Mass Casualties

by Michael Anthony

  Fangell is gone and I remember that I never got to hear how the story ends.

  MONTH 7

  “THE ARMY CAN'T ORDER ME TO PUT SOMETHING IN MY BODY.”

  WEEK 1, DAY 6, IRAQ

  1430 HOURS, OR

  I dump the contents from the package I received on the table:tuna fish, ramen noodles, a pair of used black socks, a notebook with half of the pages missing, and a pack of crayons from the family restaurant, Friendly's. The package says it's from a senior citizens group home in New Jersey.

  I remember watching a news special on NBC a few years ago. It was about elderly people who were poor and didn't have enough money to pay for all their bills; from medicine to food to heating. Some of them could only take a pill once a day that was prescribed for three times a day. Some could only afford to eat tuna fish for every meal of the day, while others were forced to eat dog food.

  I put away the food in the OR break-room cupboards; they're filled with supplies sent to us from dozens of soldier support groups across the United States. I eat better here in Iraq than I do at home.

  These people are sending us everything they have, and most of us don't deserve it. They aren't sending provisions to the heroes they think we are. It is going to us doing shit jobs and others who are criminals; people doing drugs, committing crimes, molesters, adulterers; people doing anything they can to only help themselves. The worst part about these old people sending me this package is they think they're helping. I don't want to tell anyone the truth because it will just break their hearts.

  WEEK 2, DAY 1, IRAQ

  0600 HOURS, MY ROOM

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  I know that cigarettes are bad for you. They're bad for your health; they're bad for your skin, your teeth, and all of your internal organs. They're addictive, and I know I've slowly become addicted.

  When my head is throbbing, I can hear the vessels in my brain pumping blood. It's as if tiny people are in my head trying to hammer their way out. I light up a Camel Light, and my headache goes away.

  Cigarettes work; don't kid yourself. They bring me to another place. They relax me. People say that in life we're either running away from pain or toward pleasure. Well, cigarettes combine both:They hide you from the pain and stress and they move you toward instantly gratifying pleasure. I'm not sure how much I smoke, and I don't really care. Not anymore. I'll quit when I get home. I'm only going to smoke in Iraq. I make a mental note to quit the second I get back to Boston.

  WEEK 2, DAY 7, IRAQ

  0600 HOURS, MY ROOM

  Steak. That means it's Wednesday. Every Wednesday is steak day. You know what? I don't even need a watch. I broke mine a little over a month ago, and I'm too cheap to buy a new one. But it doesn't even matter. My biological clock is set, fixed, and repaired. I wake up at the appropriate time and head to work, and I then stay there until the next shift comes in and then I go home. On schedule. First time, every time. I write in my journal every night and it doesn't matter if I don't know the exact date. I've been rebooted. I know when it's going to be steak day. And that's Wednesday.

  WEEK 3, DAY 5, IRAQ

  1700 HOURS, OR

  “The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.”

  — Martin Luther King Jr.

  I think Martin Luther King Jr. is right. A man's true character can only be tested when he's pushed to his limits. That's where the true test of manhood comes from. It has nothing to do with age or social status, only how you act when put to the test. How you deal with the test is then who you truly are.

  Gagney walks in the room:

  “There is a mandatory meeting tomorrow at 1400 hours. You will all be there!”

  Reto continues searching Google for the price of a pool table.

  “We're working tomorrow.”

  “Did I ask you if you were working? No! I know you are working.”

  “We can't just leave the OR — ”

  “You will all be there because this is a mandatory meeting!

  “Take a pager with you guys. If there's an emergency you'll be paged. Be there on time. In fact, be there early. I want you two the first ones there.”

  I can feel his anger linger in the room for minutes after he's gone.

  WEEK 3, DAY 6, IRAQ

  1445 HOURS, AUDITORIUM

  “Listen to me, soldiers; it is mandatory for everyone to get an anthrax shot.” Colonel Jelly stands on stage in front of our entire unit.

  “It is a series of six shots known as the Anthrax Vaccine Immunization Program, otherwise known as the AVIP. You must all get the shots within the next three days. That is a direct order! OR ELSE!” Colonel Jelly is actually not looking at anyone while he says this; instead he's reading from a script and staring at his shoes.

  Since Reto and I essentially have the same thoughts because we've been through so much together, I know he's thinking, “Why add the inflection at ‘OR ELSE?’ Whenever we are given a direct order, we are just given an order and that's it. It's assumed that the order will be followed. Never has there been an ‘OR ELSE’ attached to the end.”

  A paper is thrust into our hands. It only has three things written on it:

  The anthrax shot is mandatory.

  The shot is FDA approved.

  It is a series of six shots.

  The meeting ends and we go back to work. If this was like the flu shot, there wouldn't be a whole production. We wouldn't have needed a meeting. We wouldn't have been given papers, and Colonel Jelly wouldn't be giving us a direct order.

  1515 HOURS, OR

  Reto is on the computer searching Google for “anthrax shot.”

  “Look, man, I haven't even opened the first link yet but all the top results look bad.”

