One night three or four years ago, the phone rang in the wee hours of the morning. It was Chris calling to say goodbye. He had his side arm loaded and he was done. It had been a few years since he’d come back from Iraq to no job, no wife, and no home. Though he’d struggled to rebuild what was left, he was angry and confused. And he was still fighting the war in his mind. He felt very alone.
This was not the first time he’d called to say goodbye, but it was the first time since we’d become close that he’d decided it was time to take his own life.
That night I found out what it was like to talk someone down from suicide. It’s an unpleasant experience especially when the person on the other end of the line is the love of your life and you can’t get to him.
I don’t remember a lot of the 45-minute conversation but I can still hear the click of his weapon against the phone. It was as close to losing him as I’ve ever been. And though he’s spoken of suicide many times since it has only been in passing about how things used to be.
I have stood on both sides of this particular fence, so I'd like to take a second to thank every person who has ever taken the hand of someone who has reached out to them in their lowest moment.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
In His Own Words - Part 2
Tell me about your first day there.
Hit the ground running. We immediately went to work. We didn’t even get time to unpack.
How do they expect you to just fall in?
You’re trained to. We did our job. But it’s different on an emergency response side. We ran ambulances at home so we were prepared from some of it.
But I never saw anything in the states like I saw there. I saw things I’d be hard pressed to see at a level-three trauma unit. They don’t have to deal with blast damage.
Were the injuries shocking?
We didn’t have time to let them shock us… like watching Predator today [Chris imitates Jesse Ventura] “I ain’t got time to bleed.”
He smiles, but these discussions weigh heavy on him. I know the injuries were shocking even if he doesn’t admit they were. He speaks often about just doing his job.
Did you shut down emotionally?
Yeah, at work it’s an assembly line. If a mechanic got attached to every car they worked on, you know? No emotional attachment while working. You grieve after hours. And you grieve.
Along with that comes a sick and twisted sense of humor. That’s how I got my nickname Dr. Evil. You laugh about things, never at the patient but you laugh… if you have time to do so. A sense of humor is for when you have time. It has a time and a place.
But you have to have a sense of humor or you’ll end up capping yourself in the field. I know it’s like some hokey MASH Hawkeye bullsh-t, but it’s true… though everyone has worked under someone who can’t find the funny.
What about working on the enemy?
What about it? [He’s almost defensive here as though I’ve accused him of giving aid and comfort.] It’s harder when they’re conscious. [Chris imitates Farsi] Shut the f-k up. Yeah, it irritated me.
We’re they kept afterward, after you worked on them?
It depended. If they were just kids. [Chris hesitates and takes a long drag on his cigarette] Not everyone in Iraq are the baddies. The media would like you to think that, but there are some f-king nice people in Iraq. This isn’t some f-king John Wayne movie from WWII. See someone Japanese and they’re automatically the enemy. There are good people.
The roughest part was the kids. They used to pay them.
Pay them to what?
Lob grenades at Humvees and sh-t.
No way.
Yeah.
Chris begins to speak without prompts. It is a story he has never told me before. Somehow, I’d come to believe he’d opened up to me completely and shown me everything he had hidden inside.
This one time a group of insurgents decided to come onto the base. They came across the wire, they thought this is going to be fun. We’re going to take down the airport. This is after President Bush stood on the carrier in his flight suit and announced Mission Accomplished.
Sixty of these little c-ks-kers climbed the wall at lunchtime right behind the DFAC [the dining hall for those who aren’t familiar with the thousands of acronyms the military uses].
I got it just then. Dining hall and lunchtime equaled bad choice for the insurgents.
That hall held around 200. Two hundred guys with weapons slung. It honest to god had a parking lot it was so big. Those [derogatory term] just started shooting. It was 60 against 200 immediately. And then it was 60 against everybody because everyone heard shots and acted. Then it was 30 against everybody, then 10. I’ve taken sh-ts that lasted longer than this invasion.
The ones who didn’t get blown the f-k up went back over the wall and back to the hooch where they’d planned the whole thing. So we decimated the house, mark 19s. BaBoom boom boom. We had Abrams from the parking lot rolling on that sumbitch.
There were three survivors. The mastermind and two kids. An eleven year old girl and a younger boy.
Why were there children there?
The kids lived there. Daddy was one of bad ones. He used to have the boy throw grenades into the humvees. [Chris stops here and shakes his head] I don’t feel comfortable talking about this, I just don’t.
Okay, then let’s go back to my original questions. Did you get to sleep regular?
No.
Was there a time when you had to have sleep for the safety of the patients?
No. I worked 46 hours straight more than once, we all did. Hell, I’ve eaten over an open abdomen. I don’t remember what it was but I remember being fed while I was working.
Um, gross.
Chris shrugs. It was just a job and you did what you had to do.
You went over there a medic, but your duties changed big time didn’t they? You were expected to almost be a doctor after while.
Your duties changed no matter what. You’re a soldier first, medic or whatever second, then after that you’re anything the f-king commander wants or needs you to be.
He hesitates.
I can patch people up gumball style. I can take things out.
I interrupt. You were a doctor.
No. I don’t want to call myself that. I’m not a doctor. I don’t have that training.
Chris begins talking faster than I can type, and unfortunately I’m not sure why we got on this subject other than the neighbors being noisy and rude.
Today, Labor Day. If it was on the calendar it was a bad f-king day. [derogatory term]likes to catch you with your pants down because [derogatory term]thinks all Americans are lazy and like to party. But [derogatory term] got it broken off in his -ss.
