Master's Report: The Long Haul Fall 2008


 
 
 Copyright
 
 By
 
 C.
Patrick
Michels
 
 2008


 



 The
Long
Haul:
 For
civilian
contractors
injured
in
Iraq,
 the
real
fight
begins
after
coming
home.
 
 Report
 
 Presented
to
the
Faculty
of
the
Graduate
School
 of
the
University
of
Texas
at
Austin
 in
Partial
Fulfillment
 of
the
Requirements
 for
the
Degree
of
 
 Master
of
Arts,
Journalism
 
 The
University
of
Texas
at
Austin
 December
2008


The
Report
committee
for
C
Patrick
Michels
 Certifies
that
this
is
the
approved
version
of
the
following
report:
 
 


The
Long
Haul:
 For
civilian
contractors
injured
in
Iraq,
 the
real
fight
begins
after
coming
home.
 
 
 APPROVED
BY
 SUPERVISING
COMMITTEE
 
 Supervisor:


_______________________________________________
 













Dennis
C.
Darling



 ________________________________________________
 Cheryl
A.
Lehman
 





The
Long
Haul:
 For
civilian
contractors
injured
in
Iraq,
 the
real
fight
begins
after
coming
home.
 
 by
 
 C
Patrick
Michels,
MA
Journalism
 The
University
of
Texas
at
Austin,
2008
 Supervisor:
Dennis
C.
Darling
 
 Former
civilian
contractors
injured
or
traumatized
while
working
in
Iraq
face
 a
 slew
 of
 challenges
 when
 they
 return
 home—physical
 injuries
 and
 mental
 ones,
 along
 with
 unprecedented
 legal
 challenges
 securing
 benefits
 from
 an
 overworked
 support
system
of
federal
labor
courts
and
private
insurers.
Of
the
people
I
met,
the
 vast
 majority
 were
 former
 truckers—the
 most
 risky
 job
 in
 Iraq
 after
 security
 contractors—but
 my
 project
 also
 includes
 a
 police
 trainer
 from
 South
 Dakota,
 a
 prison
warden
from
Las
Vegas,
and
an
air
conditioner
repairman
from
East
Texas.
 Some
 were
 healing
 well
 from
 physical
 injuries;
 some
 continued
 to
 struggle
 with
 psychological
 wounds
 that
 kept
 them
 out
 of
 work
 and
 wreaked
 havoc
 on
 their
 families.
 Many
 are
 stuck
 in
 prolonged
 battles
 over
 health
 insurance
 claims
 that
 could
easily
outlast
the
war
itself.
Nearly
everyone
I
spoke
with
worried
about
being
 branded
a
war
profiteer
or
a
mercenary,
and
many
said
they
were
let
down
by
the
 private
 support
 system
 they’d
 been
 promised,
 just
 when
 they
 needed
 it
 most.
 I
 thank
the
UT
Documentary
Center
for
its
help
with
this
ongoing
project.


TABLE
OF
CONTENTS
 I.


Introduction.
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 II.


Survey
of
Issues
Surrounding
Wounded
Contractors’
Care.
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3
 III.


Contractor
Profiles.
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18
 


Preston
Wheeler
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Art
Faust
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Terry
Steward
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.40





David
Boiles.
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Russell
Skoug
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.45





Robert
Rowe
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48





Clyde
Nipper
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51





Fred
Gaus
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54





Eddie
Barker
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57





Wallace
McNabb
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60





Tate
Mallory.
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63





Clyde
Nipper
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66


IV.


Appendix:
Selected
Interview
Transcripts
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 V.


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120
 VI.


