Spc. Joseph P. Dwyer was a United States Army veteran, having served with the 3/7 Cavalry, stationed out of Fort Stewart, Georgia. He was a highly decorated soldier and was awarded the Combat Medical Badge. During the first week of the war in Iraq, a Military Times photographer captured an arresting image of Joseph as he raced through a battle zone clutching a tiny Iraqi boy named Ali. The photo was hailed as a portrait of the heart behind the United States military machine, and Doc Dwyer's concerned face graced the pages of newspapers across the country. But rather than going on to enjoy the public affection for his act of heroism, he was consumed by the demons of combat stress he could not exorcise. For the medic who cared for the wounds of his combat buddies as they pushed toward Baghdad, the battle for his own health proved too much to bear. Joe served in Iraq with 3rd Squadron, 7th Cavalry Regiment as the unit headed into Baghdad at the beginning of the war. As they pushed forward for 21 days in March 2003, only four of those days lacked gunfire. The day before Warren Zinn snapped his photo for Military Times, Dwyer's Humvee had been hit by a rocket. About 500 Iraqis were killed during those days, and Joseph watched as Ali's family near the village of al Faysaliyah was caught in the crossfire. He grabbed the 4-year-old boy from his father and sprinted with him to safety. Zinn grabbed the moment on his camera. The image went nationwide and Dwyer found himself hailed as a hero. He did not see it that way. Joe was just one of many who wanted to help after the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001. He'd grown up in New York, and when the towers came crashing down, he went to see a recruiter. But when he returned from war after three months in Iraq, he developed the classic, treatable symptoms of PTSD. Like so many other combat vets, he didn't seek help. In restaurants, he sat with his back to the wall. He avoided crowds. He stayed away from friends. He abused inhalants. Joe left the Army after he redeployed and made the news again in 2005 for his run-ins with the law in Texas. In 2005, he and his family talked with Newsday to try to help other service members who might need help. He talked with the paper from a psychiatric ward at Fort Bliss, Texas, where he was committed after his first run-in with the police. In October 2005, he thought there were Iraqis outside his window in El Paso, Texas. When he heard a noise, he started shooting. Three hours later, police enticed him to come out and no one was injured. He promised to go to counseling, and promised to tell the truth. Joe and his wife were expecting a child and he seemed excited about the pregnancy. He died of an apparent overdose at his home at age 31. He was preceded in death by a brother, Patrick John Dwyer; and a sister, Mary Elizabeth Dwyer.
Spc. Joseph P. Dwyer was a United States Army veteran, having served with the 3/7 Cavalry, stationed out of Fort Stewart, Georgia. He was a highly decorated soldier and was awarded the Combat Medical Badge. During the first week of the war in Iraq, a Military Times photographer captured an arresting image of Joseph as he raced through a battle zone clutching a tiny Iraqi boy named Ali. The photo was hailed as a portrait of the heart behind the United States military machine, and Doc Dwyer's concerned face graced the pages of newspapers across the country. But rather than going on to enjoy the public affection for his act of heroism, he was consumed by the demons of combat stress he could not exorcise. For the medic who cared for the wounds of his combat buddies as they pushed toward Baghdad, the battle for his own health proved too much to bear. Joe served in Iraq with 3rd Squadron, 7th Cavalry Regiment as the unit headed into Baghdad at the beginning of the war. As they pushed forward for 21 days in March 2003, only four of those days lacked gunfire. The day before Warren Zinn snapped his photo for Military Times, Dwyer's Humvee had been hit by a rocket. About 500 Iraqis were killed during those days, and Joseph watched as Ali's family near the village of al Faysaliyah was caught in the crossfire. He grabbed the 4-year-old boy from his father and sprinted with him to safety. Zinn grabbed the moment on his camera. The image went nationwide and Dwyer found himself hailed as a hero. He did not see it that way. Joe was just one of many who wanted to help after the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001. He'd grown up in New York, and when the towers came crashing down, he went to see a recruiter. But when he returned from war after three months in Iraq, he developed the classic, treatable symptoms of PTSD. Like so many other combat vets, he didn't seek help. In restaurants, he sat with his back to the wall. He avoided crowds. He stayed away from friends. He abused inhalants. Joe left the Army after he redeployed and made the news again in 2005 for his run-ins with the law in Texas. In 2005, he and his family talked with Newsday to try to help other service members who might need help. He talked with the paper from a psychiatric ward at Fort Bliss, Texas, where he was committed after his first run-in with the police. In October 2005, he thought there were Iraqis outside his window in El Paso, Texas. When he heard a noise, he started shooting. Three hours later, police enticed him to come out and no one was injured. He promised to go to counseling, and promised to tell the truth. Joe and his wife were expecting a child and he seemed excited about the pregnancy. He died of an apparent overdose at his home at age 31. He was preceded in death by a brother, Patrick John Dwyer; and a sister, Mary Elizabeth Dwyer.
