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Today, and every day. We love you.
"Just because my brother died, doesn't mean I don't have to serve."
- 2LT Andrew Ferrara, USMA Class of 2010
Spikes On The Ground
Army's Andy Ferrara will race for perhaps the last time as a collegian this Memorial Day weekend. After that he'll follow his three brothers into the infantry
The runner is all in black, except for his spikes. They are red, white and blue. The other men at the starting line look nervous. They are fidgeting. But the runner in black, Army cadet Andy Ferrara, is still, his hands on his hips. He's actually smirking. It's because he's reminding himself that this is serious, but it is also fun. It's not life or death. That will come later.
Ten minutes earlier Ferrara spoke on the phone with Jerry Quiller, the longtime Army track coach who recruited him five years ago and who retired in 2008, stricken by incurable multiple myeloma, a blood cancer that attacks the bone marrow. In 2000, Quiller had also encouraged Ferrara's brother Matt to come to West Point and to walk on. Quiller had called to tell Andy that the video of his anchor leg at the Penn Relays last month, where he went from fifth to first on the last lap of the collegiate heat of the 4 × 800-meter relay, brought a tear to his eye. [Video here.]
In a moment the starter's pistol will fire at the IC4A Championships, and Ferrara will cover 800 meters of Princeton University track in 1:48.57, faster than all but one Army runner ever has, and fast enough to extend the senior's career by another meet, to the NCAA Regional Championships, to be contested in Greensboro, N.C., over Memorial Day weekend. He will lean through the finish line as if he were a pearl diver breaking the surface for air. As the blood rushes back from his extremities to his stomach, he will amble Jell-O-legged behind an evergreen tree, drop to all fours and pay for the check his body just wrote with 10 minutes of retching.
Still on the ground, he'll pull off his West Point singlet, and the tattoo will be visible: MCF KIA 9NOV07. It's as big as a saucer on his left flank, at just about the same place where the bullet exited Matthew C. Ferrara's back 2½ years ago in Afghanistan.
An Army coach, standing five feet away, pays these guttural heaves no mind. This is what Ferrara does every time he competes. "When I'm throwing up after my race," he says, "I know I pushed."
THE FERRARA family calls it the Orbit. It's a two-mile stretch of neighborhood road that surrounds their home in Torrance, Calif., and anytime Andy and his brothers—Marcus, 34, and Damon, 23—and sister, Simone, 32, are home, they can often be found circling it together, with parents Mario and Linda tagging along on bikes. The elder Ferraras raised five Division I athletes: Marcus, Matt and Andy ran track at West Point; Damon ran at USC while on an ROTC scholarship; and Simone played soccer at UC Irvine. So where a less competitive clan might catch up with each other over the dinner table, the Ferraras do it while pounding out the miles over a stretch of suburban thoroughfare.
Maybe that's what happens when a father makes his kids memorize Rudyard Kipling's If. ("If you can fill the unforgiving minute/With sixty seconds' worth of distance run.... ") And since the brothers are no longer trying to expunge one another from the South Torrance High record books, this distance run is actually relaxing. "It's just time for us to chill out and b.s.," says Andy. The pace is slow enough for conversation, and the boys discuss topics of immediate concern—for example, the Army Ranger School, a grueling nine-week course that only Andy has yet to go through.
That will change within a year, as Andy becomes the fourth Ferrara brother to enter the infantry. His brothers' tales about food and sleep deprivation at Ranger School have made Andy a little anxious, but he feels track has prepared him in a unique way. "Ranger school isn't a school to teach you technical skills; it's a school to push you to your limits and teach you about yourself," Ferrara says. It teaches you how to separate your body and mind so one can function while the other cries out for mercy. "That's similar to what I see in running," he says. "With running, you single out that pain and push it to the back of your mind so you can push yourself to that next level."
Now his time on the track is almost at an end. As the NCAA ad goes, "There are 380,000 NCAA student-athletes, and most of us will go pro in something other than sports." For the 90 student-athletes who graduated from Army last week, going pro is more harrowing than it was a decade ago, before 9/11. Of the 1,002 American service members who have died in and around Afghanistan as part of Operation Enduring Freedom, 693 have come from the Army—including the Army National Guard and Army Reserve. A handful have been former student-athletes. One of them was [Andy's older brother] 24-year-old Capt. Matthew Ferrara.
