Army medic made famous in Iraq photo dies

A former Army medic made famous by a photograph that showed him carrying an injured Iraqi boy during the first week of the war in March 2003 has died of an apparent overdose, police said. Full Story
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Heroic

Redford, MI

#23 Jul 8, 2008
Not Understanding

Aurora, MO

#24 Jul 8, 2008
It's a damn shame what is war is doing to our country and to these men and women.
Tough Love

Piscataway, NJ

#25 Jul 8, 2008
Just Say No wrote:
<quoted text> Yes. He was a junkie. I've got no warmth in my heart for junkies.
Any bets on whether "Just Say No" listens to Rush Limbaugh? I think "Just Say No" should Just-get-his-aze-sent-to-the-I raq-front-lines. Let's see how righteous he is afterwards.
Tough Love

Piscataway, NJ

#26 Jul 8, 2008
Sheila wrote:
I read another article that the family is suing the government because they claim it was after his vehicle was hit by a rocket he couldn't sleep without nightmares. I believe he had these problems before he joined the service.
That's right, Sheila. Polish up that "Support The Troops" magnet on your car bumper.

“Two, Tree, maybe Four”

Since: Nov 07

Blue Island

#27 Jul 8, 2008
Just Say No wrote:
<quoted text> Yes. He was a junkie. I've got no warmth in my heart for junkies.
Swallowing a handful of prescription drugs while suffering with PTSD does not make someone a junkie. Spending years shooting heroin in your arm or snorting cocaine up your nose or even popping Vicoden every hour makes you a junkie. I am embarrassed to be the same species as you "Just Say No".
Steve H

Chicago, IL

#28 Jul 8, 2008
The average age of the military man is 19 years. He is a short haired, tight-muscled kid who, under normal circumstances is considered by society as half man, half boy. Not yet dry behind the ears, not old enough to buy a beer, but old enough to die for his country. He never really cared much for work and he would rather wax his own car than wash his father's, but he has never collected unemployment either.
He's a recent High School graduate; he was probably an average student, pursued some form of sport activities, drives a ten year old jalopy, and has a steady girlfriend that either broke up with him when he left, or swears to be waiting when he returns from half a world away. He listens to rock and roll or hip-hop or rap or jazz or swing and a 155mm howitzer.
He is 10 or 15 pounds lighter now than when he was at home because he is working or fighting from before dawn to well after dusk. He has trouble spelling, thus letter writing is a pain for him, but he can field strip a rifle in 30 seconds and reassemble it in less time in the dark. He can recite to you the nomenclature of a machine gun or grenade launcher and use either one effectively if he must.
He digs foxholes and latrines and can apply first aid like a professional.
He can march until he is told to stop, or stop until he is told to march.
He obeys orders instantly and without hesitation, but he is not without spirit or individual dignity. He is self-sufficient.
He has two sets of fatigues: he washes one and wears the other. He keeps his canteens full and his feet dry.
He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never to clean his rifle. He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes, and fix his own hurts.
If you're thirsty, he'll share his water with you; if you are hungry, his food. He'll even split his ammunition with you in the midst of battle when you run low.
He has learned to use his hands like weapons and weapons like they were his hands.
He can save your life - or take it, because that is his job.
He will often do twice the work of a civilian, draw half the pay, and still find ironic humor in it all.
He has seen more suffering and death than he should have in his short lifetime.
He has wept in public and in private, for friends who have fallen in combat and is unashamed.
He feels every note of the National Anthem vibrate through his body while at rigid attention, while tempering the burning desire to 'square-away ' those around him who haven't bothered to stand, remove their hat, or even stop talking.
In an odd twist, day in and day out, far from home, he defends their right to be disrespectful.
Just as did his Father, Grandfather, and Great-grandfather, he is paying the price for our freedom. Beardless or not, he is not a boy. He is the American Fighting Man that has kept this country free for over 200 years.
He has asked nothing in return, except our friendship and understanding. Remember him, always, for he has earned our respect and admiration with his blood.
And now we even have women over there in danger, doing their part in this tradition of going to War when our nation calls us to do so.
-Author unkown

God's Peace to the family of Specialist Joseph Patrick Dwyer, to the brave soldiers, marines and sailors and their families both here and abroad.
hmmmmm

Warrenville, IL

#29 Jul 8, 2008
How sad! God bless his family and friends!