Another drag on the cigarette and a bit of a smile.
We tried to have a good time as best as we could. But you put miracle whip on a sh-t sandwich and it’s still a sh-t sandwich.
Next time can you tell me about the fun times?
We had fun. We tried. But there wasn’t much. Sh-t sandwich. Can you read this to me after you’re done? I don’t want to come off like…
Understand, this is a story being filtered through me, a civilian. So the details I pull out as important will be different that what jump out at you, but yes, I will read it to you once I’m done.
Thank you.
Hit the ground running. We immediately went to work. We didn’t even get time to unpack.
How do they expect you to just fall in?
You’re trained to. We did our job. But it’s different on an emergency response side. We ran ambulances at home so we were prepared from some of it.
But I never saw anything in the states like I saw there. I saw things I’d be hard pressed to see at a level-three trauma unit. They don’t have to deal with blast damage.
Were the injuries shocking?
We didn’t have time to let them shock us… like watching Predator today [Chris imitates Jesse Ventura] “I ain’t got time to bleed.”
He smiles, but these discussions weigh heavy on him. I know the injuries were shocking even if he doesn’t admit they were. He speaks often about just doing his job.
Did you shut down emotionally?
Yeah, at work it’s an assembly line. If a mechanic got attached to every car they worked on, you know? No emotional attachment while working. You grieve after hours. And you grieve.
Along with that comes a sick and twisted sense of humor. That’s how I got my nickname Dr. Evil. You laugh about things, never at the patient but you laugh… if you have time to do so. A sense of humor is for when you have time. It has a time and a place.
But you have to have a sense of humor or you’ll end up capping yourself in the field. I know it’s like some hokey MASH Hawkeye bullsh-t, but it’s true… though everyone has worked under someone who can’t find the funny.
What about working on the enemy?
What about it? [He’s almost defensive here as though I’ve accused him of giving aid and comfort.] It’s harder when they’re conscious. [Chris imitates Farsi] Shut the f-k up. Yeah, it irritated me.
We’re they kept afterward, after you worked on them?
It depended. If they were just kids. [Chris hesitates and takes a long drag on his cigarette] Not everyone in Iraq are the baddies. The media would like you to think that, but there are some f-king nice people in Iraq. This isn’t some f-king John Wayne movie from WWII. See someone Japanese and they’re automatically the enemy. There are good people.
The roughest part was the kids. They used to pay them.
Pay them to what?
Lob grenades at Humvees and sh-t.
No way.
Yeah.
Chris begins to speak without prompts. It is a story he has never told me before. Somehow, I’d come to believe he’d opened up to me completely and shown me everything he had hidden inside.
This one time a group of insurgents decided to come onto the base. They came across the wire, they thought this is going to be fun. We’re going to take down the airport. This is after President Bush stood on the carrier in his flight suit and announced Mission Accomplished.
Sixty of these little c-ks-kers climbed the wall at lunchtime right behind the DFAC [the dining hall for those who aren’t familiar with the thousands of acronyms the military uses].
I got it just then. Dining hall and lunchtime equaled bad choice for the insurgents.
That hall held around 200. Two hundred guys with weapons slung. It honest to god had a parking lot it was so big. Those [derogatory term] just started shooting. It was 60 against 200 immediately. And then it was 60 against everybody because everyone heard shots and acted. Then it was 30 against everybody, then 10. I’ve taken sh-ts that lasted longer than this invasion.
The ones who didn’t get blown the f-k up went back over the wall and back to the hooch where they’d planned the whole thing. So we decimated the house, mark 19s. BaBoom boom boom. We had Abrams from the parking lot rolling on that sumbitch.
There were three survivors. The mastermind and two kids. An eleven year old girl and a younger boy.
Why were there children there?
The kids lived there. Daddy was one of bad ones. He used to have the boy throw grenades into the humvees. [Chris stops here and shakes his head] I don’t feel comfortable talking about this, I just don’t.
Okay, then let’s go back to my original questions. Did you get to sleep regular?
No.
Was there a time when you had to have sleep for the safety of the patients?
No. I worked 46 hours straight more than once, we all did. Hell, I’ve eaten over an open abdomen. I don’t remember what it was but I remember being fed while I was working.
Um, gross.
Chris shrugs. It was just a job and you did what you had to do.
You went over there a medic, but your duties changed big time didn’t they? You were expected to almost be a doctor after while.
Your duties changed no matter what. You’re a soldier first, medic or whatever second, then after that you’re anything the f-king commander wants or needs you to be.
He hesitates.
I can patch people up gumball style. I can take things out.
I interrupt. You were a doctor.
No. I don’t want to call myself that. I’m not a doctor. I don’t have that training.
Chris begins talking faster than I can type, and unfortunately I’m not sure why we got on this subject other than the neighbors being noisy and rude.
Today, Labor Day. If it was on the calendar it was a bad f-king day. [derogatory term]likes to catch you with your pants down because [derogatory term]thinks all Americans are lazy and like to party. But [derogatory term] got it broken off in his -ss.
Another drag on the cigarette and a bit of a smile.
We tried to have a good time as best as we could. But you put miracle whip on a sh-t sandwich and it’s still a sh-t sandwich.
Next time can you tell me about the fun times?
We had fun. We tried. But there wasn’t much. Sh-t sandwich. Can you read this to me after you’re done? I don’t want to come off like…
Understand, this is a story being filtered through me, a civilian. So the details I pull out as important will be different that what jump out at you, but yes, I will read it to you once I’m done.
Thank you.
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