by Dick Couch
Sergeant Pham speaks with a halting accent that says English is his second language. He is five-ten, slender, angular, and with a very precise manner. I perceive both strength and a sense of purpose in Sergeant Pham.
“First Group?” I ask, thinking he would be assigned to the group with responsibility in Southeast Asia.
“That is correct.”
“Vietnamese?”
He smiles. “Correct again. My father was an ARVN [Army of the Republic of Vietnam (South Vietnam)] officer. We came to this country when I was a little boy.” The smile broadens a little. “Perhaps, Captain Couch, you and my father fought together.”
“Perhaps,” I reply, “I had that honor.”
“We allow the students to go through the briefings quickly,” Pham tells me while we wait for the student ODA to appear, “but without omitting any steps in the mission-planning format. This gets them thinking about tactical application of explosives they will use in Phase IV. On these training missions, we grade them on their actions on target and specifically on the construction and placement of the charges. We also spend time with them in setting up the briefing tent and establishing security. This briefing tent becomes a secure isolation facility in a tactical situation. The isolation and briefing areas are also the responsibility of the engineering sergeants.”
We are about fifty meters from the target, an old, disused oil tank. The tank is part of a mock-up air-base complex just off the Luzon Drop Zone at Camp Mackall. Nearby there’s an old plywood control tower and several aircraft with welded oil drum fuselages and sheet-metal wings. At a small campfire near the oil tank are two role players in black uniforms and AK-47s with blank firing adapters.
“What about the explosives?” I ask, knowing they can’t use real charges at Camp Mackall. And I happen to live just a half mile down the gravel road from the drop zone.
“Everything is real except for the explosive charges. They use real time fuse, real blasting caps, and real det cord. It will make a bang, but it will not damage the tank.”
Our attention is captured by the bark of an M240 machine gun from a fire-support position in the nearby woods. The two guards return fire, but they are quickly overwhelmed by the skirmish line that sweeps toward their position. Then there follows the normal shouting and shooting that accompanies the A-team as it makes its assault. After firing dies off, the team leader takes charge.
“Set security! Prisoner handlers, search the EPWs! Demo team, set your charges!”
The soldier kneeling next to one of the team leaders calls out the time. “Ninety seconds…Two minutes!” He carries one of the team’s two radios and is in contact with the B-team leader, who has moved his men from the fire-support position to secure the perimeter. When the demo team leader has charges in place, and the patrol leader has inspected them, he calls, “Fire in the hole!” Then things stop.
Sergeant Pham comes forward and the prospective engineering sergeants gather around him. Pham conducts a critique of the explosive-charge placement. In this case, the canvas-covered wooden-block charges are braced against the metal skin of the tank by cut wooden branches. The charges are linked by det cord and dual primed with nonelectric firing assemblies. It’s a crude, field-expedient, and very professional-looking job. Sergeant Pham points out a few ways it could have been done better and several ways it could have been done differently.
“Specialist Smith.”
“Right here, Sergeant.”
“What is your time delay.”
“Two minutes, Sergeant.”
“You may proceed.”
Specialist Smith nods to his demo team leader, and again the cry “Fire in the hole!” rings out. This time it’s for real. “Burning!” the demo team leader calls out as he inspects the time fuse. Sergeant Pham, myself, and most of the student ODA retreat to a safe distance. A few of the student 18 Charlies are set out on the nearby roads to make sure no one inadvertently approaches the target. At two minutes, three seconds, there’s a sharp crack as the caps and det cord explode.
“Very good, Specialist,” Pham tells his team leader, “and better a little late than a little early. Go police up the demo blocks and make your way back to the base camp. And remember, you are still tactical.”
“Roger that, Sergeant.”
Before the team can get off target, a Humvee roars across the open area from behind the dummy airplanes. A man is leaning from the window of the passenger’s door, firing an AK-47.
“QRF [quick-reaction force]! QRF!” the team leader yells, and the candidates begin to return fire. The Humvee slews to a stop under a hail of blank fire. The team leader regroups his men, and they leapfrog back into the tree line near the target tank.
