Tragedy at FOB Marez

The news from Mosul today is heartbreaking and families all over the United States with a beloved son or daughter, husband or wife at FOB Marez, are holding their breath, waiting for a car in the driveway, a knock at the door, a greeting that begins "We regret to inform you...", words that will forever alter their family structure. It's a worry that family members of deployed troops always have running in the back of their minds - always.

Chaplain Lewis who ministers to the troops at FOB Marez shared his experience at the scene:

The day began early as I didn't sleep very well last night. Once I was awake I decided not to just lay there and stare at the darkness so I got up, got dressed, shaved and headed into the TOC, the heart of what goes on. In the TOC (Tactical Operations Center) they monitor several different radio nets to keep abreast of what is happing in the area. It's the place to be if you want up to the minute information. When I arrived it was fairly calm. I made small talk with the guys there and sipped that first cup of morning coffee. The day was clear and there was very little going on, or so it seemed. A very short while later we received the initial reports. In this area there are several "camps" or "posts" that house the various combat and support units that do the day to day fighting and working around here. The first report said that a mortar had just hit one of the nearby chow halls during the middle of lunch (I'm on GMT so my morning is actually the middle of the day). It's called a MASCAL or Mass Casualty event and it's where the rubber meets the road in military ministry. They said there were approximately 10 casualties. That was the extent of it so I kind of filed it away in the back of my mind and continued to sip my coffee. The next report wasn't so good. 10 dead and approximately 50 wounded. They were being transported to the Combat Surgical Hospital down the street. The Chaplain at the CSH is a good guy and I knew he'd be in need of help so I woke my assistant and we rushed to the hospital. I didn't expect what I saw. The scene was little more than controlled chaos. Helicopters landing, people shouting, wounded screaming, bodies everywhere. As the staff began to triage the dead and wounded I found the chaplain and offered my assistance. He directed me to where he needed me and I dove in. I would be hard pressed to write about every person I had the opportunity to pray with today but I will try to relate a few. I found Betty on a stretcher being tended by nurses. I introduced myself and held her hand. She looked up at me and said, "Chaplain, am I going to be alright?" I said that she was despite the fact that I could see she had a long road to recovery ahead of her. Most of her hair had been singed off. Her face was burnt fairly badly, although it didn't look like the kind of burns that will scar. What I do know is that it was painful enough to hurt just by being in the sun. I prayed with Betty and moved on. Ilena (a made up name. She spoke very softly and had a thick accent so I couldn't really hear her) had been hit by a piece of shrapnel just above her left breast causing a classic sucking chest wound. The doctors said she had a hemothorax (I think that's what they called it) which basically meant her left lung was filling with blood and she was having a very hard time breathing. For the next 20 minutes I held her hand while a doctor made an incision in her left side, inserted most of his hand and some kind of medical instrument and then a tube to alleviate the pressure caused by the pooling blood. It was probably the most medieval procedure I have ever been privy to. In the end she was taken to ICU and will be OK. Mark was put on a stretcher and laid along a wall. A small monitor on his hand would tell the nurses when he was dead. Even a cursory glance said it was inevitable. Mark had a head wound that left brain matter caked in his ear and all over the stretcher he was lying on. I knelt next to Mark and placed a hand on is chest. His heart was barely beating but it was beating so I put my face close to his ear to pray with him. If you've never smelled human brain matter it is something unforgettable. I had something of an internal struggle. He's practically dead so why stay? He probably can't hear anything! A prayer at that point seemed of little value. But I couldn't risk it. I prayed for Mark and led him in the sinners prayer as best I could. There are few things in this life that will make you feel more helpless. After that, I needed some fresh air. I stepped outside and found the situation to be only slightly less chaotic. The number of body bags had grown considerably since I first went inside. I saw a fellow chaplain who was obviously in need of care himself. I stopped him and put my arm around him and asked how he was doing. A rhetorical question if ever I asked one. He just shook his head so I pulled him in close and prayed for his strength, endurance, a thick skin, and a soft heart. Then I just stood and breathed for a few minutes. Regardless of what some may say, these are not stupid people. Any attack with casualties will naturally mean that eventually a very large number of care givers will be concentrated in one location. They took full advantage of that. In the middle of the mayhem the first mortar round hit about 100 to 200 meters away. Everyone started shouting to get the wounded into the hospital which is solid concrete and much safer than being in the open. Soon, the next mortar hit quite a bit closer than the first as they "walked" their rounds toward their intended target...us. Everyone began to rush toward the building. I stood at the door shoving as many people inside as I could. Just before heading in myself, the last one hit directly on top of the hospital. I was standing next to the building so was shielded from any flying shrapnel. In fact, the building, being built as a bunker took the hit with little effect. However, I couldn't have been more than 10 to 15 meters from the point of impact and brother did I feel the shock. That'll wake you up! I rushed inside to find doctors and nurses draped over patients, others on the floor or under something. I ducked low and quickly moved as far inside as I could. After a few tense moments people began to move around again and the business of patching bodies and healing minds continued in earnest. As I stood talking with some other chaplain, an officer approached and not seeing us, yelled, "Is there a chaplain around here?" I turned and asked what I could do. He spoke to us and said that another patient had just been moved to the "expectant" list and would one of us come pray for him. I walked in and found him lying on the bed with a tube in his throat, and no signs of consciousness. There were two nurses tending to him in his final moments. One had a clipboard so I assumed she'd have the information I wanted. I turned to her and asked if she knew his name. Without hesitation the other nurse, with no papers, blurted out his first, middle, and last name. She had obviously taken this one personally. I'll call him Wayne. I placed my hand on his head and lightly stroked his dark hair. Immediately my mind went to my Grandpa's funeral when I touched his soft grey hair for the last time. And for the second time in as many hours I prayed wondering if it would do any good, but knowing that God is faithful and can do more than I even imagine. When I finished I looked up at the nurse who had known his name. She looked composed but struggling to stay so. I asked, "Are you OK?" and she broke down. I put my arm around her to comfort and encourage her. She said, "I was fine until you asked!" Then she explained that this was the third patient to die on her that day.

