Mass Casualties: A Young Medic's True Story of Death, Deception, and Dishonor in Iraq (28 page)

“Sergeant,” Linhorst whispers to Blett again. “I really think you should come look at this patient.”

Blett turns around and lets out a sigh saying, “Fine.”

“What seems to be the problem?” Blett asks, looking at the Marine in the chair, totally forgetting that his injury is in his mouth.

“It's about time. I think his jaw might be broken or something,” one of the Marines jumps in.

“Well, if that's the case there's nothing I can do. You'll have to wait for a doctor,” Blett says as she turns and walks back toward the ceremony.

1634 HOURS, OR

“Where's my soldier?” the Marine colonel says as he comes barreling into the ICW. “And where the hell is everyone in this damn hospital?”

The Marines promptly straighten their backs and stand at the position of attention; the injured one stays seated.

“Sir,” one Marine begins “Corporal Ellenberg is the injured one. His jaw is injured, maybe broken.”

“Broken? Well, what did the doctor have to say?”

“Sir. The doctors haven't seen him yet.”

“Marine, what the hell do you mean he hasn't been seen yet? I got the call twenty minutes ago about the injury. How long have you been here?”

“Sir. We have been here …” the Marine looks down at his watch, “a little over a half-hour.”

The Marine colonel turns and looks at Linhorst. “Where the hell is the doctor, and why hasn't my Marine been seen in a half-hour?”

“Sir. Our doctors are all at a ceremony in the ER. I got my section leader, Sergeant Blett, but she went back to the ceremony. She said he needed to wait to see a doctor.”

“Well, soldier, I want a doctor to look at my Marine and I want them to do it now! No section leader, I want a damn! doctor. I mean this is a hospital, isn't it?”

“Yes, sir,” Linhorst says as he turns around and heads toward the ER. The Marine colonel follows him.

“Excuse me, sir,” Linhorst whispers, tapping on the shoulder of one of the ER doctors.

“What is it, soldier?” the doctor replies, unable to take his eyes off of Colonel Jelly, who is once again standing in front of the crowd of people.

“Sir, we have a patient that's waiting in the… .”

“Soldier, is the patient walking? Did he get he brought in by a helicopter?”

“Well, no sir, but….”

“Is he bleeding anywhere?”

“No, sir, but… .”

“I'll tell you what. I'll see him right after this… .”

The doctor then walks toward the stage with five other doctors as Colonel Jelly announces they'll all be getting awards for their great medical care.

Linhorst looks at the Marine colonel, and the colonel looks back; neither knows what to do.

1946 HOURS, OR

The ER doctor, whom Linhorst was talking to, finishes up giving a speech on giving good medical care and then walks back toward Linhorst and the Marine colonel.

“There, now was that so bad? Let's go see this patient,” the doctor says to Linhorst as he turns and walks toward the ICW.

WEEK 1, DAY 6, IRAQ

0730 HOURS, OR

“Anthony, you're in the case with me today,” Dr. Bill yells toward me. “We have a long case ahead of us. A Marine came in yesterday and his whole jaw is broken. We've got to rewire it. Did you bring your iPod?”

WEEK 2, DAY 4, IRAQ

2350 HOURS, MY ROOM

The new unit will replace us in about two more months. It means we have to start going through a process called out-processing. We have mental health tests done to see if any of us have PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder) and get tested for all types of diseases that we could have got caught in-country.

“Ten months of everyone having sex with random people and now they finally decide it's time to check if they have any STDs,” Markham announces as he opens the door to our room. Reto, Denti, and I are watching a bootleg copy of the movie
Superbad
.

“I'm late getting out of work because we're doing everyone's damn STD tests and we're told not to put any of it on the damn books.”

“So how many confirmed?” Reto asks, not expecting a real answer.

“Only two so far, and you know what — Meade is totally free and clear.”

It's sad to hear about people and the circumstances that they'll have to deal with, all for making one bad decision. But Meade being clean? Reto reaches over onto my computer and pauses the movie.

“She should get checked again. Porpe was in my room the other day. She says she needs a place to hang out for a few hours. I ask her what's going on and she tells me that Meade is in her room getting gangbanged by three different Marines.”

I wish I could just forget everything and go back to thinking that everyone in the military is an American hero. I wish I still had someone to look up to, although I know it's impossible. None of it seems to make sense, and I can't understand how people can do what they do.

WEEK 3, DAY 6, IRAQ

0200 HOURS, MY ROOM

I wonder if someone feels an emotion but doesn't allow himself to express it … well, where does it go? If one man gives another man a present but the other man doesn't accept it, who does it belong to? If our mind, body, and heart send a message of what we're feeling but we refuse to accept it, where does it go? Bottled up until you become emotionally constipated? Some people become depressive, abusive, stressed, or destructive, and some people develop PTSD.

I've only cried six times in my life. We're warriors on the battlefield but cowards in our own minds and hearts. When something bad happens we retreat into our shells like scared turtles. We allow ourselves to become prisoners of our own walls, of our own making. Everything in life consists of cause and effect, yet often we refuse to acknowledge one or the other.

I am lying in bed crying, and it's probably going to save me from getting PTSD. When you push things down so far for so long and then finally let them go, they all come rushing out, and instead of being able to deal with things one at a time, you're forced to deal with things all at once. Some wait too long and can't handle the outpouring.

That's actually what I believe happened to Crade and why he tried to kill himself. When it happens, your mind goes blank, your body takes over, and you start to cry and your body begins to convulse as if looking for an exit for all the emotion. I keep crying into my pillow for I don't know how long. My mind slowly fades back. I stop and regain composure over myself. The first thing I think is: “Damn, I hope none of my roommates heard that.” I look around and they're all sleeping or at least pretending to be asleep. It's an absurd thought, and I begin chuckling. That I could have such a cathartic experience and the first thing I would think would be “I hope no one heard me.” I laugh at myself and it feels good, like it's coming from my core. I feel relieved. I feel as if an emotional weight had been lifted off my shoulders — twenty pounds death, twenty pounds hate, and ten pounds sadness. I feel like I do at the gym, knowing that from carrying all the weight I am now stronger for the next time. Then it starts again. More weight will pile on as I either accept or neglect feelings and thoughts. I can't cry anymore. For now it's all gone. It hit me as quick as a tsunami and left just as quickly.

WEEK 4, DAY 2, IRAQ

1000 HOURS, DOCTOR'S OFFICE

“Yes, sir, I'm having problems sleeping.”

“All right, soldier. I'm going to write you a prescription for Ambien.”

Melatonin takes too long, and I have to take too many pills to fall asleep, other pills aren't effective, Benadryl leaves me restless, and NyQuil leaves me drowsy the next day. The majority of our hospital is taking some type of sleep medication. Some take melatonin and some take NyQuil or something similar, and some people take a sleep medication called Ambien. Ambien is a powerful sleep medication, and it's easy to become addicted to it. If you take it one night then you can't sleep the next night, so you need to constantly take it. A lot of people in the unit are taking it and they swear by it. Proust tells me that if I take one of the pills and don't sleep, I will have trippy, yet awesome, hallucinations. At first I am hesitant. It could be more than I can handle. It could turn bad. Fuck it; I've got a prescription and it's free — which sounds better than paying five dollars a pill for Vicodin and Percocet.

MONTH 11

“I' VE SURVIVED ALL OF THIS, BUT I'M STILL AFR AID TO GO BACK TO THE RE AL WORLD.”