S M Boney IV - COMBAT MEDIC: A Soldiers Story of the Iraq War and PTSD

Contents

COMBAT MEDIC:

A soldiers story of the Iraq war and PTSD

By: S. M. Boney IV

2016 S.M. Boney IV.

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission contact:

Bone6699@icloud.com

Edited by Julie Boney Special thanks to H.J Harry

TO ALEAH AND JESSICA:

Thank you for being the shining stars that keep guiding me through the darkness in my life. Im blessed to be loved by you.

Warning: the language and actions that take place in this book may come across as offensive to some. It is not my intention to offend anyone; Ive written everything from memory to help you understand what its like to be a combat medic in the Army at war. Nothing about it is pretty.

Prelude

Slamming the door, I locked it and rested my head against the wood frame, trying to regain my thoughts. Youre homeyoure safe.

Sunlight is beaming in through the blinds, making it hard to see. Leaning against the marble counter in the kitchen, I set my keys down before wiping the sweat that wasnt there from my brow. I wondered, Does it ever stop? My angst was making me feel cold. Noit never will. I stared at the floor. What if I was dead? Would anybody really care? I wouldnt have to deal with this pain anymore. The thoughts; the nightmares

My lower back throbbed. I pushed myself up on my hands, thrusting my hips back and forth, waiting for the pain to go away. I closed my eyes, put my head down, and started taking deep breaths, trying to calm down.

Standing up I grabbed a glass of water when a loud bang shook the room. My heart started racing; a chill ran through my body. The hearing in my right ear fell out, leaving a high-pitched ringing in the background. My heart jumped then started beating faster. I closed my eyes and saw flashing lights and heard gunfire echoes and bangs.

I squatted to the ground behind the counter with my eyes wide open staring at the door. A chill ran through my back, into my heart. My jaw started shaking; teeth chattering like I was stark naked in a blizzard.

Someone kicked down the door dressed in battered, torn clothes with dirty rags covering his face. He ran towards me with an AK-47 rifle pointed at my face, shouting gibberish. I felt a rifle in my hand, the weight of the barrel upon my fingers; but it wasnt there. I felt naked without a weapon, cold and unsafe.

My heart felt like it was being pulled in four different directions. It thumped, pumping me full of cold blood and adrenaline. My mind raced. What should I do? I smelled gunfire and smoke, but I could see that I was in my apartment. Is this real? The back of my throat was sore; there was a bad, acidic taste in my mouth.

I took in a couple of shallow breaths then jumped up and ran over to the kitchen. I grabbed the handle of my 8-inch chef knife and pulled it from the drawer figuring it would be better to have a weapon in case it wasnt my imagination. I turned toward the door crouched down, waiting for anything that came through.

A minute slowly passed. This isnt real. I thought out loud, What am I doing? This is crazy. At that moment excruciating pain shot from my mid-back down to my left foot. It was like someone had sliced my back in half with a searing hot knife. I tried taking a deep breath in, but stopped short when pain wrapped around my lung.

I dropped the knife. Feeling dizzy and nauseated, I slowly walked over to the bathroom, flipped the light on, and stood over the toilet, holding my stomach and head. I was sweating hard now. The room started spinning as an overwhelming smell of gunpowder filled it.

Images from war started shooting through my mind. In one, I was holding pressure on a wound, trying to stop the bleeding from a severed leg. In another, blood was splattered all over a sand-covered ground. Specialist B pointed to the blood, then over to a building. I raised my weapon as we went in for the kill. The last image was of eyes. A pair of glazed over, hauntingly sky blue eyes. They were staring directly into mine. I stared blankly into the toilet, engulfed in those eyes. The sight of death captivated me. I wanted it; it wanted me. It almost had me.

My focus shifted from his eyes to his head. I started to see blood running down his face as it came into focus. A green aid bandage was wrapped around it, attempting to hold his severed skull together. I looked down and saw blood covering my hands. I knew it wasnt really there, but it all felt so real.

At that moment I felt numb, emptiness grew inside; my chest slowly became cold. Icy blood pumped through my veins. It felt like I was dying; like life was being drained out of me. I started shaking as a chill crept through me. Death enveloped me, clutching my soul with a wanton lust. My spirit quaked as my heart blackened.

Tears started falling down my cheeks as the visions slowly faded away. I felt like a hollow shell, void of any substance of life. Shaking my head I wiped the tears, but kept crying; unable to stop myself.

I walked to my bedroom, empty except for a small dresser. Its been 7 months since I moved and still no furniture. Saddened, I closed the door and opened the window. A cool breeze blew through. The sun was bright, warm, and comforting. I took in a couple deep breaths; my jaw still jittered from the flashback as I let it out. My shirt was drenched in sweat.

I opened the drawer of the dresser and grabbed my pipe and weed. I ground some up, put it in the pipe and took a couple of long, slow hits. After about 15 minutes I was fully medicated, seeing everything in a haze. I stared out of the window and looked down at the courtyard. A young couple sat at a table drinking wine; talking they looked happy. I could see smoke rising from the grill next to them and smelled the scent of barbeque.

Everything I was worrying about started to fade away. The pain in my back turned into a slight annoyance. I smiled a grin ear-to-ear and started beat boxing and singing; doing anything and everything to stop thinking about things the nightmares from hell that still haunt me.

I poured a glass of cold water from the tap. After slamming a couple, the blue eyes started haunting me again. I felt myself sliding back into the other place when my phone snapped me out of the fall.

I looked at the screen and saw that it was Jessica; I answered annoyingly, Hello.

Hi, what are you doing?

Just got home from work, I said sharply. Why, whats up?

I dont know; just seeing what youre doing. You never call me just to talk, she said, waiting silently for an answer.

I didnt know what to say. Sorry, Ive just been busy.

Doing what?

Working. You know my hours at work. I got upset. Is there something you want?

Yeah, I was wondering if you would like to come over and eat dinner with me and Aleah tonight and this weekend? You know have some family time.

I was torn, feeling deep in my heart like I wanted to. But then I start thinking about what had just happened. The pain, the flashbacks, I was afraid to leave the house. I missed my daughter so much but I couldnt drive like this. I lied, I cant, I have an appointment later today and I have to work this weekend.

Really? You told me you were off, she said angrily.

Well Mick asked me to work a couple extra shifts and I said yes. I got upset again. What do you want me to do about it? I cant just say No now; its work.

You never want to spend time with us. Aleah is always asking about you. What should I tell her?

I felt awful. My heart started to burn.

Im sorry, Jessica, but I have to work. I gave in a little, I can come over after my shift is done. We can eat and play games. You can tell her I have to work and Ill see her later.

Ok. Whatever, she said.