My Time in Iraq: Part 2

I was stationed at Camp Bucca. It was named after a fallen 911 firefighter. This little camp was in spitting distance from Um Qsar and an hour drive from Al Basra. The purpose of Camp Bucca was to hold Iraqi detainees and Foreign Nationals. My Unit was almost 300 strong, mostly Military Police. We detained 6,000 Iraqi Men.
When I first arrived, everyone lived in long trailers- the exact same single wides that tornados like to destroy.As the newbie, I had the privilege of bunking next to Allen, AKA Private Deanna Allen- who would later make the news back home for her late night breast baring-mud wrestling excursions. There was definitely a click within the females, and they did not like Allen. I unpacked to ease my mind's tension and an older man came to the door. He asked for me and suddenly I heard my name, "MCGILL!", being repeatedly called by several girls. I ran to the door and extended my formal Army courtesy. SGT. Davis was his name. We sat down and he went over my duties and responsibilities. Camp Bucca was not fully staffed or equipped. One important MOS that didn't make the roster was that of the Preventive Medicine Specialist. They were the Health Inspectors of the Camp. I was asked to fill in as a Prev. Med. Spec and work as a Medic. I was Gung Ho! and up for the challenge.

Between every event, there are very long moments of boredom. Iraq was like that. Mundane rituals, crunching gravel underfoot, chow time, chow time chow time, clean your weapon, chow time...the events are what we remember.

Cat Stories:  We had a lot of feral cats. This fact coupled with lack of intimacy and affection created pets- or Mascots. The cats were everywhere. Some were sick and none of them had been vaccinated. SGT. Davis and I decided to spay/neuter these animals so the population would be under control. We met up with a Veterinarian from Northern Iraq. He came down and performed several procedures with us as assistants. We didn't have a surgical table or normal anesthesia- so we used Ketamine and an ironing board. The ironing board came from the male barracks (we never told them either).
One day, sunny and bright- I again heard my name being called loudly. An out of breath boy ran up to me and said that I was needed right away, ordered by Col. Hauser. I grabbed my aid bag and followed the long legged messenger. On the scene, I realized the magnitude of the situation and wondered why on earth the Colonel thought I was the soldier for the job. A Staff-Sergeant had started the engine of a HMMV with a cat in the engine. The fan blade had hacked at its' back and tail. It was in poor shape. I decided, okay- save the cat. I applied a pressure dressing on the venous bleed and splinted its' leg. Bandages were taped to the other various cuts and tears. Later that day I was summoned to the Colonels' office. He asked for a SITREP. I informed him that the cat was not eating nor drinking and it would surely die. He asked what could be done. I replied that the cat needed an IV and I didn't know how to perform that procedure on the feline species. Under an hour later, a plan was devised.  A movement order was written and the cat hacking SSG and I were placing our tiny friend in a box and taking our seats in a security escorted HMMV. We had a secret mission that if revealed, had serious consequences for our Commander. Together we rode up to the check point leading back into Kuwait. The guard unknowingly waived us thru. After awhile, we parked inside a small camp where we would try to persuade an Army Veterinarian to assist us and our feral friend. "Absolutely Not!!" said the Vet. He didn't want to lose any brass over some ragged Iraqi cat. We began walking the long walk back to the vehicle when a soft voice became audible. A young Vet Tech told me that although she wouldn't help the cat, she would explain to me what needed to be done.
The checkpoint back into Iraq would be much more difficult. This time, I didn't have a breathless cat on the verge of death. I had a scratching, meowing cat in a box with an IV in its' arm and a plastic IV tube coming out to a hanging bag of saline. ..Again, he waived us thru.
Kitty ICU was in my small hooch that I called home. My roommate, Allen, had already been kicked out of the Army by then, so I had converted her area, locker and bed into a couch and entertainment center- complete with mini DVD, books, and Cap'n Crunch. (for some reason I was addicted to that stuff while there) My patient was still in her box and her IV bag was hanging from a hook. I sat back and read for a while..maybe too long of a while- you see, I didn't know how much saline a cat should get. My little girl was completely round. She looked like a melon, ready to pop. Astounded, I DC'd her IV and waited a long and anxious wait- for her to urinate. At last, the sand beneath her darkened with fresh urine and I knew that all our trouble had not been in vain. After a couple of weeks, she was released back to the desert. And, just to make it a well rounded story- after his tour, Col Hauser sent for the cat and it is now living in North Carolina. True Story.