Minnesota ‘hometown hero’ lost his legs after IED explosion in Afghanistan — but not his spirit

CLEVELAND, MINN. – Avid hunter. Trap-shooting mentor. Son. Dedicated father and husband. Loyal friend. Southern Minnesota enthusiast.

Jack Zimmerman embraces all those personas. Yet he’s inevitably best known for another role: U.S. combat veteran.

As a member of the 101st Airborne Division, Zimmerman served Operation Enduring Freedom in Kandahar province, Afghanistan, for nine months during 2010 and 2011 — until he stepped on an improvised explosive device, or IED, in the midst of a battle, and his world changed forever.

“I was 21 and a half years old when I became a double amputee,” said Zimmerman, 35, “and in the hospital I learned that with a good attitude I could overcome everything and with a bad attitude, I couldn’t overcome anything.”

In the intervening years, Zimmerman has worked through many physical and psychological obstacles en route to creating a rewarding life that’s altogether different from what he envisioned as a teen.

“I’ve referred to him as a hometown hero,” said fellow Cleveland resident Cheri Rohlfing.

“What hits me the most about Jack is he had this horrible thing happen to him but he came back and made the best out of it.”

Blue Earth County’s Veterans Service officer and Marine Corps veteran Mike McLaughlin praises Zimmerman for his efforts to encourage, mentor and support other veterans of every stripe.

“Like my dad, who was severely injured in Vietnam and lost a leg, Jack doesn’t let his injury define him,” said McLaughlin.

“Jack is known because he cares about all vets and the community in general.”

Zimmerman departed Minnesota as an able-bodied young man and returned with no legs and only one functional arm.

After graduating from Cleveland Public School, Zimmerman attended the electrician/construction program at Albert Lea’s Riverland Community College and worked in that field for a time.

“Nobody has ever considered me a scholar,” laughed Zimmerman, “and I agreed with them.”

But an undeniable sense of adventure burned inside him that wasn’t quenched on the job.

“One day I left work and went to a recruiter’s station,” said Zimmerman. “I wanted to serve my country, to go to Iraq or Afghanistan and be on the front lines as soon as possible.”

Assigned to the 101st Airborne Division at Fort Campbell, Ky., following basic training Zimmerman was deployed on the 66th anniversary of D-Day — June 6, 2010.

“The D-Day veterans present motivated us to take on the mission ahead of us,” Zimmerman said.

By mid-June, Zimmerman and his platoon were in the thick of intense gun battles in Kandahar province.

It’s telling that Zimmerman says the worst moment of his life wasn’t when he suffered his own injuries but seeing his best friend destroyed by an IED during an ambush.

“It killed him instantly,” said Zimmerman. “And I was right there, maybe 15 yards away from him.”

“He gave the ultimate sacrifice,” said Zimmerman, “and I share my story to honor my best friend and make sure his sacrifice is never forgotten.”

Zimmerman fought on after that October loss, still mourning that his friend’s infant daughter would never meet her father. Following a two-week midtour leave in early February, he returned to once again tackle the Taliban.

“Ten days later, I was out on a foot patrol looking for a cache where we believed the Taliban were hiding weapons and ammo,” said Zimmerman. “We knew they’d defend it so we were prepared for a fight.”

Their instincts proved correct, but before they found the cache, Zimmerman stumbled on an IED in the middle of a plowed field.

Fully conscious while a buddy placed tourniquets on his arms, Zimmerman didn’t initially realize his legs were gone.

“Those guys worked on me in the battlefield,” said Zimmerman, “and I saw my whole life flash before my eyes. I heard the helicopter rotors and I reached down deep inside myself to draw in one more breath, to think about everything I wanted and hoped to do and accomplish.”

Because his arms were in shreds, a medic punched a Fast1 device into Zimmerman’s sternum to provide critical fluids.

The pain? Indescribable.

“I’d already fought that hard and long, so when the anesthesiologist told me I needed to stay awake five more minutes and he could save me, I thought, ‘Piece of cake,’” Zimmerman said.

Six days later, Zimmerman awoke at the San Antonio Military Medical Center in Texas. His first query was, “What do I have to do to get out of here?”

Subsequently, Zimmerman endured 20 surgeries over the next two years.

“I couldn’t do anything for myself — scratch my nose, drink water, feed myself. So, relearning everything was mission No. 1,” said the former right-hander, now a permanent southpaw.

“But everything I learned during my recovery set me up to live an incredible life now. Learning to be patient, to wake up every morning and push the hardest I can, to live the best I can every single day, that’s what I do because what was the point of saving my life if I was going to come home and do nothing with it?”

On May 28, 2011, while still in the process of healing and rehabbing, Zimmerman married his former prom date, Megan.

“She came to San Antonio to take care of me,” he said. “She stayed at my side and has never really left it since.”

Zimmerman is the first to admit it took him a while to find his groove, but he’s been spared from post-traumatic stress disorder despite all he witnessed and experienced.

He’s grateful for technological advancements that Vietnam veterans, for instance, didn’t have, like his two-wheel Segway wheelchair and “talk-to-text” cellphone features that dramatically improve his mobility and communication options.

“Many vets who went through injuries before me had it a lot harder,” said Zimmerman. “I have no reason to be sad or frustrated.”

Eventually, Zimmerman found that sharing his story with other veterans, civic groups and school assemblies was healing.

“If you sacrifice and don’t share what you’re going through, to me that’s a waste of a sacrifice because nobody will learn from it if I don’t share it,” Zimmerman said.

Launching his new career as a motivational speaker, Zimmerman discovered a new dynamism within himself. In his presentations, he urges listeners to “find the little wins that happen to you every day,” and to “make it about someone else because you don’t want to let others down.”

McLaughlin has worked with Zimmerman and others to establish Bravo Zulu House, a sober residence in Winnebago, Minn., that supports veterans afflicted with PTSD.

“For [wounded] veterans, it can go one of two ways,” said McLaughlin. “Either people have regret and doubt regarding their service ,or they turn, face into it and become a beacon for folks, instead of focusing on ‘Why me.’”

Zimmerman is in the latter category.

In his hometown, Zimmerman’s grit is recognized by residents like Rohlfing.

“A lot of able-bodied people wouldn’t do the things he’s done since he was injured,” said Rohlfing. “He and his wife are raising two kids, and they’re great for our community.”

Although much decorated — besides the Purple Heart, Zimmerman has received the Army Achievement Medal, Afghanistan Campaign Medal and Global War on Terrorism Service Medal — his daily presence as a father to two sons, husband to Megan and community volunteer is where he aims to shine.

And this self-professed non-scholar has authored “Five Minutes: 300 Seconds That Changed My Life,” the first in what he intends to be a series of books.

“God has pulled me through everything,” said Zimmerman. “When you’re seconds away from meeting ‘The Man,’ you tend to appreciate that relationship a little more.

“And everything I do I dedicate to God and to my buddy who died in battle 14 years ago. I’m just lucky to be here, living the life I do and trying to inspire others.”