The reporter also exacerbated small, intense details of the story, freaking out my family back home. Then I made matters worse by saying, “That’s what we learn in the military. You don’t ever leave a Soldier behind. It’s the same thing with Sherpa,” in reference to An Doja and me sticking together.*2 I felt like a hypocrite after the call. I told Amy to cancel the rest of the media calls for the time being.
Radio chatter between Sherpas revealed that Chad and Dave were spending the night at Camp Three, then heading down the next day. The Sherpa on the other end came over the net and said, “Oh no, that’s not good. It’s really bad up there.” They were still in the death zone getting pounded by even stronger winds than those An Doja and I had faced.
NORAD, the North American Aerospace Defense Command, was supplying us with weather data and predicted the winds to be hurricane force, reaching one hundred miles an hour. I walked out of my tent and looked up toward the summit, which you can normally see clearly even at night, but it was black, as though there wasn’t even a mountain present. She was engulfed in the rage of the storm.
By now, it was the next day. No updates. Climbers and Sherpas were staggering into camp with frostbitten limbs and fluid in their lungs. It looked as if the mountain had chewed them up and spit them out.
The ABC News article broke and caused a whirlwind back home with our family. Rachel was freaking out because I had talked to her just that one time to tell her I had made it back to Advanced Camp and had shared nothing more. Chad’s mom was livid, and for good reason. How could I make a comment like that with her son still on the mountain? And though I was referring to my Sherpa and me, she was right. We should have either had better communication plans or stayed together. We had done neither. Unfortunately, Rachel, as our social media liaison, was taking the brunt of all this as the link between our team and the families.
RACHEL
I was surprised to find out Chad and Dave still hadn’t made it back, and I was starting to worry. I tried my best to process what had happened and what was still going on as I reached out to the other climbers’ families. It was a hard place to be in because I didn’t know why they had gotten separated up on the mountain. But, understandably so, some of the family members were taking their frustration and worries out on me over the failed communication that happened on the climb. Nevertheless, I was just the messenger.
I was basically having to stand up for my husband when I myself didn’t know what the reasoning was at the time. I was already so emotional from learning about the frostbite and the dangers my husband went through; it was a lot to process, plus having the weight of the other families’ emotions on me.
My role was to post on social media and communicate with our publicist. It was never my role to be in direct contact with the climbers’ friends or family members. I think there was confusion with the families of the other climbers about what my job was as the one running social media. In looking back, someone should have had that role. We had mistakenly assumed each climber would communicate back home with their family.
Over Facebook Messenger, I explained my best guess as to what had happened in an effort to help make sense of the situation.
I can only imagine if they went down the mountain earlier it is because they needed to. It isn’t safe for anyone to stay up that high for any amount of time and it would have been harder on the team if everyone stayed, increasing the chance of more people getting hurt and not being able to get down. What I mean is, I think it would have been worse for everyone because if they were all to get hurt no one could help anyone. Also, from the very beginning I was told that everyone climbs at a different pace, and so everyone is essentially climbing alone or just with their Sherpa. Before all of this I thought they climbed as a team too, but it became clear that just isn’t practical or safe since their bodies are all different and some climbers would either have to slow down for the others or speed up instead of climbing at a healthy pace for their bodies.
The news of Harold summiting was nothing like I’d expected it to be. Instead of celebrating this big accomplishment, I felt like everything had come crashing down. Families were angry, and I was terrified of what I didn’t know.
HAROLD
By 2:00 a.m., I was completely exhausted, yet I felt this overwhelming guilt that I’d failed as a teammate. I called my dad from the satellite phone and summed up the situation.
“I’m contemplating going back up to find them.”
To be honest, I expected my father to respond by saying that I should stay safe and pray for my teammates or maybe try checking at the international camps, which I had already done. What he actually said cut me to the core and is probably the single most impactful advice I’ve ever received, especially since I know how difficult it was for him to give.
“Son,” came his voice over the line, “you need to head back up that mountain and back into the storm, even if it kills you. Because that is what leaders do. Whether you are the climbing leader or not, you are responsible for those men, and that means you don’t leave them out there on their own. You need to find them or die trying.”
I could hear him fighting back tears, and I felt a deep sadness rise in my chest. I don’t remember exactly what I said next, but we both knew the gravity of my father’s words. We both understood that he may have just given his only son advice that would send him to his grave. We were both in tears as I told my father goodbye.
With frostbitten feet and bags under my eyes, I started prepping to go back out into the unforgiving elements and the eye of the storm. I was terrified, but I knew it was the right thing to do.
*1 Gregg Zoroya, “Ex-Soldier Who Lost a Leg in Iraq Reaches the Top of Everest,” USA Today, May 24, 2016, www.usatoday.com/story/news/world/2016/05/24/ex-soldier-who-lost-leg-iraq-reaches-top-everest/84860106.
*2 Morgan Winsor, “US Soldiers Recount Harrowing Descent from Mt. Everest,” ABC News, May 26, 2016, https://abcnews.go.com/International/us-soldiers-recount-harrowing-descent-mt-everest/story?id=39399897.
