Kiskaden recalls serving his country as medic

Robert Kiskaden, U.S. Army 1992-1996, US Army Reserves 1996-2000. Rank-Specialist, job- Combat Medic. Persian Gulf service in Saudi Arabia during Operation Desert Falcon, Aug-Dec 1993. This picture was taken at the Kuwait City airport. We were doing medical evacuation missions that day with the Air Force and this plane was an air ambulance.

Zero five-thirty, Dhahran, Saudi Arabia, August 1993. I was sleeping somewhat comfortably in my room at Khobar Towers and heard a loud, resonating moan break the silence. It started out low, and then built in volume, kind of like an old siren. Immediately, I jumped out of bed and looked toward the window, fully expecting to see the streaks of tracer rounds lighting up the sky. I didn’t know what was going on, but I knew it wasn’t anything I had experienced ever before. My roommate, Kirk, heard me and asked what was going on. I told him I had no idea that it had to be a SCUD alarm going off. Kirk sat up and listened to the noise that now sounded like a chanting song more than anything. With a smile, he told me to “relax, it’s the morning prayers. They do this five times a day here.” Kirk had been in country a few weeks before me, so he had already been through this ordeal; I was sure that there was a SCUD coming down upon us, though.

My first duty day at Khobar consisted of adjusting to the climate and getting familiar with the clinic setting. Our medical commander for the clinic was Captain Kungys, who was the chief medical officer at the Darmstadt Army Clinic in Germany. Our executive officer was First Lieutenant Balser, who worked at another clinic in Germany. They, along with SFC Bechtel, made up the chain of command for the Khobar Army Clinic. The medic platoon had been split up with some going to Riyadh, so it wasn’t too crowded. Martinez and I would continue to be Bravo Battery’s medics as we had been before. Our duties would be split between clinic duty and tactical site duty. The clinic would be accessible 24 hours with two medics on shift, and then we would have the following 24 hours off duty. The third day would be tactical site duty, which meant we would have to go to a Patriot Missile site out in the desert and provide medical coverage all day, and sometimes all night. There wasn’t really any in processing we had to do; all of that was mostly done prior to our arrival. Almost right off the bat, a guy came into the clinic complaining of stomach pain and diarrhea. To this point, I had never really worked in a clinical setting, other than a simulated scenario at Fort Sam. Any patient care I had done was in the field, and the most serious case was Allison’s busted nose. Specialist Donnelly instructed me how to check the patient in and get his medical file. We had all the files broken down into what battery they were part of and by platoon. Once his file was pulled, we went back to the exam room where the patient told more in detail what his ailment was. I took his vital signs as Donnelly documented in the medical chart. We then took his chart from the exam room to Lt. Balser, who reviewed the chart and came out to do a more thorough exam. After a quick exam, Lt. Balser ordered us to give the soldier an IV and prescribed some medications. Donnelly went back to the dispensary to gather the guy’s medications while I prepared to start an IV. I had only started one IV since medical school, so I was a bit nervous, especially with Lt. Balser standing by me. I attempted once and wasn’t successful. I was beyond nervous the next attempt, and I think Lt. Balser noticed. He looked at the patient’s arm and felt for a good vein and said, “Ahhh, you have those big, rolling veins that are hard to poke.” He pointed one out and said to try it, looked at me and winked. I knew he was easing my tension and giving a good excuse for my inexperience. Sure enough, the IV went in without problem and my tension dissipated. The soldier even told me that was a “good stick” and fairly painless to him. I felt good after hearing that and was pretty confident. Lt. Balser told me to make sure I gave the patient fluids until he urinated and he should relax. And that was pretty much it for that patient care.

