SUDBURY, Ontario — Cpl. William Kerr wears his wedding band on his right hand — a poignant reminder of both what he has lost and what he has gained.
Kerr's left hand was blown off by an improvised explosive device in Afghanistan two years ago. The blast also ripped away both his legs — rendering him Canada's first triple-amputee combat veteran since the Second World War.
Using his single remaining limb to play fetch with his dogs, Hunter and Boomer, their long leash becomes entangled in the electric wheelchair he uses to navigate the big backyard and cramped rooms of his family's rental home.
This is but a minor frustration in the daily onslaught of physical, emotional and financial challenges that have shaped Kerr's life since Oct. 15, 2008.
"Everything's changed. You can't do the things you loved doing before, and you're unable to do even the simplest things without having a chair pull you around or have someone do it for you," he says. "That's probably the hardest thing."
That, and the financial stress.
Kerr was raised never to take "hand-outs," and he resisted his friends' offers to raise funds for a new barrier-free bungalow. Eventually he accepted the gesture of support and gratitude, and the "Home for a Hero" project was born.
"When I was first approached about it I felt like I was a charity case and I didn't want to feel like that," he says. "I did feel like I was going to be taken care of by the people who sent me over there, the people who you think you are working for, or defending or whatever it is. That's who you want to rely on taking care of you."
Kerr is among a new generation of combat veterans returning home permanently disabled by physical and psychological wounds.
They left the war, though, to fight a new battle at home over financial compensation for their wounds.
One key complaint with the New Veterans Charter — passed in Parliament five years ago — is the lump-sum payment awarded for catastrophic loss — currently maxed out at $276,000. There is no extra compensation for a double-amputee who also loses his sight, hearing, or in Kerr's case, a third limb.
"It's a slap in the face — it really is," he says. "For the billions of dollars they waste everywhere, it blows me away that you have to fight for something that you shouldn't have to fight for at all. This should be black and white — they should be sitting down and writing a cheque, without even hesitating, for soldiers in this kind of situation."
Kerr had worked 17 years as a bartender but wanted to do something with his life his daughters Abigail and Zoe could "look up to." Then came the Sept. 11 attacks, and seeing the oppression of women and girls under Taliban rule confirmed his commitment to Canada's mission in Afghanistan. He was sworn in as a reservist with the Second Irish Regiment in Nov., 2003, and took basic training the following summer.
The first six-month tour took Kerr on 200 convoy security missions with an all-reserve platoon. He pleaded for an extension and, once home, couldn't wait to go back. He returned to Kandahar in Sept. 2008 — this time mentoring and training the Afghan national army.
Kerr was fifth through the doorway during a patrol to clear out buildings Oct. 15. He was standing directly on top of the remote-controlled improvised explosive device when it went off — likely saving several others from injury or death.
Defying his own odds for survival, he was rushed to Kandahar field hospital, then on to the U.S. military hospital in Landstuhl, Germany where he woke from a six-day coma to find Tracy by his side.
"I knew I was pretty messed up. I tried to chase her away, but she wouldn't have anything to do with it," Kerr recalls. "She made me laugh. And I knew she wanted to stick around, I guess."
The couple were married nine months later. With intensive, determined rehabilitation and prosthetics, the groom was even able to walk down the aisle.
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An extra $2 billion in benefits for new veterans recently announced by the federal government is seen as a good first step to addressing the flaws of the New Veterans Charter, but some advocates are skeptical about specifics. They also say measures don't come close to addressing their concerns about financial support for families, payments after age 65 and the erosion of benefits from taxation.
Veterans' Ombudsman Pat Stogran has calculated how the NVC stacks up with its predecessor pension program and estimated today's disabled veterans stand to lose about 40% in financial support. Younger soldiers fare worst under the new system based on rank and pay level at time of injury, and he has little confidence the cash will clear bureaucratic hurdles to reach those in greatest need.
"All they've done is throw a little bit more money at the problem," he says. "There's still a lot more work that needs to be done, and it's going to need more than a patch."
Veterans Affairs Minister Jean-Pierre Blackburn says the government is committed to rectifying the NVC's wrongs. New measures — including a new $1,000 monthly allowance for permanently disabled vets that will be on top of their 75% former salary and an allowance of between $536 and $1,609 — will help lower-income disabled vets.
"We had to correct the situation, because it was unfair," he says.
Blackburn promises more measures are on the way, including proposed changes to the lump-sum disability payment.
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At 46, Maj. Mark Campbell is more worried than most about growing old. He was at the "pinnacle" of his military career with the 3rd Battalion of the Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry in Edmonton when he was hit by a command-detonated IED on June 2, 2008.
The blast took both his legs. Enemy then used the dust, confusion and screaming to launch a three-way ambush — pummelling the Canadians with rocket-propelled grenades and heavy machine gun fire.
"You're under fire and you've just been blown up. It was a bit disorienting, but I was fully awake, fully conscious. I couldn't hear anything and I had dirt in my eyes. I had a sensation of heat on my backside," Campbell recalls. "I tried to sit up, but because I was missing some weight, my legs came up instead. I saw my left leg was basically a charred stump spurting blood and my right leg was just hanging on by a few stringy things."
Between the reserves and regular forces, Campbell has spent nearly 30 years as a proud Canadian soldier. He loved the life, the camaraderie and the adventure. Now, being around able-bodied soldiers is a "mentally corrosive" reminder of what he has sacrificed.
"We're trapped in a uniform because we can't afford to get out," he says. "I want to get out. I want to take the uniform off. Every time I put the uniform on, I die a little bit inside because it reminds me of what I can't do."
Campbell suffers acute phantom limb pain, short-term memory loss and hearing impairment from the explosion.
As a veteran infantry soldier, he is trained to deal with adversity and "suck it up." In many ways, the trauma took a heavier toll on his wife, son and daughter. There has been a reversal of traditional roles, as he can no longer swing a hammer or even change a light bulb.
He calls the lump-sum payment — which replaced the former pension program — "insulting." It does not compensate for his loss of hearing, disfiguring scarring, short term memory or the loss of his testicle and its impact on marital relations.
Campbell has no quarrels with the Canadian Forces or the government ministers of defence or veterans affairs — he blames federal bureaucrats for crafting flawed policy that disadvantages the most vulnerable, needy veterans.
"I'm outraged. I feel betrayed. I don't feel betrayed by the Canadian Forces, I feel betrayed by Canada," he says. "It's quite a feeling to serve your country and then turn around and have to battle against it in order to get a reasonable standard of living for you and your family for your horribly altered life."
Master Cpl. Jody Mitic, a double amputee who now serves as national outreach co-ordinator for the Soldier On program, is also hesitant to leave the military due to financial uncertainty. He calls it "disappointing."
"It isn't nearly enough when they're spending $2 million for a temporary lake in downtown Toronto and a guy gets $250,000 for getting his legs blown off," he says. "And it's not about money — it's about security and quality of life that you earn for yourself."
Cpl. Kerr has received funds for temporary renovations, equipment and prosthetics and may be eligible for some federal help for his new home. But he worries about how long he can stay on contract with the army — and what his financial future holds.
He has trouble sleeping and chases away the "demons" and dark thoughts by staying focused on the positive: his daughters, wife Tracy and their new sanctuary.
"I think about a lot of stuff, good and bad — how lucky I am, and how good it is to be alive," he says.
