How a Double Amputee Marine Trains for Everyday Life

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When Johnny 'Joey' Jones was just 24 years old, he was a Marine bomb technician in Iraq, spending his days clearing streets and buildings of deadly threats. After five intense days and the discovery of more than 30 bombs, one wrong step changed everything. An explosion beneath him threw him backward, taking both of his legs and severing part of his right arm. That same day, his close friend, Corporal Daniel Greer, who was surveying the area alongside him, suffered a fatal traumatic brain injury and never made it home.
The years following his injury were a relentless journey of reclaiming lost abilities—standing, walking, riding motorcycles, and even shooting a shotgun. Every new milestone was a hard-won victory, a testament to his unbreakable spirit.
Now, nearly 15 years later, Joey Jones lives a life that his younger self could never have imagined. He's a devoted husband and father, a Fox News contributor, and the author of two books—his latest, Behind the Badge, recently landed in the top spot on The New York Times bestsellers list.
While his first book focused on his military experiences and those of his fellow service members, his second book looks at the first responders saving lives right in their hometowns. Unlike a lot of retired veterans who have distance from the battlefield, the men and women in Behind the Badge face the difficult reality of processing trauma while returning to the very streets where it happened day in and day out.
According to Jones, it's easier to endure the hardship of deployment overseas, away from the life you know, than to be at home and feel like you're at war while surrounded by the everyday comforts of family. For many first responders, the challenge lies in confronting the 'terrible things' they've seen and experienced, all while holding tight to the people they love most.
'As I realized, it is easier to check out for six months or eight months or 10 months overseas and be in a completely different environment that is not germane to anything you think to be normal, away from your family. It is much harder to do that in your hometown, to feel like you're at war…and come home and hug your kids and your wife or your husband.'That's a different kind of strength entirely—one Jones has come to understand through experience. When he first joined the Marines, he saw strength as something purely physical, tied to endurance, grit, and muscle. Back then, the mentality was simple: suck it up, buttercup. But after losing his legs and, later, reflecting deeply while writing his second book, his perspective shifted. Strength, he's realized, has far more to do with what the mind and spirit can endure than what the body can carry.
"I used to say that anybody can be brave for a moment...you can get pumped up on adrenaline...you see stupid people jump off the side of cruise ships," he says. "That's kind of brave. But courage is knowing the consequences, not wanting those consequences, but choosing to do it anyway because it needs to be done. And so for me, that's the ultimate strength."
People who experience trauma and hardship all share one truth: Real strength doesn't come from being untouched by pain, but from living through it and finding purpose on the other side. For Jones, that meant embracing the scars (literally and physically) that became his proof of survival and reminders of resilience.
"I mean, once you've been through something that you didn't know you could get through, you have to build some sort of security about your ability to get through [hard] things," Jones says. "And I think that you can train your mind emotionally as much as you can train your body physically."
For Jones, mental strength is deeply connected to what he's been able to accomplish physically since losing his legs. In rehab, he quickly gained a reputation—not for sticking to the standard recovery protocol, but for grabbing dumbbells and cranking out front raises and shoulder presses.
"So there's that side of it, that kind of mental side," he said. "On the other side, the more physically fit I am, the better I can maneuver my prosthetic legs, the more independent I am, and the less I have to ask other people to do things for me. And that means a lot to me. That means a whole lot to me."
In the beginning, he wasn't just healing, he was rebuilding. That effort, he says, was a crucial step in reclaiming a sense of control and reminding himself that while he couldn't do everything, there was still plenty he could do.
Going to the gym and working out, and being able to reclaim certain movements "played a huge role in my recovery," he says. "To this day, it plays a big role in my ability to be a guy that's a double-above-the-knee amputee and with an arm that's kind of goofy, and travel the country almost weekly by myself. And so, whenever it sucks and it hurts and my leg bleeds and stuff like that, there's a smile on the inside because yeah, I can still do it."That physical discipline isn't just about looking or feeling strong either—it's about being ready. For Jones, the gym is preparation for real life, not just for aesthetics (although that's part of it, he admits).
Whether it's putting his legs on every morning, skeet shooting on his farm with fellow veterans, supporting his kids and wife, or simply navigating daily tasks with independence, training gives him the capability—and confidence—to keep showing up. Strength, in Jones' world, isn't theoretical; it's practical. It's the fuel he uses to carry the weight of his responsibilities and the anchor that keeps him grounded.
"Those responsibilities can wear you down and feel like burdens, or they can be the reminder of how awesome life is," he says. "I mean, when you think about a responsibility, like I'm a dad to my kids—nobody else in the world do they look to other than me to be Dad. Why wouldn't I be just excited about that? That's reassurance of my purpose in life."
How a Double Amputee Marine Trains for Everyday Life first appeared on Men's Journal on Jul 4, 2025