Judy Little
Imagine having to leave the comfort and security of home and bid farewell to life as you know it. Imagine being cast into the horrors of war, inadequately trained and inadequately prepared; where everything you thought you knew about yourself is tested.
"As a wife, mother, grandmother and career woman I was heavily engaged in life and loving it. I was also a navy nurse corps reservist. I served believing that we reservists were being trained to relieve active duty counterparts as they moved forward in deployment; this, in the event of a national emergency requiring a call to arms.
I was recruited into the military for the purpose of teaching operating room nursing skills. But, the onset of war in the Middle East changed all the rules. As a member of the reserve military I was bound to follow, without question.
I was not expecting to be called to serve in a fleet hospital; positioned as the forward most medical support system within the gulf war zone. And, I quickly became aware that I was no longer an individual; free to function with independent thinking. I was a member of a mobilized reserve unit and working to adapt to the military mind set. I was committed to serving at the discretion of my designated superiors; where the criteria to lead was based solely on rank."
This book is taken from the author's diary entries and letters; written when she was a deployed reservist in the first gulf war. The message here is as relevant today as it was then and will be in future wars where there is American participation and military reservists are deployed as its primary fighting force.
Judy Little has been writing short stories and poetry since elementary school. Following college, her career as a registered nurse demanded she develop her technical writing skills and when she secured her dream job as a nurse educator in the operating room, she was ready.When she decided to scratch the itch to do more than write training manuals and procedure text, the result was an award winning Christmas fantasy series that she created for her grandchildren. She was hooked. Since her "semi-retirement," writing has bloomed to a passion leading to the penning of two more books. Now, she presents her own story in another literary winner, an adult memoir; "The Warrior Family."
February 17, 1991
“Scary! We had a scud attack last night. I was at work in the supply core for the O.R. and the siren went off again, four hours after we’d had a drill. So at first, we thought it was another drill. We rushed to the place in CSR-ISO, #1 where our gas masks were hanging and put them on. We knew that we had ten seconds to get them on and functioning from the time we heard the alarm. When we’re working in the unit we can’t work with our utility belts or gas masks on because they get in the way, so we hang them in a spot that we can get to in a hurry.
The O.R. nurse on duty, and my superior in this situation, handled it very well. She directed us to put on our masks, counted us all, and then we all went into CSR #2; our designated safety spot. Suddenly we heard a loud Ba-Boom, felt the ground shake and we knew it was real. We were really frightened because we know how vulnerable we are. The ISOs and tents are no protection at all against a missile if it hits us. There are no bunkers here on the compound.
Then, a voice on the overhead loud speaker in the core announced that we were being attacked. How they knew that I don’t know. Scud missiles being shot over us is a common occurrence now, but last night it seemed that they were directed at us.
The seven of us lay down on the floor of the ISO. There wasn’t room to huddle in a group, so we formed a human chain of sorts around and between the work table, sterilizers and supply shelves. We stayed connected by laying in a fetal position on our sides, holding each others hand; one reaching down, the other reaching up. Everything around us was silent. No one talked as we listened for the voice on the intercom, but some of the girls cried, and some prayed. For me; it was strange, I didn’t feel anything. I decided that what would happen, would happen no matter what I did, so I was calm as I laid there and just listened, returning the squeeze of my hands by my comrades at head and foot. We heard that disembodied male voice periodically over the loud speaker telling us to stay where we were and remain calm. There was a count down of some sort and then, a shout of success. When the ‘all clear’ sounded we got up and hugged each other. This morning we talked to people who had been in the tents asleep (the attack was around 0200). Some had gone outside so they actually saw the scuds. There were two scuds we found out. Our Patriot launched some missiles at them but they said that they missed. Thankfully, one scud went into the gulf, some fifteen miles away. The other one, apparently, just blew up over our heads; they don’t know why yet, but it was sure lucky for us. All in all it was a SCARY experience. Now we know for sure that we’re on Hussein’s list of targets. Quite often at meals we talk to the marines that guard us. They told us that our hospital is a prime terrorist target. But they (Hussein’s people), would like to get us when we’ve got a lot of patients. Last night was practice for them. Happy thought!
