Wounded in Afghanistan, a Sask. soldier recounts a horrific attack, a remarkable recovery. PPCLI member bikes half-marathon: Flying through the air on fire, Master Cpl. Adam Cyr never thought he'd taste apple juice again.
That's the thought that went through Cyr's mind last September after being blown out of the light armoured vehicle (LAV) he was manning with his section of the Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry in the dangerous Zhari district of Kandahar, Afghanistan.
The crew was ambushed in a carefully planned trap by the Taliban, who used an elite team of fighters to strike, according to reports. Three Canadian soldiers died and five were injured, including Cyr, who lost his right leg below the knee and suffered severe burns across much of his body.
"I'm not even a big fan of apple juice," Cyr said, reflecting on the moments after the explosion.
Born and raised in Whitewood, Cyr's sitting in a small booth of a mall coffee shop at Canadian Forces Base Shilo telling the story. He still has his Army crewcut underneath a worn-out ball cap and he's wearing a maroon T-shirt with the Princess Patricia Light Infantry logo embroidered on the chest.
Like all Canadian soldiers wounded in Afghanistan, Cyr has a story to tell. But few of the wounded soldiers back in Canada have told their tales of recovery and compromise.
Cyr tells it in a matter-of-fact voice, speaking plainly about the difficult journey that brought him from the battlefields of Kandahar to fighting his own battle to recover in Shilo.
It was a scalding hot day in Kandahar as Cyr, now 31, and his section packed into the LAV for a routine security patrol. They were a tight-knit crew, Cyr recalls, having spent every waking moment together overseas for more than six months. They were to leave the country in three days and the talk inside the LAV turned to what they were going to do when they returned to Canada and what they missed most about home, Cyr said.
According to reports, the group entered the Chaman Bazaar, on the north side of the Arghandab River. Located about 15 kilometres west of Kandahar City, the group moved into an area of dilapidated and abandoned shops known as Pashmul.
The conversation waned and the crew scanned the area for "anything fishy," Cyr said. The next thing he knew he was flying through the air, lit on fire in an explosion caused by what the Taliban claimed was their first hit with a remote-controlled mine and rocket-propelled grenades, but later reports said was a heavy anti-tank weapon.
"I landed on the top of the LAV and rolled off," Cyr said. "From there, I couldn't really feel anything. I called for help and a couple of my buddies came over and dragged me back and patched me up and got me out of there. We went back to a more stable point and I got choppered out. Once I got back to the safe area, Kandahar Airfield, they shot me up with morphine and I woke up in Germany."
Three soldiers died in the attack, on the third day of the Muslim month of Ramadan. Many speculated the holy period might cool the bloodshed, but the attack took the life of 23-year-old Cpl. Andrew Grenon, 21-year-old Cpl. Mike Seggie and 21-year-old Pte. Chad Horn. Despite the casualties, the soldiers quickly gained the upper hand and won the firefight. Canadian military officials have described how the surviving soldiers, even the wounded, returned fire against the Taliban fighters.
"In my opinion, they're not brave. They're a bunch of cowards," Cyr says of the Taliban. "They're gutless. They won't face you face to face. They use dirty little tricks. They have knowledge and they have a lot of money from dope to fund what's going on. That's how I see 'em."
In the following weeks, the three slain soldiers were commemorated as warriors who were proud of the mission and died doing what they loved. The grieving lasted weeks across the country -- especially in the tight-knit military town of Shilo -- while Cyr recovered in Germany. His parents, David and Yvonne, and his girlfriend, Jen Naturkach, 28, flew to Germany the following week to be with him.
Yvonne remembers her swollen-up son in a daze when the family arrived, asking for water and wanting to speak to the soldier who accompanied them into the hospital room.
"It was hard to see him in that situation," Yvonne said. "But we were prepared for it. We knew everything was going to be OK."
Days later, the decision was made to fly Cyr to Winnipeg so he could recover closer to home. One of Cyr's close friends, Seggie, was buried the day he arrived at the Winnipeg hospital. At that point, Cyr still didn't know who survived the attack.
"I knew the one guy who said goodbye to me was OK, but that's it," Cyr said. "But I didn't know who was alive or who was dead. . . . I knew some people died so it was already tough, but I just didn't know who. It wasn't easy. . . . It's not easy."
Lifting his left leg out of the coffee-shop booth, he reveals scarring from the many hours of surgery and skin grafts he underwent in Germany and Winnipeg. Doctors were going to remove his left leg but he could still wiggle his toes, he said, so he was able to keep it.
