Noah Galloway Quotes

She was no longer hot to me. She was just the nurse who broke the TV.

I joked with my friends that I was doing so much with the kids my estrogen levels had risen. I was starting to get emotional during commercials.

I had another failed marriage, I owed thousands of dollars, and as the final indignity my car’s motor blew out.

Okay, life will go on from here. I thought to myself, My dad could do a whole lot with just one hand. Imagine how much more impressive it’ll look with two missing limbs. And I smiled the best I could through a wired jaw.

They did lower the dosage of my medication, the benefit of which was that I was more lucid. The downside: I was now very aware of where I was. I was aware that I was in the hospital, missing two limbs, and terrified about the future.

About three weeks before the marathon, I decided that I should probably start running. I don’t like to run, so I had been working out, but not actually running. I went to a state park and I ran a 5K, or 3.2-mile, trail run. It was not pretty.

We packed up some tarps and followed the man to a town called Pleasant Grove. I have cousins who live there, but I hadn’t driven through since before the tornado. It was unrecognizable. Houses were gone, cars were upside down and scattered all over the place. It looked like a war zone. And I would know.

I feel everyone should take a moment and have a little more appreciation for what we do have in this country and for the sacrifices others have made. I have lost brothers in arms who gave given their lives for this country, and I am proud of my badge of honor, the wounds of war I will always bear. I will always be proud to be an American.

When the speech concluded it was very late. One of Congressman Bachus’s aides took me back to the office to get Colston. We opened the door and those interns looked whooped. Ties were off, hair was all messed up, and my son was running around the room energetically asking to play another game. He was bouncing off the walls and his babysitters looked like they’d been hit by a truck.

When Tracy arrived I hopped in the car and the very first thing I said to her was “I gotta get home. I have to print out some TV guides and I need to write a letter to some of the guys in there.” She started laughing and when she could compose herself enough to talk said, “My sisters and I all said we guarantee Noah is going to come out of jail with new friends. He’s going to be friends with everybody.

I don’t even know what we were fighting about most of the time. We were staying in the Ronald McDonald House and the walls to those rooms are paper thin. We didn’t want to disturb the other families so instead of screaming we were whispering. We were whispering our screams at each other. One night it was just too much for me to deal with within those quiet walls. I grabbed the keys and whisper-snapped, “I’m going outside.

A few days after I’d had my shoelace meltdown, after many tears, I found myself drained of emotion, a hollowed-out shell. My mother saw the blank expression on my face and she saw an opportunity to drag me out of the fog. She took it. She came up to my bed, leaned in close--but not so close that the other people in the room couldn’t hear her, and said, “You just had to outdo your dad and lose your arm and your leg.” She smiled, waiting for my reply, but all I could do was laugh.

As I came out, all of the guys from my cellblock were lined up to say goodbye. The guard had this look on his face like, “What is going on?” I walked down the line shaking each man’s hands. They all told me they were glad they had met me. They told me that I made an impact on them. One guy said, “You came in here and you’ve been to war and back, you’re missing two limbs, but you still had a smile on your face the whole time. You’ve gone through so much and you are able to keep smiling. That motivates me.” I was really touched.

When we arrived, my sisters pulled the wheelchair out of the trunk and placed it next to the car door. They opened the door and Jennifer leaned down and with one swift motion lifted me up like a nearly weightless child and placed me in the chair. I laughed it off. “My sister’s strong. She’s really strong,” I boasted on her behalf. Sara, Katherine, and Jennifer were laughing the whole time because I didn’t realize how scrawny I was, how much weight I had lost. Jennifer could pick me up with no problem because I practically weighed nothing at all.

I was laughing, she was laughing, and I decided to go in for the kiss. I leaned in and then she suddenly leaned back. Crap. I was so embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I went in for it, and it wasn’t good.” I hung my head down. “No, no, no, I panicked! Please, try again!” she said. “No, I won’t make a fool of myself twice in one night. We’ll try again another day,” I said and I changed the subject. I was talking about something else for a while and then she whispered, “Just kiss me.” I did and it was incredible. Every moment I spent with this girl, I fell more and more in love with her.

Lunch with Jamie became a weekly event for several weeks. During that time I learned she liked the show The Walking Dead. So finally I got up the nerve to try to move beyond lunch. “Every Sunday night I go to a friend’s house and a group of us watch The Walking Dead. You should come over this Sunday.” I already knew she had Sunday nights off from the radio station, so I thought this was a great plan. But she hesitated before finally saying, “I don’t know. That sounds like a date. And I am a few episodes behind.” I told her, “You haven’t missed anything. Nothing that important.” I was lying. She’d missed a lot of stuff. But she finally agreed.

We arrived at the battalion just as it was getting dark. Ryan’s wife was a mechanic at battalion and he’d asked me to go see her. She had a carton of cigarettes to give him. I asked if he needed anything else before I left and he said, “Nah. Tell her I love her.” I told him I would. So when I got there I went straight to see her. She led me into this little café and we sat down with some hot tea. She gave me the cigarettes and we talked for a while about this and that and as I stood up to head out she said, “Hey, Noah, be careful out there. It’s dangerous where y’all are at.” I tilted my head to the side and said, “Be careful? I’m Noah, what can happen to me?” I smiled cockily and walked out.

I saw her as soon as I pulled into the parking lot. This beautiful woman with a gigantic smile on her face was just about bouncing up and down despite the orthopedic boot she had on her foot as she waved me into a parking space. I felt like I’d been hit in the gut. She took my breath away. She was dressed in workout clothes, her long brown hair softly framing her face, and she just glowed. I composed myself and got out of the car. She was standing with Paul Orr, the radio host I was there to meet. Local press had become fairly routine for me at this point, so I hadn’t really given it much thought when I agreed to be a guest on the afternoon drive-time show for WZZK. But I had no idea I’d meet her.

A few months later I got a call from a close friend, Jeff Bloch. “I was reading in Men’s Health that they’re going to do a search for a regular guy to put on the cover,” Jeff said. He went on to tell me that Men’s Health usually only had celebrities on their cover, but they were teaming up with Kenneth Cole to do this “Ultimate Guy Search,” and Jeff thought I should enter. During my Army days I used to tell the guys that I’d be on the cover of Men’s Health someday. Back then it was a real pie-in-the-sky dream, but I thought about it a lot. I even thought about it again after I was injured and started to design my own workouts. I thought I had a legit story for them. But of course it wasn’t a reality until Jeff’s call.

After mom left, I was doing well enough that I transitioned from the hospital room to sharing the room at the Mologne House with my dad. He was the only one of the family left on a permanent basis. It was just Dad and me in that one room. At times, that was pretty miserable! I would wake up in the morning and he’d be sitting there at this little table in the hotel room, drinking his coffee and just looking at me. I get it now; he was just being a dad. But while it was happening, I thought, What are you looking at, Dad? Quit staring at me. And then he also washed my clothes, which astounded me. He was doing things I’d never seen the man do before. So even with his annoying staring at me while I slept thing, I was grateful he was there.

All three of us had a good cry just before my dad came back to the room. Leave it to Dad to change the subject. “Noah, you need to take a shower. It’s been about a week. You need to be bathing, son,” he said without at all noticing that the timing might not have been the best. I had gone through a lot of surgeries. I had a lot of scars. Just having water touch my skin hurt badly. So, no, I wasn’t showering very often. But come on, did he have to say that right in front of Seth and, more important, Tracy? I was trying so hard to impress her. I tried to nip the conversation in the bud as quickly as possible. “Gotcha, Dad! Okay!” I said. I looked at Dad with an expression that suggested he drop it. Thankfully Tracy didn’t seem to flinch.

I couldn’t believe how into this girl I was, and we’d only been talking for twenty minutes. I was also dressed in gym clothes, because I’d been to the gym earlier. She looked down and saw the rubber bracelet around my wrist. “Is that an ‘I Am Second’ bracelet? I have one of those!” she said as she held up her wrist with the band that means, “I am second after Jesus.” “No, this is my own bracelet with my motto, ‘Train like a Machine,’ on it. Just my little self-motivator. I have some in my car. I’d love to give you one.” “Well, actually, I am about to leave. I have to go work out before my shift,” she reminded me. “You can have this one. Take it off my wrist. This one will be worth more someday because I’ve been sweating in it,” I joked.

One day I saw that The Notebook was out on DVD so I bought it. I will fully admit to enjoying a good chick flick every now and again. I didn’t really think Brandi would stay home to watch with me, so I scooped up Colston in my lap and turned it on. I knew it was sad and I prepared myself for what I thought was the sad part. I had my wall up in front of my emotions and knew this movie wasn’t going to get me. So the sad part came and I didn’t tear up, and I think, I’ve beaten Nicholas Sparks in this battle, and I relaxed. Then out of nowhere the movie hit me with another sad part. I was not expecting that. I thought to myself, Oh no, I am going to ugly cry. I sat Colston down in his bouncy chair and walked out of the room. I thought he was too young to see his father crying.

