Battle Field Angels (34 page)

Hundreds of casualties suffered in the USS
Forrestal
flight deck fire required nonmedical personnel to assist corpsmen and medical officers as others fought to save the ship.
(U.S. Navy)

Thousands of soldiers wounded in Vietnam owed their lives to courageous helicopter pilots and medical personnel who routinely flew into enemy territory and firefights to evacuate the seriously injured.
(U.S. Army)

Concealed IEDs utilizing artillery shells in Iraq and Afghanistan were detonated by remote control directly underneath patrol vehicles and produced multiple penetration and blast injuries.
(USMC)

Medic Monica Brown was in violation of Pentagon policy prohibiting women in combat when she was ordered to accompany a patrol mission in Afghanistan.
(U.S. Army)

Survivability improved markedly in Iraq where sixteen soldiers were wounded for every soldier killed. Many, including corpsman Nathaniel Leoncio, lost a limb or suffered brain injuries from IEDs. Disability became the medical signature of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.
(USMC)

Providing medical care to civilians caught in war has always been part of the medic’s mission.
(USMC)

The universal truth among corpsmen: “You can lay there under fire and die, or you can get up and go. I decided the men needed me out there.” —
Vietnam corpsman Robert Ingram, Medal of Honor recipient. (USMC)

As the Marines waited for a boom wrecker to arrive and lift the destroyed Humvee off Seeley, Bellmont, and Watson sat on a side bench, anxious to get Leoncio and Hendricks to the hospital, which was less than ten miles away. Bellmont gestured toward Leoncio’s destroyed leg. Watson looked, closed his eyes briefly, and nodded at Bellmont. Leoncio didn’t know his leg lay next to him. Diesel fuel soaked his uniform, and his breathing became short and choppy.

“Corpsman up!” yelled Watson as he looked down at the two wounded Marines.

“What are you calling a corpsman for?” asked Leoncio. “You’ve got one right here.”
⁹⁸

When Leoncio saw that Hendricks’s thigh wound required a field dressing, the corpsman tried to roll over so Bellmont could reach his back pocket filled with medical supplies. Stunned, Watson and Bellmont steadied Leoncio, telling him to stay put as they pulled a bandage out for Hendricks. On the edge of consciousness, Leoncio called out treatment instructions. First, check Hendricks’s breathing. Second, treat him for shock. Then Leoncio told Bellmont and Watson how to treat his own massive wounds. Finally, he closed his eyes and lay still. Periodically, he asked about Hendricks’s condition as the Humvee rushed toward the military hospital. During the ride, Leoncio asked Bellmont for a sip of water and to hold his hand.

“I don’t want to go into shock,” said the corpsman. “How bad’s my leg, sir? How bad’s my leg? How much blood have I lost?” There was no panic in his questions. He remained cool and clinical, a corpsman assessing the patient’s condition.

“You’ve lost some blood, Doc, but you’re going to be okay. We’re almost to Ramadi Med,” said Watson, as the medevac Humvee sped along one of the most heavily mined roads in western Iraq. Leoncio smiled when Bellmont told the other wounded Marine that he knew Leoncio had to be a corpsman by the way he stayed so focused on others, despite his injuries.

When they reached the military hospital, at least ten U.S. Army medical personnel in their standard gray and green digital camouflage appeared at the back end of the Humvee.

“Amputated left leg,” said one as Leoncio looked up at him.

“No, it’s the other one,” he said. Bellmont shook his head in amazement at the corpsman whose only priority while lying on the battlefield had been to take care of his Marines. Leoncio went straight into surgery. Watson and Bellmont would not see Doc Leo for another six months.

While Leoncio was being wheeled into the operating room, a boom wrecker gently lifted the shattered Humvee off Shawn Seeley. His heart barely fluttered; his breathing was shallow and strained. He had suffered a broken pelvis, two broken legs, a broken arm, a torn rotator cuff, a mangled right hand, and bruised lungs and spleen. His face had been sandblasted by the explosion. Looking down at Seeley, few Marines thought he would survive. His body had been torn open in several places. His brain and organs had been battered.

The prevalence of IEDs produced an unprecedented incidence of traumatic brain injury, the signature casualty in Iraq. When IEDs detonated underneath soldiers, the shock waves rocketed up through their skulls. The “secondary wind” hit a split-second later as air rushed to fill the void created by each shock wave. The damage from the double fisted wave pounding their brains could be devastating. Many who survived the traumatic amputations and shrapnel injuries faced a wide array of TBI symptoms: moodiness, anxiety, depression, impulsiveness, and antisocial behavior. Others suffered from headaches and hypersensitivity to sound and light. Cognitive abilities to make decisions, pay attention, and react to others were adversely affected as well.

From the outset of combat in Iraq, military hospitals saw extraordinary numbers of wounded soldiers suffering from TBI. After three years of war, nearly two thousand soldiers had been diagnosed with TBI. For the first time in military history, the medical corps treated more brain injuries than chest and abdomen wounds. Vastly improved body armor protected soldiers against penetrating injuries. In Vietnam, about 12 percent of all injuries had involved the brain, and more than 70 percent of those were fatal. In Iraq, about 20 percent of soldiers treated in a military hospital in the first four years of combat suffered from TBI, often complicated by other injuries.

Brad Watson sat on a cot in the military hospital. He had been treated for minor wounds: a few lacerations, a right hand burn probably from hot motor oil, and some bruises. Nothing serious. He kept thinking about Leoncio in surgery:

Watson pulled out his write-in-the-rain notebook from a cargo pocket and retrieved a pen from his flak jacket. He wrote “For heroism …” It would be up to others to decide whether Leoncio deserved a medal for bravery.

Meanwhile, the remaining Marines reassembled in their Humvees and continued their house-to-house search mission. They returned to base that night, fourteen hours after the mission had begun.