on now really started the moment that opened my eyes. And they might, I guess, they're very similar, but I wouldn't say it was frightening. I would say that it was very daunting. I was not only knocked out for five weeks, but when I woke up, everything in my body had atrophied. I couldn't really move. My arms were tied up to poles over my bed so they could stay propped up. They had to be propped up because they’d been cut open to keep the swelling down and they had to drain. The swelling had gotten so bad that it was starting to cut off my circulation. So, my hands were tied up and I couldn't move without getting extremely nauseous because I had been still for so long. You know, I had a trake in (tracheostomy tube) for almost two months so I had to breathe through a little straw on my neck. By the time I get enough air in without panicking, I'm trying to breathe it out and get the next breath in. So, throughout this I was always fighting my machines and the pain associated with them. The only part of me that wasn’t injured was from my left knee down to my ankle. Everything else was damaged goods. That's very daunting just to wake up and be in that state. It was on a completely different level too because I was then being told, “It’s going to take us two to three years to put Humpty Dumpty back together again.” (laughs) It was going to be two years of surgeries before I could even have the doctors sign off on me going to the med board for review.
So, you're really at the mercy of them just doing all the surgeries that they need to or they feel they need to. To be told, while your buddies are still in the Marines, thankfully not injured; that your life is being put on hold for two to three years is extremely tough. While I was sitting in the hospital, they were getting to be Marines and do all of those Marine things together on deployments. Or, I would look at the other side of my life. All my friends I was in high school with, were in college at the time and they're going on their spring break jobs, they're spending time with family, with not a care in the world. And look, I understand that other people have difficulties as well. It’s just a tough pill to swallow, in my case, to be kind of stuck in a holding pattern really struggling physically, mentally, and emotionally. I had to just come to terms with the fact that the world keeps spinning, no matter what you're going through, no matter what happens to you, no matter how hurt you are, the world keeps spinning. I had to realize that. I'm grateful that I immediately compartmentalized and went into short term vision, instead of immediately going to the thought of, “Oh, my gosh, I have 40 surgeries and three years left.”
Oftentimes, I felt like I wouldn’t even make it through the year. I was just trying to survive. So, I was just trying to make it to the next minute for months, if not the whole first year. I just got funneled into focusing on and being forced to only focus on the smallest of goals. My first goal was to raise my arms, then I wanted to sit up in the bed, then I wanted to stand up and walk. On the other side of these accomplishments, I would have surgery, and in the beginning, it was multiple operations a day, and then it went to every other day. Then, it would be a surgery every couple of weeks. Once I got past all that, it was about a surgery once a month. But you know, I can only really focus on that next day or our therapy, or that next surgery. And so I'm thankful that it was so overwhelming that ironically, I didn't get overwhelmed. Even squeezing three-pound dumbbells, I would treat it as a milestone because that’s what I needed mentally. It’s not that bad when you think of it through the scope of, “I didn’t die on that rooftop.” I truly feel like every single day is a bonus round. It’s hard for me to ever feel out of the fight when every day is really just a bonus. Even the struggle is a victory in my eyes because I’m fortunate to even be alive. Less than 48 hours ago, I was floating around a coral reef in the middle of the Caribbean, ocean snorkeling.
Whatever happens throughout my day, there is not a moment where I’m not conscious of the fact I shouldn’t even have the opportunities to do the things I do or meet the people I’ve met. If those final moments really would have been my final moments, I would have never gone skydiving or attempted it. I would’ve never been able to even attempt a marathon. Maybe it was because of the blood loss but I didn't regret what happened or what led up to those moments. And, I want to be clear that I believed in why we were there in helping our fellow human beings. But after waking up, and feeling like I was down to my final moments it's just like, man, life is beautiful. I'm just so thankful to be here. Even the hardest times in the hospital were worth it. I remember them having to stick me four or five times to find a vein just because my veins were so damaged and hard to find. It was that way because my veins were also damaged from all the surgeries. I remember sitting in the room during a stretch where I was going through ten surgeries and just crying with my mom.
I knew I could get through it but it was still hard. Even in the lowest moments of what I was going through I was still alive and that was something to be happy about. You know, sometimes words just can't quite convey what something was like. When my parents got the call, they’d just come back from Sunday school. The message was actually left on their answering machine that they needed to contact the Marine Corps regarding their son. They didn't go into specifics, but they still knew something was up. And so they called the Marine Corps back, and they got a very rough idea of what happened. They listed off my injuries, which some were accurate, and some weren't. They gave my parents one big list. My dad was strong, and he knew that he had to immediately get the logistics together and make all the moves to get the family in the car and take off towards Walter Reed. But when they got there, the roles reversed, My mom had been out of her mind upset. I mean, I can't even imagine, and I'm not even a parent. Just to hear about someone you love after getting this news, and then you don't hear from anyone for seven days. Then, I rolled through the doors of Walter Reed, which was seven days of a journey, where I died three times, where I was resuscitated three times, where I already had ten plus surgeries, in hospitals throughout Afghanistan, and Germany before I even got to the states. I went through three combat trauma hospitals in Afghanistan, and then Germany, where they stabilized me as much as possible before they put me on that roughly eight-hour flight back to the States. They had to go through all that with me before I even got back to the USA.
When they got to the hospital my doctors asked my mom to bring pictures of me or anything that they could use to look at me and try to reconstruct my face back to what I somewhat looked like before. So when they got there, when they saw me, the roles reversed. My dad had an extremely difficult time, and my mom went into mama bear mode, like from that point on over the next three years. It was beyond incredible. It was very difficult for my dad. I’m making the point that the family serves too and so often I think people get so focused on the veteran or the service member, that they don't think about living by telephone for all those days, months and years. At any time, they may come back home to a government car in their driveway. Thinking that every phone call might be the last. You don't want to look at your phone, or answering machine, or check your emails because you're going to learn your loved one was killed or seriously injured. It’s a family effort. It was very difficult for my parents, but also my brothers. They were in middle school at the time. That year my brothers spent their Christmas in my hospital room. My brothers for the next two years did not really have a normal parental structure because one of them was always at Walter Reed living with me, or taking me to appointments taking me to surgeries and therapy. It was difficult for everyone all around. But I also knew that they were feeding off me. I wanted to do good and to be good for them because I already couldn't handle what they were having to go through. You know, I'll take it myself all day long. It was hard watching them suffer. They couldn’t make my surgeries go better or the time go faster. I stayed strong during those initial months but I had a breaking moment. Any time I get a microphone in my hand, I always thank the doctors for how they took care of me. It was difficult for everyone involved and that doesn’t end with family. Those doctors, surgeons, and hospital staff were absolutely amazing the whole time.
