Read Online Mass Casualties: A Young Medic's True Story of Death, Deception, and Dishonor in Iraq by Michael Anthony - Free Book Online
Authors: Michael Anthony
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It's 2300 hours. I need to be at work in eight hours and I am wide awake.
2315 HOURS, MY ROOM
Markham is already asleep and snoring when I get back to my room. Opening the door, I slam it closed and turn the light on. I am angry, but I don't know what to do with the anger. I don't know what day of the week it is. I'm angry at Gagney and his schedules and most of all angry at myself for not being able to do anything. I'm powerless — I'm weak — I'm not a man — I only do whatever I am told — I'm a sprocket in the machine of the Army, an easily replaceable sprocket. I wish I could go back to feeling nothing. I know what to do with nothing — nothing. I know what to do with nothing — nothing. I know what to do with nothing — nothing… .
I glance over at the bottle of pills on my nightstand. It's the middle of the night. I'm nowhere near sleep and I have eight hours to kill. I really have no choice but to take more… .
WEEK 1, DAY 2, IRAQ
0730 HOURS, OR
Gagney is at the door waiting for me as I head into the OR half an hour late:
“Hey Anthony, I heard you came in last night by accident. I hope I'm not working you too hard, am I? How you feeling buddy?” He smiles, but it looks awkward and forced. I think the only thing scarier than seeing your executioner would be seeing your executioner smile as he kills you. Gagney talks to me through his smile.
“I went to the Post Exchange and got everyone bagels. Go ahead and grab one.”
Elster and Reto are in the break room eating.
“So, I'm in Iraq and I no longer dream of being home with family or friends. Now I only dream of Gagney being nice to me,” I say in an attempt at humor.
“You ain't dreaming,” Elster tells me. “Gagney is being nice to you.”
The chief ward masters are having a meeting with us today. Chief ward masters are the ones that are in charge of the hospital. If there are any problems, they're the final word. Early this morning someone went and complained about Gagney and the way he's been running things. Apparently, our section looks like crap. All the other sections are on set schedules and ours is the only one that changes every day.
The day goes by slow. We have no cases so Gagney has us clean the entire OR. He sends Reto to tell everyone on all the other shifts about the meeting. It's going to be between first and second shift, but everyone from third shift has to be there as well.
1505 HOURS, OR
The chief ward masters ask us to tell them what's bothering us.
Torres is the first to start talking. “I'm not one to complain, but the way this man is treating us is disrespectful — ”
“Idiots, he treats us like we're idiots,” Hudge interrupts.
“We switch shifts every day. I am on second shift today. Yesterday I was on first, the day before that second, the day before that third. Tomorrow I'm back on third shift. How does any of that make sense?” says Crade.
“He doesn't do any work. All he does is sit around and play computer games and watch anime. He was sent here as an operating room technician, but why has he only done a handful of cases since he's been here? I do as many in one day as he does in a month,” says Sellers, who has obviously come to see the light.
Waters jumps in. “We need better leadership, someone who will stay on top of things. He yelled at me twice last week over nothing. There is no need for him to raise his voice to us.”
An hour goes by and everyone has something negative to say about Gagney. Hudge, Sellers, and Waters all have tears in their eyes. The chief ward masters look at Reto and me and ask if we have anything to add since we haven't spoken yet. Everyone in the OR is looking at us. I look at Reto. His eyes are red, not from the lack of sleep, but because he's going to cry. He can't control himself any longer.
“This is bullshit. I joined the Army to help people, not to be treated like shit. I understand that we're at war and that times are tough. But look at every other
2315 HOURS, MY ROOM
Markham is already asleep and snoring when I get back to my room. Opening the door, I slam it closed and turn the light on. I am angry, but I don't know what to do with the anger. I don't know what day of the week it is. I'm angry at Gagney and his schedules and most of all angry at myself for not being able to do anything. I'm powerless — I'm weak — I'm not a man — I only do whatever I am told — I'm a sprocket in the machine of the Army, an easily replaceable sprocket. I wish I could go back to feeling nothing. I know what to do with nothing — nothing. I know what to do with nothing — nothing. I know what to do with nothing — nothing… .
I glance over at the bottle of pills on my nightstand. It's the middle of the night. I'm nowhere near sleep and I have eight hours to kill. I really have no choice but to take more… .
WEEK 1, DAY 2, IRAQ
0730 HOURS, OR
Gagney is at the door waiting for me as I head into the OR half an hour late:
“Hey Anthony, I heard you came in last night by accident. I hope I'm not working you too hard, am I? How you feeling buddy?” He smiles, but it looks awkward and forced. I think the only thing scarier than seeing your executioner would be seeing your executioner smile as he kills you. Gagney talks to me through his smile.
“I went to the Post Exchange and got everyone bagels. Go ahead and grab one.”
Elster and Reto are in the break room eating.
“So, I'm in Iraq and I no longer dream of being home with family or friends. Now I only dream of Gagney being nice to me,” I say in an attempt at humor.
“You ain't dreaming,” Elster tells me. “Gagney is being nice to you.”
The chief ward masters are having a meeting with us today. Chief ward masters are the ones that are in charge of the hospital. If there are any problems, they're the final word. Early this morning someone went and complained about Gagney and the way he's been running things. Apparently, our section looks like crap. All the other sections are on set schedules and ours is the only one that changes every day.
The day goes by slow. We have no cases so Gagney has us clean the entire OR. He sends Reto to tell everyone on all the other shifts about the meeting. It's going to be between first and second shift, but everyone from third shift has to be there as well.
1505 HOURS, OR
The chief ward masters ask us to tell them what's bothering us.
Torres is the first to start talking. “I'm not one to complain, but the way this man is treating us is disrespectful — ”
“Idiots, he treats us like we're idiots,” Hudge interrupts.
“We switch shifts every day. I am on second shift today. Yesterday I was on first, the day before that second, the day before that third. Tomorrow I'm back on third shift. How does any of that make sense?” says Crade.
“He doesn't do any work. All he does is sit around and play computer games and watch anime. He was sent here as an operating room technician, but why has he only done a handful of cases since he's been here? I do as many in one day as he does in a month,” says Sellers, who has obviously come to see the light.
Waters jumps in. “We need better leadership, someone who will stay on top of things. He yelled at me twice last week over nothing. There is no need for him to raise his voice to us.”
An hour goes by and everyone has something negative to say about Gagney. Hudge, Sellers, and Waters all have tears in their eyes. The chief ward masters look at Reto and me and ask if we have anything to add since we haven't spoken yet. Everyone in the OR is looking at us. I look at Reto. His eyes are red, not from the lack of sleep, but because he's going to cry. He can't control himself any longer.
“This is bullshit. I joined the Army to help people, not to be treated like shit. I understand that we're at war and that times are tough. But look at every other
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