If there was ever a time the team needed another medic, this was it.
As Shurer was running up the hill to reach the wounded, he had no idea what he would be facing. He could tell by Ford’s tone, though, that it was bad.
Now he knew.
First, he glimpsed CK’s body, which was shocking enough. Then his eyes were drawn to Morales and Behr. It was worse than he thought. And he would have to check Rhyner, too, just to be sure he was okay.
With all the injured soldiers, there was a danger that only one medic could be overwhelmed and might run out of supplies. That was a real concern. So here Shurer was, in the middle of a battle, with two down. Another slightly wounded. CK dead.
And he was the lone medic.
As he scanned the area, he knew it would be difficult to move the wounded to a spot where they could be rescued. What happened if someone else was injured? It would be a logistical nightmare. He couldn’t think about that now.
During their training, medics are taught to be on autopilot with trauma victims. You had to stay detached and look at every wound in a “totally objective way: This person needs that. And that one needs this.” Above all, stay focused. Like with the commando who was burned on his thigh and testicle. The soldier was upset, but it was something he was going to have to live with. Get your pants on and get back to work.
Shurer knew a medic had to be cold. That’s because he had to divide the wounded into two groups: those who were going to live with their injuries, and those who were going to die without help. These were the only two categories in battle. And Shurer only had time to focus on those whose wounds were life threatening.
Kneeling by Behr, he noticed there wasn’t a lot of cover. They were protected by a rock wall, but the rest of the area was wide open. He was trying to stay as close to the rock wall as he could, but he could still feel dirt kicking up in his face from rounds hitting close by, and the shock waves of exploding RPGs.
Shurer began examining Behr and assessed that he had been hit twice. The injury to his arm wasn’t serious. It was a glancing wound and trickled blood. He had blood flow to his fingers. A good sign. So he turned his attention to Behr’s pelvis, and that was a different story. It was bleeding profusely. At that point, Shurer began methodically thinking about all the possible scenarios with the wound. Ideally, a human has from five and a half to six liters of blood. The pelvic area is vascular. You would expect that a person was going to lose one or one and half liters right there. Doing the math in his head, Shurer surmised that Behr was already in borderline shock. He wasn’t at the point of total shock.
Not yet.
But he was headed in that direction—and it would be potentially deadly. Shock is a life-threatening medical condition that occurs when the body suffers from insufficient blood flow. It is a medical emergency and can lead to other conditions such as lack of oxygen in the body’s tissues (hypoxia), heart attack, or organ damage. It requires immediate treatment.
With a pelvic wound, there was really no good way of applying adequate pressure on the injury. Shurer knew Behr needed serious attention. So he took off his helmet and set it down to the side. He wanted to examine underneath Behr’s body without moving him too much. He rolled him gently and determined that the downside wound was about the size of a quarter. It wasn’t bleeding much. But the interior wound—the entry point of the bullet—was different. While it was smaller in diameter—the size of a pinkie—it was oozing blood. That was the problem spot.
“My leg doesn’t feel straight,” Behr told him.
“Look, man, you’re going to be okay. Let me take care of this wound first.”
Shurer removed gauze from his kit and began packing it into the topside wound. Then he turned to Carter. “Just keep pressure on this as hard as you can.” Carter nodded and took over while Shurer searched for his morphine. He found the syrette and injected ten milligrams of morphine in Behr to help ease the pain. He knew he had to turn his attention to Morales. But he was worried. They had to get Behr off the mountain or he would die. Shurer turned to Behr. “You’re going to be fine. It’s no big deal.”
But then he lifted his head and screamed at Walton, “We need to get him out of here now!”
Behr reached up and grabbed Shurer’s arm. “So you’re telling him I’m going to die and you’re telling me I’m okay, right?”
Shurer was momentarily caught off guard. Behr was correct: He was in danger of dying. But Shurer had to stay upbeat with his diagnosis. He couldn’t tell Behr the truth, or he might give up. “You’re fine,” the medic said.
But inside he knew it would take a miracle to keep him alive.