thedrifter
10-06-07, 06:58 AM
Whenever coalition forces drive into a village children come running, screaming and waving. “Mista, mista, you give me futbol,” or “Mista, please, chocolate, give me,” are the most common phrases used by Iraqi children. As soon as the trucks stop they are engulfed by a frenzy of children, resembling an ice cream truck on a hot summer day. But recently, Marines brought more than soccer balls and candy to this small farming community; they brought home a child wounded by war.
He is thirteen and shy. His black hair is short and his wide eyes are harmless. He wore a blue medical blouse, slippers and a pair of dog tags from 2nd Marine Division. His timid nature seemed to invoke a sense of sadness, especially for his mother who had not seen him in more than a week. His name is Abdul Ahmad and he is a shepherd.
He is from a rural town less than five miles from Multi National Force – West’s headquarters base at Camp Fallujah. It is an area of recent troubles. Sporadic gun fire and weapon caches have caused coalition forces to remain active in this area. While men and women go about their daily lives of herding cattle and sheep, gathering fire wood and plowing fields, terrorists sneak into their midst and disrupt everything that is peaceful.
While attending to his family’s sheep last month, a ricocheted bullet found its way into Ahmad’s stomach. There was no warning or cause and Ahmad barely made it home. His father rushed him to the city’s hospital, Fallujah General, where Iraqi doctors did the best they could for several days.
As the boy’s thin frame lay on the hospital bed in pain, infection was being treated by antibiotics. He was in stable condition and doctors were able to properly clean the wound, but could not remove the bullet, which had entered through his left abdomen, hit his right hip and lodged itself underneath his ribcage. They performed a colonoscopy, bringing his colon to the skin’s surface and placed a bag over it to collect stool. Despite doing all they could, Iraqi doctors did not have access to computed axial tomography imagery, or CAT scan, making it impossible to locate the bullet and remove it.
Things never reached dire status, but the town’s sheik, Hamid Ferris Turki, knew the best thing for his nephew was to seek U.S. help.
While on a normal patrol through the dusty roads of Al Fayil, Task Force Guardian was approached by Turki. He told the Marines there was a local boy who had been shot a few days earlier and needed American doctors. But finding a wounded boy in Anbar is more difficult than it may seem. Even with help of local doctors and area sheiks, it still took the Marines five days to find Ahmad.
Once he was found in Fallujah’s hospital, Marine leaders decided it was worth the risk to travel into the city and retrieve the wounded shepherd boy. They would use the safest vehicle available to them, the Mine Resistant Ambush Protected vehicle, and a convoy of gun trucks to escort Ahmad back to the coalition’s base hospital, Fallujah Surgical. Time was ticking and those involved were focused on helping the child none of them knew. Perhaps their motivation was just part of their job, or maybe they had children, nieces or nephews back in the states. Maybe it is just what Americans do, help those in need. Regardless, Ahmad’s future took a turn for the better as soon as he was loaded into the military vehicle, one he had seen from the pastures of his village only days earlier.
“He didn’t seem scared, just tired and in pain,” said Capt. Michael Murray, the civil affairs officer for Headquarters Battalion, Muti National Force – West, who went to pick up Ahmad and his father, Abu Hammed. “He was very thin and wasn’t moving much. His father was very happy to see us.”
Those who witnessed Abu Hammed at Fallujah Surgical said he was overcome with the attention his youngest son was receiving. By the time the battalion commander got there 15 minutes later, Ahmad was already on the X-ray table. The surgeons, still unable to decipher the bullet’s exact location, decided he needed a CAT scan.
The commander, Col. Vincent Stewart, was committed to making it happen, and asked “Where is the best care for his needs?”
The doctors agreed the place Ahmad needed to go was Al Asad, a base which housed more Marines than any other in Anbar. It would take less than an hour to get there by helicopter, but would need the approval from the commanding general of MNF-West, Maj. Gen. W.E. Gaskin.
According to Stewart, getting the general to approve such a request was not a problem.
Doctors at Al Asad found the small bullet and decided it was not causing harm to the boy or his future. They reattached his colon and held him for two days to observe his progress.
Ahmad was taken home Oct. 1. The entire village, which consisted mostly of children Ahmad’s age and relatives, greeted his return. Marines stood amongst the crowd as each relative and friend came by to hug and welcome Ahmad home, who remained quiet, only smiling. Sheik Turki, the brother of Ahmad’s father, waited inside Ahmad’s home. The two embraced and the sheik kissed both sides of his young nephew’s face. He turned to Maj. Jamie Farrelly, the operations officer for Headquarters Battalion, and thanked him.
“We thank the Marines, they were very kind and helpful,” said Turki.
Farrelly shared Ahmad’s story with the growing crowd gathering inside the home. He talked about Ahmad’s bravery and his excitement when flying inside a U.S. Army Blackhawk helicopter.
Ahmad, too tired to remain standing by his father’s side, had a seat on the floor. Ahmad’s many cousins went by his side. They asked questions and looked at his wounds and dog tags. Other children peaked through the windows trying to see what was going on. Ahmad, still reserved, hardly said anything at all.
Although Ahmad is home, he is not out of the woods. Naval corpsmen will continue to stop by and check on the status and eventually remove the colonoscopy bag, making Ahmad able to live a normal life.
