by JL Curtis
He thought he called it in, but his thumb slipped off the mic. He felt dizzy all of a sudden and slumped back against the wall. He started hearing pops of M-4 fire, and he jumped when an A-10 came over at damn near roof top level. The A-10 was low enough that he smelled the burned jet fuel after it went over. Looking up, he saw a flash, and picked up an A-10 in a steep dive, and saw a dusting of smoke on its nose. A second later the deep burring sound of the GAU-9 firing reached him, closely followed by hearing the impacts of the rounds. He just hoped McKenzie had gotten the right GRG.
Doc Wells was looking at him and suddenly Aaron felt tired, he tried to lift his M-4, but it felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. He didn’t hear any more AKs firing, and the mini-gun stopped along with the M-4s. Johnson came up on the radio and said they had four injured survivors from the two technicals, but Aaron could hardly hear him. And it was getting dark, must be clouds rolling in.
The last thing he saw, as he passed out, was Doc looking anxiously at him.
Doc Wells yelled for help as more Marines poured into the street. Two of the Marines dropped their weapons onto their slings and picked up Aaron in a fireman’s lift, only to watch Aaron’s left boot stay on the ground. The first Marine threw up, but Doc yelled for them to go. Reaching down he picked up the boot with Aaron’s foot still in it, and saw a bloody unexploded RPG round lying where Aaron had been. He yelled to Johnson to demo it and hustled after Aaron. Getting back to the main street, they loaded Aaron into the back of a GMV and rushed back down the street toward the FOB as McKenzie frantically jumped on the radio to the TOC.
A choppy voice came over the radio from a helo, saying they were sitting on the pad at the FOB if a medevac was needed. Doc heard that and nodded. “Sooner, rather than later. See if they can meet us at the rise just after the wadi. Tell em we need plasma, Hextend, Lactated Ringers or normal saline, whatever they can get quick. If they don’t have a medic aboard, I’ll load with them.”
Doc looked down at Aaron and hit him in the chest, “Damn you, Gunny, you better not die on me, you sunnabitch!” He threw a blood pressure cuff on the other arm, and guessed at the pressures, since there was no way to hear over the radios and noise of the GMV. Feeling for a pulse, he decided Aaron still had one, but it was weak and thready and that wasn’t good. He could see the chest rising and falling slowly, as he got the IV started and started rolling a bag of Lactated Ringers in, but that was about the extent of what he could do other than pray for now.
Ten minutes later, they crested out of the wadi and found the helo there, blades slowly chopping the air. Rushing to the helo with Aaron again in a fireman’s carry, they dumped him on the canvas seats, as the doc ran to the helo carrying Aaron’s boot. The crew chief dragged Doc in too, and he heard the blades spool up and the crew chief handed him a medical bag and a headset. Doc put the headset on and heard, “Light on the gear, we’re direct Herat with two pax. One injured and the other is your corpsman.”
The TOC rogered up and Doc heard Captain Ragsdale say, “Pass to Doc, we’ll be okay ‘til he can get back. Doc Tuttle from Delta will support both teams.” Wells gave the crew chief a thumb’s up then went to work on Aaron.
Ripping open the medical bag, Doc found two bags of Hextend and one of normal saline. Quickly rigging a large bore IV in the other arm, he started the Hextend and handed it to the crew chief telling him to squeeze it in. He finished the bag of Ringers, put the saline on a normal drip, and started trying to get a good blood pressure. By putting his stethoscope under the headset, he could finally hear and got a good BP and respirations. He also finally got a good pulse and it scared him. Digging in the bag, he realized he’d forgotten his in the GMV, and this one had no drugs. He finally took the IV back from the crew chief and continued to squeeze the Hextend into Aaron as the helo thumped south at its maximum speed. Finishing the first pint, he quickly changed to the second bag and let it run normally. Checking Aaron out, he slapped quickclot bandages on another wound he found in the right bicep. He bandaged that one, and found one more through and through on the right thigh. He used the last bandage on it and said another prayer that Aaron would live.
Doc finally slumped back wearily, keeping a hand on Aaron’s wrist as he looked tiredly around the helo. The crew chief gave him a thumb’s up, thumb’s down signal and doc waggled his hand. The crew chief nodded and Doc heard him on the headset. “Captain, it looks like the Marine is still alive, but I don’t think he’s doing real well.”
