Posted on 11/24/2004 1:25:56 PM PST by pissant
Baqubah, Iraq (11/22/2004) — The sky was a beautiful blue. Not a cloud to be seen anywhere. Groves of date palms filled many of the spaces between the clumps of houses. Children were standing by the roadside waving, eagerly hoping for a piece of candy to be tossed from the caravan of vehicles slowly passing by their village. Heavy traffic flowed in both directions on the highway near Baqubah, Iraq. All the Soldiers' eyes were either focused on the sides of the road or scanning rooftops and alleyways. These were Soldiers on a dangerous mission in a foreign and often hostile land. Every now and then they stole a peaceful thought about their awesome surroundings but were always careful not to lose focus.
The serenity is broken by a large explosion near the rear of the Army convoy. Every Soldier instinctively recoils as he feels the concussion envelop him. The Soldiers' hearts are racing as they look around to see if their vehicle is the one that has been hit. A roadside bomb, or improvised explosive device (IED) has gone off. Sgt. 1st Class Mark Geiss, of Williston, looks in the side mirror to check on the last vehicle, which is directly behind him. He sees a large cloud of tan dust and black smoke. He wonders to himself, "Where is the last Humvee?"
Everyone holds their breath for what is probably only a few seconds but seems like forever. Finally a voice on the radio breaks the eerie silence following the deafening blast.
"We've been hit! We've been hit hard!" It is Sgt. 1st Class Richard Marschner, of Mandan, first platoon sergeant. He and his crew in the last Humvee are responsible for rear security for this combat patrol, which is on the road to search out and destroy IEDs. The Army calls them "Trailblazers."
Geiss looks in the mirror again. He sees Marschner's Humvee emerge from the cloud. Geiss surmises it can't be too terribly bad; the Humvee is still driving and the radio is obviously working. There is hope that no one has been hurt.
The radio crackles again, "My gunner's been hit! We need a medic!" All hope is instantly shattered. The sound of Marschner's voice is serious and urgent. The Soldiers of C Company's first platoon, 141st Engineer Combat Battalion, begin to say a silent prayer and hope it can't be as bad as it sounds. But it is.
Everyone knows Marschner's gunner is Sgt. Keith O'Donnell of Fargo. This wasn't an unknown soldier. This was Keith. Keith O'Donnell ¨C the guy who would play his guitar outside the tent at night. The guy who could sing any song requested. The guy who everyone in the platoon turned to for training in infantry tactics and weapons. Keith O'Donnell seemed to be a natural-born soldier. Everyone counted on him when the chips were down.
Perhaps the North Dakota Guardsmen could have spotted the roadside bomb that severely disabled Marschner's vehicle if they hadn't been preoccupied. The Trailblazers are tasked with finding the roadside bombs before they are detonated on an unsuspecting convoy, or, as the Soldiers of C Company often say, "We try to find the IEDs before they find us."
But on this beautiful day in April, first platoon was diverted from their tedious IED patrol to respond to a call from another unit, who had just moments before been hit by an IED and desperately needed medical treatment and a security team. Always willing to help out anyone in need, these North Dakotans didn't hesitate for a second to answer the call.
The combat patrol had just picked up their speed. This may have contributed to missing the one that hit O'Donnell. But they wanted to get to the scene to help out as soon as possible. The platoon leader, 1st Lt. Donovan Blazek, of Bismarck, and each of his squad leaders were thinking about how to set up the security when they arrived at the IED attack that hit the other unit only a few kilometers away. For just a few minutes each of them lost their focus on their mission ¡ª finding IEDs before they find them. In their haste to help out fellow soldiers in distress the invisible enemy made his move.
It was a direct hit to the last Humvee. The shrapnel blew out several of the tires, destroyed the windshield and left gaping shrapnel holes all over the vehicle. Gravel and asphalt chunks were strewn across the hood and the top of the vehicle. Remarkably, only O'Donnell, who was manning the massive .50 caliber machine gun, was hit. The other three occupants suffered some temporary minor hearing loss but would be fine, at least physically. It would take the Soldiers considerably longer to heal emotionally.
Bravely driving through the chaos and terror, Spc. Justin Quinlen, of Bismarck, maneuvered the Humvee to the front of the convoy where the platoon's combat medic, Sgt. Jessica Fisher, was located. He could hardly see out of the blast-proof windshield that had been pulverized but still held together. Small chunks of shrapnel pocked the armored glass. No doubt it had saved Quinlen's life.
When the explosion came, Fisher had also been deep in thought, busy contemplating all of the possible scenarios she might face when she arrived on scene to help out the other unit. That all changed in a flash and a bang. Now she had to treat one of her own instead. Somehow the other unit would have to get by without her. O'Donnell needed immediate medical treatment if he was to live.