Vita.
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122





I.
Introduction
 Why
risk
your
life
for
a
paycheck?
 


That’s
 the
 question
 that
 sparked
 my
 reporting
 on
 injured
 civilian


contractors—maybe
not
too
profound,
and
certainly
it’s
a
question
you
could
ask
of
 many
 people
 with
 dangerous
 jobs.
 But
 the
 size
 of
 the
 private
 workforce
 in
 Iraq
 is
 proof
 that
 the
 war
 has
 given
 thousands
 of
 people—men
 and
 women
 who’d
 never
 have
considered
such
dangerous
work—the
chance
to
weigh
such
a
decision.
 Over
 the
 past
 18
 months,
 my
 reporting
 on
 injured
 civilian
 contractors
 has
 taken
countless
twists,
shown
me
intense
moments
in
the
lives
of
others,
and
hinted
 at
vast
problems
in
the
systems
built
for
their
support.
 Every
 stop
 I
 made
 in
 a
 new
 city
 was
 a
 new
 lesson
 in
 how
 people
 cope.
 Because
 placing
 blame
was
 so
 important
to
many
I
 met,
 I
 heard
plenty
 of
 theories
 about
how
the
deck
was
stacked
against
individual
workers;
how
company
culture
 encouraged
 cutthroat
 behavior
 in
 Iraq;
 and
 how
 depressing
 it
 was
 to
 discover
 private
companies
dealt
no
more
generously
with
their
workers
back
home.
 The
 financial
 and
 moral
 wrongdoing
 swirling
 around
 our
 early
 reconstruction
 efforts
 in
 Iraq
 have
 been
 well
 documented
 ‐‐
 though
 baffling
 new
 reports
on
those
first
few
“boomtown”
years
in
contracting
still
seem
to
break
every
 month.
 The
 paper
 trails
 from
 that
 time
 are
 a
 fascinating
 study
 in
 collective
 irresponsibility,
and
I
could
have
spent
this
much
time
just
reading
others’
work
and
 trying
 to
 make
 sense
 of
 the
 fascinating
 way
 in
 which
 the
 U.S.
 government
 and
 its
 private
contractors
have
spent
money
in
Iraq
since
2004.
 Of
 course,
 that
 would
 make
 a
 lousy
 photography
 project,
 and
 it
 would’ve
 been
 difficult
 to
 do
 well
 as
 a
 student
 working
 without
 the
 clout
 of
 a
 news





1


organization
 (though
 some
 independent
 journalists
 have
 done
 great
 financial
 and
 political
reporting
on
private
contracting).
In
reporting
this
project,
I’ve
spoken
with
 lawyers
 and
 judges,
 physical
 therapists
 and
 psychiatrists,
 representatives
 of
 insurance
 and
 contracting
 corporations,
 workers’
 rights
 activists
 and
 reform‐ minded
lawmakers.
Those
conversations
all
inform
my
writing,
but
in
the
end
I
hope
 my
project
succeeds
as
a
collection
of
personal
portraits,
written
and
photographed.
 
 


I
 quickly
 found
 my
 initial
 question—why
 risk
 so
 much
 for
 a
 job?—didn’t


interest
contractors
very
much.
For
one,
I
often
heard
it
wasn’t
a
question
of
money
 at
all—more
often,
people
told
me
patriotism,
family
or
adventure
were
the
reasons
 they
went
to
Iraq.
Of
course,
they
often
said,
good
money
made
the
decision
easier.
 For
contractors
who
worked
in
the
war’s
early
years,
they
weighed
the
risks
 a
 long
 time
 ago,
 and
 long
 ago
 had
 settled
 on
 their
 answer
 to
 the
 “why”
 question.
 They’d
had
time
to
craft
an
answer
they
could
trust.
 Not
one
contractor
I
spoke
with
told
me
they
felt
they’d
made
a
bad
decision
 by
going.
Some
regretted
nothing
at
all,
and
were
looking
forward
to
going
back
to
 work
 at
 the
 war.
 Most
 said
 they’d
 been
 cheated
 or
 lied
 to
 somewhere
 along
 the
 way—they
 regretted
 signing
 on
 to
 work
 in
 Iraq,
 but
 only
 because
 it
 wasn’t
 what
 they’d
been
told.
 A
second,
more
interesting
question
quickly
emerged
in
my
interviews:
now
 that
 you’re
 back
 home,
 haunted
 by
 grisly
 memories
 or
 physical
 pain,
 burdened
 by
 unpayable
bills
and
a
sense
of
injustice,
how
do
you
go
on?
 The
 answer
 to
 that
 question
 showed
 in
 how
 the
 injured
 workers
 chose
 to
 spend
 their
 days,
 who
 they
 chose
 to
 blame,
 how
 they
 spoke
 to
 their
 wives
 and
 family,
what
they
wrote,
what
made
them
laugh,
and
how
they
looked
into
a
camera,
 isolated
in
the
frame.





