'A hero in my eyes'

THE SOFT, early morning sunlight was still trickling into Tom and JoAnn McCloskey's Mayfair home when the phone rang with news they hoped never to hear.

Their youngest son, Kevin, a soldier, had been wounded in Afghanistan, a military official said. He had a broken leg, and maybe some internal bleeding.

They were upset, but somewhat relieved: Kevin was OK.

But the phone rang again a short while later, and the update was grim: Kevin had lost both legs below the knee.

The calls kept coming on that June 8 - from 8:30 a.m until 3 p.m. - and each time Tom and JoAnn picked up, another piece of their handsome and charming boy had been stripped away.

It wasn't until the following day that a doctor listed the rest of Kevin's injuries: a broken wrist, a broken collarbone, shrapnel to the right eye and second-degree burns over most of his body.

"It hit me that he was now a disabled veteran at age 20," Tom McCloskey said recently, as he laid pictures of Kevin on a coffee table in his living room. "You don't expect to say that about your son."

While the debate over the Iraq and Afghanistan wars has often centered on the number of soldiers killed, little attention is given to the 14,782 GIs too seriously wounded to return to battle.

Many - like Kevin McCloskey - face unimaginable obstacles away from the spotlight, in private.

"You read the newspapers and see 'Three killed, 25 injured' over there, but nobody really thinks about how bad those injuries are," said Leon Wesolowski, who lives around the corner from the McCloskeys. "The sad part is, you know there's a lot of guys who are injured as bad as Kevin is."

Kevin is still listed in critical condition at the San Antonio Military Medical Center. The Texas hospital specializes in treating soldiers who have been burned or have lost limbs.

JoAnn stays by his side constantly, while Tom and their older children, Michele and Michael, fly out on weekends.

Kevin has had 15 surgeries in the last few weeks as doctors try to put his broken body back together, his father said. He's fighting steady fevers and infections, and is rarely coherent because of the steady stream of medication pumped into his body.

"I expected him to look bad, but to see him struggle to just breathe and talk, that was hard to watch," said Kevin's brother, Michael, 27.

There have been little moments of hope. Tom McCloskey had to leave Texas on June 14, the day before Father's Day, to return to Philadelphia for his job as a sheet-metal worker.

"He hadn't been talking much at that point, but right before I left, he came to and said 'Happy Father's Day,' " said McCloskey, 50.

"That was the first time I really broke down because, you know, for a minute there, it was like I was getting my son back."

Frisky kid

Kevin McCloskey was something of a household name in Mayfair long before he shipped off to war.

As a little boy, he was a wide-eyed, perpetual-motion machine who had a way of getting his neighbors' attention.

"Oh my, he was frisky as a kid. This time of year, you'd always see him running and back and forth," laughed Barbara Milone, who lives just a few doors from the McCloskeys on Princeton Avenue near Charles Street.

"He was a happy-go-lucky person, the type who would shovel your driveway all day long if it snowed," she said.

When he was about 6 or 7, Kevin was pacing Princeton Avenue on his bike, selling pretzels at the top of his lungs, said Mark Capriotti, who owns Capriotti Brothers food market on nearby Frankford Avenue.

As a teen, Kevin - whose uncle, Mike McCloskey, played for the Philadelphia Eagles in the late '80s - found a home on the wrestling team at Northeast Catholic High School.

"He's the type of guy who can light up a room when he walks in," said Alex Ryzinski, 21, a close friend. "He was the one who dragged you out of the house and had the whole day planned out."

He took a job at Capriotti Brothers after high school and displayed his natural people skills.

"He was a pleasure," Mark Capriotti said. "He brought a lot of energy to work and went out of his way to help customers. He touched a lot of people."

War hits home

About two years ago, Kevin surprised those closest to him by choosing to enter the military, citing a desire to find some direction in life.

"He did it all by himself and just sort of told us one day," Michael said of his brother.

"He convinced me that he really researched it. We were concerned, but also proud of him."

Kevin made several visits to his Mayfair neighborhood during breaks from his basic training at Fort Campbell, Ky., before he shipped out to Afghanistan in March with the Army's 101st Airborne.

"He was being strong and funny and tried to joke about going over, but he was homesick, too," said Chuck Dugan, 20, a friend.

Tom McCloskey said his son's tour of Afghanistan began quietly, but the situation on the ground grew more violent during their recent conversations.

Army officials told the McCloskeys that their son had been out on a mission to secure a roadway June 8 when his vehicle was hit with an improvised explosive device (IED).

"He was driving, and he saw it at the last minute. He took the brunt of the blast. He actually caught on fire," McCloskey said.

It's hard to find a part of Kevin that wasn't hurt in the explosion. His right arm was shattered, as was his left collarbone. His pelvis was fractured in seven places. The leg injuries, of course, were the most devastating.

"A general told me that if it weren't for the other soldiers, he would have bled to death out there," McCloskey said, his eyes welling up.

Earlier this month, Kevin's family heard some good news - the second-degree burns on his face and the rest of his body were starting to heal. Exploratory surgery indicated that he would retain the sight in his right eye.

His pelvis was stabilized June 18 when doctors inserted a steel plate and several screws, McCloskey said.

But his son's recovery will be measured in small, arduous steps over months and years.

"He still has times where he spazzes out and starts thrashing around because he thinks he's back in Afghanistan," McCloskey said.

"Sometimes he looks at you with his eyes all glazed, and you know he's utterly helpless."

'Like a bad dream'

The McCloskeys, like many other families in this country, are learning firsthand about the great struggles facing soldiers who have risked life and limb in Afghanistan and Iraq.

Their son's injuries have particularly struck a chord in their neighborhood, where several large American flags have quietly popped up on telephone poles, and folks who moved away years ago now return for updates on Kevin.

Local business owners have offered to raise money, and some residents have given iPods and other gifts to Tom McCloskey for his son.

"Nothing ever hit home like this," Ryzinski said. "It's still like a bad dream."

The McCloskeys have no idea when Kevin will be able to come home with them, or how long it will take him to adjust to his injuries, physical and otherwise.

They marked his 21st birthday June 22 quietly, asking that friends send prayers instead of cards and balloons.

"Anyone who's out there trying to do good in this world, you keep in your prayers at night," McCloskey said.

"My son's just a regular guy who tried to figure out a way to better himself and became proud doing it. There's a lot of honor in that. He's a hero in my eyes."

Donations can be mailed to the Support for Specialist Kevin McCloskey Fund, 5135 Bleigh Ave., Philadelphia, PA, 19136, or at any area Wachovia Bank.