Here, I was shakily walking around but I was actually up on my feet. I was healing and getting better every single day. Once you get to a certain point, it becomes freeing because you’re not having to be watched over every single second of the day. Then you go to this middle ground in between outpatient and inpatient. I spent that next month and a half, after I left Walter Reed, in a polytrauma unit recovery unit at the VA in Richmond, Virginia. Dude, it was a drastic change. I wasn't hooked up on one machine and I didn't have any intravenous pain meds, which I didn't really care about. I just didn't want to suffer. I wanted to keep getting better and I didn't want the pain to hinder that recovery. So, it was a little scary. At that point, I couldn’t really do anything besides take a pill and hope that I’d start feeling better 30 minutes later. When you're taking medicine orally, it's not intravenous, it's delayed. So unless you take it well ahead of the pain coming back, there's going to be a break in that relief. That was scary getting taken off all my machines and kind of being on my own. So in the interim, I’m experiencing this heart-stopping pain with migraines where I couldn’t see very well. This is a major pain. A month before, I went into a 13-hour surgery to repair the 30 fractures in my arm. So it was a pain attached to having my bones hammered back together with rods and screws. This pain pulsated through the core of my bones. Even if you’re the toughest person in the world, this pain was enough to reduce you to being an infant. But I felt at that time, I could really handle almost anything. But even as tough as I was, this pain would reduce me to tears. This type of suffering would physically and emotionally wear me down if it wasn’t under control. I was going to spend the next month and a half or so in Richmond, so I could get better on my feet and do more therapy. It was going to be a year or two before I could get any of my oral reconstructive surgeries done. I couldn’t eat right, talk, or even cry properly. This was about three months after I got hit.
After my time in the polytrauma unit, I should’ve gone back up to Walter Reed. But, because of the influx of patients and wounded warriors, they didn’t have any beds. I had to travel back and forth between Walter Reed and home to get my surgeries. But when I traveled there, they had patients and beds out in the hallways because the rooms could only have two wounded warriors at a time. There were guys out in the hallway if their injuries weren’t considered bad enough. There was just nowhere for me to stay or live. Walter Reed was where my care team was, my liaison team, and everyone who knew my family. We had built a system of trust there and they also knew that I had many years of recovery left. So, it's not like I really could have gone anywhere because I didn't even have strength enough to walk to the mailbox and back. This part is wild and I didn’t even put it in my book. I got told with like a day or two notice that I was getting discharged and we had made this agreement with the Marine Corps and Walter Reed, that I could go home to my small town in South Carolina to recover. We weren’t going to be getting paid for mileage, but as long as my mom, who is a saint, drove me every two weeks to Walter Reed to do a surgery, and I did therapy every day at a local hospital clinic, I could go home to recover for the next. This was getting into the February timeframe and they were building a new, incredible, wounded warrior barracks-like living home on the base of Walter Reed at this time. But, it wasn’t opening until September of 2011. So, I had to get from March until September where I was granted permission to go home with the understanding that I would do therapy every day.
Again, every two or three weeks we had to drive up to Walter Reed and do another surgery. My wound care still took up to three hours every day and my parents had to do it. But we received no list of recommendations of any care. It was like, “You're getting discharged and now it’s your job to figure out the next steps.” I still had two years of recovery, and mom figured out where to go next because I was so out of it. I now realize how crazy that was. Yeah, so I was discharged and I went home. I had an amazing therapist. Her name's Julie Durnford. My mom exhaustively for days, if not weeks, called every care provider within a 100-mile radius of Lexington. And every single one was like, “Sorry, ma'am. We just can't do wound care or handle injuries like that. Here's another recommendation.” My mom was in tears every day because no one could help me with the level of wound care I needed. So she finally found the Augusta Burn Center, which is an incredible place. And they were like, “Yes ma’am, we can take him.” So, my mom was driving me an hour and a half to the burn center two to three times a week, and every two weeks drove me to D.C. I slept the whole way there every time (laughs). I would fall asleep before we even left the driveway. I would wake up when we pulled into D.C. after she had sat in D.C. traffic north of Virginia for two or three hours. I say all that to say that I’m forever beyond grateful.
This is why I was at home when I had this breakdown. I'd only been home for a few weeks and it was probably nine or ten o'clock at night. I decided to be a big bad Marine and undertake the tough stuff (laughs). I should’ve known this wasn’t going to turn out the way I thought it would. I tried to prove to myself that I could do it and take on the task of making myself a bowl of cereal. At this point, it was still very early on in my recovery. I hadn’t had my nerve graph repair surgeries and my wrist hung limp because I couldn't lift my hands because those nerves were severed. My arms had been shattered just a couple of months before and so even lifting them felt like 100 lb. weights. I could barely open the top flap of the cereal box. When I finally was able to make this bowl of cereal, which somehow I did with minimal spillage, I was sitting there, in the dark of my kitchen, with the lights dimly lit, and my mom was in the room ten feet away in the living room. There were two kinds of reasons for my breakdown at this moment. The first was because I was sitting there in the kitchen, dimly lit, with no noise, or maybe just the faint noise of a TV from the living room. But, it was the first time in three or four months that it was just me, myself, and my thoughts. It had always been chaos around me with the doctors, the wound care team, and the surgeries. I was finally sitting there just by myself and my thoughts. I was finally realizing what had all transpired to bring me to this moment. The second aspect of it was I couldn't even really eat the cereal because of the damage to my face, where the nerves had been severed. So, I couldn't even really tell how messy I was. I didn’t realize how important the structure of my mouth and jaw was. I didn’t even have any teeth. I couldn’t even tell if I was spilling the milk. A few months before, I was in the best shape of my life toting around a machine gun and 1000 rounds through the south portion of Afghanistan. Now, here I am, not even able to properly pour a bowl of cereal.
