Week Three
I was just showing
two new friends where I planned to build my hot tub when the blast went
off. The entire tower shook! I felt a brief wind and heard the diminishing
resonance of glass settle back into place.
“Damn, what the hell was that?”
Then it dawned upon me…That was an IED!!
Shit…
Smoke arose from a
tower just across the campus from mine.
My immediate urge
was to grab my trauma case and run to the scene. I could just imagine wounded soldiers
scattered about. Fortunately good sense
prevailed and instead I put on my Flak Vest and Kevlar Helmet and proceeded to the Main Aid Station
to await orders.
None came.
We had not been
here long enough to establish a trauma response protocol. The 3-8 Cavalry was
still tasked with responding to IEDs and other such
events. (Improvised Explosive Device)
The Aid Station
had no communications. I felt
helpless. I’m ashamed to say that I
seemed to be the only one who felt so. I
need to change that.
My
next bright idea back-fired. I thought it might be wise to get in a
vehicle and drive to the front gate or command cell and tell them that I was
ready to respond if necessary. I asked
the medics from the 703rd to drive me. Big mistake…Although the lieutenant in charge
was the one I asked, the term “asked” later got changed to “commandeered”.
We drove around a
bit, only to find out that no US soldiers were wounded and we were not needed.
As I arrived back
to the Aid Station however, we were called into action.
Enter the
unpleasant job of Daniel J. Green MD --
It seems that the
very Iraqi responsible for the blast had come over the wall into our FOB.
Now, this breech
of security alone would astonish most.
We have very high walls and exceptional soldiers securing them. (I have another page about how impressed I
have been with the young men securing this place coming soon)
How then, did this
Iraqi accomplish his entrance onto our compound?
Simple. Via Airmail.
He mailed himself
pre-paid postage over our wall. To make the
flight time and requirements more efficient, he additionally mailed himself in
multiple pieces.
And guess who had
to collect them.
I found the hand
first. Well cooked, but still intact.
The hip was
resting comfortably behind the tower wall.
Lungs and
Intestine strung themselves out prominently over some wire.
A few chunks
mingled with the tall grass.
And a leg, the
most ambitious of all, had flown courageously into a roll of razor wire.
Now, taking this
all lightly required two things:
1)
Seven past years of similar
horrific sites to numb my own response.
2)
Telling my-self that he was
the enemy…For if this had been a
Having had both
the above requirements makes the story far more palatable for me. As a matter-of-fact, by the time I was done
collecting all the body parts I was quite hungry, and took a moment to dine on
a tasty MRE. (The fact that I still like
those things is a far better indicator of my insanity, than the preceding
story)
I have three
pictures to show if you are interested.
I can burn them to a CD for anyone interested. Please send me an email request.
To wrap up, I need
to go back to the whole “commandeered” thing.
In another page, I will comment upon “Completing the
I was ridiculed
later for not following proper protocol: Awaiting Battalion to contact Brigade
to ask the 703rd (another battalion) if they would lend me the use
of their vehicle to go save some lives.
It’s a shame
really…I’m certain that if there had been a few young men laying in
excruciating pain, their life rapidly bleeding out through an open wound or
two, that they would have appreciated the extra ten to fifteen minutes to lay
there in agony while I got permission to go save their lives.
I understand the
whole command and control issue. I also understand how stupid it would be for me to run into a
site that was not yet secure only to become a causality
myself, but as my Sergeant Major so eloquently puts it: Common sense
isn’t common. At some point, after the basic tenants of
safety and security are addressed, you’ve got to jump in an help out regardless if some officer has no idea where her
vehicle is for an hour.
If I had returned
with her precious medics and
No one need worry;
the next time I think some poor soldier’s life is in danger, I’ll be certain to
fill out all necessary forms in triplicate and check with everyone’s superiors before
coming to the rescue…Not
p.s. The lieutenant I
speak of is actually quite spectacular and runs a damn fine ship. She just feels very strongly about doing
things by-the-book.