2





II.
Survey
of
Issues
Surrounding
Wounded
Contractors’
Care
 Contracting
in
the
Iraq
War:
Overview
 Going
 back
 all
 the
 way
 to
 the
 Revolutionary
 War,
 the
 United
 States
 has
 supplemented
 its
 military
 forces
 with
 private
 contracted
 labor.i
 At
 times,
 those
 private
contractors
have
included
mercenaries
hired
to
fight,
but
far
more
often
the
 private
 contractors
 are
 simply
 hired
 for
 logistical
 support:
 runway
 construction,
 detailed
 scientific
 work
 or
 laundry
 service
 for
 the
 troops—jobs
 seen
 as
 either
 too
 menial
or
too
skilled
for
soldiers.
 Since
 the
 U.S.
 invasion
 of
 Iraq
 in
 2003,
 this
 country
 has
 used
 more
 civilian
 contractors
 than
 ever
 before,
 a
 continuation
 of
 the
 growth
 in
 private
 contracting
 during
the
Balkan
crisis
in
the
1990s.ii
 A
 March
 2008
 report
 by
 the
 Government
 Accountability
 Office
 included
 a
 count
of
163,950
private
contractors
working
in
Iraqiii;
an
October
2008
report
by
 the
New
America
Foundation,
which
included
extensive
surveys
and
research
in
the
 public
and
private
sector,
put
the
number
closer
to
190,000.
A
study
by
the
Houston
 Chronicle,
drawing
on
Department
of
Labor
and
iCasualties.org
statistics,
along
with
 other
research,
put
the
total
death
toll
for
civilian
contractors
(of
all
nationalities)
at
 1,123—about
one
quarter
the
number
of
American
troops
killed
in
Iraq.
 The
most
vivid,
familiar
images
of
private
contracting
to
most
Americans
are
 the
 well‐armed
 Blackwater
 commandos
 of
 the
 private
 security
 realm,
 or
 the
 executives
at
Halliburton
and
much
smaller
subcontractors
who
make
headlines
for
 their
wasteful
spending,
shoddy
work
and
dishonest
billing
practices.
 To
 stop
 there,
 however,
 is
 to
 grossly
 misrepresent
 the
 face
 of
 private
 contracting
 in
 Iraq.
 The
 security
 contractors
 in
 Iraq
 today,
 12,258
 by
 one
 recent





3


count,iv
make
up
a
small
fraction
of
the
total
private
workforce
supporting
the
U.S.
 mission
 there;
 executives
 making
 deals,
 both
 honest
 and
 crooked,
 are
 even
 fewer.
 Most
are
workers
hired
because
they
have
the
basic
skills
and
experience
that
fit
the
 logistical
 demands
 of
 one
 country
 trying
 to
 rebuild
 another:
 mechanics,
 cooks
 and
 truckers.
 In
exchange
for
risking
their
lives
to
be
in
Iraq,
contractors
are
well
paid
for
 their
 work,
 almost
 always
 better
 than
 their
 previous
 jobs
 and
 better
 than
 any
 job
 they
could
return
to
back
home.
For
those
who
avoid
injury,
it’s
lucrative
work,
and
 many
opt
back
in
for
second
and
third
years
abroad.
 