Matt was leading his platoon back from a meeting with village leaders in Aranus, Afghanistan, on Nov. 9, 2007, when anti-coalition militia forces wielding guns and grenade launchers ambushed them. It wasn't the first time Matt's life had been in danger. He had earned a Silver Star for his conduct 10 weeks earlier, when his outpost came under heavy attack and he ran through an area buzzing with bullets to coordinate counterattacks that resulted in no loss of American lives. He was not one to flee danger.
But on that November day, as he hit the deck in a valley 7,500 miles from home and began to return fire, one enemy bullet found its way into the gap in the body armor near Matt's left collarbone. The round tore a diagonal line through his torso, killing him instantly. It tore a hole in the Ferrara family as well.
Matt's parents struggled to focus on work at the Bay Cities Italian Bakery, which they run with Simone, and spent their time scouring the Internet for information about his death. It's while discussing that search that Mario Ferrara retreats behind his sunglasses. "I basically quit working for a year," he says softly. Andy consumed himself with researching the circumstances of his brother's death — "I wanted to know that he didn't make a mistake," he says — even watching a terrorist recruiting video that appears to show the very ambush in which his brother was killed. "You see men falling down the ridge," he says. "It isn't a nice video."
Linda seemed to "age overnight," as Andy put it, and Andy pondered leaving the academy. He wasn't scared for himself, but he fretted over what it would do to his mother if another one of her boys were to come home draped in a flag.
Then he saw how his mother responded to her grief: She didn't blame fate or the military or the President. She instead started sending care packages to injured American soldiers at Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Germany. She organized volunteers to make fleece blankets for soldiers. Now she sends 200 blankets every other month. Andy remembered why he came to West Point. "Just because my brother died," he says, "doesn't mean I don't have to serve."
On Saturday, cadet Andrew Ferrara turned pro, receiving his diploma, shaking hands with the President and earning the rank of second lieutenant. After he races in Greensboro, and then after he completes his infantry officer training at Fort Benning, Ga., he will report to the 25th Infantry Division at Schofield Barracks, Hawaii. He has requested assignment to the division's 3rd Brigade because they are scheduled to deploy to Afghanistan next year. He is sure to hit the ground running.
As we get ready to honor our service members for Memorial Day, I wanted to take a moment to thank you for continuing to tell their stories. Your blogs pay tribute to them by letting us all know more about their sacrifices, achievements and service on behalf of us all.
Thank you again for the support you have given Brothers at War. I wanted to share with you that Showtime has decided to make the National Television Premiere of Brothers at War at 8 PM on Memorial Day!
This ever greater exposure and viewing of the film means that the accurate portrait of our American Military Families is reaching an ever greater audience. It is my hope that audiences are as inspired by the people I got to know and those I got to know better on my journey into the lives of my two brothers. All of their experiences leave me humbled and deeply appreciative.
For your readers who are not able to watch it on Showtime or would like to own it and see the DVD extras we have set up the keycode “Memorial” for a 20% discount at brothersatwarmovie.com for them.
Thank you again for your support, and I hope you all have wonderful Memorial Day Weekends.
My best,
Jake Rademacher
Tech. Sgt. Israel Del Toro was on fire.
A roadside bomb had exploded under the Humvee that Del Toro was riding in while supporting soldiers with the 173rd Airborne Brigade Combat Team in a remote part of northern Afghanistan.
Flames engulfed his entire body. He jumped out of the truck and made it to a nearby creek with help from an Army lieutenant. Rolling into the water, “I heard the same sound you hear when you stick a hot pan in cold water,” he said.
Since the Dec. 4, 2005, explosion, Del Toro, now 34, has undergone more than 120 surgeries. He’s learned to walk and run with a carbon brace and breathe without a respirator, something his doctors expected would never happen for a man burned over 80 percent of his body.
When you look at him today, nearly five years later, it’s hard to see the old Israel Del Toro. His lips, part of his nose and his eyelids were burned off. He lost both ears. Facial reconstruction is ongoing.
But one thing hasn’t changed: He’s still in the Air Force.
The Air Force, Army, Marine Corps and Navy allow disabled troops to apply for permission to continue on active duty after being found “unfit for duty” by medical boards. It’s not a simple process, and not everyone who is approved to return makes a successful long-term transition.
The services use special evaluation boards made up of medical experts, peers, senior leaders and recruiters to judge each application, military officials said in interviews this spring.
About 200 soldiers, 58 Marines, 33 sailors and six airmen have petitioned for, and won, the ability to continue to serve even though the military has found them unfit for duty.