The months before that I wasn’t even able to get out of bed. I was having to empty myself in a bedpan and I was laying in my bed with my mom and dad beside me with a team of five or six corpsmen around me. To do anything, they had to hold all of these different tubes and cords just so I could move. Anyways, after going through all of that, I felt so helpless in pouring this bowl of cereal because I was not where I wanted to be progress-wise. I broke down and my mom rushed into the room. She immediately thought I was in pain or something bad had happened. I just looked up at her and I said, “Look at me. How’s anyone ever going to love me again?” I hated that I said that. I regret it even now to this day because I took her hope away in the moment. Nothing truly tore her heart out until that moment when I lost hope in myself. But, being the amazing mom that she is, she immediately put her arms around me and comforted me through her own tears. She said, “Someday someone is going to love you for the rest of your life and this will just be a distant memory.” There was a moment and then in the few seconds that followed, and I'm so forever grateful that I had this insight. I don't know how I did because I don't break down that much. I had this super low moment where I lost hope in myself
I had this sort of epiphany at the moment but it was just internally in my head, I realized that I could take a small step and just get away from the counter. If I didn’t do that, I would be sitting at that kitchen counter for the rest of my life. I’m thankful that I went through that because I learned that you don't have to always be okay. You don't have to know what the next minute, hour, or day holds. Sometimes all you need to do is take those small steps away from the kitchen counter. All good things must come to an end, but with that, all bad things must come to an end too. If you are just willing to get up and cling to whatever hope, or silver linings you can and to take those small steps, you can find the light at the end of the tunnel in every single situation. I always tell people that because after I speak at events people say to me, “Well, you know, I never went to combat or I never did anything like you, or I never got injured.” If it's a civilian, they'll usually say, “Oh, well, I never joined the military, or I've never been hurt like you.” In that moment, I stop them. I have to tell them about that struggle and no matter what it is we’ve all gone through struggles. It’s not about what that struggle is. Everybody heals in their own time and in their own way. So whether you get up from that kitchen counter and snap out of it, or if it takes you every day for the rest of your life to heal it’s all worth it. That’s okay. We all heal in our own time and in our own way. Some small struggles might be overwhelmingly significant to others. While some can step on an IED and become a triple or quadruple amputee and you'll never see them without a smile on their face. You can’t compare struggles. Just take the small steps. Try to be a good person along the way. And no matter what you're going through or how hard you've been knocked down, I promise, you can get through it.
Kyle holds the medal of a Pacific Campaign Veteran of WWII.
“I broke down and my mom rushed into the room. She immediately thought I was in pain or something bad had happened. I just looked up at her and I said, ‘Look at me. How’s anyone ever going to love me again?’ I hated that I said that. I regret it even now to this day because I took her hope away in the moment. Nothing truly tore her heart out until that moment when I lost hope in myself. But, being the amazing mom that she is, she immediately put her arms around me and comforted me through her own tears. She said, ‘Someday someone is going to love you for the rest of your life and this will just be a distant memory.’”
How did you get past all that pain and move forward mentally? What was therapeutic for you during those moments?
KC: I just became grateful that I was there to go through whatever was in front of me. Another aspect was the incredible wounded warriors that I was surrounded by. To see warriors with way worse injuries than me and again, not really comparing, but you look at him, and you see that they're a quadruple amputee in PT. Whatever they have left, they are using to push that lever on their electric wheelchair, with a smile on their face, going into therapy, and becoming better. How can you be down when you see guys going through worse than you and handling it with a smile on their faces? I saw guys just crushing life with just a remnant of their limbs left to where they didn’t even seem phased. Every day at Walter Reed was a total perspective check. Another aspect of it was, “Hey, I have to do all these things to get out of here. Ultimately, if I'm ever going to escape this crazy dream I'm in I've got to go through all these steps.” I don’t necessarily think I’m great at compartmentalizing either. It was so daunting if I thought about having three years left and 40 surgeries. That was so perplexing that I could only really focus on taking one small step at a time. I would just look at that next big surgery as a marker in time. I was just striving for any little micro improvements. But I knew that if I got through that surgery, then the next surgery will be the one before I can get teeth. And so as always just kind of not really even being able to look that far ahead, because I hadn't done the 100 steps before getting to that point.
How did you know what you wanted to do or where you wanted to end up on this journey?
KC: I was locked in on freshman classes at the University of South Carolina as soon as I was done with all my rehab. It wasn't hard. I loved it. I welcomed it. I was pumped every single day I woke up and I can still remember the feeling of that even to this day. I felt like I was living in a vacation world, going into college, just because the past three years had been so surreal, so difficult and painful at times. I had three years of sitting in a hospital, sitting in pre-op rooms, sitting in post-op rooms where I constantly had to let the world go on around me. I had almost an unlimited amount of time to think about where I had been and where I was going. And you know, I still had to think about staying in the Marine Corps or hanging up the uniform. “Do I want to serve 20 more years and stay in? Do I want to get out and go to school? Do I want to get out and have a normal real job?”
