On How My Friend Kevin Died - Part 1

If you are like me, the first thought that ran through your mind when you heard the news that my dear friend Master Sergeant Kevin Johnson died is, “How? What happened?” Kevin was only 45 years old. He should have had a lot of years left in him. Even if you didn’t know him you can see from his photo, or from his image in our video that he was too young to die.

I’m going to attempt to tell you how he died, as best I can, because I believe that Kevin would want people to know the truth of how he died as much as he would want us to know how he lived. Kevin was an example for others in every sense that he could be – both positive and negative. He showed us how we should be, by being an example to follow, and by showing us our own failures.

For those who didn’t know Kevin, a little background history:

Kevin joined the Army at age 17 and served for 27 years. He was an athlete, history buff, compulsive reader, and teacher. He served on every continent other than Antarctica. He was a Medic. And, in addition to personally saving hundreds of lives in several different combat zones, he also trained other medics who saved thousands more. He is the recipient of over 20 awards and medals, including one for the liberation of Kuwait in the first Gulf War that he gave to me as a gift; which speaks to his generosity and caring for others. Even in his final months of life he volunteered at a shelter, and helped his neighbor’s move, despite wearing a leg brace and barely being able to walk. Kevin was always more concerned for others than he was for himself. He is a hero in every sense of the word, although he would never agree with me on that.

In May of 2004, while serving in Iraq (again), Kevin’s HUMV was hit by a roadside bomb while on a mission to assess the medical needs of the local population to see how the Army could help. The explosion killed one of his best friends, Jeffrey Shaver, and Kevin suffered a traumatic brain injury (TBI), sending him home. Kevin would spend the remainder of his life struggling with the guilt of surviving that blast, believing that he should have been the one to be killed rather than Jeff, and wishing that he could go back to Iraq to finish out his tour beside his fellow Soldiers.

Kevin’s TBI caused him severe memory loss – to the extent that he would often have to enter his driving destination into his GPS navigation system any time he drove. Not because he didn’t remember the way, but to ensure that he didn’t forget where he was going. He couldn’t remember much of his service. And when his psychiatrist helped him to bring much of it back through hypnosis, it was like being hit with every bad experience he’d had in his entire life all at once.

Unlike many Veterans who refuse to speak of their experiences in war, Kevin was willing to share with me some of the things he witnessed and experienced in his service in at least three combat zones that I am aware of. Horrific things. Things that no human being should see or endure. Things that I can’t bring myself to share here. Kevin had much to reconcile when those memories came back to him.

The rest of the story next week...