Marine Corps News Room

http://www.morningjournal.com/site/index.cfm?newsid=19143316&BRD=1699&PAG=461&dept_id=566374&rfi=8

Morning Journal Writer
12/25/2007

Looking at him it's hard to imagine what he's been through. He laughs every chance he gets, making a conscious effort not to take things too seriously.

He's a typical 20-year-old guy with a girlfriend and dreams of becoming a firefighter. He dresses in the latest jeans, logo T-shirt and hooded sweatshirt. He's not shy. Colin greets people with his smile, pauses for a second to collect his thoughts, concentrates, give a stern hello and holds his hand out to shake.

The only thing that makes Colin different is that he wears a helmet. And even that is temporary.

Colin was serving with the 2nd Battalion 8th Marine Regiment in Iraq when he was shot in the head while patrolling near Al Anbar Province on Oct. 30, 2006. The bullet went through his helmet and through his brain, destroying a large portion of his it -- damaging the lobes that control speech and movement.

The injury shattered part of his skull, forcing him to wear the helmet to protect what is left of his brain. Robert Smith, Colin's father, said it bothered Colin at first when people stared at the protective gear.

''I told him, ÔLook, you're wearing a helmet and you're not on a skateboard, what do you expect?''' Robert said. Colin arrived home several months ago and is living with his father and stepmother in Lorain, where they are adapting to physical and mental restrictions placed on him by the injury.

Colin has lost much of his ability to speak or understand spoken or written language. During his rehabilitation, he will need to relearn the most basic functions of everyday life.

Doctors said Colin would never walk or talk again. Today, he is considered a miracle. He can walk with the assistance of someone who holds on to the back of a belt wrapped around his waist. Colin does not have use of his right arm or leg, but luckily he is left-handed and the right leg can be used for balance.

He understands what people are saying, but has difficulties finding the words to respond. He uses verbal cues from those around him to get to the words. Each phrase Colin says on his own is added to a list. Every day he recites the phrases to restore them to his memory bank. The list has grown considerably over the last few months.

He carries around an index card that explains his injury and the resulting condition. When he can't find the words fast enough, he simply hands the person the card.

Colin has two goals for his recovery: To be able to read and to be able to drive again.

''We're working on it, since they said he'd never ever talk again,'' Robert said. He hopes to one day see his son get married and have a family.

Robert said the first time he heard his son laugh was music to his ears. ''I knew it was in there, but to actually hear it was earth shattering,'' Robert said. ''He's been smiling like that since day one.''

After being shot, Colin's fellow Marines put out a distress call, but they soon found out it would take 40 minutes for rescuers to get to them. Two nearby gunship pilots heard the call and rushed to his aid. They jettisoned weapons and ammunition from the plane, loaded in Colin, flew across enemy lines and got him to a military hospital within 15 minutes of the attack.

The next day he was flown to Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Germany, where doctors held out little hope for his survival after seeing the amount of damage. Doctors called his father and told him to book the next flight to Germany.

''The military doesn't beat around the bush,'' Robert said. ''They told me he had a critical injury.''

Robert took out a pen and paper and began expressing his thoughts in writing to try to prepare himself for the loss of his only son. A veteran himself, Robert respected Colin's decision to serve his county, but he never prepared himself for this.

''I know you're gone now,'' he wrote.

But Colin was still alive. He had survived two days with a severe head wound. Maybe there was a chance, Robert thought.

He didn't want to sit at Colin's bedside and be on deathwatch and told the doctor he would not be flying out to Germany. Days later, Robert received word Colin had stabilized and was on his way to the Naval Medical Center in Bethesda, Md. Robert stayed with Colin at Bethesda while he was in a coma. Robert knew that his son's strength and above all else, his stubbornness, would help him pull through.

Colin woke up three weeks after arriving at Bethesda.

Doctors still can't explain it. As the weeks progressed, Colin continued to improve. But Robert didn't need an explanation. His son was back.

''If there is anyone out there with a similar circumstance, not just military guys, there's a lot of people out thereÉ whether it's cancer or being wounded in the war you can't control it but you can control how you react to it,'' Robert said. ''There is so much strength from within when you accept things.''

When Colin arrived at Bethesda, doctors said at best he would be in a vegetative state. As the weeks passed, Colin stunned doctors and served as an inspiration to everyone around him. On Dec. 11, he was transferred to a veterans clinic in Minneapolis, a level one poly-trauma unit. He uttered his first words in January and was released from Minneapolis in September. He now receives treatment at a veterans' clinic in Cleveland.

''Colin inspired me before he was injured,'' Robert said. ''He is a very strong individual. What he's done during his recovery is so like him, it doesn't even surprise me.''

Colin went back to Bethesda in the summer for a skull transplant.

The polycarbonate plate was a perfect fit. Colin's family was elated, but 10 days after the surgery, the transplant became infected and it had to be removed immediately.

After the transplant was removed Colin said he felt ''angry, frustrated, disappointed.'' Robert said Colin doesn't get mad often, but he was furious when the transplant failed. He is slated to try again next month.

During his return visit to Bethesda, Colin made an effort to visit families whose children suffered similar injuries.

''We returned to the fifth floor to ICU where we started,'' Robert said as Colin listened. ''They rounded up families of soldiers not likely to survive. They were given the same prognosis as us. Colin shocked them out of shock. They cried at what he had accomplished.''

But they didn't want to give the families false hope. Colin's rapid recovery was considered a miracle.

''His neurosurgeon said he never thought in 10 years he'd go as far in six months,'' Robert said, adding that the doctors said he could still make a full recovery. ''We know we will go farther than we are now.''

Robert said Colin would sit at the wounded soldiers' bedsides and hold their hands or give them a hug. Ê

''He let them know they weren't alone,'' Robert said, as he looked at Colin.

''Right?''

''Right,'' Colin said.Ê

Three families Colin spoke with had very different outcomes. One soldier followed Colin to Minneapolis and continues to recover. Another soldier went to Richmond, Va., and can already drive a car again. The third soldier died about a week after being introduced to Colin. The family visited him before the funeral to thank him for giving them a week of hope.

Robert and Colin have accepted the injury and Colin said he forgives the man that shot him.

Robert looked at Colin as he stared back.

''Do you forgive the man who shot you,'' he asked Colin.

''Yes,'' Colin said with a smile.

Any mention of the Marines brings a smile to Colin's face. Several weeks ago, Colin helped prepare care packages for his Marine buddies who were recently called back to Iraq on Oct. 31 -- a day after the anniversary of his injury. More than 10 of his friends took the time to call Colin before shipping out.

The Smiths have met a lot of wonderful, caring, generous people during their journey over the last year. They have received all kinds of support, from all kinds of people.

During this holiday season, Colin and Robert want people to look at the big picture and laugh.

''Find something to laugh about,'' Robert said as he looked at Colin. ''Even in the lonely days of the ICU, the nurses would pop in and they, from years of practice, didn't dwell on the injury. They would crack jokes and laugh.''

The father-son team also encourages people to get out and help someone else.

''Give yourself a reason to feel useful. There are people out there who need you,'' Robert said.Ê

This Christmas, Colin and his family will gather and give thanks for being together, something that became a reality through strength, love and laughter. And Colin's big smile will continue to serve as inspiration to all those around him.

jbracken@morningjournal.com