thedrifter
01-12-06, 11:12 AM
Medic proud of Iraq duty
By ROGER W. HOSKINS
BEE STAFF WRITER
FORT BLISS, Texas — Spc. Bradley Mann of Modesto will admit it wasn't just patriotism that motivated him when he joined the National Guard four years ago.
It was part necessity — "50-50 or maybe 60-40," said Mann. He was unemployed.
The National Guard, he discovered, would pay for a large percentage of his college education, and he would qualify as a nurse when he finished.
"It will take longer than the recruiter said," he noted, but he has no complaints, not even about being called to active duty almost 18 months ago and later shipped to Iraq with the rest of the Modesto-based 184th Infantry Battalion.
And while he has been through hell few 24-year-olds can imagine, he not only would do it over, Mann, an Army medic, said he would have volunteered to go to Iraq even earlier had he known he could.
Mann rode into Iraq last year in a four-litter ambulance, in what he called a box on wheels.
"I thought I was safe because they put the (anti-bomb) doors on it," said Mann, shaking his head at his naiveté. "It took us four days to make a two-day journey because the trucks we were in with kept breaking down."
His first awakening to the high cost of war came when he accompanied an early patrol.
"This Iraqi flagged us down, and his brother has just been the victim of a drive-by shooting," Mann said. "He was shot in the shoulder, but I rolled him over and he had a quarter-inch exit wound in his back. The blood was just squirting out."
Mann did what he could, but the man later died. From then on Mann took more equipment and bigger bandages in his medical bag.
The next baptism of fire was more personal and devastating. He remembered the first U.S. casualty from his unit.
"Arnold DePlantier was on roof as a lookout," said Mann, looking back to mid-June 2005. "He was up there with some other Joes (infantrymen) and he got shot in the chest by a sniper."
It was a one-in-a-million shot, he said.
"It got him just above his armor," Mann recalled. "I went right up and called for a medevac helicopter. It took a lot longer than I thought it would."
His friend died in his arms.
"I blamed myself that I could have done more, but the hospital said even if (Arnold) had been (in the emergency room) within five minutes, he still would have died."
Dispensed Motrin as 'Ranger candy'
Mann said he doesn't have nightmares about bad days over there, but, "I never stop thinking about them. But the emotion is gone."
After that experience, he again boosted the amount of equipment he carried, "to do a better job." His platoon from Delta Company rarely went on patrol without him. And like the other medics in Iraq, he carried a weapon. More than once he was shooting at targets one minute and treating a wound the next.
He also ran the daily sick call and decided whether to send soldiers to the doctor or give them "Ranger candy" — an 800-milligram Motrin.
He rarely got a day off and his trip home came "before anything happened." His two weeks at home turned into four, but it wasn't stress-free. His father had a stroke. He is now recovering.
For Mann, the payoff of his training and preparation came Sept. 9. Another comrade recalled the date as the time "when they started dropping like flies."
Mann relates the day's events:
"We were doing a normal patrol, checking an area that had a lot of IEDs (improvised explosive devices). They were doing a dismounted (on foot) search. John Fuller was up front.
"He saw something and went two more steps toward it, and that's when the bomb went off.
"John took shrapnel to the groin area and it cut the femoral artery," Mann said, pointing to an area high inside his right leg. "John fired at the triggerman and even walked back to the trucks.
"I ran from the back of the trucks and Sergeant (Hector) Alvarado called to me. 'Hey, Doc, he's bleeding real bad. Give me a bandage.' I grabbed the biggest one I could find, an abdominal bandage, and slapped it on and told his buddies to apply pressure. Three guys held it down while I secured it."
The truck raced to a landing zone to meet an emergency helicopter. The treatment and transfer took just 15 minutes.
Will miss his Guardsmen comrades
Fuller lived and the hospital physicians marveled.
"They told my company commander that most guys wounded that bad don't make it, and (those severely wounded like that) always come in in much worse shape."
Not only was Mann ecstatic about saving Fuller, the guys gave him a new nickname he cherished, "Super Doc."
Now that he's out of Iraq, there are mixed emotions.
"Sure I miss my family and friends, and I'll take a break," said Mann. "But I love my guys. I'm going to miss them."
And Mann is not going back to civilian life. After a leave, he will return to Fort Bliss for another year of active duty.
"I'm going to train medics."
Bee staff writer Roger Hoskins can be reached at 578-2311 or rhoskins@modbee.com.
