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For our final Sense of Community segment on courage, we take a look into the life of someone who gladly risks it all for the sake of fellow citizens: a soldier. Major Andy Inglasbe is 54 years old. Growing up in West Plains, I knew him as someone who always had a twinkle in his eye and who was devoted to his family and country. He said he didn’t want this story to be all about him, but rather about the courage of all American soldiers. But his story is where we begin.

"As a little kid, I always wanted to be in the military," Ingalsbe said.

He says he felt like joining the military was his obligation as an able-bodied American.
 

"I always heard dad talk about my grandfather Ingalbse, and he was wounded in World War I. And I had an uncle who went into World War II at a real early age, and he was killed on Normandy Beach," he said.

He served in the Missouri National Guard for 27 years before retiring in 2005. But when he stepped down, his country was still at war. And the fact that he had never been deployed overseas kept him awake at night.
 

"I still felt like I had done a lot but still hadn’t done everything I could do for my country, so I came out of retirement to do that."

He was deployed to Iraq for a 15-month tour. Then, he was called to a very rural part of Afghanistan, where it was his job to work as a liaison between the military and the locals there.

Bicycles and donkeys were the modes of transportation. At the same time each day, Andy says, smoke would begin to rise from the homes, indicating the women were busy preparing food.

The villagers in Patika province kept sheep, a few goats, and chickens, and Andy says there was very little trash, because they hardly had anything to throw away.
One clear day, in the foothills, he went out on foot patrol to a home where it was thought there might be weapons.

"It was early in the morning, and there wasn’t much going on, which is kind of ununsual. Nothing was found. Two guys didn’t live there. And that was kind of unusual, because they don’t go to someone’s house and spend the night. While we were heading back, apparently, there were weapons there, but it was the wrong house. And they kind of regrouped and hit us from the back as we were leaving, and that’s when I got hit,” he said.

Andy was critically wounded, and had multiple surgeries in Afghanistan, Germany and at Walter Reed Medical Center in Washington, D.C. His spine was injured, and his right kidney and part of his colon were removed. The Army sent his Purple Heart in a bag from Afghanistan, along with his wedding ring, which they usually only do when they think a soldier isn’t going to make it.

Two or three days later, while Andy was still lying unconscious in a medical ward in Afghanistan, I came home, got my mail, and unfolded that day’s copy of my hometown newspaper, the West Plains Daily Quill. When I read the lead story, I gasped.
 

When choosing headlines, we journalists choose our words carefully. And I noticed that the editors didn’t use the terms “local man” or “West Plains soldier” like they usually do: Instead, in bold letters, it simply read, “Andy Ingalsbe Shot in Afghanistan.” And I knew they chose that headline because everybody knows who Andy Ingalsbe is.
 

We talk about courage, and his thoughts turn to his fellow soldiers who were with him that day in the field when they came under fire.

“The one to me that shows courage, and that falls under the definition of a hero is Sergeant Amsen. He was the platoon sergeant in charge. And he’s doing about twelve things at once. He’s on top of me, checking me out. He’s positioning the guys to protect themselves, and we were out in the middle of an open field. He’s checking ammunition. He’s getting them to return fire. He’s also talking to the base. He’s talking to the MedEvac to get them in. And I don’t know how he got everything accomplished that he did,” Ingalsbe said.

When he finally returned to West Plains, where the home fires were kept burning for him, he had a hero’s welcome: people lining up along the roadway in Springfield and Mountain Grove to welcome him home, as well as six miles of well-wishers along the road in West Plains, and over 100 motorcycles to escort him home.

“I’ve been overwhelmed with the support from the community. It’s almost been embarrassing. It’s too much for one person, and it needs to be shared. There are a lot of kids at Walter Reed…who are missing arms and legs, and some of them don’t have the community support. A lot of them don’t even have the family support,” Ingalsbe said.

Still, to this day, yellow ribbons line the downtown square, as well as the fenceposts, mailboxes and trees along the highway leading to the Ingaslbe home.

Today, Andy Ingalsbe is back in Washington, D.C. for further medical treatments due to his injuries.

He says his days as a soldier are over. So he will put away his uniform, this time for good, and fall back into civilian life.

For KSMU’s Sense of Community series, I’m Jennifer Moore.
 

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