- October 24, 2024
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Jonathan Nemergut, with his buzz cut and underbite smile, thought he was doing OK at his job as a senior accounting clerk at the Volusia County Branch Jail. But one day in 2012, his supervisor asked to meet with him.
She pointed out that Nemergut had a hard time remembering tasks that were required for the job. He was always nervously taking notes about simple things. Then, without saying it directly, the supervisor seemed to be fishing for a confession; she suspected that he had a drinking problem or a drug problem. His memory was that bad.
In fact, he’d had his battles with drugs and alcohol in the past, but at that time, he was clean and sober. Nemergut did have an explanation, though: His short-term memory had been a black hole ever since he suffered a traumatic brain injury on Nov. 16, 2003.
On that day in 2003, Private First Class Nemergut, performing combat support with the 143rd Military Police Company, was riding down a dusty road in Iraq, the turret gunner in the lead Humvee of a three-vehicle convoy, transporting a chaplain from the Green Zone in central Baghdad to Camp Victory, in western Baghdad. But along Main Supply Route Irish, a few kilometers before Camp Victory, an improvised explosive device blew up, 50 meters in front of Nemergut’s Humvee.
According to the description on the National Purple Heart Hall of Honor, Nemergut “collapsed through the turret of the Humvee and was disoriented for approximately 15 seconds. When he came to, he repositioned himself in the turret.”
“I got my bell rung by this bomb,” Nemergut told me in an interview last year. “I felt like my ear and face were bleeding.”
No one else was injured by the IED blast, and there was no further attack. But Nemergut had sustained a minor traumatic brain injury, which worsened his post-traumatic stress disorder; his right ear drum was perforated, and he developed tinnitus, losing some hearing in both ears, but especially his right. He also has been sensitive to light ever since.
Nemergut's injuries and PTSD led to a battle with addiction and what he called a midlife crisis. But he’s now in a quiet environment that he believes is perfect for him: the Bunnell Branch Library. Here’s how it happened.
Nemergut decided to join the military for one reason: “I was broke.”
He enlisted while he was a student at RHAM High School, in Connecticut, in March 2001, at age 17. Both parents had to sign paperwork. The plan was to do weekend drills, finish high school early and go to basic training in February 2002.
Then, between second and third period classes on Sept. 11, 2001, he saw the infamous footage on CNN: A second plane plunging into the World Trade Center.
His third-period teacher, Ms. Barton, looked at Nemergut and another young man who had also joined the military already, and she said, “I don’t know what this means, but you two are both going somewhere.”
No way, Nemergut responded. If the United States did get into an armed conflict, he figured it would all end before by the time he’d be eligible to go on active duty.
He was wrong.
On April 16, 2003, Nemergut’s plane landed in Kuwait, and he was stationed in Camp Pennsylvania, “in the middle of the desert.” On May 10, he was in Baghdad, with the 143rd Military Police Company.
After that tour, and his injury, he was a different person.
“When I initially got home from Iraq, I curled up into a bottle for four years,” he recalled. “I had three years left in my military contract, and I thought I was going to go back to Iraq and die.”
He thought at the time, “If I’m going to go back and die, I’m just going to party like there’s no tomorrow. I’m on borrowed time.”
He got into drugs and alcohol. In 2008, his girlfriend gave him an ultimatum: “If you don’t get sober, I’m going to move on.”
Nemergut attended support groups and finally got sober. He and his girlfriend got married Oct. 13, 2009. But he still hadn’t addressed his mental health. He had a disability rating with the military, but it wasn’t until years of trying that he finally got upgraded to a 100% disability due to PTSD.
He and his wife decided to move to Daytona Beach in 2010, even though he didn’t have a job there yet. Even though it was in the middle of a recession. He applied to many jobs, including in the Volusia County Public Library System, where he was told at the interview that 150 people had applied for the job. “What do you think about that?” he was asked.
“I hope you really like me,” he said.
Nemergut worked as a library assistant in Volusia County from August 2010 to January 2012, hoping it would be a stepping stone in his career. That’s when he transferred to the position at the jail. After his supervisor questioned his work, she realized that what he probably needed was a quiet environment, and she helped him get back into the library system.
“She wanted me to be successful,” he recalled.
During the next five years, while working at a Volusia library branch, he got a Master of Library and Information Science degree, taking one class at a time, and graduated in May 2017.
But the work and school and his injury history brought him to a breaking point. He was 33 years old, he had a young family, and, he said, “I just lost it.”
He quit his job. He got into his car and left.
“I ended up flying out to the West Coast,” Nemergut recalled. “I didn’t know when I was going to come back.”
“I almost died for my country. I wanted to see what I almost died for. And I wanted to find God.”
JONATHAN NEMERGUT
He knew something was wrong inside. What was he looking for?
“I almost died for my country,” he said. “I wanted to see what I almost died for. And I wanted to find God.”
Listening to religious radio stations, he drove from San Diego to Seattle. He drove through North Dakota, Nebraska, Colorado. He had plenty of time to think, to listen. And he decided what he needed to do was to repent.
He returned home.
He felt better, reunited with his family, but now he had no job again.
After a short stint working with Volusia’s veteran services office, he saw the job listing for a librarian at the Bunnell branch of the Flagler County Public Library System, applied, and he got the job. (He still lives in Daytona Beach.)
Considering his hearing issues, including a ringing that still comes to his ears, the library was a perfect fit — a quiet place.
“I’ve had a lot of jobs,” Nemergut said. “I have trouble with stress, trouble with getting along with people. … When I was in Iraq, I used to pray to God: ‘If I survive, I want to have a peaceful life.’”
Most people who have his degree of PTSD, he said, aren’t able to function in society very well; but, thanks to his job, he can contribute.
“He’s been a great addition,” Library Director Holly Albanese said. A recent customer service survey gave Nemergut high marks, she said. Many patrons mentioned him by name and said, “He provides the best customer service.”
“He’s a good role model,” Albanese added.
Nemergut now walks the stacks, helping patrons find their movies and books. Sometimes homeless people stop in, and he tries to help them.
He said: “I feel like this is where God put me.”
