Army Capt. David Rozelle loosens his belt buckle, the one his commander gave him on the eve of the Iraq war, to reveal a 16-word inscription: "Brave Rifles! Veterans!You have been baptized in fire and blood and have come out steel."

He reads it aloud, reciting Gen. Winfield Scott's 1847 address to U.S. cavalrymen during the Mexican-American War.

Less than two months after Rozelle and his troops crossed into Iraq last spring, an anti-tank mine blew off his right foot. In a flash, the inspirational slogan had literal meaning. "I definitely was baptized in blood and steel," he says, referring to his blood and his wrecked Humvee. A bit of shrapnel remains in his leg.

But his limb, which ends 2 inches above the ankle, is now sheathed in an artificial leg and foot. The foot fits into a standard-issue combat boot. Rozelle, 31, is still in the Army — and he intends to return to Iraq.

In today's military, amputation doesn't automatically mean "medical retirement," a discharge because of a disability. High-tech advances in artificial limbs and improved methods of rehabilitation now allow a significant number of amputees to stay in uniform. Some, like Rozelle, may even return to combat. At least 4,400 military men and women have been wounded in action since the United States invaded Afghanistan in 2001 and Iraq last year. More than 120 of them have lost a limb. Some have lost two or three.

"We anticipate that up to 40% of all of those injured will be able to return to active duty," says Chuck Scoville, administrator of Ward 57, the amputee wing at Walter Reed Army Medical Center in Washington, D.C. It is the military's hub for amputation surgery and rehabilitation. "A lot of the guys want to stay. They're just amazing."

Rozelle is a poster boy for that choice. He is tall, athletic and relentless. He threw himself into rehab as he underwent several surgeries to repair his leg. His first goal: Leave the hospital in time for the birth of his first child. His second goal: Ski again by Christmas.

He spent hours each day in therapy to rebuild and retrain his muscles to compensate for the loss of his foot and to prepare for the artificial limb. Barely a month after his June 21 injury and two months ahead of schedule, Rozelle returned to Fort Carson on crutches in mid-July. He was there when his wife, Kim, gave birth to their son, Forrest, on Aug. 5.

Later that month, Rozelle got his first prosthesis. After a month of adjustment, "it was off to the races," he says — four hours of daily exercise, physical therapy, weight lifting, swimming, mountain biking and climbing, "anything I could do to stay in motion." Rozelle, an expert skier before he was wounded, was barreling down the slopes of the Colorado Rockies by December — on two legs.

He was an athlete in school and the Army. While stationed in Korea, he played on an Army rugby squad against teams all over Southeast Asia.

"At least once a day, I miss my foot, but it hasn't slowed me much," Rozelle says. "There are times I definitely feel disabled, (but) getting back to skiing was getting back to life."

Rozelle grew up in Austin and lived for family ski trips to Colorado. He was ecstatic when the Army transferred him to Fort Carson in 2001 (coincidentally on Sept. 11), a two-hour drive from the slopes.

Bode Miller is his idol. Miller won two silver medals in skiing at the 2002 Olympics with come-from-behind runs. "He's like a cavalryman — not the most polished guy, but he beats everybody else down the mountain by sheer force. That's how I ski." Even on an artificial leg, Rozelle can reach 70 mph.

High-tech limbs help

At Walter Reed, the rehabilitation staff considers soldiers "tactical athletes." Scoville says, "Their expectations are to go back to full athletic activities. Our goal is to get them there."

The hospital's prosthetics lab fits some amputees with limbs containing tiny microprocessors. The mini-computers make artificial wrists and elbows work simultaneously and help knees and legs maintain a natural gait.

Whether amputees use their new limbs in the military or in civilian life usually is up to them.

Army Sgt. Andrew McCaffrey, 31, of Massapequa, N.Y., is a Green Beret whose right hand was blown off by a grenade in Afghanistan. He's back on active duty with a high-tech limb at Fort Bragg in North Carolina after months at Walter Reed.

"He probably will stay in Special Forces. He can do all of the tasks required," Scoville says. "I've watched him start an IV. He's able to field-strip his weapon and put it back together in 90 seconds."

Cpl. Brian Wilhelm, 22, originally from Manchester, Iowa, awaits the verdict of an Army medical board on whether he is "fit for duty" and eligible to return to his unit. A rocket-propelled grenade shattered his leg last October in Iraq.

"I don't want to have to go out on somebody else's terms," says Wilhelm, a squad leader in the 1st Battalion of Fort Carson's 8th Infantry Regiment. "I don't want some terrorist to have a say in my future."

Sgt. Justin Callahan, 22, of Syracuse, lost his left leg while clearing land mines in Afghanistan in January. He won't stay in the Army when he leaves Walter Reed this month. "I was an active guy who worked out a lot, was in the gym all the time," says Callahan, an engineer with the 10th Mountain Division at Fort Drum in New York. "I didn't think I'd be able to be what I used to be, which is above the rest. It was time to move on."

'I feel like a ship captain'

But seeing other amputees in Ward 57 has inspired him to pursue a career in physical therapy. "I felt lucky that I just lost the bottom of my left leg, 9 inches," Callahan says. "Other guys lost an arm, a leg, two arms, even their face. I realized that if I have to deal with something for the rest of my life, I might as well go into a field that I'd relate to the best."

