Thankfully, he remained stable and breathing on his own and after an hour of monitoring him, he was evacuated on the next flight out along with my friend, Hanifi. After another hour, the final bird came and the remaining, most stable patients were loaded… along with Rod. I watched as they carried Rod’s body out of the clinic and onto the helicopter. It was the last time I would ever see him. As they were securing him on the gurney, Becky and I were standing in the clinic pharmacy. We looked at each other and closed the door. We instantly grabbed each other and shed our first tears of the night. Our friend was dead. Our boys were wounded, some of them critically. I began questioning everything. Did I do enough? What could I have done differently? Why did this happen? Why are we even here in this country? Why did I have to witness something so horrible? As we held each other I remembered Eric. Initially, when all of the vehicles were coming in the gate under fire Roy yelled to me, “Don’t forget about Eric!” but he had been on the roof for the past four hours on the radio calling CAS and directing the medevac birds. I gathered supplies and went up to the OpCen to treat him.
As I opened the door to the OpCen I saw Ben and Kyle standing there. They both were facing the door with an indescribable look in their eyes. They had made it back on one of the medevac flights. It was so good to see them, yet it was the worst way I could have imagined to be reunited. I gave them both a hug and no words were spoken; there was no need. I quickly headed up to the roof to see Eric.
“Eric, you ready for me to take a look at your wounds?”
“Yeah, I just need to finish this up,” he said as he finished writing in his log what had transpired with the flights. After four hours he was still in his full gear; flak vest, weapon, ammo, and radios. All of which easily weighed 50-60 pounds; he did his job so selflessly. I was in absolute awe of the character he displayed that night. I ended up getting an x-ray of his leg because I was concerned he might have a large piece of shrapnel stuck in it, but thankfully he didn’t. I did pull out several large pieces from his shoulder. I cleaned up the rest of his wounds and I stapled a laceration on another guy’s head together and I was finally done treating patients.
I went to my room, collapsed in my chair and began to sob. This was the worst day of my life. Becky and I sat in silence and soon there was a knock on the door.
“Hey guys, are you ok? I just wanted to check on you,” Roy said.
“Thanks,” we said.
“Do you want to talk?” he asked.
“No,” I said. There was nothing to say. We just sat and cried together. Eventually Becky and I decided to take showers. I looked at my legs and realized that not only my shoes were covered in blood, but I had blood all over my clothes and legs. I knew I could wash it off, but nothing could wash away the images in my mind.
After I showered, Roy offered to let me use his satellite phone to call Greg. As much as I didn’t want to tell my husband about what happened, to prevent him from worrying, I knew I had to. He was the only thing that could make me feel better. I took Roy up on his offer and went up to the roof to be alone with my husband. As soon as I heard his voice I lost it. I cried and cried. He was so good and just let me cry. “Nej, sweetie, I don’t know what happened, but I love you so much.”
“Rod’s….dead….he’s dead…” I managed between my sobs. I couldn’t even imagine what must have been going through his head during the conversation. I couldn’t tell him very much detail at all, and what I could tell him probably scared the shit out of him, but he never let it show. He was my rock, which was what I needed at that moment.
After about thirty minutes we hung up. I went to my room and tried to sleep, but couldn’t. I looked at the clock and it was 0130. For the first time in my life I took a Valium to knock myself out. At 0300 there was another knock on the door. It was Kyle.
“So, I need you guys to give me the details of all of the patients and their injuries,” he said.
“What? Why?” I asked in my foggy haze of Valium and sadness.
“I need to log everything,” he lied. It was so draining to have to go through the details again and likely very unnecessary. It was just Kyle being Kyle…just plain shitty. I was too tired to fight him, so I gave him what he wanted. As I recounted the day’s events I truly felt numb. I had no more emotion to spare after the day was over, and after reliving the entire event again and he had all of the information he “needed,” I fell asleep, and slept until 1100.
3 September 2008
I woke up very somber. As I got dressed, the previous day’s events played over and over in my head. When I walked out to brush my teeth, I saw Rod’s blood soaked helmet and M4 rifle lying on a table just outside my room. I suddenly felt nauseous and got away from the reminder of his death as quickly as possible. On my way back up to my room I saw his dog Jacko and my tears returned; he looked so lost, pacing back and forth looking for his master. I felt as lost as he did, unsure of how to proceed through the remainder of the day. I soon realized no one had planned a memorial, so I took it upon myself to make it happen. As I was making my list of the things I needed to accomplish, in order to have the memorial, Roy came by, “Hey guys, how’re you feeling?” he asked.
“Numb,” I answered and Becky agreed.
“Listen, I didn’t want to tell you this, but Kyle tasked you guys to inventory Rod’s things. They need to go out on the next ring flight,” Becky and I instantly started to cry.
“Are you freaking serious Roy?” Becky asked, “Don’t you think that is a little out of line considering how good of friends we were?”
“I’m not surprised honestly,” I added, “Anything Kyle can do to make things harder on us, he’ll do.”
“Listen, don’t worry. I know how close you guys were so I already handled it. I just wanted you to be aware,” Roy assured.
