adam Harden

Sept. 2025 Peacekeeper Initiative Hero of the Month

By Rich Alvarez

A Soldier’s Story of Survival, Service, and Strength

Some stories don’t need polish. They need to be told exactly how they happened — raw, unfiltered, and real. This month, the Peacekeeper Initiative is proud to honor a veteran whose path through service, trauma, and healing is a reminder that being a hero isn’t about being fearless — it’s about carrying on when fear, pain, and darkness won’t let up.

“I Always Felt the Need to Serve”

Before he even finished high school, Adam Harden had already signed up for the Army’s Delayed Entry Program. A month after graduation, he shipped off to Basic Training. Why? Simple.“Growing up, I always wanted to either be a soldier or a cop. I always felt the need to serve.”

He ended up serving over nine years in the Army — a journey that shaped him in ways he never expected.

“I Took a Deep Dive Into Alcohol”

He didn’t leave the Army by choice. It was personal. While deployed in Iraq, his wife left him — not just for anyone, but for one of his teammates. She took their two daughters and moved back to Florida. He returned to an empty bed, a fish tank, and his bass guitars.

The emotional wreckage was overwhelming. He turned to alcohol — a bottle of 151 every couple of days and over two packs of cigarettes a day. He deployed often, and when he was home, he drank to the bottom of the bottle.“There is nothing scarier to the enemy than a soldier, on a .50 cal, with absolutely nothing else to lose,” he says. “Fearless or stupid? You decide.”

He left the Army hoping that maybe, just maybe, getting out would bring his wife back. “Boy, was I wrong.”

War Stories — And Not the Hollywood Kind

There are stories that stay burned into memory forever. One came during a mission to link up with Marines at the Haditha Dam in Iraq. Four HMMWVs flying at 50mph in the dark — and a single shot cracked past his right ear. Friendly fire. A lieutenant “trying to prove he could be SF” accidentally discharged his weapon. Nobody was hit, but the moment never left him.

Then there was the night of Super Bowl Sunday, 2005 — a blur of alcohol, Red Bull, and ambien, leading to a blackout, multiple chow hall ejections, tackling strangers during a game of orange football, and flipping a Hilux three times after being run off the road. They landed on all four wheels, shook it off, and drove back like nothing happened.

And if memory serves, February 2005 brought another firefight that would be impossible to forget. Harden was the communications expert attached to a Special Forces ODA, and also the .50 cal gunner on HMMWV number one. This was before armored turrets, and in a small, hostile town, the convoy rolled straight into chaos. An upside-down Marine HMMWV came into view, and Harden’s team pulled security so the Marines could recover. From there, tracer rounds lit up the night like a meteor shower. Harden scanned through his PAS-13 infrared scope, waiting for a clear target.

While his team stormed the objective, he and the other .50 gunners secured the perimeter under heavy fire. In one ear he listened to his teammates on comms; in the other, an AC-130 overhead. The gunship spotted two armed men crouching with tube-like objects a hundred yards away. Permission was given to fire, and Harden ducked just before the 40mm rounds rained down, neutralizing the threat.

The fight wasn’t over. Racing back through the desert, one HMMWV’s driveshaft dropped out. Trucks one, two, and four pulled security as Harden’s close friend Russ — a mechanic and fellow gunner — scrambled to fix it under the rising sun. With no more cover from the gunship, every passing vehicle was a potential bomb. Somehow, Russ patched it up and the convoy made it home. Harden kept the brass casing from the first round he ever fired in combat — a memento of survival, luck, and brotherhood.

Between that and several other firefights, he was awarded the Combat Action Badge. “Later on they were handing those out like candy,” he says, “but back then, it meant something.”

“We Caught Him in a Lie — He Pissed Himself”

His most heroic moment didn’t come in a firefight, but in a quiet, calculated op. Mortar attacks were targeting their base every time supply trucks rolled in. Intel revealed some truck drivers were smuggling in phones and directing enemy fire. He was tasked with running a covert op to find and stop them.

In civilian clothes, with a small team and support from MPs, he went through the lot. One driver cracked under pressure and wet himself when caught. By the end of the day, they had detained 33 suspects and shut down a dangerous threat. He was recommended for a Bronze Star with Valor.

“I Made It Home. In One Piece. But My Brain’s Scrambled”

Years later, the damage wasn’t visible — but it was real. Multiple traumatic brain injuries. PTSD. A mini-stroke at 35. A 100% Permanent and Total disability rating.

Still, he struggles with whether he deserves it. “I made it home, and in one piece, with no missing pieces. A scrambled brain, a sleeping disorder, alcoholism, and bouts of rage… but at least I’m here, right?”He adds, with brutal honesty: “I’m heavily medicated — for your pleasure.”

Healing Didn’t Come from the VA — It Came from Love and Brotherhood

He tried everything. Alcohol. Pills. Therapy. PTSD clinics. Nothing stuck. But in 2014, he met someone who changed everything — a woman who “shook me to my core.” After what happened with his ex-wife, he’d sworn off long-term “relationshits” (his word). But this woman made him want to get better.

That support system changed everything. He was nearly homeless, couch-surfing, until his sister took him in. Now? He’s married, owns two homes, trucks, a motorcycle, and an RV.

And he found a veteran group — Florida4Warriors — that he says saved his life twice. “Thank you, Tamara, AJ, Patti and crew. I love you.”

“Don’t Be a Dick. Be a Good Dude.”

These days, he’s thriving. He owns his own company and travels often. When asked what advice he’d give someone just entering military or first responder life, he keeps it simple:

“TRY. Whatever you do, keep trying. Stay the course. Above all, be a good person. It’s really that simple. Don’t be a dick. Be a good dude.”

Final Words

When asked if he had anything else to say, his answer was short:“Lots.”

He’s said enough for now — and what he’s shared is a reminder that behind the uniforms are stories of heartbreak, struggle, mistakes, and redemption. That even when someone breaks, they can rebuild. That heroism isn’t about medals — it’s about surviving when you didn’t think you could, and showing others it’s possible too.

Thank you for your service. And thank you for your honesty.