Mass Casualties: A Young Medic's True Story of Death, Deception, and Dishonor in Iraq (18 page)

After his first attempt I wasn't sure how to address him. I wasn't sure how things had changed, but it felt different. Certain jokes are off limits, as are certain movies in the break room; everyone starts walking on eggshells. I gave Crade space, thinking that he could sort things out on his own. The irony is that all this most likely added to his depression.

“Anthony, they're going to send him home… . ” Hudge looks my way, speaking for the first time in twenty minutes.

“ … so he can get the right care he needs … and deserves.

We've all got to watch him, stay with him for a few hours on suicide watch during the shifts….”

I nod yes and we continue sitting in silence.

WEEK 3, DAY 5, IRAQ

1600 HOURS, ICU

“What am I supposed to do with him for four hours?” I ask Denti.

“Play cards with him, read a book, watch a movie — I don't know,” he says.

I grab a book from the bookshelf and head toward the ICU. Hernley and Crade are sitting there watching a movie on a laptop.

They're both sitting on the bed together and laughing, as if nothing ever happened. I try to act as if everything is cool, and I don't tell them why I'm there. But they know, so I sit down and read my book while they finish the movie. A few minutes later Hernley goes back to work.

“Hey, now don't go killing yourself on my watch,” I chuckle.

An awkward silence follows and Crade stares at me expressionless. I decide to follow it up with something else.

“What … too soon for those jokes?”

Another awkward silence follows, but this one seems more deliberate. Crade cracks a smile, I smile back at him, and we both give a lighthearted laugh. I can see in his eyes that he wants to talk. I reach into my pocket and take out a deck of cards that Denti gave me.

“Rummy 500?” I say.

“Let's do it,” Crade replies.

I'm supposed to be there making him not want to kill himself, as if suddenly playing a game of Rummy 500 with me will give him a new perspective on life. Hell, with all the tension, anxiety, and awkwardness in the room, after a few hours I might want to kill myself.

WEEK 4, DAY 4, IRAQ

1300 HOURS, OR

I remember when I was a little kid I had a goldfish named Spike. I had Spike for a week before he died, and before I even got a chance to properly mourn Spike's death my parents bought me a new fish. Crade has only been gone for a few days and his replacement is already here: Specialist Cather. Cather is a tall black man with hands the size of those foam fingers you see at sporting events. He is fifty-eight years old and is the same rank as me — which I know is impressive, because it's not easy to be that old and still be at such a low rank.

Today, on Cather's first day, we've decided to throw him on first shift so that he can get acquainted with the speed of the cases. With Cather's old age and gigantic hands, he's a disaster. Many cases we work with require fine, delicate instruments, and Cather's bulbous hands are too large to grasp the tiny instruments. Cather is on his third case today and he tells me he's done trying.

“I'll tell ya, Anthony. I'm too old for this stuff . I think I'll just clean instruments from now on. Or maybe Gagney can put me in charge of the inventory or something for the move — now that I can do.”

WEEK 4, DAY 7, IRAQ

1300 HOURS, OR

When we first heard we were moving Gagney had us do an inventory count. Then two weeks later he had us do another, then another, then another, each time swearing that it would be the last. And every time we do an inventory we all end up working between twelve to sixteen hours every day for a week. The unit that's taking over our hospital came in last night. They want us to do a full inventory of all the equipment we're signing over to them.

Reto and I stop unloading equipment from the conex to take a cigarette break. I take the pack out of my pocket.

We take long, slow drags. Denti finally gets back after over an hour.

“Hey, what is it, break time? You guys were supposed to be working while I was gone.”

“What, are you kidding me? I'm supposed to be on second shift. I'm not even supposed to be here right now, but I'm working while you're inside doing God knows what,” Reto is yelling.

“Relax,” Denti replies. “You hear one of the members of their unit has already been caught having sex with someone from our unit?” Denti laughs to himself. “It was that hillbilly girl, too, Specialist Bane.”

At the mention of Specialist Bane, Reto nods his head and I laugh. Bane is probably one of the most slovenly soldiers in our unit. She has grease permanently caked in her hair and spends her days retelling Jeff Foxworthy jokes. I take pleasure in hearing that Bane slept with a soldier from the new unit, partly because it makes our unit look bad to the other unit and it's like wearing a badge of honor, and also because Bane is Specialist Boredo's girlfriend.

BBBAAAMMMM!!!

BBBBAAAAMMMM!!!!

BUNKERS! BUNKERS! BUNKERS!

Maybe, I suppose, we won't be leaving soon enough.

MONTH 5

“I WASN'T PREPARED FOR THIS.”

WEEK 1, DAY 4, ANBAR PROVINCE, IRAQ

1300 HOURS, NEW BASE

We're finally at our new base. The luscious trees and chirping birds we lived with in the northern part of Iraq are gone. They've been replaced with two trees and lots of sand. This is the Iraq that people picture in their heads if they've never been here: open spaces, buildings no higher than two stories, and massive sandstorms.

This former Marine base is much bigger and the buildings are more spread apart than what we've been used to. The dining facility and the hospital are now further away from our rooms. Actually, our new hospital still hasn't been built yet. One of the supply lines bringing us the parts was hit and it delayed the whole process. We were told to sit tight and relax given that there's nothing to do — and to check in twice a day with Gagney. He has decided that we need to check in with him whenever we go anywhere and then every couple of hours even if we don't. In the morning before and after breakfast we check in, the same for lunch, dinner, and when we go to the gym or the community room.

WEEK 1, DAY 7, IRAQ

1300 HOURS, MY ROOM

Torres and Denti are now my roommates, along with Markham. There are four of us, or I suppose five of us. Torres's girlfriend, Cardoza, has decided to spend most her nights with him, bunking in our room. They spend most of their time watching movies and giggling.

A National Guardsman named Tom, who lives next door to us and has been here sixteen months with two more left on his tour, is starting to make me afraid:

“We'd been in Iraq for a year and it was time to go home. We sent all of our stuff back — books, uniforms, movies, laptops, radios — everything. We loaded all of our gear onto the plane, had our orders in hand, and then it happened. An officer came aboard the plane, looked at us, and said, ‘Unlock boys, we just got extended for another six months.’ That was four months ago. A television station even did a story on us, after a bunch of our families complained back home. But nothing happened; you know how it is. It's the military. We have no choice.”

Tom keeps talking, and I don't want to hear what he has to say. I don't want to even imagine getting extended another six months. I want a choice.

WEEK 2, DAY 2, IRAQ

1700 HOURS, AUDITORIUM

Mandatory meeting: While our hospital is being built, the GOBs have decided to do some unit restructuring. We're waiting for the changes to be announced. Reto is sitting next to me, and we started playing tic-tac-toe. He won one game, I've won once, and we've tied eleven times.

“Let's give a big round of applause for Command Sergeant Major Ridge,” Colonel Jelly says from the stage. There are two hundred of us in the room and six people clap. Colonel Jelly announces that Command Sergeant Major Ridge is retiring and that we're getting a new command sergeant major in a few days.

“You know what's really going on, right?” Reto says as he places an
X
at the top right.