20
Homecoming
HAROLD
I was in the mess tent scarfing down donkey sausage and eggs as I prepared to head back up the mountain. At this point, we’d heard that Dave and Chad were at Camp One, but we weren’t sure if that was actually true because we had been playing a game of telephone with Sherpas from other camps and with whatever communication equipment they had up on the mountain.
Then I heard the news: Dave and Chad had been spotted at the bottom of the North Col, about thirty minutes from Advanced Camp. I burst out of the tent, leaving my plate of half-eaten sausage, and walked as fast as I could to meet them. I tried to jog, but that didn’t last long at twenty thousand feet on jagged glacial rocks with wounded feet.
I was excited and relieved but still on edge until I could see them for myself and know they were all right. Then I saw them. I ran to them and gave them huge hugs. They had half smiles on their faces and were pretty banged up, but most important, they were alive. Chad had frostbite on all his fingers, and they were bubbling with blisters. Despite the treacherous journey, shortly after returning to the tent, I could see their infectious smiles and personalities shine through again. They had a resiliency unlike any I’d seen before. When we all encircled them, asking about the weather on the descent, all Dave said was, “It was really bad, man.”*1
Our team slowly worked our way off the mountain. We had more than a weeklong journey back to our families. I was heading home to the love of my life, who was waiting for me. She was all I could think about. I’d had a dangerous love affair with a mountain that almost took me away from my wife, and coming out on the other side, I just wanted to see her warm smile and wrap her in my arms.
Every day, as I flew closer to seeing her—Tibet, Nepal, Qatar, Atlanta—I got more and more giddy. The kind of giddy where I would randomly smile while si
tting by myself on the plane because I was daydreaming about her. Plus, the plane had free on-demand movies, so you can bet I was watching The Notebook on repeat. Our story was about to have its happy ending.
RACHEL
The news of Chad and Dave’s return was a huge relief, although emotions remained high. Chad’s mom made a joke about how he might be grounded after this. We all recognized that things could have easily been so much worse, and we were now just ready for our loved ones to be safe at home. After two long, emotionally taxing months of being separated from Harold, I waited for him at the airport. In my hands were the two Welcome Home posters I had made. My legs fidgeted as I stood waiting with the rest of his family.
As soon as I spotted him, I started running. He was moving so slowly. I could tell it was uncomfortable for him to walk due to his frostbitten toe, but he was slower than a turtle. It took him forever to pass that red Do Not Cross line at the terminal before I could hug him. He had a scruffy beard and greasy long hair, and he was super skinny.
Waiting for him to get to me felt like the same “come on!” moment before the pastor said “You can now kiss your bride!” on our wedding day.
HAROLD
The automatic double doors leaving the terminal opened, and I saw her. It felt like our wedding day all over again, except this time I was the one making the long walk down the aisle. There she was, standing with all my family and holding huge signs. I started walking slowly because I wanted to soak it all in. I also had my foot bandaged and was pushing two huge duffel bags.
“Hunny!” Rachel called out as she jumped up and down, waiting for me to cross the line. “Hurry up! Hurry up!”
I dropped the bags when she jumped into my arms.
“I’ve missed you so much,” Rachel said, and her hug felt stronger than usual.
“I love you,” I said as I finally was able to see her up close. I’d missed that smile so much.
“I’m so glad you’re home.”
Before she could say anything more, I kissed her. We embraced once again, and then Rachel showed me the posters she’d made for me. As she did, my momma ran up to me and gave me a huge hug with tears in her eyes. (I feel like all moms cry at this point in the story.) My dad came up to me, embraced me, and said, “Son, I’m proud of you. Welcome home!”*2
We were all going to have lunch together at a restaurant, but the moment Rachel and I got in the car, I just wanted to soak up my time with her. She was so patient in sharing me with my family, but I knew deep down all she really wanted was time just for us. If I’d had my way, we would have gotten takeout and headed home to continue our reunion.
After we were full of food and stories, we finally made it home. Our dogs went nuts seeing me walk through the back door again. I had to put my foot up on a chair so they wouldn’t accidentally step on my damaged toe. They were jumping and making all kinds of weird excited noises, shaking their butts, and spinning around. They licked my face about fifty times!
I later went to the kitchen and grabbed a warm bowl of water to soak my foot. My white toe had now turned completely purple. I would be leaving for Ranger School fewer than two months after summiting Mount Everest. I knew I had to act fast and do everything I could to treat my toe in time. I hoped I wouldn’t lose it, but only time would tell.
Two weeks later, I had an Army doctor from Fort Benning, Georgia, check it out. He said, “I must be honest. I’ve never seen frostbite like this before. I think we’re going to have to take off your toe.” I got a second opinion. The next doctor said the toe should heal within about a year but there would be nerve damage. The good news: I got to keep my toe, but any sort of impact was painful. Dancing or even lifting my foot out of bed was a delicate process. My whole toenail turned black and purple and eventually fell off. I saved the toenail and eventually gave it to my cousin Ryan as a Christmas present in a nice ring display box.
