- Inspired by her father and mother, both United States Marines, Kirstie Ennis enlisted at age 17 and deployed to Afghanistan in 2011.

Here to share her story is award-winning screen, television, and stage actor, Jenna Malone.

(soft music) (audience applauding) - In my eyes, my parents were superheroes.

They woke up every single day to do something for the greater good.

And I wanted to give them a reason to be proud of me the same way that I was proud of them.

In third grade, my Barbies wore dress blues and my baby dolls wore camouflage.

So I don't think it was much of a surprise when I said, "It's my time now."

I joined the Marines and became an aerial door gunner.

It's a combat position.

You're behind a .50-caliber gun.

You're the eyes and ears of the pilot looking for enemy fire, helping them land, getting your guys home safely.

My job was to support the heroes on the ground.

Whether it's the innocent people you're trying to help or the brothers and sisters you'd willingly lay your life down for, there's always a personal connection.

The day of the crash, June 23rd, 2012, everything was off.

It should have been a routine extraction of Marines from a forward operating base.

Normally, we wouldn't go out in broad daylight.

Your easy to spot, but you do what you're told.

I was on left-door gun when we flew into a sandstorm.

The pilot couldn't see anything.

It was complete chaos.

The nose started going down and I saw the ground come rushing towards us.

And instead of freaking out, I counted like it was a normal landing.

3, 2, 1, and then we crashed hard.

When my .50-cal hit the dirt, it slammed back into my face.

I tried to scream, but all my tongue could feel was broken teeth and a shattered jaw.

You could put a whole fist through the wound.

I tried to pull myself up, but my legs collapsed underneath me.

An airman bent down and said, "Don't close your eyes because you won't open them again."

I just stared at an overhead light in the cabin and told myself, "I'm not gonna die without seeing my little sister again."

And then everything went black.

The next thing I remember is seeing my sergeant major and my gunnery sergeant crying over me in this makeshift hospital.

I knew right then that I wasn't gonna finish out that deployment with my guys.

I endured 46 surgeries: leg, spine, both arms.

An amazing female doctor managed to reconstruct my face, but nobody could fix my leg.

Being an amputee is like being a toddler all over again.

You have to learn to balance before you can walk or run.

For almost two years, I worked to get better, to get back to my guys.

It was so incredibly hard.

And it wasn't just the scars on my body.

I had scars on my heart.

These invisible injuries.

Losing my leg was nothing compared to what I went through when I lost my purpose.

I suffered with a lot of demons, but I never talked about them.

On my Alive Day, what veterans call the anniversary of the day that they were injured, I didn't see the point of trying to heal anymore.

I just wanted a way out.

So I threw myself into a river.

But I didn't disappear the way I'd wanted.

Somebody found me and brought me to the hospital.

When my dad came to see me, he said, "You know, the enemy couldn't kill you, and now you're doing it for them.

You gotta be kidding me."

To see him come to me and cry, someone who is a combat veteran, it reminded me of all those who lost loved ones and were hurting.

I was lucky.

I came home broken, but I came home.

I learned that it's not weak to be vulnerable, and it's not weak to reach out.

So at that moment, I recommitted 100% to my recovery.

My military career was over.

And what was I left to do?

To be honest, a total stranger gave me hope.

They walked into my hospital room and asked if I wanted to learn to snowboard.

A movement as medicine.

Four months after another surgery, I climbed Mount Kilimanjaro.

Since then, I've climbed six of the seven summits, the highest peaks on each continent.

I host recreational therapy clinics where people can share and heal together.

A total stranger believed in me, so now I pay that forward.

Maybe I'm no longer active duty, but I can still serve my veterans in other ways.

Wherever I go, I carry symbolic dog tags and leave them behind in hopes that someone will discover those names and take a moment to appreciate what they sacrificed.

On Memorial Day, the biggest honor we can give our fallen soldiers, whether we lost them overseas or as they battled their own demons back home, is to share their names and tell their stories.

They stepped up to put their lives on the line for the rest of us, and they did not die in vain.

I am here because of them.

I am here living, breathing, and walking for them.

I can never quit.

I can never give up.

And I'm carrying their memory with me.

(soft music) (audience applauding)