The captain answered, “Roger, we’re ten minutes out. There should be an ambulance meeting us and a doctor and nurses. Guess it’s lucky we were doing a parts run when this went down.”
Bagram
Doc gave the crew chief a thumb’s up, and took another round of blood pressure, respirations and pulse as they descended rapidly into the compound at Herat. As the helo touched down, Doc got ready to unload Aaron, but was stopped by Commander Allen, the flight surgeon, jumping aboard with a full medical kit. He yelled to Doc that a C-130 was waiting at the airport to transport Aaron to Bagram and Craig Joint Theater Hospital. The pilot spooled the helo back up and lifted quickly into the air as Doc briefed Commander Allen on Aaron’s status. After a quick ten minute flight, the helo landed next to a Marine C-130 with two engines turning.
Aaron was quickly transferred to the C-130 and both the Doc and Commander Allen starting doing what they could to keep Aaron alive for the forty-five-minute flight to Bagram. Doc Wells put Aaron’s boot and foot in a trash bag and stowed it on top of the ice in the ice chest for the trip. Commander Allen yelled at the crew chief to get a headset and connect them to the radio, then shoved it at Doc, telling him to give a status to Craig.
The crew chief ran forward and pulled another headset and long cord back with him, telling Doc he was hooked up and handed him the headset and press to talk switch. Doc put it on, pushed the PTT and said, “Craig, this is—this is an inbound injury report.”
He heard a scratchy voice say, “Go ahead with injury report. Marine coming in from FOB correct?”
Feeling surer of himself, Doc pressed the PTT continuing, “Correct, Marine Gunny, Miller, Aaron. FOB Apache. Blunt trauma amputation of lower left leg, midpoint of tib and fib. CAT applied on scene. Multiple GSW[23]s, left and right biceps, upper right thigh. All entries anterior to posterior. Two units of Hextend, one unit Ringers, one unit of normal saline pushed thus far. Patient is O positive, confirmed.” He looked over Commander Allen’s shoulder reading off the BP, pulse, respiration, O2 sats, and other information as Commander Allen worked on Aaron.
An hour later, a little over three hours after Aaron had been shot, he was in the operating room at Craig and the surgical team were debriding the injury site, and after one look at the injury, deciding there was no way to save the lower leg.
Doc Wells was slumped outside the OR when he recognized the nurse coming out of the OR with the trash bag he’d delivered to them. He looked at her and she shook her head. Doc stood up with a groan, “Ma’am, what are you going to do with the foot?”
The nurse replied, “It’s going to be properly taken care of.”
“Ma’am, can I get Gunny’s dog tag off the boot?” Doc asked. “I know he’ll want it back.”
The nurse thought for a minute then nodded. “Come with me.” And led the doc down to a smaller lab space. Gently setting the trash bag on the lab table, she carefully opened it and peeled the bag down so that the laces and dog tag were visible. She stepped back and Doc took out his Benchmade, slicing gently through the laces. He pulled the dog tag free and scrubbed it off on his pant leg, mumbling to himself as he folded the knife and stuck it back on his pocket. The nurse asked him to repeat, and Doc replied, “Oh, I was just saying Gunny was going to be pissed because these were his new boots.” He laughed softly. Suddenly the dam broke and he was sobbing over the table.
The nurse came quietly up behind him and rubbed his shoulder saying, “Hey, you got him here alive. You more than did your job. We’re go
ing to patch him up, maybe not as good as new, but he is going to live! That is thanks to you.” Leading him to an office chair she said, “Here, sit down for a few minutes and I’ll get you a cup of coffee.”
***
Back in Herat, a scramble ensued as the battalion commander was on the radio to Captain Ragsdale trying to figure out what had happened, get an AAR[24], and at the same time get an update from Craig Hospital. Captain Ragsdale was still dealing with the aftermath of the battle and taking statements from the Marines that had been on scene.
