BOND OF BLOOD AND HONOR

To honor both the 240th birthday of the United States Marine Corps and Veterans Day, I'm reposting an entry from 3 years ago. The bond between Marines and their docs is unique in this world. "Docs" in this context can mean physicians or corpsmen; but the shared honor, courage and commitment between hospital corpsman and Marine epitomizes this bond. Just read Flags of Our Fathers and you will get an inkling of what I mean. Or consider this true story:

Two Latino-Americans grew up in the Texas Hill Country, not far from each other. Both entered military service soon after high school. Staff Sergeant Ramirez, USMC, and Hospitalman (HN) Alvarez, USN (not their real names) became  friends when both were assigned to a Marine Corps Logistics unit just prior to Operation Iraqi Freedom (OIF). Staff Sergeant Ramirez was a regular Marine. HN Alvarez was a Navy hospital corpsman assigned as medical support to that Marine unit.

Navy Medicine provides health care to the Marine Corps, which owns no intrinsic medical assets. Navy doctors, dentists, nurses, medical service corps officers, and hospital corpsmen assigned to the Marines wear Marine Corps uniforms, drill and exercise with their Marines, adhere to the same physical standards -- fully integrating into the units they support. The most revered relationship is that of a hospital corpsman to his Marines. Every Marine depends on his doc to save his life or limb.

Which one is the Doc?

In the early days of OIF the two friends traversed southern Iraq, miles behind the initial assault. The unit had stopped for rest and chow. Diving into his MRE, Staff Sergeant Ramirez strolled around the vehicle. A sudden, deafening explosion rocked the area, followed by a primal scream. The young Marine had stepped on a concealed Iraqi land mine. He lay in agony on the sand, blood gushing from the remnant stump of a leg blown away.

"CORPSMAN UP!" Hospitalman Alvarez, as any corpsman would do, rushed to the aid of his fallen comrade, disregarding his own personal safety. As he knelt beside the victim, another explosion scrambled the scene, this time the primal scream coming from HN Alvarez. His knee had detonated another concealed mine, whereupon he became not the rescuer, but the second casualty to lose a leg.

Thanks to the most sophisticated and capable field trauma care in military history, The two friends were medevaced to a nearby emergency resuscitative surgery site. They underwent immediate life-saving operations to control bleeding from their traumatic amputations. Then they were air-lifted out of Iraq to the Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Germany, where they received secondary definitive surgery. Within three days of the initial explosions, the two comrades in arms arrived at the National Naval Medical Center (NNMC) in Bethesda, MD. They were two of the first four OIF casualties received there.

Even though ensconced in a hospital room thousands of miles from the war, both were still in combat -- emotional and physiological. The support they gave to each other in those first few days aided them in that battle -- Marine and doc bonded in blood and honor. Both survived their initial wounds, and ultimately wore state-of-the art-prostheses. If you passed either of them on the street six months after their injuries, you would not recognize him as an amputee.

Once he recovered from his injuries, newly promoted Hospital Corpsman Third Class (HM3) Alvarez elected to stay in the Navy and requested orders to NNMC Bethesda. He wanted to continue caring for wounded Marines.

The year after his knee hit that land mine, he and his spouse (also a corpsman) were honorees at the annual Hospital Corpsmen Ball, ill at ease sitting at a head table with a Navy Medical Corps Captain and his equally uncomfortable spouse.

The HM3 didn't feel particularly worthy of all the honor and attention. He never considered himself a hero. He was just the doc taking care of a wounded Marine.

Similar scenes occurred thousands of times since OIF began in early 2003, and will recur as long as any conflict involves Marines going into harm's way. Their doc will always be with them, ready to do whatever it takes to care for that Marine.

Without doubt, one of life's higher callings.

Semper Fi, Marines

Coming Soon

What if a reclusive, vengeful despot launched a silent yet deadly attack on the world's most powerful navy?

VECTORS is a full-length novel that I will release serially in three novella-length installments. "Phase One -- Index Case" is the first installment. 

