So a baby now?
Private First Class Carrie Mendez had been feeling shitty all morning. All right, she was sick, enough to go to sick call sick.
VIRTUAL ARMY REALITY BY ELAINE LITTLE 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 19
“Listen up! You are in a convoy on a supply mission. The vehicle in front of you explodes. Casualties are scattered across the area. Your mission: to secure the perimeter, utilize your combat lifesaver skills to diagnose and treat, and prepare the casualties for transport.”
The PA system blared as a group of soldiers formed a semicircle around Master Sergeant Brunson, who was conducting this segment of the pre-mobilization training for Iraq.
Private First Class Carrie Mendez had been feeling shitty all morning. All right, she was sick, enough to go to sick call sick. But her visit was delayed due to this really, really important lanes training, they called it. The lanes being the different areas of training they needed to absorb. Tasks like first aid, reacting to an explosion, and moving under direct fire. She had been moving, avoiding, and engaging simulated danger all morning and she wouldn’t be able to keep it up much longer. A part of her wanted to stick a pin in it. We know we’re going to Iraq, she wanted to tell them. We got it. She wondered if any of the soldiers running the course had ever been in combat or if it was all just role-playing to them. She could be serious in Iraq when the time came but here she was having a problem. Here being Wisconsin.
Brunson retired to the sidelines for a smoke. A different course trainer took over. He set down the course rules in a monotone. “Okay, you will be tested on your skills first by reacting correctly to the situation which would be...” He mouthed the words with the group, many of them reading verbatim from their Army manuals. “Call in the incident to our chain of command and evacuate the casualty sequence.”
“Right, exactly. Call in the type and extent of the injuries. You give the incoming medical team a heads-up on what type of injuries to expect. One of you can get the information while others individually administer to the casualties. Organize and scrutinize. It might be four of you and twenty of them. Which casualty should you call in first?” The question was not rhetorical. There were uncomfortable looks all around until someone hastened the process by supplying an answer.
“You call in all of them, but report the most serious injuries up front. You have to prioritize.”
“Excellent. The best pointer I can give you is treat the quietest ones first. There’s always exceptions. But generally if you’ve got the energy to moan, you’re in better shape. Okay, after the first round of testing, you will rotate. You will be watched for compliance. Nobody who can benefit from first aid better die on your watch or you will have to repeat lane training.”
The soldiers formed an orderly line, taking the pieces of paper encased in plastic document protectors identifying their role.
“All right go! Hurry up, hurry up folks. It looks like rain.” Sure enough there were dark clouds rolling in from the east.
There was a lot of scrambling as the soldiers displaying their signs identifying them as casualties with various injuries staked their claim on a patch of grass, while others tagged as combat lifesavers with big red letters spelling it out on their stuck-on nametags, checked and replenished their first aid kits for supplies.
“Combat lifesavers will be docked points for not having a complete and fully functional medical kit. You should know the steps in treating the various injuries. However, if you do not, the casualty has a cheat sheet that will help you through the steps. On the battlefield, the casualties will not be so helpful.”
Carrie’s sign hung like a huge bib around her neck announcing her as the victim of a SUCKING CHEST WOUND. She spun around with a goofy grin and flashed a thumbs-up with each fist. Someone grabbed a camera and snapped a photo. Fortunately, no-one noticed or cared. Then Carrie flopped down in a dramatic swoon after being specifically directed to lie down, nervously uncrossing and crossing her legs. She was fidgety and couldn’t get comfortable.
“Hey medic, I’ve got a sucking chest wound and a migraine,” she called out.
At this, a course trainer stepped out of the brush and addressed her harshly. “Soldier watch your mouth. This ain’t no joke.”