Friendly Fire!

Always had a sixth sense…which I attributed to Divine care. Our platoon moved rapidly to a potential LZ (landing zone) for immediate extraction. We were reportedly near a large enemy force; we would extract and then come back at them, on our terms. Some areas held dense growth. However, this site could be quickly prepared. A team began clearing some small trees. They strapped claymore (anti-personnel) mines to them. It was a crude, but an effective means to clear an area quickly.

I sat near my favorite radio operator. He would call for extra fire protection, whenever we got a cry for medic. That unofficial  relationship was a missing piece that I picked up over time.  He knew that I made house calls and put the word out as soon as I needed to move. That split second timing made the difference between a smart move or fatal move. Even when no one is hit, being near him cut the typical confusion that develops during a firefight. I could surmise the state of things from his communication.

After the first blast, I grew uncomfortable. I asked my radioman friend, “Where’s the farthest squad from this?” He replied, “The rear squad has set up an ambush down this back trail. I said, “If you need me, that’s exactly where I’m going!” Well…I surprised the troops with a friendly visit. I sat out on a tangent, away from those blasts. The troops said I should shoot at anything that moves from this point on!

It wasn’t five minutes when I heard the cries, “medic…MEDIC!” I retraced my steps to my former position. The RTO (radio operator) had been hit in the head with a claymore fragment. (I had been sitting right next to him.) The frag had entered his mouth and exited his neck. The external bleeding was minimal, considering a head wound. His rucksack held him upright…but we released his straps. The position was good for his labored breathing. We used swabs to keep his throat cleared.

The internal damage would have to be ascertained at the clearing station. I asked the guys to watch his breathing while I prepared the IV. This was one of those times I prayed for a miracle. Some men are tough and have a strong will to live. I could see the fight in our RTO. The medevac came quickly, throwing a cable down through the trees. We tucked the IV bottle in his shirt…he still managed a good fight as he ascended.

I felt a bit lost for a couple of days. The Lieutenant came up and said the RTO was doing fine.  The frag had somehow missed the most vital areas of his head and neck. There again, I looked up after that news…we needed good news.

I used the term friendly fire loosely. But I think I used it within its broader definition. We carried much lethal equipment. Accidental use of equipment or mistakes in judgment could give the same unwanted results, as any intentional enemy. These instances are always common. To err is human.

Trauma is reduced in the medical system, that begins in the field. Life or death remains the major consideration. However, the length of  time and degree of recuperation also depend on this medically strategic system…minutes matter.

Currahees…we rallied under Doc Lovy…and we still do. Our war was to rob the Grim Reaper. Those were mighty good wins.