{"id":373,"date":"2021-10-25T06:31:23","date_gmt":"2021-10-25T10:31:23","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/takeitontheleftfoot.com\/?p=373"},"modified":"2023-08-03T05:50:43","modified_gmt":"2023-08-03T09:50:43","slug":"prelude-to-the-medevac","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/takeitontheleftfoot.com\/?p=373","title":{"rendered":"Prelude to the medevac"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Prelude to the medevac<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The world gets very small when someone is shooting at you.\u00a0 The most disturbing aspect of the ordeal is not knowing where the fire is coming from, it is the source of the greatest anxiety.\u00a0 Once the enemy\u2019s location is identified a combination of anger and pursuit set in, a singular focus.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As such, the narrative that follows will fail to capture the full context of the battle.  It will not describe the \u201cbig picture\u201d of the tactical situation.  Like I said, when you are getting shot at the world gets very small.  I will attempt to connect these frames in a coherent sequence, but some of them may be presented as isolated vignettes.  Memories and perceptions don’t always match in detail with those of others who were present. They are from one individual’s perspective, but this is how I remember it. Sometimes it comes out in past tense, sometimes in the present.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Iraq, 2004.  My second tour.  I was a Platoon Sergeant at the time.  Third Platoon, Kilo 3\/7.  I joked with my buddy Ferg, another Platoon Sergeant, that they <\/em>would never hit me, I was too skinny. (I weighed about 140 lbs at the time).  On April 17th<\/sup>, 2004 in the Battle of Husaybah, I was hit within the first hour of the fight.  Ferg shakes his head and laughs about that part.  Later I told the boys if I had a 300 PFT (Physical Fitness Test) instead of a 285 they wouldn\u2019t have got me.  Then I faced them to the right for a run up Sand Hill in 29 Palms; but that would be much later.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In Husaybah that day as we turned the corner in the back of the 7-ton trucks, I heard rounds crack over my head.  It was the same sound when pulling targets on the rifle range.  We dismounted to head into the city on foot.  Block by block.  I was with Lance Corporal Santos\u2019 squad on the far left.  Two teams to the squad.  (A full squad should be three teams, but such were the manning levels at the time).  I was concerned as we travelled down a narrow alley that we may walk into machine gun fire and the entire squad will be exposed to the long axis of the beaten zone.  I advised Santos to split the squad up, we would follow parallel paths and visually link up at each intersection.  The small radios we carried didn\u2019t work well in the built-up urban area.  Soon thereafter the team I am with comes up to two guys firing a machine gun at us from a second story window.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As we moved up an RPG (rocket propelled grenade) flew about eighteen inches past my head.  A small piece of the debris cut me on the cheek.  I reached up and felt the blood. I had a strange thought:  \u201cWell that wasn\u2019t bad, I was hit, that\u2019s out of the way, I will be fine.\u201d  As though each person gets one wound and receives the luck of the draw<\/em>.  I have no idea why I would think that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I tell Stamper, the Fire Team Leader, they are in the second story window.  He tells me they are on the roof.  I didn\u2019t realize we each saw different people.  I didn\u2019t have time to argue.  I wanted an M203 grenade launcher to fire into that second story window.  I yell \u201cI need a 203 over here!\u201d  Van Gyzen runs up and tries handing his rifle to me.  I was stunned by his action.  What I implied by my statement was that I needed a Marine with a 203 to shoot where I direct.  His response was unexpected and a bit comical.  For a split second I considered taking it but didn\u2019t know if he had a round in the chamber, thought it would take too long to get one from him, and then shoot.  So, I decided to step out and fire into the second story window with my M16. (I still had an M16.  M4\u2019s were being fielded but I carried the M16 on my first deployment to Iraq and I preferred it).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As I began firing at the enemy position in the second story window one of the guys Stamper saw dropped a grenade in front of me from above.  As it exploded part of it lodges in the magazine pouch on my hip and bursts into flames.  Another piece enters my left arm just above the elbow and below the bicep.  My arm aches and weakens as my sleeve becomes soaked red with blood.  I think about the flames, I am worried maybe they will cook off rounds in my magazine pouch.  What to do?  For just a second, training from elementary school flashed through my mind.  (If you are on fire, Stop, Drop, and Roll).  I imagine the enemy still firing from an elevated position getting better rounds on target\u2026on me\u2026as I roll around.  I consider taking my gear off and separating myself from the flames.  I thought it wise not to drop my flak jacket and SAPI plates (Small Arms Protective Inserts) while the shooting was going on.  I decided to take cover.  This decision cycle took about three seconds.  I turned around to run behind the corner.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I took a few steps when someone else on the other roof opened up with a burst of fire from an AK-47.  One round went in and out of my hamstring.  One went in and out of the magazine that was inserted in my rifle.  The others kicked up dirt in front and behind me.  Miraculously I didn\u2019t fall but continued around the corner and leaned against the concrete wall.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At some point I remember running past a fuel truck and watching a grenade roll under it.  As I moved past it, I continued to stare at it, as though willing it not to explode.  