Matt Sanchez

'Medevac, medevac, medevac!'

Ride along with U.S. military
quick reaction force saving lives in Iraq

By Matt Sanchez   

Embedding with the quick reaction force – QRF – was like drawing straws and hoping something would happen on the long 24-hour shifts.  

I was with the "C" Company 7th Battalion, 101st Aviation Regiment from Fort Campbell, Ky., a medical evacuation team stationed at Balad, Iraq, north of Baghdad. Its motto: "Bene Volare Vitam Salvare," "To fly well is to save lives."

Paul Rauscher, a chief warrant officer and pilot originally from Lake of Ozarks, Minn., was on his third trip to Iraq, where he piloted a UH-60 Sikorsky, a type of flying ambulance with 6 litters for the wounded.

Rauscher was considered a mission-killer. "Nothing ever happens when I come on duty," he said jokingly while introducing me to his crew and commanding officer. On the other hand, 1st Lt. Travis Owen, a young pilot on his first tour in Iraq, had a reputation for being a "mission magnet." I guess the two men were supposed to cancel each other out, and with the drop in violence, the odds were that we were going to spend a lot of the day watching movies.

Movies are the most popular form of entertainment in Iraq and it's not uncommon to pick up "hajji" versions – pirated copies – of the absolute latest releases. In Iraq, oil distribution was very problematic, but the network for black market blockbusters was excelsior.

Rauscher showed me the maps of the surroundings and of his area of responsibility. We were 30 clicks or so from big, sprawling Baghdad, 40 miles if you went all the way to the Green Zone, a trip Rauscher had often made.

I asked him what he thought of the Green Zone and learned that, as a pilot, he had never seen much more than the Washington Landing Zone, a small area that looks suspiciously like every other landing zone in Iraq.

To deploy to Iraq means to limit your time and space to a very small area, even when you're a pilot flying hundreds of miles. I live in Manhattan, and much of my life takes place within a couple of square blocks. Most people frequent the same places, drive the same way to work in the morning and will eat a handful of favorite foods in the evening. Routine is normal, even comforting, but the difference to the routine in Iraq is that there is no alternative.

Rauscher probably would like to step out of his Blackhawk and explore the millennial capital of ancient Mesopotamia, but he could not and he would not.

Freedom is the first casualty of war, where something as obvious as a choice is simply beyond contemplation. 

We looked at the maps and talked about locations, and the conversation eventually led to directions. 

Where was Iraq going? Anyone who told you they had the answer to that question was either a liar or a politician. Each soldier, diplomat, police officer, Iraqi child or professor had an opinion. My job was to listen, ask questions and try to provide the most honest interpretation possible.

"During my first two tours, when we got called, we were probably going to pick up a wounded American," said Rauscher. But this was his third tour and times have changed. As Iraqi forces "stand up," they also take more risks.

"Today, when we go out, the odds are we'll pick up an Iraqi," he said. And it wasn't just Iraqis falling victims to violence. A busload of Iraqi soldiers turned over in a car accident and within 30 minutes were flooding the American military hospital. A young Iraqi boy fell from a roof and ended up in the modern intensive care unit. Another boy burned in a "leaf fire." He eventually died at the American military hospital.

In American history, survival rates have never been higher than in the war in Iraq. Helicopters make it possible to reach the wounded anywhere in country in under 30 minutes. Just as important are the abilities of medics and corpsman, the "docs" dedicated to each unit. More soldiers are learning how to run an IV, or intubate the wounded.

In boot camp, drill instructors make Marines scream at the top of their lungs, "Start the breathing, stop the bleeding, protect the wound and treat for shock." Some of that stuff must have remained, even after the voices went hoarse.

Rauscher and his men were "out of the way" in a far-off part of the base where no one really bothered them. The unit had its own little gym, chow hall and entertainment center.

"This doesn't even feel like a war zone," Rauscher told me before we sat down for what I immediately pronounced the worst chow in Iraq. Isolation had its price. I cut into my rubbery spaghetti ball that could have been meatloaf.

"Medevac, medevac, medevac!" I was told the dispatcher said "medevac" three times although I barely heard the codeword the first time. Rauscher and crew were sprinting out of the chow hall. Chairs flipped over and what we used for food spilled off the table and onto the floor. We all sprinted to the helipad.

Seconds before, we were joking about the bad food and less than five minutes later we were speeding over the Iraqi countryside at 400 feet and just under 200 miles per hour. The crew had gone from immature frat boys to a professional and focused team flying into a serious situation – someone had been shot.

