FORT DIX - N.J. It was hard to turn away from the grotesque photo. We'd heard the story several times before - an instructor here at Fort Dix bit down on the blasting cap of a claymore mine. Urban legend? A tale one weaves around the campfire to scare young soldiers?
Here was proof projected before us in all its gory glory.
He looked like a primordial squid. His face had been blown open - no nose, no teeth, no chin, no cheeks - just the redness that was his facial muscle exposed. The ends had torn, rippled almost, resembling tentacles. His blue eyes a stark contrast to the broken blood vessels in his eyes peeked from behind the peeled back flesh.
He survived, the instructor at the Fort Dix School of Combat Medicine told us, long enough to commit suicide.
The instructors on the Lanes training gave a little more detail as we practiced laying our claymores. They told us the man was despondent, afraid that no one would ever love the disfigured him.
I fixated on the photo - I wondered why he decided to bite down on the cap that day? Did he think it was a classroom prop? Was he trying to scare his students, make them laugh?
He survived; however, the instructor reminds us again and again that most do not.
Most combat deaths are inevitable; during ground combat up to 90 percent of casualties die before reaching a medical treatment facility.
However, there is some hope. During his classes one of our instructors, Jimmie Woodard, quotes Col. Ron Bellamy, an Army surgeon - "During battle if we could put on a tourniquet and perform needle chest decompressions we can save in between 70 and 90 percent of preventable deaths."
While that simple technique can save 70 to 90 percent of preventable deaths not all deaths are preventable. During the lesson we are told that if we come to a wounded soldier who is not breathing and unresponsive or will not survive their wounds to move on to the next casualty.
They tried to ease our discomfort by assuring us that we have to treat the people who can be saved.
While many wounds; massive trauma, massive head injuries, surgically uncorrectable torso trauma cannot be treated others can like tension pneumothorax and amputation of a limb, or hemorrhaging from an arm or leg.
Many of our instructors, veterans themselves, tell us that 2,500 soldiers died in Viet Nam from wounds to the arm or leg. These Soldiers had no other wounds; they simply bled out.
By learning to apply a tourniquet or perform needle chest decompressions we can reduce battlefield deaths by 70 to 90 percent, said Jimmie Woodard, the lead instructor.
Another important skill we are taught is to insert an 18-gauge IV catheter/needle unit and administer 250 ml of crystalloids.
Let me just put it out there. I hate needles. But I made a commitment to this country and more importantly the people who are serving next to me to learn everything I can that might help save their lives; becoming a Combat Livesaver is part of that commitment. So, I bore down, stuck out my arm, and held my breath.
Master Sgt. Schiff, a former Cavalry Soldier, now Public Affairs, and I team up. Although manly and gruff - he is one of the few people I'd trust in a battle between a sharp object and my skin.
I decide to go first, be stuck first anyway. While he is laying out his gear and checking the IV bag and line - I waffle back and forth - will I watch or won't I?
He feels for a vein before tying the constricting band two inches above the crook in my arm and tells me to pump my fist. A large vein pops up on the outside of the crook.
In a circular motion that gets larger and larger he cleans the inside of my arm with iodine. Then with one long sweeping motion he cleans the insertion site with an alcohol pad. Schiff takes the needle between his thumb and index finger, angles it at 20 degrees before pushing it in - only then do I decide to watch.
I hold my breath, but there is no flash, no blood. He digs in deeper, moves a little left; I gasp and grab the underside of the table with my free hand. My face contorts as I try not to move the arm he is working on. I mouth curse words and suck in breath - finally he finds gold. He pushes the catheter forward and removes the needle. Bright red blood, my blood, runs down my arm on to the table pad. Quickly he inserts the IV connection into the catheter.
He drops the bag below my arm - my blood flows into the IV line. It's a good connection.
The instructor, Marlum Lipsey, decides to improv a lesson while I'm still hocked up. Lipsey tells Schiff to hang the bag upside down to create an air bubble in the line then close the roller clap to stop the air from getting into my veins. Schiff then drops the bag below my arm again then opens the roller clap to allow the blood to push the air back into the IV bag. This technique pushes air out of the line. The line becomes warm as my blood flows into it, down my arm, around my thumb and begins to climb towards the bag. Then he lifts the bag to allow my blood to flow back into my veins with the IV fluid. He then squeezes to bolus the remainder of the fluid in to my arm.
For more information visit - www.cs.amedd.army.mil/clsp/
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