Donnelly showed me where to get the medications for dispensing and how to count out the pills prescribed. We didn’t have any really strong medications, just general pain relievers and other things. There were also surgical items, such as stitches, chest tubes, and basic surgical kits. We would be able to access any of those items to assist the docs if needed. I hadn’t been in the clinic 24 hours and already felt like a true medic. I checked on my patient sometime later and his IV bag was running low. I asked if he needed to urinate and he replied no. Lt. Balser told me to hang another bag and run the fluids in at a faster rate. I did as I was told and eventually, after three IV bags of fluid, my patient urinated into a collection bottle. After he did that, Lt. Balser told me to check the urine for everything and walked off. I had no idea what he meant, so I followed and asked, with bottle of pee in my hand. Lt. Balser asked if I had ever checked urine before, to which I said I hadn’t. He handed me a bottle of pH test strips and another device that resembled a scope of some sort, the pH strips would test the chemical balance of the urine, and the scope was to check the density of the urine, or specific gravity. If the pH was in a certain range and the specific gravity were around 30 that could indicate severe dehydration. Another lesson learned--this was going to be a great deployment after all.

After my first patient was cleared to leave, I cleaned up the area and felt motivated. Unfortunately, the day would prove to be rather uneventful for any further patient care. SFC Becthel showed me around the facility a little more and took me outside to the ambulance area. I would be assigned an ambulance, much like back at Shipton, but not a HUMVEE type. The ambulance I was assigned was a GMC truck painted green with a big box on the back with a large red cross painted on the sides. This truck had to have been from the mid 80s. After I did the PMCS on it, SFC Bechtel showed me some other areas of the complex. Our building was nestled in between some other buildings that backed up to a roadway that split Khobar Towers. A small patch of desert and some concrete barricades separated the roadway from the buildings and not much else. Of course we were in peacetime, just under a cease-fire operation. It was brutally hot that day, along the lines of 118 degrees. Part of our duties would include doing what was called a wet bulb reading to determine the relative humidity versus the temperature. This measurement also determined how long a soldier could stay in the superheated conditions and perform regular duty. It was explained to me that the wet bulb reading would help us regulate the work load on soldiers and how they would sweat; if the measurement indicated a certain level, the sweat a body used to cool would evaporate causing heat stroke and possibly death. SFC Bechtel showed all of us how to perform this task, one we would do in hourly increments starting at 0600, until the wet bulb reached the black measuring line. Our demonstration clearly showed that it would be considered a ‘black day.’ Each medic would be issued one to take to the tactical site and this would be the lone tool to set the pace for daily activities for the site.

As the day went on, we toured surrounding areas such as the shops and Domino’s Pizza place, which were located in an underground facility that was probably a bunker structure. Inside the shopping area, there was a gold market, Domino’s, a barbershop, a souvenir store with paintings and rugs, and a music store. I instantly went into the music store to see what was available. In Saudi Arabia, the currency is the Riyal, in which the rate versus the American Dollar was 3.75. This meant that items were relatively cheap to buy. Like Germany, most stores took dollars and did the ratio conversion without any issues. The music store was lined with cassette tapes and very few CD’s. The tapes, however, looked far different than American tapes. They were in heavy plastic cases and the artwork was far different than domestic releases. Another change was that most tapes were ‘best of’ compilations of random songs by an artist, usually 20 or more songs, and very obviously bootlegged. The tapes were roughly three dollars, much better than the seven they were going for in the United States when I left. This would be a regular stop for me in the months to come.

We left the shops and walked over toward the chow hall, which was a small-prefabricated building that sat almost in the middle of the Khobar facility we occupied. As we walked, I noticed outside every building, there was a volleyball pit; they were everywhere. The air in Khobar was just so stale and smelled foul. The best way I can describe it was as I said before... a landfill. We walked into the chow hall and it kind of reminded me of the one at Fort Sam. There was a mix of Army and Air Force personnel in there, and some with uniforms I didn’t recognize. I would learn that those were the British and French Air Force guys, which occupied another part of Khobar Towers.

The food wasn’t too bad at the chow hall, a bit better than back at Shipton, but the smell as soon as we walked out kind of ruined the enjoyment of the meal. Directly across from the chow hall was a pool, which had a deck all around it and was very crowded. With the heat, that pool was a saving grace, I’m sure. We met back at the clinic, where CPT Kungys told us to get ready to head out to another site called Lucky Base. We piled into an SUV waiting out back and headed out of the security checkpoints into the vast emptiness. Off to our right was the airport and air base we flew into, to the left, not much of anything but brown and tan Earth. We traveled down a divided highway past a tactical site that had Patriot Missile launchers positioned for defense. I had seen this before back in Germany, but this was different, it was real world and not just a field exercise.

