One Night

I refuse to go over there. Gonna sit right here and play solitaire. Not gonna join the crowd and watch the night’s entertainment on the screen. The aerial camera is only so riveting. They’re watching the camera struggle to stay on the truck that might have been the one that rockets got launched from onto one of the camps. Me watching it isn’t gonna do anything. Soldiers are on their way. Helicopters are criss- crossing the screen above the truck.

 
Nope, just gonna zone out and enjoy my thirteenth hour of sitting here. It’ll be nice when battalion sends over John Buck to help cover down so I can go back to twelve hour days. Huh? A vehicle accident at the front gate?
 

- Hey, Sergeant, what unit is that?

- 1/6, sir.

 
Shit, more work. Well, not work, but just a hassle.

- What happened?

- Rollover, sir.

 
That’s not good. Not good at all.

- Are there injuries?

- Roger, sir, five or six. 

 
Go over to where the RTO is taking down information so I can hear the radio. Whoa!

- What’s this in your notes about CPR?

- One of the guys is having a hard time breathing. They’ve called for oxygen.

- Isn’t CPR when someone’s died? Are there any fatalities?

- No sir, no fatalities.

- Find out the bumper number of the vehicle. Do you know who these guys are?

- They’re the R and R guys going back to Gabe.

- It’s a five-ton?

- No, sir, a humvee. I’ll find out the bumper number.

 
Call battalion to give them the head’s up. Everyone is still watching the camera. Who gives a shit about that?

 
Okay, battalion knows about it. Find out who these guys are. Back over to the RTO. They can’t read the bumper, but they have the trailer number. Why would a humvee have a trailer going down for R and R pickup? It could, but…

- Hey, double check that this is a humvee. It should be a five-ton truck.

- They say it’s a humvee sir.

 
Pass this trailer number to battalion. Maybe they know which vehicle it’s with. Oh, the battalion commander picked up the phone.

- No sir, no fatalities. Five or six wounded right now. They’ve gotta get a crane to lift the vehicle off one of the guys arm. They’re talking about doing CPR now on one of them who’s having a hard time breathing. We’re still getting information. Roger sir, I’ll pass it immediately.

 
What did the Battle Captain just say to me? Oh, yeah, probably should go over to the Aid Station and check on the soldiers. Get all my gear on. Shit. Hope they’re not all messed up. God, please. I don’t wanna see gore and amputations.

 
Out in the dark, over to the Aid Station. Where’s my flashlight? Crap, left it in the room this morning. Make sure I don’t get run over crossing the road in the dark. At least there’s some moon out. Gotta watch my step over there because the ground’s uneven. Mini clouds of dust erupt around my feet as I stomp through the silt. It’s quiet.

 
Open the door. Bright. Blink a few times. Chaos. People scurrying around everywhere, clumping in pockets around… Ugh. Pale, naked, bruised, bloated body. Oxygen mask. Clothes cut off, in scrap heaps on the floor around the stretcher up on sawhorses. What’s that mothers always say? “Always wear clean underwear. You never know when you’ll be in a car accident.” Pull yourself together. Get information. No, don’t mess with people working on soldiers. Know what to do. Do it. Over to the check- in desk.

 
Get there, look in the window. Oh, excuse me. The Colonel? How did he get here ahead of me? Shit. Someone just said KIA. Need to call battalion. Colonel’s on the phone.

- Hey sergeant, I don’t want to get in the way. I need to get information about the wounded for my battalion.

- Talk to her there. You know about the KIA.

- I just heard.

 
Colonel’s talking to the battalion commander. Expressing regrets for the KIA. Hands the phone to me. Nothing to say.

- Sir, I’m getting information now. They’re in the middle of working on them. I’ll call back ASAP when I get more.

 
Off the phone. Talk to that female soldier that’s getting the information. Someone coming in here. Hey, that’s SGT Perdidas. Young, twenty two or so. Drenched through in sweat, crying, gash on his chin, hyperventilating. Some Staff Sergeant sitting him down, handing him forms, beating him up about doing his statement.

- Hey Sergeant, I’ll take care of this.

- Oh, roger, sir.

 
Good, the Staff Sergeant’s gone.

- Try to catch your breath. Calm down.

 
SGT Perdidas is trying to. The crying is messing with his breathing. He’s gasping in little staccato bursts, trying to rein himself in. He’s trying to write. His hands are shaking. Take the pad from him, talk to him, calm him down, get the information.

- I’ll do the statement for you. You just tell me what to write. What happened? Take it easy. Take it slow.

- We were leaving, going back to Gabe.

- In a humvee?

- No, in a five ton.

- Who was in the truck?

 
I pull the story slowly from him. He was in the cab with the driver and some sergeant that he didn’t know. Four were in the back. John was one of them. They were driving in blackout drive. What?!! No NVGs?!! Okay, he’s hyperventilating again. Oh, yeah, he’s got that gash on his chin. Need to take care of him.

