NORMANDY, France — Fourteen years to the day after an explosion in an Afghan village took both of his legs and nearly his life, former 82nd Airborne Division paratrooper Jon Harmon is preparing to step into the door of a World War II‑era C‑47 over Normandy and jump again.
For Harmon, 32, the moment will mark more than a return to the sky. It will mark a return to himself.
“Normandy’s everything,” Harmon said. “That’s where our guys made their history, and to be able to jump in those drop zones in front of the men who actually dropped there is the greatest honor of my life.”
Harmon grew up in Cedarville, California, raised on stories of his grandfather’s service and inspired by the paratroopers of World War II.
“Band of Brothers came out, and then I learned who General Gavin was. I started reading books and researching. I thought, ‘This is incredible.’”
He enlisted in 2011, a couple months out of high school, as an airborne infantryman and arrived at Fort Bragg as a teenager with a beret still in the PX bag.
“I got immediately destroyed by one of the airborne females who picked me up because I didn’t have a beret yet,” he laughed. “The next day we were doing a 20K. It was everything I expected and more.”
On June 7, 2012, Harmon was a 19‑year‑old private first class on his first deployment with 4th Brigade Combat Team, 82nd Airborne Division, as part of Task Force Fury in Kandahar Province, Afghanistan. Harmon said the mission that day began as a routine patrol and key leader engagement with village elders about a mile and a half from their strongpoint.
Harmon was serving as a machine‑gun ammo bearer at the time. The platoon had been in a firefight in that exact location on a previous mission.
It was mid‑afternoon when the maneuver element began moving into the village. Harmon and his gunner set up the support‑by‑fire position. He gave his gunner sectors of fire, checked his angles, and stepped to the side of a low wall and berm where the machine gun was positioned.
“And that’s when I stepped on it,” says Harmon. The blast threw him into a cloud of dust and debris.
“It was a total brownout,” he said. “I kept trying to stand up. I didn’t understand why I couldn’t until I looked down and saw my (tibia and fibula) sticking out.”
His teammate, Pfc Brandon Goodine, positioned near him, stepped on a second device moments later.
As medics fought to save Harmon, Goodine, and multiple other casualties, a stretcher team carrying Goodine triggered a third pressure plate.
“They carried him right over me,” Harmon said. “And then the stretcher team stepped on another plate. It was… it was bad. It killed Brandon instantly,”
Harmon remained conscious throughout the evacuation, giving himself aide, applying his tourniquets. His unit had suffered 10 or 12 casualties during this mission. “It was like something out of Apocalypse Now. Just a pile of guys in the Black Hawk.”
“The last thing I remember was the American flag on the ceiling as they pushed me into the surgical unit,” he said. He woke up days later in Germany. He underwent surgeries in Afghanistan, Germany, and finally Walter Reed, where doctors amputated his left leg above the knee. His right leg was already gone.
At Walter Reed, Harmon found himself surrounded by Soldiers who had survived similar wounds, including his former squad leader, Staff Sgt. Travis Mills, a quadruple amputee who has since become a nationally recognized veterans’ advocate and founder of the Travis Mills Foundation.
“He came bopping into my ICU room on his little shorty prosthetics,” Harmon said. “Seeing him made it impossible to lose yourself.”
Another NCO, a double below‑knee amputee, showed Harmon what was possible.
“He lifted his pant leg and said, ‘It doesn’t end here.’ From that moment on, I wanted to be like him.”
Harmon not only recovered. He returned to active duty through the Army’s Continuation on Active-Duty program, becoming the first double above‑knee amputee to return to active orders in the 82nd Airborne Division.
“They actually gave me an MSM (Meritorious Service Medal) for that when I retired,” he said. “I was the first person to ever do it.”
He spent years at Walter Reed as the XVIII Airborne Corps liaison, helping wounded Soldiers and their families navigate the hardest days of their lives.
