Landstuhl, Germany, Military Hospital
Helping the wounded in action
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Purple Heart WIA awardee Mat Soko from Pittsburgh
with DAF Paris volunteer Anna Marie Mattson |
Volunteer stories |
DA resolution |
If you'd like to donate
As Wall Street journalist Michael M. Phillips explains in his book,
The Gift of Valor, "the clothes of these heroes are
often cut off their back by medics and corpsmen as they are evacuated
from the battlefield." He adds, "If you make it to Landstuhl,
you're good to go. It was an article of faith among the Marine infantrymen
in Iraq that if the corpsman plugged up the hole to keep you from
bleeding out, and the field surgeons stitched up the important organs,
and the Air Force got you all the way to the Army hospital in Landstuhl,
Germany, then you'd live. You might not be the same. Your legs might
not be where they were before the war. Your arms might not work
as well. Your skin might be disfigured by burns. Your brain might
be so badly injured that you might not be the same person you used
to be. But you'd survive and eventually get home to your parents,
your wife, your kids, your girl."
America can never repay the debt it owes to these soldiers and their
families, but it can certainly improve their quality of life. Much
attention has been rightly given to substandard conditions at Walter
Reed Army Medical Center in Washington, but more could be done to
help improve the plight of the WIA at Landstuhl, the stopover point
before returning home. There is a need for phone cards and sweats—phone
cards so the wounded can call their loved ones to let them know
how they are, sweats so they can feel new and whole again. Healing
and convalescent periods can last for months. Please see
list below of items needed for the Chaplain's Closet.
Patients don't ask for much. In fact, when they make it to Landstuhl
they feel confident they will make it home because Landstuhl provides
some of the best medical care in the world. The officers and staff
at this hospital are to be commended for the outstanding care they
give these young heroes, even in the face of scarce resources. The
soldiers do receive a small clothing allowance, but if one arrived
with nothing it doesn't go very far.
Words such as "support the troops" and "sacrifice"
are tossed around so much these days that they are in danger of
being dismissed as clichés. Here is another one: "Talk
is cheap." Care packages and cards are nice, and a donation
to "Outreach Landstuhl" is effortless.
Contact in the Riviera: Caroline Foster Caubet cmcfc@aol.com,
06 09 87 91 25. In Paris: Anna Marie Mattson ammattson@wanadoo.fr,
06 14 16 15 16. Or send directly, checks payable
to IMA-E CTOF-WW, marked "Wounded Warrior" to:
Landstuhl Regional Medical Center
US Hospital
Pastoral Services:
Chaplain Harp
66849 Landstuhl
Kirchberg Allemagne |
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Items needed:
1) Phone cards- 100 to 120 min variety seem to be best
2) New pillows (to prop up limbs w/casts & fixators)
3) New DVDs (no extreme violence)
4) New CDs (no violent lyrics or profanity)
5) New portable CD players w/headphones
6) New washcloths, hand towels and bath towels (dark colors are
best)
7) Lip balm (mentholatum, chapstick, etc.)
8) Mouthwash (travel size)
9) Hand-held electronic games—portable
10) Shampoo, conditioner and hair gel (travel size only)
11.) Plastic toothbrush and bar soap travel holders
12.) Mint & cinnamon chewing gum
13.) Duffle bags (new)
14.) Men's and women's boxer shorts/underwear (new)
15.) Sweatshirts/ pants (new)
16.) Men's and women's athletic shoes (new)
17.) Shorts (new)
18.) T-shirts (new)
19.) Baseball caps
20.) Other gifts/candies/ etc.
Those from
DAF personally delivering gifts tell us what they saw and how they
were received.
Berry Hayward is a WWII Veteran of the Army
Air Corps.
Anna Marie Mattson’s father served in
the 29th Bomber Group and uncle in the 10th Mountain Division.
Katharine Whipple baked cookies and protested
the Vietnam war as a teen. She took brownies to Landstuhl.
Were
you ever in Iraq, ma’am?
Anna Marie Mattson - In the
intensive care ward, we put on scrubs. The first soldier had been
hit by a sniper, his lung punctured. He asked me, “Were you
ever in Iraq, ma’am?” then told his story: His unit had
been hit by a grenade and several killed. Through his tears he said
that the Iraqis celebrate every time an American soldier is
killed, and that they don't want them there. “We are
only trying to do good for them, but they don’t care.”
