Marine who grew up on military magazines and war movies contemplates his future after losing leg in Iraq
On Aug. 3, 2005, in Ramadi, Iraq, Marine Cpl. Keith Davis took his last step with his left leg.
The Marines on patrol with him had left the house they were in without incident and continued on their way.
By: COLIN MCDONALD , The Enterprise
Davis, of Lumberton, stepped out into the alley and ran to catch up.
The first bullet exploded above the head of a man who was standing in a doorway, waving a friendly greeting.
"That's the kind of people you are dealing with," Davis said. "They shot at him because he waved at us."
Then another bullet hit a few feet from Davis' head; then another a bit closer. Davis stopped and scanned the buildings.
"I stayed because I wanted to know where they were shooting from," he said.
Davis saw the window a couple of stories up and two blocks over and the puff of smoke from the fired rounds.
"It was obvious once you saw it," he said.
Davis fired back and then ran to catch up with his men and relay the position of the new target.
"I felt it punch me," Davis said of the bullet. "I went to step forward with my left leg but it would not hold me and I fell."
The sniper's bullet splintered the left side of Davis' pelvis and sent the bone fragments ripping through his intestines. It cut off the top of his femur and exited at the top of his thigh - making a hole the size of a one-pound coffee can.
It also ended his third tour and was the beginning of the end of his lifelong dream to serve in the U.S. military.
Davis, now 23 years old, has spent the past year recovering from 13 major and 22 minor surgeries, learning how to live with a prosthetic leg and figuring out what to do with the rest of his life.
When he got the letter from the U.S. military telling him he would not be able to serve in combat again, he considered joining the Israeli army. Not because he is Jewish or believes in Israel, but because it would be an opportunity to be a solider again and fight for something.
Growing up, Davis knew the military was for him. He subscribed to military magazines and loved watching war movies.
"I don't watch them anymore because you see how fake Hollywood is," he said. "I'm sorry, but a single grenade does not blow up an entire house. ... I get my kicks now watching the real (expletive) on the news."
Davis' goal from high school on was to operate a machine gun from a helicopter, but a run-in with the law for possession of marijuana kept him out of that Army position. A Marine recruiter said they could not get him into a helicopter but they could get him a machine gun on the ground.
Davis signed up and six days after the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11 was off to boot camp and excited to go to war.
"It was black and white for me," he said. "You either died or you lived. ... Now it's like purgatory."
Lying face down in the alley in Iraq a year ago, Davis could not move or feel his legs. He could hear over his radio one of his fellow Marines saying he was dead. He radioed back that he was not and told them to come and get him.
A medevac was ordered. Davis was put in the back of a Hummer where a paramedic was waiting.
The doctors in Ramadi did not think he would make it and sent him by helicopter to Baghdad where he was stabilized for a flight to Germany. There doctors called his parents, Terry and Stephanie Davis, to tell them that Davis' odds of living were one in 10. Arrangements were begun for them to fly to Germany to say goodbye.
Instead, eight days and 53 units of blood later, Davis opened his eyes at the Bethesda Naval Hospital in Maryland to see his parents.
"He looked at me and went straight back to sleep," his father said.
At first Keith's mother could not handle the sight of her son. He was on a respirator, IVs were running into his arms, his left leg was still attached but a collection of bags, tubes and bandages were holding it together.
"She took it for about 10 seconds," Terry said of his wife. "Then she went screaming and hollering down the hall. ... I thought I was prepared but you are never prepared for that when it is your kid."
Terry and Stephanie became nurses for their son. They washed him and kept him company. They dressed him in full medical gear and accompanied him to his surgeries. When he was flown from Maryland to the Brooke Army Medical Center in San Antonio, they were at his side. Even Hurricane Rita passing over their home could not pull them from his bedside.
"Everything was put on hold," Terry said.
Terry was the one who talked Davis through the operation to remove his leg.
Once in San Antonio, Davis began to learn how to walk with a prosthesis. He moved from the metal hinged models to a German-engineered leg with an electronically powered hydraulic knee, called the C-Leg. It's a $183,000 piece of equipment which Davis is now learning to control.
He is doing his own therapy and checking in with his doctors once a week.
"I just have to prove I have not killed myself," he said. "The guy next to me (at Bethesda Naval Hospital) lost his eye, so I did not feel like I was the only guy getting screwed."
Davis has enrolled in "World Religion Studies," "World Mythology" and "People and Culture" classes at the University of Phoenix in San Antonio.
He wears shorts and said he does not try to hide the plastic and metal that now make up his left leg.
"I think it looks pretty cool," he said. "My nephew will just grab onto it and stare at it. I'm his Robocop."
Davis estimates he has seven more months in the Marines until he is discharged. He turned down the offers for a desk job that would have allowed him to stay in the service.
"That's not me," he said.
Now Davis is thinking of college, which makes him laugh because he never thought he would go to school again after graduating from high school.
After that he is not sure.
"I would like politics," he said. "I've seen a lot of idiots make it this far."