Deep thinking does wonders for you and I had a lot of time to think about all the crossroads I would be encountering in life. When it came time to medically retire and I decided to get out, I thought, “Okay, I joined to commit myself and my life to a bigger purpose. I did that and I did it to the best of my ability. I gave much of my body and I bled for this country.” So that coupled with knowing that I would always have that camaraderie of a military connection and military family, made it easier to leave the Corps. I felt like I had thoroughly given that chapter of my life the best. So, I was okay with hanging out the uniform. Once I decided to get out of the military, I knew I’d promised my parents that no matter what I would go for a degree. Most importantly, I wanted that for myself. The medical board can take anywhere from six months, up to a year and a half. So I knew I was going to have a certain amount of time before I was considered medically retired. So the second my medical board started, I was assigned a tutor named Resa Epling, who is amazing. I still talk to her all the time. She tutored me two or three days a week in between therapy appointments and all these things that I was going through. I also had a friend from the Board of Education, Heather Bernard, who supported me greatly through my transition. I still talk to her as well.
She worked in education her whole life. So she started making calls to different schools and universities to see where I could find a program that would fit my desires. I started working on retaking the SATs and the ACTs. I wrote admissions essays as well. I still knew I had months before I got the results on my med board and so I did two internships. I interned on Capitol Hill. There was also a program at Walter Reed at the time, where if you had a certain amount of time left in the military, they would help find an organization that you could intern for in the intelligence world, and they would help pay to expedite a top-secret security clearance. You just had to agree to give at least two or three months to this organization, so I did that. I interned at the National Counterterrorism Center. It was so incredible and I learned so much. I had an amazing mentor, by the name of Ed. He taught me so much and that really kind of pointed me in the direction where I could fuel my fire of appreciating our intelligence agencies, Homeland Security, and all of the people that work exhaustively with no recognition day in and day in preventing the next 9/11. The scary version is that these kinds of attacks are on their radar almost weekly. That geared me up internally towards my international relations major in school.
Kyle speaks with Bert Sorin, President of Sorinex.
That was one of the top five experiences of my life. I'm just so thankful for that. Those people so selflessly gave their time and energy to teach me knowing that I was only going to be there for three months. I was a pretty good intern and they offered me a full-time position if I wanted to stay. The pay was not bad either. But dude, I just wanted to be normal, to go to school, and to make up for the lost time that I didn’t get to enjoy. But in that job description, you have to request to go more than 60 miles away on the weekend. You can't do that unless you fill out an “out of bounds” request form, which no one does (laughs). I mean, I always did. But, most folks don’t. You have to request permission to do anything. When I was in boot camp, you had to request permission to go to the bathroom. Ironically enough, when you’re a service member, and when you commit to sign on that dotted line, most of your freedoms are revoked. Even your freedom of speech is taken away and you can't give your thoughts on politics. If you don’t like the President too bad, he's your commander in chief. You almost feel imprisoned by that mindset. I just wanted to just start living my life on my terms, as much as possible.
So, I’ve taken that time and I think some of it for my own mental health. And, you know, but with all that said, I had three years. Well, there were two years after I got out where I felt I had freedom. The first year I was in that “I hope I don’t die” phase (laughs). I wanted to commit to those internships because I wanted to learn, I wanted to better myself, and I had the opportunity. I'd been in the hospital for years, where I couldn’t have left if I’d wanted to. I did those internships for many different reasons but that also played into easing me into that transition. Even those evening classes, as much as I didn’t want to go sometimes, were important in my transition. I still felt so much freedom in being able to go to class. So it wasn't too tough. I can sympathize with those who’ve just left the military in that way. You’re serving and being told what to do every single day of your life and at 8 a.m., the next morning, you get your DD 214 (discharge), which is your paperwork that says, “Thanks for your four years, goodbye, you're free to leave the military.” Suddenly, in that moment, you become a civilian and your entire world drastically changes from the past four years that you've known. If you have a family, you have to find a job that financially allows them to live comfortably. People think we join for financial stability and that’s just not true. No one's going to get rich, or ball out in the military (laughs). So it's not that you need this high paying job to continue that. You just need a job and you need a sense of purpose. Not to hate on any menial task jobs, but it’s not like you’re going to want to go from the military to scrubbing toilets. Yeah, I could do that but I would probably be in a really bad headspace. If I’m not doing well mentally, I’m not going to be the best for my family. Just because I'm making a paycheck doesn't mean I'm getting any sense of purpose from that job. There's a lot to navigate and think about in order to make a smooth transition. So, it takes a lot of work. There's a lot of scary, uncertain moments in a transition like that. As crazy as my transition was, I had the time to mentally prepare. So I don't think it hit me as hard because I thought about exactly what I was getting into. Whatever came my way, I thought of 1,000 different ways of how I would either handle it.
It's important to know that there will be that period of not feeling like you have a purpose. You get out of the military and suddenly that purpose is gone. You have to first really think about and realize that we all join and raised our right hand. First of all, no one made us serve. We agreed to commit ourselves and our lives to a greater purpose than ourselves or any one individual. Nobody made us join and we all wanted to do it. Will it be hard when you leave that? Of course. That's normal and that’s okay. Again, everyone heals in their own time and in their own way. Sometimes, yielding to that pain in transition can be alright. I was forced for many long, painful and dark nights to search for any silver linings that were out there. But instead of focusing on the past, and what happened, what you can't change, think about how you can be that vessel for a journey of purpose. We can become educators. What I know and what you know, is you are still here, you still have a chance at life, you still have a chance to give your loved ones a greater life. But when that point comes where you have a chance to continue to share the names of those who sacrificed the most you never let those names die. You can continue on with what they gave in their legacy.
Kyle stands with Lucas O’Hara, Founder of Grizzly Forge.
So when I started school, obviously, I wasn't hiding the scars from anyone, I was a little older. A lot of people locally in South Carolina knew my story but this was two years before I received the Medal of Honor. I’d hear them whisper, “That guy that got hit with a grenade from South Carolina lived and he’s going to the University of South Carolina.” I'd been in the local news. I was recognized on the State House floor by former Governor Nikki Haley, who's so amazing, and a great friend of mine and my family. So, I was kind of already out there in the public eye. I got approached a lot. That would exponentially increase after I received the Medal. But no matter what, very rarely did I get approached with any sort of accurate questions or information. Obviously, these are civilians, so the most a lot of them know about the military is “Call of Duty,” right? So, they would come up to me and would say things like, “Oh, yeah, you’re the guy that won the Purple Heart,” I remember thinking in the moment, “That's a pretty shitty contest.” (laughs) First place in the Purple Heart competition. Even after the Medal, they would still come up and ask that. And so then at that point, I'm like, “Not only are you telling me, you don't know what the Purple Heart is, but I'm pretty sure you're referring to the Medal of Honor. You just don't know the difference.”