In the air, I noticed several Apache helicopters approaching to escort us. Geneva Convention rules prevent medical helicopters from carrying the heavy weaponry that other choppers packed, and the red cross on the front and side of the vehicle amounted to little more than a clear, bright target from the ground.

Below was Iraq – the real Iraq outside of the American bubble surrounding the air base. From the air, I saw the stone houses with gardens in the backyard, the dusty roads where visibility was as clear as the medicine cabinet mirror after a hot shower.

We came down with just enough time to load the two wounded. The force from the propellers is enough to knock a man over, and the noise of the two choppers together was deafening. The medics from the choppers moved the wounded across the pad, into the racks and snapped each one in. We were off.

Within seconds we were hundreds of feet in the sky. A young Iraqi in his early 20s had a smartly placed bandage on his right shoulder. The medic placed what looked to be a slab of wood under the dressing, meant to provide stability. The boy winced when the bird turned at an angle the way a rollercoaster will take a fast turn. Then it was straight back to the base.

On the hospital landing pad, a group of men and women were already waiting for incoming patients. With practiced ease, the crew unloaded the Iraqi and the hospital staff huddled around the patient and moved him inside.

Five minutes later, we were back in the chow hall picking up where we had left off – bad food and funny jokes. My adrenaline was still pumping, but these guys knew this was just business as usual. Because embedding with a quick reaction force was like drawing straws, and they were going to have to be ready for the next pick.

© 2007 WorldNetDaily.com

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Bill O'Reilly storms Afghanistan

Fox News Channel popular
among troops at Bagram base

By Matt Sanchez

The difference between Fox News Channel host Bill O'Reilly coming to a war zone and all other media is the focus. Normally, media arrive to do stories about the situation on the ground, but when a bona fide celebrity like O'Reilly comes, he is the story. 

As soon as I flew into Bagram Airbase in Afghanistan I saw a flyer on a window announcing O'Reilly was coming the following day. The base was abuzz. I checked into the Public Affairs Office, where all media are accredited, and found a very busy, small detachment of soldiers preparing for the DV – distinguished visitor – arrival.

What followed next happened so fast, it's difficult to keep track. 

"This trip was about meeting the troops," said Army Capt. Peter Katzfey, who called the response to O'Reilly's visit "overwhelming." The 31-year-old native of Plymouth, Wis., coordinates media visits to Afghanistan, including the "big names" like Diane Sawyer, but has seen nothing like the O'Reilly visit.

Throughout Iraq and Afghanistan, it's fair to say that many troops feel poorly represented in the media, there is however one big exception – Fox News.

The Fox factor

"Fox News is the best, and I'm Bill O'Reilly's biggest fan," said Sgt. 1st Class Shirley Jacobs with the 96th "Heavy Truck" Transportation Company out of San Antonio, Texas. Sgt. Jacobs told me that as we crossed into Iraq from Kuwait earlier this year, but the opinion of Fox News and its popular program "The O'Reilly Factor" has not wavered among servicemen stationed abroad.

There are exceptions. Some servicemen, particularly among the officers, will even tell you they despise Fox News, for a variety of reasons, but most will grudgingly admit "Bill O'Reilly tells it like it is." Especially when he unabashedly makes comments like this:

"People enlist in the military because they love their country," O'Reilly said during a radio broadcast with Airmen Staff Sgt. Tony Plyler.

Plyler was finishing up his copy of O'Reilly's book "Culture Warrior" and trying to pick out on-air material from the flood of questions the troops had sent in via e-mail.

There were some prank inquiries, but the great majority showed how much concern and interest members of the military had for the state of the country.

The age of the average servicemen in theater is about 19.5, but that didn't stop a very lively discussion about who Bill O'Reilly was and what he represented. Copies of "Culture Warrior" were nowhere to be found just minutes after the boxes of complimentary copies were opened. For the hour O'Reilly was on the air, the questions and discussions about the issues didn't stop. The war in Afghanistan, Hillary Clinton, steroids in professional sports, media bias and a divided American public are still being discussed after the O'Reilly visit.

"He packed as many visits and events [as possible] into a short period of time," said Staff Sgt. Rick McNamara, the non-commissioned officer in charge, who manned the base Media Operation Center and coordinated communications and transportations for the blitz visit.

From the moment he hit the ground in Afghanistan, O'Reilly began to meet and greet the troops. Even on the flight line, he made an effort to meet jet fighter pilots and thank them.