Injured
contractors,
however,
tend
to
return
home
worse
off
than
they
left— physically,
of
course,
but
also
mentally
and
financially.
While
support
networks
have
 been
in
place
for
decades,
the
sheer
number
of
contractors
coming
home
injured
is
 straining
 the
 system,
 creating
 slowdowns
 in
 vital
 insurance
 and
 workers’
 compensation
processes
these
men
and
women
depend
on.
 The
public
and
private
support
systems
have
matured
considerably
since
the
 war
began
more
than
five
years
ago,
but
the
legal
battles
will
continue
long
past
the
 war’s
eventual
conclusion.
As
U.S.
forces
look
increasingly
toward
Afghanistan,
and
 the
 military
 contracts
 targeted
 there
 increase
 accordingly,
 there
 are
 still
 serious
 questions
about
the
state
of
the
support
for
private
contractors.
 Even
 with
 the
 best
 legal
 and
 medical
 support,
 in
 a
 system
 working
 just
 the
 way
 it
 was
 designed,
 injured
 civilian
 contractors
 often
 struggle
 to
 move
 on
 with
 their
 lives,
 surrounded
 by
 others
 who
 misunderstand
 their
 role
 in
 the
 war,
 still
 clinging
to
the
adventures
and
disasters
of
the
life
they
once
had,
half
a
world
away.
 
 
 





4


Who
are
the
contractors,
and
how
do
they
end
up
in
Iraq?
 Sprawling
 American
 outposts
 like
 Camp
 Anaconda,
 north
 of
 Baghdad
 near
 Balad,
 take
the
kind
of
workers
that
might
be
required
by
a
massive
hospitality
operation,
 an
enormous
cruise
ship
at
port
in
the
desert.
Cooks,
janitors
and
maids,
doctors,
IT
 experts
 and
 mechanics
 are
 as
 necessary
 there
 as
 in
 any
 community
 with
 limited
 access
to
the
world
outside
its
walls.
 Of
 the
 contractors
 in
 Iraq
 today,
 44
 percent
 work
 in
 these
 sorts
 of
 base
 support
operations.
12
percent
more
work
in
construction,
building
and
rebuilding
 Iraqi
infrastructure
like
schools
and
hospitals,
and
new
American
outposts.v
 Transportation
 accounts
 for
 another
 large
 chunk
 of
 the
 U.S.‐funded
 workforce
 in
 Iraq,
 with
 so
 many
 truckers
 required
 for
 hauling
 supplies,
 mail
 and
 equipment
along
often‐dangerous
Iraqi
roads.
 


Whatever
 the
 field,
 the
 employment
 opportunities
 in
 Iraq
 are
 high‐profile,


both
 because
 of
 the
 exotic
 location
 and
 the
 chance
 at
 far
 greater
 income.
 While
 leading
 companies
 like
 KBR,
 Inc.,
 Dyncorp
 and
 Fluor—by
 far
 the
 leading
 private
 employers
 in
 Iraqvi—recruit
 at
 job
 fairs
 nationwide,
 word
 of
 mouth
 is
 an
 efficient
 recruiting
 tool.
 Formal
 job
 postings
 and
 casual
 conversation
 on
 online
 bulletin
 boards
are
also
gateways
to
private
sector
work
in
Iraq.
 


