 We are proud to be joined today by a well-known DEV leader who helped lead the charge to establish this memorial. He has been an endless presence and determined advocate for its use. Dennis Joiner is a combat disabled veteran of the Vietnam War. As a soldier in the US Army, he became a triple amputee after landmine exploded while he was on patrol in Vietnam's Mekong Delta in 1969. A life member of DEV since 1970, Joiner served as a national commander from 1983 to 1984. 1983, President Reagan named him the Handicap American of the Year and that same year he was honored as DEV's national outstanding disabled veteran of the year. He was appointed board president for the Disabled Veterans Life Memorial Foundation in 2015. Ladies and gentlemen, your 2021 Convention Chair, Dennis Joiner. Thank you, Commander. Thank you. Thank you. Good morning, DAV and auxiliary. Welcome to Tampa. All right. It's been a long two years since we've been able to hold a national convention and it is such an honor to be here to welcome you back and to help support the important business that will accomplish this week. The pandemic and the suffering we face since our world changed has affected all of us. In ways great and small, it will cast a shadow on generations of Americans who will remember the time that we were forced to disconnect from the routines and relationships that brought us the most comfort. We have, all of us, lost something. As disabled veterans, caregivers and advocates, dealing with a setback is not a new concept. The shared experience of enduring life-changing losses is, in a way, the tie that binds us together. But to those of us who have sacrificed a great deal already, the cost of the pandemic has been the hole it has left in our hearts. I want to tell you about a couple of guys who made DAV a particularly special community to me. Just over a half a century ago, three young soldiers were called to war. I was one of them. The other two were Chad Colley and Jim Sersley. Jim was an athlete and, to be honest, a bit of a hellion from Rochester, Minnesota. He saw a billboard in his hometown that said, Uncle Sam needs you. Three months later, he was in the Army. Bootcamp hadn't challenged him physically and track vehicle training was a breeze. His biggest problem in the Army was that he wasn't what you would call a good garrison soldier. So he volunteered to go to Vietnam. He arrived in March 1968, a month after the Tet Offensive, as casualties were peaking. When he arrived in country, he found out his job in the military had changed. Son, his first sergeant told him, we don't actually have a motor pool, but we're going to get you a toolbox. You'll be a machine gunner in the third platoon. Chad took a different route. He joined the Army after running track and playing football in college. He was a very special leader. As a young officer with the 101st Airborne Division, he arrived in Vietnam in 1967 and found himself promoted from platoon to company commander in just six months. He was a rising star who would, many would have guessed, become a general one day. And my route from Vietnam was completely different. I had tried college, but I took a break just before I graduated. I got married and at just 19 years old had a son. But just as my new family had started, I received a very nice letter from the local draft board. They must have thought very highly of me because they placed me in a very special category. They called 1A. It was then that I found out that a student deferment was something you only get one time. I'd already played that card. Goodbye, Hare. Hello, Army. I started basic training in December of 1968, finished infantry training and was shipped off to Vietnam by the end of May. You might guess from looking at me, that didn't turn out so great. On patrol in the Mekong Delta, I lost three limbs as a result of a landmine explosion. A part of my war was over, but as many, as many of you know, a new fight had begun. Going back to Jim, Army life and away from the barracks suited him. After seeing fierce combat against the Viet Cong and the NVA, he was promoted twice in just 10 months. With just weeks left before the end of his tour, he was setting up a claymore mine for a night operation when he triggered a landmine. The blast dramatically amputated three of his limbs. The force and flame of the explosion were so intense that they cauterized his wounds. He didn't even need a tourniquet. His proximity to the blast probably saved his life. It took 30 days for Jim to regain enough consciousness to even realize what he lost. When his mother was able to make it to Fitzsimmons Hospital in Colorado, she walked right past him. She couldn't even recognize him after all he had endured. Meanwhile, Chad was leading his company in July of that same year when he stepped on a landmine in a Vietnamese village. As was the case for Jim and I, the blast ultimately took his legs and arm. He had earned the silver and bronze stars for heroism in combat. In 2014, Chad reflected on his injuries with gratitude. Life is so rewarding when you give yourself the opportunity to have success. The whole blast pod happened. Be the anchor that you gotta drag around for the rest of your life. When you consider the nature of my wounds and the fact that I survived. I mean, I was that close right up because this was a fail. They all said, fail. Between here and hereafter, I saw many men put in a body bag that you could have covered your wound with cord. So, do I feel blessed? You better believe it. We three made our way back to the states to face surgeries and uncertainty. It was a different time. There was no Americans with Disabilities Act. The world was a much less accommodating place. In 1976, I met Donna, who would go on to become my wife of the last 40 years. I felt whole again for the first time since the war. We, each of us, tried to move on. I met Chad in 1980 when we both served as national line officers for DAV. Because we had similar disabilities, we became known as bookends. Chad was a pioneering athlete in winter sports. After serving as national commander, he represented the U.S. in the 1992 Paralympics in France and won two gold medals. He was DAV's longtime national disabled veteran's winter sports