This picture is of me after a recent rocket attack. When donning the vest, I'm reminded of the movie Dumb & Dumber, when Harry asks the detective, "What if he shot me in the face?" The answer I'd get, if I asked this question, would be the same as in the film: "Well, Mr Petersen, that was a risk we were willing to take." The vests are a bit of a joke, though I guess they're better than nothing.....my flak jacket in the Marines actually surrounded and somewhat protected my torso and neck, unlike these.
Yesterday, one of my Iraqi subcontractors, Abass, showed up to work with a rather prominent limp, which he was, rather unsuccessfully, trying to hide. He appeared to be in so much pain that he was having trouble performing event the most routine of his duties, so I asked him why he was limping. He hesitated, then removed his boot. He had on a partially white sock, and what I saw startled me. The sock, across his toes and front portion of the top of his foot, was discolored with an obvious mixture of blood and puss. I had him remove his sock, and my first thought was that it was the biggest blister I had ever seen. The wound completely covered 3 toes and continued to about an inch past the toes on the top of his foot. I've seen many blisters on the tops of feet in the Marines, and judging by the raw flesh exposed, mixed with the bloody puss, this was my assumption. Knowing the dangers of infection, and the fact that he could barely walk, I walked to my hooch and got my first aid kit. Upon returning with my supplies, I knelt down to begin cleaning his foot.....I should add a note here- it was obvious to me that he had no idea how to properly clean and treat this wound, hence, I was willing to help him out; besides, I had rubber gloves, so I didnt mind. As I was kneeling down in front of him, I was able to study his wound more carefully, and I realized that this indeed was not a giant blister, it was 3rd degree burn. When I inquired as to how he was burned, he either refused to answer or didn't understand how to explain it. At this point, I decided to, once again, break the ridiculous rules set in place by the powers-that-be, and go seek the advice of our on-site medic. The medic, being of sound mind and not easily persuaded by the contemptible rules which prevent us from helping out anyone but Americans who may be in need, insisted that if I kept it between he and I, he would love to go out to the work site and render aid to Abass. The doc (our nickname for any medic) too, was a bit surprised at the extent of the burn. It was relatively deep and oozing a myriad of colors that have never been oozed before, with noticeable infection setting in. But alas, he managed to clean it up, applied the appropriate creams and bandages, and a even offered up a few Motrin for the pain. Being that my arabic is not extensive enough to include medical terminology nor wound-tending instructions, I then walked to the office, logged into Google Translator and printed out instructions, in arabic script, for him to continue care. Yes, my instructions included the importance of immediately getting to a hospital, should the infection get any worse. After all the care was said & done, Abass begged me to not email his boss, or he'd be fired. This, of course, was conveyed via certain words, phrases, and gestures, as he doesn't speak much English. I assured him that it would remain between us. I must say: that I need to sneak around and guard the fact that I'm helping someone in obvious need, infuriates me. There's so much politically correct BS and fear of lawsuits, that I need to walk on eggshells just to give a guy some bandaids? If you're wondering, yes, I could easily be fired for this "offense", just as I could have been terminated for taking the Indians to the Romanian dentist. Where is the logic? Common senes? Where is the idea of basic, human decency? I guess that in contracts of this magnitude, all of that is lost.
Today, however, Abass returned to work and was doing much better. He had applied the creams and bandages and was not limping so profoundly. We got to talking, and it turned out that he was stationed in Fallujah as an Iraqi soldier at the same time that I was at Abu Ghraib prison with the Marines. He was there until 2007, which means he served alongside my brother, who was in Fallujah as a Marine from 2006-07. It's a small world....a very small, hot world.
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Always do the right thing...
Sometimes when we are generous in small, barely detectable ways it can change someone else's life forever. - Margaret Cho
You talked about hunting...this is the best I could do with Marines and hunting...
Two Marines were off on their annual trip to the Canadian wilderness to bag a moose. As the seaplane landed on a lake in a remote area, the pilot said, "I'll be back in one week to pick you up. But only one moose, please."
When he returned to the lake, he found the Marines proudly standing beside two moose. "I told you Marines only one moose!" the furious flier screamed. "There's NO WAY the plane can take off with that much weight!"
"You're just a chicken pilot," one Marine said. "We killed two moose last year and that pilot wasn't afraid to take off."
Stung by the suggestion of cowardice, he reconsidered.
"All right, if you did it last year, I guess we can try it."
They loaded up and the pilot taxied to the far end of the lake to begin his takeoff. The plane bounced across the water as it strained to get airborne, but the overloaded aircraft finally ran out of space and crashed into the trees.
Some time later, the Marines regained consciousness. "Where are we?" one asked.
His friend looked around at the scattered debris, then back at the edge of the lake and replied, "Oh, I guess about a hundred yards farther than last year."
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