Below is the second chapter of the prologue, "Phase Zero - Incubation." (See Chapter One on previous post.) Look for the first e-book novella by Thanksgiving.

Enjoy!

_______________________________________________

Phase Zero

  

Exposure

________________

Chapter 2

Lee Myung Suk gasped when Colonel Hong Dong Jon told her the news. Her cousin dead? Betrayed the state?

“How can this be?” she asked.

Across the table, Colonel Hong’s pockmarked face repulsed Myung Suk. The linear scar running from his left ear to left cheek radiated a vicious red. Myung remained outwardly calm, constraining herself from a violent urge to strangle the bearer of such unexpected, terrible news. But she knew better than to rile the infamous deputy head of the Korean People’s Army’s Special Purpose Operations Reconnaissance Bureau. This man killed at will with impunity, and pleasure.

Hong Dong Jon sneered. His stern voice sounded like gravel pouring through a spout. “Lee Yeong Nae turned against the true Korean people and sabotaged her mission. Your weak cousin lacked the heart or strength to resist capitalist evils. She debauched herself with that American witch and then betrayed the Supreme Leader’s trust by becoming a counter-spy. She killed a loyal KPA comrade and enabled the whore’s escape.”

Lee Myung Suk buried her face in her hands. She and her cousin had grown up together like sisters after the state’s internal security forces hauled off Yeong Nae’s parents and brother to a prison camp. At age ten, Lee Yeong Nae had reported her own parents for Western-leaning tendencies. In reward for her loyalty, she was allowed to live with Lee Myung Suk’s family.

“My cousin proved her loyalty to the state twenty years ago. She could not do what you say. If I may talk to her—”

Colonel Hong frowned. “No one can talk to your treacherous cousin. The American slut pushed her off the rescue helicopter. KPA loyal forces took care of the rest.”

Myung Suk raised up from the chair. “You lie!”

Dong Jon stood over her, and for a second Myung Suk thought he would strike her. He pulled a photo from a file folder on the table and pushed it in front of Myung. “Proof,” he said.

In the photo, a woman in a KPA uniform lay dead in a green field, a bloody body riddled with gunshot wounds. Vacant eyes stared toward the sky. Lee Myung Suk sobbed as she recognized her cousin. The sobs soon turned to rage. She glared at the emotionless colonel. “Tell me more. Tell me everything”

Dong Jon pulled another photo from the folder. It showed the Supreme Leader orating before a crowd assembled in the great square in front of the palace in Pyongyang. Foreign television cameras at one side of the stage meant an international audience. Behind the Supreme Leader stood a woman with cropped blond hair and fair skin, wearing a U.S. Navy olive green flight suit. Hands bound behind her back, her eyes stared straight at the crowd as if to defy the Supreme Leader. Colonel Hong pointed at the photo. “KPA Special Forces captured this pilot after she crashed a U.S. Navy spy plane into the West Sea. She is Lieutenant Commander Janet Squire, but her American co-conspirators call her ‘Cricket.’ I am told that your cousin called her ‘Faith.’ They were lovers.” Dong Jon spat out the last word as if it were bile.

Dong Jon pointed to another figure in the photo, a KPA colonel standing on the other side of the Supreme Leader. “Colonel Chul Boo Ju delivered the American prisoner to the Dear Leader. After denouncing the spy in front of the entire world, the Dear Leader gifted the woman to Comrade Boo as his personal concubine.”

Myung Suk pointed to another figure in the photo. “That’s my cousin.” In the picture, Lee Yeong Nae wore a KPA uniform and stood among a group of officers behind the Supreme Leader and the American prisoner.

“Yes,” Colonel Hong said. “None of us knew the treachery in her heart.” His gaze penetrated to Lee Myung’s soul. “After the speech, Colonel Boo took the American to his private quarters near Prison Camp Eight, where he kept her locked in a bedroom. On the same day that the American Navy bombers destroyed our biological weapons laboratory, Lee Yeong Nae gained entrance to that private room while Colonel Boo was taking pleasure on the whore. Yeong Nae shot Colonel Boo and then escaped with the American to a clearing where a U.S. Navy helicopter picked her up under heavy fire from our soldiers in pursuit. An American F/A-18 Hornet came out of nowhere to fire a missile at our forces, driving them back and allowing the helicopter to take off. As the aircraft lifted, Yeong Nae tried to climb aboard, but the bitch whom she had just rescued kicked her. When she fell to the ground, well you see in the photo what KPA soldiers did to her.”

