Published: May 04, 2008 12:35 am            

THORNBURY: Seeing the difference in the middle of war

I had allowed my cough to worsen and work down into my chest. My OIC (Officer in Charge) instructed me throughout the day, “If you are not better in the morning, you’re going to sick call.” I acknowledged him, secretly wishing for some miracle to come along and exorcise this cough from my chest. I have an aversion to going to the doctor, civilian or military, and have found that I can usually find something over-the-counter to take care of my illnesses.

We had been at Balad (Camp Anaconda) for an extensive period of time waiting for a mission. So, my cough really started there, but when we arrived at Camp Taji — it got worse.

Honestly, my fear was more that the cough would work further into my chest creating bigger issues and keeping me from my job. Our “S1 shop” for the squadron headquarters, the civilian equivalent of a human resources department in a corporation, was already down from our 100 percent strength of seven soldiers, to merely myself and my lieutenant — with the same amount of work to be accomplished.

So, we determined early on that if one of us went down with an injury or illness, it would be rough for the remaining member of the two-man-team.

Heeding my officer’s orders, I started toward ”sick call” in hopes of finding some sort of relief.

After checking in with the front desk of the “Hale Koa” medical clinic (this clinic was run by the 25th Infantry Division, “Tropic Lightning,” based out of Hawaii), I took a seat and waited for my turn to be seen by the doctor. The doctor determined that my problems didn’t require any type of exorcism and told me to go to the waiting area to wait for my prescriptions.

As I waited, I picked up a magazine and began to read.

Within seconds, the scene changed. Across the loudspeaker, a female voiced stated with authority: “Trauma Team to Trauma, Trauma Team to Trauma.” Based on what I saw from my perspective, these medical professionals reacted with skill and discipline. No one raised their voice or became easily excited, but there was a sense of purpose in how they were responding to this event.

As the medics took their positions, a young Iraqi man came into the waiting area with an Army linguist and a few other American soldiers.

The linguist and soldiers were still wearing their body armor and carrying their Kevlar helmets. They appeared to be worn down a little from the constant wear of body armor (which anyone who has worn it for any length of time will attest that this stuff is not light), but seemed mentally prepared for whatever the next task might be.

When the young Iraqi man entered the room, either out of respect or simply as a way of saying thank you, he walked up to every single American in the waiting area and personally shook their hands. He then calmly sat next to the linguist. He conversed a few times with the linguist, but chose to remain seated for the remainder of his short stay.

After a few minutes, you could hear the Blackhawk helicopter approaching the building, beating the air with its blades.

As the aircraft landed, the medical staff made a brief appearance back in the hallway. With the doors open and the noise of the helicopter echoing into the facility, the staff was quick to bring their patient out on a stretcher, headed for the landing zone. As I looked at the patient, I realized this was a young Iraqi boy (maybe nine or 10, from what I could see). He was unconscious with various tubes and cords attached to or going into his body. I still do not know what was wrong with this boy or what the outcome was once he left Taji. I can only be sure that if his condition warranted an ‘air medevac’ (air medical evacuation), it was serious.

In seconds, a young Iraqi male linguist in the waiting room left us and headed toward the chopper with the American soldiers.

Some in the world, and many in the United States, question our existence in Iraq. I don’t think this medical team, nor the Iraqi boy’s family, question that at all.

Jason Thornbury is a resident of Clark County and is currently deployed to Iraq with the Indiana Army National Guard. This column is the sole opinion of the writer and does not necessarily reflect the views & opinions of this newspaper, the Indiana Army National Guard or the United States Army. He may be reached by e-mail at jason.m.thornbury@us.army. mil.

        

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