Sergeant First Class Johnathon McDaris

Join us on Operation Insight as we host Sergeant First Class Johnathon McDaris!

 

Destiny is a big concept, and Johnathon McDaris thought he had it figured out. Spoiler alert: he didn't! And how could he? No one could have predicted the highs and lows SFC McDaris would experience from joining the National Guard in 1999 to medically retiring in 2015; from learning of the 9/11 attacks while in Basic Training to being televised while raiding the compound of Saddam Hussein's monstrous sons. But there was one person in SFC McDaris' life who had enough insight to know the soldier's life wasn't going to be easy, but it would certainly be worth it. That person was 1SG Ted McDaris, Johnathon's Purple Heart-recipient father. Looking back now, Johnathon can see a divine hand guiding many of his actions and the circumstances in which he found himself. Throughout it all, much like his father and grandfather did before him, Johnathon served with dedication, resilience, and a strong sense of self. As Johnathon says, "That's what McDaris men do."

 

(00:00) Disclaimer

(01:24) Part I

(43:24) Part II

 

"What It Felt Like", written by SFC Johnathon McDaris (Ret.)

In 2006, I was blown up by an IED. It was made of five 155mm artillery shells—something most people won’t have a frame of reference for. So when I try to explain what it felt like, I have to reach for comparisons that still fall short.

Imagine a car crash happening in less than a blink—no brakes, no warning, just impact. But instead of metal crunching metal, the air itself turns solid and hits you all at once. You don’t hear the explosion as much as you feel it, like your whole body got struck by a thunderclap. Your bones rattle. Your lungs forget how to breathe. And for a few seconds, the world becomes a vacuum of noise and light.

It’s not just the blast, either. The heat scorches. The shrapnel doesn’t care what it hits—it’s just spinning death. Every tiny piece of gravel, every bolt, every splinter of metal in the vicinity becomes a bullet. It’s like standing in the middle of a tornado made of knives.

Then comes the silence. Not peace—silence. Your ears ring like someone struck a tuning fork inside your skull. Your brain struggles to keep up. You might not feel pain right away. You might not even realize what just happened. But something deep inside you knows that your life just changed.

I carry that day with me, not just in scars or surgeries, but in the way I see the world. And while I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, I do wish people could understand that when a blast like that goes off, it doesn’t just destroy what's around it. It reaches into you and leaves fingerprints on the parts of your life that people can’t see.