When corrections officer Peter Kuhlmann needed assistance, fellow corrections officer Michael Whitehead was there to help.

On Dec. 22, 2009, at the Northern Correctional Institution in Somers, an inmate with an extensive history of staff assault exited his cell and violently attacked Kuhlmann. The inmate was armed with a makeshift weapon, tipped with a razor blade, which he used to quickly slash across the officer's neck.

Whitehead interceded immediately, without regard to his own safety, and secured the inmate, preventing further injury to his fellow staff member. Kuhlmann suffered a two-inch laceration and a puncture wound and had to be rushed to the hospital by ambulance.

Based upon his quick response and the risk presented to his own safety, Whitehead is, in the words of his nominator, "truly deserving of the Connecticut Department of Corrections Medal of Valor."

Whitehead received his award at a combined cadet graduation and awards ceremony held at the Maloney Center for Training and Staff Development. Osborn Correctional Institution Deputy Warden Steven Frey was named Manager of the Year at the ceremony.

When Whitehead received his award, the class of graduating cadets gave him a standing ovation.

"Class 247 made known to their class advisors this morning that they wished to provide a standing ovation to the officers receiving the medal of valor," master of ceremonies Brian Garnett said. "That was their choice."

Kuhlmann said that he was working overtime that day and was dealing with an inmate that he had known for a long time. He knew that the inmate is highly assaultive and he found out after the fact that the inmate had had a "bad day."

"His recreation schedule was changed, he didn't get a double cup of coffee and he was upset that I was shaking him down," Kuhlmann said. "I opened the door, he came up, he squared up to me and I thought he hit me, so a fight ensued."

That's when Whitehead, who had only been on the job a couple months, stepped in.

"He grabbed him right away and helped me subdue him," Kuhlmann said. "He was standing right there and he immediately reacted and subdued him and without him it would have been a different outcome without question. I'm very thankful for him being there. Especially being new, you're not really sure how you're going to react in that situation. It's different for everybody and, unfortunately, you can't predict until you're in that situation."

Whitehead didn't even think – he just reacted.

"It's one of those situations where when you're faced with it, you hope you do the right thing," he said. "You hear about people freezing up and whatnot. I just reacted and just tried to get him away from Kuhlmann because I didn't know what sort of damage he had done."

"I just reacted and the one thought going through my mind was to try to get him away from him. Get him away and get him secured on the floor or on the wall and just wait for help. Everything they taught you at the academy is that you get tunnel vision, you don't hear anything, you just kinda see the target and you go after it. That's basically what I did," he said.

Kuhlmann was seriously injured, though it would have been much worse without Whitehead's intervention. He feels there was intent by the inmate to fatally harm him and that Whitehead saved his life.

"Obviously I can't say enough about what he did," he said. "He saved my life ... there was intent there. It was serious, it was close. The surgeon in the hospital told me that it was millimeters from my jugular and if he'd been on scene and the inmate had hit my jugular, he wouldn't have been able to patch me together. He told me to buy a lottery ticket."

It is still strange for Whitehead to think that he saved someone's life.

"When I hear that ... I've never done anything like this before," he said. "It's all new to me and it happened after two months on the job. Every time I hear that I get, like, butterflies ... almost get nervous about it. When you think about the situation itself, you get a little bit of adrenaline, too. It's surreal. I don't know how to describe it. You're faced with that situation and you realize that you actually did save someone's life. Now he's alive, he can wake up to tomorrow morning, he can see his loved ones and his friends. I'm just glad I could help."

Kuhlmann and Whitehead had never worked together before, had never even met before that fateful shift. Whitehead was still trying to learn the job that day.

"I was still kinda nervous about everything, trying to make sure I'm cuffing these guys right, that I'm doing everything right," Whitehead said. "The day just went along and I kinda followed him because it seemed like he knew what he was doing ... trying to find a mentor in the facility. So he was showing me the ropes, showing me how to do things and whatnot."

That wasn't what Whitehead was expecting from his shift.

"Two months before, I was here graduating and then I was faced with that," he said. "I wasn't expecting it. It's one of those things that very rarely happen, they're locked down 23 hours a day, they're coming out for showers and recreation, a phone call maybe, and it's that instant where you're on guard and you're ready for anything and thank God I was ready."

Whitehead is honored to have been awarded the Medal of Valor.

"It's great," he said. "For the lieutenants and the staff and all my peers to put my name out there for this medal of valor ... I'm a really humble guy, but this is just amazing. I'm extremely grateful for receiving this award and I hope to pay it back. What I did for him, I'll do for anybody that I work with. No question about it, no hesitation."

Kuhlmann returned to work in August in an administrative capacity and Whitehead is still at Northern.

"He's got heart," Kuhlmann said. "He's got a long career ahead of him."

Thanks to Whitehead, Kuhlmann is alive to finish his career.