RIP DumDum
So, earlier I was dreaming at work, and was thinking of the worst questions you could ask someone, and one of them was "What is your worst memory?" I started to answer it to myself, and got flooded with all of my worst, and thought that this one in particular I would like to share.
In memory of CPL Nicholas Olivas. Father, brother, hero. Chainsaw Trp. 4/73rd Cavalry, 4th BCT 82nd Airborne Division. 5/30/2012
So, a few months into our deployment the brass above us coordinated massive mission in order to clear an area of all Taliban insurgents. It was a very big deal as we needed to be able to move freely throughout the area, as well as remove the Taliban influence on the surrounding villages. Our job was simple. Push the Taliban out of the area, set up strong points throughout the area to hold down the area we've cleared, and provide security for the engineers moving behind us that where clearing roads/removing IED's (basically DIY landmines).
Now, Olivas and I were both Minehound operators. Because of how severe the IED threat was it was SOP (Standard Operating Procedure) for all soldiers to follow behind someone using a minesweeper to clear the path. That was us. Now, we were sent ahead to the COP (Combat Out-Post) nearest to the area we would be clearing a day ahead of everyone else. The Taliban were starting to use a new method when making their IED's, so we got to spend a day going through practice lanes so we would know how our Minehound's would react. This way we'd be better off when trying to detect them.
The Taliban had started using glass mason jars to hold HME (Home Made Explosives). The metal detector in our Minehound wouldn't pick that up, and when using the GPR (Ground Penetrating Radar) they came up as barely even a blip. Keep in mind, GPR basically just tells you about irregularities in the density of whatever it passes over. Not very helpful, seeing as almost anything will set it off. Rocks. Soil packed tighter/looser. Bodies buried in the road. You need to have it perfectly calibrated for it to pick up these mason jars. After several hours and many passes through the training lanes it was starting to get dark, and we were released to eat/sleep before things kicked off. As were walking to where we had our cots set up we talking about the lanes, and how damn impossible it was for us to find the damn training IED's. We came to the conclusion that we were both going to die, high-fived, and relaxed until everyone who would be on the mission arrived.
Prior to the mission there was a massive Op-Order (Operation Order) in which everyone who would be involved gathers and gets the mission briefings, an in-depth look at the plan, showing where everyone would be, when, contingency plans, methods of communication, etc. Literally everything everyone needs to know. Leadership thought it would be a good idea to invite some of the local elders, let them be included, show them what we were doing to help them. Sounds friendly, but turned out to be a bad idea. Hacked Taliban frequencies told us that they were moving in a few hundred IED's into the area, seeing they now knew where we'd be, when, and our general plan of action. Lucky us.
Skip forward to dawn of the mission. Everyone started moving out just before daybreak, but due to the slow nature of movement and how many people/vehicles were moving out our platoon didn't really start making progress until daybreak. Now, Olivas was appointed primary minesweeper, accompanied by a canine, trained to sniff out HME and other explosives. I was about halfway back through our platoon's formation, back-up minesweeper.
We're only a few hours into the mission. We're pretty bored and generally just hating how much stuff we were carrying. There really wasn't a whole lot going on. I was considering lighting a cigarette to kill some time.
BOOM.
That grabs everyone's attention. I hear over a radio near me, "Olivas is hit! "Olivas is hit!" followed by a whole mess of orders. I start sprinting up to the front. I didn't need an order. Before I reach the very tip of our line I get the order to clear out a nearby field to ensure it'd be safe for a Medivac helicopter to land. It doesn't take me long. By the time I cleared it those who were at the front were already bringing him back on a stretcher. Between us was a wadi, or stream, and I joined the group on our side of it, so those who were carrying the stretcher could hand him over to us. I grabbed one of the arms on the stretcher and helped bring him over.
Both of his legs had tourniquets on, basically stopping all blood flow to his feet, so that he wouldn't bleed out. His feet. His fucking feet were mangled. They were shredding, you could see bones everywhere. His toes were still somewhat identifiable. I think the fact that you could still recognize that the mass of flesh and bone used to be perfectly formed feet, functioning, whole... I think that's what messed me up the most about their appearance. Olivas himself was still plenty conscious. Luckily the FET (Female Engagement Team) were right behind him, and they're both medics.
The helicopter didn't take too long to reach us, and his painkillers were definitely taking effect. He was talking to everyone, saying things like "I'm sorry I was being an asshole," (between the explosion and the tourniquet shit hurt, he didn't appreciate being manhandled), "Tell my wife and son I love them" (cliche, I know). McBride was there with us, hold Olivas to tell them himself. As we were loading him on the bird I told him I'd see him when I got back. I honestly thought I would. He got treated immediately, and the FET team did a phenomenal job. We got him a helicopter and sent out to hospital really quick. All things considered, things were in his favour.
After the bird took off we re-grouped, I stayed at the front. It was my turn. And I have my smoke. 1SGT Franco walked by me while I was smoking. I honestly thought he was going to bitch me out, he was always super anal about rules and everything. He just looked at me, nodded, and kept on going.
