Photo By Cpl. Colby Brown | Pictured is the area where 3rd Squad, 2nd Platoon, Charlie Company struck an...... read more read more
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GARMSIR DISTRICT, Afghanistan - In late May, an explosion changed the lives of a squad of Marines in Charlie Company, 1st Battalion, 3rd Marines.
The ordeal they hope to never relive strengthened their relationships. This is their account of six hours that will never leave their memory.
On May 25, 3rd Squad, 2nd Platoon, Charlie Company, was returning from a routine patrol when a jarring thud obliterated all semblance of normalcy. An improvised explosive device detonated at the front of their patrol, stirring a cloud of debris. The squad was only 500 meters from their patrol base.
“Right before the strike, I had this weird feeling … and then it happened,” said Navy Petty Officer 3rd Class Antoine White, a corpsman for 3rd Squad. “I saw the explosion, and I heard ‘Doc! Doc! Doc!’”
“Soon as the blast happened, that switch went on,” continued White, a native of Detroit. “That cool, calm, collected corpsman went out the building, and that ready-to-save-a-person’s-life corpsman came into effect. I was alert, and I was ready. I heard my name, and I was prepared [for] whatever was in store.”
Lance Cpl. Leonardo Langit ran from the rear of the patrol and was the first to reach Lance Cpls. Ryan McSweeny and Peter Uncapher, the 3rd Squad infantrymen injured by the blast.
“With an IED hit, [everything] goes black and white,” said Langit, a native of Glendale Heights, Ill., and a machine gunner for 3rd Squad. “You can’t let your anger take control and just start shooting everything, because there is no enemy there that you can see. You can’t let seeing your buddies get hurt get to you. You have to stay focused.”
The squad took cover in a hut more than 10 meters away from the blast zone, set security, and attended to McSweeny; whose legs, body and face were peppered with shrapnel.
Uncapher was initially knocked unconscious, but immediately began assisting White in providing aid to McSweeny when he regained consciousness.
White stopped McSweeny’s bleeding and labeled him an ‘urgent casualty,’ meaning there was the potential for loss of life, limb, or eyesight requiring evacuation within one hour to stand a reasonable chance of survival. With the help of Uncapher and Langit, they removed McSweeny’s flak, kevlar, and uniform to examine his wounds.
The rest of the squad provided security and called for a casualty evacuation. It was the first for 1/3 since the battalion arrived in Garmsir in April.
Just as the situation seemed to be improving, Lance Cpl. Aaron Ferencik, the squad leader, received bad news. The casualty evacuation helicopters couldn’t fly because of a sandstorm. Ferencik’s job instantly became more difficult.
“Whenever I go on a patrol, I think about what I am going to do if someone gets blown up,” he explained. “The sooner I find a way to get a [casualty evacuation], the sooner the guy who got hit can get out of there, to better medical aid.”
Meanwhile, McSweeny fought on. Most of his bleeding was under control, but he still rated his pain as an eight on a scale of 10.White worked to manage McSweeny’s pain, administering a total of 20 milligrams of morphine into his thigh.
Langit then noticed blood coming from Uncapher’s upper chest and treated it with a pressure dressing.
Uncapher, understanding that McSweeny needed urgent care, quickly re-donned his gear. He and White continued to treat McSweeny while waiting for the helicopters to arrive.
“Everything was prepared,” said Langit. “All we had to do was wait for the helicopter to come get McSweeny and Uncapher … but you don’t know what’s coming next.”
Moments later, the squad received more bad news. The sandstorm had intensified, and the helicopters were grounded again.
Once more, the squad looked to Ferencik.
“The thing about being a squad leader is you have to make a decision,” said the Denver native. “Not making is a decision is the difference between life and death, you just have to make a decision and stand by it — even if it’s the wrong one, because [not making one] is the worst thing you could possibly do.”
Ferencik directed his squad to physically carry the wounded Marines to a bazaar half a mile away, where he planned to link up with a Combat Logistics Battalion 7 ground convoy. McSweeny couldn’t walk, so White and Ferencik fireman’s-carried him.
As the day wore on, visibility became a problem, and it became dark. Uncapher, in the gathering gloom, led the way for McSweeny, White and Ferencik. The movement took an hour.
“I wasn’t angry,” said Ferencik. “I was just physically exhausted. It was the hardest thing I have ever done, but I couldn’t put him down. Even when the other guys asked to help, I had to get him out of there and that was the only thing I was focused on.”
As the CLB-7 convoy arrived at the bazaar, McSweeny’s pain was increasing. He was loaded onto a litter and into the vehicle.
Uncapher and White climbed in after him.
Inside the vehicle, White applied an occlusive dressing as McSweeny’s chest injury began to bleed.
The convoy transported them to the Combat Outpost Payne, 15 minutes away. There, Navy Lt. Francisco Cornejo, Charlie Company’s surgeon, assessed and treated the injured Marines. Uncapher’s arm, damaged, but unbroken, was wrapped into a sling. The medical staff applied more bandages to McSweeny’s wounds and splinted his leg.
McSweeny’s breathing became labored swelling developed near his neck, an indication that air was leaking into his chest cavity. This condition is called a tension pneumothorax and is fatal if not expediently treated.
Cornejo and White performed a needle thoracentesis to McSweeney’s left lung, relieving the trapped air. They then hooked him up to oxygen to ease his breathing.
Four hours had passed since the IED strike. The helicopters were still grounded. McSweeney’s condition was deteriorating. The decision was made for a 2nd Light Armored Reconnaissance Battalion ground convoy to transport the wounded Marines to a new location for follow-on medical care.
During transportation, McSweeny’s leg continued to swell. A tourniquet had been lightly applied to restrict the internal bleeding during the movement, but not completely tightened because of uncertainty of a timely air-supported medical evacuation.
McSweeny started to feel numbness in his leg, indicating internal bleeding. White and Cornejo noted the symptom and decided to tighten the tourniquet, ultimately saving McSweeny’s life.
“One decision can alter a person’s life,” White said. “One decision can mean life or death.”
On the movement with 2nd LAR, the convoy got stuck in deep sand and remained stationary for 45 minutes. Just as White was becoming pessimistic, the helicopters arrived.
“When the birds landed, it was like a miracle, because I didn’t know they had taken off,” White said. “And when they landed, I was just relieved, because McSweeny probably would have lost his leg if they didn’t come.”
| Date Taken: | 09.13.2011 |
| Date Posted: | 09.18.2011 13:51 |
| Story ID: | 77218 |
| Location: | GARMSIR DISTRICT, AF |
| Web Views: | 1,368 |
| Downloads: | 1 |
This work, A sandstorm, IED and the squad that overcame, by Cpl Colby Brown, identified by DVIDS, must comply with the restrictions shown on https://www.dvidshub.net/about/copyright.
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