The Marine Corps has approved all requests from disabled Marines who want to remain on active duty, said Capt. Rob Adams, who heads up the Marine Corps’ disability section. Currently, seven Marines considered 100 percent disabled are serving, including Cpl. Matthew Bradford, who in April became the first blind double amputee to re-enlist in the Marines. Last year, the Army approved 70 percent of those who asked for special permission to “continue on active duty,” according to Army Lt. Col. Kathie S. Clark, a medical policy officer within the Army’s personnel office.
“They are back in the fighting force,” she said in late March. “They are given assignments within the limitations of their (medical) profile. We have some who can deploy and some who can’t.”
Before that day dawned, then-Cpl. Lollino awoke knowing his column of 30 or so armored vehicles would roll through “ambush alley,” an infamous road sandwiched between two mountain ranges and rocky outcroppings, and dotted by trees — terrain tailor-made for insurgents. What he and other GIs on the mission didn’t know was that they were embarking on a 14-hour journey near the Pakistani border that would test Lollino’s vow to bring all his men home alive.
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Part of Lollino’s column had already made it when the first rocket-propelled grenade was fired. Behind the wheel of a Humvee, Lollino drove into ambush alley, began to help the wounded and fired back at the insurgents, dropping two 30-round clips. Three of the wounded soldiers were hit by shrapnel, and a fourth suffered from smoke inhalation.
The enemy fire intensified, and Lollino was hit by shrapnel, too. But he covered one of the wounded with his body. He loaded the wounded in another vehicle as the convoy fought its way out of the ambush.
It was a straight-up gunfight with no close-air support, but the GIs made it to their objective. Lollino, though wounded, stayed with his troops and drove back through ambush alley on the return to their base.
“I just wanted to do my job, fix the guys, make sure no one died. Everybody has a family we all wanted to go back to,” Lollino said when asked what he was thinking.
Then he fell silent.
Starting Memorial Day through July 4, former Marine Mark Dolfini of Lafayette will begin collecting items for wounded U.S. troops.
Each Sunday, he will wear his Marine Corps dress blues and stand outside local retail stores to accept donations for troops recovering at Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Germany.
Dolfini and other members of the local David M. Shoup detachment of the Marine Corps League are urging the public to make donations, including toiletry items and new clothing.
"These guys are shot up and we are just trying to give them comfort items and clothing," said Dolfini, 37.
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"This is the least we can do for these men and women who have given so much," he said of the Soldiers' Angels Germany collection.
Like a Good Neighbor: ‘Red Cloud’ Marines rub elbows with Afghan locals
5/11/2010
By Sgt. Justin J. Shemanski, 1st Marine Logistics Group (FWD)
CAMP LEATHERNECK, Afghanistan — During their latest combat logistics patrol in the region May 7-11, Marines from Combat Logistics Battalion 6, 1st Marine Logistics Group (Forward), were able to spend time getting to know the native population on friendly terms.
The multiple-day resupply mission in support of the 1st Battalion, 2nd Marine Regiment, took the Marines of Bravo Company to several locations in and around Now Zad and Musa Qal’eh. Though these days consisted of long hours and hard work, the Marines were happy to spend some time with the curious groups of locals who gathered around to watch them in action at a few of their stops along their route.
Villagers, including dozens of children, flocked around the Leathernecks as they were eager to voice their wants and needs and discuss security and local issues with the patrol. They also took the opportunity to sell and trade items such as hats, toys, scarves and even food stuffs to include live chickens, turkeys, lambs, bread and vegetables.
The Marines enjoyed the experience perhaps even more than the villagers, as it was a welcome change of pace from day to day operations throughout Helmand province.
Staten Islanders offer heartfelt salute to wounded warriors
By Jeff Harrell
May 14, 2010, 10:48PM
STATEN ISLAND, N.Y. -- It was impossible to miss the wounded war heroes today.
Behind an advance guard of 200 deafening choppers, their motorcade wended its way along Richmond Avenue past the Staten Island Mall, attended by fluttering flags and chants of "America rocks!"
It was a fitting New York City welcome for nine severely wounded veterans who ventured from Walter Reed Hospital in Washington, D.C., to visit the Island as guests of the Tamburri Post, American Veterans (AMVETS).
"It's very exciting. I got goosebumps," said Tamburri Post member Dennis McLoone of Westerleigh.
"I'm just proud, proud, proud of our guys doing a job nobody else would want," proclaimed Kathryn Fixsen of Eltingville. "It makes America what it is."