Hey, Noah, I see you’re getting back into shape. There is a race north of Atlanta that I just heard about. Look it up. I don’t know if you can do it, but if you can, I’d love to do it with you,” he said. I told him I would check it out and call him back. I looked it up online and found out it was a Warrior Dash 5K. People dress up to run the course full of easy obstacles and a lot of mud. It looked really fun. It was even a Scottish event, and the Galloways are Scottish. I called Jerry back immediately. I was all in on this! “This is awesome. Let’s do it! And if we do it, let’s grow full beards and wear kilts. I’ll find the kilts.” To date, this was the only time Jerry’s wife let him grow a beard. We spent three months growing our beards and then showed up at this race in our kilts along with twenty thousand other people.

After we finished the interview Paul thanked me for my time and told me he thought I was great on the radio. He suggested I think about it as a career. I thanked him and said I’d consider it. But really all I was thinking about was Jamie. As soon as I got in my car I looked on my phone and saw I had a Facebook friend request from her. I felt schoolgirl giddy. I accepted the request and immediately called my Army buddy Max. Max is one of the guys who came with me on that first Tough Mudder. We are really close friends, and he’s someone I’ve always confided in. Just a few weeks before I had called and told him, “You know what? I’m done with women for the time being, but the next time I talk to a girl, I’m shooting out of my league.” So now I called Max and said, “I’ve met a girl way out of my league and I’m gonna take a shot.

I was still in and out of consciousness so much, and so emotional. But there were little things that helped. I remember at one point hearing my dad say, “He likes music. I am going to put on some music.” He brought in a little red radio and left it on this Top 40 station all the time hoping to cheer me up. Top 40 stations play the same songs over and over again. At the time there was one song that stood out and struck a chord with me: Sheryl Crow’s “Good is Good.” I don’t know what Sheryl Crow’s intentions were when she wrote it, but I felt like she was singing to me directly. I really related to this song. The words would bounce around my head even when I was asleep, about things going south and that it was up to you to make it better. Things are only as good as you make them. I felt calmer and comforted every time I heard it.

One day Mom came to my hospital room and sat down on the edge of the bed, facing me. I could already see tears forming in the corners of her eye. She said she had something to tell me. Whatever she was about to say was hard for her to get out. Her voice was noticeably shaky and her chin quivered as she spoke. “Noah, I’ve got to leave and get back to work. And besides, I am helping you too much. You need to be doing more on your own.” She couldn’t hold it back at all and by the time she finished the second sentence the tears were streaming down her rosy cheeks. After a few deep breaths, she continued, “But your dad is here, and you know Dad, he’s not that helpful.” We both laughed at that as she leaned forward on the bed and grabbed my hand. I told her that I understood and that yes, it was probably best because Dad would help but not too much.

Well, my epic freedom moment was short-lived, because I realized my cell phone was dead. I walked down the road to a gas station and asked if I could use the phone. I called Tracy and told her where I was and asked her to pick me up. When Tracy arrived I hopped in the car and the very first thing I said to her was “I gotta get home. I have to print out some TV guides and I need to write a letter to some of the guys in there.” She started laughing and when she could compose herself enough to talk said, “My sisters and I all said we guarantee Noah is going to come out of jail with new friends. He’s going to be friends with everybody.” I got home and immediately wrote a letter to Michael Bolton. I put my email address at the bottom. I printed out TV guides. I printed out crossword puzzles. I even printed a couple of pages of jokes and riddles and whatever would be fun to read and do and folded them up and put them in an envelope. All that was left to do was to write the address, put a stamp on the envelope, and put it in the mailbox. I put the envelope in the car in between the seat and the center console to take to the post office. I must have been distracted or had to do something else because the envelope sat there for months. Every so often I would look at it and go, Oh crap, I haven’t sent that yet. And then at some point I spilled something on it so I knew I would never send it now. I threw it out. To this day I’m worried that one day I’m going to be at the gas station in line and hear a voice behind me say, “I’m Michael Bolton and you never sent me my damn TV guide. You’re just like the rest.” He’s going to shank me in my side and that will be the end of the Noah Galloway story.

Paul reached out his hand and introduced himself. And without waiting to be introduced she whipped out her hand and said, “Hi! I’m Jamie Boyd!” And right away she was talking a mile a minute. She was so chipper I couldn’t help but smile. I was like that little dog in Looney Toons who is always following the big bulldog around shouting, “What are we going to do today, Spike?” She was adorable. She started firing off questions, one of which really caught my attention. “So you were in the Army? What was your MOS?” she asked. Now, MOS is a military term most civilians have never heard. It stands for Military Occupational Specialty. It’s basically military code for “job.” So instead of just asking me what my job was in the Army, she knew enough to specifically ask me what my MOS was. I was impressed. “Eleven Bravo. Were you in?” I replied. “Nope! But I’ve thought about it. I still think one day I will join the Army.

One of the days we were there, the program leaders, or mentors, as they were called, told us we couldn’t go on any flights because of the threat of sandstorms. To kill time, the marine who had lost his hands and I decided to take advantage of the amenities in camp. So we headed to the pool. He wasn’t wearing his prosthetic hands and when we arrived, I sat down on the edge of the pool, dangled my right leg in the water, and took off my left leg. We joked about how these guys got to go swimming on their days off. I mean, days off? I certainly never had one. As the two of us removed our limbs to get in the water, we noticed one of the active-duty guys already in the pool looking at us. He did a double take before asking, “What are y’all doing here?” Without a moment’s hesitation, we both said in unison, “We’re on vacation.” We said it with a blatantly arrogant tone as if to say, You think you’re deployed. We think you’re on vacation.

I guess we’ll just have to cross this on foot and go over there to find whatever Captain Goodwin thinks he sees.” “I can get the Humvee through that,” I said. Jerry looked over and down and said, “No, there’s no way.” “Y’all go ahead and walk, I’ll worry about the Humvee,” I said. So they all got out of the vehicle and began to cross through the canal on foot. I assessed the situation and then backed up the vehicle. I threw it into drive and gunned the gas. The engine was so loud that the sound bounced off the trees. RAAARRR. I drove that truck right down the first side of the canal and came barreling up the other side. The nine-thousand-pound vehicle flew out of that canal. Once I roared through the canal, the Humvee behind me followed suit. We pulled up next to Jerry and five other members of our squad like a taxi service. Jerry was so stunned he didn’t even yell at me for acting like a fool. What was be going to say? “Don’t do that again”?

We started to snack on MREs (military “Meals, Ready to Eat”) we had in our packs. They were left over from the first deployment because no one ate MREs anymore. People were living in luxurious camps and eating meals prepared for them by kitchen staff. They had no need for MREs when they could have steak and lobster on Thursday nights. Well, we didn’t have access to that. We weren’t living in those camps. We were living in the midst of a war zone twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. So there we were with these old MREs that had been in extreme cold and then extreme heat a few times over. I opened mine up and squeezed cheese onto a cracker. The cheese was green. I scraped the putrid green cheese, the color of baby vomit, off and ate the cracker. I was hungry and had no other options. The other guys ate the expired MREs and started vomiting. Enough guys got sick that we were rushed some new kosher MREs. Yes, saved by the kosher meal option.

The canals had big, thick reeds, almost like trees, growing up from them so it was hard to see what was inside the reeds or to the other side of the canals. And then all of a sudden, as we were walking we saw something run through the weeds in one of the canals. It was large and black, a blur it was moving so fast. Now we were all chattering at once. What was that? “That was a cougar. It had to be a cougar,” I said. “No, that was a bear. Looked like a bear to me. That was a bear,” Jerry said. “You know when we invaded a lot of animals escaped from the zoo. It could have been a cougar.” Jerry again said it was a bear and then one of the other guys said, “There are no bears in this part of the world.” This silly argument went on for quite a while. We were all laughing and having a good time. Our mission had been pointless, so this helped lighten the mood. Someone even said they thought it was a ninja because a ninja is just as plausible as a bear or a cougar in the middle of Iraq.

On our first flight out, and for all the following ones, we boarded two Black Hawk helicopters. On that first flight, we were looking for the area where a marine in our group lost both of his hands. While we were airborne, the door was kept open. There were only a few pairs of headsets for the group, so whoever was the focus of the trip got first dibs on a pair and would help guide the pilot to the right spot. The rest of us shared the remaining few sets as we squinted against the wind to the terrain below. Right before we made it to this marine’s area, the guy sitting next to me handed me the headset. Just as I put it over my ears, I saw the marine looking out the window, and then I heard him say, “And that’s where my hands are.” Suddenly it wasn’t about me, the injured guy. I was privy to this man’s intimate struggle. It was a painfully shocking statement. I knew all of the rest of these guys were injured, too, but I don’t think it really hit me until that moment that these guys all faced the same kinds of struggles and confusion I’d faced.

When Jamie left for basic training I knew exactly what I had to do. Of course, I knew what it feels like to be in basic training. I knew the best thing I could do for her was to write her letters. A lot of letters. What’s funny is that when you write a letter you can feel like you’ve written so much, but that same letter can take two seconds to read. I remember getting letters when I was in basic, and I’d read them and think, “Man, that’s it? I read it too fast.” Contact from back home is so crucial. It means so much. I remembered how I felt. I remembered telling Brandi, “I don’t care what you say. Just ramble. Ramble about your day.” She never grasped that. It was always just this one-page letter and then it was done. So after I got Jamie’s address, I wrote to her every day. Every night after I put the kids to bed, I would write. I would tell her about everything that had happened--what I did, what the kids did, something funny one of them said. I just wrote as much as I could for several pages. Every night I wrote her novels and every morning I mailed them to her.

