You're trained to reassure others, to respond versus react and to be prepared, 24 hours a day. No one prepares you to be dragged from the kill zone.

She'd arrived at Camp Stripe late the night before, after three weeks initiation in Kuwait.

“I was in the canteen looking for goggles for my fiancé, who was also in the service. He'd dropped his in the desert,” recalls 25-year old Vanessa Harris, of her first day in Baghdad.

“They were out of goggles, so I bought a Snickers Bar and a jazz CD and sat down to wait for my friends. Suddenly, the cashier knocked his chair over and yelled, ‘Get down! Everyone get down!' I grabbed my weapon, hit the ground and then there was a huge boom. I was flying backwards out of the gazebo. It sounded like a spaceship hovering overhead and there was this unbelievable pressure. I felt something dripping. I realized it was my head.”

She'd received shrapnel wounds to the skull. “Someone dragged me from the kill zone. He told me everything was going to be OK but I didn't believe him. I started to cry. I remember saying, ‘Why are they so mean? We're trying to help them!'”

On the ride to the hospital, she reassured the soldier with shrapnel in his knee, and urged him to stay awake; she first saw the crack in her skull on the hospital computer screen. She recalls pliers, sutures and a staple gun; the doctors removed the shrapnel, but the invisible wound remained.

It was May 31, 2005, Memorial Day weekend. She returned home with a Purple Heart and a slew of obvious complications from digestive issues, headaches and swelling, to more subtle side effects like nightmares, slowed thought patterns and memory loss.

“I still dream that human bodies are raining down, and they're always exploding. Then I wake up and see I'm in my own bed,” she shares. “My long-term memory is good, but short-term – not so great. I don't have a visible injury, so I feel like I constantly need to explain. And some people, they really don't want to know. I try, try, try really hard to appear normal. It takes so much energy.”

Vanessa is one of several wounded women warriors who came to Snowmass for Challenge Aspen's 1st Annual Women's Only C.A.M.O retreat earlier this month.

Challenge Aspen Military Opportunities has grown from two programs in 2005 to more than 18 week-long programs slated during 2009. Director of C.A.M.O, Sarah Williams Volf, cites the intensity and frequency of injuries as a major factor in C.A.M.O.'s expansion.

“There are over 400,000 women in active duty, and over 100,000 are in Iraq and Afghanistan. Through these new women-focused camps, we want to assess their growing needs, from education, to employment and policy concerns, and use this information to affect positive change,” she said.

During their Aspen/Snowmass retreat, Vince Gill and Amy Grant honored the women at a concert gala; Tuesday and Wednesday, an overnight rafting adventure through Westwater Canyon fostered new challenges and new friendships, while Thursday featured sun, sulfur and relaxation at the Glenwood Hot Springs.

“Ultimately, we want to be of service to these veterans,” continues Volf. “We learned a great deal from these women and hope they'll spread the good word to other wounded women in need.”

The payback

Back home in Georgia, it was Zaneta Adams, 32, who told her friend Vanessa about the C.A.M.O retreat. Zaneta is a fellow wounded warrior as well as a mother of five, which includes two sets of twins. She was training in Iraq, simulating combat in full regalia, when she fell off a truck - a not infrequent injury. Usually, the soldier breaks his neck, even dies; Zaneta sustained a spinal injury and returned to the U.S where she's now re-integrating and coping with chronic pain.

“It's been good to relax at the Hot Springs (Pool) because I've been hurting,” she shares, reflecting on some C.A.M.O. highlights. “The rapids were really fun but I think Monday - beauty day - was the best. L'Oreal donated makeup and jewelry, and we felt so honored at the gala!”

Vanessa, too, commended both the performers and C.A.M.O on truly acknowledging the veterans' service. “Gill and Grant are brilliant songwriters but more than that, I really felt their appreciation towards the troops. I felt Amy's heart, through her words; we hear thanks a lot, but C.A.M.O.'s really showed us thanks through actions.”

A desire to serve, to give back and to safeguard hard-earned American freedoms was never far from the conversation.

“As a black, born in 1956, I know that people risked their lives so that I could drink at the same water fountain as anyone else, so that you and I could be here having this conversation,” says La-Neeta Harris, 53, talking with the bi-racial group gathered around the grass at the Hot Springs Pool. She sustained injuries to her shoulder, and torso, during a War Games drill: “That day, we were using live fire and grenades.”

Home now, pursuing a Special Ed. degree, she reflects on her sacrifice. “Through my service, I've made a way for every student to contribute to society and to have a fulfilling life. I've worked to provide their freedoms.”

C.A.M.O. provided an opportunity for intense personal growth. “I have a fear of water,” La-Neeta confesses, “and while talking safety, our raft guide told us that self-rescue is the best rescue. I agree. I slipped getting into the river, but I grabbed onto the boat and steadied myself; I knew I had support but I helped myself first. C.A.M.O. really ignited my passion to become physically active again, to overcome obstacles and to find the courage to push myself as far as I can go. By the end of the trip, I was out in the front of the boat, paddling and loving it!”

While vision loss, burns and amputations are the three main injuries of war, Leslie Smith, 40, suffered a much deadlier setback while deployed. In 2001, she was in Bosnia on a peacekeeping mission, handling public relations and planning itineraries for high-ranking officials. “I worked right next to the general, and was the first line of interface. I loved it,” she says. “And the Bosnians were so grateful that we were there, helping them rebuild and keeping the peace. Some of them even worked on base. It made it really hard to leave; in fact, I had just signed up for another tour. “

Seemingly overnight, she developed a rare blood clot and was diagnosed with a Factor 5 blood disorder. “I started to bleed internally, my organs started shutting down and they put me on imminent death status. I was given 24 hours to live,” she recollects, pausing to gather her thoughts. “My family flew over and started to make funeral arrangements. Then the doctors tried one more thing, a different kind of medicine. I lost my left leg, my right leg is disfigured and numb and I lost complete vision in my left eye - but they saved my life.”

For Leslie, C.A.M.O was a much-needed opportunity to spend time with other wounded women. “It's very therapeutic, just to talk. This has been a safe haven, to say what I really feel. For men, scars and wounds are kind of macho but for a woman to have an injury that doesn't look good…it's tough. I'm proud of my wounds because they're survival wounds, and I'm grateful to have a second chance to be alive; that's the soldier part of me. But the woman part of me still struggles.”

She continues: “I felt like I was in the prime of my life - trained, strong, and then…the whole world was pulled from me. Talking to these women, especially on the van ride home from rafting, gave me that ‘I'm not alone' feeling. I know that someone else can understand what I'm going through, at some level. Some of us have even had the same pain issue. I can say, ‘Oh, I've tried that type of foot. This one's better!'” She smiles, then laughs, pointing to her prosthetic.

She now works in military-related PR, near D.C., and through speaking engagements continues to motivate both wounded warriors and civilians alike.

“Sometimes, people don't want to hear it; they're afraid of people with scarring from shrapnel, and no limbs. Then, after I speak, they come up to me and say that they've been avoiding going to the gym but after hearing my story and seeing what I've overcome, they're motivated to make a change. If I can mentally touch one person, that's part of the pay back,” she shares. “C.A.M.O. has pushed my limits to keep going even more. I am woman, I am soldier, I am beautiful; I'm going to take these feelings back home. And now, I have a mini-network of support to take with me.”

For more info on C.A.M.O. and to share the program with those in need, visit challengesapen.org, (970) 923-0578.