Before Quinlen even got to Fisher's location, Marschner and Sgt. Todd Wanner, of Bismarck, who was riding in the back of the Humvee with O'Donnell, had begun to assess O'Donnell's injuries. All United States Army Soldiers are trained in basic first aid. Wanner had additional training as a Combat Lifesaver: a step above first aid and a step below a medic.
As first platoon raced to the Troop Medical Clinic at Forward Operations Base Warhorse, north of Baqubah, Iraq, Fisher, Wanner and Marschner began the critical treatment that ultimately would save O'Donnell's life. For all of the soldiers of C Company this was a horrifying and rude awakening to the realities of combat.
THEY CALL THEM CHARLIE'S ANGELS
Charlie's Angels. That's what the Soldiers of "Charlie" Company call their medics ©¤ Sgt. Jessica Fisher, Sgt. Kristen Pagel and Sgt. Angela Magnuson. Each of them has treated ©¤ and saved the lives of ©¤ both Soldiers and civilians. Some of their patients were injured in automobile crashes, others in combat, and still others by criminal activity. Whenever tragedy strikes the Angels descend with their camouflaged first aid bags and put their healing powers to work.
Angel 1: Sgt. Jessica Fisher
Fisher grew up in Jamestown, N.D. She lives in Fargo, where she is studying to be a dental hygienist. She has plans to marry and raise a family when her combat duty is done. Fisher's father also serves in the North Dakota Army National Guard and is retiring before the end of the year after having served 28 years in the defense of our country. He was activated in 1990 for the Gulf War and hopes his daughter can get the job done this time so the United States doesn't have to come back yet again.
Within days of arriving in Iraq, this 26-year-old had already spent a very dark and scary night in March near Samarra, Iraq, trying desperately to save the life of an unknown soldier who was crushed when a Humvee rolled over. That soldier without a name would literally die in Fisher's arms. He wore a wedding ring on his left hand. That he was married is all that Fisher would ever know about him. After the incident was over, the combat patrol returned to their base camp so Fisher could change into a clean uniform before going right back out on an IED patrol again.
Fisher initially had no fear when she was assigned to the Trailblazer mission. Her experiences have changed her, though. She no longer goes to the showers alone or anywhere else on the camp.
"I never go alone because if we got mortared or hurt no one would know," she says.
She prays before and often during every mission. She tries to prepare herself for the stressful duty by listening to soft music and using a gentle body mist to relax her. After O'Donnell's incident she felt nauseous before each mission and didn't want to go back out. But she knew how much everyone counted on her, and she wouldn't dare let them down.
"I remember going to chow, no one saying anything. I came back and puked my guts out," Fisher said. "I hid tears behind my sunglasses" for several days.
Even though she finds it difficult being away from her family and friends, Fisher knows how crucial her role is in Iraq. She may be a medic but she is not only just a medic. She has found IEDs, as well. In fact, she says, "I am a Trailblazer first and a medic second." She has also trained on all of the weapons in the company and can operate them if the need should ever arise.
Fisher looks forward to returning to North Dakota when her duty is done. She says she will no longer take freedom for granted. She misses the little things: "Going to Wal-Mart. Going to get milk. Going to get stamps at the post office. Mowing the grass. Just sitting on my steps and watching the sprinklers."
Angel 2: Sgt. Angela Magnuson
Angela Magnuson grew up in Fingal, N.D. She lives in Aberdeen, S.D., where she is studying to be a laboratory technician. This 28-year-old single mother has aspirations of becoming a pharmacist or chiropractor "after I grow up."
The most difficult part of serving in Iraq was leaving her 6-year-old daughter, Abigail.
"I can't hold her. I can't kiss her goodnight. I am missing out on her whole first year of school," she said.
Still, Magnuson has no regrets.
"We're doing a good job here. It is nerve-racking. We are doing a good thing here for the people and other Soldiers ¡ª keeping the roads safe. This makes me feel like I am an active part of history."
Like Fisher, Magnuson has seen her share of both combat and non-combat injuries. In one of the first C Company missions ever to see combat, Spc. Kane Melling suffered minor shrapnel wounds to his face and head after a car bomb exploded right next to the Humvee in which he was the turret gunner. Magnuson said Melling was spared serious injury because of his Kevlar helmet and ballistic glasses he was wearing at the time.
Magnuson described the scene, "Very intense. Our guys were shooting into the trees. I was working under fire. We moved him (Melling) to the back of a 5-ton truck and treated him there while shooting was still going on. You can't really think about what is going on around you. You just have to do it."
On another occasion Magnuson treated an Iraqi civilian who was stabbed by another Iraqi that had recently been released from prison for committing murder. The Soldiers from third platoon were able to break up the fight and arrest the perpetrator while Magnuson went to work. The victim didn't know it, but he was getting some of the best emergency medical care available anywhere in the country. There is no doubt it was awkward for him to be treated by a female in a land that views women as inferior. He didn't complain, however, as she stopped the bleeding and bandaged the stab wound. Had Magnuson's IED combat patrol not been driving by and seen the fight in progress, he probably would have died. When tragedy strikes, out of nowhere, an angel descends. Another life is saved.
