B. T. Collins
Four years earlier, Collins’ own grenade had blown away his right arm and leg. On a tour of Russia, I watched as he turned that limitation to his supreme advantage, disarming and mesmerizing people in his wake. He nicknamed me “Crutch.” My shoulder helped him negotiate the hilly terrain of the Russian countryside--the only time he asked for help. He attributed his relentless spirit to the inspiration of his wounded comrades and the nurses in his rehab unit when he came home, back to the States.