By Kim Hilsenbeck.
Most months, we bring you a story about an interesting job or career from someone here in Hays County. In the past, we’ve shared “you do what?” stories about a private investigator, the Hays County SWAT team, a justice of the peace, a sex counselor, an environmental biologist, a make-up artist and more.
This month, we decided to offer a slight twist on this series. Since our overall theme is celebrating and honoring local veterans, this time we feature a vet who returned home but doesn’t have a job. At least, not yet. But he wants one.
Meet Donny Wills. He lives in the eastern part of Hays County near the Caldwell County line. With his laid back west coast pattern of speaking, combined with his full beard and mustache, it’s a little like Jeff Spiccoli meets Duck Dynasty with a splash of Full Metal Jacket thrown in for good measure.
We first met him a few months ago when he helped a neighbor who was badly beaten by her brother. She knocked on the door of his in-laws’ house, where Wills is living with his wife, for now, anyway.
This 28-year-old veteran was discharged with honors under a medical leave. He fought for his country for nine years, only to return with partial hearing loss, brain damage – including having occasion seizures – and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).
During his four tours of duty in Iraq, Wills saw and experienced things most Americans never will. Those situations shaped him, changed him. No longer the carefree young man who entered the Army after high school, Wills is the product of a generation of soldiers for whom life will never be the same.
When I met Wills for breakfast, I asked, “How are you doing?”
He replied, “I’ve had better days. I’m alright.”
Wills served in the 101 Airborne Air Assault Division, 1st Cavalry.
“I repelled out of helicopters,” he said.
His first marriage fell apart because of the deployments. His second marriage took place six months ago, but he has been with her four years. They have one child, and he has one from his first marriage.
How does his current wife handle the problems he faces from the military?
“She’s supportive. She wants to get more involved in that stuff,” he said. “She wants to go to therapy sessions with me and all that other stuff. But there’s a lot I haven’t told her that happened over there; there’s a lot I haven’t told anybody other than my therapist, you know.”
Wills is still in therapy.
“I just don’t want to let her in those doors and stuff, you know. But she handles it pretty well. I wake up at night, screaming, crying, sweating. She helps me go back to sleep. She reminds me to take my pills every night because I forget. She drives me to places I need to be driven. And she does all the things that need to be done, you know, so…”
The sentence lingered off. Some of his sentences do that. Occasionally, he pauses several seconds before answering a question. It’s as if his mind, which appears to function normally most times, just sort of cuts off for a little bit.
We got back to talking about his injuries.
Wills was in vehicles five times that were exploded by IEDs, or Inprovised Explosive Devices. He was shot twice.
“I’ve got a shotgun shell in my leg,” he said.
Kind of a little memento of his time in Iraq?
“Yeah, something like that,” he said.
It was hard not to look at the tattoos covering both arms. I asked Wills about the images. What did they mean, what significance did they have?
Two sentences in Latin that he had to translate were, “Do not wish illness upon your enemies.” And “If you want peace, prepare for war.”
He got all of his tattoos while in the military, a few in Iraq.
He pointed to one section.
“These are just whatever, just because.”
U.S. Army veteran Donny Wills, who lives in eastern Hays County, joined the military at age 18. He’s now 28. Here he’s seen smoking an “after mission cigar” while on one of his four tours of duty to Iraq. |
He pointed to another one.
“This one I got in Fort Campbell. I was drunk one night and I walked in there and said, ‘Dude, I want something that screams like fear and breathing at the same time.’ So my buddy did the skull that looks all demonic with eagle legs coming out of it. There you go.”
Looking at yet another image, he said, “I went and told the guy, ‘I want something with skulls and smoky and stuff,’ so he kind of drew this up on my arm and he said ‘here you go’ and I was like, ‘works for me, bro.’”
On his left arm is a picture of a knife. Drops of blood are spilling out and in several drops is a set of initials. They represent lost buddies. Some drops haven’t been filled in yet.
Who are the initials for?
“SSG Leroy Webster, SFC Johnny Polk, SPC Marisol Heridia and Sgt. Christopher Kurth.”
And the missing blood drops?
“SPC Matthew Holley, SSG James Estep, SFC (Gunny) James Hayes and SGT Micheal Knapp.”
There is also someone named James…not Everett, but it was something close to that, Wills said, like Everest or Everetts. He promised to look it up.
During our conversation, Wills talked about other friends who retired, one named Marcos, one named Brian who he said everyone just called “The Jew” because he was the only Jewish guy in the unit and apparently, he didn’t mind the nickname.
“They are messed up, too,” Wills said. “We got a lot of people ... everyone comes back messed up. You come back with something, some form or another,” Wills said.
Back in 2002, Wills decided to join the Army before the Iraq invasion but after 9/11. He’s a far cry from that naïve young boy he once was.
“I couldn’t get my football scholarship. I went to high school in Strathmore, CA. I wasn’t getting a full scholarship like I dreamed of because I tore ligaments. So I became a drummer in the school band.”
But instead of accepting a scholarship for the Fresno State marching band – he didn’t like the band instructor – Wills went to listen to what an Army recruiter had to say.
“Next thing I know I’m in Los Angeles raising my right hand and then I’m off to Oklahoma for basic training,” he said.
Now, nine years later, he’s living near Kyle with his in-laws, wife and child. The Army discharged him, he said, because in your unit, you’re judged like a piece of equipment.
“If you can’t complete certain tasks, you’re considered non-mission capable,” he said. “They give you a classification, Class 1, Class 2, Class 3 for your deploy-ability. If it goes over three, you’re not deployable. And if they can’t fix it right away within six months, they send you to these warrior transition units.”
Switching gears, we went back to talking about the night he helped his neighbor.
When she showed up at the door, bloody and passing out, his military training kicked back into action, as did his PTSD. They didn’t know if the person who did this to her was still outside, coming toward them or long gone.
How was he feeling?
Donny Wills, U.S. Army veteran, is taking criminal justice classes and trying to figure out what to do with the rest of his life now that he’s no longer in the military. Like so many other vets returning from combat in the Middle East, he deals with post-traumatic stress disorder, as well as brain damage and partial hearing loss. |
He paused for a long time.
“I wasn’t angry. It brings up sadness of me losing all my friends and stuff.”
But he put all that aside and did what he needed to do, which included trying to keep the woman conscious, stop the blood flow and prevent further injuries.
Now what? What’s life like for Wills these days?
“I’m on disability and social security.”
Will he be like that for a while?
“Yes,” he answered. “I mean, who’s going to hire someone who’s deaf, that has a seizure, that has a brain injury? I tried to find a job when I first got out. Nobody is hiring right now.”
Wills is working on his criminal justice degree, though he’s not sure just yet what to do with it once it’s complete.
He rattled off a few ideas, “Corrections officer, game warden, state trooper.”
In the meantime, he sees his therapist. Are things better?
“Oh yes, it’s better,” he said.
Does Wills ever think about his military time and get angry?
A little, he admits. But mostly he is looking forward to the future.
“The PTSD will get better. It’s a lot better than it used to be,” he said.
