03 July 2007

DIGIJOURNAL 020--2 JULY 2007

DATELINE 2JUL07 PATROL BASE PALIWODA

COURAGE
As a chaplain, one of the things that I do on a far too regular basis is visit our soldiers who come in on the medevac flights to the CASH (the acronym for a forward emergency room hospital). There, one can experience the entire gamut of human emotions from outright grief to humor. What follows are some highlights that I remember now that we are ten months into the deployment.


  • A route clearance soldier was admitted to the CASH with wounds received from an RPG (rocket propelled grenade) attack. The RPG hit the windshield but did not penetrate. Unfortunately, it did cause debris from the windshield to eject into this trooper’s face. (Note: this debris is called spall, which is the source of most wounds our soldiers sustain over here--not the fragments that come from the exploding ordnance.) The soldier came out of his amnesia induced with over a hundred stitches in his face. The first thing he tells his platoon sergeant is that now he feels he can go to the promotion board, since he will receive some more promotion points from his purple heart. He also asks us if the fragments damaged any of his tattoos, and we all comment that his facial scars will make him look manlier to the ladies. When the joking goes away, we pray for his recovery and for all those who are working to heal him, closing with a prayer for his unborn child.

  • Several months ago, one of our soldiers came into the CASH with very severe wounds. It was a tough visit for all of us, especially the first sergeant and the company commander. One of the most moving things I have seen over here is how much our leaders genuinely care about those they lead. Now, we can all be pains in the rear when it comes to standards, personality quirks, and just plain getting along, but, when the bullets fly and people go down, it is those very same leaders that can drive so many crazy that now must bear the greatest burdens. They always struggle with the fact that they were the ones that sent the now-wounded into combat. And, as they watch the doctors work on their soldiers, the second-guessing game begins. I hope that one of the things I get across to our leaders is that it is not their fault that we are here or that we must face danger to do our job. A medic asked me once if he would ever get over the changes he has experienced while serving in a combat zone, treating the severely wounded on both the American and Iraqi sides. I was honest and told him that none of us would get back to what we were, and it was up to our own relationship with God to determine if these changes would make us better or worse men.

  • The most chilling reception I ever had when I entered the CASH was when I came to visit three wounded soldiers from another battalion. Their patrol was hit by two IEDs (improvised explosive devices), leaving five of their buddies dead and one of the three severely wounded. As I entered the CASH, a call came over the loud speaker for anyone with type A blood to report immediately to the donation room. Having type A, I and about twenty others made our way to make our donation. They were putting the blood into the wounded soldier as quickly as it was bleeding out of him.

  • The most humorous story has to do with one of our soldiers who received a slight wound that nonetheless required that he stay at the CASH for a couple of days. Being an infantryman, he already smelled ripe when they brought him into the emergency room. The ER is no place for the bashful, for the staff usually picks out the prettiest and youngest nurse to cut off all your clothes in order to inspect any wounds. This soldier had a piece of shrapnel take a small chunk out of his thigh, so he spent a good part of the day in his birthday suit getting treated. It was not long before even he began to grow tired of his stink, so he gathered the courage to request a sponge-bath, hoping to draw one of the many attractive nurses who work in the hospital. His hopes rose when one of those said nurses agreed with his idea. What he did not see was when she mentioned his request to the biggest, burliest guy in the ward who also happened to be a nurse’s aid. The last time we spoke about his experience, I think he would have preferred staying dirty.

SUPPORT SPOTLIGHT
AGAPE SISTERS, Hawaii

Last month this group of ladies who meet for Bible study and prayer sent thirty boxes to our soldiers. The Agape sisters hail from the great island of Hawaii. The soldiers appreciated all that they sent, and we all were able to daydream about what it would be like to be on the sand there instead of in the sand here.

Gratia et Veritas,
Warhorse Archangel