After a couple times of dealing with this I had to really sit down and dissect and think to myself, “How do I want to handle these situations that are inevitable from here on out? How do I want to approach them? How do I want to react?” I realized that we all have our own story and we all have our own journey. We all come from different places. We all have learned things that others don't know. I barely know how to add and subtract, so you wouldn’t say that I know much about math (laughs). There are incredible people out there that can solve any math problem that know nothing about the military, or that there are even multiple branches of the military. Andy Stumpf sums it up perfectly when he said, “I've done more than some and less than others.” I had to realize that it takes a tremendous amount of courage not knowing anything about the military to then approach a veteran and ask them about what their experience was like. That takes courage, but also, you don't know what you don't know. They didn't serve. Why should I expect them to know the difference between a Medal of Honor and a Purple Heart? I realized that I could treat that moment as a space in time where I could educate. By having a bad attitude about it or treating that civilian as stupid because they don’t know, isn’t doing the Marine Corps any favors. They might’ve had a bad experience in talking to a Marine the last time they tried to approach one. I'm not educating and I'm not bridging that gap if I speak to them in a negative or harsh tone.
“It’s important to know that there will be that period of not feeling like you have a purpose. You get out of the military and suddenly that purpose is gone. You have to first really think about and realize that we all join and raised our right hand. First of all, no one made us serve. We agreed to commit ourselves and our lives to a greater purpose than ourselves or any one individual. Nobody made us join and we all wanted to do it. Will it be hard when you leave that? Of course. That’s normal and that’s okay. Again, everyone heals in their own time and in their own way. Sometimes, yielding to that pain in transition can be alright.”
What was the process and finding out about the Medal of Honor in being nominated for that?
KC: I didn’t know anything about the Medal of Honor for years. When I was in Richmond, early on in those first few months during rehab, I did have a buddy that called me about it. I'd had a little day outing from the hospital and I was sitting in a mall food court, wearing a sling. I was just picking up some clothes. I didn’t have much because I’d been in a hospital bed over the past couple years so everything I had was MARPAT (Marine Pattern). My buddy called me and he said something to the effect of, “Hey, man, I just want to let you know, we all know what you did. We saw it.” He might have specifically mentioned the Medal of Honor and I'm pretty sure he did. But he just said, “We know what you did, and we're going to send it up the chain.” But as you know, it basically takes an act of Congress to get any sort of award or recognition for valor.” Even getting a Combat Action Ribbon we have to fill out this piece of paper that shows the date and time we got shot at and returned fire. It’s not enough that we were out just fighting for our lives for three hours (laughs). So I heard him and it meant a lot that he would not only call but that all my buddies thought that highly of me and supposedly what I did. I didn't hear anything for over two years. Years later, I'm still at Walter Reed. Surprise, surprise (laughs). I was sitting in this Mexican restaurant called GWA pose, in downtown Bethesda, Maryland, like a mile outside of the gate. I was there with two buddies.
I mentioned Staff Sergeant Paul Ramirez in my book. Now he's a first sergeant, and I've pinned his rank which was awesome. He started out as my section leader at Walter Reed. A section leader at Walter Reed is just a Marine that oversees your care administratively, and makes sure your family, and all that is taken care of. Anyways, I was sitting there with my friends, and I got a call from a number I didn’t have in my phone. I answered and the restaurant was kind of loud. I think they even had a mariachi band playing. So answer and this dude's probably like, Man, this guy's in the hospital. It sounds like he's, you know, adequate. On the phone was Chief Warrant Officer Reeves. He asked me if I had a minute to talk so I left the restaurant. He proceeded to tell me that after all this time, there was a lot of attention being placed on what I did that night on the rooftop. The Marine Corps Times even put out a couple of articles. They did a follow up, and both articles were good. But the cover of the first one said in giant bold letters, “Did Lance Coporal KyleCarpenter shield his fellow Marines - or not?” My Marine Corps buddies were fired up, and they were calling the Marine Corps Times. They were very upset because they saw what happened. They were there. I couldn’t remember anything so I don’t blame the writer for questioning what I did. Those Marines went through it with me though and they had blood on their camouflage for the rest of the deployment after helping me out. I remember one of my fellow Marines told me, “Dude, we thought it rained or something and I was up on post. I realized we were just both sitting in your blood.” But, those Marine Corps Times articles really brought me the right kind of attention. Anyways, this CWO-5 Reeves called me and said that the Marine Corps assigned him. This was probably the last gig of his career. They took him from wherever he was in the Marine Corps, specifically assigned him to kickstart and lead the investigation, no matter how long it took, or where it led. He asked me what I remembered and I told him, “Nothing that will be of help to you.” And I just said, “You know, I appreciate your time and effort on this.” He thanked me and said, “No matter how this turns out, myself and the Marines of 2/9 are proud of you and it was an honor to serve with you.”
Left to right: Bert Sorin (Sorinex), Kyle Carpenter, Kyle’s father James.
Kyle with his dad, James.