There was one life, however, that Magnuson could not save. Monday, May 3, 2004, is a day that she will never forget. C Company lost one of their most beloved Soldiers, Spc. James Holmes of East Grand Forks. This time Magnuson was assigned to third platoon for the IED patrol. On this fateful day the bomb hunters became the hunted as a cowardly enemy insurgent scored a direct hit on the rear Humvee, exposing a weakness in the armor that had, until then, gone unnoticed. Holmes was the driver and took a direct hit. The IED was placed in the median of the four-lane divided highway and was remotely detonated. The triggerman was never seen.
Holmes had served in the Marine Corps and then joined the North Dakota Army National Guard when he moved from Arizona to Grand Forks to attend the University of North Dakota. When the 141st Battalion was activated for duty in Iraq, Holmes volunteered to go along to help fill a vacancy. Because he was a volunteer and didn't have to be in Iraq, it makes his death even that much more tragic.
"It makes me feel that he sacrificed his life for all of us," Magnuson said.
His name was Spc. James Holmes. But to those who knew him, he was affectionately called "Tugboat" because he was a large man who would pull his load and then some. He was a teddy bear kind of guy, but somehow the nickname "Tugboat" was more fitting. C Company Soldiers have since painted "Tugboat" on the side of the driver's door of the Humvee he was driving the day he was killed.
Holmes didn't say much after he was hit except, "I just can't breath." Already suffering from his fatal wounds he continued to drive the Humvee to safety. After about five minutes Holmes felt he had gone far enough to protect the other Soldiers of third platoon and stopped his vehicle. Knowing that Magnuson would have a difficult time removing his large frame from the vehicle in order to be treated, Holmes climbed out and lay down on the road.
Magnuson started removing his clothing to assess his injuries. She could see it was more serious than just getting the wind knocked out of him as he had told her. "He told me what he wanted. He didn't want morphine for the pain. He didn't want oxygen. He tried helping by holding the bandages in place."
Holmes probably knew how seriously injured he was. He had served on an ambulance squad back in Arizona and had treated traumatic injuries himself. He helped talk Magnuson through it and keep her calm. He seemed more concerned for her than himself.
Despite Magnuson's and Holmes' heroic efforts and extraordinary teamwork, he would die five days later in a hospital in Germany with his parents at his bedside.
Magnuson remembers, "After that I wanted to go out even more. If something else happened I wanted to do it right this time. If there was another accident, I wanted to do everything right. I took it personally that I had failed him in some way."
Of course, she had not failed him. Magnuson had done everything right. His life could not be saved. But at least she bought him an extra few days so that his parents could see him one last time. Again, an Angel descended.
Magnuson's experiences in Iraq have given her a new outlook on life.
"I have learned not to take anything for granted. Nothing."
She plans to vacation more and "not sweat the small stuff." She hopes to get married and have three more children, backpack across Europe, scuba dive and just take every advantage that life has to offer.
Angel 3: Sgt. Kristen Pagel
Kristen Pagel lives in Fargo with her husband, Dave, stepson Ryan, and her 82-year-old grandmother, who is a veteran of World War II. Pagel's grandmother served as a nurse who, among other duties, helped treat and clean up the concentration camps at the end of the war. She writes to Pagel twice a week because, as Pagel says, "She understands how important mail call is."
Pagel serves as the senior medic for C Company. In addition to going out on combat patrols with the Trailblazers, she completes the scheduling for the medics, tracks Soldiers' immunizations, illness and injuries, and monitors the mental health of all of the Soldiers in the unit.
"We (the medics) are the first line for combat stress or for troops to come talk to when they have problems back home." She and her fellow Charlie's Angels can then make a determination if the soldier needs to be referred to a therapist or psychiatrist in the mental health unit of the Troop Medical Clinic.
But Pagel has her own way of helping relieve the stress of living in a war zone.
"I make supper, bake cupcakes and little things like that. Giving (the Soldiers) candy, or rubbing them on the head, or giving them a hug seems to make a bigger difference than I would have thought. For the most part, the guys are all a bunch of big teddy bears that need attention and love and affection."
For Pagel the hardest thing about being a medic is "the people you spend your days with are also the people you will have to treat."
The Soldiers would not have it any other way. For them, they know they are going to receive quality medical treatment from people who know them and truly care about them rather than a medic who is a stranger that they may never have met.
However, one of Pagel's most memorable moments treating an injury came when she had to treat the enemy. The Trailblazers had stopped along the road to check out a suspected IED when the insurgent ran up to the convoy of vehicles and began throwing grenades. Almost instantly, one of the second platoon gunners trained his weapon on the man and shot him twice; once in the leg and once in the arm. The gunner saved the lives of several Soldiers that day as three more hand grenades were found hidden on the insurgent while he was being bandaged.