After we finished the interview Paul thanked me for my time and told me he thought I was great on the radio. He suggested I think about it as a career. I thanked him and said I’d consider it. But really all I was thinking about was Jamie. As soon as I got in my car I looked on my phone and saw I had a Facebook friend request from her. I felt schoolgirl giddy. I accepted the request and immediately called my Army buddy Max. Max is one of the guys who came with me on that first Tough Mudder. We are really close friends, and he’s someone I’ve always confided in. Just a few weeks before I had called and told him, “You know what? I’m done with women for the time being, but the next time I talk to a girl, I’m shooting out of my league.” So now I called Max and said, “I’ve met a girl way out of my league and I’m gonna take a shot.” I wasn’t good at asking women out and felt really nervous. I told Max she had sent me a friend request and he urged me to send her a private message on Facebook. I typed out a pretty long message and hit SEND. Then I finally put the keys in the ignition and left the radio station parking lot. Every red light I hit, I checked my phone to see if she had responded. She hadn’t. Why wasn’t she responding? Finally, I pulled over and looked again. The message hadn’t gone through! I panicked and called Max back. “What am I gonna do? What if I send another one and the first one is just floating through the Internet and it eventually goes through? Do I send another one? Do I make it sound exactly the same? I’m gonna look like a crazy person! What do I do? I don’t know what to do!” Max calmed me down again and I rewrote my original message. This time she responded. “Jamie, it was great meeting you and Paul today. Sorry you got stuck with a used bracelet. If I run into you again I will hook you up with a new one. You’ll just have to give that one back. They aren’t free. LOL. Take care.” She responded: “Ha ha. Actually, Noah Galloway, I got the one I wanted ;). Great to meet you, too. Love your story. Tragedy to triumph. I can’t imagine the number of people you inspire every day. Hope to run into you sooner rather than later.

There was one day where we were going somewhere that required us to be in an armored van. It had big bulletproof windows on the side and the seats faced each other. Everywhere we went we had a member of the infantry with us for protection and I was seated opposite one of these guys in the van. As we began to roll out, with Humvees in front of and behind us, I looked over at him. “Hey, man, will you switch seats with me?” I asked. He said sure and we swapped. I sat down with my left side on the outer part of the vehicle, closest to the windows. He looked at me with a puzzled expression and asked, “Why did you want to switch seats?” I answered very nonchalantly, “Oh, well, if I get blown up again, I’d rather it be on the same side. I don’t want to lose my right arm, too.” His eyes opened wide. I don’t think he’d ever even considered that he might get blown up. And he was probably shocked I was so nonchalant about such a catastrophic possibility. That wasn’t happening in his unit. I was coming at it from a very practical place, so I said it completely calmly. But I could tell I freaked out this guy.

Brandi and I struggled with our marriage, but it was obvious we were falling apart as a couple. That was probably clear to me even from as far away as Iraq, but I did try to make it better. One day I suggested marriage counseling. Initially Brandi agreed. I took advantage of the fact that the military has a program called Military OneSource. It’s basically one-stop shopping for all the help you could need from moving, to retirement, to marriage counseling, as it turns out. So I called one day and asked to be set up with a marriage counselor. The morning of our appointment Brandi decided she didn’t want to go. She didn’t give much detail other than to say, “I’m not going.” Annoyed, I said, “Well shit. I’m going.” I arrived and sat down in a chair across the counselor. He looked at the empty chair next to me and started flipping through the paperwork on his clipboard. Finally he looked up and asked, “I have down that you’re here for marriage counseling?” “Yes, sir, I am,” I answered matter-of-factly. Again he looked at the empty seat next to me and then back at me. And then, in a really deadpan tone, he said, “Huh. Seems like things are going well.

Being in the audience of the State of the Union is not a passive experience. Every few minutes when the president completed a thought, everyone stood up to clap. Stand up. Sit down. Stand up. Sit down. The sound of the springs in the aged chairs of the House Chamber became a secondary soundtrack. I was distracted by my discomfort and began to dread the end of his sentences. But then I noticed that not every person stood up every single time. I realized they only stood up when he said something their side agreed with. I decided that no matter what he said next, I was going to stay seated. I was really hurting. I was going to sit one round out. Well, as soon as I’d made my mind up that I was staying put, President Obama made a statement and everyone stood up. Everyone. Not half of the room. Every person in the room except me. It happened far too fast for me to correct my mistake. What did he say? “We need equal pay for women.” And I just sat there like a jerk. If the president himself had looked up and to the left, he’d have seen me just sitting there, seemingly opposed to equal pay for women! Good grief! I was not seated next to the first lady, thankfully. I made sure to stand up the rest of the time.

Once I got into college I didn’t think about joining up again. But on September 11, 2001, everything changed. Now my country was under attack. We might go to war and I needed to be a part of that. My country needed me. I just kept running until finally I stopped and realized I had run quite far from the house. And I was thirsty. I saw a gas station and headed that way. There were cars lined up all the way down the street to get gas. It looked like something out of a disaster movie. Everyone was freaking out. All of the people in the cars had the same terrified look on their faces. I walked into the gas station convenience store, grabbed a Gatorade, and got in line. And then when I got to the counter I said the stupidest thing I could have said. The cashier was a Middle Eastern man and I said to him, “Business is good today, isn’t it?” He glared at me like I was the rudest, nastiest person on the planet. He didn’t have to reply. His face said it all. Inside my head I was screaming, Why did you say that? I was so distraught over what I’d seen on the TV, about what was happening to my country, I think I had pulled up my imaginary shield and gone into emotional protection mode. It’s what I do when I am upset or uncomfortable.

Of course, with my parents, my three sisters, and Colston already sharing that one room, adding me to the mix made it just too crowded. So my sister Sara volunteered to sleep in my hospital room. When we were ready to settle in for the night, she headed back over to the hospital and climbed into my hospital bed. She tucked the pillows all around herself, got comfortable, pulled up the blankets, and fell asleep. She wasn’t asleep long, however. She was in a hospital, after all. Throughout the night, in a hospital, doctors and nurses go on rounds. In the middle of the night a group of doctors and nurses on the night shift all shuffled into the room, talking about my case, and startled Sara from her slumber. She poked her head out of the covers. The doctors all collectively gasped and one of them said, “Who are you?” She nervously laughed and said, “Oh! Sorry. I’m Noah’s sister Sara. Noah stayed at the Mologne House tonight with our family.” “Oh, he did?” the doctor replied, sounding very surprised but pleased. “Well, that’s huge!” They were still standing in the room so Sara said, “Yeah, it is. So I am sleeping in here.” She waited for them to get the hint. They started laughing and told her they would let her get back to sleep.

Then Obama walked into frame and I, along with the rest of the world, heard him say the words we’d all been waiting ten years to hear. “Tonight, I can report to the American people and to the world that the United States has conducted an operation that killed Osama bin Laden, the leader of al Qaeda, and a terrorist who’s responsible for the murder of thousands of innocent men, women, and children.” I couldn’t believe it. I felt joy, shock, excitement, and an overwhelming pride about being an American. The news cut to scenes of other Americans cheering in the streets. This was an awesome, fist-pump, proud-to-be-an-American moment. My phone pinged with a text message from an old friend, Mandy Goff. She thanked me for my sacrifice, for all that I and all of the other veterans and soldiers had done that led to this moment. She told me that she loved and appreciated me. That text hit me hard. I think up to this point I still had a pretty high wall up around my emotions toward the war, including the reasons I was there and the reasons why I came home less whole than when I left. But Mandy’s text tore a hole in that wall, and I completely broke down. I was sitting alone on the couch, nothing but the light of the television illuminating the room, and I was sobbing. Every emotion I felt that day and every day since just washed over me.

I got back to the vehicles and spotted Ashley Voss right away. She was standing there waiting with her rucksack, ready to go. I walked up to her, smiled, and said, “Hey, what’s up? I’m Noah.” “Hi. I’m Ashley,” she said without much emotion. “Cool. Are you excited to come to our area?” I flashed her a grin. After a brief pause she said, “Yeah, the medics can use a female.” She was acting like a professional and I was acting more like someone standing at a bar trying to buy her a drink. As if that couldn’t be more awkward, right at that moment my radio squawked loudly, “Hey, can somebody get me that female medic’s roster number? I need it before we head out.” It was Jerry, ruining my game. I leaned over and hit the button and said a little too proudly, “I’ve got the female medic with me now. I will get that for you.” And before I could ask her what it was, Jerry came back over the radio, “Galloway. You’re with the female. Why am I not surprised?” Ashley gave me her roster number, and I sent it back to Jerry. I turned to Ashley and said, “I’m not a player, just wanted to know more about you.” She didn’t look that convinced. We got in the trucks and drove back. At the potato plant all the guys started sniffing this girl out like a bunch of hound dogs. One of the guys ran and grabbed her rucksack for her and carried it into the medic station, like he was a bellhop.

