Mass Casualties: A Young Medic's True Story of Death, Deception, and Dishonor in Iraq (30 page)

MONTH 12

“THE GODDAMN ARMY MADE ME A MAN.”

WEEK 1, DAY 6, IRAQ

0700 HOURS, OR

“Anthony, guess what the GOBs are up to now?” Torres yells as I open the door to the hospital. “They want us to look like the perfect unit that doesn't have everyone sleeping with each other. CSM Lavaled even went up to Cardoza and told her that we have to cool it.

“They're cracking down on couples. We're supposed to set a good example for the unit that's going to replace us. Do you believe that? After letting everyone do whatever they wanted for the past year, now they want to crack the whip so they can look good. They've got their bitch, CSM Lavaled, doing all of the dirty work.”

Laveled has been making the rounds telling everyone to cool their jets, and everyone has been complying. That is until Lavaled comes across an officer in the pharmacy section named Captain Welch. He's six feet tall, 100 percent Scottish. He's also married and having an affair with a married woman, Colonel Gollen, who is an Asian doctor in the ICW.

“Excuse me, Sergeant Major Lavaled, stand at attention when you talk to me,” Captain Welch yells. “Sergeant major, you are in charge of the enlisted for your section. What makes you think that you can give me an order? I am an officer. I take my orders from Colonel Jelly, not from some enlisted soldier.”

Sergeant Major Lavaled is now standing erect at the position of attention.

“Sir, my orders are coming direct from Colonel Jelly,” he replies.

“Sergeant Major, I don't think you understand the chain of command. If Colonel Jelly wants to give me an order he can do it himself. I don't need to follow orders given or relayed by you. Do you understand that?”

Sergeant Major Lavaled bites his lip. He's used to being in charge of enlisted soldiers and making everyone act subservient around him. Now he has to do the same to the officer.

Sergeant Major Lavaled goes straight back to Colonel Jelly's office. Jelly tells Lavaled to handle the problem with Welch and Gollen and to let them know it's a direct order from him. Lavaled pages Welch and Gollen, and they come to his office.

“I need to speak to you one at time please,” Lavaled begins.

“I don't think so; you can speak to both of us at the same time,” Welch retorts.

“Listen, sir, it is a direct order from Colonel Jelly.”

“We don't need to talk to you,” Gollen jumps in.

“Fine, whatever, I'll talk to you,” Welch says and walks inside Command Sergeant Major Lavaled's office.

“I'm coming too then,” Gollen protests, and follows Welch toward the office. Lavaled jumps in front of her and pushes her back, closing the door behind him. Stunned, Gollen stands there, and ten seconds later she opens the door to find Welch and Lavaled holding each other by their shirts, ready to hit one another.

“What are you two doing…?” Gollen screams and grabs Welch by the arm and pulls him away.

WEEK 2, DAY 3, IRAQ

1700 HOURS, OR

“Hey Anthony, you heard about Sergeant Major Lavaled and Colonel Gollen?” Reto asks me as we wrap surgical tape around a broom handle and get ready for another day of indoor OR baseball.

“I heard about Lavaled and Welch almost getting into a fight. Is that what you're talking about?”

“Nah, man, haven't you noticed how Lavaled and Jelly haven't been around for a few days?”

“Yeah.”

“It's because Lavaled is at a hearing in Baghdad. Gollen filed a sexual harassment claim against him saying that he showed her his penis.”

“Haha, what are you talking about?”

“Well, apparently Gollen filed a complaint, and no one took it seriously because they had all heard about how she broke up a fight between Welch and Lavaled. She then went on record and said that Lavaled has a tattoo of Winnie-the-Pooh, slightly above and to the right of his penis.”

“Winnie-the-Pooh?”

“True story, I swear. So once Gollen says this they check out Lavaled, and sure enough he's got the tattoo in the exact same spot she described. Winnie-the-Pooh in all his glory, and Gollen described it in detail, too, right down to the jar of honey.”

“So what, they had sex or something?”

“No, man. Here's the best part. A few weeks ago, Lavaled was at the gym and he ran into Gollen. They started talking about abdominal muscles, and Lavaled lifted up his shirt to show off his abs. Gollen saw just the top of the tattoo. She asked him to pull down his shorts at an angle, so as to still cover his cock but show off the rest of the tattoo.”

