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Part V Of A Diary August 18, 1986 Wounded On My Birthday

(I’m still dictating for my diary and I found another person to write it for me.)

The medic comes back for me and looks at me again. He is through with the other wounded soldier, he has done all he can for his legs, plus the pain killer has started to work for him. He tells me, " Okay soldier let me look at your chest area. Dam, you are one lucky son-of-bitch. You have a bullet that struck you right below your heart. If it would have gone deeper, you wouldn’t be talking brother. Now, I’m going to pull it out, so if you feel something let me know. Are you sure you don’t want something to calm you down?"He pulled it out and there was little pain there, but my arms and face was beginning to hurt. I supposed my body was beginning to wake up from the shock it had recieved. Even my legs were coming back to me as the other two men moved them to see if I had received more serious damage. The medic then said, “Here, I’m going to put this bullet that probably bounced off the hard ground in your hands, but you have to let your weapon go!”I responded, “What weapon? I don’t feel anything, what are you taking about?”Two other soldiers came over to help him try to get the “blup”. It was a term we used for the grenade launcher, out of my hands. However, they couldn’t right then because my hands had cruled the fingers around it like a chicken when it dies. My hands were stiff and they had to prior each and every finger one by one until the weapon was loose. By then, I could hear the helicopter arriving to lift the wounded, only this time I was included.“Can you stand, and walk?” asked the medic.Somehow the concussion and parallization of my bottom torso was going away. They stood me up and wrapped the shirt around my shoulders. Then they strapped my backpack around my neck and said, “You know we can’t walk you over to the chopper, there are still some boobie traps around, and if we carry you, we might loose more men. I know you understand this! Your other friend will have to be carried, so good luck on you trip back soldier.”I walked slowing, not because of the fear of hitting a trap, but because I was feeling very weak. I could see the helicopter hovering above the ground, not wanting to land because of the danger. Once I made it to the opened door of the helicopter I tried lifting my right leg to climb, but I couldn’t without the support of my arms. They were hanging down in a rubbery state, I couldn’t control them at the moment.One of the medics in the helicopter saw me trying to climb in and being unsuccessful so he stuck his hand out and grab me from the back of my neck. He pulled me in as I fell flat on my face and shoulders on the floor of the flying machine. Suddenly my wounds from my shoulders that were covered by the shirt came open and splattered blood on the floor. My face was a mess too and he said, “Oh, I’m sorry soldier, I couldn’t see that you were wounded that bad. Dam, I’m really sorry!”He was very sencere and I knew I needed to bring comfort to his heart because he though he had hurt me badly. I said, “Hey, it’s not as bad as it looks, just clean me up and I’ll be alright.”As he was being careful in accessing my wounds I could here Burkhearts talking. He said, “Are you alright, Oscar, are you hurt bad? Listen, I’m sorry I hit that mine, or whatever I hit. I hope nobody got killed.”I looked at him and just calmly said, “I’m okay, we will both be alright.” I was lieing to him. I could see both of his legs wrapped around tightly and blood seeping through the bandages. I also didn’t tell him about the other soldier that had lost his life. I didn’t have the heart nor the courage to let him know. I knew the guilt would consume him if he felt responsible.Scoofield had lost his life while trying to get up. He only receive a small puncture in the lung on the backside of his body. However, I saw him get up and say, "I’m alright, I’m and then he fell. If only he would have stayed down and waited for the medic he would be alive today. When he stood up the blood somehow got into his lung and literally chocked him to death. It was a terrible scene to see. He was gasping for air and by the time the medic got to him, in my heart I felt sorry for him.They tried to revive him, oh, they tried hard, and then I saw them load him in the other chopper. There was a reason he was not with us, there was some room, but I sensed that they wanted to work with him while in flight and away from our eyes. I stared out from helicopter, I had tears from my eyes, but I didn’t want Burkheart to know what had just happened, his pain killer was still working and there was no need to worry him.I could still remember when he had been brought back into combat, dam them, dam everybody that gave him his orders to return. He only had about a couple of months left of his tour of duty in Viet-Nam. Dam, dam, dam! His wife was having a hard time with the labor of their son. He was in a breach position, and it was thought that his wife and child might die because it was serious enough to get him home .As it turned out, mother and child had made it. He was so happy that he had brought us all cigars. Now he was dead and the news would soon get back home. I had hopes that back in the hospital things could change. Maybe they had kept him alive in the helicopter and I would see him again. I could be wrong, for all I knew, all that I really knew was what I had seen, maybe I had made a mistake, but when we landed my answers quickly were seen by my own eyes.Once we touched ground I was able to get off the chopper and I watched them take Brukheart out as I got out of the way. Schofield had also been unloaded and he was ahead of us. I walked behind them as though nothing was wrong with me. My mind was somber as we walked in to the emergency room.I sad down on a chair and watched what happened next. Schofield laid flat on the bed as they tore his clothes off. They tried to get a heart beat as they pounded on his chest. They massaged his heart, gave him oxygen, mouth to mouth recitation, opened a spot on his chest and stuck something in, but the more they tried, the results did not get better.Meanwhile, Brukheart legs were already wrapped in some bubble wrap or something. They filled them with air after taking his clothes off and cleaning him up. I missed alot of what they were doing to him because my eyes were glued at the other patient. I remember that they rushed him out to x-rays and then surgery.As for Scofield, many attempts were made to save him, but they were fruitless. He died, or was already dead, I don’t know the different, only that a babby boy back in the states will never get to meet his father. And there will also be a griefing wife.I have to stop now, I too am griefing. My eyes are filled with tears, my heart is pounding on my chest, and I need to rest now because I don’t feel well. It’s not my wounds, it’s what I have just described. I’m sorry, I’ll continue with more on my diary when my heart can forgive me from this pain.

Copyright© 2008 Oscarelizondo

Part V Of A Diary August 18, 1986 Wounded On My Birthday


Harlingen, United States

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Artist's Description

This part of the diary was so hard to write. If you are reading this for the first time, please go back to chapters I through V. For those still keeping up with me, I wonder if you want to know more. It gets to you in some way or another, and as I stated before, these experiences are unlike you read before. This is the truth, and if you have doubts, then it is better to stop reading because there is still so much to tell. Drop me a line if you are still there. Thank you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Copyright © 2008 Oscarelizondo

Artwork Comments

  • lisameryl
  • oscarelizondo
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