Proper procedure for invading a house is to take a four-man team and “stack” it outside the door. That means the men are essentially in a line--numbered on through four. Number four comes around to check that no one has booby-trapped the house. He nods to number one. Number one then leans back on number two, number two leans back on number three, number three then pushes back forward on number two, number two pushes back on number one, number one nods to number four, and number four kicks in the door. Number one runs in, followed by two, three, and four. Everyone makes sure that the room is clear and then everyone stacks back in place for the next door. This is the way you move strategically and stealthily through the house until all is secure and any targets are apprehended. We arrived at our target house and Jerry was all fired up to knock in the door. We are all stacked up and I was number one, so I was the point man and Jerry was number four so he was the door kicker. We were all ready to roll until all of a sudden I saw something and held my hand up to motion, STOP! Then I put my finger next to my mouth and motioned for everyone to shush. There was a broken window in the door. I reached in through the jagged, broken glass and without making a sound I turned the knob. I just opened the door. I could see the look on Jerry’s crestfallen face. I had ruined Jerry’s moment.

I did not think of myself as a violent man. But the more times we were attacked, the more lives we lost, the harder it was to keep those demons at bay. It was another moment I found myself thankful to have Jerry. He was the rational, intelligent one. He kept me from letting the anger completely consume me and from doing anything really stupid. He prevented me from running wild through the streets of Yusafiah. But it was clear I was losing my grip on reality. One evening I was on the roof of a building at an intersection in some little town. I wasn’t wearing my helmet or my vest. I was just in a T-shirt. The roofs were flat and there was about a two-foot-high wall at the ledge. I stood there with my right foot propped up on the wall and looked out at the little town. I felt fueled with power. Like I was having the ultimate manly man moment. I could see then why people say power is addictive. I felt high on it in that moment. All my life I had strived to be “manly.” Everything I did was about being “the man.” And in that moment that is how I felt: completely dominant. As I stood on that roof unprotected and not giving a shit, I looked out over the town and said to myself, but as if I were talking to all of them, “Work with me or against me. I can either destroy you or I can help you.” I believed every word of that. Nothing could touch me. No one could hurt me. I was completely invincible.

Afterward, we went to grab a bite of dinner. Just like at lunch, we talked forever. We shut that restaurant down. They actually had to tell us to leave because they were closing. So then we stood in the parking lot talking. It was freezing but neither of us wanted to go home. We stood out there so long that the employees of the restaurant had already cleaned up and left. We were completely alone in the lot. Then she did the most adorable thing. I don’t know how the conversation had gone this way but flat feet came up. So all of a sudden she chirped, “I have really flat feet. I’m like a rabbit!” And then, without warning, she whipped off one of her cowboy boots and tapped her foot on the ground really fast. Bump-bump-bump-bump. “I’m like Thumper from Bambi!” she exclaimed. I couldn’t believe it. I thought, This girl is crazy and I absolutely love it. I was laughing, she was laughing, and I decided to go in for the kiss. I leaned in and then she suddenly leaned back. Crap. I was so embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I went in for it, and it wasn’t good.” I hung my head down. “No, no, no, I panicked! Please, try again!” she said. “No, I won’t make a fool of myself twice in one night. We’ll try again another day,” I said and I changed the subject. I was talking about something else for a while and then she whispered, “Just kiss me.” I did and it was incredible. Every moment I spent with this girl, I fell more and more in love with her.

When we arrived they led us into a room to meet privately with some of the nurses and doctors. They lined us all up in chairs and we went down the line introducing ourselves. I was the last one in the line. When it was my turn, suddenly I was overcome with emotion. I was too choked up to even say my name. I stood up but could only muster, “I can’t talk.” And I sat back down. I don’t know where it was coming from, but my emotions were powerful and paralyzing. Everyone carried on with the question-and-answer session and I just sat there taking deep breaths, trying to regain my composure. Finally, after I was sure my voice was steady and my tears were dry, I stood up and said that I’d like to speak. “I don’t remember coming through here, but I haven’t felt this emotional anywhere else. I know none of you were here when I came through or when these other guys came through, but you’re doing the same job. You’re doing it for other guys here now and I just want to say thank you for what you do, what you have to see day in and day out, not knowing how things go afterwards. I hope that with our being here, you’re able to see that we do move on. We do recover. And I wanted to say thank you.” I barely made it through the last few words before I choked up again. Tears streamed steadily down my cheeks. I looked around and everyone else was crying, too. Every guy in our group as well as every doctor and nurse. It was emotional for all of us.

One day the Galloways got a little more excitement than we were prepared for. We moved around a lot and at this point we were living in a trailer park in Auburn, Alabama. Hoss and I were out in the front yard on our regular patrol while my older sister Jennifer and younger sister Sara were playing by themselves. Sara was three years old and I guess she decided she wanted to go for a ride. My dad’s blue truck was out in front of the house and apparently he’d forgotten about the parking brake. The truck was in gear as Sara managed to pull the door open and muscle herself up into the cab. As she climbed in and got situated she kicked the truck out of gear with her tiny sneakered foot. The truck started rolling down the driveway toward a ditch. Jennifer started screaming. Faster than a speeding bullet I leapt into action! I ran toward her, blue cape flying in the wind behind me. I reached the truck. I grabbed on to the door frame of the open passenger side of the truck. I told Sara everything would be okay, and I stuck my heels down in the mud and pulled back with all my might. The mud was spewing from either side of my firmly planted boots as I started to slide along with the truck. I never lost my grip and I am convinced I was able to slow the roll down enough for Mom and Dad to come running out of the house. Dad jumped up into the truck and was able to throw the brake to stop the truck while Mom scooped up Sara. Super Noah saved the day. At least I wanted to believe that.

I saw her as soon as I pulled into the parking lot. This beautiful woman with a gigantic smile on her face was just about bouncing up and down despite the orthopedic boot she had on her foot as she waved me into a parking space. I felt like I’d been hit in the gut. She took my breath away. She was dressed in workout clothes, her long brown hair softly framing her face, and she just glowed. I composed myself and got out of the car. She was standing with Paul Orr, the radio host I was there to meet. Local press had become fairly routine for me at this point, so I hadn’t really given it much thought when I agreed to be a guest on the afternoon drive-time show for WZZK. But I had no idea I’d meet her. Paul reached out his hand and introduced himself. And without waiting to be introduced she whipped out her hand and said, “Hi! I’m Jamie Boyd!” And right away she was talking a mile a minute. She was so chipper I couldn’t help but smile. I was like that little dog in Looney Toons who is always following the big bulldog around shouting, “What are we going to do today, Spike?” She was adorable. She started firing off questions, one of which really caught my attention. “So you were in the Army? What was your MOS?” she asked. Now, MOS is a military term most civilians have never heard. It stands for Military Occupational Specialty. It’s basically military code for “job.” So instead of just asking me what my job was in the Army, she knew enough to specifically ask me what my MOS was. I was impressed. “Eleven Bravo. Were you in?” I replied. “Nope! But I’ve thought about it. I still think one day I will join the Army.” We followed Paul inside and as he set things up and got ready for his show, Jamie and I talked nonstop. She, too, was really into fitness. She was dressed and ready for the gym and told me she was about to leave to get in a quick workout before her shift on-air. “Yeah, I have the shift after Paul Orr. The seven-to-midnight show. I call it the Jammin’ with Jamie Show. People call in and I’ll ask them if they’re cryin’, laughin’, lovin’, or leavin’.” I couldn’t believe how into this girl I was, and we’d only been talking for twenty minutes. I was also dressed in gym clothes, because I’d been to the gym earlier. She looked down and saw the rubber bracelet around my wrist. “Is that an ‘I Am Second’ bracelet? I have one of those!” she said as she held up her wrist with the band that means, “I am second after Jesus.” “No, this is my own bracelet with my motto, ‘Train like a Machine,’ on it. Just my little self-motivator. I have some in my car. I’d love to give you one.” “Well, actually, I am about to leave. I have to go work out before my shift,” she reminded me. “You can have this one. Take it off my wrist. This one will be worth more someday because I’ve been sweating in it,” I joked. She laughed and took it off my wrist. We kept chatting and she told me she had wanted to do an obstacle course race for a long time. Then Paul interrupted our conversation and gently reminded Jamie he had a show to do. He and I needed to start our interview. She laughed some more and smiled her way out the door.

Jamie used the time away from me to do some soul-searching. She finally also did something she’d thought about for a long time. She walked into an Army recruitment office in Nashville and joined the military. She didn’t discuss it with me beforehand. Instead she called and said, “I’m joining the Army. It’s active duty and I’m going to be a truck driver with an airborne contract.” Shocked, I blurted out, “You’re going to do what? No you’re not.” “What do you mean? I’m gonna be a truck driver in a convoy.” I knew she was referring to a seventies country song she likes. Only this wasn’t a country song, this was real life. “Are you crazy? This is not a game. You will hate being a truck driver. You don’t even know if you’ll like being in the military. Go National Guard or Reserves and see if you like it.” “They said I’m already in. Basic is not for another few months but I’m in and I can’t change it.” “Yes you can. You are not in yet. You are not in the military. That was just a recruiter telling you that. Why aren’t you going in as an officer? You have a degree. You can make more money.” She seemed annoyed that I was raining on her parade, but I think it was also dawning on her that maybe I was right and she hadn’t done the research. “They told me that it’s not really that much more.” I explained to her, “They are lying to you. It is a lot more.” I had no problem with her joining the military. If that’s what she wanted to do, I supported it. But I was going to make sure she made the smartest moves she could make if that was in fact what she wanted to do with her life. I certainly wasn’t going to let her be talked into a lower-paid, higher-risk job.

