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MWi Hack:
- If you know a Purple Heart recipient, say thank you on August 7 — and then stop. Don’t ask what happened. Don’t point at the ribbon. If there is more they want to say, they will say it. Two of the three recipients in this article were asked outright what they want on that day, and without conferring they gave the same answer: nothing extravagant.
MWi Summary:
- The Purple Heart is the one American decoration nobody sets out to earn. More than 1.8 million have been presented since the award was created in 1782, according to the National Purple Heart Hall of Honor.
- Three recipients stationed at Fort Leonard Wood described the moment they received it in terms of grief rather than pride. Each one thought first about the people who did not come home.
- Command Sgt. Maj. Paul DeSanto felt embarrassed to accept his, knowing others were hurt far worse. A mentor explained that the award marks injury sustained in combat, not the severity of the injury.
- Asked how to honor a recipient on August 7, DeSanto and Gunnery Sgt. Jeremy Newby independently gave the same answer: a small thank you, and nothing more.
- A behavioral health officer’s guidance is to let the recipient lead. Some want to talk about it and some do not, and you do not know what the day costs them.
- A Purple Heart places a Veteran in VA Priority Group 3 automatically and exempts them from copays for VA medical care. Many recipients never hear this.
An Ounce of Metal
The medal weighs about an ounce.
That is where Melissa Buckley of the Fort Leonard Wood Public Affairs Office starts, and it is the right place, because everything else about the Purple Heart is heavier than the object. It is the only American decoration nobody wants to earn. To get it, something had to happen to you.
National Purple Heart Day falls on August 7. Buckley sat down with three recipients stationed at Fort Leonard Wood and asked them what receiving one was actually like. Their answers complicate the ceremony most people picture.
“The Weight of That Battle”
Master Sgt. Sean Ambriz earned his in 2009. He was a 20-year-old private first class in Afghanistan.
“The battle was the most physically and mentally draining day in my life,” he said. “When the Purple Heart was pinned to my chest, I could feel the weight of that battle and those we lost that day. It was a heartfelt moment that was surreal and hard to fathom.”
What the award became for him was an obligation pointed forward. Soldiers look at him and at what the medal represents, and he decided that made him responsible for something.
“It is my obligation to those before me and my previous leaders, to pass my knowledge and experience to the next generation,” Ambriz said. “It is my duty to teach them, so that they may learn from our successes, failures and endeavors.”
He described his plan for the day using two words most people outside the community have never heard. He intended to “pay tribute to my — alive day — by being grateful I am still here, when many others who earned this award are not.”
“I Can Still Drive”
Gunnery Sgt. Jeremy Newby was a 21-year-old lance corporal at Camp Fallujah in 2006, resupplying observation posts.
“We had just finished resupplying and my vehicle commander asked me to get on the radio and tell everyone to mount up,” Newby said. “After making the call, I put my Kevlar on, at that very moment a mortar round struck my vehicle, passing through the roof, off of my Kevlar and out through my door — then exploding.”
What he remembers next is screaming and more rounds landing around him. He heard his commander telling the other Marines they could ride in his vehicle, and he yelled back, “I can still drive.” He had no idea the Humvee was destroyed, and only understood what had hit him after the corpsman finished with him and he walked back to look at the truck.
When the medal came, it made him sad. He thought about the people who did not make it back.
“A Little Embarrassed”
Command Sgt. Maj. Paul DeSanto was a sergeant first class in Paktika Province in 2006. On the morning of June 28, one of his squad leaders asked for time at the firebase to rest. DeSanto agreed and took the man’s place on a resupply run. He was in the lead vehicle when it initiated a pressure-plate IED.
The blast destroyed the front of the truck, knocked out the driver, sent shrapnel into the gunner and injured DeSanto’s leg. It also killed the satellite radio, so they could not call for support. They left the vehicle and blew it in place. Everyone recovered.
Then he was awarded the Purple Heart, and what he felt was not pride. He was, he said, “a little embarrassed, because I knew people who had suffered much more serious injuries that also got the same Purple Heart.”
A mentor pulled him aside. “This helped me understand that the award is not for severity of injury, but instead for injuries sustained in combat, regardless of the severity,” DeSanto said.
That exchange is the whole article in miniature. DeSanto did not need the medal explained to him as a medal. He needed someone to tell him he was allowed to have it — that what he gave counted, even though he could name people who gave more. Service Anxiety ranks second among Veterans in MWi’s 2026 member survey and first among Active, Guard and Reserve members. This is what it looks like up close.
What They Actually Want on August 7
Buckley asked DeSanto and Newby how to honor a recipient on the day. Neither knew what the other had said. They gave the same answer.
“I would say most Purple Heart recipients would prefer nothing extravagant. A small ‘thank you for your service to this great country’ would suffice for most of them, as everything we do in the service is in the service of others,” DeSanto said. “We are not looking for accolades or ceremonies.”
Newby’s version was shorter: “a simple thank you and nothing more.”
He added that it can be awkward when someone points out his Purple Heart, and he would rather they did not, because “sometimes, it brings up memories we would rather ignore.”
“Honestly, I don’t feel like I did anything special, and I am just happy I got to go home to my family,” Newby said.
Letting Them Lead
Capt. Melissa Bagnall, a behavioral health officer with the Missouri Army National Guard’s 35th Engineer Brigade, put the clinical frame around what the three men described.
“Often times, the topic of receiving a Purple Heart is associated with significant grief and loss for the service member and their families,” she said. “It’s normal for service members to have varying responses to being a Purple Heart recipient. Some may not want to talk about the experience at all, while others may want to talk about it as a way to help others.”
Her guidance for anyone who wants to do right by a recipient is short. Be “mindful of the fact that we do not know the details of their experience or the overall impact on their lives. How they choose to talk about their experience is entirely up to them and should be respected.” And then the line that should govern the day for everyone else: “We should exhibit humility by allowing them to lead the conversations, while recognizing that we may never be able to fully understand or appreciate the magnitude of this type of honor.”
The Benefit Most Recipients Never Hear About
One practical note, because it goes unclaimed. A Purple Heart places a Veteran in VA Priority Group 3 automatically — regardless of how severe the wound was and regardless of income — and exempts them from copays for VA medical care. Recipients already enrolled in VA health care can ask the enrollment office to update their status on file.
Ambriz called it his alive day. That is the frame worth carrying into August 7. The day is not about an ounce of metal. It is about the people still here to be thanked, and about the ones they think of first when you thank them.
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