Visit his site and read the rest.

The families of the fallen troops will be in my prayers. Also, the surviving troops who will be tasked with boxing up the personal effects of those killed and wounded, and sending them home to grieving families. This would be so hard any time of the year but especially during the holiday season when our focus is on home and family and loved ones far away.

Posted by Deb at 07:07 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

December 20, 2004

Merry Christmas from MSSG 31

“Today, Everyone’s 21.”
Cpl Revere and Sgt Guerrero from MSSG 31 Motor Transport and Headquarters Detachments celebrate with “two beers and a shot” during a belated Marine Corps Birthday celebration.

LtCol James A. Vohr sends this Christmas greeting to friends and family of MSSG

Merry Christmas everybody and an up- front Happy New Year to all. I just looked at the calendar and realized it had been since the 4th of December since I had penned my last update and so that means it is time for another submission to let all know what we are doing. Things have continued to be challenging here at Camp Fallujah and our daily missions have changed with the maturing situation in the City of Fallujah. We are all still busy, still working hard and that never seems to change. For the last few months, as some of you may realize, we have not had all of the Marines from the MSSG at the same location. Some have been spread out across different camps for one or more reasons which speak to the many different missions we have in this unit. We have, for example, a medical contingent and some of our disbursers and postal Marines who have remained with the MEU command element to provide support to them. They have been away from the MSSG, but have been performing missions no less important and have been doing a great job. I stopped by the group aid station the other day, as I will often do, to see how our Sailors were doing. During the battle for Fallujah these professionals made an enormous difference and contribution. Every convoy or engineering project that went forward had the constant presence of a corpsman in the event a Marine was injured. Many of our Sailors spent many hours in vehicles or in the city of Fallujah. At daily sick call our corpsmen provided care for not only our Marines, but as I have mentioned before, the soldiers of adjacent Army units. At one point a group of Iraqi soldiers “discovered” our aid station and for a number of days appeared like clockwork to get dressings changed on battle wounds. Our medical logisticians made sure the infantry battalion aid stations located forward had the required supplies prior to even thinking about asking for them. I’m sure this made a difference to many a wounded Marine. We’ve also had corpsmen providing support to the detainee detention facilities at more than one base and in this effort have treated a variety of medical problems they never expected to see. On of our busiest platoons as late have been our engineers. They have a tremendous amount of capabilities and I don’t think Marine engineers have been so consistently busy since the Vietnam War. They take care of field showers, mobile electric power, bulk fuel and water storage, mine detecting and sweeping, and horizontal construction. They are always in motion and doing a tremendous job supporting the mission. An element of the MSSG you often don’t think about when it comes to combat service support is Explosives Ordnance Disposal (EOD). For years this tight knit community has focused on support to training ranges and rendering dud munitions safe. However, OIF has seen all of that change and the services of these experts in their field is in constant demand. They are always on the road, destroying anti-Iraqi forces arms caches or de-fusing and destroying improvised explosive devises. During the battle for Fallujah they spent many days providing direct support to the infantry battalions as they fought through the city. The fact they are so near the fight became obvious to us when one of them was seriously wounded as he worked to destroy munitions in a house that had not yet been cleared. Fortunately, he will be fine, but it demonstrates the nature of what we are doing and the challenges EOD and the rest of the MSSG face on a daily basis. At the start of this letter I said Merry Christmas. I can certainly say for all we would rather be at home with you for the holidays. Since we can’t we are doing what we have time to do to ensure we recognize the season. For those inclined, there are many opportunities for worship services, as the chaplain corps is here in full force. For everyone too, we are having a “combat Christmas tree” contest to see which platoon can build the best tree with available materials. None of the parts can be store bought, and you should see what the Marines are coming up with as entries. I will be sure and get pictures and post them to the website. We are also having opportunities for the Marines and Sailors to see movies and are running a talent show as well. Finally, the boxes and mail are really flowing, something we all appreciate. Thanks for the continued efforts. Well, until next time and as always, I’m proud and you should be proud of the Marines and Sailors of MSSG 31. It is an honor to serve with them. Thanks for all your support Sincerely, J. Alex Vohr

Posted by Deb at 03:05 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

Grizzly Greetings

Linda Kelly, Marine Mom currently living near Yellowstone Park, put her professional photography skills to good use for her Christmas cards this year. Here's her holiday greeting for all of you.

Linda's also looking for high resolution images of deployments, homecomings, facial expressions of emotion, Marines in combat, Iraqis, Iraq in general, boot camp, flags, yellow ribbons and fallen soldier images (approved by surviving families) to be used for a slide presentation for the Marine Parents convention next summer. Editors and photographers can contact Linda Kelly for details at Westone Publishing, 3 Crevice Mountain Road, Jardine, MT 59030.

Posted by Deb at 01:38 AM | Comments (4) | TrackBack