I was, however, still very much an emotional wreck and sometimes this resulted in misdirected anger. Unfortunately, my sisters bore the brunt of that. Sometimes I would just blow up without reason or warning. Once, my sister Sara was in the room and she was just moving things around, trying to clean up, and I blew up at her. She was so stunned and upset, she just walked out of the room and into the hallway to cry. Another soldier in a wheelchair came by and asked if she was okay. Through sobs and tears she choked out a “yeah.” “Did your soldier yell at you?” he asked. She nodded yes and he said, “I don’t know why we do that. But don’t take it personally. We’re all going through it.” She calmed down and walked back in. She stood squarely in front of my bed and told me that I really pissed her off. Clearly I’d already forgotten I yelled at her because I looked at her with a bewildered expression and managed to push out through my wired jaw, “What’s wrong with you?” She glared at me and spat back, “You son of a bitch, you’re what’s wrong!” I was clueless. In fact, I pissed off my family members on a pretty regular basis until they figured out how to deal with it. They’d just control when I got to talk. My jaw was wired shut, but I could talk a little bit with some help. I’d had a tracheotomy so I had a hole in my throat. I had this little purple plastic piece that I could put in the hole that would keep the air from coming out so I could talk. Every time I woke up, the purple plastic piece was clear across the room. They didn’t keep it near me. I had to put my fingers over the hole so I could wheeze out, “Gimme…gimme…the…thing.” I think this amused them.

In the days leading up to Valentine’s Day, in addition to the daily letter I also made sure to send her a Valentine’s card and a different bar of chocolate. I was buying really nice bars of chocolate, all different flavors and kinds. She was only allowed to eat them right there at mail call, and sometimes she would get several packages at once, so even though it was hard to do, she’d share bites of her chocolate with other people. I also made sure to give extra thought to the regular, daily letter that would arrive on Valentine’s Day: Jamie, In the beginning of our relationship I criticized your expectations in a boyfriend. I told you that you watched too many movies and lived in a fantasy world. In a way I was asking you to settle. Even through our arguments about what was realistic and what was a fairy tale, I did everything I could to be your prince in a world where I saw you as the princess that you are. I was wrong to ever question you. Your standards never dropped and it forced me to rise up to the level needed to keep you. Like a storybook romance, I’ve defended your honor, showered you with love, worshipped the ground you walk on, and will faithfully wait for you while you’re away. You have made me a better man. Because of you I live a life I am proud of and have become the father, brother, son, and friend my family deserves. Your love has positively affected every aspect of my life. And for that I could never repay you. But I will happily be forever yours, paying off my debt and love for years to come. Like your favorite movie, Beauty and the Beast, a tale as old as time, we are living proof that fantasy can be reality. Love always and forever, Noah I’d never been that outwardly romantic before. I’d never worn my feelings on my sleeve quite like I did with her.

My mother’s brother Johnny was a Vietnam vet, and he too had been wounded. He had spent a long time in a hospital and he understood more than most what I was going through. Or at least he thought he did, and I appreciated that--even if I didn’t act like it at first. Uncle Johnny started to visit every weekend. He’d come and sit with me to give my parents a little breather. After my dad won the battle over my medication, I was, as I said, a little more lucid. I was also a little more ornery. I wouldn’t let anyone turn on that little red radio. I didn’t even care if Sheryl Crow was telling me what was good. I was more aware of my pain. Just lying there and listening or doing anything at all hurt. My whole body hurt and everyone and everything was to blame. All I wanted to do was sit in silence with the door shut. Uncle Johnny obliged me for a while. He’d come in and sit down in the chair next to my bed. He sat and stared blankly right along with me. But after a while, he couldn’t handle that anymore. One day, on the verge of dying of boredom, Uncle Johnny had had enough. He turned to me and said sternly, “Noah, I’m not gonna sit in here like we’re in an oversized coffin. We’re either opening the door or we’re turning the TV on. Which one do you want?” I rolled my eyes and grumbled for a few minutes before answering, “All right. Turn on the TV.” Without hesitation Uncle Johnny shot up out of that chair and reached up to hit the power button on the TV mounted from the ceiling. No sooner had his butt hit the chair seat than he was right back up again. “Fuck that. I am opening the door, too, because I want it open.” He vigorously emphasized his intention so I didn’t protest. He marched over and swung that door open. I swear he might have even taken a deep breath as if it were fresh mountain air. Then he came back to his chair and sat down.

I was thinking, The last thing I want to do is get in a wreck and lose another limb. I completely lost it and blew up at my father. “Why did you do that? I can’t get injured again! Pull over. I’ll drive!” I screamed. Dad is not the kind of person who would have ever taken that kind of behavior from me in the past, but I think he understood the paranoia. I’d asked him while I was in the hospital, “Did you ever think one of your kids would ever lose a limb?” And he said, “No, it never crossed my mind. I was always more afraid I would lost another limb.” It wasn’t until later that I realized how great it was of him that he kept his cool and understood where I was coming from. He just let me freak out and let me drive. I think in some ways it was the same kind of lesson he taught me as a child without ever saying a word. I watched him just get on with things with one arm. He never made a fuss about it. It was an example that growing up I didn’t know I’d need eventually. So I got in the driver’s seat and we continued on our way. After a while we stopped at a gas station to stretch our legs and get some snacks. I grabbed a lemon-line Gatorade and Dad grabbed something to drink and we got back in the car. I turned the car on, so the air and the radio were going as I tried and tried to get my Gatorade bottle open, but the top was too big and I couldn’t quite get my fingers to grab it, hold it, and twist it open. My finger strength just wasn’t there yet. So I put it between my legs and tried to hold it still while I twisted the top. I heard the creak of release as I managed to break the seal of the plastic orange cap but my legs were squeezing the bottle so hard that the bright yellow liquid squirted all over me. “Crap!” I yelled. I heard my dad snicker. I turned to look at him and he smirked while holding a can of Coke in his hand. “And that’s why I drink out of a can,” he declared with a smug grin. Click. Fizzzz. With one hand, Dad popped that can open and took a big slug of his soda.

As time passed, I learned more and more about the culture that comes with beign an injured veteran. There are a lot of really wonderful people and organizations to help veterans returning from war. Right about the time I started to really move forward in my recovery, two women came by and introduced themselves. They explained that they raise money to help injured veterans with various needs. They asked if there was anything I or my family needed. I said, “No thank you, I’m all good.” But my sisters piped up and said, “He needs clothes. He doesn’t have anything.” The women smiled and said they’d be back. They came back with some sweatpants and a shirt and then announced that they were taking us to the mall. This would be my first time leaving the campus of Walter Reed, my first real trip out of the hospital. We were all excited. Leaving the hospital was a big step for me but my poor sisters had been cooped up much of the time with me in there as well. I was a little nervous, but I owed it to them to push aside my anxiety. We decided that the electric wheelchair would be too heavy and too much trouble to get in and out of the car, so Jennifer wheeled me down to the front door where the ladies were waiting in their car. With very little assistance, Jennifer was able to get me for that chair into the car and we were off to the mall. When we arrived, my sisters pulled the wheelchair out of the trunk and placed it next to the car door. They opened the door and Jennifer leaned down and with one swift motion lifted me up like a nearly weightless child and placed me in the chair. I laughed it off. “My sister’s strong. She’s really strong,” I boasted on her behalf. Sara, Katherine, and Jennifer were laughing the whole time because I didn’t realize how scrawny I was, how much weight I had lost. Jennifer could pick me up with no problem because I practically weighed nothing at all. But through the laughter, I felt a pang of guilt. I am the brother of three sisters. It was my job to protect and care for them. Yet here I was, barely able to take care of myself.

I had always been a very physically active person. And I loved my job. I got into the military because of September 11, but I stumbled into a career that I absolutely loved. I was meant to be an infantry soldier. I thought, I will never be physical again and my career in the military is over. One tiny trip wire had taken everything away from me in one explosive moment. I sank into a very dark place. I wallowed in both my physical pain and my mental anguish. One day my parents were sitting by my side in the hospital room--as they did every day--and I turned to my mom and blurted out, “How am I ever gonna be able to tie my shoes again?” Mom rebutted my pity party with, “Well, your father can tie his shoes with one hand. Andy! Show Noah how you can tie your shoes with one hand.” And as I started to protest, Dad cut my whining off at the pass. “Oh my gosh, Noah, I can tie my shoes with one hand.” And he did, as I had seen him do so many times growing up. “I just need a little sympathy,” I said. To which Mom replied, “Well, you’re not getting it today.” A few days after I’d had my shoelace meltdown, after many tears, I found myself drained of emotion, a hollowed-out shell. My mother saw the blank expression on my face and she saw an opportunity to drag me out of the fog. She took it. She came up to my bed, leaned in close--but not so close that the other people in the room couldn’t hear her, and said, “You just had to outdo your dad and lose your arm and your leg.” She smiled, waiting for my reply, but all I could do was laugh. It was funny but it was also at that moment that I think I felt a little spark of excitement and anticipation again. It would take a while to fully ignite the flame but what she said definitely tapped into some important part of me. I have a very competitive side and Mom knew that. She knew just what to say to shake me up, so I could realize, Okay, life will go on from here. I thought to myself, My dad could do a whole lot with just one hand. Imagine how much more impressive it’ll look with two missing limbs. And I smiled the best I could through a wired jaw.