“Thank you, that really means a lot. I don’t think we could handle it today,” I said. Just the thought of that task took away any emotional strength I had recovered from the limited amount of sleep from the night before.
“No problem at all, I’m here for you guys,” he said.
“We’re here for you too Roy, we all need each other as we deal with this,” Becky said. We gave him a hug and he went on his way. I found it difficult to concentrate. I wanted to honor him properly at the memorial. I had to find his boots, dog tags, rifle, helmet….did someone clean it? Thankfully, after realizing no one had, and seeing how upset I was, Roy took care of it. I had to find a picture, his family’s names, Jacko’s leash….would anyone speak? Would I have to? As the day went on I asked numerous people for assistance in putting it together and became incredibly angry because no one would help, not even Becky. I knew she didn’t because she couldn’t handle it, but I wasn’t so sure I could either. I managed to get it all together and at the last minute Curtis took the reins and spoke. We all dressed in our full uniforms and at 1530 hours we said goodbye to Greg Rodriguez. At the memorial Jacko paced the room constantly until he stopped at Rod’s shoes and helmet, smelling them. He continued to search for Rod and smell his boots throughout the remainder of the ceremony. At the end I took a knee in front of his things, said a prayer for him, kissed my hand and touched his helmet saying my last goodbye.
I did feel a sense of closure in having paid him the tribute; I knew he was in a better place and God would watch over his wife and children. I later learned the details of his death. After Jay was shot, the team began taking heavy fire. Rod took it upon himself to protect his comrade by shielding him from the gunfire. While he was protecting him he was shot in the back of the head and died instantly; a hero.
After the memorial service I went down and cleaned and restocked the clinic in preparation for the next day. As I cleaned the rest of the blood off of the beds and the equipment my heart broke all over again for all of the guys. I found myself trying not to dwell on the horrific reality of what happened; instead, I tried to focus on the beauty of the night that had been overlooked. It was truly moving how everyone came t
ogether as one to help deal with the horror we all faced. Even the local nationals working on the firebase as cooks and laborers were there helping clean that night, without anyone asking them to. Every soldier who was able to help was down at the clinic lending a hand. Ordinary people had done extraordinary things. It was truly amazing.
I learned from that night that life is precious. We all say that, but I understood the depth of it after that experience. I was thankful for every moment I had and the love I had been blessed with in my life. I knew I was there seeing and experiencing all of this for a reason, I trusted that. I prayed for the strength to get through the rest of the deployment and to get home safely. I knew I’d changed through this experience; I prayed the change was all for the better and my experiences would give me the strength to endure the life ahead of me.
The men involved in the mass casualty all made it. Hanifi and Sola later returned to the firebase after Becky and I left. The Aussies all recovered, the soldier shot in the abdomen sustained the most critical wounds but survived. Jay suffered from a broken ulna (arm bone) and underwent surgery and they were able to recover the bullet in his shoulder. Rod was buried at Arlington National Cemetery and his final wishes were granted; Jacko was flown out on the next ring flight and was retired to the Rodriquez family.
I have included an article that was printed in the Washington Post after Rod’s burial, in honor of his memory:
By Mark Berman
Courtesy of The Washington Post
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
When early reports suggested that Gregory A. Rodriguez was a hero who took a bullet that would have struck another soldier, those who knew him probably weren’t surprised. He was committed and loyal, someone who could be counted on whenever he was needed, those who knew him said.
Yesterday, Sergeant First Class Rodriguez was honored for his sacrifice in services at Arlington National Cemetery. Rodriguez, 35, of Weidman, Michigan, died September 2, 2008, of wounds suffered in Ana Kalay, Afghanistan, when his mounted patrol came under small arms fire.
His wife, Laura M. Rodriguez, told the Morning Sun of Mount Pleasant, Michigan, that he wanted his final resting place to be Arlington.
“I asked Greg if anything ever happened to him where he’d prefer to be buried, and he told me Arlington, as he wanted to be among the best and the brave,” she said.
Rodriguez was the 501st member of the military killed in Iraq or Afghanistan to be buried at Arlington. He was assigned to the K-9 unit of the 527th Military Police Company, 709th Military Police Battalion, 18th MP Brigade, based at Ansbach, Germany.
More than 100 mourners stood before a backdrop of floral arrangements and wreaths to pay tribute to Rodriguez. They joined members of the 3rd U.S. Infantry Regiment from Fort Myer who waited at the gravesite along with four dogs from the same regiment.
A chaplain, Major David Baum, welcomed mourners and talked about the white tombstones around them and the sacrifice they represented, weaving Rodriguez into that tapestry. Rodriguez was buried in Section 60 of the cemetery, along with many other casualties of Iraq and Afghanistan.
Rodriguez’s wife and his mother, Virginia Richardson, received flags from Brig. General Jeffrey Phillips.
Rodriguez graduated from Mount Pleasant High School in 1991 and joined the Army Reserve three years later, his wife told the paper. He went on full-time active duty in December 1996, and she said they were stationed in places as far-flung as Hawaii, Missouri, Alaska, Texas and Germany.
