Iraq veteran survived suicide attempt now saving others

Vet Launches Suicide Prevention Campaign: 'I Am A Suicide Survivor ... And I Am Not Embarrassed By It'
Huffington Post
David Wood
Posted: 09/21/2013

Out on a mission one day in northern Iraq in 2009, a convoy of gun trucks grinds through rising dust. In the turret of the lead truck, Spc. Andrew O'Brien, 21, crouches behind his .50-caliber machine gun. His job: to watch for IEDs, improvised explosive devices. He swivels anxiously to watch the passing landscape for the deadly bombs hidden in trash bags, squashed cartons, dog carcasses, maybe that discarded truck tire.

From up ahead, another convoy approaches: U.S. military police in heavily armored vehicles known as MRAPS, supposedly invulnerable to bomb blasts. As they squeeze past, O'Brien and the gunner in the lead MRAP rotate their guns away from each other. Anonymous under their helmets, goggles and dust scarves, they nod to each other in a silent salute.

Not long after, they hear a ka-rump and there goes the slow-rising column of black smoke. O'Brien knows that other convoy got hit.

Back at Forward Operating Base Summerall that evening, O'Brien and his crew are lined up for formation. They cast sideways glances at a wrecked MRAP, the one whose gunner had nodded to O'Brien. A bomb dangling from a tree had detonated into the gunner's hatch. What's left of the MRAP is partially covered with a tarpaulin, and the sergeant is telling O'Brien and his guys not to look under that tarp; it's off-limits.

He couldn't help himself. Until then, the war had seemed almost distant. He wanted to know the worst. That could have been his truck, his guys. He thought seeing the worst would make him hyper-aware, help him spot IEDs and keep his own crew safe. After formation, he snuck around and lifted the tarp and peered inside. The wreckage hadn't yet been cleaned of human remains.
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