So we hung up the phone, and I didn’t hear anything for however many months. So, fast forward to the investigation starting. I didn't hear anything else. Fast forward to November. I was at the Marine Corps Birthday of 2013. It was a Commandant's Birthday Ball and I was in school at the time. But, I traveled up to DC to go to the birthday ball. I was invited. Because I got close with the Commandant and Sergeant Major, they were the ones who gave me my Purple Heart. I had a relationship with them. It was a true friendship and not just because they knew I might get the Medal. So, they invited me out to the ball. Knowing that I had agreed to go, a public affairs Marine reached out to me and my mom. At the time she was Captain Kendra Motz. She is the most amazing Marine and such an amazing human being. She just said, “Hey, I know you're coming up for the ball. Would you mind grabbing coffee with me before you head out the next morning?” At this point, I didn’t think anything would come of the investigation. But, she told me and my family, “Hey, we don't know where this investigation is going. It hasn't been shut down so it's still going somewhere.” We didn't know if it had been co-signed by one person, or 100 people. There are just so many levels and signatures before it gets to the Secretary of the Navy, then Secretary of Defense, and then only based upon their two recommendations does the President even look at it.
She said, “Listen, we think it's still going to take at least a few months. As you go into your next semester we will probably be checking in to see how things are going.” So we ended that call and I went back to school and after Christmas the calls became a little more frequent. So, at the very end of January and beginning of February, we got to a point where it was like, “Hey, we don't know if this is going to happen. We still don't know where it's at but if it's going to happen, it'll probably be sooner than later.” We wanted to be fully prepared for whatever may come. I remember one particular call where I said something to the effect of, “Okay, well, what about school?” I was almost annoyed because I’d been working very hard on my transition. I was in this new, great point of my life, in school, but I was still very honored. But it felt like I had to go back to not having any freedom and being told what to do all the time by the Marine Corps. I was done being in the Corps and just wanted to go to school. I understood though, obviously. It was just a tremendous honor to even be in the discussion for the Medal.
The Marine Corps Public Affairs were very encouraging and they said, “Hey, we know that school is your priority and we know you want to do as well as possible. So if you do, you're probably not going to be able to do everything we need you to while taking a full course load in college.” I had a decision to make. I didn’t want to lose all my hours but I also wanted to be as prepared as possible for whatever could come my way. I just kept thinking about leaving school and how it would affect me to leave my friends. I’d be getting grilled by public affairs Marines for months to come in learning how to handle reporters who are pushy, in deflecting questions to redirect the conversation back to the Medal of Honor. I’d have to do this not even knowing where we were in the process. And if it's even so going. And so, you know, I kind of decided, “I guess I'm going to withdraw from school, because if this is going to happen, I obviously want to give it my best effort.” It was so perfect, because right before I withdrew from school I was notified that the President would be calling me. I still couldn’t believe it. I still didn’t think he would call. And so sure enough, I went to class, because the day the call went to class, I got out of class, and I drove 30 minutes home to Lexington, and we had checked my brothers out of school at the time.
One of my brothers thought that we were getting a new dog and that was the big reason for him getting pulled out of class. The other brother thought that my dad was getting a new recliner or had gotten a new recliner. These were obviously big priorities (laughs). I got home and my mom was like, “Why do you have your nasty shoes on?” The first question I asked was, “Does anyone have a phone charger? I'm at 7%.” My mom was like, “The President of the United States is about to call you and you couldn't even charge your cell phone.” I got the charger for my phone and right as I did, he called me. When the President called me he asked about school, where I was, and what I was doing. He told me that based upon the Secretary of the Navy and the Secretary of Defense's recommendation, he was proud to be awarding me the Medal of Honor and he told me that he was proud of what me and my fellow Marines did. He said he looked forward to seeing me later on in the summer. I don't know if they had an exact date. I hung up and my mom was crying. My brothers couldn't believe it. I hope they weren't disappointed that we didn't get a dog and a recliner. My dad told me he was proud of me and we all had a group hug. I went back to class that day and then I withdrew. This was about two weeks after the cut off withdrawal date where you lose credits instead of just being able to just withdraw. I was banking on the University of South Carolina not taking my credits from me. Sorry guys. I still couldn't tell anyone. During that whole semester, I was at the Pentagon all during the week, being molded into this PR person and they did an incredible job. Captain Joe Wold (at the time) and Captain Kendra Motz, and the rest of an amazing team did such a good job with me. So just now looking back even more they did a really thorough, solid, amazing job.
I'm sure a lot of them wanted me to do as well as possible when I received the Medal. Once we got to know each other, I knew they just wanted me to be the best recipient possible and ready to take on the role. I was fully capable of not saying the right thing But at first, I’m sure they were thinking, “Well, if you go on Letterman, and say something really stupid, you've kind of ruined it for the rest of the Marine Corps.” It was a 50/50 mix of them not wanting me to ruin the Marine Corps’ reputation and them wanting me to be successful. It was all very strange. I was in the Pentagon all week and then, I would fly back Thursday or Friday morning, link up with my buddies, hang out with everybody all weekend, go to football games or whatever. Everyone was talking about certain homework assignments or tests. I was getting asked questions and, as you know, talking about how much school sucks is a big part of going to school (laughs). I just had to lie, and I felt bad, but I couldn't say anything. And so, I was just a normal college student on the weekends and during the week I was at the Pentagon. They were teaching me all the facts about Marine Corps history, casualty numbers, and all the things I had to know as a Medal of Honor Recipient. It was a lot to learn. I needed to do it for me, my family, and the reputation of the Corps. I was a fake college student for a whole semester. I still feel like a complete boot when I walk into the room with those older guys like Woody Williams. I'm nervous every time I’m around him. I’m the youngest Medal of Honor Recipient and he’s the oldest. I don't feel like I deserve to be there. It's heavy beyond measure and it's a beautiful burden. During my ceremony in the middle of college, after months of the prep phase, and all of these things in the moment when the President draped the Medal around my neck it was a huge wakeup call. You know, I hadn't had that time to process and really think about what it truly means. All I knew was that it was extremely heavy and real. My life would be forever impacted. You know, to really think about what the Medal represents, first of all, and I've known this from the moment I received it. It's not mine. It's not Woody's. It's not ours and it’s not any one person’s.