Pagel set aside her emotions and began the medical intervention that would save the life of the very man who had just tried to kill her and her fellow troops. Although he had an arm and a leg amputated as a result of his wounds, he survived. Referring to the way he attacked the convoy, and the fact that he had more grenades hidden on him, Pagel said, "I don't think he had any intentions of living."
The medical care available to Iraqis is sometimes lacking. On another occasion, Pagel's combat patrol came across a five-vehicle collision involving a child and one trapped occupant. Extrication equipment is rarely available in Iraq. Several civilians began trying to manually pull the car door off and then to pull the trapped man out of the car, ultimately causing him more pain and injury.
Once he was freed from the vehicle, Pagel attempted to start an I.V., but an Iraqi doctor arrived on the scene and refused to allow it. Pagel described the scene this way: "He (the doctor) was very rough with him when he helped me bandage his leg. He picked him up by the arms and legs and threw him into a sedan despite an obvious injury to one of his legs."
Pagel is very protective of the medics that work for her.
"I mostly worry about the long-term effects this experience will have on the rest of the people I serve with. I guess I feel like I need to protect them as much as possible so they can go back and have a happy and fulfilling life without any emotional scars ¡ images haunting them the rest of their lives."
Pagel looks forward to returning home and her job as the finance manager for Luther Family Ford in Fargo. She hopes to be a general manager of a car dealership someday. She also looks forward to the day when the "children of Iraq will have a better life than their parents had."
After spending more than eight months in the heat of Iraq one might think she would welcome the milder temperatures of North Dakota. However, when she retires she wants to live someplace in the southern United States "where the temperatures are warmer."
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sgt. Keith O'Donnell lived thanks to the heroics of his brothers in arms like Quinlen, Marschner and Wanner, and his Angel ¨C Sgt. Jessica Fisher. Today he is undergoing extensive surgeries and rehabilitation and is doing well. Everyone in first platoon hopes to one day hear his beautiful voice again.
Hard to type through tears....
Very brave women taking care of very brave men.
Excellent article.
Dirge of Dead Sisters
1902
For the Nurses Who Died in the South African War
Who recalls the twilight and the ranged tents in order
(Violet peaks uplifted through the crystal evening air?)
And the clink of iron teacups and the piteous, noble laughter,
And the faces of the Sisters with the dust upon their hair?
(Now and not hereafter, while the breath is in our nostrils,
Now and not hereafter, ere the meaner years go by -
Let us now remember many honourable women,
Such as bade us turn again when we were like to die.)
Who recalls the morning and the thunder through the foothills,
(Tufts of fleecy shrapnel strung along the empty plains?)
And the sun-scarred Red-Cross coaches creeping guarded to the culvert,
And the faces of the Sisters looking gravely from the trains?
(When the days were torment and the nights were clouded terror,
When the Powers of Darkness had dominion on our soul -
When we fled consuming through the Seven Hells of Fever,
These put out their hands to us and healed and made us whole.)
Who recalls the midnight by the bridge's wrecked abutment,
(Autumn rain that rattled like a Maxim on the tin?)
And the lightning-dazzled levels and the streaming, straining wagons,
And the faces of the Sisters as they bore the wounded in?
(Till the pain was merciful and stunned us into silence -
When each nerve cried out on God that made the misused clay;
When the Body triumphed and the last poor shame departed -
These abode our agonies and wiped the sweat away.)
Who recalls the noontide and the funerals through the market,
(Blanket-hidden bodies, flagless, followed by the flies?)
And the footsore firing-party, and the dust and stench and staleness,
And the faces of the Sisters and the glory in their eyes?
(Bold behind the battle, in the open camp all-hallowed,
Patient, wise, and mirthful in the ringed and reeking town,
These endured unresting till they rested from their labours -
Little wasted bodies, ah, so light to lower down!)
Yet their graves are scattered and their names are clean forgotten,
Earth shall not remember, but the Waiting Angel knows
Them who died at Uitvlugt when the plague was on the city -
Her that fell at Simon's Town' in service on our foes.
--Rudyard Kipling
In this country, Clara Barton did the same for the Civil War battlefields, and from her efforts came the American Red Cross.
Great story..many thanks for posting..hat pisses me of so much is all the crap and garbage that's in the NY Times every day...nothing good like this..
It's the little things that count.
Going to Wal-Mart. Going to get milk. Going to get stamps at the post office.
Nobody asking for your ID to check if you are 'authorized to be there" When I was in Nam we had Medics who were so strongly against killing they refused to wear or carry a weapon but they were so strongly patriotic they refused to be kept from the front lines.
I will never forget those men, never!
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