Behind the scenes, surgical unit treats Fallujah's casualties
Marine Corps News
Story Identification #: 20041272440
Story by Staff Sgt. Jim Goodwin
CAMP TAQADDUM, Iraq (Dec. 7, 2004) -- As Marines are stamping out remaining pockets of insurgents in Fallujah, a different battle is being fought here - the battle to save lives.
In the first six days of the offensive, the 63 surgeons, nurses, corpsmen, and other personnel of the Surgical Shock Trauma Platoon treated 157 patients, including 29 Iraqis and performed 73 operations.
By comparison, the SSTP treated 63 patients in September, and 122 patients in October. During the first week of November, the SSTP treated 132 casualties.
The SSTP is one of three major immediate surgical and trauma care teams assigned to Marine forces operating in Iraq. The other two are Alpha and Bravo Surgical Companies, located in Al Asad and Camp Fallujah, Iraq, respectively.
All three facilities fall under the 1st Force Service Support Group, which provides all logistical support to the 31,000 Marines, sailors and soldiers operating in the Al Anbar Province of Iraq.
In the days leading up to combat operations in Fallujah, the staff began preparing for the expected additional casualties.
They staged “push packs” – large containers of medical supplies needed for surgery. Additional medical personnel were brought in from other units here. The blood supply was increased by 50 percent, courtesy of Marine donors. Medical equipment was repaired and serviced. Extra tents were available to house extra patients.
The stage was set, and the Marines’ medical personnel were ready.
“We can do ‘damage controlling, death cheating’ surgery here,” said Navy Lt. Charles L. Cather, one of SSTP’s operating room nurses.
“Damage Controllin’, Death Cheatin’” is the unit’s catch-phrase for their medical mission: control the damage, which often times translates into stopping further blood loss; stabilize the patient, and prepare them for movement to a larger medical facility for further treatment via aircraft.
As the Marines began the assault through the “City of Mosques,” the expected increase in casualties arrived. Marines and soldiers from the frontlines transported their wounded on High Mobility Multi-purpose Vehicles and helicopters.
At one point, the SSTP had so many casualties coming in, the gravel road in front of the SSTP’s tents were jam-packed with a “chain of ambulances, dropping off patients,” said Cather, a 32-year-old native of Voluntown, Conn.
Despite the increased number of casualties the SSTP received during the height of Fallujah operations, most are able to be saved, due in large to the modern body armor issued and worn by Marines, said Cather.
“If they weren’t wearing their flak (vest) and Kevlar (helmet), they’d have all this damaged,” said Cather, pointing to his head and chest.
Cpl. Howard A. Antonio, 32, a fire team leader with Lima Company, 3rd Battalion, 1st Marine Regiment, was treated for a broken wrist sustained when an explosion went off near the building he and his Marines had just secured in Fallujah.
“The people who want to kill us are still there,” said Antonio, speaking while sitting upright on a cot, his arm in a sling, his face unshaven and covered in dirt. He spent eight days in Fallujah.
“I wish I was back out there,” said the Chicago native. “Here, I’m safe. But my Marines aren’t. My job as an NCO (noncommissioned officer) is to be out there with them. I’d be back there now if I could.”
Several other Marines from Antonio’s unit were also admitted to the SSTP that day, with much more severe wounds – shrapnel from IED’s and bullet wounds.
They were rushed into the OR for immediate surgery.
When patients arrive at SSTP, they are immediately off-loaded from the ambulance. Physicians and corpsmen assess the severity of the wounds. Patients with life-threatening injuries are rushed directly into the OR so doctors can “control the damage.”
Time is of the essence when it comes to treating severe, traumatic wounds, said Navy Cdr. Steven L. Banks, SSTP’s assistant officer in charge. A few minutes can mean the difference between life and death.
As Banks spoke, other members of the medical staff are positioned outside the SSTP’s tents donning scrub caps and gloves. Looking down a gravel road, they are awaiting an incoming ambulance carrying a soldier who has been shot.
While waiting for the inbound patient, Banks reflects on the 150 plus patients he and the rest of the staff treated during the initial week of Operation Al Fajr.
“That’s a lot of work,” said Banks, a 48-year-old native of San Diego. “But everyone here supports each other. We just have to get it done.”
Several minutes later, another radio call comes through - two more patients are inbound via helicopter.
Then another call comes over the radio – “D.O.W.,” screams Navy Lt. Guadalupe L. Lopez, SSTP’s personnel officer, repeating the information she just received over the radio.
The inbound soldier with the gunshot wound is “D.O.W.” - dead of wounds.
“Sometimes they just don’t get to us fast enough,” said Banks, a 48-year-old San Diego native.
Most casualties do make it to the SSTP in time and most survive their injuries, although some may end up losing an arm, leg, or both, due to their injuries.
Mental recovery from wounds sustained in combat can be just as traumatic as physical recovery. That’s where Navy Lt. Cdr. Eric E. Cunha’s mission begins.
Cunha, 42, is a clinical psychologist 1st FSSG, and is charged with helping recovering patients deal with combat stress.
“My job is to help them get through this moment,” said Cunha, a native of San Jose, Calif.
The mental fatigue associated with combat can be devastating to battle weary Marines. Cunha tries to reunite patients with their units when possible to prevent separation anxiety associated with being a casualty.
“When they [Marines] come out here, they’re young. They’re units are their families,” said Cunha, who adds that “three hots and a cot” also helps reduce combat stress.
“They’re closer to some of their buddies out here than to their immediate family members,” he said.
But Cunha is also available to help the SSTP’s staff deal with their own personal demons serving in a combat environment brings – treating severe combat wounds.
“I get them to a point where they can cope,” said Cunha.
When a patient doesn’t survive, Cather reminds his corpsmen that it’s not their fault – sometimes people just die.
“If a patient doesn’t make it, I tell them it’s not because the (OR) tables weren’t ready, or they didn’t anticipate what was needed, it’s because he (patient) was shot,” said Cather. “This is war.”
Hospital Corpsman Joey E. Aguilar has seen his fair share of combat casualties over the past month, just as his fellow corpsmen serving throughout Iraq.
“There’s been some days where I say, ‘Man, this is too much,’” said Aguilar, pausing from playing a hand-held video game during some down time.
The 22-year-old Redlands, Calif., native extended for an additional seven months of duty here. Aguilar could have returned to Marine Corps Base Camp Pendleton, Calif., last month, where he is stationed in the U.S. He recalls working well-beyond his scheduled 12-hours at a nearly non-stop rate during the height of Fallujah operations. Still, he doesn’t regret his decision to stay.
“This is what I’ve been trained to do. Save lives,” said Aguilar.
When they don’t have patients in their facilities, the medical staff relax by reading books, movies, socializing with peers – anything to take their minds off their work, even if only for a brief period.
“An empty ward is good,” said Aguilar. “I’d rather be bored than have patients.”
Shortly after, another call comes over the radio – three more patients are inbound: two with shrapnel wounds from an improvised explosive device, another has been shot in the leg.
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