“Two, Tree, maybe Four”

Since: Nov 07

Blue Island

#30 Jul 8, 2008
Steve H wrote:
The average age of the military man is 19 years. He is a short haired, tight-muscled kid who, under normal circumstances is considered by society as half man, half boy. Not yet dry behind the ears, not old enough to buy a beer, but old enough to die for his country. He never really cared much for work and he would rather wax his own car than wash his father's, but he has never collected unemployment either.
He's a recent High School graduate; he was probably an average student, pursued some form of sport activities, drives a ten year old jalopy, and has a steady girlfriend that either broke up with him when he left, or swears to be waiting when he returns from half a world away. He listens to rock and roll or hip-hop or rap or jazz or swing and a 155mm howitzer.
He is 10 or 15 pounds lighter now than when he was at home because he is working or fighting from before dawn to well after dusk. He has trouble spelling, thus letter writing is a pain for him, but he can field strip a rifle in 30 seconds and reassemble it in less time in the dark. He can recite to you the nomenclature of a machine gun or grenade launcher and use either one effectively if he must.
He digs foxholes and latrines and can apply first aid like a professional.
He can march until he is told to stop, or stop until he is told to march.
He obeys orders instantly and without hesitation, but he is not without spirit or individual dignity. He is self-sufficient.
He has two sets of fatigues: he washes one and wears the other. He keeps his canteens full and his feet dry.
He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never to clean his rifle. He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes, and fix his own hurts.
If you're thirsty, he'll share his water with you; if you are hungry, his food. He'll even split his ammunition with you in the midst of battle when you run low.
He has learned to use his hands like weapons and weapons like they were his hands.
He can save your life - or take it, because that is his job.
He will often do twice the work of a civilian, draw half the pay, and still find ironic humor in it all.
He has seen more suffering and death than he should have in his short lifetime.
He has wept in public and in private, for friends who have fallen in combat and is unashamed.
He feels every note of the National Anthem vibrate through his body while at rigid attention, while tempering the burning desire to 'square-away ' those around him who haven't bothered to stand, remove their hat, or even stop talking.
In an odd twist, day in and day out, far from home, he defends their right to be disrespectful.
Just as did his Father, Grandfather, and Great-grandfather, he is paying the price for our freedom. Beardless or not, he is not a boy. He is the American Fighting Man that has kept this country free for over 200 years.
He has asked nothing in return, except our friendship and understanding. Remember him, always, for he has earned our respect and admiration with his blood.
And now we even have women over there in danger, doing their part in this tradition of going to War when our nation calls us to do so.
-Author unkown
God's Peace to the family of Specialist Joseph Patrick Dwyer, to the brave soldiers, marines and sailors and their families both here and abroad.
You've brought a lump to my throat and a tear to my eye as I think of my cousin currently serving in Iraq. You have described him to a tee. Thank you.
Just Say No

Redford, MI

#31 Jul 8, 2008
Tough Love wrote:
<quoted text>
Any bets on whether "Just Say No" listens to Rush Limbaugh? I think "Just Say No" should Just-get-his-aze-sent-to-the-I raq-front-lines. Let's see how righteous he is afterwards.
Just because I don't have sympathy for someone who was addicted to prescription drugs doesn't mean I'm not a patriot. I don't care if the person was a veteran. I just don't give a rat's butt about drug addicts.
Coke over Pepsi

Redford, MI

#32 Jul 8, 2008
Steve H wrote:
The average age of the military man is 19 years. He is a short haired, tight-muscled kid who, under normal circumstances is considered by society as half man, half boy. Not yet dry behind the ears, not old enough to buy a beer, but old enough to die for his country. He never really cared much for work and he would rather wax his own car than wash his father's, but he has never collected unemployment either.
He's a recent High School graduate; he was probably an average student, pursued some form of sport activities, drives a ten year old jalopy, and has a steady girlfriend that either broke up with him when he left, or swears to be waiting when he returns from half a world away. He listens to rock and roll or hip-hop or rap or jazz or swing and a 155mm howitzer.
He is 10 or 15 pounds lighter now than when he was at home because he is working or fighting from before dawn to well after dusk. He has trouble spelling, thus letter writing is a pain for him, but he can field strip a rifle in 30 seconds and reassemble it in less time in the dark. He can recite to you the nomenclature of a machine gun or grenade launcher and use either one effectively if he must.
He digs foxholes and latrines and can apply first aid like a professional.
He can march until he is told to stop, or stop until he is told to march.
He obeys orders instantly and without hesitation, but he is not without spirit or individual dignity. He is self-sufficient.
He has two sets of fatigues: he washes one and wears the other. He keeps his canteens full and his feet dry.
He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never to clean his rifle. He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes, and fix his own hurts.
If you're thirsty, he'll share his water with you; if you are hungry, his food. He'll even split his ammunition with you in the midst of battle when you run low.
He has learned to use his hands like weapons and weapons like they were his hands.
He can save your life - or take it, because that is his job.
He will often do twice the work of a civilian, draw half the pay, and still find ironic humor in it all.
He has seen more suffering and death than he should have in his short lifetime.
He has wept in public and in private, for friends who have fallen in combat and is unashamed.
He feels every note of the National Anthem vibrate through his body while at rigid attention, while tempering the burning desire to 'square-away ' those around him who haven't bothered to stand, remove their hat, or even stop talking.
In an odd twist, day in and day out, far from home, he defends their right to be disrespectful.
Just as did his Father, Grandfather, and Great-grandfather, he is paying the price for our freedom. Beardless or not, he is not a boy. He is the American Fighting Man that has kept this country free for over 200 years.
He has asked nothing in return, except our friendship and understanding. Remember him, always, for he has earned our respect and admiration with his blood.
And now we even have women over there in danger, doing their part in this tradition of going to War when our nation calls us to do so.
-Author unkown
God's Peace to the family of Specialist Joseph Patrick Dwyer, to the brave soldiers, marines and sailors and their families both here and abroad.
What a load of baloney. This poem overlooks the fact that most of our soldiers are undereducated, crude, rude, and prone to sociopathic behavior.