That was foolish, but thankfully it did not explode.  I was about to take cover against a wall there when the grenade was rolled.  As I moved on, I remember thinking \u201cnowhere is safe.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I leaned my back against the concrete wall.  Bleeding from my left arm, and right leg.  I recall stating out loud \u201cLord Jesus, help us through this fight\u201d.  It wasn\u2019t a panic-stricken plea, but rather a matter-of-fact acknowledgment of the perilous situation we were in, an awareness of how soon our lives may end, and a request for protection.  Then I returned my full attention to the situation at hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A Corpsman came running up \u201cout of nowhere\u201d.  He had not been travelling with my platoon but was from the CAAT Platoon attached to Kilo. (CAAT – Combined Anti Armor Platoon\u2026grunts with HMMWVs).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He quickly assessed my wounds and said, \u201cStaff Sergeant, I\u2019m going to have to cut your sleeve off, is that ok?\u201d  I thought that was hilarious.  He was so polite and seemed to defer to my rank.  I said, \u201cDoc, you\u2019re kind of in charge, in this type of situation, whatever you say.\u201d  He then cut my left sleeve off and begin to treat it.  A couple of the Marines were nearby taking cover on an adjacent wall.  I saw looks of mild shock on their face.  The old man is hit.<\/em> I knew I couldn\u2019t permit them to allow their minds to go there.  I asked Doc \u201cHey man\u2026how are my tattoos?\u201d  He dutifully began to examine them while applying the bandage.  \u201cI have a lot of money tied up in them.\u201d  He replied, \u201cThey look fine Staff Sergeant\u201d.  Of course, I wasn\u2019t actually<\/em> concerned with the tattoos.  Humor can have a potent effect in the direst of circumstances.  When the Marines overheard this exchange, they grinned and chuckled.  It helped them \u201csnap out of it\u201d.  I quickly followed that with tasking them. \u201cYou, cover this way, you, watch the roof\u201d, etc.  As Doc was wrapping up (literally), I heard the words that send ice through a leader\u2019s heart. \u201cCORPSMAN UP!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A block or so away the other team was in a firefight.  Sosa had been hit, Santos too.  Sosa was still a PFC (Private First Class) with less than a year in the Marine Corps.  This was the day before his nineteenth birthday.  I had travelled to Camp Pendleton the day his class graduated from the School of Infantry.  We greeted the new Marines who were bound for Kilo and put them on a bus.  I met Sosa\u2019s parents.  Before this I had never met any of the parents of my Marines.  They were understandably concerned with their son\u2019s impending deployment.  I told them with great confidence \u201cDon\u2019t worry, we\u2019ve been to Iraq before.  We know what we are doing, he is in good hands.\u201d  I\u2019ve thought about that many times over the years.  I wish I had said something different.  When Sosa, Santos, and I were medevac\u2019ed those words came back to haunt me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I told Doc \u201cGO!\u201d.  He went to their position.  The firefight that had been simultaneously occurring a block way is a story that could stand alone.  It resulted in Santos and Sosa being wounded.  A little over a year later Santos, would receive the Silver Star for his actions as a Lance Corporal that day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We established a casualty collection point in a house. We put the family in one room and maintained security on them.  There were three guys…bad guys…with rifles on the roof.  Hot brass littered the area.  We zipped-tied their hands behind them.  Doc treated Sosa and Santos.  Two Marines from the CAAT Platoon were there.  They had come running up with Doc earlier.  We had no comm with the rest of the platoon or company.  Sergeant Good from the CAAT Platoon held a GPS to my face and said, \u201cI know where we are, I\u2019m going for help\u201d.  Good plan.  I told him to wait until we had security in place on the roof to provide over watch.  Once set, he and the other Marine bounded back several blocks to link up with the company.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Santos was on the roof with half the squad.  I tried going upstairs to check on things.  I grew light-headed and the pain in my leg was searing.  I was going to have to trust the guys.  They were solid.  They dropped a guy in an adjacent courtyard who had been firing at us.  When a woman came out to drag his body inside, they raised their muzzles.  Even in the heat of battle they maintained their professionalism and their humanity.  I don\u2019t think one of them was older than twenty-three years old.  I was just shy of twenty-eight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We were holed up in the house close to three hours.  Doc was calm and cool.  Santos was up and down the stairs.  They guys were all alert and steady.  It\u2019s really amazing looking back at how they all handled themselves.  I was getting worried about being there after dark.  Night brings more uncertainty, it amplifies the chaos. Our Company Gunny came running up with some stretchers and a couple of Marines.  I looked past him down the alley and said, \u201cGunny we need a HMMWV up here.\u201d  He replied, \u201cNo-can-do, we\u2019ve got you some stretchers.\u201d  I raised my voice and looked at him in anger and frustration. \u201cWe\u2019ve got three guys hit\u2026we need a vic (vehicle)!\u201d  I will never forget this:  Gunny Fontechhio, muscular, assertive, piercing eyes\u2026leaned into me, put his hand on my shoulder, and very gently\u2026very kindly said \u201cWe can\u2019t do it buddy\u201d.  Three months later he would be killed.  I remember how calm and strong he was that day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I looked back down at the narrow alley.  The sounds of various firefights echoing throughout the city.  I understood.  No vics, roger.  As we prepared to move out, Sosa was on a stretcher.  