Coalition forces did more than help a wounded child; they became a part of history. In Iraqi culture, stories such as this one will be passed down for generations, from grandparents to grandchildren, from Ahmad to his sons. When the dust finally settles and Ahmad’s neighborhood has returned to peace, he will have more than a scar to remember those who helped him and his community.
He is thirteen and shy. His black hair is short and his wide eyes are harmless. He wore a blue medical blouse, slippers and a pair of dog tags from 2nd Marine Division. His timid nature seemed to invoke a sense of sadness, especially for his mother who had not seen him in more than a week. His name is Abdul Ahmad and he is a shepherd.
He is from a rural town less than five miles from Multi National Force – West’s headquarters base at Camp Fallujah. It is an area of recent troubles. Sporadic gun fire and weapon caches have caused coalition forces to remain active in this area. While men and women go about their daily lives of herding cattle and sheep, gathering fire wood and plowing fields, terrorists sneak into their midst and disrupt everything that is peaceful.
While attending to his family’s sheep last month, a ricocheted bullet found its way into Ahmad’s stomach. There was no warning or cause and Ahmad barely made it home. His father rushed him to the city’s hospital, Fallujah General, where Iraqi doctors did the best they could for several days.
As the boy’s thin frame lay on the hospital bed in pain, infection was being treated by antibiotics. He was in stable condition and doctors were able to properly clean the wound, but could not remove the bullet, which had entered through his left abdomen, hit his right hip and lodged itself underneath his ribcage. They performed a colonoscopy, bringing his colon to the skin’s surface and placed a bag over it to collect stool. Despite doing all they could, Iraqi doctors did not have access to computed axial tomography imagery, or CAT scan, making it impossible to locate the bullet and remove it.
Things never reached dire status, but the town’s sheik, Hamid Ferris Turki, knew the best thing for his nephew was to seek U.S. help.
While on a normal patrol through the dusty roads of Al Fayil, Task Force Guardian was approached by Turki. He told the Marines there was a local boy who had been shot a few days earlier and needed American doctors. But finding a wounded boy in Anbar is more difficult than it may seem. Even with help of local doctors and area sheiks, it still took the Marines five days to find Ahmad.
Once he was found in Fallujah’s hospital, Marine leaders decided it was worth the risk to travel into the city and retrieve the wounded shepherd boy. They would use the safest vehicle available to them, the Mine Resistant Ambush Protected vehicle, and a convoy of gun trucks to escort Ahmad back to the coalition’s base hospital, Fallujah Surgical. Time was ticking and those involved were focused on helping the child none of them knew. Perhaps their motivation was just part of their job, or maybe they had children, nieces or nephews back in the states. Maybe it is just what Americans do, help those in need. Regardless, Ahmad’s future took a turn for the better as soon as he was loaded into the military vehicle, one he had seen from the pastures of his village only days earlier.
“He didn’t seem scared, just tired and in pain,” said Capt. Michael Murray, the civil affairs officer for Headquarters Battalion, Muti National Force – West, who went to pick up Ahmad and his father, Abu Hammed. “He was very thin and wasn’t moving much. His father was very happy to see us.”
Those who witnessed Abu Hammed at Fallujah Surgical said he was overcome with the attention his youngest son was receiving. By the time the battalion commander got there 15 minutes later, Ahmad was already on the X-ray table. The surgeons, still unable to decipher the bullet’s exact location, decided he needed a CAT scan.
The commander, Col. Vincent Stewart, was committed to making it happen, and asked “Where is the best care for his needs?”
The doctors agreed the place Ahmad needed to go was Al Asad, a base which housed more Marines than any other in Anbar. It would take less than an hour to get there by helicopter, but would need the approval from the commanding general of MNF-West, Maj. Gen. W.E. Gaskin.
According to Stewart, getting the general to approve such a request was not a problem.
Doctors at Al Asad found the small bullet and decided it was not causing harm to the boy or his future. They reattached his colon and held him for two days to observe his progress.
Ahmad was taken home Oct. 1. The entire village, which consisted mostly of children Ahmad’s age and relatives, greeted his return. Marines stood amongst the crowd as each relative and friend came by to hug and welcome Ahmad home, who remained quiet, only smiling. Sheik Turki, the brother of Ahmad’s father, waited inside Ahmad’s home. The two embraced and the sheik kissed both sides of his young nephew’s face. He turned to Maj. Jamie Farrelly, the operations officer for Headquarters Battalion, and thanked him.
“We thank the Marines, they were very kind and helpful,” said Turki.
Farrelly shared Ahmad’s story with the growing crowd gathering inside the home. He talked about Ahmad’s bravery and his excitement when flying inside a U.S. Army Blackhawk helicopter.
Ahmad, too tired to remain standing by his father’s side, had a seat on the floor. Ahmad’s many cousins went by his side. They asked questions and looked at his wounds and dog tags. Other children peaked through the windows trying to see what was going on. Ahmad, still reserved, hardly said anything at all.
Although Ahmad is home, he is not out of the woods. Naval corpsmen will continue to stop by and check on the status and eventually remove the colonoscopy bag, making Ahmad able to live a normal life.
Coalition forces did more than help a wounded child; they became a part of history. In Iraqi culture, stories such as this one will be passed down for generations, from grandparents to grandchildren, from Ahmad to his sons. When the dust finally settles and Ahmad’s neighborhood has returned to peace, he will have more than a scar to remember those who helped him and his community.