We got the order to continue movement, and so we went. I cleared the way for the platoon, marking potential trouble spots. We didn't see too much in the way of contact. We learned from reports that the Taliban were generally just avoiding, running away. Running right into the 501st guys who were holding the perimeter.
Later that day we reach our first checkpoint. Can't remember if it was Whale or Tuna... We turn it into a small strongpoint. A giant grapehut, with some open area around it, and mud walls securing the perimeter. We hunker down, set guards, take a rest, eat, sleep. Let the engineers work around us. Explosions all around us every so often. Their method of clearing roads of IED's was to launch a chain of basically grenades along a road using a rocket, and then detonating. That would trigger/destroy any IED's along the path. Just would have been nice if they warned us about the ones right outside our walls.
I get woken up in the middle of the night for my guard shift. I'm on the 240B (machine gun) guarding the main entrance to our compound. Halfway through the shift someone comes and taps me on the shoulder. "Olivas is dead. While he was in the hospital a clamp on one of his arteries came undone, he bled out." I thought that once he was there he'd be safe. Our medical team did everything right. They did an amazing job, and quick. We got him shipped out really, really quick. I hated his doctors, even though I didn't know them, for a very long time. He should have lived.
The next day another unit takes over our position and we continue mission. Again, we didn't see much in the way of contact, occasionally finding more IED's that needed to be removed. Eventually we reach our second checkpoint. Still can't remember what it was called. Either Whale or Tuna...
While we were setting up and making it more defensible one of our NCO's called for a couple guys to start filling sandbags to give the guys pulling security on the roof some extra cover. Well, with Olivas's death fresh on our minds, nobody really wanted time to dwell on it, so next thing you know what started as a couple guys filling sandbags to literally everyone who wasn't on guard duty rapidly filling bags, hammer-throwing them up on top of the building. It was motivating, and nothing helps take your mind off something quite like manual labor. It was actually therapeutic for everyone.
After everything was over, those of us involved involved in his injury and extraction were all called together in the mess tent at Ghariban, so we could talk about the incident. The Army is very big on mental health, and of course it was a traumatic experience. We went around the table, saying what we wanted/needed too about the experience, and while I can't even remember what I said, but one person's statement really stuck with me through the years.
To paraphrase,
It was amazing, how even after hearing that he did, how everyone was able to come together and be able to finish the mission. When everyone was filling sandbags, how they were all able to work, and laugh, and joke, and be able to get the job done even though everyone was hurting.
Olivas left behind a wife, a newborn son, and a beautiful family.
You know I'll never forget you, DumDum.
In memory of CPL Nicholas Olivas. Father, brother, hero. Chainsaw Trp. 4/73rd Cavalry, 4th BCT 82nd Airborne Division. 5/30/2012
So, a few months into our deployment the brass above us coordinated massive mission in order to clear an area of all Taliban insurgents. It was a very big deal as we needed to be able to move freely throughout the area, as well as remove the Taliban influence on the surrounding villages. Our job was simple. Push the Taliban out of the area, set up strong points throughout the area to hold down the area we've cleared, and provide security for the engineers moving behind us that where clearing roads/removing IED's (basically DIY landmines).
Now, Olivas and I were both Minehound operators. Because of how severe the IED threat was it was SOP (Standard Operating Procedure) for all soldiers to follow behind someone using a minesweeper to clear the path. That was us. Now, we were sent ahead to the COP (Combat Out-Post) nearest to the area we would be clearing a day ahead of everyone else. The Taliban were starting to use a new method when making their IED's, so we got to spend a day going through practice lanes so we would know how our Minehound's would react. This way we'd be better off when trying to detect them.
The Taliban had started using glass mason jars to hold HME (Home Made Explosives). The metal detector in our Minehound wouldn't pick that up, and when using the GPR (Ground Penetrating Radar) they came up as barely even a blip. Keep in mind, GPR basically just tells you about irregularities in the density of whatever it passes over. Not very helpful, seeing as almost anything will set it off. Rocks. Soil packed tighter/looser. Bodies buried in the road. You need to have it perfectly calibrated for it to pick up these mason jars. After several hours and many passes through the training lanes it was starting to get dark, and we were released to eat/sleep before things kicked off. As were walking to where we had our cots set up we talking about the lanes, and how damn impossible it was for us to find the damn training IED's. We came to the conclusion that we were both going to die, high-fived, and relaxed until everyone who would be on the mission arrived.
Prior to the mission there was a massive Op-Order (Operation Order) in which everyone who would be involved gathers and gets the mission briefings, an in-depth look at the plan, showing where everyone would be, when, contingency plans, methods of communication, etc. Literally everything everyone needs to know. Leadership thought it would be a good idea to invite some of the local elders, let them be included, show them what we were doing to help them. Sounds friendly, but turned out to be a bad idea. Hacked Taliban frequencies told us that they were moving in a few hundred IED's into the area, seeing they now knew where we'd be, when, and our general plan of action. Lucky us.
