
This is a true story, based on actual events that happened to me some time ago.
I hope to be composing a follow-up story in the near future,
in order to bring some sort of closure to it.
My first Active Duty station of assignment was with the 22nd Infantry Regiment in the 4th Infantry Division. I was initially assigned to the Headquarters Company (HQ) along with the rest of the Medical Platoon, where my responsibilities as a Combat Medic were to help with sick-call on a three week rotation with the rest of the junior enlisted Medics. After one year of training with the HQ, my Platoon Sergeant decided that I should go down to a line unit and sent me to Charlie Company (C) to perform as a Platoon Medic.
Responsibilities of a Platoon Medic are much heavier than that of a HQ Medic. 30 personnel is the minimum that you would ever see, each one as a single duty to ensure they are healthy and fit for combat. With me as number 40 for the Platoon, I can assure you that life was never more interesting. Each Squad would go to at least one training operation per week, and by the end of each week the entire Platoon would go out at one time. It never failed, by the end of any given day or mission, I would have to hook up an IV to at least one of my crazy, gun-carrying, flat-footed friends.