We arrived at Lucky Base after about a 15-minute drive. This facility was out in the middle of nowhere and was not much more than prefab buildings grouped together. This was where the command section was housed, and further down, Alpha Battery was positioned for defense. There was an aid station located at Lucky Base that was about the size of the one at Shipton. One medic would be stationed there 24 hours daily, seven days a week. There was very little to do at Lucky Base it seemed, so we would have to bring movies or reading material to occupy us while there. The tactical sites operated day in, day out. The ready platoon would rotate soldiers during their tour of duty every four hours, then rotate platoons every week. There was little sleep on the site for those on watch, but it meant the skies were protected above us.

I felt that I had put in a full day of activity, and then looked at my watch in disbelief as it showed it was only 1500 hours when we left Lucky Base. I also felt dirty because of the sand and sweat; this was nothing like field duty in Germany. When we got back to Khobar Clinic, I was told to check the duty roster for shift assignment. While inside, I noticed another soldier with an IV lying in the exam room--another victim of the elements. I was scheduled to go out on the tactical site the following day from 0800-1700 hours. We would still be required to do PT at 0500 every morning as usual, which would totally suck due to the environment. By 1700 hours this first day, we were ready to attend our end of day formation. First Sergeant Banks gave us our safety briefing and welcomed those of us who were new in country. The formation didn’t last long and we were dismissed for the day. I went back to the building and went upstairs to clean up and change. Martinez, Lewis, and Smith were all filing in behind me; Cowden and Peschke were downstairs in the clinic. We had two bathrooms in our living area; so waiting for a shower was common. All in all, the rooms at Khobar Towers were really nice, very laid back. The room I shared with Kirk was spacious and had a sofa, two chairs and two big wall lockers in addition to our beds. I had the bed closest to the window, which faced the inner part of Khobar. I could look out at see the air base off in the distance and could see the fighter jets darting off into the skies. I could also see the large minaret that towered above a mosque near the entrance to the facility. I hadn’t really seen anything like this ever before; it was desolate, yet inspiring.

After taking a shower, Jeremy, Martinez and I went to the chow hall and to see what else was around Khobar. It was around 1830 hours and still hot out, however the sun was behind some of the towers and not directly upon us like before. After chow, we wandered around just taking in the sights. Some Air Force guys were playing volleyball and were quite into the game, which reminded me of the Top Gun movie scene. We came upon another underground bunker like structure that had a sign indicating it was a recreational room. Upon entering, there were pool tables, air hockey tables, foosball games and some other arcade type games. It reminded me of Gateway Video Store back home. On the walls, there were murals painted from different Air Force units, some depicting a combat duty scoreboard and others the unit’s designated insignia. There was a jukebox blasting out some of the latest music over in the corner and several guys milling about. Around the corner, there was a club-like area with a dance floor, DJ booth and tables set up. There wasn’t anyone around that area and no music was playing, but the place had great potential for an escape in the daily activities.

Inside the recreational center, they offered food and drinks; items like hot dogs, chips, soda and ‘near beer’. Near beer was basically a non-alcoholic malt drink that resembled beer, just without the kick. That was going to be another down part of the deployment...the sobriety. We were briefed extensively before we left Shipton on the subject of no drinking while in Saudi. For one, we were still operating under combative conditions and two; the locals frowned upon alcohol, as it was against their religious beliefs. My escape from boredom and general stress was drinking, now I would need to find another outlet, and hope my liver didn’t go into complete shock.