This field training exercise is the last evolution for the 18 Charlie Class 1-05. Before coming out to Camp Mackall, they’d taken their last written test, the target-analysis examination. They are all but finished with Phase III. I find my guys, Barstow and Dunn, packing their gear for the trip back to Fort Bragg.
“Now that you’re about finished,” I ask Aaron Dunn, “how does this compare with repairing aircraft radars?”
“It’s a lot different, but I like it. I’ve been to a few Army technical schools, and they were hard. This one was just as hard, but here we had to bring it from the classroom to a tactical environment. We learned the technical aspects of construction and demolitions, and then we came out here to apply them in the field. And since it’s Special Forces training, we had to do this when we’re tired and haven’t had much sleep.”
“Sergeant Barstow, how does this stack up with Army military police work?”
Daniel Barstow grins. “It’s a lot more challenging than what I was doing with the MPs. You have to respect demolitions, but blowing things up is a helluva lot of fun.”
“So it’s on to Phase IV?”
“Gear maintenance, and a good solid night’s sleep,” Barstow replies, “then on to Phase IV.”
THE 18 DELTAS—THE SPECIAL FORCES MEDICAL SERGEANTS
The 18 Delta medical sergeant curriculum is one of the most challenging and unique military training courses in this or any other army. This medical training is worthy of a book, let alone the few pages I’m able to devote to it here. In addition to the 18 Delta candidates, combat medics from the Army Special Operations Aviation Regiment, the Navy SEALS, the 75th Ranger Regiment, and the Air Force Special Tactics Teams all train at the $40 million Joint Special Operations Medical Training Center at Fort Bragg. The Joint Special Operations Medical Training Center operates under the JFK Special Warfare Center and School as its own training group and is the only MOS training that does not fall under the 1st Special Warfare Training Group. This facility is usually referred to by its acronym, the JSOMTC, but here we’ll just call it the Medical Training Center.
The first thing the 18D candidates see when they enter the student entrance of the Medical Training Center is the Special Operations Medic Combat Pledge:
As a Special Operations Combat Medic, I pledge my honor and conscience to my country and the Art of Medicine.
I recognize the responsibility that may be placed upon me for the health and the lives of others.
I confess the limitations of my skill and knowledge in caring for the sick and injured.
I promise to follow the maxim Primum mon non nocere—first do no harm, and to seek the assistance of more qualified medical authority whenever available.
Those confidences that come to me in my attendance of the sick, I will treat as secret.
I resolve to continue to sustain and improve my medical capabilities throughout my career as a Special Operations Combat Medic.
As a soldier/sailor/airman I will place all considerations of self below those of my team, my mission, and the cause of my country.
The Medical Training Center is a special and unique medical training facility—complete with state-of-the-art trauma simulators, operating rooms, a cadaver laboratory, and, like all medical schools, facilities for li
ve-patient training. For the 18 Delta candidates, it’s twelve months or more of classroom study, medical field drill, and internships that will make them qualified paramedics, emergency medical technicians (EMTs), and the finest combat medics in the world.
The first part of the 18 Delta training, or Special Forces Medical Sergeant Course, is the twenty-six-week Special Operations Combat Medic Course. Here they get classroom work in anatomy, physiology, pathology, patient assessment, and pharmacy training, as well as the basic classroom work that goes with EMT and paramedic qualification. The 18 Delta candidates perform clinical rotations in civilian hospitals and in civilian emergency and trauma centers. They also ride in civilian ambulances to work with emergency medical service paramedics on 911 calls. These clinical rotations and paramedic excursions have taken place at medical facilities in St. Petersburg, Tampa, Jacksonville, Richmond, and other civilian clinics. Before they graduate from the combat medic course, the 18 Delta candidates will have worked to save lives in actual trauma conditions and assisted in at least one birthing. But these soldiers are training to be more than EMTs and paramedics. They must be warriors and healers, sometimes both at the same time. One unique exercise during the course is the trauma-lanes training at the Medical Training Center. I’ve experienced some realistic military training, but nothing as intense or as well choreographed as the trauma-lanes training of the 18 Delta course.
