Clothing line a point of pride for wounded warriors

Jason Redman remembers what it was like to go out in public while recovering from war wounds - out into what he called "the land of stares and gawks."

A bullet from an enemy's machine gun in Iraq had shattered his face, obliterating his nose and one cheekbone. He was evacuated to the National Naval Medical Center in Bethesda, Md. During the course of his recovery, Redman had an eye patch covering one eye. He breathed through a tracheotomy tube and had tubes coming out of every orifice on his face.

"I looked really rough," Redman said.

He also had an external fixator - sometimes called a halo, with metal rods

affixed directly to his skull - that made it impossible to wear normal clothing. So Redman would rip or cut T-shirts and sweatshirts to fit over the device.

The problem got worse as the seasons changed.

"I got wounded in September, so getting into the winter, I was freezing my butt off," Redman said. "You're already self-conscious enough. You feel like a bum walking around in a slit T-shirt."

Those experiences motivated Redman, who lives in Chesapeake, to start up a non profit organization called Wounded Wear. Redman, a lieutenant with the Navy SEALs, created the organization about 18 months ago.

Earlier this month, Wounded Wear achieved its first major milestone: Redman and several supporters spent two days at Walter Reed Army Medical Center in Washington and at the Navy hospital in Bethesda, visiting wounded troops and handing out clothes, along with promises of free tailoring.

Working alongside a foundation formed by another SEAL, Marcus Luttrell, Wounded Wear distributed about 150 sets of clothing, each worth about $400.

The kits included a medium-weight jacket, polo shirt, three T-shirts, pajama pants and a luggage roller.

"I wanted to give guys high-quality clothing that resonated with them. I wanted something that was a badge of honor for the guys who wore it, a symbol of the sacrifice for those who would see it," he said.

The T-shirts are specially designed to call attention to the wearer's service - something that Redman realized was needed when he encountered people who wrongly assumed he'd been injured in a car or motorcycle accident.

That was after six years of war, he noted. Today's military patients bear their wounds after nine years of conflict in Afghanistan and Iraq, and people who see them in public should recognize their sacrifice, he said.

Before the recent clothing distribution, Wounded Wear gave T-shirts to wounded servicemen and women that said "Scarred so others may live free." The shirts can't be bought, he noted. They have to be earned. The criteria: a Purple Heart.

Now, in addition to handing out the kits, Wounded Wear offers to purchase any uniform items that wounded patients want, and get them tailored free of charge.

There's not much need for a uniform in a hospital, Redman knows. But it's meaningful to service members to have a fitting uniform, "a symbol of the sacrifice and the freedom that makes our nation what it is."

Although Wounded Wear sells some clothing through its website to raise money, most of its operating costs are covered by donations. Redman hopes to expand the operation to every city with a major military medical facility and to work directly with retail clothing companies for free or reduced-cost sportswear that could be fitted with Wounded Wear's logo.

The plans, though, take a back seat to the personal interactions that give Redman so much satisfaction: being able to knock on the hospital door of a wounded Marine, sailor or soldier, introduce himself, and know exactly what he or she is going through.

Redman remembers visiting with guests who came to see him when he was hospitalized, and the immense power that came from meeting guys "on the other side" of their injuries, living "their new 100 percent."

"I've lived it," Redman said. "I walked in those shoes, I've laid in that bed."

He acknowledges that juggling active duty at Joint Expeditionary Base Little Creek with his work for Wounded Wear is tough. Add to that his duties as a husband and father of three.

With 18 years of service - he was an enlisted sailor before becoming an officer - Redman plans to retire in two years, and he hopes to run Wounded Wear full time.

"I like to joke Wounded Wear is a full-time job I'm trying to do part time," he said. "I don't get a lot of sleep, I drink a lot of coffee, and I spend a lot of time on the phone and computer."

Kate Wiltrout, (757) 446-2629, kate.wiltrout@pilotonline.com