Skip forward to dawn of the mission. Everyone started moving out just before daybreak, but due to the slow nature of movement and how many people/vehicles were moving out our platoon didn't really start making progress until daybreak. Now, Olivas was appointed primary minesweeper, accompanied by a canine, trained to sniff out HME and other explosives. I was about halfway back through our platoon's formation, back-up minesweeper.
We're only a few hours into the mission. We're pretty bored and generally just hating how much stuff we were carrying. There really wasn't a whole lot going on. I was considering lighting a cigarette to kill some time.
BOOM.
That grabs everyone's attention. I hear over a radio near me, "Olivas is hit! "Olivas is hit!" followed by a whole mess of orders. I start sprinting up to the front. I didn't need an order. Before I reach the very tip of our line I get the order to clear out a nearby field to ensure it'd be safe for a Medivac helicopter to land. It doesn't take me long. By the time I cleared it those who were at the front were already bringing him back on a stretcher. Between us was a wadi, or stream, and I joined the group on our side of it, so those who were carrying the stretcher could hand him over to us. I grabbed one of the arms on the stretcher and helped bring him over.
Both of his legs had tourniquets on, basically stopping all blood flow to his feet, so that he wouldn't bleed out. His feet. His fucking feet were mangled. They were shredding, you could see bones everywhere. His toes were still somewhat identifiable. I think the fact that you could still recognize that the mass of flesh and bone used to be perfectly formed feet, functioning, whole... I think that's what messed me up the most about their appearance. Olivas himself was still plenty conscious. Luckily the FET (Female Engagement Team) were right behind him, and they're both medics.
The helicopter didn't take too long to reach us, and his painkillers were definitely taking effect. He was talking to everyone, saying things like "I'm sorry I was being an asshole," (between the explosion and the tourniquet shit hurt, he didn't appreciate being manhandled), "Tell my wife and son I love them" (cliche, I know). McBride was there with us, hold Olivas to tell them himself. As we were loading him on the bird I told him I'd see him when I got back. I honestly thought I would. He got treated immediately, and the FET team did a phenomenal job. We got him a helicopter and sent out to hospital really quick. All things considered, things were in his favour.
After the bird took off we re-grouped, I stayed at the front. It was my turn. And I have my smoke. 1SGT Franco walked by me while I was smoking. I honestly thought he was going to bitch me out, he was always super anal about rules and everything. He just looked at me, nodded, and kept on going.
We got the order to continue movement, and so we went. I cleared the way for the platoon, marking potential trouble spots. We didn't see too much in the way of contact. We learned from reports that the Taliban were generally just avoiding, running away. Running right into the 501st guys who were holding the perimeter.
Later that day we reach our first checkpoint. Can't remember if it was Whale or Tuna... We turn it into a small strongpoint. A giant grapehut, with some open area around it, and mud walls securing the perimeter. We hunker down, set guards, take a rest, eat, sleep. Let the engineers work around us. Explosions all around us every so often. Their method of clearing roads of IED's was to launch a chain of basically grenades along a road using a rocket, and then detonating. That would trigger/destroy any IED's along the path. Just would have been nice if they warned us about the ones right outside our walls.
I get woken up in the middle of the night for my guard shift. I'm on the 240B (machine gun) guarding the main entrance to our compound. Halfway through the shift someone comes and taps me on the shoulder. "Olivas is dead. While he was in the hospital a clamp on one of his arteries came undone, he bled out." I thought that once he was there he'd be safe. Our medical team did everything right. They did an amazing job, and quick. We got him shipped out really, really quick. I hated his doctors, even though I didn't know them, for a very long time. He should have lived.
The next day another unit takes over our position and we continue mission. Again, we didn't see much in the way of contact, occasionally finding more IED's that needed to be removed. Eventually we reach our second checkpoint. Still can't remember what it was called. Either Whale or Tuna...
While we were setting up and making it more defensible one of our NCO's called for a couple guys to start filling sandbags to give the guys pulling security on the roof some extra cover. Well, with Olivas's death fresh on our minds, nobody really wanted time to dwell on it, so next thing you know what started as a couple guys filling sandbags to literally everyone who wasn't on guard duty rapidly filling bags, hammer-throwing them up on top of the building. It was motivating, and nothing helps take your mind off something quite like manual labor. It was actually therapeutic for everyone.
After everything was over, those of us involved involved in his injury and extraction were all called together in the mess tent at Ghariban, so we could talk about the incident. The Army is very big on mental health, and of course it was a traumatic experience. We went around the table, saying what we wanted/needed too about the experience, and while I can't even remember what I said, but one person's statement really stuck with me through the years.
To paraphrase,
It was amazing, how even after hearing that he did, how everyone was able to come together and be able to finish the mission. When everyone was filling sandbags, how they were all able to work, and laugh, and joke, and be able to get the job done even though everyone was hurting.
Olivas left behind a wife, a newborn son, and a beautiful family.
You know I'll never forget you, DumDum.
I know you 2 are together. Love love love reading your stories. Even sad ones. I know he was with you that night. I love you so much. Forever. Never stopping for one moment.
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