Thirty cents.

That's all it will take from every Canadian to make a difference in the lives of the 42 million wheelchair-bound people around the world.

* * *

In a somewhat ironic twist of fate, 19-year-old Chris Klodt made his first inquiry about joining the military on September 11, 2001 -- the day countless lives were changed when terrorism struck North America.

Chris didn't have a noble goal in mind....overthrowing corrupt regimes and righting wrongs. He wasn't even tuned into the television that morning. After working at A&P, Dundas Tire and a stint at Holiday Kitchens in Greensville, Chris needed steady employment.

"I wanted something with a lot of security because, at that point, I was going through jobs like underwear," he said

Younger brother Robbie had already enlisted, and urged Chris to sign up. He traveled to Halifax for basic training, then to Winnipeg for infantry school and finally settled with the Princess Patricia Canadian Light Infantry, 2nd Battalion at CFB Shilo in Manitoba. He did his first tour to Bosnia in 2002-03 for a six-month peacekeeping mission.

"It was pretty quiet. There were people working and rebuilding," he said. "Yeah, there were blown up buildings and discarded tanks, but it didn't bother me. I was there to do a job."

* * *

Fast forward to Afghanistan, July 7, 2006. It was the first day of a new operation. Corporal Klodt was part of a sweep through the villages and farms west of Kandahar that had been the scene of numerous clashes with insurgents over the previous two months.

"We knew the Taliban were in the area, so we starting looking at 10 a.m. One or two from my section were called up to support another platoon."

Corporal Klodt walked down the flank, kicking in doors and going into buildings. Gunfire broke out. For 10 to 15 minutes, shots were exchanged.

Only four weeks before Corporal Klodt was slated to head home to plan his wedding to Deena Schreyer and witness the birth of his first child, he was hit. A half-inch bullet slammed into the right side of his neck, pierced his larynx, shattered two vertebrae in his back and crushed his spinal cord. Corporal Klodt collapsed instantly.

"The last thing I remember was one of the guys yelling, 'Klodt's been hurt.'"

The brave, young corporal clung precariously to consciousness as he was whisked by Black Hawk helicopter to the hospital at Kandahar Air Field. "All I could think about was Deena and the baby. I knew I had to get through it to get back for them." From Kandahar, Corporal Klodt was flown to Landstuhl, Germany, and stabilized. Deena, seven months pregnant, arrived at his side.

"They didn't think I was was going to make it."

When Corporal Klodt woke up four days after being shot, he faced a grim prognosis. "I don't remember when it hit me that I was paralyzed. I think in Germany I realized it, but it didn't really sink in. I was thinking, 'Okay, I'm here. I'll make do.'"

Doctors said he wouldn't walk again. Wouldn't eat. Wouldn't be able to breathe on his own. Wouldn't speak.

* * *

By July 16, Corporal Klodt was back on Canadian soil. Two days later, at Hamilton General, he underwent an operation to put rods, pins and plates in his neck to stabilize the missing vertebrae. Rehabilitation followed at Chedoke.

"I guess my soldiering instincts took over and I just started pushing myself," he said. Chris underwent treatment and rehab for two years. Defying doctors, he regained almost full use of his upper body. He can speak, eat and feed himself.

* * *

Two months to the day when Corporal Klodt was shot, son Jonathan entered the world, on Sept. 7, 2006. From the outset, Chris considered the possibility of using his infant son's stem cell fluids to help repair his seriously damaged spine. Chris is considered a prime candidate to benefit from groundbreaking research because his spinal cord isn't actually severed.

Led by Dr. Michel Rathbone and Dr. Shucui Jian at McMaster, the medical team has made progress in regenerating spinal cord cells. The team expects to be able to help repair damaged cords in humans within five years.

"There are lots of people doing research trying to find a cure, but they're so far behind Dr. Rathbone and Mac," said Chris. "They actually have paralyzed rats walking. They are so close that that's where my hope is right now."

Chris is the spokesperson for Wheel to Walk - a convoy of four determined men who are wheeling across Canada on hand cycles to fund research that will enable them to discard their wheelchairs and walk again. Charles Cetinski, Harvey Uppal, Les McLaughlin and Chuck Mealing will each log about 100 kilometres a day over three months of their fundraising journey. Their goal is to raise $10 million.

"Thirty cents...that's all we're looking for," said Chris. "We need people to take on that challenge."

* * *

Thousands of miles away from Afghanistan, both physically and psychologically, the gentle summer breezes waft through the fields surrounding Chris Klodt's Westover home. Son Jonathan's excited giggles are infectious as he eagerly crawls onto any vacant lap.

Chris reflects on his country, its role in Afghanistan and the day just over two years ago that changed his life. "Canada's the greatest country in the world. We find cures and develop new programs and ways of doing things and we stand up for things that are right."

In Afghanistan, he said, women are not allowed on the street without male escorts. They wear burkas and are treated miserably. Most men are overbearing, ruling and rude.

Chris believes Canadian soldiers belong in the country, and he'd go back again if he were able. "If you believe in human rights and women's rights and the right to freedom, why wouldn't you support why we're there?

"If we're not going to stand up for human rights, what are we going to stand up for?"