Well-wishers lined Richmond Avenue in front of the Mall for more than two hours waiting for the heroes' motorcade -- which followed the bikers from the Islanders Motorcycle Club up the New Jersey Turnpike, over the Outerbridge Crossing and along the Korean War Veterans Memorial Parkway before making its way up Richmond to Travis and South avenues.
Then the wounded war heroes enjoyed a well-deserved lunch at the Hilton Garden Inn, Bloomfield.
As passing motorists honked while knots of veterans from the Cespino-Russo Post, American Legion, and a throng of residents waited in front of the Mall for the wounded warriors to pass, flag-waving fourth-graders from PS 29 led those gathered in chanting "America Rocks!" and "We love America!"
Barbara Camporeale, a fourth-grade social studies teacher at the school, said the children will long remember today's homage.
"We wanted to take them to be the welcoming committee for the wounded warriors," Ms. Camporeale said.
Seeing the wounded veterans pass by in vans took on a special meaning for Mary LaManna of Westerleigh, who served during the Vietnam War as a U.S. Army nurse at the Third Field Hospital in Saigon.
"Our wounded heroes," Ms. LaManna said. "Those are the ones that we should be here to honor, to welcome to Staten Island, and show how appreciative we are."
The Assault Breacher Vehicles are the Marines Corps' answer to the deadliest threat facing United States and NATO troops in Afghanistan, thousands of land mines and roadside bombs aka improvised explosive devices, that litter the Afghan Taliban region.
The Breachers are metal monsters that look like a tank with a cannon, carry a 15-foot wide plow supported by metal skis that glide on the dirt, digging a safety lane through the numerous minefields laid by the Taliban.
If there are too many mines, the Breachers can fire rockets carrying high grade C-4 explosive up to 150 yards forward, detonating the hidden bombs at a safe distance so that troops and vehicles can pass through safely.
The detonations, over 1,700 pounds of Mine Clearing Line Charge, send a sheet fire into the air and shock waves rippling through the desert in all directions.
KABUL — Fourteen U.S. service members have received Germany's Gold Cross Medal for their bravery in extracting wounded German soldiers from a firefight in northeast Afghanistan — the first time the award has been given to troops from another nation.
The Americans, all members of the U.S. Army's 12th Combat Aviation Brigade, received the medals — one of Germany's highest awards for valor — on Wednesday at a German base in Kunduz province.
The U.S. crewmen were honored for risking their lives to rescue German soldiers ambushed by more than 200 Taliban fighters during a patrol April 2 near the provincial capital of Kunduz. Eleven German soldiers were critically wounded, and the battle was still active when U.S. Black Hawk evacuation helicopters arrived.
"We came under very heavy fire," said Jason LaCrosse, chief warrant officer three. "We couldn't land at first, but we came back in a second time and loaded two casualties, brought them back to the hospital, then we went back to get more."
Three of the German soldiers died of their wounds.
"We've had a strong partnership with the German soldiers," said Sgt. Antonio Gattis. "These guys are like family to us, so we took it personally when they got injured and just went out there and did what we had to do."
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In addition to LaCrosse and Gattis, the medal recipients were Capt. Robert McDonough, Chief Warrant Officers 3 Steven Husted and Nelson Visaya, Chief Warrant Officers 2 Jason Brown, Sean Johnson and Eric Wells, Staff Sgt. Travis Brown, Sgts. William Ebel and Steven Shumaker, and Spcs. Matthew Baker, Todd Marchese and Gregory Martinez.
“My thought was just for the wounded Soldiers,” after the ceremony a tearful U.S. Army Sgt. Steven Shumaker, crew chief, 5th Bn., 158th Av. Regmt., said. “My own safety wasn’t a concern. Our goal was to get those guys out or die trying.”
COLORADO SPRINGS, Colo., May 11, 2010 – A soldier whose leg was amputated below the knee carried the torch into the Olympic Training Center here yesterday during opening ceremonies for the inaugural Warrior Games.
Army Sgt. Robert Price was the first servicemember to carry the torch before handing it over to representatives from each of the other services. Hall-of-Fame football player, U.S. Naval Academy graduate and Vietnam veteran Roger Staubach completed the short journey and lit the Olympic flame.
Price, who remained in the Army after losing his right leg to a roadside bomb in Iraq, is a cadre member at the warrior transition battalion at Brooke Army Medical Center in San Antonio. He was given the honor because he made sure other soldiers had the opportunity to compete as well.
"Probably other mothers regret having their sons or daughters go to war, especially when they come home hurt. It's not easy seeing your child be in this position. We are so proud of Jay and we thank God every single day that we have him."
