Lest We Forget
Page 13
I realize that the question that he was asking was strictly rhetorical and he didn't really want any of us to say a damn thing. His eyes get even bigger as he focuses them directly at my soul.
"...1SG, we were only doing what we were trained to do, we were looking after another Ranger."
He takes a deep breath in. He wants to destroy me right now but I can see in his eyes that he knows that I am right. "GET THE FUCK OUT!!" He yells.
We don't hesitate. The three of us scurry for the door the way a dog does when it's been kicked in the ass for shitting on the rug. We get back to the aid station and call Nathan, he doesn't answer. He's probably sleeping. What a shit head. At least he doesn't have to walk around the rest of the day with a boot print on his face.
….
Just a few weeks later it would be my turn to say goodbye to this chapter in my life. Like my first return from overseas there was no ceremony. Everyone was busy preparing for another training event. There was no going away party when my time came. My platoon sergeant, a man who I have a world of respect for joked that I was always getting over when there was work to do. I told him that it had been an honor being his medic and shook his hand. I walked back into my aid station for the last time to hang my dog tags from the ceiling along side each of the medics that had left before me and walked out the door without anyone noticing.
….
An End Note
I had visited 46 states and drank a beer in every one of them. I conducted hundreds of real world missions as a special operations medic, some good, some bad but everyone a learning experience. I helped some men to live while taking the lives of others. I was trusted with the health and well being of our nations heroes. I learned more about myself in a couple of years than most men will in a lifetime. I lost friends and gained tattoos and scars. The confidence that I would take away from this experience is, to this day, my most valuable character trait; it is also what alienates me from most people. Most importantly I worked side by side with the best men of our generation. Men that would have no doubt fought beside Leonidas at Thermopylae had they been born 2,500 years sooner. These men are the greatest hope of our generation. They are altruism, they are benevolence. They are terror in the hearts of the enemy. They are blue collar farmers and college graduates, doctors and business owners. They are fathers, brothers, and sons. They have carried the burden of our nation. They are my friends, my brothers, and forever will be.
More cool guy pictures:
The high-speed life of a Ranger medic! This was inside the aid station where Dave, Dano, Smith, Matt N., Lewis, John G. and the other medics of Charlie Company spent most of our time.
Flying someplace cool to do something badass in Afghanistan.
Me, Jess, and Matt Ranger school graduation.
Some of the medics from C-Co 3/75 a couple of weeks before I got out in October 2006.
Waiting for ammo to show up at a range in Ft. Benning. The younger enlisted went head to head in wacky bat races to entertain the NCO’s. 20 spins then a 40-meter sprint to the closest tree.
This is why our AO was referred to as “The Zoo,” constant shenanigans. It wasn’t uncommon for a full on no holds barred fight to break out.
Fast rope training in Bagram, 2005.
Oh, it’s your birthday? Salerno, Afghanistan. Winter 2004.
The lighter side of war. Afghanistan. Winter of 2004.
Nicky P. and I being ninjas during training on Ft. Benning, Georgia.
I would like to give a special thanks to everyone that helped out during the writing/editing process…
~Marty and Blackside Concepts for providing direction and allowing me an outlet for my drunk rambling on Hit the Woodline.
~Jack Murphy and the guys at SOFREP publishing a couple of my stories, ultimately giving me the courage to write this book.
~Lindsay for editing this thing in what must have been world record time.
~Brian for providing several pictures, including the cover
~Nasty Nate for sending that zip drive with all the pictures and videos of our time in Iraq that helped my memory.
~Michael, Jack, Christina, Mark, Nick, Gwen, Jess and everyone else that read the very rough draft and gave me feedback.
~Alexander for providing the accounts of our encounter with Hamadi Tahki.
~ Jameson Irish whiskey for providing the liquid courage to tell stories that I’ve spent the better part of a decade trying to forget.
~My dad, Bruce. For teaching me that it’s “cheshire cat” ….among other things.
Table of Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Foreword
Chapter 1- Cuts Marked in the March of Men
Chapter 2 - The Hard Sell
Chapter 3 -FAR
Chapter 4 - The Running Free
Chapter 5 - Cuts Marked in the March of Men
Chapter 6 - Time Consumer
Chapter 7 - Welcome Home
Chapter 8 - Away We Go
Chapter 9 - When Skeletons Live
Chapter 10 - Grave makers and Gunslingers
Chapter 11 - There Will be Justice in Murder
Chapter 12 - Delirium Trigger
Chapter 13 - The Broken
An End Note