"It's not an exaggeration to say he personally met over 1,500 people in less than 48 hours," said Katzfey. At age 31, this Army captain would be more interested in the political atmosphere back home than his younger X-Box-engrossed comrades, but the generation that considers logging on to Facebook and Myspace a "meet and greet" was also excited to stand in line and shake the hand of a television personality who could have been their great uncle.

"All his meals were with servicemen and women," said Capt. Katzfey. Servicemen flooded the chow halls, and some ran back to their quarters to pick up a digital camera, hoping for a souvenir of the visit. But the O'Reilly staff had thought ahead.

Pens, towels, "No-Spin" mugs, Fox News T-shirts and free copies of "Culture Warrior" were quickly distributed and have since become prized items.

The "meet and greet" at the Pat Tillman USO center (named after the former football player turned Army Ranger who was killed in action) was packed with so many people that more than 100 O'Reilly fans had to be turned away, despite the visit being prolonged an extra half hour.

Thirty extra minutes may not seem like much, but the man who has sometimes referred to himself as a bloviator had a full two-page schedule written in small fonts.

Just getting around the base can be an obstacle in itself. Traffic on Disney, Bagram's main road, a thoroughfare once truffled with land mines, was booming since the biggest base in Afghanistan had secured "enduring status."

The man the president referred to as "The Factor" made the journey to both the hospital and the less-frequented north end of the military mega-base.

"He stopped and made sure you got the picture," said Capt. Brian Crowley, a veteran of both Iraq and now Afghanistan. "If he thought you didn't get a good picture, O'Reilly would stop everything and make sure you got the picture you wanted."

Just the line outside the USO center stretched to the tiny Marine headquarters, notable for its bright red door and prominently displayed eagle globe and anchor.

Marine Master Sgt. Bellini, originally from Carlstadt, N.J., cordially invited O'Reilly to stop by and visit the few Marines deployed in Afghanistan. Col. Joseph Lydon, senior Marine in Afghanistan, was surprised to see O'Reilly on his doorstep early the next morning, squeezing in one last visit before his flight back home.

"I admire someone who takes the time to come out all this way to see us. I really appreciate that," said Marine Gunnery Sgt. Andrew Lucky of York, Ala. "I was even more impressed that he took the time out to specifically see the Marines."

At age 37, with two tours in Iraq and 19 years of service to the Corps, York has seen a lot, but he's hoping for more.   

"I'd like to see Colin Powell come over here," he said.

That request will have to come through official channels, but there's no doubt the Bagram base was buzzing from the O'Reilly visit. After two months of preparation and all the obstacles one would expect in a war zone, Capt. Katzfey reflected on the whirlwind experience and was grateful the "No-Spin" master was "flexible and undemanding."

© 2007 WorldNetDaily.com

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How 1 scared Marine redeemed himself

Surviving in Haditha: A secret side of
military life the press never reports

By Matt Sanchez

The 1st and 3rd Battalion, 23rd Marine Reserves out of Texas, Louisiana and Arkansas were just "ripping in" to the little base in downtown Haditha, where they were replacing the gleeful and departing 1st battalion 3rd Marines out of Hawaii.

Camp Haditha, with its lonely road and soccer field converted into a helicopter landing pad, was a refreshing change from all the huge FOBs, or forward operating bases.

Literally in the middle of downtown Haditha, this small outpost offered none of the amenities that have become so typical of the bigger bases. A "shower" consisted of water dripping out of a bag. The "heads" – trailers equipped with toilets – were even more basic: A pipe pushed into the ground helped with one problem, and an old-fashioned outhouse was the solution to the other.

"Wagbags are a Marine thing," I remember an Army soldier telling me in Baghdad. "We don't use that stuff."

The system was simple. You went outside when you had to go, and grabbed a "Waste Bag Disposal System." You ripped the wagbag open and put the first bag over the port-o-john seat, the way you'd line a garbage can. The bag itself had powder at the bottom, which looked a lot like laundry detergent with a slightly sweeter smell. I think this was the "bio-degradable" stuff the instructions on the bag referred to.

Once you were finished, you put one bag inside a second zip-lock bag and threw the whole package into a pile that someone had designated the burn pit. Hopefully the burn pit was far enough away from where you spent most of the day, but like I said, this base was limited in size.

Burn-pit duty was possibly the least favorable assignment on any base. On the big FOBs, private contractors take care of waste disposal, but the little Haditha outpost was small enough that Marines had to fend for themselves.

When waste reached an unacceptable level, someone volunteered or was "volun-told" for the duty of getting rid of the waste. Some diesel fuel is splashed on the pile, before the whole mound is set aflame.