For Rozelle, that field is the Army. "I wouldn't want to start over as a civilian. I love what I do," he says. "I feel like a ship captain, you know? They continue to go to sea with their peg legs."

So do four-star generals. Among the visitors to the amputee ward at Walter Reed are the former Army chief of staff, Gen. Eric Shinseki, who lost part of a foot in Vietnam, and retired Army Gen. Frederick Franks, the 7th Corps commander in the Gulf War who lost his left leg to a grenade in Vietnam.

Rozelle was proud, even eager, when he led his unit of 170 troops across the Kuwait border on April 28, 2003 — Saddam Hussein's 66th birthday. "We all crossed into Iraq with our belt buckles on," Rozelle says. The brass buckles were stamped with the insignia of the 3rd Armored Cavalry Regiment, the tank-mounted descendants of Army scout Kit Carson, for whom Fort Carson is named. The regiment commander, Col. David Teeples, gave one to each of his unit leaders as they left here for Iraq.

Rozelle, who commanded K Troop of the 3rd Squadron, was haunted by the symbolic loss of his uniform as medics worked to save him. It was just a half-hour after his Humvee, leading a convoy, ran over a mine in the western Iraqi town of Hit, where he was training a new police force.

"The first thing they do is cut off all your clothes," he recalls. "That could have been the last day that I ever wore green. That didn't dawn on me until I got home and struggled to get back in shape."

But in March, after nine grueling months of rebuilding himself, an Army medical board certified Rozelle "fit for duty." Next month, within days of the first anniversary of losing his foot, he will assume command of the 3rd Armored Cavalry's headquarters unit.

"The reason the boss gave (the command) to him is because he earned it," says Col. Butch Kievenaar, the commander of Rozelle's squadron. "It's not, 'Here's a guy who gave up a leg.' It's, 'Here is a soldier, capable to lead troops.' "

Rozelle's duties will deal more with administration and supplies than combat. But his unit is expected to return to Iraq, perhaps next year, and it could be as close to the action as any. "There is no front line," he says.

On another mission

This week, Rozelle is back at Walter Reed, but not just for a checkup. He has made several trips on his own to visit fellow amputees. Early on, he had seen others in bed weeks after they had arrived. So he gave himself another mission: encouraging amputees by showing how he has made it.

"These guys with no arms who have to go home and learn to live again? Shoot, I've got it easy," Rozelle says. "You talk to a guy that's missing both arms, and he'll look at you and say, 'Man, I'm sure glad I've got my legs.' You talk to a guy that's lost both his legs and he's (raising his arms) and saying, 'I got these.' "

Rozelle recruits amputees to join him at sports clinics, ski races and other events for disabled veterans. He goads others into playing wheelchair basketball and joining other outings in the nation's capital. He answers their questions with something he never got when he first arrived: plain talk about life after losing a limb.

"I sat in rooms with guys and cried with them," Rozelle says. "I think I've made a difference with a few." He still spends an hour a day e-mailing other amputees.

As military amputees recover, they sometimes become celebrities. They are in demand for veterans' events and flag-waving tributes to the troops.

Challenges still to come

Their road to recovery is even a current subject in the Doonesbury comic strip. Last month, the character B.D., a Vietnam vet who returned to duty in Iraq as a National Guardsman, lost his left leg just below the knee. The strip's creator, Garry Trudeau, told ABC News he aims to portray life-changing sacrifice and "the coping strategies that get people through this."

Rozelle says he doesn't need a return trip to Iraq to prove himself or to "heal." But he admits that going back "would be the ultimate symbol of my ability to overcome this." Although he can run, march and jump, he expects duty in the field will pose challenges: "How am I going to handle all the uneven terrain and walking in sand and having to care for my stump? What if I get a blister and have to go on crutches for a day?"

Kim Rozelle supports her husband: "It's not that I want him to go back. But if so, to me it would be a plus for him to go back to that town and say, 'Hey, you didn't get the best of me. I'm still here.' "

Until then, Rozelle continues to prepare. "I think back to when I was 18, 19, 20 years old. I could do anything," he says. "Now, I'm approaching where I was. By summer, I hope to be in the best shape of my life."

He still limps a little, "but if (other soldiers) look at my combat patch, they'll know why I'm limping." The insignia on the right shoulder of his uniform indicates Rozelle served in combat. When walking by others at Fort Carson, "I do have a tendency to throw my right shoulder out at them," he says with a smirk, "to make sure they understand that I didn't hurt myself throwing the Frisbee."

In the Fort Carson gym, Rozelle bench-presses more than 300 pounds. He competed in a "sprint triathlon:" a 4-mile run, 11-mile bike ride and 500-meter swim. He dreams of skiing the giant slalom in the Winter Paralympics.

He also is lobbying the Army to start a Paralympics training program for disabled military athletes. The Army already maintains a program here for world-class military athletes, because the U.S. Olympic Training Center is next door in Colorado Springs.

Also on Rozelle's wish list is a running prosthesis — a limb with a springy metal bar for a foot. It is shaped like the letter C or J, with tread on the bottom to grip the pavement. He hopes to get one by summer, when he has been invited to join President Bush for a run.

He also may get a waterproof foot for swimming. Several times a week, Rozelle swims a mile in the Fort Carson pool. Even without the special foot, he swims past others who have both of theirs.

And when he touches the north edge of the pool after each lap, Rozelle faces a sign on the wall: "LOSERS quit when they are tired / WINNERS quit when they have won."