On my next weekend without the kids I went to Nashville to visit her. We had a great weekend. On Monday morning she kissed me goodbye and left for work. I would drive home while she was at work. Only I didn’t go straight home. I went and paid her recruiting officer a little visit. I walked in wearing shorts and a T-shirt so my injuries were fully visible. The two recruiters couldn’t hide the surprise on their faces. I clearly looked like an injured veteran. Not their typical visitor. “I’m here about Jamie Boyd,” I said. One of the recruiters stood up and said, “Yes, I’m working with Jamie Boyd. How can I help you?” I walked to the center of the room between him and the female recruiter who was still seated at her desk and said, “Jamie Boyd is not going to be active duty. She is not going to be a truck driver. She wants to change her MOS and you’re not going to treat her like some high school student. She has a degree. She is a young professional and you will treat her as such.” “Yes, sir, yes, sir. We hold ourselves to a higher standard. We’ll do better. I’m sorry,” he stammered. “You convinced her she can’t change anything. That’s a lie. It’s paperwork. Make it happen.” “Yes, sir, yes, sir.” That afternoon Jamie had an appointment at the recruitment center anyway for more paperwork. Afterward, she called me, and as soon as I answered, without even a hello, she said, “What have you done?” “How were they acting?” I asked, sounding really pleased with myself. “Like I can have whatever I want,” she answered. “You’re welcome. Find a better job.” She wasn’t mad about it. She just laughed and said, “You’re crazy.” “I will always protect you. You were getting screwed over. And I’m sorry you didn’t know about it, but you wouldn’t have let me go if I had told you ahead of time.” “You’re right, but I’m glad you did.” Jamie ended up choosing MP, military police, as her MOS because they offered her a huge signing bonus. We made our reunion official and she quit her job in Nashville to move back to Birmingham. She had a while before basic training, so she moved back in with me. We were both very happy, and as it turned out, some very big changes were about to happen beyond basic training.

I was headed into the final fitting of my leg. I’d gone through the test socket phase and my leg was finally ready. I was so excited! I walked into the physical therapy lab and shouted, “Man, I cannot wait to put this leg on and walk!” My physical therapist, Bob, and the prosthetist exchanged nervous glances. My right leg was still pretty weak and by all normal standards, I should not be able to walk right away. But then, of course, I never like to be like everyone else. They had me wheel over to the parallel bars to attach my new leg. “We’re just going to have you stand for now,” said Bob. “Nah, I’m walking.” I offered up my best shit-eating grin. “Let’s just see how it feels,” Bob replied with some firmness. I stood up and said, “I feel good. I feel really good.” Bob relented and they let me try to walk. They put a belt around me so that Bob could hold on to me as I walked the parallel bars. Most guys can use the parallel bars for support. I only have one arm so that only helped me so much. Good thing I didn’t really need them. I started walking without faltering right away. “Yeah, this feels good. I feel good. You can back up,” I told them. They backed up and I started walking by myself, holding on with one hand. Then, feeling bolder, I lifted my hand off the bar. I took a step. And then another step. I was walking without any help. I walked up and down those parallel bars the very first day I put on my leg. I did all this with an audience. Dad and Uncle Johnny were right there with me, watching and cheering me on. They were so excited. Uncle Johnny snapped a picture and sent it to my mom back home in Alabama. And as any proud mom would do, she sent that picture to everyone she knew. That picture went the pre-viral version of viral! It was a triumphant snapshot. I was walking again. And not only that, I was wearing those shiny new New Balance shoes the nice ladies had given me. As the picture made the rounds through my mom’s friends and friends of her friends and friends of friends of friends, somehow it ended up with people at New Balance. They reached out to my mom to ask what sizes of shoe Colston and I wore. She told them and then soon after that, Colston and I had matching sneakers.

When we left, we were told it would be another month before the winner was announced. Then I felt really discouraged. Friends were telling me that my injuries and my fitness level guaranteed me the cover. I felt the opposite. I didn’t feel I was as fit as the others and I felt like the war was too controversial a topic for the magazine to want to feature a wounded veteran. I had completely talked myself out of even the slightest possibility of winning by the time I was back on a plane to New York a month later to find out the results. My family didn’t believe that I didn’t know already. They thought I’d been told and kept asking me about it. But I really didn’t know. The winner was being announced live on NBC’s Today show. I had made my peace with not winning and Jamie and I were just excited to go to New York and be on Today. We had a layover in Charlotte, North Carolina, and when we landed there I had a voice mail from my friend Billy. His message: “I thought we had to wait to see who won? It’s already out!” I clicked onto my Facebook app and saw that Billy had posted a picture of him and some of his buddies at a truck stop in Kentucky posing with a Men’s Health magazine--and I was on the cover! I was shocked. But even then I was convinced this wasn’t real. Maybe the editors had decided to give the cover to all three of us and we each had a different region of the country. It felt incredible to see myself on the cover of that magazine but I just wasn’t convinced I was the outright winner. Jamie and I got to our hotel room late. I called my contact at Men’s Health, Nora, and said, “I’ve already seen the magazine.” There was a beat on the other end of the line before she flatly said, “We’ll talk about it in the morning.” So Jamie and I went to bed. The next morning we met up with Finny and Kavan and headed over to 30 Rockefeller Plaza for the Today show. I didn’t say a word about what I’d seen. When we arrived, Nora was at the door. I waited for the others to go in before I said to her, “So we’re not going to talk about what we’re not going to talk about?” I was smirking a little but quickly wiped the grin off my face when I saw the look on Nora’s. “You’re not the only person in this competition, Noah. Not everyone knows.” Roger that. I wouldn’t say another word.

One day, on the verge of dying of boredom, Uncle Johnny had had enough. He turned to me and said sternly, “Noah, I’m not gonna sit in here like we’re in an oversized coffin. We’re either opening the door or we’re turning the TV on. Which one do you want?” I rolled my eyes and grumbled for a few minutes before answering, “All right. Turn on the TV.” Without hesitation Uncle Johnny shot up out of that chair and reached up to hit the power button on the TV mounted from the ceiling. No sooner had his butt hit the chair seat than he was right back up again. “Fuck that. I am opening the door, too, because I want it open.” He vigorously emphasized his intention so I didn’t protest. He marched over and swung that door open. I swear he might have even taken a deep breath as if it were fresh mountain air. Then he came back to his chair and sat down. There was a movie on starring Matthew Broderick. I’d never heard of it before but Uncle Johnny was explaining to me that this was a remake and Gene Wilder had played Broderick’s character in the original film. In spite of myself, and my stubborn wish to sit and suffer in silence, I really liked the movie. And I remember thinking, I am really enjoying myself. I even turned to Uncle Johnny and said, “I’m glad we turned the TV on. This is great!” Uncle Johnny just smiled as if to say, “Of course! Finally!” We were right in the middle of the movie when one of my machines started to malfunction. The machine’s beeps drowned out the movie. A nurse came in to fix the problem and it just happened to be the hot nurse I had a crush on. She had short hair, a few tattoos on her arm, and she always wore a bandana over her head. The machine she was trying to fix was plugged in on the other side of the bed, up against the wall. “Oh, I see. Hold on. I have to move the bed out from the wall to fix this,” she said. At this point I was just watching her. She fixed the machine and pushed the bed back up against the wall. She actually hit the wall with the bed and zap! The TV went out! “WHAT?! NO!” I screamed. She couldn’t get it to turn back on. She tried but nothing worked. “Oh no, I’m sorry. We’ll have to get maintenance down here to fix it,” she said with an apologetic look that I met with a glare of disdain. She was no longer hot to me. She was just the nurse who broke the TV. Maintenance didn’t come to repair the TV until the next day. I didn’t get to watch the rest of the movie. In fact, I never saw the end of the movie and I didn’t even know the name of it until years later. Maybe one of these days I’ll get to see The Producers from start to finish.

As I started to feel more comfortable, I wanted to get to know these guys. I asked each of them to tell me his story. One of the guys cracked, “What’s with all the questions? Are you writing a book?” I said, “Who knows? I might write a book sometime and talk about all of this.” But for now I was curious. Some of them were super-intelligent, too smart for their own good. Others were as dumb as a box of rocks. In this way it did feel like a movie.

They’d never had anyone on the show who was missing an arm before. They’d had amputees on the show, but with different injuries. Mine posed a bit more of a challenge for dance. They mentioned Amy Purdy, the double amputee, who had been on the show, so I said, “Yeah, Amy Purdy is amazing, a very athletic, very impressive woman, but she has both of her knees. I don’t have a knee on my left side.” The phone went silent for a little while. But it didn’t turn them off. They just resumed talking. “Do you have any dance experience?” “No.” “Anytime in your life, if you were at a bar or a club, what did you do?” “I stood at the bar and ran my mouth. That’s what I do. I have never danced in any capacity. I don’t dance.” I was not trying to sell myself to them at all. I was being straight with them. Then they said, “If you decide to do it, we’ll put you in a house in L.A.” I knew then I had to say no to this show. “Well, I’m sorry, I’ve got three kids here and I can’t be away that long.” And without hesitation Deena Katz, one of the executive producers, said, “That’s fine. Your dancer will come to where you are and that’s where you’ll rehearse and come back and forth. Where do you live?” “Alabama.” She just answered, “Okay.” I don’t think they thought about that, either. Alabama is a long way from Los Angeles. We talked a little while longer and that was it. I never said yes. They never said I was doing it.