Lee Myung Suk stared at Colonel Hong. “You say that this American pilot killed my cousin?”

“In essence.” Dong Jon crossed his arms.

Mixed tears of sadness and rage streamed down Myung Suk’s face. Colonel Hong looked at her, dispassionate. There must be more to the conversation. She wiped her eyes and looked at the colonel with a hardened face. “What do you want from me?”

“I have a message for you from Vice Marshal Sung Chunghee. The Supreme Leader bestows on you, Comrade Major Lee Myung Suk of KPA Special Forces, the honor of atoning for Lee Yeong Nae’s treachery. You will be the Supreme Leader’s personal instrument of death to Lieutenant Commander Squire, the despicable U.S. Navy forces and their ROK puppets.”

Suicide mission. Lee Myung Suk did not hesitate to respond. “I express utmost gratitude to the Supreme Leader, and I accept this honor with deep humility. I vow to execute this mission to best of my ability.” She paused and then added, “Even if it means my own glorious death in the service of the true Korean people.”

A trace of a smile crossed Colonel Hong’s face. “Very well. We begin at once to plan.” He pushed the file folder across the table to her. “First you must learn everything about this ‘Cricket’ insect.”

________________

Sneak Peek!

As promised, here's the first chapter of the next FLAGSHIP! Series story. 

VECTORS is a full-length novel that I will release serially in three novella-length installments. "Phase One -- Index Case" is the first installment. 

Below is the prologue, "Phase Zero." Look for another excerpt soon, and the first e-book installment by Thanksgiving.

Enjoy!

_______________________________________________

Phase Zero

  

Exposure

________________

Chapter 1

Pyongyang, Democratic Peoples’ Republic of Korea (DPRK)

“She escaped?” Vice Marshal Sung Chunghee, second in command to the Supreme Leader, advance on General Jin Dongsun, Minister of People’s Security. “If you lie, the Supreme Leader will personally cut out your tongue and feed it to his dogs.”

General Jin stepped back and bowed. His hand hovered over the pistol holstered at his hip, but his superior’s hostile glare caused him to move the hand.  Jin knew better than to threaten the Supreme Leader’s most trusted advisor. In fact, this man stood between Jin and death at the whim of their self-proclaimed “Dear Leader.”

 “Comrade Vice Marshal, I regret it is true. The American pilot escaped.”  He bowed and stepped back again. “Her savage comrades invaded our nation and took her.”

The vice marshal’s face tensed and his eyes narrowed. “Where was Chul Boo Ju when this happened?”

“Colonel Chul is dead, Comrade Vice Marshal. Shot when the American bitch fled.”

The vice marshal’s sudden retort showered spittle over the general’s face. “Shot? How did the slut get a gun?”

Jin squared his stance and rested his hand on the holstered pistol. “The American did not kill Boo Ju. Lee Yeong Nae shot him. She aided the wench’s escape.”

The vice marshal’s complexion waxed purple. He closed on General Jin, eyes and mouth a few centimeters from the man’s face. “Tell me, Comrade General, how one of our most trusted agents shot a revered comrade and helped an American spy to escape.” He closed his own hand over the general’s on the holstered pistol. “Tell me the whole truth in the next minute or I will shoot you with your own gun.” He squeezed the general’s hand. “Or do you prefer I let the Dear Leader decide your fate?”

Jin removed his hand from the pistol. Vice Marshal Sung withdrew the gun from the holster and held it by his side. General Jin’s words came in a rush. “Lee Yeong Nae betrayed the true Korean people and whored herself to the imperialists’ intelligence agency. Wearing the uniform of the Korean People’s Army she infiltrated the camp, killed Comrade Chul Boo Ju and extracted the prisoner. An American Navy helicopter retrieved the fugitive before our soldiers caught up to them. This occurred soon after American jets destroyed our nearby biological lab, so our defense forces were distracted.”

