Page One of Four PagesCRNA in Iraqby Captain Jeffrey Joyceas told to Wayne JohnstonEd. Note: CPT Joyce has returned from an additional tour
of duty in Afghanistan.
WELCOME TO OUR COUNTRY
Everything was calm -- dark and calm -- until the second or third hour into the flight. Then I heard high pitched whirring noises and I noticed several team members peering out a small window of the C-130 Talon. Our plane suddenly began to take on a violent aerial ballet. Someone was firing 100mm Anti-Aircraft Artillery (Triple A) at us. Welcome to Iraq.
We had boarded that C-130 in the middle of the night in Romania, along with several Operational Detachment Alpha teams (ODA's), a load of weapons and rockets, and all of our gear for a Forward Surgical Team. An FST is a twenty person organization: two trauma surgeons, one orthopedic surgeon and two CRNAs (myself as one), along with ICU and OR nurses, surgical technicians and paramedics.
The primary Mission of a Forward Surgical Team is to treat battle casualties, wounded American soldiers who might die if transported to hospital units in the rear without immediate resuscitation and stabilization. The FST is the most forward surgical unit in the Army, situated as near the battlefront as possible in order to treat casualties expeditiously. An FST is highly mobile, capable of providing life-saving anesthesia and surgery inside a tent, and expected to be up and running at a new location within sixty minutes from boots on the ground. As my plane gyrated through the air over Iraq that night I was wishing my boots were already back safely on the ground.
Shortly after takeoff from Romania we had learned that we were to be the first flight over Turkey to in-fill into northern Iraq. I jokingly said to the crew chief as she moved parachutes around, "Where's mine?" The look she gave me told me something was up.
The crew chief in fact knew that another C-130 flying the southern route across Jordan had taken several hits over Iraq from 100mm AAA, and that the crew had been forced to make an emergency landing. (I later met a fellow who was on that flight; he described how the plane had withstood several solid hits: one round took out an engine, another barely missed a crew member and exited through the front window. The flight crew brought that craft down safely, but with fuel pouring onto the landing strip from multiple holes in the fuselage. Later they found that a food ration box someone had been sitting on contained AAA fragments. Fortunately no one aboard was hurt.)
Our C-130 gave a great lurch as our pilot began executing 'nap of the earth' manuevers. This is an evasive technique used to get in under radar. The plane is flown as close as possible to the terrain, providing a wonderful joy ride as you follow the contour of the land. At this point your stomach starts playing games with gravity and your body becomes weightless and the reality dawns on you -- in the dark, except for the green Emerald City lighting used by the flight crew -- that you're no longer in Kansas anymore, Dorothy. I can assure you that it is not fun flying in the back of a C-130 in blackout conditions with a hundred or so guys dressed in full battle rattle. You start to think about your family and ask God just to get us back safely on the ground.
I had left my family back home in February after an Oh-Dark-Thirty phone call. Most days I'm up early to prepare for my usual day as a CRNA at Morton Hospital and Medical Center in Taunton, Mass., but that day had started differently, with a phone call requesting my presence for deployment under Operation Iraqi Freedom. I've been active in the military for several years, first on the enlisted side and now as a commissioned officer in the Army Reserve.
My FST group assembled at Fort McCoy, Wisconsin, where we spent four weeks gearing up. Word came in March that we would be attached to the Tenth Special Forces Group, Green Berets deploying in Northern Iraq. Within a few days I was in Romania. On March 21st in the middle of the night we boarded that bouncy C-130 Talon. This was a top secret mission, coming shortly after the so-called 'Decapitation Attack' on Baghdad that formally launched hostilities in Iraq.
That night the pilot and his crew were our heroes. They did their job like the professional experts they are and landed us safely in pitch black on an airfield in northern Iraq. The only complications were a couple of people with motion sickness.
We stepped down from the C-130 onto the tarmac in total darkness. The aircraft's engines are so powerful that the prop wash throws you back along the runway even with seventy-five pounds of body armor, weapons, chemical protective gear and duffel bags on your back. There was equipment strewn everywhere; within thirty minutes we had off-loaded all our FST gear and our friends on the C-130 were back in the air, taking with them our heartfelt thanks.
It became clear that we were definitely in Iraq, as we were greeted by a hundred Iraqi coalition forces. They spoke only Kurdish and wore the traditional Kurdish black and white head dress, representing the Peoples Union of Kurdistan (PUK). Unlike us in our high tech combat boots, many of the Iraqis were shod in Nike or Reebok tennis shoes. (See photo next page.) They did appear to be very well armed. We became a bit nervous when a rocket propelled grenade round exploded near the end of the runway. Later we learned it was an accidental discharge from one of our local 'friendlies.'
Welcome to Operation Iraqi Freedom.
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