Holy Cow Yoop! Lead with the other leg for once. The worst injury I got while jumping was a cracked tailbone in Jump School on my third jump. It hurt like hell, but I didn't want to recycle, so I did the last two jumps, thinking I could then let it heal. It was not to be so easy. First week at Bragg they had us jump twice out of Hueys. Four jumps with a cracked tailbone.
Besides that, all I really had was heat stroke on the DMZ in Korea, frostbite in Alaska and second degree sunburns from the waste up in Death Valley.
Heat stroke in Korea? My younger son has been there for a couple of years, and that seems to be the least of his worries. He told me about an incident where he was wading through 3 feet of snow, took a shortcut, and wound up at the bottom of 14 feet...
Back to the subject: I'm an officially disabled combat veteran, with a zero percent disability rating (long story; I never finished the paperwork). And don't get me wrong; I appreciate people who appreciate my military service. But I've done a lot of things since.
If I ever called a talk show, identified myself as a veteran and heard the inevitable and obligatory, "thank you for your service to the country," I'd be tempted to tell the host, "stuff it, dude. That was forty years ago. You might as well congratulate me for the wrestling tournaments I won in high school.
"Instead, maybe you should try talking to me about the two sons and 17 foster children my wife and I raised, or the houses, garages and decks I designed and built, or the ridiculous hours I've put in for 16 years making sure that when homeowners in Southern California turn their stove burners on, they get a flame."
Or maybe instead he should tell me to shut up, crack another homebrew, mellow out and stop being such a misanthrope.... thanks to everyone for your appreciation of veterans, even if I don't seem to properly appreciate the appreciation.