The vice marshal pressed the gun’s muzzle against General Jin’s forehead. “You are dead, Jin Dongsun. But first you tell me whether the traitor Lee Yeong Nae also fled.”

Jin stared into the vice marshal’s eyes, his voice defiant. “Lee Yeong Nae is dead, Comrade Vice Marshal. The fugitive kicked her off the helicopter as it lifted. Then our soldiers demolished the traitor with gunfire.”

“The Supreme Leader does not tolerate failure.” Sung pressed the muzzle hard against the general’s forehead and pulled the trigger, blowing half the man’s head off in a shower of bone and blood and brain.

At the sound of the gunshot, guards rushed into the vice marshal’s office. “Get this carcass out of here,” he said. “And clean up the mess before I return.”

 *  *  *

Thirty minutes later, in a secure location deep in the bowels of the headquarters building, Vice Marshal Sung conferred with a handful of trusted confidantes on the National Defense Commission.

“The Supreme Leader will demand retribution.” Sung gestured toward General Jin’s empty seat. “Our own lives hang by a thread.”

General Woo, Minister of the People’s Armed Forces, spoke. “Our Special Purpose Operations Reconnaissance Bureau may have the solution. In six months, the American imperialists and their ROK bastards will conduct their annual military exercise. That could be the stage where we exact the Supreme Leader’s revenge for the affront to our people by the American spy and her despicable leaders.”

“Tell us.”

“The true Korea will behead the invading American naval force and wreak massive destruction on the puppet ROK. We have a more trusted agent, a cousin of Lee Yeong Nae—”

________________

Transition...Again

Hard to top that last post.

Not the reason that almost three years passed since I wrote it.

A full-time day job, finishing and publishing the FLAGSHIP! Trilogy, and working on the next novel consumed all available time.

With the day job cut to half-time, I now have the freedom to revitalize this aspect of my writing adventure.

I won't belabor the point. Transitions must be brief.

Soon to follow, an excerpt from my upcoming novel, VECTORS.

You Rock, Dad

This photo tells a beautiful yet haunting story.

Servicemen and their daughters hit the dance floor at the San Diego Armed Services YMCA Father and Daughter Dance. More than 450 military fathers attended the 7th annual event, themed "A Night in the Spotlight." U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 1st Class James R. Evans (Released) 130216-N-DR144-466

Military men in uniform dancing with their young daughters would strike a chord in most hearts. This photo certainly did in mine. I haven't stopped thinking about it since I posted it on Facebook a few days ago. 

You can learn much about any military member from the devices and ribbons on the uniform. Here's what we know on closer inspection of the man on the photo's right (whom I've never met): He's a first class hospital corpsman with at least eight years of naval service. He wears warfare devices that validate rigorous formal qualifications in both surface warfare and fleet Marine force. His ribbons indicate that he's deployed overseas and served at sea multiple times in support of the global war on terrorism, that he's an expert with a rifle, and that he's seen combat action. The top ribbon is the most impressive: a Navy and Marine Corps Achievement medal adorned with a gold "V" for valor.

This proud  dance floor dad knows, from personal close experience, the horrors of war. He's put himself into harm's way to serve his country and to bring medical care to sailors and Marines in combat. 

That's just what we know from his uniform. The story runs deeper. What about the little girl in her gorgeous gown and her carefully coiffed brown tresses? How much of her young life has this dad missed, especially when he was in combat and at risk of never seeing her again? Was he present when she was born (many deployed sailors miss the births of their children)? Did he hold her hand on her first day of school? Dry her tears when she fell down, or when other children were mean to her because she was the new kid in the neighborhood? Tell her stories at bedtime? How many days, weeks, months did the two of them think about and yearn for each other when they were apart? 

Personal and family sacrifices are the real cost of war, for service members and their loved ones. You won't find those represented in ribbons and medals. They are burned into the hearts and souls of those who have served, and the families who -- in every real sense -- served with them.

