Former Navy SEAL Bo Reichenbach credits hockey with saving him more than once.
From behind his goalie mask, Landon Reichenbach listens attentively to his father and coach, Bo. They work on drills – skating side to side, handling the stick, reading the offensive players. Their mutual love for the sport is an unbreakable bond.
For Landon, hockey represents the dreams of what may come. “The NHL,” the 9-year-old says with a smile, referring to the top professional league in North America.
But for his dad, hockey is a lifeline – a sport that has saved him more than once.
In fact, it was Bo’s love for Landon and his passion for hockey that inspired the former Navy SEAL during rehab after losing both legs when he stepped on an IED in Afghanistan on July 17, 2012.
‘LAST MAN STANDING’ Hockey has been a part of Bo’s life since age 4. A doctor recommended the sport as a way for “the wild young kid” to harness his ADHD. Growing up in Billings, Mont., Bo played year-round, often spending stretches of time in Canada in competitive leagues. His fondest memories include winning state championships and playing on travel teams.
“One travel team actually went down to Colorado and did surprisingly well,” he recalls. “I had two, maybe three, shutouts in a row, which hadn’t been done before. That helped us get very far and was probably the highlight of my younger years of playing hockey.”
Hockey’s combination of action and camaraderie made it an ideal fit.
“Hockey’s a very physical sport,” says Bo, who has played on the U.S. Paralympic team. “Lots of action, and obviously the team aspect of it. I’ve been part of teams my whole life, and it gives you a chance to push each other and create a brotherhood and learn things together and move on throughout life with all those lessons.”
As a goalie, Bo saw his role as “protecting the home for the team. I’ve always had that passion, to be that last man standing for the team to try to be a part of it.”
The hockey culture kept Bo focused. But eventually his off-ice transgressions ejected him from the sport he loved.
“When I got in trouble when I was younger, it actually took some hockey opportunities away from me, and that was obviously a huge lesson in my life,” he says. “At that point, I kind of thought hockey was done for me. That was pretty heartbreaking because I loved it, and I knew I was good at it. I didn’t get back on the ice until after I joined the Navy and got on the SEAL teams.”
‘SO, THIS IS IT’ When Bo found trouble, he wound up in his first military-like experience. He enrolled in the Montana Youth Challenge Program, run by the National Guard. It’s a structured military-style academy that helps at-risk youth develop skills to become productive adults.
A year after leaving the academy, Bo learned he would become a father.
“That motivated me to want to do something more and to push myself,” says Bo, who began researching all the military branches. “I thought, ‘If I’m going to do this, I want to push myself. I want to do the hardest thing possible.’”
After SEAL training, Bo’s unit arrived in Afghanistan in early January 2012.
“Bo was an exceptional warrior,” says Chris Serle, who met Bo in training and later deployed with him. “He was really humble and quite calm and didn’t really let anyone get to him. In Afghanistan, I never really saw him show fear.”
Instead, Bo showed resilience and initiative. Serle says Bo taught himself how to use a mortar. “He started carrying a mortar tube with him everywhere he went as a secondary weapon,” Serle recalls. “It definitely saved lives on the battlefield. That was all him. No one told him to do it, no one taught him to do it, he just went out and practiced and became an expert, which is pretty impressive.”
After about two months of relative calm, the action intensified for months. The morning of July 17 was “a really quiet day.” Bo, Serle and two others went out to prevent enemy soldiers from launching an ambush. “Nothing was going on, which was very weird for the area we were in,” Bo remembers.
An IED not only broke the silence but changed their lives forever.
“I was carrying a machine gun, loaded down with quite a bit of weight, and stepped on the IED and immediately lost my left leg,” he says. “All the frag hit my right leg and right arm, and also hit one of my best friends (Serle) in the face.
“I was in a daze, not really sure what was going on. I went to grab my tourniquet, and was trying to put it on my left leg, but it was gone.”
Struggling to use his wounded arms, Bo thought, “So, this is it.” Suddenly, a medic jumped in to apply tourniquets and an IV. Bo and Serle each yelled for the medics to attend to the other one first.
Serle suffered severe wounds to his face and lost his left eye. “I remember him saying, ‘I love you, bro. We’re going to get through this.’ It’s that toughness Bo showed in the worst moment of his life that says a lot about him.”
As the pain began to set in, Bo focused on his family. “I really kept thinking, ‘I got to get home to my family. I got to fight to get home to my son. I got to see him one more time.’ He’s obviously been a huge motivator for my whole life and his whole life. Going through SEAL training, I always told myself, ‘I’m going to tell my son, never quit something.’”
Bo and Landon chatted on video several times during the recovery. About three months after the explosion, they reunited in person.
“He just ran into my arms and gave me the biggest hug, and he’s been by my side ever since,” he says.
A STRONG FAMILY It was close to 10 a.m. in Montana on July 17, 2012, when Bo’s father, Don Reichenbach, received a call from a satellite phone via Hawaii. “Hey buddy, what’s going on?” he asked, thinking it was Bo.
“I heard another gentleman say, ‘No, sir. This is his CO, Commander Hayes,’” Don recalls. “Right at that moment my heart sank. He assured me my son was still alive (but) badly injured and kind of helped me through it.”
The Reichenbachs met their son at Walter Reed National Military Medical Center, five days after the explosion. He was groggy from the surgeries and long flight but in good spirits.
