Speaking of "Rich in Imagination", here's Saving Pvt. Lynch....
thestar.com
The real 'Saving
Pte. Lynch'
Iraqi medical staff tell a
different story than U.S.
military
'We all became friends with
her, we liked her so much'
MITCH POTTER
MIDDLE EAST BUREAU
NASIRIYA, Iraq—The fog of war
comes sometimes with a certain
odour, and cutting through its
layers, like cutting through an
onion, can bring tears to the eyes.
Such is the case with what is far
and away the most oft-told story of
the Persian Gulf War II — the
saga of Saving Private Lynch.
Branded on to our consciousness
by media frenzy, the flawless
midnight rescue of 19-year-old
Private First Class Jessica Lynch
hardly bears repeating even a
month after the fact.
Precision teams of U.S. Army
Rangers and Navy Seals, acting on
intelligence information and
supported by four helicopter
gunships, ended Lynch's nine-day
Iraqi imprisonment in true Rambo
style, raising America's spirits when
it needed it most.
All Hollywood could ever hope to
have in a movie was there in this
extraordinary feat of rescue —
except, perhaps, the truth.
So say three Nasiriya doctors, two
nurses, one hospital administrator
and local residents interviewed
separately last week in a Toronto
Star investigation.
The medical team that cared for
Lynch at the hospital formerly
known as Saddam Hospital is only
now beginning to appreciate how
grand a myth was built around the
four hours the U.S. raiding party
spent with them early on April
Fool's Day.
And they are disappointed.
For Dr. Harith Houssona, 24, who
came to consider Lynch a friend
after nurturing her through the worst of her injuries, the ironies are almost
beyond tabulation.
"The most important thing to know is that the Iraqi soldiers and commanders
had left the hospital almost two days earlier," Houssona said. "The night they
left, a few of the senior medical staff tried to give Jessica back. We carefully
moved her out of intensive care and into an ambulance and began to drive to the
Americans, who were just one kilometre away. But when the ambulance got
within 300 metres, they began to shoot. There wasn't even a chance to tell them
`We have Jessica. Take her.'"
One night later, the raid unfolded. Hassam Hamoud, 35, a waiter at Nasiriya's
al-Diwan Restaurant, describes the preamble, when he was approached outside
his home near the hospital by U.S. Special Forces troops accompanied by an
Arabic translator from Qatar.
"They asked me if any troops were still in the hospital and I said `No, they're all
gone.' Then they asked about Uday Hussein, and again, I said `No,'" Hamoud
said. "The translator seemed satisfied with my answers, but the soldiers were
very nervous."
At midnight, the sound of helicopters circling the hospital's upper floors sent
staff scurrying for the x-ray department — the only part of the hospital with no
outside windows. The power was cut, followed by small explosions as the
raiding teams blasted through locked doors.
A few minutes later, they heard a man's voice shout, "Go! Go! Go!" in English.
Seconds later, the door burst open and a red laser light cut through the
darkness, trained on the forehead of the chief resident.
"We were pretty frightened. There were about 40 medical staff together in the
x-ray department," said Dr. Anmar Uday, 24. "Everyone expected the
Americans to come that day because the city had fallen. But we didn't expect
them to blast through the doors like a Hollywood movie."
Dr. Mudhafer Raazk, 27, observed dryly that two cameramen and a still
photographer, also in uniform, accompanied the U.S. teams into the hospital.
Maybe this was a movie after all.
Separately, the Iraqi doctors describe how the tension fell away rapidly once
the Americans realized no threat existed on the premises. A U.S. medic was led
to Lynch's room as others secured the rest of the three-wing hospital. Several
staff and patients were placed in plastic handcuffs, including, according to
Houssona, one Iraqi civilian who was already immobilized with abdominal
wounds from an earlier explosion.
One group of soldiers returned to the x-ray room to ask about the bodies of
missing U.S. soldiers and was led to a graveyard opposite the hospital's south
wall. All were dead on arrival, the doctors say.
"The whole thing lasted about four hours," Raazk said. "When they left, they
turned to us and said `Thank you.' That was it."
The Iraqi medical staff fanned out to assess the damage. In all, 12 doors were
broken, a sterilized operating theatre contaminated, and the specialized traction
bed in which Lynch had been placed was trashed.