I think I can lift you up there and lock you out. But you’re going to have to trust me.” Because I don’t have a knee on it, my left leg was no help at all. I told her, “I’m going to squat down on one leg as you come at me, and put my hand level and as close to my shoulder as I can. And I’m going to have to put my hand below your belly button, so I have more of your pelvis to distribute the weight evenly. In one movement, I will press you up.” I told her I was going to have to push up straight from my shoulder. “You’re gonna have to come at me. I will put my hand out, then you’re going to have to let your body go over my shoulder. And let me press you up.” That took a lot of trust on her part. We took a deep breath and went for it. She came at me, I went down to one leg, and boom! The cameraman shouted, “Oh shit!” Our producer Alex said, “Oh my God!” It was awesome. We were going to use that at some point. But it wasn’t time.

So after I got Jamie’s address, I wrote to her every day. Every night after I put the kids to bed, I would write. I would tell her about everything that had happened--what I did, what the kids did, something funny one of them said. I just wrote as much as I could for several pages. Every night I wrote her novels and every morning I mailed them to her. That was all well and good until I found out I’d addressed all of the envelopes incorrectly! I’d left out one digit of the zip code on every single letter I’d written. I was devastated. Even though I had put a return address on them, I was sure they were stuck in post office limbo. I had this realization the same day I got my first letter from Jamie. I ripped it open and read it through gripped fingers. She told me all about her first few days in basic training, and at the bottom she added the most heartbreaking line, “I wish you’d write me. I know you’re busy and I know you don’t like to write, but I wish you would.” I couldn’t believe it. She thought I hadn’t written at all. I called a buddy of mine who is now Command Sergeant Major Phil Blaisdell, a battalion sergeant major at Fort Jackson, South Carolina. “Phil, I’m in trouble. Man, I’ve been sending her letters and I was putting the wrong zip code on them and I got a letter from her and she thinks I’m not sending her letters and I know she needs that.” “All right, let me call you back.” A little while later my phone rang. “I’m Command Sergeant Major Duncan. I am the battalion sergeant major of Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri. First of all, I’d like to tell you that I know who you are and I appreciate your service and what you’ve done. I’ve seen your Men’s Health issue and you are an inspiration. I understand you know a Specialist Boyd,” she said. “Yes, Sergeant Major, I do.” “Well, I’ve got her standing in front of me right now. Would you like to talk to her?” “Yes, Sergeant Major, I would.” So she handed the phone to Jamie. Jamie was a little stressed out because she had been called to the sergeant major’s office and thought, What have I done? The conversation was rushed and she was speaking in a hushed tone. “Hey, I miss you, I love you.” “Hey, me, too, baby. Let me tell you real quick, I’ve been sending you letters--” “I got them all today. Thank you.” “I miss you, and I hope that you can tell.” “Look, I want to keep talking but they’re watching me.” “Okay, we’re good. Just wanted to make sure you got the letters. I love you and we’ll talk later.

I just wrote as much as I could for several pages. Every night I wrote her novels and every morning I mailed them to her. That was all well and good until I found out I’d addressed all of the envelopes incorrectly! I’d left out one digit of the zip code on every single letter I’d written. I was devastated. Even though I had put a return address on them, I was sure they were stuck in post office limbo. I had this realization the same day I got my first letter from Jamie. I ripped it open and read it through gripped fingers. She told me all about her first few days in basic training, and at the bottom she added the most heartbreaking line, “I wish you’d write me. I know you’re busy and I know you don’t like to write, but I wish you would.” I couldn’t believe it. She thought I hadn’t written at all. I called a buddy of mine who is now Command Sergeant Major Phil Blaisdell, a battalion sergeant major at Fort Jackson, South Carolina. “Phil, I’m in trouble. Man, I’ve been sending her letters and I was putting the wrong zip code on them and I got a letter from her and she thinks I’m not sending her letters and I know she needs that.” “All right, let me call you back.” A little while later my phone rang. “I’m Command Sergeant Major Duncan. I am the battalion sergeant major of Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri. First of all, I’d like to tell you that I know who you are and I appreciate your service and what you’ve done. I’ve seen your Men’s Health issue and you are an inspiration. I understand you know a Specialist Boyd,” she said. “Yes, Sergeant Major, I do.” “Well, I’ve got her standing in front of me right now. Would you like to talk to her?” “Yes, Sergeant Major, I would.” So she handed the phone to Jamie. Jamie was a little stressed out because she had been called to the sergeant major’s office and thought, What have I done? The conversation was rushed and she was speaking in a hushed tone. “Hey, I miss you, I love you.” “Hey, me too, baby. Let me tell you real quick, I’ve been sending you letters—” “I got them all today. Thank you.” “I miss you, and I hope that you can tell.” “Look, I want to keep talking but they’re watching me.” “Okay, we’re good. Just wanted to make sure you got the letters. I love you and we’ll talk later.

I had just drifted off to sleep when Jerry woke me up. “Hey, we’re going to take the Humvee and pick up the rest of the platoon. They’re done with the gravel run. There’s no mission. We need empty seats in the Humvee. I just wanted you to know that we’re leaving. Go back to sleep,” Jerry whispered. I leapt right off my cot and said, “No, sir. If you go, I go. If y’all go and something happens I will never forgive myself. And what if y’all get into an awesome firefight? I’m itching for that. I’m not going to miss that. I am going and I am driving the lead vehicle.” Jerry protested. “What about Gebhardt? He doesn’t want you driving.” “He can yell at me when we get there,” I said. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s just go. And I want to drive. I never get to drive,” Jerry said. “Jerry, you’re not driving. You can ride in the Humvee with me but you’re not driving. I’m not going to let you.” Now, Jerry outranked me, which meant he could do whatever he wanted. But that was also why he wasn’t supposed to drive. I was talking to Jerry as a friend now, though. I reminded him of that conversation we had in the gym before we deployed. “I told you that I was never going to let anything happen to you. I would jump in front of a bullet to keep you from getting hurt. Nothing will ever happen to you while I’m around. You’re not driving.” He finally relented and said, “Okay.” We piled into the Humvees and headed out. Jerry rode with me in the lead vehicle. That’s not following protocol. The platoon leader should be in the middle of the convoy, but neither Jerry nor I ever wanted to be there. We wanted to be in the lead, always.

So we got to the show that night, and despite the injuries and setbacks in rehearsal, we kept the showstopper lift in our routine. I just focused on the steps and that lift. I still wasn’t feeling the emotions she wanted me to feel. At least I wasn’t until they played the video before we danced. It’s a very emotional video and I heard myself say in it, “The worst thing I ever did was not open up to anyone during my depression.” The way the dance started was with me standing next to a mirror where you could see I looked whole. I loved that Sharna came up with that concept, because one day I just told her about how looking in the mirror made me upset. And so she loved the idea of the mirror. When the dance begins, the mirror is there and I look complete, and then the mirror turns and I’m facing it. Then we go into the dance and I turn and then I pick her up to do a move where she goes back and then we do another move where I pick her up, spin her around into a cradle hold, and then down and then we hit the floor, we push back, we go into the star form, we come down, we rotate, we grab each other’s arms, we lift each other up, we hug, and then she goes to the left, and I turn and face her. I looked at her and nodded to say, “We got this.” She ran up at me and I lifted her and locked out and when I did it, I saw the crowd jump to their feet and cheer. I was reminded in that brief moment of the wall I climbed in my first Warrior Dash. Everyone cheered and I didn’t want to put Sharna down. When we finished, the crowd roared again, and in the judges’ comments segment, judge Bruno Tonioli told me that I was a titan among men. I felt amazing. We didn’t go home that week.

Rehearsals started that very afternoon. However, I learned a little while later that because I was the last person they signed on the show, I had the least amount of rehearsal time for that first dance. Yes, they gave the guy missing two limbs the shortest rehearsal time. That first afternoon was just a chance to see what I could do. Turns out I have really good hip action! So at least I was starting off with a plus.

I was determined to get this guy talking. Whenever we’d go to lockdown I was in there peppering him with questions in a friendly manner. I asked, “What are you here for?” All I got out of that question was, “Ever since that day. Ever since that day everything went downhill.” I regretted asking him that question and thought, Oh man, this guy killed somebody. I am going to have to sleep with one eye open! This balding, middle-aged man-child just sat there, looking nonthreatening. He had a pretty good belly on him. And his mannerisms struck me as childlike. He was always talking about his mom. In his mutterings about “that day” he also said, “I just wanna get back to my mom.” At first glance I didn’t find him threatening, but all this talk had me thinking he was like Norman Bates from Psycho and maybe he had killed his mother. But then he said, “Ever since that day when I turned two, my parents didn’t want me anymore.” When he said that I found myself thinking, I’d rather he had told me he killed someone. This is much, much creepier.

