Stryker Brigade News

There is one small problem, though. He has until 1 FEB 05 to have his official records photograph taken. Hmm. The uniform might be a little loose (since he's lost about 50 pounds), there's some new decorations to put on (Purple Heart, Army Commendation Medal and some campaign ribbons), and, oh yeah, there's a piece of his skull missing! Come to think of it, that might be cool to have in the file in a weird sort of way. Let's imagine Scott is able to return to duty (in some capacity) and he is under consideration for Sergeant First Class (E-7) one day in the future. Imagine being on the board and seeing that photo come across the desk. You'd have to promote a guy like that, wouldn't you? After a slow whistle and maybe an expletive or two, of course.

On to today. It was cold and breezy and therefore very cold (how does 11 F with the wind chill down to negative numbers sound to you?) in Minneapolis this morning. I arrived at the VA about 9:15 a.m. and went to Scott's room. I wasn't sure if he had walked over from the Fisher House yet or I would have gone over there to assist. Scott and Tiffany later told me they didn't talk to each other on the way over because opening their mouths caused that ice cream on the teeth sensation. Still not much snow, but I'm confident Minnesota will get clobbered right after we depart. Like Louis XIV said, "After me, the storm!" (I can say this in French, which is about all the French I know, but I don't have the ability to put the accents on the words so you'll have to tolerate the English translation here.)

The first thing on the list for today was Physical Therapy. I went there after checking on the reporting date for Walter Reed (still no arrival date, but the procedure appears to be: Check in with Neurosurgery then a date for the cranioplasty is set). Scott was doing the usual stretches before going to the treadmill. Scott was on his own here (no need for close therapist supervision) and set the incline to what looked like 20 degrees for most of the ten minutes he was on. After the walk, he went to the weight machine. As Scott was pushing weights in the same quantities as previously reported, I discussed the possibility of getting some kind of guest membership at a gym in Escondido for the two weeks or so he would be there. The therapist thought that would be easy to arrange and very good for him.

Occupational Therapy consisted of various holiday-related tasks. Scott set a table (clean bed sheet on the table), arranged cookies on a plate, cut out and pasted up decorations. Scott's new roommate, a Marine also named Scott (I've lost count of which ironic event we're on now), came in while Scott was completing these tasks. The Marine Scott seemed pretty squared away ("Marine Condition One," I must say) and was able to discuss the incident which brought him here. It seems something happened to some Marines in a place somewhere in Iraq. Fortunately for this young combat leader (He had taken over his team the previous day), he appears to be on the mend and should be able to return to his unit about the time something happens to them. True to the leadership skills he demonstrated under fire, his concern was for the welfare of his men and if his actions led to this something happening. He was relieved to learn from another Marine he met at Bethesda (to whom something happened someplace else sometime later) that the incident was in no way his fault. It was an honor to meet him and I wished him a speedy recovery and return to someplace. We need men like him wherever that is.

Rant begins:
Didn't that sound silly? Someone, someplace, sometime?

I served with the Second Infantry Division in Korea and Scott was serving with the Second in Iraq when he was wounded. His dress uniform has the same patch on it that I wore then. We know that Marines served with the Second Infantry Division in World War I and did so with great distinction. We have the deepest respect (all friendly bantering and "busting of chops" aside) for the history and sacrifice of the United States Marine Corps. With that in mind...

Note to the Commandant: Your Marines are fighting and struggling heroically in a hostile land. Telling us a Marine was killed within a particular province in Iraq prevents us from honoring that Marine's efforts and leaves the loved ones with questions that will never be (officially) answered. Telling us a Marine somehow died someplace in Iraq dishonors the dead. It sounds too much like, "Oh yeah, we lost some guys today. My bad." The enemy knows how they died because the enemy saw them die. The enemy watched our medics struggle (possibly under fire themselves) to save those lives. I'm all for Operational Security (OpSec), but the enemy knows what works because they keep doing it. If what they were doing didn't kill anybody, they'd be doing something else. Please, Sir. At least let the families know, if you can't let the rest of us in on the "secret."

Imagine if this was done in World War II? "Seven Marines were killed someplace in the Pacific Ocean today." No one would have stood for that. We had newsreel footage of the combat in World War II, Korea and Vietnam. And now, we can't know?

If you won't tell us how they died today, tell us someone is keeping track of all this sacrifice so we can properly honor it some day. If a particular Marine is to be considered part of an immortal Marine Corps (in that the Marine Corps will go on forever), that Marine's deeds must be a part of the history of the Corps. To do otherwise is to throw away that Marine's sacrifice for the Corps, the history created by that Marine for the Corps and the story of how that Marine honored the finest traditions of the Corps. How will future recruits know how to be Marines if they do not have these examples to inspire them?

End of rant

During lunch, Dr. Champagne came by to see the Scotts. She said the body X-rays she ordered (to find out conclusively where little bits of metal might be lurking) would likely not be done before Scott (ours) departed. Unless he wanted to wait another week. Uh, no thanks, Doc.

The afternoon's only event was a trip to the Psychology Department. We thought it was for some more neuropsychology work or perhaps to go over the results of the previous testing. Instead, we met with the supervisor of the evaluator to go over some background information. Tiffany and I were on hand to answer any questions Scott was unable to answer. This was seldom necessary as he did a pretty good job. He sometimes couldn't get the word out or got a little tongue-tied in the process of saying the word.

This reminds me of a conversation I had with Julie while my face and tongue were having trouble working in the wind chill while waiting for the shuttle bus this evening. If some of Scott's difficulty speaking is the result of motor problems with his tongue and the right side of his speech "areas," and if cranioplasty causes or facilitates the recovery of motor function, this may be the reason it appears that cranioplasty results in alleviating speech problems. The aphasia remains, but the motor function returns making speech appear better. Hmm. Well, we'll have to wait and see, won't we?

As the interview was concluding, Scott scratched his thumbnail near the nailbed. He said, "Hey, this is metal." We all looked and noticed a piece of metal breaking through the surface of the nail. There has been a bruise under the nail since we first saw him at Walter Reed. I thought there was something metallic jammed under his nail, but it seemed unlikely to me that something would have been left there with all the medical attention he was given. Well, it looks like there really was something jammed in there.

After the interview concluded, we went back to Scott's room. I began to pack up as I made arrangements to meet Julie at the Mall for dinner. Tiffany and I looked at the thumbnail again and were satisfied with the conclusion that some shard was working its way out. I notified Dr. Champagne on my way out just so she would be aware of it. She said she didn't want to have this be a problem while Scott was home for the holidays, but I told her we could take him someplace if a problem arose.

I left the hospital after this and took the light rail to the Mall of America. I had the idea that Julie and I could eat there and get back to the hotel in an hour or so. I was hoping to avoid a ham sandwich for dinner, but ended up watching shopping behavior for several hours. Important note: Next time, go for the ham sandwich. (By the way, Julie says, "You're not winning any points here!")

ST