Lest We Forget (11 page)

The bird would be here soon. In the swirling dust and debris we board the
Chinook helicopter.  I can’t speak for the rest of the men but that was the toughest helo ride of my Ranger carrier.  We were dispatched to find 4 of our brothers, men we didn’t know but knew all about.  They may have been in a different branch but they joined for the same reasons that we did.  They went through the same torture to earn the right to fight alongside the elite.  They fought the same fight and bled the same blood.  And here we were, departing in their time of need.  I know that every other Ranger on that bird would have walked those mountains until their feet were bloody stumps to find those men.  We never met them but that doesn’t mean that we didn’t love them.

When we arrive back at
Bagram Air Field we are greeted by our First Sergeant.   He shakes each one of our hands and tells us good work.  The feelings of ambivalence were overwhelming. We get back just in time for Midrats, which was a meal that the chow hall was open for between dinner and breakfast.  Mid rations was mainly for pilots and flight crews that kept odd hours.  It was the best meal of the day because you could get breakfast and dinner together.  There is something incredibly satisfying about getting waffles with your steak, especially when you haven't eaten more than a couple of MREs total in the last three days. 

In the true fashion of the Ranger Regiment we are forced to shave, shower and change into
clean uniforms before being allowed to go eat.  We end up missing the chow hall hours because of the order from the senior enlisted NCO and would have to wait until breakfast for a hot meal.  After conducting what would become one of the most significant search and rescue missions in the Global War on Terrorism we wouldn't want to go to get our Fruit Loops and lasagna looking unprofessional now would we?

             
A man who sat and watched from an office, while sipping coffee, would later reprimand us for not wearing our body armor during the research and rescue.  We were told by that individual that since we were not fit enough to fight in armor that we would have to start doing “combat PT” in addition to our normal workout routine.  This involved going out in the middle of the day, in a full kit, in 100+ degree heat and running for over an hour at a time.  This was put into effect within 24 hours of our return from our extended mission.  Guys were severely dehydrated and likely close to a condition called rhabdomyolysis.  Rhabdomyolysis is a product of severe muscle tissue breakdown that compromises the ability of the kidneys to function.  

I still hadn’t slept since we returned.  The reality of those A10s dropping bombs so close to us had not left me.  As I lay in my bunk, fighting the pain of exhaustion, one of the privates in my platoon ran into my tent and told me that something was wrong with one of our guys.  There are no duty hours for a medic
; your job is those men, always.  When I got to him he was seizing on the floor at the gym.  His core temperature was well over 100.  He should have been resting after that mission but instead he was engaged in a pointless act, handed down by a man who was trying to prove a point.  I took Brandon to the aid station where we began active cooling techniques.  I delivered my assessment to the doctor on duty.  He allowed me to treat the patient myself as he sat back and asked me a few questions.  By the time Brandon had a few liters on board, my Platoon Leader and Platoon Sergeant came in.  The doctor told them his condition and that I had executed as a medic flawlessly. 

This
, in addition to my performance on the search and rescue mission that we just concluded, was enough to justify my promotion.  My Platoon Sergeant told me that he was promoting me.  Nothing feels better than that! I was going to be a Sergeant! My best friends Matt and Jess had already achieved the rank and now I get to join them.  I swelled with pride and instantly grew two inches.

“Congrats Doc, you just made Corporal”

What the fuck does that mean?  I thought to myself.  No one gets a promotion to Corporal.  I was already an E4, how are you going to promote me to E4?  All of the responsibility of a Sergeant without the respect or pay increase.  Thanks again Army, you sure do know your way around a practical joke! 

The first sunrise after infill.

Waiting for nightfall to infill to the
Kunar province.  These would be our chariots.

This was just before the shots were fired.  Notice how steep the terrain is.  You can see four Rangers from my platoon if you look closely.

Inside the home of the man that we suspected was the goat herder that compromised the initial mission.

Over watch
.

Over watch.  This was just after the baboons rolled up on us.

Close to where we recovered Navy Seal, Matt Axelson.

              Not much would transpire over the next several weeks.  We did what Rangers do during slow deployment times.  We went to the gym, played video games and got yelled at for lying out and tanning in our short silkies.  It was the scene from Black Hawk Down before the mission that we had all grown up imagining.  Despite being on the largest US military base in Afghanistan we were completely segregated from the rest of the military.  We didn’t have to pull gate guard shifts and we didn’t have to abide by the rules of the rest of the Army.  When we were in the states we never interacted with the rest of the military but to some degree, we had to on this base.

We shared a chow hall and a running track.  It was very common to have a First Sergeant or Sergeant Major from another unit stop us because we weren't in the same uniform or our rifle had a bunch of cool guy shit on it that they had never seen.  I recall being yelled at while on a 16
-mile run for not having a reflective belt on by a guy who I assumed had never actually been on a mission before.