Measure of a man: He's still all Marine

CAMP LEJEUNE -- As embarrassing as it is to admit now, I was afraid I wouldn't know where to look or what to say when I met 2nd Lt. Andrew Kinard, USMC.

How could I pretend that talking to a baby-faced Marine officer with red hair, a bright smile and no legs is just another day on the job?

Should I express pity? Rage at those who detonated the IED that destroyed his legs? Or should I thank him for having the willingness to go where I can't go and the courage to do what I can't do?

Kinard says he doesn't remember what happened when the roadside bomb went off in October in western Iraq. Thank God for small favors.

But the Marines of the 2nd Light Armored Reconnaissance Battalion will tell you that junior officers like Kinard are to be treasured. They say that although he's but a shavetail lieutenant, he doesn't just send his men into combat, he leads them himself. So he was with his Marines when the IED exploded. Gravely wounded, he continued to do his job until he passed out.

OK, so he looks like he ought to be bagging groceries at the neighborhood Stop 'n' Shop rather than leading men into combat, but this graduate of the United States Naval Academy is all gristle and guts, drive and determination.

He may not have legs, but he's still a Marine lieutenant, and when he learned his troops were coming back to Camp Lejeune from their tour in Iraq, he insisted on being here to meet them.

"I'm still part of the 2nd LAR even though I'm still up in the hospital right now," he told me. "The important thing for me was to see everybody step off the bus I was supposed to walk off.

"To be able to do that is like closing a chapter of my life."

Determination is one thing. Medical realities are something else. Kinard, a 24-year-old native of Spartanburg, S.C., has been in military hospitals since his injury, first at Bethesda Naval Hospital and now at Walter Reed Army Hospital in Washington. He has undergone more than 40 surgeries in the past six months, the last one just two weeks ago. Doctors weren't sure he was up for a trip to Camp Lejeune.

But thanks to a private jet arranged by the Hope for Warriors Foundation, Kinard flew into Jacksonville's Ellis Field to a flag-waving reception by Marines, family and friends. Law enforcement officers and Patriot Guard Riders on flag-bedecked motorcycles gave him a loud and colorful escort to Camp Lejeune. There he was presented with a high-tech, all-terrain wheelchair along with hugs and cheers from his fellow Marines and their families.

"His is the true American spirit," said Marine 1st Lt. Eric Swanson, who with in Iraq with Kinard and the 2nd LAR. "He never quits trying. He was very badly hurt, but he was still directing his Marines until he passed out. People did some amazing things to save his life."

Everyone made a big fuss over Kinard when he arrived at Camp Lejeune. He was gracious and patient with the attention.

"I represent just one person out of all these Marines who were willing to give their all," he said. "I just want to emphasize those who could not be here today, those Marines who paid the ultimate price."

Then he met with a group of enlisted Marines who were also wounded in Iraq and are now recovering at Camp Lejeune's Wounded Warrior Barracks.

The injured grunts -- some with scars and some with canes -- gathered around Kinard as if setting up a defensive perimeter to shield him from the crowd. And they called him "LT," the infantrymen's affectionate nickname for young lieutenants who have earned their respect.

Kinard will likely be back at Walter Reed by the time you read this. He's due for more surgery and eventually will be fitted with prostheses. But for just a few minutes, in a room packed with well-wishers and journalists, he was able to shut all that out.

The LT was back where he belonged, back with his Marines.

Finally, he was home.