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Today, on Veterans Day, there's an N.C. A&T grad in Michigan smiling too much.

Melvin Kearney walks the halls of the Ann Arbor VA Medical Center, working with wounded soldiers from Iraq. He talks to them, cajoles them and reminds them about the motto for the Army Wounded Warrior Program: As long as it takes.

And as he helps them piece their lives back together, Kearney tells them about his hometown of Tarboro and the A&T degree on his office wall. Then, when he sees a soldier's face buckle with emotion, he tells them this:

"Thank you for what you've done. I was there. I understand.''

He was. Kearney spent two combat tours in Iraq. And he's only 26.

Three years ago, he slogged around in 130-degree heat, wearing 85-pound body armor, as he protected the military brass and transported Iraqi detainees throughout Iraq.

Last year, a week after graduation, he went back. He trained Iraqi police officers and befriended a gaggle of Iraqi kids who played in the street. He passed out candy, books, soap, pencils, pens, T-shirts, hats, toothbrushes, toothpaste and body wash.

He even taught them the A&T cheer. Right there. In downtown Baghdad.

As Kearney worried about snipers around every corner and roadside bombs in any ditch, he huddled the street kids together and had them yelling, "Aggie Pride!'' like it was homecoming on the other side of the world.

He even taught a surly 11-year-old who told Kearney that first day: "I hate America. You guys are the devil.''

Every day for a year, Kearney trained Iraqi police officers.

He used some of the same community-policing methods he learned in his criminal justice classes back in Greensboro.

And every day for a year, he worked with those street kids. He taught them how to read and understand English. He taught them how to enunciate five times - North Carolina Agricultural and Technical University - before they got some kind of gift.

But mostly, he talked to them.

One day, on patrol, he was standing beside an armored vehicle outside the Iraqi police station when one of his street kids ran up and tugged him on his shirt to get his attention.

"Kearney, keep going straight!'' the kid told him. "Don't turn! Keep going straight!''

He did. Moments later, Kearney heard "Boom.''

"Those kids saved my life, man,'' Kearney said the other day.

A few weeks back, Kearney told some of those stories. He drove from Tarboro to help student actors from A&T and UNCG capture their warrior within for the production, "A Soldier's Play.''

Inside A&T's Paul Robeson Theatre, Kearney worked with them on their salute and their march. He showed them how to keep their posture ramrod straight.

He talked in rapid-sentence bursts about his tours, his men, his street kids, and his decoration right beside his bunk - a blue and gold A&T T-shirt. And he always smiled.

Now, he's in Michigan. He started a new job as an advocate in the Army Wounded Warrior Program, and as he smiles walking the halls, he rolls out some of those same stories.

The soldiers, bodies broken from the war, can relate.

They hear about Kearney's prepatrol ritual. He kept a pamphlet of Psalm 91 in his left-lower pocket, with a camouflage bandanna. And every time he left base, Kearney plastered the bandanna over his forehead and prayed.

"Keep the Angel of Protection wrapped around us,'' he said to himself.

They also hear about the surly 11-year-old who, by the last day of Kearney's tour, was surly no more. Those simple moments in the street - of teaching English, playing soccer and yelling, "Aggie Pride!'' - made a difference.

"You know, somebody taught me wrong,'' the 11-year-old told Kearney. "I want to come to America."

Contact Jeri Rowe at 373-7374 or jeri.rowe@news-record.com