He was so happy to be hearing English full time again. I encouraged
him to tell his story over and over again for the sake of his comrades,
which seemed to be a relief.
Shrapnel from a kamikaze car bomb hit another solider from Florida.
He said the same thing: “We’re only trying to do good
but they don’t want us there.” Before
the car exploded, his platoon had just secured the village for insurgents
and had been giving out blankets. They found the bombs covered with
the same blankets they had just handed out.
We explained that we were bringing gifts from American Democrats who
live abroad, that we were not there for any political reason, only
for them to know we care. We gave each one the handwritten card and
Ganesh, the elephant (a good luck charm), along with chocolates. Some
of the soldiers cried when they read the card, saying, “We
didn't know that people cared so much and from so far away.”
We let them know where each gift came from, i.e. American Democrats
living in India, Belgium, Greece, France, Switzerland.
Wendy Werner, liaison officer at Landstuhl, picked us up— full
of grins and so happy to see the gifts, she began to call us Mr. and
Mrs. Santa Claus. She is a medic, having served a year in Iraq. She
is also a single mother in her early 30 years who really misses her
13-year-old son who will come in the summer. Liaison officers like
Wendy each serve different units and practically live, eat and breathe
together, as they must be present to take care of the wounded
every time an ambulance plane lands. “Every day's a
Monday,” one confided. “Wheels down,” “on
route” are signal words when planes will land. When ambulance
buses land the able WIA are taken off their stretchers; it's like
watching butterflies wake up. They had all been on the long flight
from Baghdad and were coming out of a daze. One soldier hollered,
"Is there anyone here from Michigan?"
Later we visited around 40 wounded soldiers in three wards, going
from room to room, patient to patient, saying hello to all the medical
staff. I particularly remember a soldier who proudly showed shrapnel
which had been removed from his arm. He could not move either of his
arms so I just shook his toe. The nurse kept coming in to wipe his
face and eyes. He was a happy-go-lucky fellow and kept chuckling away
at a DVD. He told me that only two out of five soldiers in his humvee
had survived the EFP, the copper bomb. He also said that he asked
the nurse to pull the curtains around his bed because the other soldiers
were too negative.
Another soldier said he was so happy that he could move again. For
days he had been kept motionless so his right leg would heal. He kept
looking for hours at the only painting he could see from his bed,
a poster by Ernest Tovar. After returning to France, I looked it up
on the internet and found it. I wonder how the military acquires these
posters... He also said that one of his men had come to visit him
the day before and he felt it was high time to "soldier up and
to stop feeling sorry for himself". The last I saw of him, he
was spinning down the hallways on his wheelchair with his right leg
braced out in front of him, racing down the corridors with this wife
struggling to keep up with him.
Berry was a big hit, and the soldiers made
a real effort to sit up and shake his hand. One soldier said “If
it weren’t for you, sir, we wouldn’t be here today.”
Berry has been an educational planner for the OECD, so he gave advice:
“Get an education, use the G.I. bill like I did.” Berry
could also make the soldiers laugh, and it was great to see
their faces light up.
We met a soldier from Guam who was wounded in Ethiopia by an explosive
device. Has money for this war been approved by Congress?
Other questions arose: Since soldiers are unaware of the situation
at Walter Reed Hospital, what kind of censorship is going on?
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I’m glad
you were there
Berry Hayward, WWII Veteran - Driving into the forested
hills of Landstuhl, we find an American community organized around
a single purpose—to serve and heal the injured, the wounded,
the sick service men and women brought in from embattled
places such as Iraq and Afghanistan. Modern, utilitarian
buildings and grounds extend along wooded hillsides, protected by
German security guards who process our entry papers.
My first impression, walking along the grounds and inside the hospital,
is of people easy with each other in their various uniforms—a
family-like community. Whatever their roles, their work is large
and unquestionable. They appear to have been given the means—a
spacious, equipped and modern hospital—to do it right.
The bedridden men we visited, for the most part could be described
as “trying to make the best of it.”
Few complain. One fellow said he would return to the front when
healed. Another said all he wanted was to get back to his family.
