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thedrifter
11-11-06, 08:04 AM
Despite his own pain, Uy gave buddies first aid
By Mark Sauer
UNION-TRIBUNE STAFF WRITER
November 11, 2006

"Easter egg" is the Marines' congenial code for a bomb that's discovered before it goes off.

"Fireball" stands for a bomb that has exploded.

On July 22, 2004, Staff Sgt. Rey A. Uy found himself screaming into the radio: "Fireball! Fireball! We've been hit!"

His Humvee was bringing up the rear of a 75-vehicle convoy in the desert of western Iraq when it was struck by a roadside bomb. Insurgents had detonated the bomb - also known as an improvised explosive device, or IED, in military jargon - with a cell phone.

"I saw a flash, heard a bang. It happened so quickly," Uy recalled.

The blast threw Uy back-first into the radio console. His machine gunner was bleeding heavily from a broken jaw. His driver suffered a concussion.

Though shaken and reeling from pain in his back, Uy provided first aid to the two wounded men until medics arrived.

"Uy refused to be taken out of the mission, realizing that his presence was still needed and to be removed would crush the platoon's morale," his Marine Corps commendation reads.

Uy retired in 2005 after 22 years as a Marine. Now 41, he said the memories of that day remain vivid.

"For my fresh, young Marines, 19 to 20 years old, it was like Disneyland out there. The adrenaline was flowing and it was all 'Gung ho!' " he said. "I've been at this a little longer. I tried to keep everyone focused and calm. I was just thinking, 'Thank God nobody got killed.' "

Uy participated in more than 65 combat missions during his two tours in Iraq. The Marine Corps awarded him the Bronze Star with Combat Distinguishing Device for his fearless actions in the ambush and during two similar incidents in April and June of the same year.

In the June incident, Uy's convoy got caught in a nighttime firefight near Fallujah. His Humvee was the target of small-arms and machine-gun fire, mortars and rocket-propelled grenades.

Uy "ran over 300 meters along the convoy, openly exposing himself to the enemy's fire to ensure his Marines had established advantageous firing positions and that they had turned off their headlights" for concealment in the darkness, according to the commendation.

During his deployments in Iraq, Uy served as the motor transportation chief for Battery L of the 3rd Battalion, 11th Marine Regiment. Now he works nights driving a tractor-trailer rig throughout the county. During the day, he cares for his 5-year-old son, Andrew, while his wife, Diana, is at work. The couple also have a 15-year-old daughter, Desiree.

"We're so grateful he is home with us and survived (the war) unhurt," Diana Uy said. "He has never been able to take part in his children's lives; now he can."

Rey said he was proud to serve his country as a Marine. Along with his medal, he has several photos and mementos of his military years mounted on the walls of his family's apartment.

But adjusting from life in a war zone to the workaday world was a greater challenge than he imagined, Uy said.

"It was hard at first when I came back," he said. "I'd stay up at night thinking about everything that had happened, playing over in my mind what I had seen and what we had done."

He sought solace by talking with buddies who had served with him in the Iraq war. But Uy still found himself "feeling claustrophobic at times," he said, "and constantly scanning people everywhere I went, looking out for who was behind me."

Uy, who also has a 21-year-old son and an 18-year-old daughter from a previous marriage, said combat duty left him with a strong feeling that he would not want to see his children join the military.

"I would support them if that's what they decided to do, but I would not encourage it," Uy said. "Freedom is not free - somebody always has to be willing to fight. ... I've concluded that I do not want anyone's child to have to endure what I've been through."