Sounds easy, right? But in order to properly burn all of the refuse, someone has to take a stick and move all the waste around. The smell of the burning fuel, bio-degradable agents and the contents of the wagbags is something not to be forgotten and was what I noticed the most, the first day I came to Haditha. After that, I got used to it.

Of course, waste-disposal duty lends itself to all sorts of nicknames, none of which I can repeat here. Needless to say, no one is too happy with the assignment, but there are exceptions.

This is the true tale of one Marine who spent much of a 7-month deployment stirring around the burn pit. As the 1/3 Marines were about to depart Hawaii for Haditha, a Marine who had never deployed claimed Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, PTSD, and refused to go.

Some might be surprised to learn that one can claim an "anxiety disorder" before ever even stepping into a combat zone, but that's exactly what this Marine did, and almost got away with it. Let's call him Lance Cpl. Stew.

Lance Cpl. Stew told pre-deployment screeners he had gotten word of his boot camp buddy dying in Anbar. The information was so traumatic that he requested a medical waiver from serving in Iraq.

Unfortunately for Stew, there was a former drill instructor in his company who contacted the basic training in San Diego just to verify the claim. When civilians lie, it's an omission, misrepresentation or something "everyone does" to save their hide; when members of the military lie, it's called an integrity violation and has actionable consequences.

On three entirely separate occasions, Marines and soldiers complained that some have used PTSD as an excuse to avoid deployment.

In 2005, the Department of Veterans Affairs began to review compensation for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. That same year, there was a 30 percent increase in claims for PTSD. There are currently more than 72,000 veterans drawing funds for PTSD and the number is rising.

Don't get me wrong. I've seen PTSD, it's real, but the hyper-focus on this serious issue has become so political – like so many other things surrounding Iraq – that it's impossible for military higher-ups to ignore the possibility of PTSD without compromising their careers and standing.

One officer who had served with a medical unit in Fallujah and Ramadi felt PTSD had become a type of copout, although he admitted to feeling the textbook effects of paranoia and stress when he returned back home.

So what happens when you fake an illness and try to get out of deploying to Iraq?

"He had to win the confidence back of his fellow Marines," said Bravo Company 1st Sgt. Peter Ferral. The 40-year-old former Marine Corps drill instructor's father had also served 34 years in the Corps. This was young Ferral's first time in Iraq, but he had served as the gunnery sergeant for the famous 8th and I Marines, the ones who perform at ceremonies for the president and visiting dignitaries. As the company drillmaster, Feral well understood the power and influence of discipline.

Lance Cpl. Stew was demoted to Pvt. Stew and given open-ended waste-disposal duty for his deployment to Haditha. 

As a DI, or drill instructor, it was Ferral's job to deliver hardship in order to prepare his men for the duties demanded of a Marine in a dangerous place like Haditha, where previous units had come under serious attack, with deadly consequences.

Stew's story does not end with a Marine losing some rank – that happens all the time. 

What made the tale of Stew different was the outcome. Like some sort of military parable, Pvt. Stew became a figure of redemption and "really grew over the seven-month deployment," said 1st Sgt. Ferral. There was some concern about taking a Marine "under duress" to a combat zone, but "when Marines or any group incur hardship together, they will bond," said Feral with a Solomon-like wisdom – the trademark of a good DI.

I thought about how this statement related to our country. 

After 9/11, America didn't go to war, the military did. If you're serving overseas and have made sacrifices, you're going to bond with those who have suffered likewise, including your family. If you're back home and have not felt hardship, sacrifice becomes a very relative concept.

This is the current dilemma between civilian America demanding security and fighting America duty-bound to protect it. Those who have participated the least in a place like Iraq are the most cynical, while those who have risked their lives seem to be the most optimistic.

With the 1/3 Marines "ripping out" and the 3/23 Marines replacing them in Haditha, Ferral suited up to go out for one of his last foot patrols. This was the hand-over phase, when the new guys led the old guys and soaked up as much advice and experience as possible before they would have to take charge themselves.

When the 1/3 Marines out of Hawaii came in, they had their initial problems. Haditha had a reputation for corruption and violence. In the marketplace, we met a vendor who stopped the 1st sergeant and asked him what could be done about the local police.

"They come in and wave their rifles around, pushing people," the man said through an interpreter. "They are not professionals. We need better police." The 1st sergeant wrote down the man's name and place of business. He promised they would look into it. The man thanked him and we continued on the patrol.

In the neighborhoods, Ferral said goodbye to some of the people he had come to know in the past seven months, and he also introduced them to his replacements. The more experienced Marines said the Iraqis of Haditha knew there was a change of guard coming, and this was a vulnerable moment.