I point and tell Santos who has shrapnel in his abdomen and shoulder, to get in another stretcher.  He looks at me and says \u201cI\u2019m good.\u201d  I raise my voice, use profanity and tell him to get in the stretcher.  He looks me in the eye and fiercely yells \u201cI\u2019m good!\u201d  When he said that a tear welled up in my eye and I grinned, \u201croger\u201d.  I had to remember that he too was a leader.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Santos knew, as I did, that getting in a stretcher means two to four Marines must carry you.  They wouldn\u2019t be able to maintain security or fire their weapons.  We were just going to have to suck it up for a few more blocks.  As they lifted Sosa\u2019s stretcher, that fighter had his rifle at the ready, providing security for the guys carrying him.  To remember that now brings such strong emotion.  He was wounded, but he was no victim.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As we bound back Doc is right beside me.  He tells me I can put my arm around him and lean on him.  \u201cNo thanks, I\u2019m good\u201d.  He shadows me.  I\u2019m not good.  When I realize that my leg is giving in and I\u2019m about to use my rifle as a cane, he swoops under my armpit and shores me up.  We bound a couple of blocks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We are back to the company lines.  Sosa and Santos are getting loaded into the back of a HMMWV.  We turn over the three enemy combatants.  I realize I am about to get medevac\u2019ed.  They tell me to get going.  The platoon is reorganizing to get back into the fight.  As I limp towards the vehicle, I stop at each one of my guys.  I give one of them two loaded magazines.  I give another one a canteen of water.  I tell Stamper he has to take the squad now that Santos is being medevac\u2019ed.  He tries to listen but is looking beyond me, back to the fight.  I tell another guy he is doing good, to stay alert.  Suddenly the CAAT Platoon Sergeant, Lasater, is in my face yelling at me.  \u201cYou need to get out of here, you are getting in the way!\u201d  Rage rises inside me and my eyes fill with tears.  My guys are headed back into the fight, and I am leaving.  Before I can respond with anger, his words soften as he reads my mind.  \u201cWe\u2019ll keep an eye on them, you\u2019ve got good Marines, but we\u2019ve got work to do, and you need to go.\u201d I nod my head and get into the front seat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Our Company Executive Officer, the \u201cXO\u201d, 1st<\/sup> Lt Salcido, is driving the HMMWV to the LZ (Landing Zone).  It\u2019s not far.  I tell him to keep an eye on my Platoon Commander, on Sergeant Tanner, on Third Platoon.  He says \u201cI\u2019ve got you Walkie. Your boys are solid.\u201d  Then he tells me \u201cI love you\u201d followed by an expletive, a compound word some consider an insult, but here used as a term of affection.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We are waiting on the helo now.  A Corpsman offers me some morphine, but I decline.  The pain is pretty bad, but I am afraid of being high in the event we come under attack.  I must wait.  A few yards away there are five Marines laid out under ponchos.  There are gone.  Their fight is over.  One of them was the Lima Company Commander.  He had a wife and four kids.  We live on the same street back in 29 Palms.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When the Army Blackhawk lands Sosa and Santos are carried out in stretchers.  I am limping my way to the bird as fast as I can.  I big crew chief yells at me to hurry up, pumping his fist in the air signaling \u201cdouble time\u201d.   I\u2019m only a few steps away when he rushes at me, grabs me by one arm, and one leg tossing me into the bird.  I tumble in on my head.  I don\u2019t think he intended to grab the wounded arm and leg, but he did.  I laugh out loud at the irony of it.  I grab my rifle to make sure it didn\u2019t get lost in the tumble.  I lean in and yell at Santos and Sosa checking to see if they still have accountability of their weapons.  They check and give me a thumbs up.  The helo takes off.  As it banks around to head back to the FRSS (Forward Resuscitative Surgery System)\u2026the aid station\u2026at the Battalion Command Post in Al Qa\u2019im, I look down.  I can see Third Platoon and the rest of Kilo Company moving out, heading back into the city, back into he fight.  Guilt floods me.  I set my jaw, but the tears fill my eyes.  I\u2019m being medevac\u2019ed.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Prelude to the medevac The world gets very small when someone is shooting at you.\u00a0 The most disturbing aspect of the ordeal is not knowing where the fire is coming from, it is the source of the greatest anxiety.\u00a0 Once the enemy\u2019s location is identified a combination of anger and pursuit set in, a singular…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-373","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/takeitontheleftfoot.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/373","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/takeitontheleftfoot.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/takeitontheleftfoot.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/takeitontheleftfoot.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/takeitontheleftfoot.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=373"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/takeitontheleftfoot.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/373\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":784,"href":"https:\/\/takeitontheleftfoot.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/373\/revisions\/784"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/takeitontheleftfoot.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=373"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/takeitontheleftfoot.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=373"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/takeitontheleftfoot.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=373"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}