Email this page to friends About Military Diaries Military Diaries are first-hand accounts of what it's like, on a day-to-day basis, to serve our country as part of the U.S. military. Through these personal journal entries, each of our contributors shares a unique voice and point of view with us. Interested in contributing? Share your story here. Related Links Military Diaries Archive Army Community Center Global Hotspot: Iraq

Page 2

I wasn't doing much, because there were too many people there, and I was starting to feel kind of useless. I took a moment to look around, and I could see that there was still smoke and dust hanging in the air. There were plate-shaped weights and hexagonal dumbbells of various sizes scattered all over the place, some of them damaged. The wooden sign-in desk was a collection of splinters near me -- the woman must have been near the desk. The metal weight racks and universal machines were twisted wreckage, many of them in a big clump on her other side. There was broken glass on the ground -- good thing I hadn't run over barefoot. There was a chaplain from another unit standing near me.

People starting shouting, "If you're not a medic, back up! " I stayed put, of course. Somebody addressed the crowd on the other side of me, telling them to start clearing away the debris around us. It was a large crowd of soldiers desperate to help in any way possible, so weights started FLYING out of there. It's lucky they didn't kill each other with them. I finally had to move back as a litter was brought in, and the patient was rolled onto it. I tossed my bag of Hetastarch into the space between the patient's legs, hoping that the flight medics would see it and piggyback the bag onto the saline. After the litter was lifted clear and carried away, I could see the puddle of blood left behind, where the patient's head had been.

I gathered up my medical gear and stuffed it into my bag. I found a small, expensive flashlight, and asked whose it was. Somebody said it belonged to one of the medics, so I had him hold onto it. I saw a man digging through debris in a small hole in the ground, which was obviously the point of impact. I started to tell him that he should wait until the hole had been photographed and examined by the appropriate experts, and somebody told me, "It's okay. He's the brigade's surveyor."

My personal guess is that the explosion was from the impact of an HE (high explosive) 82mm mortar round, which had passed through the cloth ceiling and detonated on the ground. I haven't heard the official findings yet.

I picked my way out of the concertina wire, and saw my battalion's chaplain and surgeon. The doctor asked me how many patients there were, and I told him that I'd only seen the one, and she'd been evacuated already. I also told him what the patient's injuries were, noted that she'd been alive when carried away, but said I thought she was going to die. I headed back toward my room, and saw that the area had already been cordoned off with engineer tape. As I stepped under the tape, I saw the battalion's PAO (public affairs office) man, with his camera. I told him that I wanted copies of his pictures.

Walking away, I ran into people I knew, milling around and wanting information. I stopped to talk in front of the Internet trailer, which is the side away from the former gym, and told them that the woman had been alive when she was carried away, but didn't look good. I asked the guy who had been working there if the trailer itself was damaged. He didn't think so, but we both walked around the other side to see. Some electrical wires torn were down, but nothing else. As I walked back to the front, I realized that our unit's chain of command hadn't gotten around to shutting down our Internet service yet, but would probably do so shortly, so I ran in, logged on, and sent a quick, one-line message to my mother. "Mortar attack. Some casualties, but I'm unhurt." I hit the "Send" button as quickly as I could, and waited for the acknowledgement. Got that, and started typing a second message, but then the sergeant in charge came in and ordered me off, none too politely. I signed off and shut down.

I went back to my room and found my roommate already back. He'd gone in another direction, and seen two patients. One was walking wounded, and one was buried in weights. He ran into the same problem I had -- too many medics around one patient. He stuck around until they were evacuated. We talked for a while, and then I went back to sleep.

When I was going to the Aid Station for my 1500-2300 QRF shift, I made a short detour to the site of the gym tent, with my camera. The remains of the tent had been taken down, and the concrete pad that it sat on was being swept clean. There was a pile of twisted wreckage in one area, and a collection of equipment on the opposite side. It looked like the latter was stuff that had been salvaged, more or less intact, from the side of the tent away from the blast. I took a couple of pictures and a panoramic video, but I'm sure that the pictures will not do justice to the scene.

Some people that I met on the way to work told me that the civilian woman had died. I told them that I wasn't surprised. I was also told that a man in 2nd Platoon had been outdoors and near the gym, and was knocked to the ground by the blast. He reportedly got up and ran away at an impressive speed.

At the Aid Station, I couldn't confirm the rumors that the woman had died, but the doctor told me that he wouldn't be surprised. Apparently, she had been taken to our Troop Medical Clinic (TMC), which was the nearest helipad. Our doctor went there as well, and the TMC doctors told him that she had... well anyway, they described her injuries, and he told me about them. Possible to survive all that, but not easy and not likely.

© 2005. All opinions expressed in this article are the author's and do not necessarily reflect those of Military.com.