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MILDENHALL, England (2/2/2012) -- "Corpsman up!" rang out like a
shotgun in his ears.
The 7-ton truck he was riding in just
crashed back down after being thrown 5 feet into the air after
hitting an improvised explosive device while on convoy in eastern
Afghanistan.
The smoke and dirt hadn't yet settled, and
former Petty Officer 2nd Class Shawn 'Doc' Dickens strained all his
senses - desperately trying to find the 11 Marines and Soldier who
accompanied him on the convoy.
"Hearing Marines scream
'corpsman up,' is the last thing a corpsman wants to hear because
that means a Marine is hurt," said Marine Sgt. Dickens, who left the
Navy to pursue a career in the Marine Corps after that Afghan
deployment. "As I went from Marine to Marine and assessed the
damage, I blanked out.
"It's not like I didn't know what to
do, but more like I treated everyone - but don't really remember
doing it," continued the former corpsman. "I can remember before,
and have memory once everyone was fixed, but the center is kind of
fuzzy."
Of the 13 men on the convoy, Dickens was the only one
not injured. Sitting next to the spare tire in the truck saved his
life. He remembers seeing the tire later and it was literally
riddled with shrapnel, he said.
After the attack, Dickens
triaged, then treated each and every fellow serviceman on that
Afghan roadside, and can still recall the most-severely wounded
Marine:
"Cpl. Aaron Grossman had taken shrapnel through the
backs of his legs," recalled the former corpsman. "A large piece
literally tore out his calf muscle, while another hit near a major
artery. Had I not removed it, it could have shifted and would have
cut his artery. He'd have bled out in a matter of minutes."
After saving the team members' lives, four were medically evacuated
out of Afghanistan, treated at a stateside hospital, and except one,
all eventually returned to their deployed unit.
Dickens
didn't see Grossman again until he returned home. But, what happened
during post-deployment defines what Sergeant Dickens considers the
most rewarding part of his job as a corpsman.
At their
barracks on Camp Lejeune, N.C., while moving as fast as his crutches
would allow, Grossman scurried up to Dickens' mom, gave her a big
hug and said, "Thank you for having the son you have. If he had not
been there for me when I got hit, I probably wouldn't be able to hug
my own mom anymore."
"Until that point, I just did my job and
didn't think about what I was really doing," recalled Dickens. "But
when I heard that, I knew I was really making a difference."
The former corpsman hails from St. Augustine, Fla., and knew by
his early teenage years that he'd eventually join the Navy. In fact,
he was so eager to follow his rich Naval roots that at a mere 17
years old, his parents signed waivers allowing him to enlist.
His parents weren't surprised by his decision to join either.
After all, Dickens' father, grandfather and step-grandfather were
all in the Navy.
His father was an anti-sub warfare
operator, but spent most of his time as a Sea Air Rescue swimmer and
later a SAR instructor. His grandfather was a corpsman attached to
the Marine Corps during the Korean War, and his step-grandfather was
stationed on a submarine, and was part of the Tonkin Gulf Incident
during the Vietnam Conflict.
"I decided to become a corpsman
because of the stories my grandfather used to tell me," said
Dickens. "I was a first-aid instructor in the Boy Scouts, and have
always been able to handle blood and gore. I figured being a medic
or a corpsman was my best option in life."
Eager to learn all
that the Navy had to offer, Dickens attended every bit of medical or
Marine field training he could - the medical training he hoped would
one day help him save a life, and the field training he hoped would
help him blend in with the Marines he'd be attached to.
"Apparently that big red cross on your forehead turned out to be a
bad idea in combat ... ask the guys from Vietnam," said Dickens
citing that these days the only way to tell the corpsman from a
Marine is the fact that the corpsman has two backpacks instead of
one.
Not only does a corpsman have to look like a Marine, he
must act, think and function like one too. Life, limb and perhaps
sanity depend on it, he said. If a Marine gets injured on the
battlefield, the corpsman has to run through bullets to get to him,
that's his only chance at survival.
Admitting that he's
always been pretty good at being in the military - and that it's
clearly in his blood, Dickens said that perhaps the biggest
annoyance he's had to endure was to attend Marine Corps Recruit
Training.
"After serving with the Marines for almost six
years - even in the combat I described - I still had to earn the
title of a Marine," said Dickens. "But, I'm glad I did it in the
end."
Among fellow Marines, Dickens is still considered
'Doc,' and continues to serve the Navy's medical corps by passing on
his knowledge to his fellow Marines, stating: The more they know,
the more they bring to the fight.
A corpsman is very likely
to get injured or killed running into gunfire and explosions when
everyone else takes cover. But sometimes it isn't the physical scars
that bother a corpsman most, said Dickens.
He recalled one
particular mission when he had to sit helplessly on top of a
mountain and listen over the radio as some of his Marines got into a
fire fight, and were overrun by Taliban fighters.
"Three of
my Marines were on a patrol [June 24, 2004], and came upon a group
of 10 Taliban, who were putting IED's in the road to take out a
convoy," said Dickens. "[The Marines] engaged and, after about 10
minutes of heavy fighting, were overrun."
Two of the Marines,
Lance Cpl. Juston Thacker and Pfc. Daniel McClenney, were wounded in
that battle near Bari Khout, Afghanistan, and later died from their
wounds before treatment could get to them. The other was flown to a
trauma center and survived.
"My pain comes from listening to
them over the radio as they were shot, and knowing that they didn't
have a corpsman with them - knowing that they had no chance at
survival," said Dickens. "I still beat myself up over the fact that
I wasn't there to save them.
"This pain was later compounded
when I had to see their parents at the memorial service and knew
that I could have saved their sons - had I been there," he
continued. "Looking into a mother's eyes and telling her that you're
sorry for her loss while in the back of your head you know she
wouldn't have lost anything if you were there, is something I'll
never wish on anyone."
That was perhaps the toughest day in
Dickens' life. It was then and there he decided to leave the Navy
and join the Marines. Dickens is currently assigned to the Marine
Corps Recruit Depot Public Affairs, San Diego, Calif.
 Though
his scars are emotional ones, they are now forever manifested on his
body in the form of a tattoo. The former corpsman said that all he
has to do is look at his leg at any time and he's instantly reminded
of Thacker and McClenney - and why he joined the Marines.
"There's an unparalleled brotherhood between corpsmen and Marines,"
said Dickens. "This clearly comes from professional corpsmen who are
dedicated to their brothers and flawless in the execution of what
they must continue to do."
By USAF Tech. Sgt. Kevin Wallace
100th Air Refueling Wing
Public Affairs
Provided
through DVIDS
Copyright 2012
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