  I look down at the computer screen. There are a handful of links to click on, and each one has a blurb about the site or an article related to anthrax.

  American soldiers disciplined for not getting the anthrax shot: Is it safe? … American soldier dies after taking anthrax shot: More to come… . Anthrax shots now mandatory by the Pentagon: Adverse reactions cited … Gulf War Syndrome…. We click on one site after another. Reto is in one room on a computer. Hudge is in another doing the same thing. I'm at a third.

  “Hey, come check this out,” Reto yells to us. “Apparently the anthrax shot is FDA approved, but the company changed all the ingredients but still calls it by the same name.”

  “The FDA approved a series of three shots, not six.” Hudge is saying.

  Here's what else was found:

  We are statistically thousands of times more likely to get sick from the anthrax shots taen we are to ever come in contact with any type of anthrax. And on top of that, the shot doesn't protect us against airborne anthrax.

  There is a group of medical and military veterans that have evidence linking the anthrax shot to Gulf War syndrome from the first Gulf War.

  As of 2006, 1.2 million troops have been given the anthrax shot, and of those 1.2 million, over 20,000 have been hospitalized because of direct complications due to the anthrax shot or some mysterious sudden illness that occurred after they'd gotten the shot.

  The side effects can range from losing bone marrow and blood platelets to shrinking of the brain and Lou Gehrig's disease.

  There has been ZERO research into the long-term effects of the anthrax shot.

  1620 Hours,OR

  “I'm not taking it,” Hudge says.

  The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention had this to say about the shot and the reported frequency of side effects:

  Soreness, redness, or itching where the shot was given (about 1 out of 10 men, and about 1 out of 6 women)

  Muscle aches or joint aches (about 1 person out of 5)

  Headaches (about 1 person out of 5)

  Fatigue (about 1 out of 15 men and 1 out of 6 women)

  Chills or fever (about 1 person out of 20)

  Na
usea (about 1 person out of 20)

  Those aren't including the cases of the over 20,000 that were hospitalized.

  We continue our research….

  Some soldiers who refused to take the shot report being held down against their will and given the shots.

  The only reason the Army may be giving these shots is because they bought them during the first Gulf War and they're about to expire. They don't want them going to waste.

  2245 HOURS, OR

  “Who died in here?” Sergeant Sellers asks as she walks in the room.

  It's time for the change of shift.

  “Have a seat,” Hudge says. She tells Sellers everything we've learned in the last eight hours. “We've all agreed to refuse the shot. Here, I'll leave this computer on and you and Waters can look over the information and decide what you want to do.”

  Reto, Denti, and I get up to leave; we've all made our decision not to take the shot and we will all take the consequences together — whatever Colonel Jelly meant by “OR ELSE.”

  2315 HOURS, MY ROOM

  “Have you heard about these anthrax shots they're trying to make us take?”

  I normally don't like to interrupt Markham while he's playing, but he's always been there for me and I need to talk to someone.

  “We were at the OR on the computers doing research — ”

  Markham doesn't let me finish.

  “Slow down.”

  “We're not going to take them.”

  “Do you know the consequences if you refuse to take it?”

  “I don't know what they are….”

  “I have a friend that used to be in the Army. He was in the first Gulf War and he took the anthrax shots. He only got a series of three. He now has flulike symptoms for the rest of his life.”

  “Are you going to get it?”

  “Hell no.”

  “How are you… ?”

  “I'm exempt for being allergic to latex or something. But if I had to get the shot, I would refuse it. I think you're right.”

  “The Army can't order me to put something in my body.”

  “Dude, the U.S. Army can do whatever they want to you. You signed a contract; you gave up your rights.”

  WEEK 3, DAY 7, IRAQ

  1445 HOURS, OR

  When Reto and I get to work, Hudge and Denti are already waiting for us. They tell us they refused their shots. Reto and I walk over to the building where they're being administered, and we take a piece of paper off of a desk and sign our names. I'm not scared like I thought I'd be. I feel strong and safe in the decision.

  2245 HOURS, OR

  Shift ends and Sergeants Elster and Sellers come in for third shift. They tell us that they too have refused the shots. In fact, aside from Gagney, everyone in the OR has done so. Dozens and dozens of people from our unit have united on the issue: doctors, pharmacists, nurses, specialists, sergeants, colonels, majors, and master sergeants — they've all refused the shots. People have called home and talked to friends who are doctors or who have worked in the drug companies. Without exception, they were all told to not get the shot.

  Colonel Loome, the highest-ranking person in the unit — and the person who suggested a mutiny while in Wisconsin — can be counted among us.

  I've stood up to the Army: “NO. No, you may not put whatever you want in my veins….”

  WEEK 4, DAY 1, IRAQ

  1500 HOURS, OR

  When the statistics came in, it said a third of our unit refused to get the shot. When the GOBs heard about it they had a meeting, and then another with all the section leaders. When Gagney heard about half the unit refusing the shot, and the fact that 100 percent of his soldiers in the OR refused it, he didn't say anything at first; he just told us all to be at the OR at 1700.