Martinez, Jeremy and I shot a few games of pool and left after about an hour or so. It was getting late and 0500 would come early. Even though it was after dark, the air was still stale and muggy. The temperature had fallen to about 80-85 degrees and there was a slight breeze that whipped between the towers. As we were walking back to our tower, there was a truck that resembled a street sweeper emitting a plume of white smoke behind it. It looked like rocket exhaust rather than just a faulty motor or anything. As it got closer, the breeze pushed some of the white fog in our direction and the effect was instant. Immediately, there was a burning sensation in my nose and my eyes watered; the smell was like burning diesel fuel or something. The three of us quickly picked up pace and darted into our tower. Martinez asked, “what the Hell was that?” None of us had a clue, and to us, it could have been a chemical attack for all we knew. We ran inside and began to wash ourselves down, thinking the worst. After a few minutes, we realized that we weren’t going to die in a convulsing and choking death and went onto the balcony, seven stories above everything. We noticed the truck weaving through the complex, and the fog creeping around every nook and hanging in the air for several minutes. That was something very out of the ordinary, but we weren’t sure if we needed to report it. We watched as the truck faded from view and there was no alarm or any security mobilizing, so it must have been routine. All I knew is that the ordeal gave me quite a reality check, and the effects would eventually surpass just the eye and nose irritations.

Before I turned in for the night, I sat down and wrote two letters, one for mom and the other for Moni. We had our new address already established, but mail, we were told, would be slow for a while until everything got adjusted. We were also told to be wary of what we wrote home about, as our mail could be intercepted and read at any given time to insure we weren’t giving tactical details of our location or mission to anyone. I wrote in both letters that I had arrived safely and it was truly a foreign place. It was just a big, empty place, I wrote and one I wasn’t sure I could adjust to. My letters were short and simple, mainly an acknowledgement of my existence. I turned in for the night, the first, busy day behind me.

Morning PT always sucked. In Germany, it was the bitter cold at that early hour, at Khobar, it was the building heat and smell that made PT grueling. By 0500, the atmosphere was already becoming thick and the temperature was near 80 degrees. The truck that we saw the night before had made its rounds shortly before our PT formation, so the fog was still in the air, just not as thick. We did the usual routine of calisthenics then started the run. The route was basically a big square around Khobar Towers and equaled roughly 2.5-3 miles and ran along the perimeter road that bordered the complex, just behind the fence and barricades. We would run through the Air Force section of Khobar, then back to our area of operations. When HHB ran as a unit, we sounded off; singing cadences rather loudly as we usually did at Shipton. Eventually, our commander notified us at a battalion formation later on that PT would be conducted at 0600 and we weren’t going to sound off any more. Apparently the Air Force Squadron Commander in the back side of Khobar complained we were ‘too motivated’ and was disturbing key personnel who needed their required sleep. To each their own, I guess.

I reported to the clinic at 0730 to begin my first day at the tactical site. I really didn’t have an idea where to go, but CPT Kungys told me to get my ambulance and follow him. We weaved out of the barricaded entry/exit point and headed off in the desert, toward Lucky Base. Bravo Battery’s site was not too far away, and was the one we had passed near the end of the airfield. The ready platoon was already on site; most had been there overnight and was prepping the site for daily activity. Captain Kungys and I were waved through the entry bunker and entered the tactical site. It wasn’t too different than when we were out on field exercises in Germany, but all the netting was desert colored and there were only a couple of tents rather than a tent city. There were bunkers dug into the Earth that were fortified with sand bags and looked like the fire support bases from Vietnam. Some of the guys were filling sand bags off to the side and stacking them on the bunkers. It was already approaching 90+ degrees out and CPT Kungys asked me to do a wet bulb reading on site. It was not quite into the black, but very close. He accompanied me into the command trailer and the first thing he asked was how long those soldiers outside were going to continue to fill sand bags. The lieutenant on duty dodged the question and said that it was necessary to keep the bunkers at a ready state. Sergeant First Class Taylor shook my hand and told me to follow him to where I would be setting up a temporary aid station. Captain Kungys gave me a salute and told me to call if I needed anything then left. I was led to another trailer that had several bunks and a small office space in it. This was the ready trailer, I was told and the ready crews rotated sleep shifts in there. Sergeant First Class Taylor looked at my name tag and struggled to pronounce my name, and when I told him, he said, “shit, soldier that’s too difficult, I’m gonna call you Kiss.” That was funny, because 1SG Franklin called me that from day one. Again, he told me if I needed anything to just find him, then he left. There was no one in the trailer at all. It was air conditioned and comfortable, a little dusty but not unmanageable. I sat my aid bag and rucksack down and just sat there. On site, we were required to bring our full gear with us; all our TA-50, Kevlar, ruck sack loaded down, NBC mask and flak vest. The flak vest was something that was new to us and was issued just prior to our deployment. The vests were very heavy and had protective material inside them to protect us from shrapnel mainly. A round fired from an M-16 probably would have penetrated the vest though. The usual duty dress on site was our regular BDU’s, except on Thursdays when it was sergeant’s time for training. The only thing I didn’t have on site was my weapon; it was still locked up in the armory at Khobar.