Iraqi
workers
and
so‐called
“third‐country
nationals,”
or
TCNs,
account
for
a


large
 percentage
 of
 the
 private
 sector
 in
 Iraq,
 with
 large
 groups
 of
 workers
 often
 imported
wholesale
for
specific
jobs.
Uganda
and
Nepal
are
well
represented
in
the
 security
contracting
field;
many
chefs
are
from
India;
and
even
after
the
Philippine
 government
 banned
 its
 people
 from
 working
 in
 Iraq
 in
 2005,
 Filipinos
 sneak
 over
 illegally
 to
 continue
 working
 the
 custodial
 jobs.
 Increasingly,
 Iraqi
 truckers
 are
 being
hired
to
drive
in
supply
convoys.vii
While
this
work
is
just
as
dangerous
for
an





5


Iraqi
as
an
American,
their
wages
are
far
lower
and
their
equipment
often
in
worse
 condition.viii

 


Americans
working
in
Iraq
come
from
across
the
United
States,
but—as
is
the


case
with
military
enlistment—rural
parts
of
the
American
South
and
Midwest
are
 more
heavily
represented
than
urban
centers
along
the
coasts.ix
The
trucking
and
oil
 field
hub
of
Houston,
home
to
Halliburton
and
KBR,
is
especially
well
represented.
 Many
 contractors,
 especially
 truckers,
 come
 to
 Iraq
 with
 military
 backgrounds,
 though
 likely
 non‐combat
 Cold
 War
 experience.
 Most
 are
 men,
 especially
 in
 the
 security,
 transportation
 and
 construction
 fields,
 though
 women
 are
 well
 represented
in
on‐base
jobs.
 


When
 I
 asked
 contractors
 why
 they
 went
 to
 Iraq,
 they
 always
 had
 a
 well‐

rehearsed
 answer
 ready.
 The
 good
 pay
 is
 usually
 somewhere
 in
 their
 list
 of
 reasons—but
 it’s
 a
 touchy
 subject
 because
 contractors
 are
 often
 labeled
 “war
 profiteers”
 once
 they
 return.
 Many
 I
 spoke
 with
 compared
 themselves
 to
 soldiers
 who
received
cold
welcomes
after
coming
home
from
Vietnam.

 Many
insist
that
the
money
was
a
factor
in
their
decision
to
go,
but
that
they
 wouldn’t
 have
 done
 the
 work
 for
 the
 money
 alone.
 “Troop
 support”x
 and
 similar
 patriotic
reasons
are
common,
especially
among
ex‐military
workers.
Many
truckers
 working
 in
 Iraq
 are
 in
 their
 50s
 and
 60s;
 the
 stint
 in
 Iraq
 was
 meant
 as
 a
 springboard
to
a
comfortable
retirement,
mortgage
payment,
or
escape
from
other
 debt.
 Because
 it
 is
 such
 a
 dramatic
 change,
 the
 decision
 to
 work
 in
 Iraq
 is
 often
 a
 symbolic
one—an
escape
from
a
low‐paying
or
dead‐end
job,
an
oppressive
boss
or
 even
a
messy
divorce.
 Like
almost
everything
else
in
the
private
sector
in
Iraq,
hiring,
training
and
 deployment
procedures
vary
from
one
company
to
another.
Because
so
many
of
my
 interviews
 were
 with
 former
 KBR
 truck
 drivers,
 I
 am
 best
 acquainted
 with
 their
 procedure.
 New
 recruits
 are
 processed
 in
 Houston,
 at
 a
 KBR
 facility
 in
 a
 former





6


department
store
in
Greenspoint
Mall.
Paperwork,
salary
details
and
basic
training
 with
 chemical
 suits
 are
 all
 handled
 over
 the
 course
 of
 a
 week
 here,
 with
 recruits
 bused
back
and
forth
each
day
between
the
mall
and
a
nearby
hotel.
As
recently
as
 2005,
 the
 week
 began
 with
 a
 lengthy
 personality
 test,
 after
 which
 many
 of
 the
 recruits
 were
 told
 they
 could
 leave.
 The
 questions
 were
 designed
 to
 flag
 anyone
 likely
to
question
authority
or
avoid
conforming.xi
 Recruits
 stay
 at
 the
 hotel
 in
 Houston
 after
 that
 week,
 returning
 to
 the
 mall
 each
morning
in
case
their
name
has
been
pulled
for
departure
that
day—a
process
 that
can
take
another
week
or
two.
From
there,
new
employees
fly
through
Europe,
 stop
for
a
night
or
two
in
Dubai,
then
fly
into
Baghdad,
and
north
to
Camp
Anaconda
 near
the
town
of
Balad.
There,
workers
get
acclimated
and
prepare
for
more
specific
 work
assignments
(flatbed
trucks,
refrigerated
trucks,
heavy
equipment
haulers
and
 even
 on‐base
 driving
 assignments
 are
 all
 possibilities
 to
 this
 point).
 Truckers
 I
 spoke
with
often
commented
on
how
many
recruits
turned
right
around
as
soon
as
 the
plane
landed
in
Anaconda.
These,
they
told
me,
were
the
guys
who
came
strictly
 for
the
money.
 
