I’m going to tell you a story. A true story about a great Ranger friend and his experience overseas in combat as a medic. In the special operations world it is hard enough being a door-kicker, or assaulter, or shooter, or whatever the hell you want to call it. But the toughest job in my opinion is being the guy who even the hardest men scream for when they lay broken and battered in the dirt on a far away objective in some shit hole corner of the world – the Ranger medic.

My good friend shared a story with me, which I now want to share with you.

“Hey Doc, wake up!”

“I wasn’t…”

I didn’t even finish saying “I wasn’t sleeping” – the door slammed shut and Josh had moved on to wake up the next “CHU.” A CHU was an 8×8 cell, similar to a Conex box, that we lived in while working in Tikrit, Iraq. It stands for “Containerized Housing Unit.” NCOs and officers got their own, while the privates typically had to double up. Even with two overgrown Ranger privates in an 8×8 room, it was still hands down the best living conditions that I had experienced on any of my deployments. These kids today just don’t know how good they have it.

This must be important, Josh usually talks shit for at least a couple of minutes. I glance over at the clock. It’s 16:00, so most of our guys were just waking up. I poked my head out of the door to see a handful of guys headed to the makeshift plywood JOC facility (Joint Operations Command).

“What’s up??”