When I met Jimmy, he was in that fabled Navy counter-terror unit—living life at a high frequency, experiencing hidden dimensions of Iraq and Afghanistan, fighting alongside men (and dogs) that he loved.

 

And then he got shot trying to rescue Bergdahl.  Ejected from the life he knew, and ashamed of what he thought were his failures, he put a gun in his mouth.  Friends and strangers took extraordinary action to save both his leg and his mind.  Initially, they succeeded at the first of those tasks, but Jimmy worked hard to ensure they would fail at the second.

 

Many will buy the book because they want to experience the Action Man element (which is considerable) -- to see war from the POV of a guy who is happy running at bullets and who sweeps up kids in a protective embrace as he does.  But then they'll be surprised, because what they'll find themselves drawn to is a different kind of courage, a new kind of courage, the courage Jimmy shows when he confesses (and chronicles) his brokenness.

 

And it turns out there are tools for this brokenness.  They were given to Jimmy.  And now he wants to give them to the rest of us.  Because we've all got wounds.

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