Soldier Blinded in Iraq Won't Stop Serving His Country

Capt. Scott Smiley, of Pasco, Wash., is one of only a handful of soldiers
who chose to remain on active duty after being blinded by fighting in Iraq
and Afghanistan, a practice that's rare but one that military officials say
benefits both parties.

WEST POINT, N.Y. -- Since a car bomb blinded Capt. Scott Smiley in Iraq, he
has skied Vail, climbed Mount Rainier, earned his MBA, raised two young boys
with his wife, won an Espy award and pulled himself up from faith-shaking
depths.

Smiley, 30, has snagged attention for his big accomplishments. But the daily
ones are telling, too, including the recent tour he gave of his staff's
offices at the U.S. Military Academy at West Point, where he plans to watch
President Barack Obama address the Class of 2010 on Saturday.

Unable to see the path around the workers' cubicles, Smiley stepped forward
with a joke to the camouflage-clad officers he was showing around: "I walk
around, and when I hit things, I move," he said.

An aide trailing him said softly, "Turn right, sir," at a doorway. Smiley
turned.

Smiley, of Pasco, Wash., is one of only a handful of soldiers who chose to
remain on active duty after being blinded by fighting in Iraq and
Afghanistan, a practice that's rare but one that military officials say
benefits both parties.

Though unable to return to his old infantry duties in Iraq, Smiley has
thrived in stateside postings such as his latest at West Point, from which
he graduated in 2003. He now commands the Warrior Transition Unit at West
Point for ailing or wounded soldiers.

Voice software allows Smiley to listen to e-mails, books and pamphlets.
Aides help him navigate and tell him what order he's signing. It's a little
like changing his son's diapers at home: He's fine as long as he knows where
everything is.

His resiliency and energy helped him earn the 2007 Soldier of the Year
commendation from the publication Army Times, as well as an ESPN Espy award
in 2008 for best outdoor athlete.

He earned his master's of business administration at Duke University and has
spoken to the Olympic and Duke teams coached by Mike Krzyzewski, a fellow
West Point alum. He has a memoir coming out this year titled "Hope Unseen."

Smiley said he's not trying to prove anything with his exploits.

"In terms of getting an MBA, climbing Mount Rainier, it's what I always
wanted to do," he said. "Why should I stop that?"

Smiley was injured April 6, 2005, six months into a deployment to Iraq. He
led patrols through Mosul, a dangerous city where a too-high pile of garbage
could be hiding explosives and the enemy blended in with the populace.

Sgt. 1st Class Mike Branham, who served as a squad leader under Smiley, said
his fellow serviceman was a topflight officer, one who stood out for his
deep Christian faith and detailed knowledge of his soldiers.

"He knew their names, he knew their wives' names, he knew their likes and
dislikes," Branham said.

Smiley was leading a patrol in an armored Stryker vehicle when, from his
perch in the forward hatch, he spotted a silver Opel that matched
intelligence descriptions of a potential car bomb. The trunk appeared to be
weighed down and the driver acted as though he didn't understand Smiley, who
fired warning shots at the ground when it looked as if the driver was going
to pull forward.

The driver raised his hands, and the car went up in a fireball.

Shrapnel tore through Smiley's left eye and lodged in his frontal brain
lobe; another fragment the size of a pencil lead pierced his right eye.

Slumped unconscious in the Stryker hatch, Smiley was rushed to a medical
center, where he briefly flatlined as friends prayed at his bedside.

Branham recalls, "I didn't think he was going to make it past that day at
all."

He was left permanently blinded and temporarily paralyzed on his right side.

Stabilized and shipped stateside, Smiley struggled with his fate. He had
vowed at his wedding to take care of his wife, Tiffany, and there she was,
taking care of him. The exertion of wiggling his big toe required a
three-hour nap.

He received his Purple Heart on his hospital bed. A video posted on YouTube
of the ceremony shows his brother Neal struggling to maintain composure as
he reads the citation. Smiley, looking beaten and uncomfortable in his bed,
turns his head away.

"When I got to the hospital and I finally realized what happened, what my
life was going to be like, I didn't believe in God. I questioned my faith. I
questioned everything that was ever said to me before," Smiley said.
"Because in my mind, why would God allow something like this to happen to
me?"

Smiley credits his wife, family and faith for helping him accept his
condition. Ultimately, he decided he didn't want to be like the Lt. Dan
character played by Gary Sinise in "Forrest Gump," the officer who wants to
be left to die when he loses his legs in Vietnam. He would push on. And if
his path kept him in the Army, that was fine.

"I was totally prepared to get out," he said. "But still in the back of my
mind, it was: 'I still have so much to give. I love serving my country."'

The Army says at least four other totally or partially blind soldiers have
remained on active duty since Iraq and Afghanistan.

Capt. Ivan Castro lost his sight and suffered other serious injuries in a
2006 mortar attack in Iraq and is now stationed at Fort Bragg, N.C., with
the Special Operations Recruiting Battalion. Castro, a 42-year-old who runs
marathons and 50-mile races, appears to share some personality traits with
Smiley -- and says he also felt he still had something to serve after being
injured.

"I've been doing this for over 18 years," Castro, who was born in Hoboken,
N.J., and grew up in Puerto Rico, said in a phone interview. "This is all I
know. This is what I love. This is what I live for."

Castro's commander, Lt. Col. Fredrick Dummar, said the continued service by
blind soldiers fits with the military philosophy that everyone has unique
abilities and that "there's always somebody on the team that can accomplish
a mission."

Smiley was at first posted at Accessions Command, which oversees recruiting,
and later earned his MBA. He returned to West Point last year to teach and
took command this year of the Warrior Transition Unit here this year. He
lives on post with Tiffany and their two young boys. After the West Point
graduation ceremony Saturday, he plans to pin lieutenant bars on one of the
roughly 1,000 cadets who will become new Army officers.

Smiley conceded that he might have a better understanding of the ailing
soldiers under his command but is quick to add that his overriding concern
is maintaining Army standards -- for his soldiers and for himself.

"I still want to be the person I always wanted to be," he said.