- Eva Briseno
A bullet in Baghdad, a son's need, a mother's love
By AP Medical Writer Marilynn Marchione
Sunday May 9, 2010
MANASSAS PARK, Va. – There are mothers who will spend today missing sons and daughters fighting overseas. There are women who have lost children in those wars, for whom Mother's Day will never be the same.
And then there is Eva Briseno.
Joseph Briseno Jr., Eva's 27-year-old son, is one of the most severely wounded soldiers ever to survive. A bullet to the back of his head in a Baghdad marketplace in 2003 left him paralyzed, brain-damaged and blind, but awake and aware of his condition.
Eva takes care of "Jay" in her suburban Virginia home where the family room has been transformed into an intensive care unit, with the breathing machine and tubes he needs to stay alive.
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She sleeps a few hours at a time, when the schedule says it is her turn, often slumped in exhaustion by his side.
She has been out to dinner with her husband, Joseph Sr., once in seven years.
She could have a better life if she put Jay in a nursing home. Or if she went back to using the home health care nurses the government provided. But one looked indifferently without wiping Jay's mouth when he drooled. Others fell asleep on the night shift, inattentive while Jay suffered seizures.
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What keeps Eva going is hope that stem cells or some future treatment advance will help her son.
"I do believe in miracles," she says.
Yet desperation clouds her prayers. "Most of the time I ask God if I can take Jay's place," she confesses, unable to suppress a sob.
Hearing his mother, Jay cries too, the tears silently slipping from his blind eyes.
“I could feel myself starting to die, and I became desperate in my struggle to stay conscious. I started to repeat three names in my head over and over again: My mom, my sister Melissa, and my sister Kendra. For the last 60 seconds of my life, I rapidly repeated these three names in my head. They helped me hold on a little longer and knew I had to fight for them. But the feeling then crept to my chest, and I knew I was done. I calmly said my last thought, took my last breath, and died.”
- Capt. Joshua A. Mantz
A round entered through the left arm of Staff Sgt. Marlon B. Harper, 34, of Baltimore, and exited through his chest, but only after severing his aorta and delivering a mortal wound.
The force and heat of the round caused the bullet to fuse with Sergeant Harper’s body armor. A chunk of bullet and melted armor plate the size of a human fist ricocheted into Captain Mantz’s upper right thigh, severing his femoral artery, another of the deadliest combat wounds possible.
But first the adrenalin of combat kicked in.
“I didn’t know that I was shot,” Captain Mantz said. “I was simply confused and knew that something was wrong. I experienced tunnel vision, as my attention immediately focused on the face of Staff Sergeant Marlon Harper. I looked into his eyes with crystal clarity and watched as his lifeless body fell to the ground. I experienced auditory distortion, in that I could hear nothing except for the muted shot of the sniper round, and hear my own voice call for my medic. I also experienced slow-motion time. I could feel my body absorb the shock of the round as it hit my body. I could feel myself moving backwards.”
Captain Mantz dragged Sergeant Harper out of the way and began to perform first aid on him while calling for assistance. “When my medic arrived, no more than 15 seconds later, I briefly passed out,” Captain Mantz said. “I regained consciousness when my men carried me into the nearest Bradley Fighting Vehicle and drove to FOB Loyalty,” the forward operating base that was their home in Baghdad.
During the 10-minute ride, the medic cinched-up a tourniquet and helped Captain Mantz stay conscious. “But I had to fight for every breath that I took,” Captain Mantz said.
The convoy was met by a team of Army medical personnel who within seconds were administering CPR and electronic defibrillation.
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The medical team working on Captain Mantz did not quit. “I don’t know what possessed the brigade surgeon and his team to continue working on a dead guy for 15 straight minutes – many doctors will ‘call it’ after 6 minutes because that’s usually the point at which brain damage sets in – but they kept going,” Captain Mantz said.
When they restored a faint pulse, Captain Mantz was loaded onto a Black Hawk helicopter for a short flight into the Green Zone and more advanced emergency care. There, the military hospital team went through nearly 30 units of blood during a complicated vascular surgery. Blood was in short supply, and the medical team pulled soldiers into the surgery ward, drawing blood straight from their arms and putting it right into Captain Mantz. (He was ordered to take tests for a year to check for blood infections or disorders from the unprocessed transfusions, and he is fine.)
“Our military surgeons are gods in their profession,” he said. “With the proper resources, they can – and do – bring soldiers back to life against impossible odds.”
When he was stabilized, Captain Mantz was flown first to the larger military hospital at Balad, Iraq, north of Baghdad, and then to the military facility in Landstuhl, Germany, where it was determined that he had suffered no brain damage.
