Failure is not an option, or at least it’s not in my occupation. I am a United States Navy Corpsman, and that means never quitting or giving up because people’s lives depend on it.

I came into the Navy in 2010, and they told me I was going to be a Corpsman. I had no idea what that was until I joined and discovered the rich heritage behind this prestigious Navy rate. They told me I was going to go to Afghanistan after my eight months of medical training. In no way did I feel like I was prepared to do this. People’s lives depended on my medical knowledge. I had done the book learning and taken the tests, but I didn’t have any experience treating real casualties. I feel like this could make anyone a nervous wreck. The scariest sound you can hear when you’re over there is when someone screams “DOC!”, and speaking from experience, that sound sends a chill down your spine. The one thing you cannot think about is “will I be able to save this life?” My Marines relying on me was always one of the things that kept me going, and there was no way I was going to let them down. I feel like I’ve always been there, and everyone came home safe and alive. Looking back I have no idea how I got through all of it. It’s really surprising what you can accomplish if you reach down deep and find that true potential that’s in all of us.

It was a cold January day in Mousolmani Helmand Province, Afghanistan, and I was standing post with Lance Corporal Lopez, one of the machine gunners from my platoon. We were doing our usual post routine, smoking cigarettes, laughing, and all the things we couldn’t wait to do when we got home. All of the sudden we heard bursts of gunfire in the distance and we both looked at each and laughed. We agreed it was probably 1st platoon getting into a little gunfight, which was nothing unusual, as we would always take contact from the enemy while we were on patrol. They would usually be a thousand meters or so out, and their fire was never that accurate. It was life over here; it wasn’t that big of a deal. Me and Lopez went back to talking and messing around, when all of the sudden, in the distance we see two pick-up trucks barreling towards our compound. We both pointed our rifles down range and looked through our optics. We were trying to figure out who they were. We couldn’t tell if they were friendlies or enemies. The vehicles had no markings on them. They got closer, and closer, until they were about 200 meters out and showed no signs of slowing down, coming at us like hungry sharks towards bleeding prey. This spooked us a bit and we jumped behind the berm that the gate to our compound was attached to. Lopez and I communicated to each other, and agreed that if they closed in on 50 meters we would start to take out the vehicle, and if that didn’t work we would go for the driver. The vehicle was still rocketing towards us, we were both feeling very anxious. Neither of us wanted this encounter with these unknown persons. Lopez told me to “get ready” my finger was on the trigger. I was ready to do all I could to make sure the vehicle did not enter our compound. All of the sudden the two vehicles started heading to the East, off of the main road. We both let out a heavy sigh, and great relief washed over us. We looked at each other and started dying with nervous laughter. It’s all we could really do in that moment. Lopez just looked at me, shook his head and said “what the f*ck was that man?” I told him “I have no idea”. We were just over all the excitement when I heard a shout from one of the other posts. “DOC! We need you over here…NOW!”

My relief was short lived. I started to run over to the back of our compound and I heard one of my Marines from his post yell “Never mind”. This was very torturous to me. I was upset, and screamed up to the post “hey man, what the hell is going on over there?” and he said “hang on, we have casualties”. Suddenly the back gate busted open and in ran an Afghan National Policeman or ANP as we called them. His face was completely covered in blood, like some sick Halloween costume and it really threw me off guard. I started to run up to him and screamed at our interpreter to ask him what was wrong with him. I could see no visible trauma, all I saw was bright red blood pouring down his face like some colored waterfall. I started to examine his face, puzzled; I had no idea where the blood was coming from. The back gate busted open and all I heard was loud yelling, both in English and Pashto. The next casualty came in and one Marine and Afghan Army soldier were carrying in multiple casualties. The man with the bloody face who I had been working on started crying and yelling in Pashto, he ran over to his friend like a scared child running to his mother. He looked like he had been wounded pretty badly in his Left leg, as I saw heavy venous blood flowing from it. As I started to work on him, I saw another casualty come in .Another, and another; they kept pouring in. We had seven total, four of which were in need of urgent medical attention. As I packed the wound of the ANP I was working on, I instructed a Marine next to me to wrap it up with a pressure dressing and finish assessing him. By this time I look up and see one of the other Corpsman running out, and a bit of relief washed over when I realized I had help. I ran over to another injured Afghani Soldier who had been shot twice in his left arm, flesh torn off, I could see all the way to the bone. He already had tourniquets on, and his bleeding had been stopped. I checked to see if he had an airway, and he was breathing. I knew he was still alive, so I put a catheter needle in his unaffected arm, and instructed a Marine to start pushing blood volume expander in. We had Marines that were certified in combat lifesaving, so I used them to my advantage. The other Corpsman and I were instructing our Marines what to do, running the scene like an emergency room in a hospital, people and medical supplies were flying all over the place. While this was going on our platoon’s staff sergeant had called in a medical evacuation for the wounded, and told us the bird would be here in 15 minutes.

It was time to move the casualties to the landing zone, so they could be evacuated. We gathered a team of Marines and ANA Soldiers to move the casualtiesand hold security in case we took enemy contact, we knew there was enemy in the area, and they might even try to shoot the helicopter down. We ran out to the Landing zone and had our mine sweepers clear a safe path for us and the chopper, and as they did this me and the other Corpsman continued reassessing our patients making sure that they were still breathing. We had a moment while we were waiting for the bird and I looked around and examined all the casualties and I knew that I had done all I could for them until they reached their next level of care. While we were sitting there I zoned out a little and was reflecting the situation to myself, and what had happened. It almost didn’t seem real. It was almost like I had been pulled out of my body and was floating above everything and was a spectator at my event. I snapped out of my daze when I heard the sound of rotating blades in the distance, and heard the squad leader yell “here it comes!” To my surprise it was a British medivac, and it was coming in hot! With it was an attack helicopter as an escort ready to take out any potential enemy threat. As it landed we gathered up our casualties and ran them onto the helicopter and the flight medic asked me what we had. I gave him the paper that I had wrote all the Injuries sustained and treatments I had rendered. He thanked me, tossed out two trash bags of medical supplies and they took off as fast as they had come in.

We all stood there and watched it take off. As I walked back to the compound I was feeling an array of emotions, I can’t describe exactly how I felt. All I know is I felt proud when my squad leader patted me on the back and said “good job Doc” and that was all I needed. I went back to my post and continued my shift until my time was up. That’s all you can really do. The world keeps on turning I guess.

I am not comparing my experiences in Afghanisitan to my education, but I know I have pushed myself to the absolute limits of stress. I am scared of going back to school. I’m afraid of failure, but I know I can’t accept failure as an option.