Friday, September 07, 2007

Soldier's sacrifice etched in bronze

When Jay Wilkerson awoke from his eight-day coma in April 2006, he didn't know if he was still in Iraq or back home in the United States, or that the man sitting alongside his hospital bed was his brother Tomy. That day marked the beginning of Wilkerson's long and unfinished journey "to become whole again."

Thursday, Wilkerson received the Bronze Star - one of the military's highest accolades - for his meritorious service in Iraq during a ceremony at the Veterans Affairs hospital in Palo Alto as his proud family and fellow wounded soldiers looked on.

Many in the crowd of 200 people at the ceremony thought he'd never live to see this day.

"We were really scared," said Toiansanita McNeil, Wilkerson's sister. "We didn't think he was going to make it to what he is today, which is living on his own (and) writing poetry."

Wilkerson was a commander of a Humvee in March 2006 when an improvised explosive device violently rocked the vehicle en route from Al-Fallujah to Baghdad. The 42-year-old Army staff sergeant suffered a traumatic brain injury that affected his short-term memory, eye sight and cognitive ability, and also the loss of his "big brother" and fellow "Gladiator" fan, Robert Hernandez, who died in the seat next to him.

Wilkerson's recovery began at the VA Hospital in Palo Alto, where over the past year he has relearned how to speak, drive, dress himself, eat and live on his own. Wilkerson's slight stutter is an indication of his speech troubles, but he found that poetry offered him the best medium to express himself.

"It was the only thing I had that was still whole for me, that was a part of me and connected me with who I used to be" said Wilkerson, who grew up in El Sobrante and now lives in Palo Alto.

At the ceremony he read a poem he composed the night before titled "The Bronze Star," inspired by the soldiers recovering with him in the Polytrauma Transitional Rehabilitation Program and the staff at the VA hospital, but most importantly the soldiers still fighting in Iraq.

He also composes poetry for other soldiers' recognition ceremonies at the hospital.

Wilkerson is viewed as a leader and big brother to many soldiers in the rehab program, said Paul Johnson, the program's co-director. Wilkerson works out in the gym and swims at the VA pool every other day with recovering soldiers from Iraq and veterans who served in World War II and Vietnam.

"He's one of the more mature guys here," Johnson said. "He does try to present a grown-up perspective of things and he tries to remind guys that they're here for a reason, that they're here to work on themselves."

One of the main lessons Wilkerson tries to teach fellow Iraq veterans is that it's OK for a soldier to cry. He found that out for himself when he became frustrated with his inability at first to recognize his sister and brother, or to remember the names of his two children.

"Many veterans feel like if you cry, you're not being a soldier," he said. "That's not the case because it's important that you express your feelings, you show that you have a heart."

Wilkerson now lives on his own and has regained his driving privileges. He intends to major in English at De Anza College in the near future and to publish a book about his experiences and a compilation of poetry he's written.

He also has just finished filming for the James Gandolfini documentary "Alive Day Memories: Home From Iraq," which premiers Sunday on HBO (see Charlie McCollum's preview on Page 1C). The documentary features the stories and physical recovery struggles of him and nine other soldiers and Marines who served in Iraq. Wilkerson hopes the documentary shows the American public why citizens like him choose to serve.

"I want people to know that it's not just about the military . . . it's about the men and women who actually went there," he said. "It's for the public to understand that I'm doing it for you and those living in the U.S. who I don't even know."

Despite the upcoming media debut, receiving the Bronze Star is among the most cherished experiences of Wilkerson's life.

"That was the proudest moment that I could experience, except for maybe my wedding day," he said. "To be honest, I had tears in my eyes. They were actually tears of joy."

MercuryNews

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