  1700 HOURS, OR

  Gagney's reaction to the boycott of the anthrax shots:

  “This is UN-FUCKING-BELIEVABLE!! My section is the only section that has 100 percent of the people refuse the shot! Listen to me! Getting this shot is a direct order from Colonel Jelly. Now I am also giving you a direct order: You get the shot. Are you trying to make me look bad!?! Is that it!?! Is that why you're refusing the shot!?! It's a shot! Let me tell you something. They'll prosecute you! I was at their meeting. You are refusing a direct order during a time of WAR! You can be fined and put in JAIL!!! YOU WILL BE FINED AND PUT IN JAIL. I will then make it my personal mission to make your lives a living hell! I can't even look at any of you.”

  “Oh yeah! Mandatory classes for anyone who refused the anthrax shot. Two different times for the next three days, you will make it to all of them.” He slams the door.

  No one says anything. During our research we only studied the effects of getting the shot. Now we've heard the effects of not getting the shot. Refusing a direct order during a time of war does mean a fine; it also really does mean jail.

  WEEK 4, DAY 2, IRAQ

  1700 HOURS, ANTHRAX CLASS

  One of the GOBs teaches the class. His method is to read from the pamphlet. I want to call him a thousand names. I want to tell him to look at our research. I want to call him a liar. But I sit quietly in my chair. The two doctors sitting next to me are also unimpressed. They don't seem to like him. No one likes the GOBs except the GOBs.

  The consequences of not getting the anthrax shot:

  “Colonel Jelly has ordered you to get this shot. That is a direct order from your unit commander. If you refuse to take the shot, best-case scenario, you will be kicked out of the Army with a dishonorable discharge — which follows you around like a felony — and fined thousands of dollars. Worst-case scenario … you will go to jail.

  ”I look around and I see colonels, majors, captains, sergeants, staff sergeants, doctors, and nurses. People look scared, the GOB looks happy.

  “Some of you have been in the military for twenty years; some have been in for two years. Let me tell you this. If you refuse this shot you will lose all your benefits that you've worked so hard for. To the doctors out there, the Army paid for your schooling. You will have to pay that back. Those that have been in for twenty years and were planning on retiring, you can kiss your retirement goodbye. For those of you that were planning on going to school, no free tuition or GI Bill. Stop and think. Is refusing the shot really worth it? You deserve all the benefits you've received. You've worked hard to get to where you are now. Don't throw everything down the drain.”

  1800 HOURS, OR

  “I don't want to lose my college benefits. I don't want to go to jail or lose pay,” I say.

  Reto stands. I can see in his eyes that he's already had these thoughts.

  “Listen, man, I'll cover you. Go home and get some rest. Think things through. I'm refusing the shot no matter what. But I've got to tell you, I just talked to Hudge, and everyone else from the OR got the shot today. Denti, Elster, Waters. It's only you and me left,” he says.

  When I leave, I don't want Reto to see the weakness in my eyes. I smoke half a pack of cigarettes on the way to the room; once there, I down three sleeping pills and lay in bed.

  For all I've said, for all I've not been able to do and hated it, I want someone to make this decision for me.

  WEEK 4, DAY 3, IRAQ

  0645 HOURS, SLEEPING AREA

  Even people who have already received the shot, as well as those who have refused the anthrax shot, are required to attend Colonel Jelly's second meeting. People from down south will be there, including Staff Sergeant North. They received the shots a month ago and will be talking about it. Jelly is getting in trouble for so many of his soldiers refusing; I guess it looks bad when so many people from a medical unit are refusing to get a shot.

  I laugh. Waking up this morning — from being so torn last night — and then hearing about the new meeting, my mind can't seem to handle everything that's going on and I just laugh. I laugh at the fact that we are fighting a war for freedom, and yet if we don't allow people to inject a potentially lethal liquid into our veins, we are being threatened with
jail time. It's nothing if not ironic, and Reto is cracking up now, too.

  0715 HOURS, AUDITORIUM

  We are the last people to show up for the meeting, so we quietly make our way to the back of the room and sit down. Colonel Jelly has already read through the pamphlet and is again explaining the consequences of not taking the shot. He is also addressing the soldiers who have already gotten the shots and telling them not to let their friends throw their careers down the drain.

  “Hey buddy, don't throw your career down the toilet.” It's Reto. “Get the shot.” I look at him and laugh. A soldier in front of me turns around; she smiles at Reto and then frowns at me. Colonel Jelly continues talking.

  “Soldiers! I don't need to tell you again that this is a direct order. So let me just read you a list of the consequences for refusing the shots and a direct order during a time of war.” Colonel Jelly says more of the same old. He adds that we will be dishonorably discharged from the military and that it will follow us around like a criminal record. His own recommendation is to push for the worst possible punishment:

  “Refuse the shot the final time and you will most likely end up in jail. If you and a friend are both refusing the shot, make sure you're good friends because you could be sharing a jail cell. But really people, I want you to understand, the shots are safe. And to prove it we have Staff Sergeant North up here from our southern hospital who will tell us about their experiences with the shots.”