“It was the greatest job I ever had,” he said. “I got to inspire and motivate my paratroopers every day.”
Harmon eventually left the Army, after close to 8 years of service to continue his education.
Harmon believed his static-line parachuting days were over. That changed when Dominic Mancuso, a fellow combat infantryman and a "brother" from his time in service, called with an unexpected question: “Would you want to jump into Normandy?”
Ramon Alvarez, who served with Mancuso during a prior deployment to Afghanistan, was recruiting veteran paratroopers to take part in this commemorative event.
Alvarez, an active duty First Sergeant stationed at Fort Benning GA, is the co-founder and Executive Director of the WBS Charity Foundation, a 501C3 nonprofit organization that channels collective generosity toward small, community-based nonprofits serving veterans. The foundation, founded in 2020 and operating out of Columbus, Ga. focuses on strengthening groups that provide resources, support programs, and life improving opportunities for veterans and their families.
“Eight months ago, if someone said that was possible, I would’ve laughed them out of the building,” he said. “But once it became a possibility, it was mission mode. How do we do this? What prosthetics? What padding? And then it was off to the races.”
With the Liberty Jump Team, a Veteran led, all‑volunteer commemorative parachute organization based in Corsicana, Texas, that preserves airborne history by performing WWII‑style static‑line jumps at historic sites and memorial events, Harmon trained on short prosthetic legs, tested specialized feet, and relearned the mechanics of parachuting.
Harmon is believed to be the first double above‑knee amputee to complete a static‑line parachute jump. He has already completed three jumps, bringing his total to 10, and says he has no plans to stop.
When he stepped into the door of a C‑47 this past March for the first time since 2012, something clicked.
“I grabbed the door and thought, ‘This is so cool.’” he said. “When I landed and stood up, I just broke down crying. I couldn’t believe I walked away unscathed.”
His wife Carmen, an active-duty Soldier, encouraged Harmon to jump again.
“As soon as my wife saw how insanely happy it made me, she said, ‘Yeah, you need to do this.’ And after I came back from BAR (basic airborne refresher), she told me, ‘You need to keep doing this. I haven’t seen you this happy in years.’”
For Harmon, returning to jumping isn’t about proving something to himself. It’s about reminding others of who they are.
“If I can use what I’m doing to help my guys so they’re not hurting themselves, I’ll do that for the rest of my life,” he said. “I want young paratroopers to know you can go into battle, get hurt, and life is not over. You can keep doing incredible things.”
On June 7, Harmon will jump into La Fière at Sainte‑Mère‑Église, the same drop zone where paratroopers of the 508th Parachute Infantry Regiment and the 82nd Airborne fought on D‑Day.
It is also the anniversary of the day he was wounded.
“The fates always have an odd sense of irony in my life,” he said. “Jumping on my 14th alive day, into the drop zone my 508 guys jumped, it’s surreal.”
Harmon will carry with him Goodine’s necklace, lent to him by Goodine’s daughter for the jump. He will also carry some of his grandfather’s ashes and his original Army ID card. His grandfather, a Korean‑era infantryman, died recently.
“I’ll be jumping with all my guys,” Harmon said. “Every paratrooper who came before me.”
Harmon hopes his story reaches two distinct audiences: young paratroopers and fellow wounded warriors. To those currently serving, his message is a call to appreciate the unique nature of their mission.
“Stay airborne,” Harmon said. “It’s the greatest place on Earth.”
To his fellow wounded warriors, he offers a reminder of the identity that remains regardless of injury. “Life isn’t over. You can still do insane things,” he said. “You just need someone to remind you who you are.” Harmon is a paratrooper who refused to let the worst day of his life define the rest of it. As he looks back on his journey to the drop zone in Normandy, his thoughts return to the legacy of the 82nd Airborne Division and the predecessors who paved the way.
“I hope I’m making them proud,” he said. “General Gavin. The World War II guys. All of them.”