Your Impact

After a few missteps in college, Jeremiah found his way to the Army, where he discovered a sense of purpose and immense pride in wearing the uniform. “I absolutely loved the uniform,” he recalls. “I was raised in a house that was patriotic and respected the military, and I loved it all – field training, jumping, and being in the community.” His journey took him from airborne school to the schoolhouse as a machine gun instructor and to a recruiting station.

In early 2006, Jeremiah deployed to the battlefields of Iraq, where he lived and led with determination. Living in an Iraqi house inTal Afar with 40 other teammates, Jeremiah and his platoon faced countless attacks and attempts to thwart their mission of training local police. But in April 2006, his world changed forever.

While on patrol to clear an empty house, Jeremiah noticed a piece of lattice where a long green vine coiled, and at its tip bloomed a striking red-and-yellow flower. It seemed impossible—this flower, so vibrant and alive, thriving amidst war, and he couldn’t wait to tell his dad about it. As he turned to walk back toward the road, the world erupted as an improvised explosive device (IED) exploded. Jeremiah braced himself for the inevitable gunfire, and it wasn’t until he tried to raise his weapon that he realized something was wrong. His arm wouldn’t move; he’d been hit. A fellow soldier knelt beside him, applying a tourniquet with practiced precision. As Jeremiah was being carried out on a stretcher, the news came. His friend and teammate, PFC Jody W. Missildine, was dead. Jeremiah was fighting to stay strong, to keep his composure. But in his mind, the storm raged. “I had failed,” he says. “Failed to bring all my men home.”

Jeremiah was airlifted to Germany, and a week later, transferred to Walter Reed National Military Medical Center, where he underwent significant surgery to save his arm. For nearly three months, Jeremiah endured intensive treatments and therapy to heal and regain some strength. In July 2006, he returned to Germany to serve as the rear detachment for his unit that was still deployed in Iraq. As he continued to recover through physical therapy, Jeremiah wrestled with guilt and grief, haunted by the belief that he had failed Jody and his team.

Jeremiah medically retired from the Army in 2007, and the years that followed were marked by tribulation. Transitioning to civilian life was far from easy. He struggled to find a job and was quietly battling PTSD, guilt for Jody’s death, grief from his father’s passing, and alcohol abuse. He felt lost and disconnected, the camaraderie and mission of the military a painful void in his life. At his lowest point, he contemplated ending his life, but a single, unexpected phone call from the Wounded Warrior Project (WWP) became a turning point.

Through WWP, Jeremiah found a lifeline—a community of people who understood his pain and offered him hope. “That first time at Soldier Ride in Phoenix in 2011, it saved my life,” says Jeremiah. “It was the first time in such a long, long time that I was around people like me, people who understood service and sacrifice. It truly inspired me to find ways to help others.”

Driven by a desire to honor Jody’s memory, Jeremiah spent the next decade serving veterans through various nonprofits, rekindling his passion for service. Yet in 2023, Jeremiah found himself in a dark place, unemployed and questioning his self-worth. A friend from WWP encouraged Jeremiah to apply for Travis Manion Foundation’s (TMF) Spartan Leadership Program. Despite his doubts and feelings of inadequacy, Jeremiah found himself accepted into a program that became a transformative experience.

During one of the first activities, Jeremiah drew inspiration from the single flower he had seen in Iraq—its vibrant red and yellow petals thriving amidst destruction. That memory became a symbol of resilience and hope, deeply resonating with his group. For the first time in years, he felt truly seen and heard, surrounded by a community that understood his journey.

“Those first few days with my SLP cohort are beyond description. I remember being blown away – these were my people. It felt like coming home, and this opportunity was carved out and just waiting for me to come. I’m so thankful my friend from WWP pushed me and checked in on me, repeatedly, to make sure I had applied.”

Today, Jeremiah channels his energy into giving back. Through TMF, he mentors youth, teaching them values like integrity and perseverance. And every day, he lives with purpose, driven by the memory of Jody.

“I live for him,” Jeremiah says, reflecting on the journey that brought him here. “If there was ever a moment where I felt the weight of the world lift off my shoulders, it was when Jody’s family told me, ‘Let it go, son. It’s not your fault.’ That freed me to live again—not just for myself, but for him, for my family, and for everyone I can help. The greatest gift TMF has given me is the space to rediscover the fire and passion I have for helping other people, because I thought it was gone forever.”