Interview One: Aaron Rice

In 2005, Lance Cpl. Aaron Rice (Mississippi State ’08) lost his leg to the explosion of an anti-tank land mine while driving on a routine patrol in Iraq. A reservist with the Marine Corps, Rice has also worked on the campaign of Mississippi Governor Haley Barbour (Mississippi ’69). He is now in law school at Ole Miss.

I’ve always been interested in societal problems and policy.

The law is really where policy meets the road. It’s how something plays out in the courtroom that decides what the words of the law mean. It was a way for me to make a career out of it, as opposed to just watching it on TV.

My senior year, September 11 happened. I had already decided not to make the military a career and was ready to go to Mississippi State. But I instinctively knew we were going to war, so I decided to split the difference and join the Marine Corps Reserve.

My grandfather was a Marine in World War II. He was a guy who, you could tell, had been in the military. I respect him for it, but I didn’t know him on a personal enough level to say that I wanted to do what he did.

I always hoped my drill instructors didn’t ask me why I joined the Marine Corps. I had the answer you’re not supposed to give – I want to serve my country.

I was a military-aged male sitting around, having an easy life. It did not seem right to not be a part of it.

I was a good Marine, but I don’t think, looking back, that my personality would mesh with a long-term military career. Back then, I wanted to be a badass.

I had a friend who just got out of the Marine Corps boot camp. Talking to him got me to try it. I grilled him, I knew all the inside stories and all the tips.

If you fail at something, you fail. You don’t try to lie. You don’t try to cover it up.

When I got hit, guys didn’t know what happened. Guys didn’t know if there were mines, they didn’t know if there were mortars coming in. Do we move? Do we help people? I remember my platoon sergeant saying that a helicopter couldn’t come in until the mortars stopped coming.

The actual explosion slowed time.

I knew while it was happening that I was being blown up. My first conscious thought was “Who is that screaming?” My second thought was, “Oh, God, that’s me.” I started getting some feeling back and I felt the air coming out of my lungs. That’s when I realized it was me.

The next thing I thought – and this is human pride coming out – is that I wondered if I had a face.

Everything, at that point, is slow and deliberate.

The smoke was still clearing and I looked right at my leg. When I saw it, I knew it was gone. The finality of that sunk in immediately.

I remember reading an article, before I got in I think, about amputee veterans and how great the prosthetics were. I was a civilian at this point. A few years later and here I am glad that I’m getting a good prosthetic.

The hardest part came after. It was knowing that what I had gone there to do, when the time came, I wasn’t able to do. I wanted my primary objectives to be going to fight the bad guys. I was supposed to be there for my guys, just like they were there for me. But there I was in Walter Reed in Washington, probably sleeping.

When you come home and talk to your wife and your friends, they try to make you understand that there was nothing you could do. But that doesn’t make your guilt go away.

I grew up in the Mississippi Delta around a lot of poverty, but I didn’t notice because it’s what I grew up with. Being in Iraq and seeing real poverty reminds you it’s a big world. Coming home, it was like I was looking around for the first time.

My foot makes a lot of noise. It’s bad when I’m walking through the library and it’s squeaking. People don’t like that.

Amputee secret: Doctors want you to wash your leg sleeve with antibacterial soap, but you learn to put rubbing alcohol in a bottle and just spray it off.

I made some decisions early on. I decided I was going to put the leg on in the morning and not take it off until I went to bed.

When you’re first learning to walk again, you deal with a lot of pain.

That pain toughened me up. Now I can walk around all day and not get sore. I can go snowboarding and get in the halfpipe.

I don’t consider myself disabled.

Less than five people have said anything to me about my leg in four years. I guess they don’t want to invade my privacy.

You adapt to where you are. In the Marine Corps, I became rigid. But when I came back, I could consciously feel that flowing away.

I quit wearing military t-shirts. I had them in my wardrobe, ones that said “Wounded Warrior Project” or “3rd Battalion, 25th Marines.” I was proud of them, but I didn’t want my life to be defined by them. I wanted to become the person I was before it happened.

You want to live life in a way so that everything doesn’t relate to that one thing.

Meeting someone in the Marine Corps is like meeting someone in the Fraternity. You can make some basic assumptions about that person.

While I was in the hospital, I remember telling my twin brother that he was going to forget this happened. I was going to be in jeans, we’re going to be hanging out, watching the football game and he’s not going to remember that I’m missing a leg. I remember asking him if he believed me, but he didn’t. Since then, he forgot several times. That’s how I wanted it to be.

I knew from the beginning I had to do something big to put this behind me. I had been walking for two weeks when I signed up for the Army Ten-Miler. I don’t think I had a prosthetic yet.

There are people who would be willing to be giving me a pass for a lot of things. They would call it combat stress, they would cut me a break. You have to fight that temptation.

We’re from Mississippi. It’s a catfish state and I’ve never filleted a catfish.

The most interesting part of going to the Republican National Convention? You could feel the energy, like there was something about to happen.

I’m the luckiest person I know.

I wouldn’t take back joining the Marine Corps. I wouldn’t take back going to Iraq. Even if that meant I would still lose my leg.

It’s a good thing my wife was there while I was at Walter Reed. If she hadn’t, I could have come home a different guy. It kept me happy and not focusing on the negative.

You can’t ever start making excuses for yourself.

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6