Instead, muscle from his left quadricep was removed to effectively replace his blown off left calf, which is now encircled in deep scars after being completely rebuilt.
His right leg below the knee was amputated and he was fitted for a prosthetic leg in December. The rest of his body is covered in scarring, including deep burns on his back and shrapnel scars on his upper arm.
Cyr shows off a large decorative cross tattooed on his left forearm and beneath it a Canadian flag inscribed with "True North Strong and Free."
"The only places I didn't get hit is where I have a tattoo," he said.
The next months were spent in Shilo, where the small house he shares with Naturkach was rigged up with a wheelchair ramp and hand rails and where he slept on a main-floor futon. He went to physiotherapy, adjusting to his remade leg, learning to walk again, one step at a time.
Over time, a walker replaced his wheelchair; a mountain bike replaced his walker. Intense morning workouts replaced rigorous physiotherapy. A desk job doing research replaced field training, a lifestyle adjustment for Cyr.
Early this year, he travelled to Edmonton to take part in Soldier On camp, a new program that tailors workouts to wounded soldiers and encourages them to participate in sports. He credits the program with speeding up his recovery.
The wheelchair ramp installed on Cyr's front porch doesn't get any use these days. His new mountain bike, on the other hand, does.
Last Sunday, just nine months removed from the explosion that almost took his life, Cyr biked a half-marathon alongside his good friend Glen Kirkland, 26, the driver of the armoured vehicle, who was also wounded in the attack. Together, they tackled 21 kilometres through the rolling hills of Brandon, Man.
Their preparation? Fishing and eating hot dogs at Lake Manitoba, a getaway to Cyr's summer cabin before the big race.
"We're very proud and pleased that he was so determined and recuperated so well," Yvonne said on the phone from her Round Lake home. "You never, never lose sight of that. That's the reason you get through it. You know it's not going to be forever."
For Cyr, he has long stopped going over the what-ifs or assigning blame.
And next year, he's going to run the marathon, he said, determined.
"Shit happens, ya know?" Cyr said at the end of the interview. "You've gotta get over it and move on. . . . It's been a long haul but everything has been steadily improving."
dhutton@sp.canwest.com
© Copyright (c) The StarPhoenix http://www.thestarphoenix.com/news/Soldier+story/1669391/story.html
That's the thought that went through Cyr's mind last September after being blown out of the light armoured vehicle (LAV) he was manning with his section of the Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry in the dangerous Zhari district of Kandahar, Afghanistan.
The crew was ambushed in a carefully planned trap by the Taliban, who used an elite team of fighters to strike, according to reports. Three Canadian soldiers died and five were injured, including Cyr, who lost his right leg below the knee and suffered severe burns across much of his body.
"I'm not even a big fan of apple juice," Cyr said, reflecting on the moments after the explosion.
Born and raised in Whitewood, Cyr's sitting in a small booth of a mall coffee shop at Canadian Forces Base Shilo telling the story. He still has his Army crewcut underneath a worn-out ball cap and he's wearing a maroon T-shirt with the Princess Patricia Light Infantry logo embroidered on the chest.
Like all Canadian soldiers wounded in Afghanistan, Cyr has a story to tell. But few of the wounded soldiers back in Canada have told their tales of recovery and compromise.
Cyr tells it in a matter-of-fact voice, speaking plainly about the difficult journey that brought him from the battlefields of Kandahar to fighting his own battle to recover in Shilo.
It was a scalding hot day in Kandahar as Cyr, now 31, and his section packed into the LAV for a routine security patrol. They were a tight-knit crew, Cyr recalls, having spent every waking moment together overseas for more than six months. They were to leave the country in three days and the talk inside the LAV turned to what they were going to do when they returned to Canada and what they missed most about home, Cyr said.
According to reports, the group entered the Chaman Bazaar, on the north side of the Arghandab River. Located about 15 kilometres west of Kandahar City, the group moved into an area of dilapidated and abandoned shops known as Pashmul.
The conversation waned and the crew scanned the area for "anything fishy," Cyr said. The next thing he knew he was flying through the air, lit on fire in an explosion caused by what the Taliban claimed was their first hit with a remote-controlled mine and rocket-propelled grenades, but later reports said was a heavy anti-tank weapon.