Going "firm" means choosing a building or firm structure where the patrol can regroup. The average Iraqi home is built like a small fortress. The stone walls are perfect for deflecting small-arms fire and the easy access to the flat rooftops makes them ideal look-out spots. Marines quickly assumed their positions in the abandoned home, half-under construction.

This was the moment to communicate, to discuss what they had seen in town. A radioman relayed our coordinates, while some Marines sat down and took off their helmets. We had walked for over an hour and yet no one seemed tired.

There were some jokes about how the time had gone by so fast. The Marines of the 1/3 are stationed in Hawaii, and despite the obvious differences between a tropical island and a city recuperating from war, Ferral looked as if he was sincerely going to miss Haditha.

Miss a place like Haditha? This was, of course, the paradox of Iraq and what's so difficult to understand. Despite bad plumbing and the threat to personal safety, a tour in a city far away meant unique memories and experiences. For many servicemen and women, for better or worse, a place like Iraq was bound to leave a mark, indefinitely.

During the seven months in a place where violence could flare up on a street as quickly as a traffic light changed from yellow to red, only five Marines out of over 100 discharged their weapons.

Many of Pvt. Stew's fellow Marines had forgiven him, and the rumor was that he proudly served out his punishment by becoming a burn-pit expert. The fear that Pvt. Stew would crack or compromise the mission was a real one, but it never happened. I have the feeling Stew's pretend PTSD was cured by his true bravery. All the 1/3 Marines were finally leaving Iraq, but Haditha would never be far from their minds.

© 2007 WorldNetDaily.com

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Guess who's visiting the troops at Bagram Air Base?

Hot Air exclusive: Guess who’s visiting the troops at Bagram Air Base?

 Former Marine, war correspondent for World Net Daily and embedded blogger Matt Sanchez spotted Fox News Channel’s Bill O’Reilly arriving and getting ready to spend some time with the troops.  Says Matt:

"O’Reilly pulled into Afghanistan to say hello to the troops, but was spared the red carpet treatment.  Here he is at Billeting getting a standard-issue pillow and blanket."

O’Reilly made a surprise Christmas trip to Iraq last year.  This is his first trip to Afghanistan.

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Soldiers fighting for U.S. become citizens

By Matt Sanchez
© 2007 WorldNetDaily.com   

At Airbase Anaconda in Iraq, Brig. Gen. Gregory Couch pondered the irony, "We're swearing in new American citizens in one of Saddam Hussein's theaters, a place that was accustomed to a different type of spectacle."

For Veteran's Day 2007, 178 U.S. military men and women serving in Iraq became citizens of the country for which they are fighting, the United States. Secretary of Homeland Security Michael Chertoff made the trip to Iraq's largest airbase to preside over the legalization ceremony of servicemen and women who traced their birthplaces to more than 53 nations scattered around the globe.

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Effete pencil pushers need not apply

By Matt Sanchez

How many times have you heard the contention there's no military solution to the war in Iraq?

Once critics of the war placed that line in their talking points, every pseudo-expert on conflict resolution repeated it.

Understanding the benefits of the politics of peace, presidential poseur Barrack Obama called for a "diplomatic surge," because you can never have too many people talking when the other side is using suicide bombers.

 

Responding to reports that State Department officials are refusing to serve in Iraq because it's too dangerous, Rep. Duncan Hunter, R-Calif., realized the government already has access to those who have courage on their resume.

"I said, Let's go over to Bethesda and Walter Reed (hospitals) and as we get these new – these soldiers and Marines who are embarking on new careers," Hunter said, "let's recruit them for the State Department; and let's fire these guys that refuse to go, and we'll give the State Department careers to these military guys."

 

The media's Iraq con job

By Matt Sanchez

I'm convinced that when the United States went to war in April of 2003, the media drew arms as well, and although professional neutrality is key to reporting the news, I'm not always sure how many members of the press have chosen sides.

When I first got to Iraq six months ago, I had my fingers crossed. I literally had no idea what I would find. My biggest fear was that I'd see a group of very discouraged men and women trying to implement a failing policy. I thought I'd see Iraqis poorly coping with an oppressive American military.

What made me more anxious is that I swore I'd tell the full story, the good, bad and ugly. That's what the press is supposed to do. They're supposed to tell the stories of the events that happen. The job of the press is to explain what's going on in places where most readers will never be able to go.

The fact that I am a student of history gave me an additional responsibility. Primary sources, or eyewitnesses to events, are highly valued resources for historians to interpret history.

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