"That was a special bed, the only one like it in the hospital, but we gave it to
Jessica because she was developing a bed sore," Houssona said.
What bothers Raazk most is not what was said about Lynch's rescue, so much
as what wasn't said about her time in hospital.
"We all became friends with her, we liked her so much," Houssona said.
"Especially because we all speak a little English, we were able to assure her the
whole time that there was no danger, that she would go home soon."
Initial reports indicated Lynch had been shot and stabbed after emptying her
weapon in a pitched battle when her unit, the U.S. Army's 507th Ordnance
Maintenance Company, was ambushed after its convoy became lost near
Nasiriya.
A few days after her release, Lynch's father told reporters none of the wounds
were battle-related. The Iraqi doctors are more specific. Houssona said the
injuries were blunt in nature, possible stemming from a fall from her vehicle.
"She was in pretty bad shape. There was blunt trauma, resulting in compound
fractures of the left femur (upper leg) and the right humerus (upper arm). And
also a deep laceration on her head," Houssona said. "She took two pints of
blood and we stabilized her. The cut required stitches to close. But the leg and
arm injuries were more serious."
Nasiriya's medical team was going all out at this point, due to the enormous
influx of casualties from throughout the region. The hospital lists 400 dead and
2,000 wounded in the span of two weeks before and during Lynch's eight-day
stay.
"Almost all were civilians, but I don't just blame the Americans," Raazk said.
"Many of those casualties were the fault of the fedayeen, who had been using
people as shields and in some cases just shooting people who wouldn't fight
alongside them. It was horrible."
But they all made a point of giving Lynch the best of everything, he added.
Despite a scarcity of food, extra juice and cookie were scavenged for their
American guest.
They also assigned to Lynch the hospital's most nurturing nurse, Khalida Shinah.
At 43, Shinah has three daughters close to Lynch's age. She immediately
embraced her foreign patient as one of her own.
"It was so scary for her," Shinah said through a translator. "Not only was she
badly hurt, but she was in a strange country. I felt more like a mother than a
nurse. I told her again and again, Allah would watch over her. And many nights
I sang her to sleep."
In the first few days, Houssona said the doctors were somewhat nervous as to
whether Iraqi intelligence agents would show any interest in Lynch. But when
the road between Nasiriya and Baghdad fell to the U.S.-led coalition, they
knew the danger had passed.
"At first, Jessica was very frightened. Everybody was poking their head in the
room to see her and she said `Do they want to hurt me?' I told her, `Of course
not. They're just curious. They've never seen anyone like you before.'
"But after a few days, she began to relax. And she really bonded with Khalida.
She told me, `I'm going to take her back to America with me."
Three days before the U.S. raid, Lynch had regained enough strength that the
team was ready to proceed with orthopaedic surgery on her left leg. The
procedure involved cutting through muscle to install a platinum plate to both
ends of the compound fracture. "We only had three platinum plates left in our
supply and at least 100 Iraqis were in need," Raazk said. "But we gave one to
Jessica."
A second surgery, and a second platinum plate, was scheduled for Lynch's
fractured arm. But U.S. forces removed her before it took place, Raazk said.
Three days after the raid, the doctors had a visit from one of their U.S. military
counterparts. He came, they say, to thank them for the superb surgery.
"He was an older doctor with gray hair and he wore a military uniform," Raazk
said.
"I told him he was very welcome, that it was our pleasure. And then I told him:
`You do realize you could have just knocked on the door and we would have
wheeled Jessica down to you, don't you?'
"He was shocked when I told him the real story. That's when I realized this
rescue probably didn't happen for propaganda reasons. I think this American
army is just such a huge machine, the left hand never knows what the right hand
is doing."
What troubles the staff in Nasiriya most are reports that Lynch was abused
while in their case. All vehemently deny it.
Told of the allegation through an interpreter, nurse Shinah wells up with tears.
Gathering herself, she responds quietly: "This is a lie. But why ask me? Why
don't you ask Jessica what kind of treatment she received?"
But that is easier said than done. At the Pentagon last week, U.S. Army
spokesman Lt.-Col. Ryan Yantis said the door to Lynch remains closed as she
continues her recovery at Washington's Walter Reed Army Medical Centre.
"Until such time as she wants to talk — and that's going to be no time soon, and
it may be never at all — the press is simply going to have to wait." |