clinic chair. He and his wife, Betty Ann, held workshops with recently injured veteran couples to share their experiences and offer advice on relationships and living. Chad excelled in real estate and remained a lifelong advocate for disabled veterans. And while he was able to convince me to try out one of his sit-skis, experimental sit-skis in Austria in the 80s, one thing he never could convince me to do was fly with him in his private plane. I met Jim in 1991 at an Orlando Magic basketball game. He was in the handicapped area across the court. I thought, this guy has to be a veteran. After the game, I introduced myself and I asked, did you lose your limbs and gnom? He told me instead he had been involved in a tragic tricycle accident when he was two. That was the start of a lifelong friendship. We hunted together and developed so many different ways to joke about our disabilities that people really weren't sure how to take us. Jim didn't use a power chair, so if we were going to lunch at an event like this, he'd grab onto the back of my chair seat and we'd get around. If someone saw him, he'd say, shh, he doesn't know I'm back here. Jim had returned to the States and tried to make a go of life in Minnesota, but the winters and the lack of accessibility brought him down here to Florida. Like Chad, he went into real estate. He married his lovely wife, Jeannie. He had four children, 12 grandchildren, and three great-grandchildren. He was a complete success and a leader in every sense. Until the pandemic, we were three. Three soldiers, three triple amputees injured in the same war in the same year, three with many of the same challenges and a shared desire to make life better for our fellow veterans and their families. Three past disabled veterans of the year and former national commanders. We were a community within the DAV community. We were never alone because even though we lived apart, we knew we had each other. Then came the pandemic. Though COVID-19 didn't take Chad's life, it took him away from us for the time that he had left. After 53 years of marriage, Betty Ann, his children and grandchildren bid him farewell at the end of January. Jim had just completed the grand slam of turkey hunting. He was staying with his son, Dax, in Montana when he fell ill. While the Viet Cong couldn't stop him, this terrible, insidious, microstopic virus took everything he had. These are not the only people that we lost since the last time we were here. They're not even the only past national commanders. Larry Paulzine and other Vietnam-era veteran past. And Craig Johnikin, Donna Tanner, Lucille McCarthy, Marybeth Schultz and Maureen Peterson, all past national commanders are no longer with us. And all of us here can think of a loved one we lost too soon. Or the separation that made a difficult time worse. And yet, here we are. While this pandemic has taken much away, we have a lot left. And that is what we're here to celebrate. Just before the pandemic, I reconnected with someone I hadn't seen since I was in Vietnam. Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to introduce you to my friend, Doc Hayes. I was serving with the 9th Infantry Division in the Mekong Delta in South Vietnam. We were out on a mission and I tripped a land mine. And the explosion costed the loss of both of my legs above the knee and my left arm. I never lost consciousness when this happened. So I knew everything that was going on. And without Doc and the sergeant, I probably wouldn't be here today. I thought about him a lot through the years. I wondered how he was doing and what he was doing. And done anything other than just sitting in a wheelchair with life. I just want the opportunity to get with Doc. First, I want to thank him. Secondly, it was just a part of me that kind of wants to apologize to him for what I put him through that day. And I know it wasn't my fault, but that's just something inside of me that I'm sure he's had a vivid memory for a lot of years for as bad as I was wounded. I still pictured that day, but that's going to be there for the rest of my life. It was very restless last night, thinking about it all night long. What do I want to say? How do I want to say it? Could I ever thank him enough? Thank you, thank you. Oh, you're welcome. I was afraid I'd be starting to be like, hey, I'm not reliving a lot of those experiences. I'm not going to react to that. But I would say now, reach out to him. I'm glad you did. I'm glad I did. Reconnecting with Doc before this national tragedy struck reminds me of the mercy of our creator. Doc is a life member of the DAV, and he's joined us here today. Without this man, I wouldn't be here today. Thanks, brother. While we can never fully replace what is taken from us, our DAV gives us a common calling, a shared mission. We honor our fallen by participating in our community. We remember their contributions by serving the cause that inspired them to greatness. If Jim and Chad were with us here today, they'd really be proud to see us gather and getting back to important work that calls us here. And they'd want us to get as much done and have as much fun as possible with our time together. This is, after all, an amazing place to spend some time. Just out in front of the hotel is the blue gazebo. You can hop on the Tico straight car. The line runs east to Ebor City and all the way north to Franklin Street in downtown Tampa. It's free of charge and accessible to all of us. The Tampa River Walk is less than a five-minute car ride from right here, and it stretches just over two-and-a-half miles along the Hillsboro River and Garrison Channel. It connects downtown Tampa's favorite attractions like gems on a string. Once there, you can enjoy the Florida Aquarium. There, you can even touch the stingrays. If you don't mind losing some limbs, I think I'll pass. From the Tampa Bay History Center to Sparkman Wharf on the Riverwalk, there's plenty to do. So please, enjoy yourself and make the most of this time. Take advantage of every opportunity we'll have to chart the course of our great charity with your fellow veterans and family members. Let me know if there's anything that we can do to make your stay here more worthwhile. God bless you and thank you all for your time.