I picked this up over at free republic.com:
"I had done everything I could to save his life.
We had gotten into a fire-fight with some N.V.A. unit somewhere near the border with Laos. (hell...let's be real...we were caught by surprise). Co.'s A and C, along with some attached South Vietnamese troops, had been ambushed along a border trail that we patrolled...and we were getting the stuffing knocked out of us. I had 22 patients in the first 1/2 hour...and they seemed to be coming in regularly. ( I served as a Medic). Most were minor wounds...but then they brought in Ricky.
I first met Ricky when we both arrived 'in country' about the same time. Both of us were from the Los Angeles area..and both of us surfed...so it was kinda natural that we became friends. We would spend hours talking to each other about which beach had the best waves...and the best looking girls. He always swore that Newport had the best of both...while I naturally thought the waves, and girls, were better around Santa Monica. We would talk about music (we both agreed that Johnny Cash was one of the best)...and about playing guitar. Both of us tho....wanted nothing more than to get out of Vietnam alive....and head to Australia because we both agreed that the BEST was there.
Like me, Ricky was a reluctant soldier. Neither of us were very good at drill....(hated it...waste of time) and both of us felt a natural reluctance to blindly obey orders. But we did our jobs as best we could.
A mortar round had taken off the lower part of his right leg...just above the knee. He also had taken two rounds in the shoulder. Blood was shooting out of his torn leg...and he was in immense pain. I got some morphine into him....and then tried to stem the flow of blood. His femoral artery had been torn and had retracted into his thigh. There was nothing I could do but reach into his thigh and try and find the artery before he bled out. Working in his thigh was like working with hamburger...it was so shredded. And each time I moved my hand...it would increase the apprehension even more...and that would increase the pain. (note to those who don't know...pain medication works best when you are calm....and doesn't work very well when you are stressed.) The other Medic, Stan, was working on the shoulder wounds at the same time.
I finally found the artery..and clamped it off..and I tried to take a few moments to assess his entire situation.
He was failing.
He was dying.....and I couldn't see why.
Stan had done a awesome job getting the wounds in his shoulder to stop bleeding and had started plasma. I knew that he has lost a lot of blood....but he should be rebounding on the vital signs. But his blood pressure kept dropping.
There comes a time when you KNOW that you're going to die...and Ricky had arrived at that time.
He looked at me and tried to smile...but couldn't.
"Guess you're gonna have to surf for me...ok???"
I tried to tell him that he would be ok...but he knew.
He said that to let his mom know that he did ok...and to let her know that he would see her later.
And then he said..."Funny...No one will even remember my name."...and then he quietly cried out for "Momma"...and passed on to the next world in my arms.
We later found out that the reason he died is that one of the rounds that he had taken in his shoulder has broken off some bone...and that bone had cut the arteries near his heart. He bled to death internally. There was nothing Stan or myself could have done. But it has never stopped the guilt in either of us.
After the War...I took some of my pictures of Ricky that I had taken...to his parents in Southern California. We became friends...and to this day I talk to his brother and sisters at least once a year. His parents passed away in 1997 in a car crash.
In a few days it will be MEMORIAL DAY. A day where the people of the United States pledge to remember those who gave their all. A day that had been set aside to remember all the sacrifice....and all the pain...and all the death that has kept this Nation safe.
It is NOT about a three day weekend.
It is NOT about picnic's and barbecue's.
It IS about this Nation keeping it's word.
It IS about remembering the 'Ricky's' in our past who gave up their future so everyone could be Free.
I guess the question is...can YOU give up one day for them????"
FREEDOM ISN'T FREE
