Cole Stasney

On May 1st, 2010, our four-vehicle convoy was returning from a mission in Quarabagh district in Ghazni province, Afghanistan, when we encountered a complex ambush orchestrated by insurgent teams positioned on both sides of Highway 1. As we entered their kill zone, the enemy initiated the attack with a 500-pound IED specifically targeting the third vehicle in our convoy—my truck.

The massive explosion struck beneath the rear portion of our Cougar MRAP, launching the vehicle into the air. The blast caused our truck to flip twice, rear end over front, before we landed facing opposite the direction of travel and slid off the road. The detonation rendered the highway impassable, effectively cutting off our fourth vehicle from the rest of the convoy.

Following the IED explosion, insurgent teams immediately opened fire on both the third and fourth vehicles. The 4th vehicle was then hit with 3 RPG’s and small arms lighting it on fire. In the 3rd vehicle, our turret, now facing into the adjacent field, became a target for concentrated small arms fire from enemy positions.

The blast rendered me unconscious instantly. My final memory before the explosion was closing the Cougar's door and settling into my seat approximately one hour earlier. When I regained consciousness, I was thrust into a scene of absolute chaos, overwhelming pain, and complete disorientation as the ambush was taking place outside.

The sensation was as if I had been struck by a semi-truck—my entire body, especially my head, throbbed with pain. I found myself nearly inverted in my seat, with my feet positioned above my head and my body armor lodged against my throat, severely restricting my ability to breathe. My helmet and glasses had been knocked off by the blast. My hands were covered in blood, though I couldn't identify the source due to the all-encompassing pain throughout my body.

Looking toward my gunner's position from my seat next to the radio mount, I could only see his legs. He remained motionless, and I feared he had been killed, though he was still alive but also stuck in his position as I was. The restricted airway caused by my displaced body armor triggered panic, and I began screaming for help while attempting to relieve the pressure on my throat. My locked seatbelt severely limited my range of motion, preventing me from reaching anything beyond my immediate neck area.

Above me, my team leader, Sergeant Doohen, was suspended in his seat, suffering from a severe laceration to the back of his head. Blood streamed down his face and dripped onto the vehicle's interior above my position. Despite his own serious injuries and disorientation, Sergeant Doohen managed to compose himself, free himself from his restraints, and cut me out of my seat—an action that I believe saved my life by allowing me to breathe.

We were able to crawl out of the vehicle after other platoon members managed to reach our truck and open the door. We sat on the side of the road at the casualty collection point until the MEDEVAC helicopters landed and we were then taken on a long, ring flight journey to collect wounded soldiers from Sharana and Jalalabad. The flight ended at the trauma center at Bagram Airfield where two of us spent several days in the hospital before being released and sent back to our unit. One soldier was sent home after surgery.

I believe the actions of Sgt. Doohen quite possibly saved my life and he is definitely a hero to me.

Narrative submitted by honoree.