Injured Vets Segueing Back Into Action

What about people, I asked U.S. Army Spec. Josh Stein, who say that after losing both legs in Iraq it's understandable that there might be some things you can't do anymore, who say that it's okay if, from now on, you want to see the world from the seat of a wheelchair, that walking and running are something in the past, not the future? What do you say to them?

" Watch," he said. "Watch me do that. I will prove you wrong. I never give up on anything I do."

We were in the parking garage of the Sheraton Crystal City. Josh had stubbed out his cigarette and was popping a wheelie with his wheelchair. From his baggy shorts came two prosthetic legs, bent at the knees and ending in white running shoes. His 7-month-old daughter, Jasmine, gurgled in the arms of his wife, Nicole.

"It's one thing to know my limits," said Josh, 23. "It's another thing to say I don't want to do something because it's too hard."

On April 16, 2006, the Bradley Fighting Vehicle Josh was driving in Taji, Iraq, was hit by an improvised explosive device. He's still undergoing therapy at Brooke Army Medical Center in San Antonio, Tex. Yesterday the Saipan native was one of 12 wounded Iraq vets being taught a new skill: how to ride a Segway. They'll each soon get a $5,000 machine of their own, gifts of a nonprofit group called Segs4Vets ( http://www.segs4vets.org).

"No horsing around on the ramps!" shouted one of the instructors.

The comment may have been directed at Lance Cpl. Corey Smith, a 19-year-old Marine from Luna Pier, Mich., whose rapid mastery of the Segway was in danger of putting him in orbit.

"I love stuff like this," said Corey, who lost his left leg after a mortar attack in Ramadi. "Anything that moves fast. Any type of technology you can figure out."

Josh rose from his wheelchair and approached a Segway that was propped against a pillar. He tried first to lift his right foot onto the machine's platform but it wouldn't go. He tried his left and that was tough too. Finally, with help from his wife, he got up on the Segway, spun it in place and followed Will Hopper of the D.C. Segway Enthusiasts Group through the garage.

Josh had ridden around a nicely carpeted meeting room in the hotel. This was a chance for a more demanding, real-world lesson. He serpentined down the garage entrance ("Just like skiing," said Will), rolled over a 2-by-4, then powered over a wooden ramp.

After Josh had settled back in his wheelchair, I asked him about his distinctive tattoos.

"I had a couple on my legs that I lost," he said, "the ones that really meant something to me." Like the tribal pattern on his left leg that he'd been doodling since middle school.