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Death on the road to Kuwait We finally made it to Camp Arifjon, Kuwait, and were able to find cots to fall on late last night around 2 a.m., fully worn out and mentally flat-broke. It's been a long and arduous two days of movement, and unfortunately, we didn't all make it. Everyone from the MST is okay, but we lost a gun truck and three soldiers -- two dead and one who wishes he was. We were heading down a section of new highway somewhere in southern Iraq where the land is barren and sparsely populated. The highway was two lanes, but without any kind of shoulder. At the end of the asphalt, it dipped about a foot until you hit the dirt of the desert. We were traveling in a convoy that stretched five miles long with hundreds of 18-wheeler trucks coming north opposite of us. One of the Iraqi drivers in the semi found his front right tire slip off of the asphalt and, being unlicensed on his equipment, didn't know that over-compensating on a semi truck is ... bad, very bad. So, he yanked his steering to the left and found himself in a head-on collision with HHS 93, a HWMMV troop-carrier gun truck. I heard LT Bell yell across the net in a panic, "Stop the convoy! MEDIC! We need a MEDIC! HHS 93 has just had a head-on collision with a SEMI! MEDIC!" The Battalion Commander came on the radio and told him. The Battalion Commander came on the radio and told him to calm down, assess the situation, and present again. We all pulled off to the side of the road. I had been messing with my radio speaker and didn't see the accident, which was only nine vehicles to my front. The first thing I did was grab the passenger manifest out of my notebook and scan to see who was in HHS 93. PFC Wilson, don't know him, SPC Colon, can't place the face, SGT West. Oh no. Not SGT West.. My brain started to compartmentalize and figure out what could be done from my angle. So, each of my vehicles kept a gunner on it pointed outwards while all of my combat life savers grabbed their medical bags and started running towards the truck. The minute I saw the truck, flipped 3/4 upside down and mangled in very unnatural ways, I just thought ... oh no. I stood back from the accident for a minute, assessing myself to ensure that whatever I saw, I'd still be helpful and a frozen train wreck emotionally. But I was struggling, because soldiers were running backwards, gagging, crying, and screaming for help: I had never seen real-life trauma before, and I wasn't sure I could be a contributor. Doc Swaims was moving faster than I have ever seen him move. I got over myself then, seeing his focus on the task, and ran forward to see what needed to be done. As I approached, about six men somehow lifted that HWMMV. As the Blackhawks left, we all hung our heads low and turned around to begin cleanup. LTC Malone took us away from the traffic line out into the desert about 300 meters and briefed everyone on what had happened. Most of us were part of the whole process, but some had remained on guard for the entire event, and some were just too squeamish to get involved in any capacity. So, he told everyone that two of our guys had died, and that SPC Colon had made it to the hospital alive. Then, he brought Chaplain Ralston forward, who asked everyone to join hands as he said a prayer. I stood in the dusty and windy desert, head bowed with my comrades, and felt completely deflated and depressed. I heard a soldier start to cry, and he cried like we only do when we were children. It broke my heart to hear him break like that. I thought about SGT West. Married 12 years, had 10 and 8 year-old sons, friendly, helpful, and such a hard worker. He was always kind to me. He went out of his way to say hello, and he had a happy-go-lucky attitude that was contagious. PFC Wilson was 28 years old, was married and was planning on using all of the money he'd saved out here to open a Bed and Breakfast back home. I do not think I know SPC Colon, but I'll have to consult my battle yearbook to be sure, because his face was not identifiable out there yesterday. They had all been out here for 15 months, and were so close to making it. We have only lost one other soldier in this Battalion, and we were hoping to make it all the way back without losing any more. But it just wasn't set up that way. There are a lot of soldiers that are going to need some time to process this. The troops that are in HHS (Headquarters) generally have not been exposed to the same atrocities that members of the other batteries have, because of the nature of their jobs. HHS troops were the ones on the scene, so most of them had to experience trauma for the first time with their friends. SGT Stone told me that he'd hoped that the training for Combat Lifesaver would only be useful in getting him promotion points -- but he didn't like having to use what he'd learned on his friends -- not one bit. I saw Doc Swaims the next morning by his vehicle, drinking coffee (as always). I walked up and he held his arms out, beckoning me in for a hug. I stood there with him for a minute. He's a good hugger when you need one. The rest of us are here though. And we're beginning the process of washing all of our vehicles, getting them on the ship, and rolling out. Some leave in a couple of days, and I'll be leaving in a couple of weeks or so. This is the ending. 1SG Bartnick just surprised the hell out me by tapping my shoulder. I'm in the Cyber Cafe and it's in his neighborhood apparently. We're going for Baskin Robbins now. Time to catch up now. He's got an SUV, so he's my best friend now. :) Again. Love you, |
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