RACHEL
Whoa, whoa, whoa there, buddy! He might have given it to Ryan as a joke, but he didn’t let him keep it! That nasty thing is still in our home because he won’t let me throw it out! Harold will tell you it is now a family heirloom!
Just one week after Harold got back from Everest, we celebrated our one-year wedding anniversary! I hadn’t always been sure we would spend this special day together, so it felt really good to wake up next to each other. Time has a wonderful way of showing us what really matters. We begin to appreciate the time we have when we’re aware we could easily lose it. Every time we’ve been apart has made us more appreciative of the time we have together, and we end up loving harder and living a fuller life.
The morning of our first anniversary, I woke Harold up with breakfast in bed. We had biscuits with gravy, eggs, and bacon in an attempt to replicate our favorite breakfast place in New York City: Jacob’s Pickles. We ate every last bite while we cuddled and reflected on how insane the past year had been and how much we had grown together.
It was hard to come up with our favorite memories because we had so many! In that year alone, we had gone to eighteen countries together (and several separately), moved twice, gotten two dogs, and started a nonprofit to help veterans. I’d built a YouTube channel, and Harold had climbed Everest! Who knew where life might take us? Maybe we’d have kids soon! No matter what was going to happen in the next year, we were just excited to be able to do life together.
HAROLD
I wanted kids. Like yesterday.
The day after I returned from Everest, we left the house early to head to Atlanta for two Everest-related interviews. I was grateful to the media for their interest and for the opportunity to bring awareness to PTSD, but the continued effort was taking a toll on both Rachel and me as we struggled to adjust our sleeping patterns and get back to our normal life.
The media interviews went well, but they portrayed our expedition as a total success. From the outside it was, but they didn’t know about the unjustifiable risks we had taken. The poor decisions made in the extreme elements that caused us to get split up on the mountain had a huge impact on me as a leader. Not one of the 278 media outlets featuring our climb ever knew how bad things had gotten and the poor decisions I’d made as a young leader. My hope is that someone reading this book can grow as a person and leader, as I have, by learning from my failures.
I learned so many things on that mountain, especially on that final night. I learned that communication can be the difference between life and death; that when you are in pivotal moments, you must clearly communicate and keep things simple to understand. I learned that when I am tired, I am vulnerable to mishaps. Which means I need to take a tactical pause, rest, and then recenter and reengage. I learned that although our mission comes first (raising awareness for PTSD), it shouldn’t be at the expense of the team. I learned that as the youngest and least experienced member of my seasoned team, I can always use common sense to help bridge the gap left by the experience I don’t have. I learned that it is harder to sit and wait helplessly to find out if your loved one is alive or dead than it is to climb the highest mountain in the world.
I also learned, as Rachel told me later, that you can’t just ask God to save the person you love most and leave it at that. This kind of prayer relies only on one-way communication. Instead, Rachel taught me through her own example that you must fully put your faith in God to carry you through the worst, no matter the outcome. That is the essence of true communication with God. It’s the definition of faith in its purest form.
I will carry these lessons with me and rely on them as I continue to grow as a leader, husband, and person.
A few days after the media interviews, we had a big welcome-home party at Zac Brown’s Southern Ground, inviting sponsors, media, and other people important to the USX effort. I got up to speak and thanked everyone who helped us make Everest a success. Well, not everyone. I thanked a lot of people, but there was one I didn’t: Ra
chel. She didn’t need the recognition, but I hadn’t even acknowledged she was part of the team.
Of course I appreciated her, but for a while after Everest, I failed to recognize all she had done and sacrificed for me, for us, and for our future family. She was the only reason I was able to climb Everest, yet I hadn’t even given her so much as a thank-you. She went with me to all the interviews and helped me prepare. She helped launch USX. She did all the social media, and she was still crushing her own passions on the side.
It took Rachel calling me out to finally realize this.
I already knew that when you’re a leader, those you love will naturally have to make sacrifices. But it took growing closer to God and getting away from my egotistical self to fully appreciate what others, especially Rachel, had done to help me along the way.
Right after I stood up and talked, CSM Burnett got up and shared his struggles with suicidal thoughts. His honesty made an impact on everyone there. It was a profound moment and made the mission real for me again, reinforcing why we’d climbed.
RACHEL
CSM Burnett talked about how PTSD affected not only his life but also his family’s life. He also thanked his wife, Antoinette, for being by his side through everything. I sat at our table with tears dripping from my eyes because I could relate. Harold didn’t fully realize what family members go through, but I did.
All along I felt like there was a voice not being heard as we spoke about PTSD: the voice of the spouses and family members. I married an infantry officer, which means there is a very strong probability that he’ll someday go to combat. Never once would Harold consider that he might come back with PTSD because he can’t go in with that mentality.
A Higher Calling Page 16