I wasn’t crying because a great man just died in front of me with injuries that would make almost anyone else vomit. I was crying because I was overwhelmed with pride; I was proud to be a part of this outstanding team, doing incredible things, under austere conditions, in a fourth-world country. But mostly I was proud... of the corpsmen.
Now I urge you to watch the PBS documentary called "Who's Helping Our Wounded Vets?" , which tells the stories of three families who have literally sacrificed everything to care for their severely wounded family members.
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The families in the documentary had the option of putting their loved ones into nursing homes which wound have been paid for, but where their condition would have undoubtedly deteriorated. Instead, they have taken it upon themselves to provide qualtiy care to their loved ones - our wounded warriors.
Following on the example of the sacrifices their warriors made for our country, these families are now making their own. It's time for us to step up and provide financial compensation for their work. These families have already given enough.
Medical crews transfer patients out of Afghanistan
Posted 4/28/2010
by 2nd Lt. Daniel Riley, 375th Air Mobility Wing Public Affairs
4/28/2010 - SCOTT AIR FORCE BASE, Ill. -- If it weren't for the roar of the engines on the cramped KC-135 heading into Bagram Airfield, Afghanistan, this flight would have been completely silent.
"I've never seen the plane this full before," said Senior Master Sgt. Chuck Smith, a boom operator for the Mississippi Air National Guard's 153rd Air Refueling Squadron.
The flight had two full Aeromedical Evacuation crews, one Critical Care Air Transport Team and several thousand pounds of equipment associated with each of these crews. This is all in addition to the normal aircrew and equipment aboard the aircraft.
With a few hours left before making the roller-coaster ride landing over the Hindu Kush Mountains and into the valley of Bagram, the medical crews all sat in silent reflection.
Some read books and magazines, but most were resting because as soon as the aircraft landed, their 18-hour work day would begin: unloading gear, loading patients, and working to get them safely to Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Germany.
Aeromedical Evacuation crews performed 19,025 patient movements in 2009, and have evacuated more than 140,000 patients since the beginning of Operation Iraqi Freedom. These crews are all supremely dedicated to their mission of saving the lives of wounded warriors, and they all have an extensive medical background.
"It's amazing the number of years of medical experience we put to each and every one of our patients," said Master Sgt. Terry Starkey, a medical technician with the 10th Expeditionary Aeromedical Evacuation Flight.
Lt. Col. Patricia Fulton said, "I have been doing this for 23 years, taking care of these heroes like they're family is what I'm here to do."
Colonel Fulton is a medical crew director with the 10th EAEF and trauma nurse in Oklahoma in her civilian career.
Many of the men and women aboard these flights are Reservists and Guardsmen, who volunteer their time to deploy and take care of these wounded warriors.
The dedication of these men and women have pushed the survival rate of all wounded to above 98 percent today, said Maj. Ed Schmidt, a Guardsman and nurse with the 10th EAEF.
Multiple factors contribute to this high survival rate, including the amount of time it takes from moment of injury to successful evacuation to Landstuhl--the first stop for most of the evacuated patients. It takes only 12 to 15 hours to get an injured warrior to Landstuhl, he said.
Lt. Col. Shelby Mills said, "The better training, technology and equipment today also lead to a better survival rate."
Colonel Mills is a medical director with the 455th EAEF and a member of Scott's 932nd Airlift Wing.
"The experience of field medics, and the implementation of the Self Aid and Buddy Care program has pushed medical care to the very front lines, and that has helped immensely," she said.
As soon as the plane hit the ground there was a calm urgency as practiced hands re-configured the cargo-bay to accept litters. Soon the ambulances pulled up and volunteers from across the airfield came out to help carry the litters.
"The other day a young Airman who was working the flightline came up and asked if he could help," said Colonel Mills. "He started to help carry litters and equipment, and when all the patients were loaded he said he needed to get back to work and thanked us for allowing him to help. He wasn't assigned to our plane, he just saw us and wanted to lend a hand where he could. Since then he's been a staple around our flights and is always there when we're loading patients."
Sergeant Smith said, "We fly these missions in and out of Bagram, right up to the limit we are allowed to fly in a month, but that month-long limit is filled in a little over one week. These really are great missions, and we just love doing our part in every way we can."
With the patients loaded and secured, the massive C-17 taxied, cut off all of its lights, hammered down the throttle and pulled away from Bagram over the mountains on its way to Germany with its precious cargo.