“Two, Tree, maybe Four”

Since: Nov 07

Blue Island

#33 Jul 8, 2008
Just Say No wrote:
<quoted text> Just because I don't have sympathy for someone who was addicted to prescription drugs doesn't mean I'm not a patriot. I don't care if the person was a veteran. I just don't give a rat's butt about drug addicts.
Cite your sources identifying him as a prescription drug addict. Your assumptions are a sign of your ignorance.
shaking head

Warrenville, IL

#34 Jul 8, 2008
Coke over Pepsi wrote:
<quoted text>
What a load of baloney. This poem overlooks the fact that most of our soldiers are undereducated, crude, rude, and prone to sociopathic behavior.
You obviously are not an American!
Coke over Pepsi

Redford, MI

#35 Jul 8, 2008
shaking head wrote:
<quoted text>
You obviously are not an American!
Why? Because I'm not a mindless drone like you? Because unlike you I can think for myself and form my own opinions?
Steve H

Chicago, IL

#36 Jul 9, 2008
Coke over Pepsi wrote:
<quoted text>
What a load of baloney. This poem overlooks the fact that most of our soldiers are undereducated, crude, rude, and prone to sociopathic behavior.
First, it is a poem, so take from it what you wish. Second, your observations are inaccurate and are exceptions rather than the rule. I and am sure most Americans are offended by them. If you feel that your observations are based on something greater than your own ignorance, please provide some factual context ... otherwise blow it out your ear!
Coke over Pepsi

Lansing, IL

#37 Jul 9, 2008
Steve H wrote:
<quoted text> First, it is a poem, so take from it what you wish. Second, your observations are inaccurate and are exceptions rather than the rule. I and am sure most Americans are offended by them. If you feel that your observations are based on something greater than your own ignorance, please provide some factual context ... otherwise blow it out your ear!
6 years in the USMC. Nearly half of my training platoon barely graduated high school or didn't finish. At almost all of my duty stations it was virtually impossible to find an intelligent conversation that didn't revolve around beer, women, getting beer, or getting women. The one exception was embassy duty. At least there there were some educated people working at the embassy. I'm not criticizing the job that our soldiers do enforcing the politics of our government (because they are great as soldiers), but most of them are not people I'd ever invite to dinner.
Just Say No

Lansing, IL

#38 Jul 9, 2008
Working Stiff wrote:
<quoted text>
Cite your sources identifying him as a prescription drug addict. Your assumptions are a sign of your ignorance.
Hmm, a trained medic "accidentally" overdosing on prescription drugs? Highly unlikely.

“Two, Tree, maybe Four”

Since: Nov 07

Blue Island

#39 Jul 10, 2008
Just Say No wrote:
<quoted text>
Hmm, a trained medic "accidentally" overdosing on prescription drugs? Highly unlikely.
I never said it was an accident. He was attempting suicide. There's no intelligent discussions with you, I can tell. You've made up your mind and the facts be damned.

By the way, I am still waiting for your citing of the facts.
Not Understanding

Aurora, MO

#40 Jul 31, 2008
Coke over Pepsi wrote:
<quoted text>
6 years in the USMC. Nearly half of my training platoon barely graduated high school or didn't finish. At almost all of my duty stations it was virtually impossible to find an intelligent conversation that didn't revolve around beer, women, getting beer, or getting women. The one exception was embassy duty. At least there there were some educated people working at the embassy. I'm not criticizing the job that our soldiers do enforcing the politics of our government (because they are great as soldiers), but most of them are not people I'd ever invite to dinner.
Well, then you would missing out on a opportunity to meet some of our country's greatest men and women.

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