NOT Just Another Day.
Commenter Doc Bailey and I have been swapping emails about this and that. I was rather surprised to learn that we have some things in common even though shifted 40 years in time.
But he mentioned a coupla things I couldn’t directly relate to so I asked him to expand on them.
Here is the first, in his words. Thanks Doc.
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Here is my account of 25 June 2007, and the events that happened to me that day. I have to put it out there because people have to know. please understand these events are painful for me to recount.
It was a normal day like any other. We were all excited to be getting back, but i was exuasted having pulled a 6 hour gaurd shift right before getting off. We all sat around and joked. I could hear people laughing about the game “company of heroes” that Craig and WillieBo had played. They’d gone for 5 hours only to get their asses kickedby the germans. I was fretting over Jubi. I was a little upset, because he was supposed to have been evaced the night before for (what i would find out later) a slipped disk. I had given him morphine right before i thought he was going to go, he didn’t and i was bracing for the ass reeming i was going to get. I had spent all night fretting about a patient, and in the end i was pretty damm tired, everyone else on the otherhand were lively in a way only the loose cannons can be.
Like always we had details to do, and things that needed to get done. Clean the pisser, sweep and mop, make the “gym” look pretty, Mop the mats, sweep the sleeping bay, and of course pick up cigarette buts. we did these, with the usual amount of bitching complaining and griping. It came time to load up and off we went.
I am sorry to say that i was pretty tired. It is not unusual for me to sneak a short minute or two nap, but of course i never stay out long. I still try to watch for IEDs (but i have since learned that it is nearly impossible to spot them) but on this day, as we were nearing our old COP i was fully awake. I remember taking these same streets through our old AO many times and the street corner itself was well known. I saw a dirt mound on the right and “grandpa time” (he would later just be called “old balls”) as we call him, was pointing it out. Lewis called out a white chair just after the mound. Sgt Johnson the TC, and recently come down from 3 shop asked for an explination, and lewis was telling him about the intel brief put up on the common area board about white chairs being used to mark IEDs. and then . . . BOOOM the vehicle behind us got hit with an EFP. “SHIT” I heard someone say, while there were asking for confused reports on the radio, i screamed “SGT Johnson get me back there” and then we heard “Craig is dead” over the raidio “FUCK” i remeber screaming out the curse in pure frusteration. We continued to roll. for another hundred meters we rolled.
“get doc back here”
“craig is KIA”
HURRY UP!!!”
We pulled up to the aid station, litter barers ready. They came to my door, where my ass was, and i screamed “no the other side” they didn’t ask they just ran over there. I remeber they asked me if i gave anything, and i replied no time. i walked with them all the way to the doors of the aid station. Once he was out of my hands i made it three steps inside the aid station, it felt as if i had to catch my breath I took two deep breathes before I collapsed into tears in the corner. I really don’t want to talk about (here) some of the things that happened in the time he was at the aid station. But i knew the prognosis wasn’t good.
When the bird landed they took Jonny out. and asked the bird to wait for Craig. The Chaplin came over. Drew was sitting there to get checked out, and I was standing. He put his back to the door and started praying. There was this eery build up and i remeber a sense of dread comming upon me. when he rolled out, they were doing CPR on him. I would have collapsed right there if the chaplin had not caught me, he led me tightly as i buried my head in his shoulder and cried unmanly tears. I couldn’t face my platoon, because I felt that I had failed them. But SSG Davison gathered us up, in the Aid station’s rec room. The OIC came to give us a sitrep. He told them it was “very serous”, and part of me wanted to scream that it was a lie. Eventually we got ready to go. The ride back to Rusty was a quiet one. No one spoke.Well there had been an attempt at humor, but I snapped at him and from then on it was quiet.
When we got back to our barracks on Rusty, the LT was waiting for us. he toldus to gather around.
“I want to thank you for all your hard work, but unfortunatly Craig’s injuries were too severe, he didn’t make it”
Bishop screamed, March cried, LT barely got that sentance out. I couldn’t see anymore after that, because of the tears in my eyes. Everyone hugged me, many expressed that if ever they were hurt they wanted me working on them. I wanted not of that. still bloody, I went to into my room dropped my gear ans simply cried my eyes out.
we were told to gather round the CQ desk, told to get our heads right. It was at this point that the BC was ordering a ham sandwich on battalion net. It felt like a slap in the face, but then the whole day had. I couldn’t really deal with it all, but i had work to do. I went up to the hospital, blood still all over my ACUs, despite people telling me to take a shower. i gave my report on Jubi, and tried to stammer a report on Craig to my PA, before he told me to go back to my barracks and come back the next day. I walked away beaten and battered. I can not begin to describe how empty i felt. Right then i wished i had never re-enlisted, and wished Lisa (my GF) were there. I wished everything, simply if i could not be there. But eventually (2 hours later) i went and took a shower. You know it is truly amazing how a hot shower can make you feel.
Three days later, my platoon, battered bruised and now very aware of the danger, rolled out to continue our missions. July was going to be a bad month as well.
Category: Geezer Alert!, Historical, Military issues, Real Soldiers, Support the troops, Veterans Issues, War Stories
Thank you for sharing Doc….there were a lot of bad months in southern Baghdad.
I’m not a religious man, but Medics like you are the next best thing to angels when the SHTF. Thank you for being there for your brothers.