"I landed on the top of the LAV and rolled off," Cyr said. "From there, I couldn't really feel anything. I called for help and a couple of my buddies came over and dragged me back and patched me up and got me out of there. We went back to a more stable point and I got choppered out. Once I got back to the safe area, Kandahar Airfield, they shot me up with morphine and I woke up in Germany."
Three soldiers died in the attack, on the third day of the Muslim month of Ramadan. Many speculated the holy period might cool the bloodshed, but the attack took the life of 23-year-old Cpl. Andrew Grenon, 21-year-old Cpl. Mike Seggie and 21-year-old Pte. Chad Horn. Despite the casualties, the soldiers quickly gained the upper hand and won the firefight. Canadian military officials have described how the surviving soldiers, even the wounded, returned fire against the Taliban fighters.
"In my opinion, they're not brave. They're a bunch of cowards," Cyr says of the Taliban. "They're gutless. They won't face you face to face. They use dirty little tricks. They have knowledge and they have a lot of money from dope to fund what's going on. That's how I see 'em."
In the following weeks, the three slain soldiers were commemorated as warriors who were proud of the mission and died doing what they loved. The grieving lasted weeks across the country -- especially in the tight-knit military town of Shilo -- while Cyr recovered in Germany. His parents, David and Yvonne, and his girlfriend, Jen Naturkach, 28, flew to Germany the following week to be with him.
Yvonne remembers her swollen-up son in a daze when the family arrived, asking for water and wanting to speak to the soldier who accompanied them into the hospital room.
"It was hard to see him in that situation," Yvonne said. "But we were prepared for it. We knew everything was going to be OK."
Days later, the decision was made to fly Cyr to Winnipeg so he could recover closer to home. One of Cyr's close friends, Seggie, was buried the day he arrived at the Winnipeg hospital. At that point, Cyr still didn't know who survived the attack.
"I knew the one guy who said goodbye to me was OK, but that's it," Cyr said. "But I didn't know who was alive or who was dead. . . . I knew some people died so it was already tough, but I just didn't know who. It wasn't easy. . . . It's not easy."
Lifting his left leg out of the coffee-shop booth, he reveals scarring from the many hours of surgery and skin grafts he underwent in Germany and Winnipeg. Doctors were going to remove his left leg but he could still wiggle his toes, he said, so he was able to keep it.
Instead, muscle from his left quadricep was removed to effectively replace his blown off left calf, which is now encircled in deep scars after being completely rebuilt.
His right leg below the knee was amputated and he was fitted for a prosthetic leg in December. The rest of his body is covered in scarring, including deep burns on his back and shrapnel scars on his upper arm.
Cyr shows off a large decorative cross tattooed on his left forearm and beneath it a Canadian flag inscribed with "True North Strong and Free."
"The only places I didn't get hit is where I have a tattoo," he said.
The next months were spent in Shilo, where the small house he shares with Naturkach was rigged up with a wheelchair ramp and hand rails and where he slept on a main-floor futon. He went to physiotherapy, adjusting to his remade leg, learning to walk again, one step at a time.
Over time, a walker replaced his wheelchair; a mountain bike replaced his walker. Intense morning workouts replaced rigorous physiotherapy. A desk job doing research replaced field training, a lifestyle adjustment for Cyr.
Early this year, he travelled to Edmonton to take part in Soldier On camp, a new program that tailors workouts to wounded soldiers and encourages them to participate in sports. He credits the program with speeding up his recovery.
The wheelchair ramp installed on Cyr's front porch doesn't get any use these days. His new mountain bike, on the other hand, does.
Last Sunday, just nine months removed from the explosion that almost took his life, Cyr biked a half-marathon alongside his good friend Glen Kirkland, 26, the driver of the armoured vehicle, who was also wounded in the attack. Together, they tackled 21 kilometres through the rolling hills of Brandon, Man.
Their preparation? Fishing and eating hot dogs at Lake Manitoba, a getaway to Cyr's summer cabin before the big race.
"We're very proud and pleased that he was so determined and recuperated so well," Yvonne said on the phone from her Round Lake home. "You never, never lose sight of that. That's the reason you get through it. You know it's not going to be forever."
For Cyr, he has long stopped going over the what-ifs or assigning blame.
And next year, he's going to run the marathon, he said, determined.
"Shit happens, ya know?" Cyr said at the end of the interview. "You've gotta get over it and move on. . . . It's been a long haul but everything has been steadily improving."
dhutton@sp.canwest.com
© Copyright (c) The StarPhoenix http://www.thestarphoenix.com/news/Soldier+story/1669391/story.html
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