The men and women of the Navy hospital corps are true heroes. Like most military members, they leave it to  the nation's leaders and its people to debate the ultimate value of where they go and what they do. To the best of their ability, they carry out the orders they are given. And they do it to near perfection, regardless of the risk of death or injury, or the cost to their personal lives. 

Corpsmen are especially vulnerable in combat. Enemies target the medics as a means to disrupt and demoralize their adversaries. In the last ten years, more corpsmen have died in combat than any other Navy rate. It's always been that way, in any modern conflict.

May the little girl in the photo, and all others like her,  always remember that night as one of the most special nights of her whole life. May she always know and love and cherish her dad, not only for being a war hero, but  for being the handsome Navy man in uniform who danced with her on one very special night.

And for the dad, may he some day experience a father's ultimate joy and dance with her at her wedding.

Bravo Zulu, and Semper Fi, Shipmate.

"Better to Win a Heart...

...than to pierce it."

Which of these youths is more likely to become a suicide bomber?

Iraqi boy stares at the rubble of his former home after an American strike.

Indonesian child greets U.S. Navy helicopter flying in water and supplies after the 2004 tsunami.

Sometimes, we have to blow things up, and people get hurt -- even innocent people. Then our military medical forces try to put them back together, no matter for which side they fought, or from where they came.

Medical personnel assess an Afghan man on Forward Operating Base Farah,
Afghanistan, Dec. 26, 2012. The soldiers are assigned to the 541st Forward
Surgical Team. (DOD Photo)

U.S. Navy Lt. j.g. Laura Cook performs an ultrasound on a wounded Afghan
policeman to determine the presence of internal injuries on Forward
Operating Base Farah in Afghanistan's Farah province, Dec, 31, 2012. Cook is
a physician assistant for Provincial Reconstruction Team Farah. Medical
personnel assigned to the team, the 541st Forward Surgical Team and
coalition medics treated four members of the Afghan National Police injured
by improvised explosive devices. (DOD Photo)

In ten years of supporting combat forces in the Middle East, military medicine has achieved unprecedented success in saving lives. The reason: Bring world class medical resources and rapid evacuation as close as possible to the point of injury. The result: If you are wounded in action and arrive with a pulse at a forward surgical resuscitation site, your odds of survival are 98% -- unheard of in any other conflict since the world and its wars began.

What if we never had to use that world class capability to patch up victims of warfare? What if we could deploy our medical forces to win the hearts of minds of people before they become our enemies?

We've been doing that too, all around the globe, all military services, all operational platforms. Much of that effort has concentrated on the Western Pacific, a volatile area that our national leadership has designated as the next focus of national defense attention.

Military medicine has been there for decades, extending the hand of peace to a diverse range of people and places -- most notably our response to natural disasters such as the 2004 tsunami that impacted Indonesia, and the recent triple disaster (earthquake, tsunami, nuclear power meltdown) that affected our friends in Japan.

Personnel from the Air Force HARRT (Humanitarian Assistance Rapid Response Team) unloads supplies in relief for the 2009 Indonesian earthquake disaster

Less than a day after they flew into the disaster zone, the Air Force medics were fully operational and treating victims of the disaster

Every year the U.S. Navy deploys one of it's hospital ships on a humanitarian assistance mission, alternating between the Western Pacific and the Caribbean/South America. Staffed with medical expertise from all services, international military medical partners, and non-governmental volunteers, these missions bring world class medical care to people whose lives have not been as fortunate as ours. More important, they bring caring and friendship that endures long after the ship sails away to its next port.

USNS MERCY sails near Southeast Asia in Operation Pacific Partnership

As we begin a new year, the conflicts in the Middle East move into their second decade. Let us earnestly hope and pray that we will begin to see the end of wars, and the emergence of world peace -- and, all around the globe, the faces of happy children.

 -- With thanks to my good friends and colleagues: Bob Kiser, who provided some of these photos; and Doug Anderson, who coined the phrase, "Better to win a heart than to pierce it."