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Posted on 04/05/2003 7:10:02 PM PST by wzlboy
3rd Infantry soldiers riding next to reporter wounded
Medic's 15-minute struggle to save their lives seemed to last hours
By RON MARTZ
Atlanta Journal-Constitution Staff Writer
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With Charlie Co., Task Force 1-64, Baghdad, Iraq -- The soldiers were there for a reason.
The logical, rational explanation is that they were there because their tank caught fire and had to be destroyed. So, without a ride, they jumped onto the armored personnel carrier with me.
I prefer to believe it was the hand of God that put them there, one behind me, one to my left. They were there to protect me.
Had they not been there, I most likely would not be now typing this.
Less than 30 minutes after the two soldiers joined me, both were wounded by bullets that could have hit me.
The soldier behind me was hit in the left wrist and the left eye by a bullet that struck the side of the armored personnel carrier and shattered.
The soldier to my immediate left had a bullet hit him in the right arm, just a few inches from my left arm. The bullet broke his arm, entered his body just below his armpit and came out his back.
I know their names, but will not disclose them until their families are notified.
They were the only two casualties suffered by Charlie Co. as it drove north Saturday with Task Force 1-64 into the heart of the capital of Iraq and the stronghold of Saddam Hussein. Both were evacuated by helicopter and were reported in stable condition Saturday night.
That more were not wounded is nothing less than a minor miracle.
Bullets and rocket-propelled grenades peppered the convoy of armored vehicles for miles as it drove north and then east through the capital and on to what is now being called Baghdad International Airport, rather than Saddam International Airport.
The combat patrol was a statement by American forces that they are in Iraq to oust Saddam Hussein, and the move into central Baghdad served to show the flag with an unprecedented display of armored power in a major city.
The two young soldiers had been a few vehicles ahead of the armored personnel carrier when an anti-tank rocket hit their tank, causing a fire that they could not extinguish. For about 15 minutes the crew and other soldiers from the company hauled five-gallon containers of water to the tank and poured it into the engine.
While they were doing this they were under attack by small arms and rocket-propelled grenades. Several soldiers, including the two who would later join me, jumped off the tank and began attacking sand-bagged bunkers with M-16s and M-4 carbines.
When a decision was made to abandon the tank, the crew and others scrambled to salvage weapons, maps, sensitive electronics gear and personal items.
About two dozen empty five-gallon cans were thrown in the back of the personnel carrier with me. Then several hundred pounds of gear and the two soldiers followed.
The soldiers took up firing positions on top of the armored vehicle, shooting at bunkers and enemy vehicles, artillery pieces and anti-aircraft weapons.
'He's hit!'
We were rolling slowing along a broad, divided highway with trees on either side when the solder next to me shouted: "Ow! My arm!"
He lifted his right arm and I could see a spurt of blood from under his armpit.
"He's hit!" I yelled to the assistant medic, Spec. Shawn Sullivan, 24, of Jacksonville, who was riding with us.
As I pulled the soldier back into the vehicle I turned and looked at the other soldier behind me. He was slumped forward, his head on the roof, blood streaming out of the wound in his head.
Sullivan pulled him down into the overcrowded vehicle.
Thus began what I was told was a 15-minute struggle to save their lives and get them to the airport for medical evacuation by helicopter. It seemed more like hours.
Sullivan quickly bandaged the head of the soldier who had been behind me. I was sprawled in the corner of the vehicle, the other soldier on top of me, blood pumping out of his wounds.
Sullivan and I struggled to extricate his medical supplies from under the hundreds of pounds of extra gear that littered the floor. Finally, Sullivan gave up and began fashioning plastic bandages for the sucking chest wound to keep the soldier's lungs from filling with blood.
"Hang on!" Sullivan yelled to them. "We're going to get you out of here!"
I cradled the soldier's head in one hand, while trying to get his flak jacket and shirt off so Sullivan could bandage him. Blood was spattered all over the inside the vehicle. My left leg was sticky with the blood from the soldier with the chest wound.
"Talk to them! Have them squeeze your hand!" Sullivan shouted to me.
So, I talked to them. I told them they were getting out of this nasty little war that some experts had said would last five days and would be quick and easy.
"You're going to be OK," I told them. "No more MREs. You'll get hot showers, cold beer and good-looking nurses."
"Hold my hand," the soldier with the chest wound asked.
My gloves were soaked with blood as I grabbed his hand.
He smiled.
"Thanks," he said. "I think I'm ready to go home now."
Racing toward help
Sullivan worked furiously as we headed for the airport and the medical evacuation helicopters.
He worked on both the wounded at the same time, all the while exhorting the driver to go faster, cursing the helicopters for not being on time, trying to remain calm in the face of chaos.
We got to the airport and quickly extracted the two wounded soldiers, put them on stretchers and Sullivan continued his work. Within minutes the helicopters arrived, showering us with dust and dirt.
I shielded the one soldier's head with my body to keep the dust off his face.
"I'm starting to black out," he said.
"Don't black out! Stay with me!" I ordered him. "You're getting out of here!"
And then the helicopters arrived and the medics whisked them off to a rear medical station. From there, it's off to Germany before they head for home.
When they had gone, I collapsed against the side of the armored vehicle. I was drenched in sweat. My mouth was dry. My gloves and left side were soaked in blood.
A few inches more, and it would have been me flying off on those helicopters, my blood staining the stretcher. Instead, I was unscathed, thanks to those two soldiers. I will forever be indebted to them.
Thanks also, I believe, to the hand of God.
Shades of Ernie Pyle! A war reporter who cares.
Yes, of course, it's all about you. God wants you to live safely through this "nasty little war that some people said would be over in 5 days." God's dragging it out to help your career.
JERK..He should have stayed home with Momma.
"There are no atheists in foxholes." -- William Thomas Cummings (1903-1945).
I don't know where these people get this. I NEVER ONCE heard ANYONE say this war would be quick.
In fact, President Bush has said MANY times that it would take time.
Should'a been the reporter hit instead of our boys.
Reporter got a kick is the butt by the higher power....let's see what he does with that now.....
I really dislike this sort of testament. It means that the hand of God that protected him, allowed the bullets to hit those two brave soldiers. I don't believe God works in that manner.
Instead of feeling thankful, if it had been me, I would have felt guilt that I had not been hurt BECAUSE soldiers had been in the line of fire instead of me.
I believe in God and the power of prayer, but I also believe that circumstances happen, -- without the hand of God.
From my experience in peace and war, I believe that nothing happens without the hand of God.
I don't have either the exact reference or the exact quotation, but the person who said it was none other than Bill Clinton, in a recent remark. Somehow, Clinton's remark has since been tied to the Bush administration, although I agree with you that no responsible person there has made such a claim.
My complaint is really with the phrase "Thank God it wasn't me who was shot, killed, whatever----. God was watching over me." It's as tho God was only looking out for the speaker, and not the others, and I don't believe that is so.
I know kindly people use that phrase without thinking, because they are thankful that they lived through something terrible, but it bothers me.
North and then East? Do they mean West? The airport is to the west of baghdad. This sort of stuff drives me nuts. I can't trust the details of any reporter.
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