“This introduces the student medics to working in a tactical environment,” Chief Tony Balestra tells me. Balestra is a Navy SEAL chief petty officer and the senior Navy medical corpsman assigned to the school. He’s a graduate of the 18 Delta medical training and rated as a Navy independent-duty corpsman. Chief Balestra escorts me to a wooded area behind the school but still within the perimeter of the facility grounds. The Medical Training Center is considered a secure facility, and visitors like myself have to be with an escort. Along a strip of grass near the woods is a series of army tents that are equipped as field infirmaries. These treatment facilities mirror what a Special Forces medic may have at a guerrilla base or a firebase in Afghanistan. There’s a treatment table inside each along with the associated trauma equipment found in a mobile field hospital. It’s like we’re on the set of the M*A*S*H TV series.
“The students work in training units of five students and one instructor under simulated combat conditions,” Balestra explains. “One is the primary student medic, one the patient, and the other three are squad members who can observe the treatment. The medic will have his aid bag, which he has packed and prepared for this exercise. With the exception of the wounded man, they’re all in combat gear with load-bearing vests, extra magazines, weapons, and helmets.” At the edge of the woods, Chief Balestra turns me over to a staff instructor and his student training unit. They’re about to begin a trauma exercise.
“We grade each student in three areas,” Instructor Mike Burke tells me as his students gear up. Burke is a retired Special Forces medic and a licensed physician’s assistant. Like most 18 Delta instructors, he’s a wealth of battlefield casualty knowledge and experience. “The first is their initial assessment of the patient, and it is an under-fire assessment. The student medic must conduct immediate lifesaving measures to control bleeding and restore breathing. Once those measures are addressed, he has to move his victim to cover and relative safety for more in-depth assessment. When out of immediate danger, the medic conducts what we call a rapid assessment. This is also a graded evolution. It’s a head-to-foot inspection followed by field treatment to stabilize the patient. Treatment might include tourniquets, splints, braces, IVs, morphine, and the like. Then he has to rig the patient for casualty evacuation. Before transportation, the student medic has to fill out a form 1380. The 1380 tells the field hospital of the care given to date, the field diagnosis, meds—that kind of information.” One of the students appears at Burke’s elbow.
“We’re all ready, Mister Burke.”
“Well, then, let’s go to work.” Burke turns to a student with the aid bag. All of them are in battle dress. “OK, medic. We’re under ineffective fire, and there’s an enemy force probing our position that could make an assault at any time. You’ve got a wounded teammate up there. Let’s get him.”
Burke clicks his stopwatch and motions for me to follow. We trail the student squad up a shallow rise and some thirty meters into the woods. There, a wounded soldier lies moaning. And he looks wounded. His face is blue, and he’s having trouble breathing. There is a large gash in his thigh that is literally squirting blood. And there is a bullet wound in his chest.
“Hey, buddy, how you doing?” The student medic shouts to him as he drops his rifle to the ground and slings his aid bag from his shoulder. “Talk to me, man, tell me where it hurts.” The medic tends to the wounded man while the other three students take firing positions where they can provide security for the medic but still observe the treatment. The student checks his patient’s airway and applies a tourniquet to the spurting wound, all the while talking to his patient, asking him about his condition.
The wounded student has just come from the moulage tent where his face was tinted blue-white, the bullet holes were applied with a Magic Marker, and a rubber leg gash was glued to his thigh. A bottle of fake blood is taped under his armpit and connected to the wound by a thin tube, allowing him to pulse with arterial bleeding. Instructor Burke also has a squirt bottle of stage blood to keep the wound blood-soaked. This guy’s in bad shape.