I remember my parents who hung on with every breath in the beginning, and who while I was wildly hallucinating and losing my mind, took shifts for hours at a time keeping their hand on my left ankle to try to keep me in reality. The Medal represents the Marines that I was there on the ground with like Dakota Hughes, who was arguing with me over the best hot sauce 24 hours before losing his life. It represents all of those children in Afghanistan who asked me through interpreters, “Is everywhere in America, like Disney World? Can you really go into your home and turn a knob and get clean drinking water?” The kids that were born into fear and that lived and died without ever really truly tasting freedom or safety or peace. You go beyond that and the Medal represents all of the people around the world, not just Afghanistan, that wake up oppressed. It represents all the people around the world that wake up hoping that today's sunrise will be a little bit better than the day before. Beyond that, you know, it represents all of our military, all of the courage and sacrifice and patriotism that led to where we are today. Men like Woody Williams charged the beaches, where they knew that most likely, they would take their last breath on those same beaches. They charged forward anyway. Beyond that, it represents those that either didn’t make it home or those that are guarded today at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. To think about all of those things, the Medal is too heavy to be put into words. I will say that I don't believe the beautiful burden will get any less heavy, even when I'm 97. Hopefully, I’ll be doing something as incredible as Woody with my life if I make it that long. I'll just say that I am extremely humbled and honored to be recognized by my country. I just hope that I can uphold what it represents and I can be the best recipient and Marine and person and friend that I can.
Kyle stands with his videographer and friend, Ben Sauls.
“When the President called me he asked about school, where I was, and what I was doing. He told me that based upon the Secretary of the Navy and the Secretary of Defense’s recommendation, he was proud to be awarding me the Medal of Honor and he told me that he was proud of what me and my fellow Marines did. He said he looked forward to seeing me later on in the summer. I don’t know if they had an exact date. I hung up and my mom was crying. My brothers couldn’t believe it. I hope they weren’t disappointed that we didn’t get a dog and a recliner. My dad told me he was proud of me and we all had a group hug. I went back to class that day and then I withdrew.”
What is it about the weight that's so significant?
KC: I have to use my personal platform, even in the social media world, which I've worked very hard to build, not because I want followers, or I want everyone to know who I am. But, I've realized over the years and over much time that I can share my journey with people. I realized the power in you sharing that journey. I'm not saying that I know every post helps someone, but over the years of constant engagements with people I believe I can help. There was a woman in 2012 that told me that she looks at my Facebook every morning to get the courage to get out of bed because her arthritis is so debilitating. Every morning she looks at my Facebook. I’ve realized that social media is a pretty cool place to share my path. I love posting my journey and also knowing that my head took a pretty big hit and I may not always have the best memory. Knowing that there is a place where I can hold onto those memories, is so powerful. It does help other people. I’ve had plenty of opportunities put in front of me on social media that I knew put my own desires above the importance of the Medal. One of the stipulations might be that they need three social media posts, one a week for almost a month, promoting some cause. It might be a great cause that helps a lot of veterans. But, I have to think about so many things that most people don’t even realize. Is this post going to be perceived positively or negatively? Is this post family friendly?
There are quite a few kids out there that have done class projects on me and I know they’re looking at my social media a lot. There’s a certain level of responsibility I have in making sure I come off the right way to an all encompassing audience. I have to always think, “How will this reflect on the Medal? How will this influence people's perception of me?” I'm still the same person. I just want the absolute very best for the Medal of Honor and what it represents, and the courage, sacrifice and loss that comes with the Medal of Honor. I have to uphold the tradition of excellence. I know this whole quarantine era has been really tough on everyone, but it’s put me in a very good place of really learning how to confidently navigate how I show people my journey. If I'm not good for myself, I'm not going to be good for those I'm trying to help. There were years that I ran myself into the ground all the time, thinking that I could help the whole world and ending up back in the hospital because I was doing too much. I wanted to disappoint as few as possible. But even when I did that, there's still a list of people that I had to say no to. I had to learn how to say no and how to do that in a kind, polite, and tactful way. Woody’s been learning that his whole life and I’m just really starting that journey in a lot of ways. I haven’t been perfect the whole way. But, I always try to stick to what I know and adapt to the situation. I can only learn from the past and my mistakes. That's important.
Kyle and his father, James.
I have the book here in front of me which you are about to autograph. Thank you for taking me to the coffee shop where you wrote it. Can you talk about the process of that a little bit and kind of what led to this book?
KC: So, I graduated school, got my degree and that was the most proud moment of my whole life. One, just because I did it, when I was being pulled a million different directions every day for those five years where I was fortunate enough to speak constantly on the road about receiving the Medal. It was the first thing I had done by myself in a long time. That was all me. I didn’t get any handouts while I was working on that degree. Whether I was coming back from a business trip, or from running the Marine Corps Marathon for the Semper Fi Fund on Sunday, I had to be in class Monday morning. I did all of that and still got my degree, without any help, just me and my determination. I’m super proud of that. I had to really think about my last year of school, what I wanted to do, after I graduated and it was finally time for a big boy job. “Did I want a job in a certain sector of intelligence or should I start a non-profit?” I thought really hard about it. A lot of people had mentioned that I should write a book during the course of me speaking at all these various galas and events. I decided that once I graduated I would start the book. Then, I started really thinking about how I wanted to approach it. I don’t want to knock all the other veteran books out there because some of them are amazing, but I just knew I wanted mine to be different. I commend any author or any veteran for putting their words on paper out to the world. I just knew that I didn't want to write a book strictly about combat or the military.
I wanted a book that would transcend all boundaries. I wanted anyone from the CEO side of big business to a person living on the street, to be able to pick up my book and receive something from that experience of reading it. I wanted them to be able to take lessons from whatever I wrote. I thought back to all the connections I had made and I thought about one specific story where I was at another Marine Corps Birthday Ball and a Marine came up to me in a meet and greet line. His rank and his stack of ribbons visually told me that he had probably been in combat since I was in diapers. This was a meet and greet line of maybe 1,000 people. There were all these cameras around us but I could just tell that he wanted to say something to me. So, I hugged him and turned him away from the crowd so he could speak to me in private. He proceeded to tell me that with his arthritis he’d been close to taking his own life but didn’t because of me. Specifically, he’d seen my perseverance through all my pain and knowing that, he knew he could get through his pain as well. His pain was physical, mental, and emotional. I have another story I like to share that still gets me choked up to the point of tears. When I was in school, I’d just left a business meeting in downtown Columbia, South Carolina and I walked past these two homeless gentlemen. One of them, clearly not knowing my background, shot me with a finger pistol, and said, “Hey, looking sharp brother.” This gentleman was clearly homeless and just kickin’ it on the sidewalk.
