Spangdahlem master sergeant receives Purple Heart

  • Published
  • By Senior Airman Amaani Lyle
  • 52nd Fighter Wing Public Affairs
SPANGDAHLEM AIR BASE, Germany (USAFENS) --  When the blast of an explosive device sent his sport utility vehicle hurling 45 feet away from his convoy in Baghdad City, Iraq, Master Sgt. Jimmie Hughes literally did not know what hit him.

About a year since that fateful day when Sergeant Hughes was knocked unconscious, he was honored here Nov. 11 with the prestigious Purple Heart military decoration, the world’s oldest of its kind in use. The decoration signifies that a U.S. military member or a U.S. civilian national suffered serious injury or death in action against an enemy of the United States.

As the soft sounds of the National Anthem echoed across the supply warehouse, it was here at Sergeant Hughes’ in-garrison work station that the story would be told publicly for the first time. Sergeant Hughes relived the day that dumb luck and smart training saved his life.

Two Army Soldiers were in the front seats of the vehicle while Sergeant Hughes rode in the back passenger-side seat. The three men were on their way to Baghdad International Airport.

“We were going to pick up trailers used to load weapons and ammunition,” he wrote in a letter read aloud by one of his colleagues. “The trip normally took about 15 minutes, but I figured without traffic, we could do it in 10. I had five bucks riding on it.”

When Sergeant Hughes’ vehicle, fourth in the convoy, passed the center of the bridge, a car waited for the convoy to pass. What happened next not only cost the NCO five dollars, but nearly cost him his life.

“As our vehicle passed the waiting car, I saw the driver of that car punch the accelerator and plow into the front of our truck,” Sergeant Hughes wrote.

In an instant, the impact detonated the improvised explosive device, blowing a hole in the concrete overpass the size of a compact car. Amidst the earth-rumbling shower of glass and debris, the bomber died instantly, and his engine shot fifty feet above Sergeant Hughes’ vehicle. But the disaster was far from over.

The force of the explosion collapsed the cement overpass and a massive slab of concrete fell from the bridge, instantly killing a driver traveling beneath it.

Twenty minutes elapsed before rescuers knew the fates of Sergeant Hughes and his two Army passengers, who sustained severe injuries and were knocked unconscious. The wounded men were thus far unaware they had just survived an insurgent’s attack.

What woke Sergeant Hughes was the pain that followed when combat lifesavers (unit-assigned emergency medical technicians) had to reset his dislocated shoulder on site.

“The pain in my shoulder was blinding,” Sergeant Hughes said. “I also broke three bones in my left foot when it was crushed by the passenger seat.”

Sergeant Hughes and his comrades were taken to a hospital in Baghdad. The recovery for each of them would take months, but the lessons would last a lifetime.

The uncanniness of having mounted about 1,200 pounds of vehicle armor to his SUV just days prior to the incident was not lost on Sergeant Hughes. Still, he relayed to civilian and Airmen attendees at the ceremony what he felt was also a critical factor in his survival.

“Take the training you get here seriously,” he said. “We’re on the front lines with the Army, Navy and Marines, and the skills we develop right here at wing level can save our own life or our buddy’s life.”