The room fell silent as a representative from 3rd Battalion, 1st Marine Regiment, asked for volunteers for an upcoming deployment. Of the 45 Navy hospital corpsmen required to support an infantry battalion, 3/1 had just 11.

“He said, ‘I know it’s a lot to ask. I know you just got back. But we’re no shit going to do the Battle of Fallujah,” said Shaun Aragon, a corpsman.

With virtually no time to consider or debate the decision, seven raised their hands. Aragon was one of them.

Once in Iraq, Aragon found sporadic combat incidents but not a sustained fight.

“You kind of get used to people taking shots at you,” he said. “You can’t leave the compound without an [improvised explosive device attack].”

However, nothing could have prepared him for what he saw in Fallujah.

One dead insurgent he found had no eyes and was missing his face. His exposed skull appeared to be polished. A dog had been eating the enemy fighter’s face.

“Nobody prepares you for dealing with that,” Aragon said. “And that’s one incident.”

Other horrors of war included rendering aid to a first sergeant whose foot was twisted entirely backward. One Marine was shot in the helmet, which curved the bullet around the Kevlar and out the other side, missing his head entirely.

Another surreal moment unfolded as an insurgent emerged from the rubble of a crumbling house only to lob a grenade at Marines.

Of all of the casualties he assisted throughout the battle, Sgt. Strader stands out. The two were close friends. So when Aragon rushed inside a house after being called and saw that Morgan had been shot, he jumped into action.

As an enemy bullet passed in front of his eye, Aragon worked to calm Morgan down.

“I just talked to him,” Aragon added. “I’m here; I’m not going anywhere.”

Aragon continuously performed CPR on Strader as he was evacuated, but the Marine ultimately succumbed to his wounds.

In the years since the battle, Aragon’s hand still shakes. He developed a speech problem, which was never an issue, and breaks down when triggered by the memories.

“There isn’t a day that I don’t consider the three Marines I lost,” he said.  “All of these memories overlaid on top of each other, and it’s like a film reel.”

He retired in 2019 after 20 years of service. Today, he works in grief counseling, assists the dying and volunteers with hospice.

When reflecting on Fallujah and his difficult readjustment, Aragon is struck by the sheer terror of war and his stubborn spirit to help fellow Americans no matter the cost.

“I saw a lot of horrible things, but I saw a lot of amazing things, too,” he said. “That’s human capability.”

Learn more about Fallujah: 20 Years Later at fallujahstories.org.