“That's insane.”

“It's his word against hers.”

WEEK 3, DAY 2, IRAQ

1100 HOURS, POST OFFICE

I grab my boxes and head to the post office. Send it home: movies, clothes, books, everything. On the way out I see Sergeant Cost coming in. She's got a cart full of fifteen large packages. I begin to wonder how much stuff she could actually have.

1130 HOURS, MY ROOM

“Hey, man, did you get all your stuff mailed out?” Torres asks me as I walk back into our room.

“Yeah I did, it was crazy. Sergeant Cost goes in there with like fifteen packages to send home.”

“Were they on a cart and wrapped in white paper?”

“Yeah.”

“She did that yesterday, too, a cart full of packages — ”

Torres and I begin discussing all the different possibilities of what she could be mailing home in all of those packages.

“You guys talking about Cost?” Markham is saying.

“Yeah.”

“You know, I was at the post office three days ago and, I'm not even kidding, she was mailing like twenty packages home. I was curious what she was mailing home so I ask around the hospital. You know those Soldier's Angels packages we're always getting?”

Torres and I nod our heads.

Soldier's Angels is a group of caring and concerned citizens who send supplies to the soldiers overseas. Throughout the year, we've received hundreds and hundreds of packages from them that we keep with the other surplus goods: soaps, shampoos, candy, cookies, razors, lotions, anything and everything.

“So I asked around,” Markham says as he picks up his guitar and begins to play. “And it turns out she's been saving all of the Solider's Angels packages she's received throughout the year here.

She's sending them home so that she won't have to buy anything for years. She's raided the surplus supply room at the post office, too.”

WEEK 4, DAY 5, IRAQ

1100 HOURS, OR

The unit that is replacing us is all finally here. Colonel Reke and Gagney are giving the soldiers a tour as well as their commander, sergeant major, and a handful of colonels. In the OR break room, me, Reto, Torres, Denti, Chandler, Hudge, Elster, Sellers, Waters, and Cather are standing around, I suppose saying goodbye. It's our last day here. Colonel Reke and Gagney bring the tour past us; we're all talking and having fun with each other. The soldiers from the new unit ask us questions. Reto grabs two Snapples out of the refrigerator. He hands one to me and pops the top off of the one for himself, reading the fun little fact that's printed on the inside of the cap. Across the room, Gagney sees him and wants to show Reke and all the other colonels that he's friends with his troops. He yells across the room, “Hey Reto, what does the cap say?” The room goes silent. Pleased that everyone is paying attention to him — and how hip he looks in front of the other soldiers — Gagney, and everyone, wait patiently as Reto reads out the fact:

“On average a human will spend up to two weeks kissing in his/her lifetime.”

Gagney, looking to take his coolness up a notch, says, “Wow, ha ha, I guess I've already had more than my lifetime's worth of kissing. Hell, I'll do that my first month back.” There are a few stifled laughs, and you can smell the awkwardness in the air. Suddenly, like a bolt of lightning, I get a brilliant idea. It might get me in trouble, but I just don't care. It's too perfect, I've got to do it … I might get in trouble….

I've got to say it, quick, before the moment passes… . Patience…. Wait for the right moment…. Now! Go! Say it!

“I think they mean kissing someone on the lips, not on the ass.”

A few seconds pass in silence. Everyone looks at each other and takes in the comment. Then the entire room bursts into gut-wrenching laughter; all the colonels (even Reke) start laughing, and, of course, Reto and I do, too. After seeing everyone else, Gagney tries to fake a laugh.

Gagney's power over us is gone, and now those with actual character and personality are back in charge.

Tomorrow we leave for Kuwait, then Wisconsin for a week to do out-processing, and then we leave to go back home — for good.

THE LAST DAY

0900 HOURS, FLIGHT HOME

“I think I'm going to be sick,” says Reto.

Our entire unit, both the northern and southern hospitals, are on one plane ride home, and Reto comes by to tell me what he just heard.

“Why, what's up?” I say.

“So I was in my seat sitting behind Sergeant Blett, and she was sitting with Hikenski and Travis and they were all telling each other how they can't wait to be home with their husband and kids.”