***
Sergeant McKenzie finished writing his statement and walked slowly over to the TOC, knocked and entered on command. Coming slowly to attention, he handed his statement to Ragsdale saying, “Captain, the gunny saved our asses out there! It happened so quick I don’t think any of us got off over four, maybe five rounds before it was all over. I saw him go down, and I thought sure as hell he was dead. If he hadn’t been so close, that RPG would have got him for sure. Thankfully, it didn’t even arm.” The captain nodded and McKenzie asked tentatively, “Any word on how Gunny’s doing? I mean-”
Ragsdale sighed. “Mac, all I know right now is he was alive when they got him to Bagram. I don’t know what the current status is. As soon as we find out anything, we’ll let you know.” Ragsdale was interrupted by the comms sergeant saying that Colonel Johnson was on the radio and wanted to talk to him again. Ragsdale stood slowly, dismissed McKenzie and headed over to the communications rack to see what the colonel wanted.
***
“Colonel, any word on Gunny Miller?” came through the speaker and the colonel looked over his shoulder at the medical officer.
The medical officer nodded. “Just got off the phone with Commander Allen. He’s going to live, but he lost the left foot and part of the calf. They couldn’t save it. Miller will be on the night flight to Landstuhl for treatment and forwarding. Allen and Doc Baker are coming back on the rotator tonight.
“Rags, did you hear that?” the colonel asked.
“Roger sir, that’s good news. Have we activated the casualty notification chain yet?”
“Negative, that’s the next thing on my list, now that we know Gunny is at least alive.”
***
Doc flopped down in the chair and buried his head in his shaking hands, letting the events of the last four hours run through his mind. A couple of minutes later, Commander Allen came in carrying two cups of coffee. As Doc started to come to attention, Allen waved him off saying, “Sit. Here’s your coffee. I’m going to join you, and then we need to get back to the bird. Gunny Miller is going to live!”
Allen sat down with a sigh. “They’re pumping him full of blood, and his BP and other vitals have come back okay. I’m sorry, the surgeons can’t save the leg, but with that much trauma, and missing it looks like at least two inches of bone, it’s just not possible. They’re trying to decide how much surgery to do, because they want to get him on the bird tonight to Germany. Did you see any other injuries? ”
Doc took a sip of coffee and finally said, “Other than the ones we already worked on? No, I didn’t pop his vest, but I could see where he’d taken some hits in the plate. I felt down under his T-shirt, but didn’t get any blood so I let it go. I was more worried about getting enough fluids in him to keep him alive. I can’t believe that leg injury! I thought it was all there. Guess I assumed- Ah hell, I don’t know what I assumed. Shit, shit, shit. Three more damn days and we were out of this shithole.”
Allen nodded in sympathy. “Yeah, I know. They’re cleaning up the major injury site now. I don’t know how much they’ll do on the GSWs. They may just clean and bandage and load him for Landstuhl tonight. He’ll probably have about four, maybe five inches below the knee when it’s all said and done. I just got off the phone with Colonel Howard, and he wants us back tonight on the rotator.”
Laying a hand on Wells’ shoulder, Allen continued, “You did a helluva job Petty Officer Wells. If you hadn’t reacted like you did, the Gunny would be dead now. Regardless of what else happens, you done good!”
Wells nodded silently as he continued to sip the now lukewarm cup of coffee slowly.
Two hours later, they caught a ride back to Bagram for the rotator back to Herat. As they started walking out to the C-130, Wells saw the ambulances start pulling up next to the C-17 that was heading to Ramstein. He realized he still had Gunny’s dog tag in his pocket. Pulling it out, he showed it to Commander Allen and trotted quickly over to the C-17.
Stepping up on the ramp, he walked slowly forward until a female Air Force captain stopped him asking, “What are you doing on here?
Doc said, “I need to know if Gunny- Gunnery Sergeant Miller has been brought aboard yet.”
“Why?”
“I was the medic that brought him in, and I need to get a dogtag to him.”
The captain said, “Yes, he’s loaded and he’s my patient to Landstuhl. Why do you have one of his dog tags?”
“Can I see him?”
She led him forward to where Gunny was in the middle of a three-rack stack, “Where did the dog tag come from?”
Doc looked at Aaron lying on the stretcher dirty faced and pale, hooked up to multiple tubes and monitors with a respirator breathing for him and said, “I cut it off the boot that had his other foot in it. The one they couldn’t save.” Handing the dog tag to her he asked, “Can you make sure it gets back to him? Please?”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“Thanks, ma’am. Guess I better go. Gotta get back in the field.” With that, Doc turned and trotted off the C-17 and over to the C-130.
