Ch 3
Aftermath
The first time being blown up I ended up at an Air Force hospital on the opposite side of the Iraq. Our medivac originally landed at a hospital in Bagdad and after a few hours there, our crew were all scheduled as return to duty and flights back were set up. After talking with the crew for a bit I decided to contest the fact in a respectful manor (as long as possible) and progressively went up chains of command until I found myself in a heated debate with a Command Sergeant Major. Retrospectively I could have given a much better debate but let us just say I was not in the right state of mind at the time.
(The legend of my exchange beat me back to our camp. When I first arrived back many high ranking officers and top enlisted would ask me if I “planned on cursing out any CSM’s today” or some variation. Not exactly taking the time to look at the rank when the final verbal exchange in Bagdad happened, I was left scratching my head, a bit timid at the questioning. It took awhile for me to put two and two together, as no one I asked knew why those following weeks. It seemed a secret only allowed to those with rank heavy enough to hear. Looking back, when brought up it was impossible for the questioner to not crack a smile. I dare to think it may have been a hidden approval…)
The argument was about two of our crew being released too early, one on crutches, one in a wheelchair that was later sent back to the states. At some point I had to call it that everything had been done that could have been. One thing did result from the effort was me getting an earlier flight before anyone else. Little did I know my flight was headed in a near opposite direction of our Forward Operating Base. No matter the reason I can only guess this occurred upon… it was the best thing that could have gone down from my fiasco.
On the flight I was the only enlisted person present. With a pistol and no rifle (pistols are limited to Officers, Tankers, and Special Forces primarily), no headgear at all and the general look of having just dug out of my own grave it would have been against their job not to question me. I explained my story and one of the commanders from the camp we were going to took charge of things. In addition to a wonderful evening being given a heroes treatment from top brass on of the largest camps in Iraq I got reevaluated by a medical team there.
After having some joints in my hand reset and a cast put on I was under twenty four hour observation for the next week for a major concussion. After the first few days test were done on my vision and hearing that showed partial loss. One test I volunteered for assessed my cognitive ability “as well above normal even with a concussion and on a heavy regiment of pain medication“. All of these are records do not seem to exist, I was never given any paperwork along the way, and several request to the VA for access has materialized nothing. (All I have is a picture taken with me in the hospital bed with cast on and Air Force Medics posing with me)
A week later I was allowed to hop around the camp on crutches, take a bus to different parts of the camp and explore. Yet another week and I was good enough to travel back to my unit. It only took a few days and a few stops to get back from there. Not able to be sent out on missions yet, I was sent on leave early. When I got back, nearly nine weeks after the incident I was back and running at full throttle. Our Truck Commander and interpreter while surviving their injuries were unfortunately unable to run missions by that point.
The second time I claim to have been blown up was never really acknowledged or documented (It was said that there was enough paperwork with those who had not already received medals as it was to give anyone else who already had anything, anything). At that point in our deployment as long as you still had all your appendages you went nowhere. Our platoon alone had several Killed in Action, with even more dealt incapacitating blows. With over two dozen friendly casualties (some of the Iraqi Police got trucks and put as many bodies as the could in so an accurate count that day is not available) I once again had suppressed the pain and this time with only internal injuries was able to avoid being medivaced.
Days later we were ordered to our medic station (quite primitive with no stationary equipment, we only had one Battalion there and personnel was not the only thing we were short of there) and all given brief exams and all the Doctor could see was some swelling and bruising in my back. Over the next few week I talked about some of the problems I was having with our platoon medic, but only as friend to friend. The last thing I was going to let happen is our platoon have to work harder to make up for my loss.
There are many story of valor, honor, sacrifice, that deserve their day in the spotlight. One day I hope to have the privilege of telling of these courageous actions and tragic horrors. Today though we must stay focused on a tragedy surpassing these two moments in time I have shared with you thus far. Years after the fact anyone who asks can not get a straight answer from the VA on what is wrong with me (which is documented on every level of government all the way up to the White House itself). Many people I served with have problems and corresponding ratings with the VA for environmental exposures alone which play a part, but not here. This is about the VA thru their own provable testimony and my family’s testimony.
This will require going back a bit more brief moment, two other service related injuries play a large factor in today’s circumstances which must also be noted….
1. The first notable injury was during basic training, Ft Knox, KY, summer 2004 . After a long fall on a confidence course I found myself hobbling on crutches for nearly a month. I would still keep up with my training the best I could and managed not to be recycled, or restarted, during training. MRI’s were done that showed stress fractures in both sockets of my hips, left worse than right. With no rehabilitation and shear will I managed to graduate with my class. (Trust me, it took a lot. I had a new baby and wife, had not been paid for three months… I saw other people just roll with the cards, get the boot and receive disability compensation for lesser injuries. Failure is not an option, I enlisted for reasons and saw them thru.)
2. The second was the Friday of my first week at my unit in Ft Hood, TX, late 2004. I was driven, a need to impress those battle hardened soldiers I saw around. We were practicing tank evacuation drills, and after a few simple procedures I was to leave from the back of the tank. With the clock ticking for the test time was almost out. All my task but were done but one, making it far enough away from the tank in time. Well I made that time, with enthusiasm and idiocy. In the process I made sure my left knee would never be the same.
I did not seek any medical care for we had a physical training test coming up. Ditching out on my first test with my unit was not an option I was willing to consider. The run was the most painful, the last leg of the race spending a dozen or two feet with my head cocked to the right and a stream of fluid spewing out. I happened to be running past our Battalion Commander while watering the strip of grass next to the road. Even got a bit of recognition for the fact I made time and did not miss a step while expelling my stomach contents but more importantly, after weeks I finally was able to seek medical treatment.