Rodriguez, a military police dog handler, was part of a special search team with his dog, Jacko. The dog survived the attack in Ana Kalay, and Laura Rodriguez said she hopes Jacko will be released to the family.
“He was Greg’s best companion for the past couple of years,” she said. “He’d been sleeping with Greg every night since they landed in Afghanistan.”
Greg and Laura Rodriguez were married in Honolulu in 1999 and have three young children. “Greg is the best dad, a loving husband and an awesome soldier who loved being able to train and handle his K9 companions,” she said.
Rodriguez was a Detroit Red Wings fan who enjoyed hassling other hockey fans, she said. He was “a very committed, loyal individual,” but he also had a special sense of humor.
“Greg loved to push everyone’s buttons and get people going with his rare, unique sense of sarcasm,” Laura Rodriguez said.
Rodriguez’s sister told the Detroit News that her brother was committed to keeping order. “My brother liked to be the law,” Lisa Dombrowski said. “He liked justice. If it wasn’t right, he made it right.”
She said her brother was so skilled at training military dogs that he was given the most difficult ones, and that when other trainers couldn’t get a dog in shape, it would be sent to Rodriguez. And she said he usually got the job done.
CHAPTER 35
Day 129
My Grieving
5 September 2008
The days after the mass casualty were slow. Everyone seemed to need the time to recoup, including me. I did see patients the day after, but after clinic was over I kept to myself for my own grieving process. A flight came in and we all said our goodbyes to the remainder of our Aussie friends and Jacko. I was sad to see the Aussies go, they were a great group of guys and I would never forget working with Will. He was an absolute stellar medic and an outstanding soldier. It was also hard saying goodbye to the dog. We had all grown to love him as part of the family. He loved working with Rod, and it showed. I will never forget how he would carry his harness in his mouth before a mission because he was so excited. It was interesting to see the notable change in his behavior after Rod’s death. He seemed lost; desperately searching for his master.
Thankfully, when the Chinook came in it was carrying six new team guys to help augment the firebase. They had been in place at a different firebase, as part of a different ODA team, but were able to come and lend a hand. We had lost so many people to injuries; the team was down to five Special Forces members from the original ten. The new guys seemed nice and I was sure they would fit in well, but I didn’t have much interest in getting to know them. I found I was slowly distancing myself from the team and the other people on the firebase as a defensive mechanism. I felt homesick and completely worn down emotionally.
The Chinook also brought back one of the Aussies from the team that had been medevac’d with minor injuries. He was Sarbi’s (the Australian bomb dog) handler; during the ambush Sarbi went missing and they were unable to find her before they left. Because she was a bomb dog a lot of money had been invested in her training, but she was also a part of their team and they wanted to do everything in their power to bring her home. Of course they feared the worst; that she too was killed in action like Rod.
After clinic I was searching the internet and saw the story of what happened on September 2nd had made international news in both America and Australia. Seeing this reminder of the severity of what happened, I sunk even lower into my grief. But in my moments of solitude after that horrible day, I began to realize how important it was for me to tell the story of these men and their sacrifices. It saddened me to know that we, the citizens of the United States, had little to no idea what actually goes on in war and we should. The things that used to stress me out seemed so petty now. I remembered the “girly girl” I was; someone who was so scared to get off the plane at Bagram Airfield in April, a place that now seemed like a sanctuary compared to the firebase. I realized over the course of my deployment I’d grown leaps and bounds as a person.
CHAPTER 36
Day 132
New Hope
8 September 2008
This was a much needed good day for me. Clinic was actually a positive experience; far from the norm I had grown to expect. For the first time I saw a husband who appeared to genuinely care for and love his wife. She was seven months pregnant and complaining of low back pain. After ensuring she was not in labor I talked with them about the low back pain that can come with pregnancy. A
s I gave them educational information on how to relieve her pain, I realized they probably had never seen anyone before for prenatal care. “Would you like to listen to the baby’s heartbeat?” I asked. I watched their eyes light up with excitement as they heard the interpreter translate my question. They both nodded enthusiastically. They held hands as I put the gel on her belly and put the Doppler on her skin. At that moment the baby kicked and I watched the man squeeze his wife’s hand. When I located the baby’s heartbeat I watched them both smile from ear to ear. What a huge moment it must have been for them both, especially considering the region we were in and its lack of medical care. They both thanked me profusely for the rare opportunity.
As I walked the couple out of the clinic, I saw an old man with two walking canes, his ankles splinted in permanent braces suggestive of a neurological disease such as cerebral palsy or a similar condition. As I walked up to him I said “Shalom (Hello in Dari),” as I did with every patient.
And much to my surprise he replied back in English, “Good morning, how are you doctor?”
“Well! Good morning to you sir!” I said, pleasantly surprised to hear him speak English, as I always was with any patient there I could speak directly to. We talked about his medical complaint, which was an infection in his prostate and when I finished discussing the treatment plan with him, I asked, “Is there anything else I can do for you today?”
166 Days: My Journey Through The Darkness Page 18