An hour later, Commander Allen poked Doc Wells. “We’re here. I’m thinking you’ll probably need to stay here tonight. I’m pretty sure HQ is going to want a debrief.”
Doc nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ll go check in and see if they’ve got a bunk for me. Ah, crap, I don’t have anything with me. Maybe I can get a uniform out of the lucky bag.”
***
The next morning, Doc Wells gave Colonel Johnson and associated others his version of what happened and answered questions for almost an hour. Doc was finally released and he wandered over to the coffee mess and grabbed a cup of coffee. He saw one of the medevac crewmen walking across the sidewalk and ran out to grab him. “Hey, do you know how I can get back up to the FOB? Y’all brought me down here yesterday.”
The crewman looked at his watch. “Yeah, we’re launching back up that way in about an hour. Same spot on the ramp.”
Doc ran back to the headquarters, and asked the major if he could go back to the FOB. The major stuck his head in the colonel’s office and then gave Doc a thumb’s up, “Yep, thanks for what you did to save Gunny. We’ll advise Apache that you’re on the way back.”
Doc threw him a salute and hitched a ride over to the ramp. Two hours later, Doc stepped off the helo at FOB Apache.
The Phone Call
Colonel Johnson turned to First Sergeant Brill and said, “Activate the casualty notification process. Minimum information back home, just facts; Gunny Miller is wounded, alive, and being transferred to Landstuhl.”
Brill nodded. “On the way, sir. I’ll pull the appropriate forms, get them started and get a message drafted for your release. You want email and message?”
The colonel replied, “Yeah, let’s do both. And copy Captain Ragsdale.”
“Yes, sir.” Brill left the ops center and headed back to the administrative section, trying to figure out how to let Darlene know before the message and email hit Pendleton. As he prepped the message and email, he finally decided to just go ahead and phone home and hope to hell nobody saw him make the call.
Slipping out to the smoking pit, he was relieved to see that it was empty and he pulled the Satphone out of his MARPAT and hurriedly dialed his house.
Twelve hours and 8000 miles away, Darlene rolled over and pulled the phone off the cradle, “Lo?”
“Darl, it’s Mike. Aaron Miller has been wounded and evac’ed
to Landstul. He was alive when they left. He lost part of his left leg. RBE[25] should get the message and email when they come in at 0800. SOP is a call as you know. Dunno how Mrs. Miller will handle it, but you might want to be there. Shit, gotta go. Love you, babe.” This was followed by a click as the phone hung up.
Darlene hung up the phone and sat up quickly, thinking of the best way to approach what she knew wasn’t going to be an easy situation. She headed for the kitchen and started the coffee, then hit the speaker on the phone as she dialed Marlene, hoping she would pick up and not her husband. After three rings she heard Marlene answer muzzily.
“Marlene, up and at ‘em. We’ve got a problem. Jesse’s hubby has been hit and is being evac’ed to Landstuhl.”
“Oh shit. How bad?”
Darlene shook her head, clutching the phone harder. “Pretty bad according to Mike. He’s lost part of his leg, they’re messaging the RBE and he said they’d get it when they come in at eight. Since he’s not KIA, they’re just gonna call her.”
“Gimme forty and pick me up.”
Darlene replied, “Okay, see you in a few. Dammit, what can we do?”
Marlene sighed. “Whatever we have to, Darl. We’ve both been through this shit before. We’ll have to get her there somehow. Bye.”
Darlene punched off the speaker and poured a cup of coffee as she thought of the things they could do. Forty minutes later, she pulled up in front of Marlene’s house to see both Sergeant Major Eberhart and Marlene standing in the driveway.
Darlene rolled the window down. “Morning, Ross. I was hoping you weren’t going to be here.”
Sergeant Major Eberhart looked down at Darlene. “I am, so I’m going to get involved. Marlene tells me Carter is still Miller’s roommate, so I’m going to call him as soon as I am officially notified of the injury. I will release him from duty to provide any assistance the Marine Corps can provide. The key word here is officially notified. I know you two are going to do what you want, but please let the system work. Okay?”