On September 11, 2001, Lieutenant Colonel Brian Birdwell was working on the second floor of the Pentagon's E-Ring (the outermost ring) when American Airlines Flight 77 struck the building. He was just 15 to 20 yards away from the exact point where the nose of the plane penetrated the structure, making him one of the closest people to the impact to survive. Moments before the crash, Birdwell had stepped out of the restroom. When the aircraft hit at 9:37 a.m., he heard a sound louder than anything he had ever experienced. The explosion tossed him "like a rag doll" down the corridor and instantly set him ablaze. The intense heat and fuel vapor melted his polyester military uniform directly onto his skin. Trapped in pitch-black, toxic smoke, and unable to breathe due to searing air and jet fuel vapor, Birdwell collapsed. Believing he was about to die, he prayed, said a silent goodbye to his family, and "accepted his death". Suddenly, the Pentagon’s ceiling sprinkler system activated right above him, extinguishing the flames on his body. This gave him just enough strength to crawl and find help. A group of colleagues found him in the smoke, pulling him to safety. Because the burns were so extensive across his body, a medical team at a makeshift triage station inside the Pentagon had to administer an IV and morphine directly through his feet, which were the only parts of his body left unburned. Birdwell suffered burns over 60% of his body, with nearly half of them being third-degree. His most critical injury was an intensive internal inhalation injury. The scorching air and toxic fumes had severely seared his lungs, requiring him to be placed on a respirator for several weeks. Doctors initially gave Birdwell less than a 1% chance of survival, prompting him to say what he thought were his final goodbyes to his 12-year-old son from his hospital bed. Against all odds, he survived. He spent 92 days at the MedStar Washington Hospital Center Burn Unit and underwent 39 reconstructive surgeries over four years of agonizing rehabilitation to regain his mobility. He was awarded the Purple Heart for the wounds he received that day.” -- Almost 25 years later, I met Brian at the Pentagon, not far from where he cheated death. That’s him, all the way on to my right, barely in the frame. The guy in the green tie with a big smile. We met in The Hall of Heroes, where I had just accepted a check for The mikeroweWORKS Foundation, on behalf of everyone at Build Freedom - including The Honorable Brian Birdwell. “My name is Brian Birdwell,” he said. “And I just wanted to say hello and thank you for all those dirty jobs! And for what you’re doing with your foundation. I think it’s terrific!” “Thanks,” I said. “I appreciate your support and I promise to spend the money wisely. Oh, and thank you for your service.” It was a rather assumptive thing to say, since I didn’t know at the time that Brian Birdwell had been a Lt. Colonel in the Army, much less what he’d endured 25 years ago. But there was something about his bearing. His posture. The flag on the lapel. The scars on his hands. He seemed like a man who understood sacrifice. “This is the greatest country in the world,” he said, “and it’s my privilege to serve it. Now keep on doing what you do, Mr. Rowe!" There were many other hands to shake that day, and lots of other people to meet, including the fine Americans standing with Brian, all of whom have stories worth sharing. But on this day, I’ll focus on Brian Birdwell. Partly because I really appreciate what Build Freedom is doing for our country, and partly because I really am grateful for the service and the sacrifice he made for you and me. But mostly, because 25 years after those murderous swine tried their best to kill him, Brian Birdwell is still standing. Still smiling. Still serving the country he loves. I realized all of this several minutes ago, after I boarded a United flight from LAX to San Francisco. As we waited on the tarmac, I saw a link in my newsfeed to the article I quoted above, and learned about the man who somehow survived the attack on the Pentagon 25 years ago. A man I last saw in The Hall of Heroes, wearing a green tie and a big smile. A man called Brian Birdwell, who didn’t bother to tell me about himself the day we met. Hopefully, he won’t mind too much if I tell you about him today, before wising all of you safe travels, in friendly skies.