When we landed, my son's platoon sergeant was waiting to escort us directly to the hospital. The ride was made easier by Sgt. Sarracino's demeanor and courtesy, but you can't imagine the anxiety that had built up in me during the six-and-a-half hours it took to arrive there.
To my surprise, the Army had arranged for us to stay in a quiet, comfortable room in a small house on hospital property. Sgt. Sarracino helped us drop our luggage off and then led us to my son's room, about a five-minute walk away.
When I saw Josh and was told his status, the reality of the situation set in. Josh, my oldest son, had been shot in the head with a 9 mm round which blew up on impact. The bullet fragments had done severe damage. Josh was unconscious and on a respirator. Any hopes of him surviving quickly disappeared.
Like many of you, I had seen this scenario many times before, during my investigations. Few victims, if any, ever survived. No matter how much you prepare yourself for what you will see, it's never enough.
The decision was made to remove the breathing tube to make my son more comfortable. There was a good chance, however, we would lose him on doing this. We prepared by saying our goodbyes to Josh. This is probably the most unnatural act a parent can do for his child. It's almost like something dies inside you. The only thing I can relay to you, is that the intensity of those feelings changes you forever.