Mass Casualties: A Young Medic's True Story of Death, Deception, and Dishonor in Iraq (6 page)

He is busy playing a computer game and doesn't look up.

“What is it!” he says as he starts to shut down his computer.

“Well,” Hudge says, her confidence starting to subside, “We just had a few concerns about the schedule we wanted to talk about.”

Gagney's computer is now off, but he still hasn't turned around to look at any of us. He stands and grabs his weapon and his jacket from the back of his chair.

“Well, there shouldn't be a problem. Like I said, it's not permanent. I still have to work guard duty into it.”

“There seems to be — ” Hudge is saying.

“But this is the military, so I suggest you find a way to deal with whatever problems you have. The schedule sticks so deal with it.” Gagney doesn't make eye contact with any of us as he walks out the door.

We are all left standing there. Denti, who said he would shove the schedule down Gagney's throat, looks like he's about to cry. His voice is trembling and he sounds like a child.

“Fucking unbelievable.”

Hudge is especially silent. Right now she isn't one of us. After all, she has the comfort of working the same time every day while our schedules are changing.

“Maybe he just doesn't understand what's wrong with the schedule. Maybe if we explain things to him …” says Chandler. He already knows his plan isn't going to work.

“Listen guys, go back to your rooms and get some sleep or go eat. I'll try to talk to Gagney when I can. Maybe even Dr. Bill can help.” Hudge's voice is now calm and caring; she sounds more like a mother than a soldier. We feel some comfort knowing that she has this side to her. That even with everything that's going on we still can have someone who truly cares about us … even if they … aren't going to do anything.

1600 HOURS, OR

My quick notes on three women:

Hudge met her husband in the military. She loves chocolate. If she starts craving chocolate she'll do almost anything for it, even give you a back rub.

I'm still not sure if Sellers is a lesbian. I flirt with her and she flirts back, but after work she spends time with the other lesbians in our unit. I spend a lot of time with Sellers because she is an insomniac and she'll come in on every shift. Most of the time she does more work than the person on shift. She is also a major germophobe; she washes her hands once before going to the bathroom and twice after. She puts gloves on to floss her teeth, and she uses an entire roll of toilet paper whenever she goes to the bathroom — and that's just to build a nest on the toilet seat.

I also met another officer I'll be working with. Captain Tarr is a Caucasian woman from Washington State. Although she often tries to tell people she is in her forties, the crows-feet around her eyes and mouth give her away. She looks good for a woman in her fifties, though, and you can tell that she used to be attractive when she was younger. She's married, has two kids, and gives a killer back rub. Often I'll be sitting there and she'll come up behind me and start rubbing away — these are on her good days. She does have bad days, too. Or I guess it's more good hours and bad hours. One minute she'll be giving you a back rub and the next she'll be cursing at you for unplugging the coffee maker. I've learned to wait and see how she acts around other people before I approach her. I'm worried she is bipolar.

WEEK 3, DAY 1, IRAQ

2200 HOURS, MY ROOM

Beep. Beep. Beep.

It's ten at night, but it's morning to me. It is my second day in a row on third shift and I've got to be at work in one hour. I'm still tired and Markham is sleeping next to me. He always sleeps well and his schedule never changes. As a laboratory technician, he tests blood to make sure it's good to put in patients and collects it from donors when our supplies run low. I'm working eight hours, then I get eight hours off, then I'm back on for eight hours. Two days ago, I was on first shift. Gagney didn't come in to work; he gave himself a day off. It's been two weeks and none of us have had a day off . Gagney's had two.

0300 HOURS, OR

Waters wakes from her nap (inside the supply closet) and finds that I have fallen asleep while working on putting instrument trays together.

“Anthony, wake up! What are you doing sleeping on the job?”

I put my arms in the air and open my eyes as best as I can.

“Whhatt?”

“You were late. I had to stand around waiting for you.”

“I'm sorry, I fell back asleep, I told you — ”

“I don't want to hear it, you were on this shift with me yesterday, two days in a row; your body should be on schedule.”

I knew little about her. Besides being a “waitress,” she's a registered nurse. She says she makes more money working at the strip club so she does that instead. I get an image of Waters in my head working at the strip club and having men slip dollar bills into her thong. If only they knew later on she'd be fighting for their freedom.

“Get the sterilizer machines ready. You didn't finish the work you were supposed to do; now we'll both have to do it.” Waters starts rummaging around the room. I'm not sure what she's looking for.

“Didn't you do anything while I was sleeping?!” She screams.

I come out of my daze enough to realize that Waters is asking a rhetorical question. She doesn't want an answer but I decide to answer anyway. “I didn't do anything while you were sleeping! God forbid you should do anything, actually do some — I'm sooo sorry that Waters has to do work. God forbid, I fall asleep and you might actually — I'm switching shifts every other day. My sleeping and eating are all fucked up and you might actually have to do something — you might actually have to do something yourself like some of your own work… .”

I'm tired; I'm not thinking straight, I keep talking.

“You've been on third shift every day since we got here. Have you even done any surgeries since our first mass cal? Third shift never gets the surgeries. You sleep your entire fucking shift!” For the first time in two weeks I feel as though a burden has been lifted off of my chest, as if the yelling has released all of my pent-up anger. Waters breaks eye contact first; her eyes go to the floor and she starts working. I start working and we finish up what we had to do. After that we go to opposite sides of the OR. Waters starts reading a
People
magazine; I'm writing in my journal.