PHOTO INSERT
WELCOME TO FORT BRAGG. A Pre-SFAS cadre sergeant makes a careful appraisal of a newly arrived Special Forces candidate.
THE CATERPILLAR. Pre-SFAS students link up, boots on shoulders, for collective push-ups during physical training on day one of the preparation course.
NAVIGATION PRACTICAL. A Special Forces soldier must be able to navigate with a map, a compass, and a protractor anywhere, anytime. Student Number 78 plots his course.
HOME FREE. Just in from navigation practical, Pre-SFAS student Number 70 catches a few winks in the base-camp area.
STAND AND DELIVER. Student Number 8 reports to the Pre-SFAS phase review board to determine if he will be allowed to move on to SFAS and Special Forces selection.
LOG TEAMWORK. Special Forces candidates in SFAS work together to manage their section of a telephone pole. Proper handling of the logs requires teamwork.
CHECKING IN. An SFAS candidate checks in with a point sitter on the land navigation course. When logged in, he will get a new set of coordinates and be off to his next point.
CONGRATULATIONS. First Sergeant Billy Sarno congratulates Private First Class Roberto Pantella on reaching the last point of the Star, the navigation final exam.
DUCT TAPE. SFAS candidates can move as far as eighteen miles a day under their rucksacks. Sometimes a little duct tape is needed.
SARE EVENT. An SFAS officer candidate is confronted with a war-crime scenario that involves partisan-force role players.
TEAMWORK. Moving a dead jeep through soft sand is a team effort. Everyone has to carry his load or the team fails.
MAKEUP! A Special Forces student gets cammied up for a field problem. Throughout the Q-Course, students apply and reapply face and hand camouflage.
OUTDOOR CLASS ROOM. Sergeant First Class Sid Warner, ODA 812 cadre sergeant, holds class in the rain for student ODAs 811 and 812.
CLAYMORE CLASS. Sergeant First Class Paul Janss, student ODA 811’s cadre sergeant, demonstrates the proper use of a claymore mine.
VERY CAREFULLY! Two Phase II cadre sergeants demonstrate the proper technique for searching an EPW—an enemy prisoner of war.
THE GUN. An M240 medium machine gun set up for an ambush. The two camouflaged lumps in the foreground are Private First Class Tim Baker and Specialist Tom Kendall.
LIKE THIS. Sergeant First Class Paul Janss demonstrates the right angle for covering fire to Captain Miguel Santos.
FIELD INSTRUCTION. Sergeant First Class Paul Janss, upper right, briefs five members of stud
ent ODA 811 before they continue with their tactical field problem.
TAKE FIVE. Private First Class Tim Baker takes a break during Phase III, 18 Bravo training at Camp Mackall.
TRANSITION. Private First Class Roberto Pantella holsters his M9 pistol, getting ready to go to his M4 rifle. In time, he’ll do this without taking his eyes from his target.
LONG GUN. Specialist Tom Kendall settles in behind the scope of an M24 sniper rifle.
GUNFIGHT FORM. Private First Class Tim Baker engages a target under the watchful eye of 18 Bravo cadre sergeant Don Adams.
CONSTRUCTION AT CAMP MACKALL. Sergeants Aaron Dunn and Daniel Barstow and their 18 Charlie classmates on the roof of a student project during Phase III.
CARE UNDER FIRE. A student combat medic applies a tourniquet during the trauma portion of the 18 Delta course. He then readies the patient for casualty evacuation.
18 ECHO FIELD OFFICE. Tools of the Special Forces communicator—rucksack, rifle, radio, and a toughbook computer.
AERIAL RESUPPLY. Student ODA 915 prepares a bundle for airborne delivery in Phase IV. Clockwise from top, standing: Specialist David Altman, cadre sergeant, Sergeant Andrew Kohl, Sergeant Brian Short, and Sergeant Aaron Dunn.
DEMO INSTRUCTION. Sergeant Aaron Dunn, one of ODA 915’s engineers, gives his team a class on demolitions during the pre–Robin Sage mission-readiness exercise.