Around 0900, I did another wet bulb reading and it was in the black. There was a status board on the outside of the command trailer, so I wrote the results of the reading on it. I also went inside the trailer and told the duty officer, who just kind of acknowledged me and went about his business. I went outside and found SFC Taylor and told him about the conditions and to watch his guys closely. He went to the guys filling sand bags and told them to take it easy and get some rest. I went back into the ready trailer and documented the wet bulb readings and whom I told on a piece of paper. I wasn’t sure if I really needed to do this, but I thought it would help in case I ever needed to look back on what happened on site.

Chow was brought to us in Jerry cans, like they were in basic training when we didn’t do MRE’s. Jerry cans were metal containers that looked like big metal soup cans. Our water supply was out of a big metal tank on a trailer we called a water buffalo. From time to time, I would have to test the water like I had on our field sites back in Germany. That was extremely important due to the desert conditions. Even though the water wasn’t cold to drink, it still was refreshing. There were cases of bottled water on site too, but those were reserved for emergency situations. After chow, it was business as usual on site. I took a few minutes to look around at the site. Above me, the roar of two jet fighters taking off from the nearby airfield caught my attention. They were still low to the ground and I could see they were well armed with missiles on each wing. The jets raced off into the distance staying close together, again, like the movie Top Gun.

“They are going up to the No-Fly Zone,” a voice said from behind. I turned around and it was a fire control sergeant watching the jets fade away too. The No-Fly Zone was an area near the 32nd Parallel in Iraq that was restricted by the UN after Desert Storm. The Iraqi Air Force could not fly into this area, and coalition forces patrolled the region to insure compliance. The mission was called Operation Southern Watch. Any fighter planes or unauthorized flights in the zone could be engaged and shot down. As we watched the planes disappear, the sergeant told me to watch the planes as they came back into the airfield, as they most always had a missile or two gone from their wings. Wait... it was peacetime, wasn’t it?? Little did I know, but a month or so prior to our arrival, there was a skirmish involving US fighter jets and Iraqi radar sites near the No-Fly Zone, and there was always something going on just to our north.

I really didn’t have an eventful duty day, other than one soldier who was brought in to cool down for a few minutes. He didn’t require an IV, but I’m sure had he stayed out any longer he would have needed more vigorous medical attention. The duty day ended and I went back to Khobar well after final formation of the day. I went into the clinic and checked the duty roster; I would have a 24-hour shift the following day. Usually at the end of a duty day, I retreated downtown or somewhere out of Shipton. I didn’t have that option at Khobar. I went down to the music store and bought a couple of tapes, then retreated back to my room. The first couple of days in Saudi Arabia were interesting to say the least. It was a different place and mindset there. My buddies who were usually rowdy and liked to party down were all starting to become focused; the party days were on hold for a few months. As I sat in my room and listened to my newly purchased tapes, I started thinking about where I had been so far, and how far I had came personally. I had a birthday coming up, another one away from home. I wondered how it would have been had I stayed home, or even more, what it would be like to go back for a visit. I was so different than what I was just a short year prior, and I wasn’t too sure if it was for the good or the bad. I left my room and walked out onto the balcony, looking out over the Khobar complex. Far off in the distance I could see the lights of a jet taking off...off into the big empty.

First Lieutenant Balser, Task Force 6/43 ADA’s physician’s assistant.

Sunrise at Khobar Towers