Lest We Forget (19 page)

I knock one of the guys stomping on Flippy's face to the ground.  This gives Flip enough space to get up.  I start backing up preparing for one of these idiots to pull out a weapon.  As I am backing up I bump into someone.  I turn to face him, fists up, ready to strike.  To my surprise the guy is in uniform.  He has on a beautiful tan beret.  "You Rangers?" he asks.

"Roger" I reply.

"I'm staff duty, come on let's get the fuck out of here."

Nathan and Flip grab Dave and we back away.  The three guys left on their feet are trying to help their five buddies up and don't attempt to chase us.  The staff duty truck was across the street.  Just as we were getting in we see those damn red and blue lights.  SHIT!  As the cop steps out of his squad car I see two girls walking down the street.  I change direction and begin walking with them acting like I don't know those other guys.  It almost worked too.  Almost.  The officer hollers at me and I respond that I don't know those guys.  Like most things I attempt to turn it into a big joke.  He collects all of our IDs.  Well Shit!  Looks like we're going to jail.  Just as he has all of our licenses, some absolutely random guy in a muscle car pulls up and yells, "FUCK YOU" to the cop and peels out.  The officer hands our IDs the staff duty NCO and tells us to wait here as he gets into his car to chase that beautiful drunk asshole that just burnt rubber. 

"So you guys want to wait around for that cop to come back and arrest us?"

"Fuck that!"

"Yeah, good call Nathan!"

The staff duty NCO takes us all home, one by one. 

The next morning when we arrive at Battalion, Flip has a boot print tattooed on his face.  Dave and Nathan are
hung-over beyond belief.  I still can't believe Dave took that shot of Jager after throwing up.  After our morning formation, Nathan decides that he is going to go home.  This wasn't the first time that he decided to cut out of work 11 hours early.  We created an award called "Soft Skill of the Month" that Nathan had won for the last five months; this would ensure that his streak would not go unbroken.  A "soft skill" is a term used to describe anyone who has a job other than infantry.  Having a job like medic, comms, training room, or cook would qualify you for our made up award.  Nathan had won in previous months for taking a long nap in the cab of a truck during squad evals while everyone else was training in the rain.  He said that he was monitoring the radio and there was no point in him getting wet if he didn't have to.  Another month he had me remove a tumor from his left arm to get out of doing a jump.  The standing rule is that you are not allowed to jump if you have stitches. 

So Nathan wasn't around when we got called into the First Sergeant's office.  1SG Sealy was nicknamed "The Rhino" and for good reason.  The man's legs were thicker than my waste.  He was built like an NFL linebacker with close to twenty years as a Ranger.  He was the only First Sergeants I had ever known to have a beer with the privates in his company.  He knew that the strength of the Regiment was the men and he was always willing to listen to their opinions about things.  On this day, however, he arrived to work and received a phone call from staff duty informing him that some of the guys in his company were in a drunken brawl the night before.  That put him in a bad mood. 

I was running sick call in my aid station when Flip came in and told us that the 1SG was pissed and we had thirty seconds to get into his office.  The ass chewing that followed could be heard by the guys in the chow hall.  He. Was. Pissed.  I remember him saying, "When staff duty told me that some of my Rangers got in a fight downtown while we were on IRC, I thought I was going to have to kick four privates out of Ranger Battalion.  Then I find out it is my senior company medic, training room NCO and commo chief.  Wait, where the fuck is Nathan?  You assholes know that if you had been arrested you would have fucked the entire company?  What the fuck were you thinking you dumb ...."

I interrupt him, "1SG..."

I realize that the question that he was asking was strictly rhetorical and he didn't really want any of us to say a damn thing.  His eyes get even bigger as he focuses them directly at my soul. 

"...1SG, we were only doing what we were trained to do, we were looking after another Ranger."

He takes a deep breath in.  He wants to destroy me right now but I can see in his eyes that he knows that I am right.  "GET THE FUCK OUT!!"  He yells.

We don't hesitate.  The three of us scurry for the door the way a dog does when it's been kicked in the ass for shitting on the rug.  We get back to the aid station and call Nathan, he doesn't answer.  He's probably sleeping.  What a shit head.  At least he doesn't have to walk around the rest of the day with a boot print on his face.

….

Just a few weeks later it would be my turn to say goodbye to this chapter in my life.  Like my first return from overseas there was no ceremony.  Everyone was busy preparing for another training event.  There was no going away party when my time came.  My platoon sergeant, a man who I have a world of respect for joked that I was always getting over when there was work to do.  I told him that it had been an honor being his medic and shook his hand.  I walked back into my aid station for the last time to hang my dog tags from the ceiling along side each of the medics that had left before me and walked out the door without anyone noticing.

….

An End Note

I had visited 46 states and drank a beer in every one of them.  I conducted hundreds of real world missions as a special operations medic, some good, some bad but everyone a learning experience.  I helped some men to live while taking the lives of others.  I was trusted with the health and well being of our nations heroes.  I learned more about myself in a couple of years than most men will in a lifetime.  I lost friends and gained tattoos and scars.  The confidence that I would take away from this experience is, to this day, my most valuable character trait; it is also what alienates me from most people.  Most importantly I worked side by side with the best men of our generation.  Men that would have no doubt fought beside Leonidas at Thermopylae had they been born 2,500 years sooner.  These men are the greatest hope of our generation.  They are altruism, they are benevolence.  They are terror in the hearts of the enemy.  They are blue collar farmers and college graduates, doctors and business owners.  They are fathers, brothers, and sons.  They have carried the burden of our nation.  They are my friends, my brothers, and forever will be.

More
cool guy pictures:

The high-speed life of a Ranger medic!  This was inside the aid station where Dave, Dano, Smith, Matt N., Lewis, John G. and the other medics of Charlie Company spent most of our time.

Flying someplace cool to do something badass in Afghanistan.

Me, Jess, and Matt Ranger school graduation.

Some of the medics from C-Co 3/75 a couple of weeks before I got out in October 2006.

Waiting for ammo to show up at a range in Ft. Benning.  The younger enlisted went head to head in wacky bat races to entertain
the NCO’s.  20 spins then a 40-meter sprint to the closest tree.