My first Medic Call

So what shall I tell you next about my BCT experience?

Shall I tell you about how I got blisters on the back of my heels that got so bad you could actually see the tendons? Shall I tell you about the day we did Victory Tower and DS Comic dubbed me an Oompa-Loompa for the day? OOOHH . . . I know: the day I got my first call as a Medic! (aka: the day from hell!!) Yup, I actually got called in to be a Medic before I even got trained as one. It's a long story actually but I'll try and keep it manageable . . .

It started at about mid-afternoon. DS Bipolar came storming out of her office, screaming (as usual!) "Where d'hell my clipboard at? Who d'hell stole my damn clipboard!" Yup, this crazy woman started from the assumption that her clipboard couldn't have been misplaced. It was obvious that one of us had stolen the cheap piece of pressed cardboard in order to sell it on the black market and ensure the future financial stability of our families. When no one came forward to admit to the theft, she decided that a prolonged smoke session was in order. We spent the next two hours pushing. Finally, soaked and exhausted, she let us stop. "Y'all got till tomorrow morning! If I don't get my clipboard back by then, we'll do this all damn day!" We figured that was inevitable, so we were sorta resigned to another day of misery, ya' know? We had no idea the night was going to get FAR worse than we could imagine. DS Bipolar pointed out that she was on duty all night and that she wouldn't put up with "non of our bullcrap!" while she was in charge. In particular, she pointed out that we were REQUIRED to sleep under our blankets at night (most of us slept on top so we didn't have to remake the bed each day) and that she'd be coming through to check and she'd better not find anybody on top of their covers. Well, you can just imagine what happened, can't ya? One of my battles was laying on the bed, writing a letter (after lights out, using a flashlight) and fell asleep . . .ON TOP of the blankets! Well, DS Bipolar came into the bay at about 2300 and lost her friggin' mind. She flipped on the lights, screaming for all of us to: "Get d'hell up!" (that's pronounced; DEE-HELL, BTW.) She put us in the front-leaning-rest and screamed at us for five minutes while we pushed. No big thing so far, right? This is typical BCT treatment and one of my battles had earned us the smoke session, so no biggie. That was about to change though.

Into the bay came DS Smiley (he was actually a pleasant, cheerful guy!), the senior DS for the entire Company. He was chuckling at us as he wandered around the room, then he came to a sudden halt directly across from where I was pushing, a look of shock on his face. "Hey, DS Bipolar, is there someone still laying in that bunk?" Everybody looked and yup . . . there was someone still curled up under their blankets, hiding. DS Bipolar went through the ceiling, cursing and spitting as she closed on the bunk. (It was one of the few times I ever heard her use language harder than damn, hell, or bullcrap.)

We were busy pushing so it was hard to see anything so when she pulled back the blankets and asked the Private: "What d'hell are you doing under the covers with dat sock on your hand?", well . . . we all bust out laughing. Hey, we're guys, as far as we were concerned there was only one possible reason to have a sock on your hand in bed! Even DS Smiley was laughing but that died quickly when he got closer to the bunk. The Private wasn't spanking the monkey: he'd actually tied a sock around his wrist to try and hide the fact that he'd been attempting to slash his wrists when DS Bipolar came in (he'd broken open one a disposable razor and was sawing at his wrist with one of the tiny blades.) Well, the DS's went into action, holding him down, taking away the blade and using DS Bipolar's cell phone to call the MP's and 911 to get the base's EMT's out there. This took about 45 minutes, during which we were kept pushing by DS Bipolar. Once the MP's had taken PFC Crazy out of the bay (DS Smiley went with them) she turned on us and started screaming about how we'd embarrassed her in front of her superior. She was pissed because none of us had known what Crazy was doing and she started smoking us worse that we'd EVER been smoked! This went on for about another 1/2 hour when all of a sudden, there was this unbelievably loud CRACK! sound from behind me. Private Natti's (not his name, but he was from Cincinnati) hand had slipped on the puddle of sweat he was pushing in and his head had smacked into the concrete floor.