One tearfully told how his best friend in action right beside him
had not survived. Another told us that his leg got crushed between
two trucks on the last day of his tour.
These sick and wounded service people are far from home, and it
is not difficult to discern their anxiety for the future.
They appreciate any spontaneous show of concern, respect and hopefulness,
even, “Hi, how d’y’feel?”
Note, we couldn’t be there at all without our “sponsor,”
Sgt. Wendy, and the special status of Anna Marie; maybe I’d
be welcome as a vet. The military understandably doesn’t want
people wandering around. However, the hospital staff indicated,
“Welcome” with every gesture.
We come away with sad thoughtfulness—confronting
the world that still demands such needless suffering and sacrifice—but
hopefulness in seeing the courage and forbearance of the
sick and the wounded and the devotion of the community of people
ministering to them.
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Parallels
Katharine Whipple - I grew up in Connecticut
during the Vietnam war and see so many parallels to what was going on
then and what is happening now with the Iraq war and American politics.
There's the same greedy profiteering of a few off the pain of many.
And the same manipulation and deception of the American people,
using the fear factor to get them to fall in line behind the
program. Back then it was Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara and the
Domino theory, then it was Donald Rumsfeld, Bush et al and the nonexistant
weapons of mass destruction.
I also remember how shamefully returning Viet vets were treated by many
civilians and the U.S. government...like "losers" when they
weren't the ones behind the twisted politics and economics that caused
the war. All the same, they often were bearing the heavy seen
and unseen human cost of war...just doing their duty for their
country. Even back there, back then, I wanted to do whatever I could
personally on a small, individual scale against such huge injustices.
At Kaiserslauten, 30 minutes from Landstuhl, we stood in the sunny courtyard
handing out baked goods and making conversation, watching soldiers wander
by, some in uniform, some not. Many stopped to talk, interested in the
treats and curious to talk with American civilians, rarely seen there.
At first everything seemed "normal." Then you see the soldier
in dark glasses with an eye injury from shrapnel... soldiers with head
injuries, multiple concussions from exploding IED's (improvised explosive
devices) and post traumatic stress. Upstairs in the residence hall there
were recreation rooms and rucksacks lined up for soldiers shipping out—most
to army bases in the U.S.: "Home." Some were going to Walter
Reed Hospital in Virginia, a few back to Iraq. Then we went to Landstuhl.
We acknowledged that the gifts were from Democrats,
but that we were not there to talk politics. One soldier's response
was "Hey, that's all right, I'm a Democrat! And we better get
Hillary or Obama in there [White House] or we'll NEVER get out of
this mess!"
We met:
- A soldier with a blond crew cut proudly showed me
a photo of his baby daughter he was going back to see for the first
time.
- A tall, animated, black woman talked about needing
a hip replacement, because hers had been blown away by shrapnel.
She was just glad to be going "home."
- Another soldier wanted to hug me, he was so happy
to see American civilians there to visit them.
- One attractive woman Marine with long dark hair
and a friendly smile, said it was the first day she was allowed
to have solid food. She was there for a non-combat surgery and looked
forward to returning to her unit in Iraq. Why? She replied that
she missed the guys in her unit, they were so caring and would do
anything for her. She continued that whatever she had been through
in the military, she wouldn't trade the experience, as she had met
so many fine people and learned so much from it.
- A wounded Marine was happy to practice his French
language skills with us, a welcome distraction from his injuries—his
body covered with shrapnel wounds and feet torn apart by an IED.
- An energetic soldier walking out in the hall, hair
combed in spikey tufts, bluntly told me that he was there because
"I got a rocket shot through my ass." The rocket had grazed
several vital organs, and he was scheduled for a series of surgeries,
but just "lucky to be alive." Lucky to be alive... how
many of our soldiers and Iraqi civilians aren't here to say that?
I am impressed by the humanity, courage and humor so many soldiers
show in the face of suffering. Their receptiveness and gratitude
toward us for the simple act of being there was indescribable. I
was also impressed by those who were too deep in their physical
pain, depression and/or anger who couldn't or wouldn't speak out.
The day at Landstuhl brought insights and realizations—one
of which is that the members of our little team were some
of the few U.S. civilian eyewitnesses to what the U.S. government
wants so much to keep hidden: the current and real human cost of
war.
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