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1 A Wreck in Iraq CONGRESSMEN AREN’T SUPPOSED to be upside down. Now, it’s no secret that through the years, congressmen have been found in a number of unusual positions. And that’s true of political positions as well as physical ones. But whether you’re a Republican, Democrat, or neither, and whatever you may think of our country, Washington, or the Congress, I think we can all agree that legislators generally function best with their heads at least on a level with their feet. My name is Ike Skelton, and I am proud to be an American, a Missourian, a Democrat, and a resolute optimist. I’ve believed all my life that challenges are best met not with rancor or rhetoric, but with grit and good cheer. I can tell you, though, that this attitude is hard to maintain when you are upside down in a ditch in Iraq. As a boy in Lexington, Missouri, I had dreamed of serving my country and seeing the world. Both dreams had come true, although not always in the way I had imagined. When my friends and fellow Missourians permitted me to represent them in Congress, I chose to pursue my lifelong interest in military service by joining the House Armed Services Committee. Throughout my time there, including from 2007 to 2011 as the committee chairman, I made it a point to spend the Thanksgiving or Christmas holidays, and often both, with U.S. troops in the field. Although I could not wear the nation’s uniform (for reasons I’ll discuss later), breaking bread and sharing fellowship is something I could do to express my own appreciation to the men and women who stand guard and risk everything for America every hour of the day. But how on earth did I wind up in a ditch? On Saturday, November 26, 2005, some colleagues and I had just wrapped up a Thanksgiving tour of operations briefings, personal inspections, and visits with troops around Iraq. We were loaded into a military vehicle that was heavily armored but box-shaped like an ice cream truck, and we were rushing down the middle of a narrow two-lane road to the Baghdad airport. A W r e c k i n i r A q 2 That may sound like an odd way to travel, but it’s how the U.S. military moved official civilian visitors in that strife-riven country—commanding the road, helicopters swirling overhead, rolling swiftly in a secure procession to get to the destination in no-nonsense fashion while minimizing exposure to threats. But as darkness fell that particular Saturday evening, not everyone seemed to know or care for the unusual rules of that road. A water-tank truck with an Iraqi driver coming from the opposite direction did not yield to us, and the sergeant driving our truck swerved to avoid a head-on crash. Our truck went into a ditch and overturned. On earlier trips, the military had moved congressional delegations in armored SUVs, usually black Chevy Suburbans. To increase protection against hazards peculiar to Iraq—roadside bombs, rocket-propelled grenades, and the like—they had since created a more sophisticated, better-protected truck. But the design omitted one of the key safeguards against more prosaic road hazards —seat belts. So when the truck began to roll, we were tossed around the hard-edged metal passenger compartment like socks in a dryer. My Georgia colleague, Jim Marshall, grabbed me to slow my fall as the truck went over, and I was somewhat cushioned by landing against an unfortunate lieutenant colonel who was next to the door. Thankfully, Jim Marshall was unhurt. But Pennsylvania Congressman Tim Murphy and I were hurting indeed. We’d both landed on our necks, and I had struck something sharp with my back. Tim was also bloodied from a cut over one eye. Out of concern for possible spinal damage, we had to be lifted out the back window of the toppled truck. Guards with machine guns created a secure perimeter. I was placed on a stretcher. Ambulances quickly appeared, and I was loaded into one and sped to the Army hospital in Baghdad. At the hospital, medics took off my belt and combat boots and then sliced my pants right off to begin medical treatment. My belt and boots never turned up again, but I got to keep my slivered pants. My back and neck were hurting like the devil, but...

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