My body was torn apart by an enemy hand grenade... upon arriving at Camp Bastion, I was labeled P.E.A. - patient expired on arrival. I flat-lined at Walter Reed.
I was labeled 'P-E-A,' which is patient expired on arrival. I guess that's the politically correct way of saying you didn't make it.
I was injured by an enemy hand grenade in Afghanistan in 2010. I spent three years recovering at Walter Reed National Military Medical Center... And through that three years, I was forced to search for the silver linings during the long dark and painful nights and days in the hospital.
I am a retired United States Marine Corporal and I started out in 2nd Battalion Night Marines on my deployment and I finished my career in the Marine Corps at Walter Reed National Military Medical Center as a patient.
Trout fishing. One must be a stickler for proper form. Use nothing but #4 blasting caps, or a hand grenade, if handy, or at a pool well-lined with stone, one blast from a .44 magnum will bring a few stunned brookies quietly to the surface.
Two hundred Romans, and no one’s got a pen? Never mind!" He slung his M16 onto his back and pulled out a hand grenade. There were many screaming Romans. Then the hand grenade morphed into a ballpoint pen, and Mars began to write. Frank looked at Percy with wide eyes. He mouthed: Can your sword do grenade form? Percy mouthed back, No. Shut up.
One of my fears would be getting torn apart by a great white shark. I love the ocean, but I always have this deep fear of getting torn apart by a great whitey.
An oak and a reed were arguing about their strength. When a strong wind came up, the reed avoided being uprooted by bending and leaning with the gusts of wind. But the oak stood firm and was torn up by the roots.
Cinema is a male-dominated bastion and one has to be patient.
It took a lot for me to feel mentally stable after giving birth and, physically, my body felt torn apart.
I've been out to Walter Reed on unannounced visits. I've seen these soldiers. I've met their families.
I said three things when I woke up in Walter Reed. 'I love you.' 'Put me to work,' and 'You stink! Go shower!'
I went to Walter Reed hospital a couple of times to visit wounded soldiers, kids with no legs and one arm. You start to question some things.
The principle is this: We must not allow anything into our life that feeds our point of weakness. A soldier doesn't dance through a mind field any more than we should play with a hand grenade. When the enemy's entry points are boarded up, it frees us to hear clearly the voice of our Commander.
I played with Sam Lay, Jimmy Reed, Big Walter Horton, Big Moose Walker, and all those guys.
I've been giving free money seminars for the troops at Walter Reed Hospital and one of the Iraqi War Vets realized that the military wouldn't pay for the dental work he needed.
Football's not a bastion for toughness. It's not a bastion of anything uplifting or good for men or anybody else.