Kyle sits in the same coffee shop where he penned his book, “You Are Worth It: Building A Life Worth Fighting For.”
I’ll admit that I was conditioned for this moment a certain way and to be honest, I’m pretty ashamed of it. But, especially living in DC, I was kind of conditioned to believe that when you get a compliment from a homeless person, a lot of times the reality is, it's a kind of a precursor to the follow up question of asking for money. I didn’t really have any money on me and we weren't really close to a store. So, I knew that I really couldn’t help him out. I mean, maybe I could have, but at that moment, I just didn't feel like I could. So, because of that, I was prepared for him to ask me that question. But, he said nothing else to me and he just smiled. I had two voices in my head going back and forth. I thought, “What if I never see that nice man, that took time out of his day, just to tell me I was looking sharp.” So, I wrestled with it, and I thought, “Okay, you know, is it crazy that I'm going to go back and talk to him and say, ‘Thank you.’” I finally decided to get out of my car and go back to that spot. The other guy left but my man Kenny was fortunately still there and we sat there for a half hour just talking. Even though he couldn't relate to my childhood, how I was brought up, we still found ways to relate to other things. He could relate to the suit and the wristwatch I was wearing. We sat there and spoke just like old friends do.
I realized at that moment that it didn’t matter I was in the Marines and he hadn’t served. We could relate through our struggles. The struggle is what matters and the struggle is the one common thread throughout every single person on this earth. I believe more than religion, more than anything else, we have all struggled, we will all continue to struggle and we can all relate to struggle. My struggle was my time in combat and healing after that from my physical wounds. His struggle was from a life on the streets, but that struggle bridged our experiences. Our scars were a bridge. Towards the end of the conversation I said, “Hey, man, walk down the road with me and I don't have any cash, but I would love to get you some food and drinks.” He thanked me for that but then immediately he asked for cigarettes. I'm thinking to myself, “I want to get this guy food and a drink and now he’s asking me for cigarettes.” But, he was quick to point out that he didn't smoke. I'm thinking, “Okay, Kenny. Why do you need cigarettes if you don't smoke?” (laughs) I asked him and his answer immediately brought me to tears.
I took a second to process it all but I remember he said, “Man, cigarettes are like gold down at the shelter. I can sell each one for $2.” Man, that was just so heavy. I just realized at that moment everything was related to struggle. I realized the direction I wanted to take with my book. I knew that I had to talk about my military experience and what brought me into some of the most painful moments of my life. But, I wanted the vast majority of the book to be relatable to anyone that picked it up. So, I just thought really hard for months about my experiences. I’d wake up at 2 a.m. just to write something down that I thought people would be able to relate to. I’d have these intense epiphanies that I knew could help people relate to what I went through, and I would just change a few words around to make it more understandable to the civilian populace. People would realize this wasn’t a military book but more of a book about life. I wanted to write it in a way where you could take my name out, fill in the blank, and it could apply to anyone. So, I spent a lot of time thinking about that. It’s mostly a book directed towards encouraging people in their struggles. I really worked hard at writing this book in a way where it wouldn’t feel like someone was trying to teach you, or preach at you. It's more like, “Hey, this is what I went through. This is how I handled it, good, bad or indifferent. Take it or leave it.” Hopefully, you can apply it a little bit in your own realization and not only get through your struggle, but come out the other side with a smile on your face.
Kyle signs a copy of his book, “You Are Worth It: Building a Life Worth Fighting For.”
“I realized at that moment that it didn’t matter I was in the Marines and he hadn’t served. We could relate through our struggles. The struggle is what matters and the struggle is the one common thread throughout every single person on this earth. I believe more than religion, more than anything else, we have all struggled, we will all continue to struggle and we can all relate to struggle. My struggle was my time in combat and healing after that from my physical wounds. His struggle was from a life on the streets, but that struggle bridged our experiences. Our scars were a bridge.”
OFFICIAL MEDAL OF HONOR CITATION FOR WILLIAM KYLE CARPENTER
The President of the United States of America, in the name of Congress, takes pleasure in presenting the Medal of Honor to Lance Corporal William Kyle Carpenter, United States Marine Corps, for conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty while serving as an Automatic Rifleman with Company F, Second Battalion, Ninth Marines, Regimental Combat Team 1, First Marine Division (Forward), I Marine Expeditionary Force (Forward), in Helmand Province, Afghanistan, in support of Operation ENDURING FREEDOM on 21 November 2010. Lance Corporal Carpenter was a member of a platoon-sized coalition force, comprised of two reinforced Marine rifle squads partnered with an Afghan National Army squad. The platoon had established Patrol Base DAKOTA two days earlier in a small village in the Marjah District in order to disrupt enemy activity and provide security for the local Afghan population. Lance Corporal Carpenter and a fellow Marine were manning a rooftop security position on the perimeter of Patrol Base DAKOTA when the enemy initiated a daylight attack with hand grenades, one of which landed inside their sandbagged position. Without hesitation and with complete disregard for his own safety, Lance Corporal Carpenter moved toward the grenade in an attempt to shield his fellow Marine from the deadly blast. When the grenade detonated, his body absorbed the brunt of the blast, severely wounding him, but saving the life of his fellow Marine. By his undaunted courage, bold fighting spirit, and unwavering devotion to duty in the face of almost certain death, Lance Corporal Carpenter reflected great credit upon himself and upheld the highest traditions of the Marine Corps and of the United States Naval Service.