Events such as this are what give me such mixed emotions about not having to go to Vietnam. While I feel very fortunate that I was at home, safe; I feel a loss for not having been there with fellow troops, sharing the risks.
Doc, (and by extension, all of you),who have been downrange have experienced life events that I can only fathom. Y’all are my heroes, and always will be.
Thank you DOC you have given me another perspective.
We hear ya, Doc…
Good medics are worth more then their weight in gold. Couple of quick stories. Back in the old days, the 80’s we would have medics assigned to our platoons. We had one assigned to us one time that turned out to be the best damn medic ever. Well maybe the second best. He was so good that my platoon basically told me in no uncertain terms that anytime we had to go to the field he was going with us and if I failed to ensure that I was in for a rough time. Fortunately for me we got along, he developed an affinity for my platoon and if they ever tried to assign him to anybody else he would set them straight. The final spin on this little tale. The guy was gay. Yup, queer as a $3 bill, but you know what. It just didn’t matter. The man knew his stuff and took good care of my guys. There is nobody else you wanted. Being in the Infantry the very nature of our work ensured we were going to get banged up but with him along we went about our jobs with a lot more confidence.
The other one involves a massive man, I think his name was Dierdorf. Think of Arnold Schwarzenegger in BDU’s. That guy actually carried one of my soldiers who suffered a broken leg about a mile on his back to a LZ for evac. He went on to attend SF school and I don’t know if he made it or not, we always assumed he did.
Anyway all of that is just to say medics I love you. The ones assigned to Infantry units endure everything we do, carry what we carry with the additional perk of carrying an aid bag and do all their stuff under the worst of conditions without a weapon with a big Red Cross on their sleeve to allow snipers to zero in their weapons.
Thanks for sharing Doc. No matter how painful the stories, I have found that, over the years, telling them seems to have a cathartic effect on both the man relating it, and those he’s telling it too.
God bless ya, Doc. We’re here for you, just like we’re here for each other because, in the end, we’re about all we’ve got.
I was in FOB Falcon at the same time these guys were in Rusty. I also read the book, “The Good Soldiers”. It’s true what #5 said: good medics ARE worth their weight in gold. They are the guys we know have our backs above all else.
By the way, I have found over my time deployed that unmanly tears have been shed by all real men who have waged war.
God bless our medics. You are the physical proof that our country will not abandon us in our time or need. Whether its a sucking chest wound, a blister, or just someone to talk to; you’re there to care for your fellow soldiers when it seems that nobody else does. Your courage under fire is awe inspiring, but even more so is that having seen the worst that can befall a soldier, you remain steadfastly at our side.
@7 – Small world. I was there as well, same BDE as Doc, probably you as well.
I had been putting off reading The Good Soldiers, but another former BDE guy recommended it, so I will pick it up soon.
For a long time I blamed myself for failing him. Someone asked me did I save any lives? And until long after the deployment was over, I could only honestly say “I don’t know” I know now that there were two lived I did save. And in two deployments, as a medic, I have learned that our lives, are very fragile, and that our liberties are all the more precious.
Which is probably why i get so passionate about some of the issues that come up.
Thanks, Doc. I can only add my thoughts to what the others have already posted.
I took great comfort in knowing that there were medics and corpsmen out there for my son while he was in the Stan and that you guys would go the extra miles for him and the men in his company.
Hey Doc, that story brought back some old memories. I was at Rusty in in 05-06 and it was an EFP hellhole then as well. Just curious as to when you were there and with who?
Can’t add anymore to what’s been said. God be with you, brother.
God bless you Bailey and good luck in your future endeavors.
I did read the “Good Soldiers”, it is a tough book to read. I pulled it at awhile back when you mentioned being in that battalion but I don’t think it has an index. I got distracted again will review.
@13 I was with 2nd Battalion 16th Infantry in 2007. Bravo company lost 3 men, two of whom were in my platoon. The thing that really gets me is we weren’t on any mission to get some bad guy or some important mission. both times we lost guys, we were just going back to Rusty for refit. Hot showers and anything but K rats for chow on our minds.
The war “officially” ended yesterday, and I was asked, was it worth is. Was it worth the lives of Spc Andre Craig? Or PFC James Harrelson who had just turned 19? Or SFC Doster who left behind a wife and two children. I ask was it worth it? and I have no firm answer.
But I would like to think, that somehow their blood consecrated that hellish land and that somehow, by force of will we shaped it into a better place with a chance for a brighter future. But then only time will tell.
There is only one true memorial and valued remembrance to the men and women who lost life and limb in service to the United States of America. It is the love and respect their fellow servicemen and we veterans hold for them. We may gnash our teeth and pound our fists and ask, “Why him?” or “Why them?” or “Why not me?” but those heartfelt questions are never satisfactorily answered. We remember. That is what we, as veterans, do. And while we would like to do much more, and sometimes can, we do remember. That is an abiding honor and commitment. In recounting your experiences with those soldiers, Doc, you have met that commitment. We know.
Well said, AC. Can only add that it is we, because of our memories and the honor we feel to have served, as very few others are able to, who spot other vets who need our attention.
That point was brought home to me upon returning from Desert Storm. My father was career Army whose service included both WWII and Korea. Without saying a word, I saw it in his eyes. I was now a full member of the “team,” in spite of having almost 20 years already in service.
You all know what I mean.