 Risks
in
Iraq
 Small‐arms
 fire,
 improvised
 explosive
 devices
 (IEDs)
 and
 rocket‐propelled
 grenades
 (RPGs)
 take
 the
 greatest
 toll
 on
 truckers
 whose
 convoys
 are
 attacked
 on
 runs
between
bases.
The
same
is
true
for
security
contractors,
and
any
others
whose
 work
often
takes
them
“outside
the
wire”
and
away
from
the
relative
safety
of
the
 U.S.
 bases.
 Inside
 the
 wire,
 mortar
 attacks
 are
 the
 most
 prevalent
 danger
 from
 outside
attackersxii.
 


Driving
trucks,
loading
equipment
and
handling
repairs
are
demanding
jobs


to
begin
with,
and
the
extreme
pace
and
harsh
surroundings
make
on‐the‐job
injury





7


much
more
likely
than
in
the
relative
calm
of
the
U.S.
Sprained
ankles
and
on‐the‐job
 back
 injuries
 happen
 even
 under
 the
 best
 circumstances,
 and
 some
 of
 the
 injured
 contractors
 I
 spoke
 with
 said
 they
 were
 struggling
 with
 workers’
 compensation
 claim
 disputes
 precisely
 because
 their
 injuries
 were
 tougher
 to
 prove
 than
 more
 obvious
gunshot
or
shrapnel
wounds.
 


Those
physical
dangers
are
what
most
contractors
told
me
they’d
taken
into


account
 before
 leaving,
 but
 none
 of
 them
 told
 me
 they
 were
 prepared
 for
 the
 psychological
damage
they
suffered.
Security
contractors
run
into
many
of
the
same
 traumatic
experiences
as
soldiers
in
Iraq
–
but
so
do
truckers,
who
regularly
venture
 outside
the
wire
and
into
combat
situations.
Though
they
are
unarmed,
drivers
often
 come
across
 grisly
 scenes
 in
 the
aftermath
of
 firefights.
 Two
drivers,
 Robert
Rowe
 and
 Preston
 Wheeler,
 mentioned
 times
 when
 they
 believe
 it’s
 likely
 they
 killed
 or
 seriously
 injured
 people
 in
 the
 road,
 just
 by
 following
 the
 driving
 techniques
 required
to
protect
their
convoy.
 


Iraq
 is
 a
 minefield
 in
 a
 physical
 sense
 and
 in
 a
 more
 vague
 psychological


sense.
Workers
headed
into
the
war
zone
may
come
to
terms
with
the
dangers
they
 understand
 –
 like
 getting
 shot
 –
 but
 can
 still
 be
 wholly
 unprepared
 for
 the
 psychological
trauma
they’ll
face.
 
 Legal
Safeguards
 Just
like
workers
in
the
United
States,
contractors
of
all
nationalities
working
 for
 U.S.
 military
 missions
 abroad
 are
 protected
 by
 a
 comprehensive
 safety
 net
 in
 case
they’re
injured
on
the
job.
 That’s
the
idea,
anyway.
In
practice,
the
number
of
workers
has
strained
that
 safety
net,
forcing
some
to
wait
years
on
claims
decisions
for
time‐sensitive
medical





8


care,
 and
 adding
 to
 workers’
 feelings
 of
 abandonment
 and
 isolation
 after
 they
 return.
 