- Hey, can I get one of y’all to clean him up? We’ll get to this later. Okay? Get patched up.

 
Better call battalion.

- Yes, sir. I’ve got some of the story. Still getting details. They were driving without lights without NVGs and went into the drainage ditch. I have some of their names. Here they are. CPT Buck’s one of em.

- How is John?

- I don’t know sir.

- I mean is he fucked up? How’s he look?

- I haven’t gotten a look sir. I’m over here getting information right now. I didn’t want to get in the docs’ way. I’ll find out and get back to you, sir.

 
Get the rest of the information from that female soldier. She’s filling out the fatality paperwork. Specialist Javier Esperando. Find out the rest of the guys’ initial diagnoses.

Find John. Said he had abdominal injuries. Check the clumps of docs. He’s the one I saw at first. Looks like he’s in the worst shape by all the activity around him. He’s awake though. Some medic is holding his saline and blood bag since the clamp for the bag hangers isn’t working. I can do that.

- Hey. I’ll do that so you can do something else.

- Add pressure so that we can get this in him

- Got it.

 
Make eye contact with John. Nod at him. Don’t show any fear. Don’t want to upset him. Be strong, calm.

- Hey buddy.

 
He acknowledges me. Ask a doc. They think he has a fractured pelvis. Glance. There’s a hand towel over his lap, but the medic’s got her hand under it with a tube. Don’t look at that. Squeeze the blood bag. Squeeze the saline. Keep an eye on John. He’s awake still. Talk to him a little. What to say? Dumb stuff, normal stuff. They’re getting you stabilized. You’re gonna be okay. Your blood pressure and pulse are going back to normal.

- Hey doc, can you give him anything?

- No, we can’t now. He’s stabilizing and now he’s gonna start being in a lot of pain.

 
Something catches my eye. Oh shit. No more hand towel. Medic’s got something in his hand. Ugh, he’s bleeding from down there. Look away. Another medic is fixing the clamp. They need litter carriers to get the guys on the birds.

- Hey, John, hang in there buddy; I’ll be right back. Gonna get the boys on the bird.

 
Follow the group of soldiers that went running out into the night. Dark. Can’t see. Eyes haven’t adjusted. One of them has a flashlight. Follow him. We follow the ambulance. Not even thinking about being tired and I’m running in boots. Guess this is adrenaline.

 
Ambulance stops. Uh- huh. Uh- huh. One, two, three, lift. Head down, going to the Blackhawk. Don’t want my head cut in half. Not gonna happen since the crew chief is standing there, but then that’s irrational fear isn’t it? Roar of the rotors. Wind beating down on my neck. Lean in to hear what the crew chief is saying. Barely make him out. Tell him what’s wrong with this soldier. Load him on. Run, hunched over, back to the ambulance. Share a glance with the other guys. Make a break back for the Aid Station.

 
Get in. Call and report. Back to John. The clamp is still messed up. They’re getting ready to move him. Hold the saline and blood while they prep him.

-John , this is gonna suck.

 
They roll him over to put a hard board underneath him. He groans, growls, curses. They cover him with a woolen blanket. They start to strap him down, slide a small oxygen tank between his legs and under the strap.

- Hey be careful where you put that.

- We gotta get this on here.

- Yeah, but he has a broken pelvis. Be careful.

 
Idiots. Okay. Time to lift. Crap, my left hand. Damn frozen finger. Concentrate. Help with the other hand. Don’t drop him. One, two, three, lift. Scurry over to the Ambulance. Load in with him. Hold his blood and saline.

- Hey, keep that shit off his lap.

- It’s gotta go somewhere sir.

- Fine, hold it. Keep it off his fucking lap.

 
Okay, well I’m not gonna be that kid’s best friend. John mumbles thanks. No problem.

- Hey, I think your ballet career is over.

 
He groans. Maybe joking wasn’t the right thing to do. Crap. Time to unload him. Keep all the tubes untangled. Get him on the bird.

 
Flashback to when we did MEDEVAC training in Macedonia. Remember that rotor wash in the face. Looking up at the blades is something you never want to see again. Snap back. Get John loaded. Run back. Get next soldier loaded. They’re all loaded. Hustle out from under the blades. Stand next to the ambulance. Take a breath. Walk back to the Aid Station. Gotta report. Gotta get the rest of the information. Gonna be tired when this wears off.

 
Get in there. There’s a staff sergeant bawling out his eyes, talking, mumbling to a captain. He isn’t one of my guys, is he? Ask someone. Oh, he’s the patrol leader that was escorting the five- ton back. Sees me. The captain bolts.

- If we didn’t leave he wouldn’t be dead. (Sob, sob). Why did I take them out? (Sob, sob) We could have just stayed. This didn’t have to happen.

 
Console him. Wasn’t his fault, doing his job, he isn’t God, etc. He sees SGT Perdidas, goes over and hugs him, whispering in his ear. They cry together.