Posted on 01/12/06 00:00:00
Ellie
By ROGER W. HOSKINS
BEE STAFF WRITER
FORT BLISS, Texas — Spc. Bradley Mann of Modesto will admit it wasn't just patriotism that motivated him when he joined the National Guard four years ago.
It was part necessity — "50-50 or maybe 60-40," said Mann. He was unemployed.
The National Guard, he discovered, would pay for a large percentage of his college education, and he would qualify as a nurse when he finished.
"It will take longer than the recruiter said," he noted, but he has no complaints, not even about being called to active duty almost 18 months ago and later shipped to Iraq with the rest of the Modesto-based 184th Infantry Battalion.
And while he has been through hell few 24-year-olds can imagine, he not only would do it over, Mann, an Army medic, said he would have volunteered to go to Iraq even earlier had he known he could.
Mann rode into Iraq last year in a four-litter ambulance, in what he called a box on wheels.
"I thought I was safe because they put the (anti-bomb) doors on it," said Mann, shaking his head at his naiveté. "It took us four days to make a two-day journey because the trucks we were in with kept breaking down."
His first awakening to the high cost of war came when he accompanied an early patrol.
"This Iraqi flagged us down, and his brother has just been the victim of a drive-by shooting," Mann said. "He was shot in the shoulder, but I rolled him over and he had a quarter-inch exit wound in his back. The blood was just squirting out."
Mann did what he could, but the man later died. From then on Mann took more equipment and bigger bandages in his medical bag.
The next baptism of fire was more personal and devastating. He remembered the first U.S. casualty from his unit.
"Arnold DePlantier was on roof as a lookout," said Mann, looking back to mid-June 2005. "He was up there with some other Joes (infantrymen) and he got shot in the chest by a sniper."
It was a one-in-a-million shot, he said.
"It got him just above his armor," Mann recalled. "I went right up and called for a medevac helicopter. It took a lot longer than I thought it would."
His friend died in his arms.
"I blamed myself that I could have done more, but the hospital said even if (Arnold) had been (in the emergency room) within five minutes, he still would have died."
Dispensed Motrin as 'Ranger candy'
Mann said he doesn't have nightmares about bad days over there, but, "I never stop thinking about them. But the emotion is gone."
After that experience, he again boosted the amount of equipment he carried, "to do a better job." His platoon from Delta Company rarely went on patrol without him. And like the other medics in Iraq, he carried a weapon. More than once he was shooting at targets one minute and treating a wound the next.
He also ran the daily sick call and decided whether to send soldiers to the doctor or give them "Ranger candy" — an 800-milligram Motrin.
He rarely got a day off and his trip home came "before anything happened." His two weeks at home turned into four, but it wasn't stress-free. His father had a stroke. He is now recovering.
For Mann, the payoff of his training and preparation came Sept. 9. Another comrade recalled the date as the time "when they started dropping like flies."
Mann relates the day's events:
"We were doing a normal patrol, checking an area that had a lot of IEDs (improvised explosive devices). They were doing a dismounted (on foot) search. John Fuller was up front.
"He saw something and went two more steps toward it, and that's when the bomb went off.
"John took shrapnel to the groin area and it cut the femoral artery," Mann said, pointing to an area high inside his right leg. "John fired at the triggerman and even walked back to the trucks.
"I ran from the back of the trucks and Sergeant (Hector) Alvarado called to me. 'Hey, Doc, he's bleeding real bad. Give me a bandage.' I grabbed the biggest one I could find, an abdominal bandage, and slapped it on and told his buddies to apply pressure. Three guys held it down while I secured it."
The truck raced to a landing zone to meet an emergency helicopter. The treatment and transfer took just 15 minutes.
Will miss his Guardsmen comrades
Fuller lived and the hospital physicians marveled.
"They told my company commander that most guys wounded that bad don't make it, and (those severely wounded like that) always come in in much worse shape."
Not only was Mann ecstatic about saving Fuller, the guys gave him a new nickname he cherished, "Super Doc."
Now that he's out of Iraq, there are mixed emotions.
"Sure I miss my family and friends, and I'll take a break," said Mann. "But I love my guys. I'm going to miss them."
And Mann is not going back to civilian life. After a leave, he will return to Fort Bliss for another year of active duty.
"I'm going to train medics."
Bee staff writer Roger Hoskins can be reached at 578-2311 or rhoskins@modbee.com.
Posted on 01/12/06 00:00:00
Ellie