I'm ok
> Dear Mom and Dad,
> I don't even know where to begin. I should start I guess by saying
> that I'm alright, and sorry I didn't write last night. Any time we take
> casualties there is an immediate commo blackout, and we are cut off. This
> is so the families of those soldiers can be notified by the army, instead
of
> hearing it through the grape vine. I'm surprised that we're back on this
> soon.
> I've thought about what to tell you when I wrote, because I didn't
want
> to put a damper on your Christmas spirits. But you've got to know this,
> I've got to tell you about it, if not for you than for me. I was there
> yesterday when the explosion happened. We were eating lunch, luckily on
the
> other end of the chow hall. We were in the middle of a conversation, we
> were all having a good laugh, and then it happened. Out of nowhere,
without
> warning. We recieve mortar rounds almost daily at FOB Patriot, but this
was
> a totally different beast. Whatever it was, it was bigger than what we
are
> used to, and you know about the severity. Our first reaction was to get
the
> hell out of there, as mortar rounds usually come in several at a time(at
the
> time that was all we figured it was) We had our Strykers parked just
> outside, so we all consolidated there. Then we grabbed the litters off
the
> tops, and our CLS bags, and went back inside. I can't even put into words
> what it was like in there, I've never been so horrified in my life. Since
> we've been here we've seen dozens of dead bodies, we've had to haul them
off
> the battlefields and identify them several times. But its never been
> American soldiers, our own people. And Dad let me assure you, what you
> heard about it being mostly Iraqi people is not accurate. There were a
few,
> but these were American soldiers, our people, who never even knew what hit
> them. You would've been damn proud of us, our entire platoon was running
in
> to help, when most people were running out. I don't know if you remember
> when I told you about the combat lifesaver course they were making me
take,
> but I never really expected to have to use those skills. It was the
hardest
> thing I've ever had to do, it was the hardest thing for all of us. There
> were people who were alive, but had no chance of making it. There was
> nothing we could do for most of these people, but try to comfort them.
But
> what can you say to someone you don't even know, who is about to die? I
so
> wish I could've come up with something to say, but I was just speechless.
> I've come up with so many things now that its over, things that would've
> been so appropriate, so helpful. But it just wasn't there when I needed
it.
> I felt so powerless and useless. There were those that we were able to
> save though, although I'll never know their outcome. The worst part of
the
> whole thing was after we had evacuated the wounded, we had to collect all
> the dead. I swear it was as if the bodies just kept multiplying. Every
> time we would load one on a litter, there would be another two somewhere
> else. We didn't have enough litters for everyone. I'm sure you can
imagine
> the carnage, so I'll spare the details about that...as a matter of fact,
> that wasn't the bad part of it. Like I said we have been around this
> already, but the part that broke my heart was that these were Americans.
> And these aren't infantry soldiers, they didn't die on the battlefield.
> Most of these people were rear echelon support soldiers, who never even
> leave the FOB. They were in a place where they felt safe, they were
> comfortable, and they never knew what happened to them. There were women
> laying there on the floor. It just wasn't the way war is supposed to be.
> And the women, if you could've seen the women. The ones who were alive
were
> just frozen, screaming crying, uncontrollably. There was one standing
right
> above another soldier who had been almost decapitated, and she was just
> lost. I grabbed her by the arm and told her she had to get out of there,
> and she looked at me like she was just lost. Then when she looked at my
> hand and saw the blood that was now on her, she went crazy, and ran out of
> the chow hall. Senior NCOs and officers were lost too. You saw buck
> privates and lower enlisted taking control of field grade officers.
People
> just didn't know what to do. But you can't help but be proud of our guys,
> we just executed like we were the medics. It was an experience that we
will
> never forget.
> Now that its over and we've all talked about it, you can't help but
> have regrets. I think it would be like that regardless of what happens,
but
> there are just so many things I wish I wouldve done, or said to those in
> need. Our platoon medic, Doc Posey was like nothing I had ever seen. My
> heart was pounding, my hands were shaking, I could barely apply field
> dressings. This guy was cool and under control. I've seen this guy under
> the gun before, and he has never disappointed. But I've never been so
> inspired by someone in my life. He knew just what to do, and was telling
us
> what to do with four or five bodies around him. It was incredible. I
think
> he saved a lot of lives in there. But after the fact he has been a
nervous
> wreck, and has the most regrets out of any of us. But there's only so
much
> he could do.
> I know that I'm going on and on, but there is so much I haven't told
> you, things you should all know. Things every American should have to
see,
> not to scare them, but so they know the gravity of things here, that
behind
> every number on CNN is an American body. Sons and daughters, brothers or
> sisters. And I know you realize that, and I'm not trying to preach. But
> its the one reason I opted to tell you about it as opposed to just
waiting.
> I want you to think about these people, and their families. I want you to
> think of them when you're at Christmas dinner, and realize that somewhere
> there are families that are one less this year, because some fanatic
wanted
> to attack a dining facility. I want you to pray for them, and I want you
to
> realize the price they have paid. These are our people and they are dead
> now because they wanted to get the seats next to the TVs.
> There have been a lot of things that I have seen since I've been here
> that I wish I wouldn't have. But living through that attack yesterday has
> shown me, shown all of us, a different perspective on things. And it
should
> you too. It should everyone, but there are those who just won't ever
> understand. You won't ever understand. I could never make you. The one
> thing I do want you to know is that I love you both very much. I love you
> all, and I want you to pass that message on to everyone when you see them
on
> Christmas. Let them know that I would give anything to be at home with
> them, safe and enjoying the holidays. Please do this for me. And know
that
> I'm thinking of you all every day, all day. I love you so much.
