thedrifter
09-15-05, 06:49 AM
Injured Idaho troops begin long journey to recovery
The Idaho Statesman
'I don't want anybody's sympathy,' says Mitch Ehlke
Nearly 1,900 military personnel have died in Iraq since the war started in March 2003. With each death, the Department of Defense issues a brief press release. The faces of fallen troops grace the front pages of hometown newspapers. They are usually buried with full military honors.
But for every soldier, Marine, airman or sailor who dies in Iraq, seven more are injured. Department of Defense weekly statistics show that 14,362 troops have been injured in the last two and a half years.
Nearly half of those were injured badly enough to be removed from duty for at least 72 hours. But the military is tight-lipped with other details about its wounded. The military doesn't release the names of the injured, citing medical privacy and security concerns. And it won't say how many members of a unit have been injured.
"I'm not authorized to release that information. That's telling the enemy too much," said Gordon Petrie, chief information officer for the Idaho National Guard's 116th Brigade Combat Team, which has 4,300 soldiers — and about 1,800 Idahoans — in northern Iraq.
Immediate families and friends know the fate of wounded soldiers and Marines, but the information blackout often keeps news of wounded troops invisible to the public.
Wounded servicemen go from battlefield operations to medical operations, from fighting insurgents to fighting infections. Some will lose limbs, or be confined to wheelchairs. Some will carry battle scars for life.
When they come home, they face curious stares and awkward moments because people don't know how to react to their injuries.
"I don't want anybody's sympathy. I just want them to understand," said Lance Cpl. Mitch Ehlke of Star, who lost a foot in May after a bomb exploded beneath his tank while serving in western Iraq.
Here are the stories of three men injured by the roadside bombs that are a major cause of injuries in Iraq.
Lance Cpl. Mitch Ehlke
When Ehlke describes his injuries, he sounds more like a snowboarder who broke his leg catching big air than a soldier who lost a foot to an Iraqi insurgent's bomb. There's a mixture of pride, awe and gallows humor as he shows the plastic, steel and rubber prosthesis attached to the stump below his knee.
"Yeah, I have fun with it," he said. "I've got a weird sense of humor about it. I will never twist my ankle or stub my toe again."
Ehlke, a 21-year-old who joined the Marines after graduating from Eagle High School in 2002, was among 90 Boise-based Marine Corps Reservists who deployed to Iraq last winter with the 1st Tank Battalion, 1st Marine Division.
In May, he had most of his foot blown off after an improvised explosive device ripped through the tank he was riding in near the Syrian border west of Baghdad.
Ehlke and three other Marines were taking part in "Operation Matador," an intense battle to remove insurgents from villages near the Syrian border. They had finished their mission and were turning the tank around to return to base when the bomb exploded.
"That's the frustrating part," Ehlke said. "We had done our job, and we were on our way back to base when we got hit."
The blast knocked him unconscious and when he woke up, "it was just a terrible scene," he said. "The top of my foot and my toes were there, but everything else was just gone."
The tank driver, Lance Cpl. Fernando Lazalde of Driggs, escaped with minor injuries.
But the explosion also seriously injured Lance Cpl. Joe Lowe and Staff Sgt. Chad Brumpton, both of Boise. Brumpton returned home Wednesday night. Lowe is at a Seattle hospital being treated for spinal injuries. He is still paralyzed from the chest down, said his brother, Lance Cpl. James Lowe, on Wednesday. Joe Lowe may return to Boise in October, his brother said.
Ehlke flagged down a passing helicopter. When it landed, he hopped toward it so he could tell the crew his fellow wounded Marines were still in the tank.
"I had so many things running through my head, my instincts took over," he said. "I was more worried about failing my friends than dying."
The helicopter was a gunship, not a med-evac helicopter. It took Ehlke and Brumpton and radioed for another helicopter for Lowe. All three were flown to Balad, Iraq, for treatment before being transferred to the Army-run Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Germany.
A few days later, doctors there told Ehlke he would probably lose his arm and his foot. When he arrived at Bethesda Naval Hospital in Maryland, surgeons saved his arm with four operations to repair the nerve and muscle damage; they attached a plate to hold the bone together.
But odds of saving his foot were slim. Ehlke told his doctors to amputate his leg midway down the shin to accommodate a prosthetic foot and ankle. He preferred that to up to two years of rehabilitation with only a slight chance of ever walking again on the injured leg.
"It was kind of an easy decision because (without amputating) I would never be able to run again and only have a 20 percent chance of walking with a cane," he said. "I've got 60-some years of my life left. I had to make the best long-term decision and move on with it."
Ehlke had to wait for his arm to heal before he could start learning to walk on his prosthetic leg.
Doctors told him it would take three to six months to learn to walk again.
Seven weeks after the amputation, he was back on his feet.
"My doctors and my physical therapist were just blown away," he said. "I had the motivation to get up and go again, and I wasn't going to hold back.
"I just can't relate how awesome it was to be walking," he said. "It was just a great feeling."
With the prosthesis, he will be able to do nearly everything he could do before, including running, hiking and swimming.
Ehlke's mother, Debbie, said the experience changed him.
"He appreciates everything, every little thing. He appreciates people, and I think he realizes there's a greater purpose out there," she said. "We're all very thankful and blessed that he's home."
Ehlke accepts the challenges of returning to a normal life with his new leg and tells of his accomplishments with enthusiasm. He walks without a limp, and says he may be able to actually run faster with the custom-made, carbon-fiber prosthesis he'll get while continuing his rehabilitation at Walter Reed Medical Center in Washington, D.C.
continued....
