I can roughly remember (it's been 17 years) that I had been scheduled to fly that evening. I was a combat search and rescue radio operator aka flyer. We (my crew and I) had gone out around 4:30pm to preflight our aircraft. The aircraft was perfect. Nothing broke or damaged, it was flawless. The plane seemed alright and then our engineer looked at the engine records. The number 3 engine was coming due a major time compliance inspection. Because of that, we canceled the flight and rescheduled for the next morning.  Because of that, we returned to our rooms in bldg. 131. The crew joined up in one of our crewmates rooms and settled on playing Nintendo for the evening. I remember come 9pm I reminded the others that we were now in crew rest for the next day’s mission. Because of that, we said goodnight and parted ways to our rooms to get sleep. I was the odd ball being the only one on the 3rd floor. The others were all throughout the 6th floor. I went to bed around 9:30pm. I went to sleep quickly only to have Mother Nature wake me at 10:05 to use the bathroom. I got up, went to the bathroom, and shortly thereafter the bomb blew and changed my life forever. I fell the 3 floors, went comatose on impact, and was buried by the 5 floors above me. I laid in the rubble for approx. 2.5hours before being found. When they found me I was given 5 pints of blood because I had suffered a head-injury that had almost bled me to death. Once I received the blood and care, I was moved to a Saudi hospital. During the move my dog tags were lost and I became misidentified.  As it was, I was identified as one of the attack victims. This error lasted for about 1 week. It was partially resolved when a fellow flier from another aircrew saw me in the hospital. When he saw me, he recognized me and saw that I was claimed to be another person. He quickly addressed this and I was then flown to Laundstoole Germany to verify who I was. Once in Germany I received 3 weeks of re identification tests. Once I was finally positively re identified, the good news was given to my parents that I had survived, and the awful news that there son had died was given to the other family. I was then (3 weeks later) flown to Walter Reed medical center in DC. I came out of the coma after being there for 1 week. I was awarded a purple heart, and medically retired. The story continues from there, but I'll save it for later. I'm now fairly independent, self-sufficient, and always trying to remind others about my story hoping that they will learn from my mistakes. One of these nights, I'll get bored, and type out my entire recovery story. The recuperation continues I assume you read my recap of the bombing and how I was "lost" and re identified. I will now continue with my recovery at Walter Reed. Here goes: After spending 3 weeks in Germany to be re identified, I was moved to Walter Reed Medical Center in DC. I had been in a coma for 4 weeks when I arrived. Upon doing so, I was greeted by the then Air force Chief of staff General Fogelmann. He quickly awarded me a Purple Heart and then gave me a medical retirement. I still think, to this day, that he was lucky that I was in a coma or I would have begged and pleaded for him NOT to retire me. That happened on week number 1 of my 5 weeks there. On week 2, I came out of my coma. Good you say. Well, I was not about to accept that I was now a survivor and patient. I immediately tried to escape. I had suffered a head injury so my balance and walking ability was nonexistent.  Because of that, I could not walk. I would get up from the bed, take 2 steps, and fall flat on my face. I would then get upset and frustrated that I could not walk. After struggling to get afoot, I settled down momentarily and just thought of my "escape". Since I couldn't walk, I sat on the ground and just brainstormed. As I did this, Survival School came to mind. I remembered being taught to move easily through an area, unnoticed, and flat on my stomach. Basically I remembered the "low crawl". Once this happened, I quickly positioned myself in the crawling position and tried it. It worked! I had gotten my movement back! Because of this, I crawled my way to the elevator trying to escape. No such luck though. I was spotted by a nurse and quickly apprehended and returned to my bed. This would happen again and again the entire 2nd week. By the following Monday I think my Doctor was going bald from puling his hair out trying to control me. He came in one morning and authorized the nurses to loosely restrain me to the bed. Apparently this Doctor was new or had not looked at my file. I had attended Escape and Evasion training for my rescue job. He, and the nurses, were not going to restrain me. The entire 3rd week there, I had to untie my restraints and then low crawl my way to the elevator only to be reprehended and returned to my bed. After doing this for the entire 3rd week, my Doctor was at a total loss. He took a Thursday off and only thought and contemplated how to control the psycho airman he was assigned. He came in the next day, after I had again attempted to escape, and told the staff he was going to order the assembly of a restraining cage around my bed. The cage was ordered and installed over the weekend. Once completed, I was caged to be kept in control. I will admit, it worked. For the next 2 weeks I was caged in order to remain safe. I again, and again, would try to escape with no luck. I was moved to Tampa's Veterans Hospital after week 5. I can now honestly say that if I had remained in the cage a 3rd week, I would have escaped it. After all of this happening, I was again relocated to Tampa. I would stay there for 9 1/2 months. They retaught me EVERYTHING. As I now say, if you don't like one of my habits or traits, don't blame me, blame Tampa. Tampa did an excellent job though. It's now been 17 years and I'm somewhat of a capable and independent person.