"What d'hell was that? Dat you Natti? Get yo' ass up here! Don't gimme none of that; 'I hurt myself' bullcrap neither! Get up front here and push until I tell you to stop!" Natti staggered and weaved his way up in front of her and just sort of stood there, looking confused. "What d'hell? Are you coo-coo for cocoa puffs or somethin'? I said PUSH, you!" Natti nodded and got into position. He got out three push ups before he went into convulsions. He bit off a huge chunk of his tongue and was spraying blood everywhere. DS Bipolar had no clue how to handle it (did I mention she was incompetent?) She started yelling: "We need a medic! Who's a medic? Coppinger, get yo' ass up here!"

Really? Me? I'm going to TRAIN to be a medic, lady . . . I ain't one yet! What was the alternative though? The kid was convulsing and bleeding like crazy. I ran forward with another recruit who had some physical therapy training and we did what we could. I told DS Bipolar (who stood there staring at us!) to call 911 again and we took our best guess at what to do for the kid. I stabilized his neck and we rolled him to one side so he wouldn't choke on his own blood. Beyond that, we let him convulse, just trying to keep him from hitting anything that would injure him. I kept close to his head, talking to him and telling him that we were there and help was on the way . . . I had no idea what else to do for him. (Now that I've gotten a bit more training . . . I actually did what most EMT's would do. Funny how much of it is just common sense!) By the time the EMT's showed up, I had blood all over my clothes and was sitting in a three foot wide puddle of it. Natti was beginning to come around; I'd gotten him to tell me where he was and what his name was, but he was still pretty confused. The EMT's loaded him up on a stretcher and took him out. When I looked up, DS Smiley was standing in the door, looking at the scene with a classic "WTF?" expression on his face.

In a normal world, I'd get a "good job" or something of the sort for helping out but this being the Army, DS Bipolar decided that screaming at me for the bloody mess on her floor was the proper course of action. I stood there wondering -for neither the first nor the last time- what the fuck I'd been thinking when I joined the Army??? At that moment, DS Bipolar noticed the two soldiers behind me who had reached their limit and were crying. Well, THAT was just what she wanted to see! She went off on another screaming tirade: "What d'hell you gonna do when you buddy get blown to hell in war? You gonna stand there and cry?" She dropped us all again and we resumed pushing as she told us all we were worthless, useless, cowards. One of the crying kids gave up and just curled into a fetal position on the floor, sobbing. She went after him like a shark smelling blood but that's when DS Smiley (who was NOT smiling!) charged into the room.

"Enough! that's enough of this shit, DS! Put these soldiers back in their beds. NOW! I want this place cleaned up and you down in my office immediately!"

DS Bipolar was furious, but he was her superior. She stormed out of the room and told me to finish cleaning up the blood. Once she was out, DS Smiley told me to stop and called out two other soldiers to get mops and clean it up. "Go clean yourself off, soldier. You did enough here tonight." He smiled and nodded at me and for one moment I had the answer as to: WTF I'd joined the Army for. We never caught any more crap over the clipboard (which she found in her office the next day) sleeping on top of the blankets (DS Bipolar was never allowed into our bay when she had night duty ever again) or about Natti's going down (he returned two days later with a "clean" bill of health. The Dr. said it was "muscle spasms". Bullshit!) The only result of the night was that we had to have two of us sit suicide watch by PFC Crazy's bed all night for the next two weeks until they sent him off to the mental hospital. In fact, the only time that night was ever mentioned again (by cadre) was the night before we graduated BCT, by DS Smiley. He was the duty DS that night and he sat in the bay talking with us for a good two hours. He had a LOT to say about that night, DS Bipolar's behavior, and his general opinion of her as a DS and a person . . . none of which were flattering.

So there you have it, folks: my very first call as a medic! My second would come about two weeks later, still untrained, & still in BCT . . . but that's another story.

Later!