Van of Valor

Lauren Wallace
Van of Valor

ROSWELL, N.M. – The bond between retired Tech. Sgt. Chris Ferrell and retired Senior Master Sgt. (Dr.) Kevin Wallace wasn’t forged in a standard-issue barracks or a stateside training exercise. 

It was built on a foundation of shared trauma, mutual respect, and a hard-won understanding that the toughest battles often begin after the guns fall silent. 

Their story is one of two warriors, a decade-long friendship, and a shared mission that outlasted their time on the battlefield.

Ferrell’s life was irrevocably shaped by a mid-December night in 2009 in Afghanistan. 

As an Explosive Ordnance Disposal (EOD) technician, he was no stranger to danger, but this mission was different. During a high-stakes operation with British Special Forces, a close teammate, Tony, stepped on an IED. 

The explosion rocked the area, covering Ferrell in dust and blood. He would later recall finding Tony in the blast hole, hearing his final exhale. 

“That night pierced me so deeply I can never forget a single detail,” Ferrell would share years later, his voice a steady instrument recounting the unsteady past.

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The physical toll was severe—traumatic brain injuries, nerve damage, fractured vertebrae—but the mental scars ran deeper. 

He compartmentalized the grief, burying it to finish the mission. 

“We never took care of ourselves like we should have,” Ferrell admitted. “We knew better, we didn’t care; the mission had to get done.” 

After being medically retired in 2017, the weight of witnessing the deaths of 26 friends and teammates became overwhelming. 

He struggled with his identity, faced multiple suicide attempts, and felt like a shell of the man he once was. It was a long, dark journey through therapy and self-discovery that led him to a new purpose: advocacy. 

“If I was going through this,” he asked himself, “who else is going through this?”

It was on this new battlefield—the circuit of veteran advocacy and the arena of the Department of Defense Warrior Games—that his path converged with Wallace.

Kevin Wallace was a fellow Airman, a Purple Heart recipient whose courage under fire had also earned him a Bronze Star with Valor in Afghanistan. 

Like Ferrell, he understood the kinetic reality of war and the silent, lingering aftermath. Their shared status as Purple Heart recipients and elite performers under pressure created an immediate, unspoken understanding. 

They met in 2014, two men who had seen the worst of humanity but were striving for the best in themselves and each other.

Their friendship solidified on the speaking circuit, where they shared stages and stories, and at the lead up to the Warrior Games, where they traded the pressure of combat for the pressure of competition. 

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Being Air Force Wounded Warrior program ambassadors and spokesmen, combined with the athletic portions of the Warrior Games, became a new kind of mission—a proving ground not for war, but for recovery. 

Here, the same discipline that once drove Ferrell to be fit enough to run a half-mile under fire to save his teammates was channeled into training for athletic events. 

He even developed his own “Century Workout,” a grueling regimen of 100 reps per exercise, a testament to the endurance that had literally saved his life. Doctors had told him his muscle mass and bone density had protected him from worse injury; now, that same fitness was a catalyst for his mental recovery.

While Ferrell found his calling in public advocacy and training, Wallace continued his service in a different capacity. 

Even as a civilian, Wallace remained connected to the world of high-stakes performance, albeit of a different kind. A 2011 Mercedes-Benz Sprinter van, with over 311,000 miles on the odometer, served as a testament to his own relentless drive—a vehicle that had carried him through countless miles, just as his body and spirit had carried him through his own trials.

Their bond is a powerful example of post-traumatic growth. Ferrell, who once said, “Advocacy is a necessity. That is what gives me purpose now,” found a brother in Wallace who understood that purpose without needing it explained. 

They had both stared into the abyss; Ferrell through the blast hole of an IED and the darkness of depression, and Wallace through IED and RPG holes, and the valor-required moments in combat. They emerged not just as survivors, but as guides.

Today, when Chris Ferrell stands before a room of Airmen at places like Edwards Air Force Base, his message is clear: personal resilience requires the same attention and maintenance as any other weapon system. 

And in his friend, Kevin Wallace, he has a lifelong battle buddy who helped him clean, maintain, and re-arm his own best weapon—his spirit. 

Together, they represent a powerful truth: that the strongest alliances are not always formed in the heat of battle, but in the steadfast commitment to help each other heal long after the fighting is done. 
To read more, visit www.HelpVoV.com

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“Advocacy is a necessity. That is what gives me purpose now.” – Tech. Sgt. Chris Ferrell 🎤

This is more than a story of service. It’s a story of survival and a bond that refused to break. 💥

After a traumatic event in Afghanistan, Chris Ferrell faced his darkest days, carrying the weight of his fallen brothers. But he found a new mission and a battle buddy in fellow Purple Heart recipient, Dr. Kevin Wallace. 🤝

Together, they channeled their warrior spirit into the @DoDWarriorGames and advocacy, proving that our toughest battles often begin after the guns fall silent. Their friendship is a powerful example of turning pain into purpose. ✨

Their unbreakable bond was forged in fire and tempered in resilience.

#UnbreakableBond #ForgedInFire #Resilience #Veteran #WarriorSpirit #MentalHealth #BrothersInArms #Purpose #VanOfValor