“It’s your son, you knew what kind of an athlete, what kind of young man he was, and what’s going through your head is, ‘What will he be able to do after this?’” Don says. “We’re a pretty strong and creative family. So I knew we could get through it, once we got through the hospital part, and we were going to figure out how to do a lot of things.”
NEW KIND OF HOCKEY Once again, hockey came to the rescue. While at Walter Reed, the family learned about sled hockey and how it’s used to help rehab wounded veterans.
“As a hockey family all our lives, we never really even looked into sled hockey,” says Don, who coached Bo and his brother, Ty, a professional goalie. “It wasn’t a real big sport at the time. But we thought it could be interesting. One Wednesday evening we went down to the ice rink and gave it a try. It was actually good for both of us. I was able to be down on the ice, seeing these guys, with whatever limbs they had, out there competing again. That was actually great to see.”
Bo moved through rehab quickly. Three months after the explosion, he was on the ice stopping shots from players of the National Hockey League’s Washington Capitals. Fourteen months after being wounded, Bo was among veterans in the inaugural Never Quit Challenge, a 1,600-mile personal watercraft ride, starting in Key West, Fla., and arriving in New York City on Sept. 11.
“Rehab went very quick for me,” Bo says. “I was pushing; I’ve always been a quick healer with a lot of things, and my therapist was always trying to hold me back just a little bit – not to push it too hard and too far too quick.”
Still, the invisible wounds of war posed challenges.
“When it comes to PTSD and depression, everyone has it,” he says. “Everyone has bad days. I can admit that I have bad days. Not everything’s pretty. Life’s not easy. It’s not perfect. I have to wake up to put my legs on or whatever, or hop into my chair to go to the bathroom. You can’t put it all on yourself. A lot of veterans put pressure on themselves because they’re not performing the way they used to or what they know that their potential could be.”
As part of his rehab, Bo relays his experiences to hockey teams, including ones for which Ty has played.
“Hockey has had a huge part in me being a SEAL and through my recovery and everything,” Bo says. “I really found it easy to talk to hockey players about the SEAL teams because it’s a brotherhood, and we hold each other accountable. You tell each other if something’s wrong; you fix it. We work hard, we push each other every day. You just have a brotherhood, you know you’re traveling everywhere, eat, sleep and do everything together as a team.”
Just like the team dynamic of youth hockey and the brotherhood of SEALs, Bo needed – and found – camaraderie when he returned home.
SUPPORT NETWORK When George Blackard heard of Bo’s injuries, he jumped into action. Then commander of American Legion Post 117 in Billings, Blackard set in motion a one-day concert/barbecue that raised about $15,000 for the family.
“Going through the recovery with him was a challenge, of course,” says Lacy, Bo’s wife. “I just wanted to be as supportive as I could be, and I knew that he needed support from his family and friends. The Legion and the people there are very community-involved and were willing to do whatever it took to help our family.”
Bo quietly started giving back to the post. He would visit Blackard every so often and drop off a few completed membership applications.
“He just took it upon himself to be a recruiter,” Blackard says. “He recruited quality people – people who have gotten very involved in the post, taken up committee chair positions. He just became a recruiter that everybody wants and we didn’t even ask him for that.”
In addition to his recruiting prowess, Bo recommends ideas for improvements at the post. For example, he suggested changes to the post’s annual Warrior Run fundraiser. Previously, most participants left soon after finishing.
“Now they’re hanging out, they’re staying, visiting with the veterans, making it more of an all-day thing than just a few hours,” Blackard says. “That was a big idea because that gives us opportunities to talk about the Legion and to raise more money.”
For Bo, it’s his way of giving back.
“The post and specifically George have been there for me and my family since the beginning,” Bo says. “That obviously means the world to me to know that people have my back. I continue to help out when I can to give back to the post and to our community.”
BACK TO THE RINK While getting re-settled in Billings, Bo’s stubbornness blocked him from returning to the ice. But in time, the smell of the ice, the brotherhood of the locker room and the shared passion with Landon lured him back.
“Once again, I was thinking that hockey was out of my life forever,” Bo says. “But one of the best feelings I ever had was being able to skate with my boy. I found hockey again and continue to play hockey.”
Whether he is coaching Landon and other youths at a summer camp or representing Team USA on the national Paralympic team, hockey provides that needed spark.
“I need to be doing something where people depend on me to show up in the morning or do something and that’s why I have hockey now,” he says. “I have played for Team USA these last few years. It’s been awesome. It’s given me something to push for. Those guys depend on me.”
So does Landon. Full of energy, Landon enjoyed having his dad as one of his coaches during last summer’s weeklong camp at Centennial Ice Rink in Billings. It’s the same rink where Bo’s love of hockey blossomed – at essentially the same age Landon is now.
“I saw my dad play and I thought it would be pretty fun,” Landon says. “I started to like it, and I wanted to play.”
On the ice, Bo easily dispatches advice to the skaters. “When your team wins, you win, too!” he calls out during a skills competition.
During a break between sessions, Bo acknowledges a compliment about Landon’s performance but clarifies the current priority. “He’s having fun,” he says of his boy.
Bo navigates his sled toward the locker room as a Zamboni cleans the ice for the next group. Landon and friends cool off, hydrate and enjoy a snack. Life is good for the Reichenbachs, sharing quality time on the ice.
“It’s awesome,” Bo says. “I love being out here with the kids.”
Henry Howard is deputy director of media and communications for The American Legion.
- Magazine