The Idaho Statesman
'I don't want anybody's sympathy,' says Mitch Ehlke
Nearly 1,900 military personnel have died in Iraq since the war started in March 2003. With each death, the Department of Defense issues a brief press release. The faces of fallen troops grace the front pages of hometown newspapers. They are usually buried with full military honors.
But for every soldier, Marine, airman or sailor who dies in Iraq, seven more are injured. Department of Defense weekly statistics show that 14,362 troops have been injured in the last two and a half years.
Nearly half of those were injured badly enough to be removed from duty for at least 72 hours. But the military is tight-lipped with other details about its wounded. The military doesn't release the names of the injured, citing medical privacy and security concerns. And it won't say how many members of a unit have been injured.
"I'm not authorized to release that information. That's telling the enemy too much," said Gordon Petrie, chief information officer for the Idaho National Guard's 116th Brigade Combat Team, which has 4,300 soldiers — and about 1,800 Idahoans — in northern Iraq.
Immediate families and friends know the fate of wounded soldiers and Marines, but the information blackout often keeps news of wounded troops invisible to the public.
Wounded servicemen go from battlefield operations to medical operations, from fighting insurgents to fighting infections. Some will lose limbs, or be confined to wheelchairs. Some will carry battle scars for life.
When they come home, they face curious stares and awkward moments because people don't know how to react to their injuries.
"I don't want anybody's sympathy. I just want them to understand," said Lance Cpl. Mitch Ehlke of Star, who lost a foot in May after a bomb exploded beneath his tank while serving in western Iraq.
Here are the stories of three men injured by the roadside bombs that are a major cause of injuries in Iraq.
Lance Cpl. Mitch Ehlke
When Ehlke describes his injuries, he sounds more like a snowboarder who broke his leg catching big air than a soldier who lost a foot to an Iraqi insurgent's bomb. There's a mixture of pride, awe and gallows humor as he shows the plastic, steel and rubber prosthesis attached to the stump below his knee.
"Yeah, I have fun with it," he said. "I've got a weird sense of humor about it. I will never twist my ankle or stub my toe again."
Ehlke, a 21-year-old who joined the Marines after graduating from Eagle High School in 2002, was among 90 Boise-based Marine Corps Reservists who deployed to Iraq last winter with the 1st Tank Battalion, 1st Marine Division.
In May, he had most of his foot blown off after an improvised explosive device ripped through the tank he was riding in near the Syrian border west of Baghdad.
Ehlke and three other Marines were taking part in "Operation Matador," an intense battle to remove insurgents from villages near the Syrian border. They had finished their mission and were turning the tank around to return to base when the bomb exploded.
"That's the frustrating part," Ehlke said. "We had done our job, and we were on our way back to base when we got hit."
The blast knocked him unconscious and when he woke up, "it was just a terrible scene," he said. "The top of my foot and my toes were there, but everything else was just gone."
The tank driver, Lance Cpl. Fernando Lazalde of Driggs, escaped with minor injuries.
But the explosion also seriously injured Lance Cpl. Joe Lowe and Staff Sgt. Chad Brumpton, both of Boise. Brumpton returned home Wednesday night. Lowe is at a Seattle hospital being treated for spinal injuries. He is still paralyzed from the chest down, said his brother, Lance Cpl. James Lowe, on Wednesday. Joe Lowe may return to Boise in October, his brother said.
Ehlke flagged down a passing helicopter. When it landed, he hopped toward it so he could tell the crew his fellow wounded Marines were still in the tank.
"I had so many things running through my head, my instincts took over," he said. "I was more worried about failing my friends than dying."
The helicopter was a gunship, not a med-evac helicopter. It took Ehlke and Brumpton and radioed for another helicopter for Lowe. All three were flown to Balad, Iraq, for treatment before being transferred to the Army-run Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Germany.
A few days later, doctors there told Ehlke he would probably lose his arm and his foot. When he arrived at Bethesda Naval Hospital in Maryland, surgeons saved his arm with four operations to repair the nerve and muscle damage; they attached a plate to hold the bone together.
But odds of saving his foot were slim. Ehlke told his doctors to amputate his leg midway down the shin to accommodate a prosthetic foot and ankle. He preferred that to up to two years of rehabilitation with only a slight chance of ever walking again on the injured leg.
"It was kind of an easy decision because (without amputating) I would never be able to run again and only have a 20 percent chance of walking with a cane," he said. "I've got 60-some years of my life left. I had to make the best long-term decision and move on with it."
Ehlke had to wait for his arm to heal before he could start learning to walk on his prosthetic leg.
Doctors told him it would take three to six months to learn to walk again.
Seven weeks after the amputation, he was back on his feet.
"My doctors and my physical therapist were just blown away," he said. "I had the motivation to get up and go again, and I wasn't going to hold back.
"I just can't relate how awesome it was to be walking," he said. "It was just a great feeling."
With the prosthesis, he will be able to do nearly everything he could do before, including running, hiking and swimming.
Ehlke's mother, Debbie, said the experience changed him.
"He appreciates everything, every little thing. He appreciates people, and I think he realizes there's a greater purpose out there," she said. "We're all very thankful and blessed that he's home."
Ehlke accepts the challenges of returning to a normal life with his new leg and tells of his accomplishments with enthusiasm. He walks without a limp, and says he may be able to actually run faster with the custom-made, carbon-fiber prosthesis he'll get while continuing his rehabilitation at Walter Reed Medical Center in Washington, D.C.
continued....