The show went live and we all filed out and sat down. The anchors started asking questions and I think they asked me what I hoped to get out of the show. Without thinking I said, “I just want to make my kids proud.” I didn’t plan that answer, nor did I plan to get all choked up about it right out of the gate. It was subtle, but my voice definitely quivered a little bit. I heard someone utter under his or her breath, “Oh, shit.” I didn’t mean to be playing to the audience already. That was my true, from-the-heart answer.

After we had first set up in the potato plant and I met Captain Segui, I had made it a point to be overly enthusiastic whenever I saw him. “Hey, sir, how are you doing today? Good morning, sir. Do you need anything, sir?” And he would laugh and say, “No, Galloway, I’m good.” People would ask, “Galloway, why are you so happy to see Captain Segui?” I’d say, “I want him to like me. If something ever happens to me, I want him to work really hard.” I knew he worked hard on all of his patients, but I think my campaign worked. He was on that night. He was not going to let me die.

I was just beginning to wonder how long I would have to wait when finally a guard sauntered up and said, “Galloway, get your stuff, get your bed.” I ran to my cell to get my stuff and I grabbed the toothpaste. The toothpaste was in this clear tube and was clear like hair gel. It had a muted, watered-down mint flavor. Everything you got in jail was made specifically to be as safe as can be. One of the guys told me, “Don’t ever take anything from being locked up. It’s bad luck.” But I told myself, You ain’t coming back. You ain’t getting locked up again, so you’re taking a souvenir. I grabbed that little clear tube and I put it in my pocket and walked out of my cell. As I came out, all of the guys from my cellblock were lined up to say goodbye. The guard had this look on his face like, “What is going on?” I walked down the line shaking each man’s hands. They all told me they were glad they had met me. They told me that I made an impact on them. One guy said, “You came in here and you’ve been to war and back, you’re missing two limbs, but you still had a smile on your face the whole time. You’ve gone through so much and you are able to keep smiling. That motivates me.” I was really touched. I kept going down the line, shaking hands and saying my farewells, and finally I got to Michael Bolton. He said, “Hey, man, I’ve asked people this before and they never follow through with it but I believe you will. Could you print out some TV guides? Because you know we just tell them the number. We don’t know what’s on at what time, what station.” I said, “Yeah, man, I’ll do that.” And I looked around to the other guys and asked, “Does anybody want any crossword puzzles or anything like that?” They all said that would be awesome. “All right, Michael, I’ve got your address so I’m gonna send it to you. And listen, man, I’m gonna give you my email address. When you get out shoot me an email. I want to stay in touch and see how things are going.” I turned to the guard who was still baffled by what was happening and said, “I’m ready.” He rolled his eyes and opened the door. We walked out and they handed me my clothes. I pulled off the orange jumpsuit and tossed it. I changed back into my clothes. I signed everything I had to sign, got some paperwork to take with me, and walked out a free man again. Well, my epic freedom moment was short-lived, because I realized my cell phone was dead. I walked down the road to a gas station and asked if I could use the phone. I called Tracy and told her where I was and asked her to pick me up. When Tracy arrived I hopped in the car and the very first thing I said to her was “I gotta get home. I have to print out some TV guides and I need to write a letter to some of the guys in there.” She started laughing and when she could compose herself enough to talk said, “My sisters and I all said we guarantee Noah is going to come out of jail with new friends. He’s going to be friends with everybody.

While she was gone, since I was already sending her letters every day, I ordered envelopes that had her address on them and little stickers that had my return address that I’d stick on the envelopes. I didn’t stop there. I also ordered some stamps that were a picture of her and me. Even though I sent the letters every day, some days she would get several at a time. Each letter I wrote was several pages long, so I’d take one page and I’d glue one stick of gum in the middle and fold it up. So she could have the gum they weren’t allowed. She said she would chew on it at night in bed. I had experienced enough of that world to know those little things mattered. I knew exactly what her days were like and how hard they were. She was getting so much mail that when they called out names to pass out the mail, they’d just toss Jamie’s on the ground and she’d have to pick it up. And they made fun of the envelopes with the stamps I’d had made. But she got all her mail. She was at Fort Leonard Wood for six months--from October until March. I made sure she got tons of mail the whole time. But this also meant she would be there on Valentine’s Day. I made sure that she felt loved on that day. I bought her a Valentine’s Day card and enclosed a chocolate bar in that letter. The card read: Jamie, we can’t be together for Valentine’s Day, so I came up with a way to at least show you how much you are loved. Valentine’s Day is twenty-four hours long. So expect twenty-four separate packages with a card and chocolate. I’m so proud of you. Love always and forever, Noah.

When I got home, it was late at night. I walked into my room and it was painfully empty. And then I saw it. On the bed were the engagement ring and a letter. I couldn’t read the letter. I still have it but have never read it. I was too sad and ashamed about hurting her. Because I’d proposed to her on national television and now had some celebrity status, my management team said that we needed to make a statement. It could be in our own words, but Jamie and I had to make a statement announcing our breakup. We wrote it together over email and then we chose a date and time to post it. We texted each other right before we had decided we would post it, and then we each hit ENTER on our keyboards. There’s nothing more final than an official statement declaring to the world that your relationship is over. It was the hardest breakup I’ve ever had. And that is not a dig at Brandi or Tracy. I just think I was older, more mature, and more capable or forming a deeper connection with Jamie. And I did. I had a deeper connection to her than to anyone else I’ve ever known. As painful as it was to walk away from her, I know it was for the best for her and for me. And I will forever be thankful for the time I had with her. She made me a better person.

With everything that has happened, it would be really easy for me to crawl in a hole and say, “It’s not fair.” But I feel the opposite. A friend of mine asked me once, “If time travel were real, where would you go?” I said, “I would love to go back to when I was first in the hospital. I would go back and tell myself that everything is going to be okay. You are going to have some ups and downs, but you’re going to be fine.” He looked at me and said, “If you could go back in time, why wouldn’t you just go back and stop yourself from being injured?” I said, “I hadn’t thought about that. But I wouldn’t do that.” I wouldn’t change anything that happened to me. If I had a do-over I would want to go through that depression, would want to go through everything that happened. I would want to screw up and end up spending ten days in jail. All those things had to happen for my life to come out the way it did. I wouldn’t change anything. Do I still get pissed from time to time that I have one arm and one leg? Yes, I do. Do I put on a pair of blue jeans and think, Man, from the right side this looks amazing, and then turn and look in the mirror and see that the left side the leg is smaller, the left butt cheek is smaller, and get pissed off? That’s just pure vanity, but yes, it’s there. But then I say, You know what, that’s okay because everything else is good.

When Jamie left for basic training I knew exactly what I had to do. Of course, I knew what it feels like to be in basic training. I knew the best thing I could do for her was to write her letters. A lot of letters. What’s funny is that when you write a letter you can feel like you’ve written so much, but that same letter can take two seconds to read. I remember getting letters when I was in basic, and I’d read them and think, “Man, that’s it? I read it too fast.” Contact from back home is so crucial. It means so much. I remembered how I felt. I remembered telling Brandi, “I don’t care what you say. Just ramble. Ramble about your day.

Being with Tracy and Colston distracted me from all of the unresolved issues I felt about Iraq, about my injuries, and about my uncertain future. She also helped me cope with the little moments when I forgot to be distracted. She cut up my steak for me when we went out. One time when I couldn’t open a jar I got very mad. But she just came over and opened it for me. She didn’t make a big deal about it; she just did it. I told her, “You know how hard that is as a man to have you open a jar for me? I am supposed to be doing these things for you and I can’t.” But she told me that was no big deal. And she made me feel like it wasn’t. I struggled a little with Colston as well. I was capable of taking care of him in many ways, but it was hard and little things would trip me up. Putting a sock on a toddler with one hand will absolutely stress you out. It’s funny now, looking back. But back then I really struggled to get a sock on that boy.

Rehearsals started that very afternoon. However, I learned a little while later that because I was the last person they signed on the show, I had the least amount of rehearsal time for that first dance. Yes, they gave the guy missing two limbs the shortest rehearsal time.

At our first rehearsal for team week, Robert and I were put on the same team. That first rehearsal was mostly for the pro dancers to figure out the choreography and the themes. Robert and I knew we couldn’t contribute much, so we hung back and joked around. Then someone told us that there was beer in the refrigerator in the rehearsal room. That wasn’t normal, and since we were just hanging around, Robert and I each decided to go grab one. The cameras stayed on us as we came back into the studio. Everyone looked up and we said, “This dancing stuff is hard!” Everyone laughed and then the serious people got back to work.

As we stood in the red room waiting for our scores, the operation was put in motion. Earlier I’d given the ring to the show’s production assistant, Tracy. She discreetly handed the ring to Sharna behind her back. I was waiting for my signal. Sharna hit me on the back with the ring in her hand and I reached back and grabbed it. I turned to Jamie. “You’ve been so supportive,” I said, “I love you so much, Jamie, and there’s no better place I’d rather do this than right here.” And I went down to one knee and asked her to marry me. She said yes and hugged me. Erin Andrews, who had no idea, said, “Oh my gosh! Jamie, did you say yes?” Jamie replied, “Oh, heck yes!” Everyone in the room was crying and cheering. It was amazing. After the cameras stopped rolling to cut to commercial, Erin pretty much collapsed into a chair and said, “Oh my God, Noah, you could have told me! I almost cried on national television.