>
> Your son,
>
> Adam
> Dear Mom and Dad,
> I don't even know where to begin. I should start I guess by saying
> that I'm alright, and sorry I didn't write last night. Any time we take
> casualties there is an immediate commo blackout, and we are cut off. This
> is so the families of those soldiers can be notified by the army, instead
of
> hearing it through the grape vine. I'm surprised that we're back on this
> soon.
> I've thought about what to tell you when I wrote, because I didn't
want
> to put a damper on your Christmas spirits. But you've got to know this,
> I've got to tell you about it, if not for you than for me. I was there
> yesterday when the explosion happened. We were eating lunch, luckily on
the
> other end of the chow hall. We were in the middle of a conversation, we
> were all having a good laugh, and then it happened. Out of nowhere,
without
> warning. We recieve mortar rounds almost daily at FOB Patriot, but this
was
> a totally different beast. Whatever it was, it was bigger than what we
are
> used to, and you know about the severity. Our first reaction was to get
the
> hell out of there, as mortar rounds usually come in several at a time(at
the
> time that was all we figured it was) We had our Strykers parked just
> outside, so we all consolidated there. Then we grabbed the litters off
the
> tops, and our CLS bags, and went back inside. I can't even put into words
> what it was like in there, I've never been so horrified in my life. Since
> we've been here we've seen dozens of dead bodies, we've had to haul them
off
> the battlefields and identify them several times. But its never been
> American soldiers, our own people. And Dad let me assure you, what you
> heard about it being mostly Iraqi people is not accurate. There were a
few,
> but these were American soldiers, our people, who never even knew what hit
> them. You would've been damn proud of us, our entire platoon was running
in
> to help, when most people were running out. I don't know if you remember
> when I told you about the combat lifesaver course they were making me
take,
> but I never really expected to have to use those skills. It was the
hardest
> thing I've ever had to do, it was the hardest thing for all of us. There
> were people who were alive, but had no chance of making it. There was
> nothing we could do for most of these people, but try to comfort them.
But
> what can you say to someone you don't even know, who is about to die? I
so
> wish I could've come up with something to say, but I was just speechless.
> I've come up with so many things now that its over, things that would've
> been so appropriate, so helpful. But it just wasn't there when I needed
it.
> I felt so powerless and useless. There were those that we were able to
> save though, although I'll never know their outcome. The worst part of
the
> whole thing was after we had evacuated the wounded, we had to collect all
> the dead. I swear it was as if the bodies just kept multiplying. Every
> time we would load one on a litter, there would be another two somewhere
> else. We didn't have enough litters for everyone. I'm sure you can
imagine
> the carnage, so I'll spare the details about that...as a matter of fact,
> that wasn't the bad part of it. Like I said we have been around this
> already, but the part that broke my heart was that these were Americans.
> And these aren't infantry soldiers, they didn't die on the battlefield.
> Most of these people were rear echelon support soldiers, who never even
> leave the FOB. They were in a place where they felt safe, they were
> comfortable, and they never knew what happened to them. There were women
> laying there on the floor. It just wasn't the way war is supposed to be.
> And the women, if you could've seen the women. The ones who were alive
were
> just frozen, screaming crying, uncontrollably. There was one standing
right
> above another soldier who had been almost decapitated, and she was just
> lost. I grabbed her by the arm and told her she had to get out of there,
> and she looked at me like she was just lost. Then when she looked at my
> hand and saw the blood that was now on her, she went crazy, and ran out of
> the chow hall. Senior NCOs and officers were lost too. You saw buck
> privates and lower enlisted taking control of field grade officers.
People
> just didn't know what to do. But you can't help but be proud of our guys,
> we just executed like we were the medics. It was an experience that we
will
> never forget.
> Now that its over and we've all talked about it, you can't help but
> have regrets. I think it would be like that regardless of what happens,
but
> there are just so many things I wish I wouldve done, or said to those in
> need. Our platoon medic, Doc Posey was like nothing I had ever seen. My
> heart was pounding, my hands were shaking, I could barely apply field
> dressings. This guy was cool and under control. I've seen this guy under
> the gun before, and he has never disappointed. But I've never been so
> inspired by someone in my life. He knew just what to do, and was telling
us
> what to do with four or five bodies around him. It was incredible. I
think
> he saved a lot of lives in there. But after the fact he has been a
nervous
> wreck, and has the most regrets out of any of us. But there's only so
much
> he could do.
> I know that I'm going on and on, but there is so much I haven't told
> you, things you should all know. Things every American should have to
see,
> not to scare them, but so they know the gravity of things here, that
behind
> every number on CNN is an American body. Sons and daughters, brothers or
> sisters. And I know you realize that, and I'm not trying to preach. But
> its the one reason I opted to tell you about it as opposed to just
waiting.
> I want you to think about these people, and their families. I want you to
> think of them when you're at Christmas dinner, and realize that somewhere
> there are families that are one less this year, because some fanatic
wanted
> to attack a dining facility. I want you to pray for them, and I want you
to
> realize the price they have paid. These are our people and they are dead
> now because they wanted to get the seats next to the TVs.
> There have been a lot of things that I have seen since I've been here
> that I wish I wouldn't have. But living through that attack yesterday has
> shown me, shown all of us, a different perspective on things. And it
should
> you too. It should everyone, but there are those who just won't ever
> understand. You won't ever understand. I could never make you. The one
> thing I do want you to know is that I love you both very much. I love you
> all, and I want you to pass that message on to everyone when you see them
on
> Christmas. Let them know that I would give anything to be at home with
> them, safe and enjoying the holidays. Please do this for me. And know
that
> I'm thinking of you all every day, all day. I love you so much.
>
> Your son,
>
> Adam