WEEK 3, DAY 6, IRAQ

0645 HOURS, MY ROOM

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Turn that thing off,” my roommate Markham says as he throws a pillow at me. I open my eyes and stare at him. I don't know what's going on —

“Wwwhhhatt … thheehhell …”

Markham shuts my alarm off.

“Gagney is really screwing you guys over. I didn't think you could get any whiter than you are, but you look like a fucking holocaust victim.”

“What time is it?” I grumble as I start to get out of bed.

“Six forty six,” Markham replies.

I need to be at work at 0700.

0705 HOURS, OR

Reto and Torres tell me that Gagney is taking a day off and that Elster is in charge of us. I can't remember the last time I smiled like this. The world seems like a better place. Captain Tarr approaches us and I smile at her.

“What do you think you're smiling at!?! You came in here late. You think you can come in late just because Gagney is taking a day off?”

I quickly snap to the position of attention. Even though she is not my boss, she is higher ranking so I have to show her the proper respect.

“This is incredible. You men are all the same. You think you can get away with anything. When the cat's away, the mouse will play.”

Captain Tarr continues to ramble and I notice that she's starting to not make sense. She's been acting strange for a few days now — stranger than I've seen her before. Normally her mood is up and down; she's either giving you a massage or verbally strangling you, but now it's as if her mood is constantly on one side — the bad one. And I know I'm not the only one who's noticed it. Just yesterday Reto told me she yelled at him for using the last piece of paper in a notebook. The day before that she yelled at Denti and threw a pen at him because he ate the last muffin in the break room.

She continues to yell and I stare at the middle of her forehead. I refuse to give her the respect of my eye contact as she screams at me.

“Unbelievable … piece of … you should be … screw… .”She yells and yells and I can't help but wonder if there isn't some type of heavy suppressed anger underneath. Something must be eating her up, and she's taking it out on all of us. But she continues to yell, and I begin to wonder what it would be like if she and Gagney had a child. I wonder if it's really possible for someone to be screaming every time they open their mouth. Eventually she storms off. I don't know how long we stood there; because when you're staring at someone's forehead you lose track of time.

“No cases until twelve today,” says Reto in the break room.

Today is Sunday and the doctors don't come in until twelve. They all go to church in the morning. Well, they all say they're going to church. Half go and the other half use it as an excuse to come in late.

It feels good to have a break from doing surgery. The last few days we've been loaded with them. We've been getting bombed at least twice a week, and that means we're overloaded.

Torres looks happy. This is his third day in a row on first shift so he's getting into a routine.

“Anthony, listen to what Reto was just telling me. You will never believe who got caught having sex.”

I don't have to hear any more, I'm already laughing. Torres told me that in Guatemala everyone minds their own business and no one cares what anyone else is doing. But since he came to America, and specifically since he joined the Army, he loves to hear gossip; sex is usually the number one topic of discussion. It's probably because it seems to be the most taboo. People have sex, yet the military likes to pretend they don't. The Army does this to try and keep everyone under control. They want to run things like a well-oiled machine, and when sex is brought into the equation you bring in emotions; emotions have no place in a machine. I don't know whether it's because of the no-sex rule or in spite of the no-sex rule, but regardless, everyone still has sex and because of the rule they are forced to sneak around, which can often lead to hilarious circumstances. Like in Wisconsin when two soldiers got caught having sex in a Porta-Potty, and then two got caught having sex in a dumpster. I guess that's what happens when you try to control people — sex in a dumpster. Personally, I don't want to do that.

“Sergeant Cost got caught having sex yesterday in the TV room. And get this, it was in the afternoon, the door wasn't even locked, and it was First Sergeant Mardine who caught them.”

Sergeant Cost is a short woman with thick glasses and a bowl hair cut. She is also mentally challenged. I'm not sure how she was even able to get in the Army. I think by some grace of God she did well on a test and the Army didn't even bother looking into what type of person she is, only her test score. She also has five children who are mentally challenged, some functionally, some not.

Here's a story about her: While we were at our pre-deployment training at Ft. McCoy, Cost called her kids back home —

“Listen honey, Daddy doesn't love you. That's why he broke up with mommy. Put your brother on the phone. Hey baby, listen, no, don't put your Daddy on the phone, he's a bad man. I don't know why your sister's crying. It's probably because she realized that your father doesn't love you guys. I love you, though. Okay, talk to you later.”

First Sergeant Mardine overheard Cost on the phone and immediately ran over to her. “You can't talk to your kids like that! It could emotionally scar them for life!” Cost just looked at her as if she was crazy to tell her how to parent her children.

First Sergeant Mardine is just below the rank of command sergeant major — she's in charge of the enlisted soldiers for our unit. Even though she's in her late sixties, she has more fire in her than ninety percent of the people in the unit. She's tiny, 5′4″, but she's built like an ox, strong and thick. She has been in the Army for over thirty years, and it's obvious that those years have toughened her up. She has puffy white hair shaped into a male hair cut — high and tight. I guess the hair cut fits, though, because she's a lesbian.