Everyone
 working
 abroad
 in
 support
 of
 a
 U.S.
 military
 mission
 is
 protected


under
 the
 Defense
 Base
 Act
 (DBA),
 a
 World
 War
 II‐era
 law
 that
 covers
 workers’
 compensation
 and
 health
 insurance
 benefits.
 The
 DBA
 is
 administered
 by
 the
 Department
 of
 Labor
 (DOL),
 which
 receives
 the
 claims
 from
 individuals
 injured
 abroad.

 Because
it’s
up
to
the
worker
to
file
a
claim
with
the
DOL,
and
because
many
 never
hear
about
the
law
–
particularly
those
injured
early
in
the
war,
and
non‐U.S.
 citizens
 working
 under
 subcontracts
 –
 many
 never
 get
 the
 help
 to
 which
 they’re
 entitled.
 That’s
 also
 why
 an
 accurate
 count
 of
 those
 injured
 in
 Iraq
 is
 so
 hard
 to
 come
by.
 The
DBA
covers
the
sort
of
workplace
injuries
that
could
happen
anywhere,
 whether
 Iraq
 or
 Ohio.
 Any
 company
 that
 hires
 workers
 in
 Iraq
 must
 first
 secure
 their
DBA
health
insurance.
 For
 contractors
 injured
 as
 a
 direct
 result
 of
 enemy
 fire,
 the
 War
 Hazards
 Compensation
Act
provides
health
coverage
and
injury
compensation.
 One
 notable
 (and
 admittedly
 complex)
 distinction
 between
 the
 WHCA
 and
 the
 DBA
 is
 the
 claim
 dispute
 process.
 Under
 the
 WHCA,
 the
 U.S.
 government
 ultimately
 covers
 the
 cost
 of
 a
 worker’s
 health
 care
 after
 the
 private
 health
 insurance
company
sends
them
the
bill.
This
can
include
legal
costs
associated
with
 disputing
a
worker’s
claim
–
and
in
those
cases,
the
insurer
can
bill
the
government
 for
 damages
 awarded
 and
 legal
 fees,
 plus
 an
 additional
 15
 percent
 to
 cover
 their
 administrative
 costs.
 While
 that
 limits
 the
 risk
 private
 insurers
 take
 on,
 it
 also
 eliminates
 any
 incentive
 they
 may
 have
 had
 to
 resolve
 a
 dispute
 quickly
 or
 out
 of





9


court.
 In
 effect,
 the
 longer
 a
 WHCA
 claim
 stays
 in
 court,
 the
 more
 insurance
 companies
make.
 


In
 general,
 WHCA
 claims
 tend
 to
 be
 more
 clear‐cut,
 because
 gunshot
 and


shrapnel
wounds
are
fairly
obvious
and
tend
to
be
well
witnessed
and
documented
 by
 the
 military.
 DBA
 claims
 can
 be
 much
 harder
 to
 prove.
 David
 Boiles,
 a
 trucker
 from
 Conroe,
 Texas,
 suffered
 back
 injuries
 when
 his
 truck
 slid
 off
 a
 poorly
 paved
 Iraqi
highway.
A
loose
pane
of
bulletproof
glass
sent
trucker
Eddie
Barker
home
to
 Maryland
with
a
neck
injury.
Soft
tissue
injuries
suffered
abroad
are
as
complex
as
 in
the
U.S.;
these
are
the
claims
most
likely
to
be
disputed
and
end
up
before
a
judge.
 


Psychological
 claims
 are
 fraught
 with
 the
 same
 problems
 as
 other
 hard‐to‐

prove
injuries,
and
are
disputed
particularly
often.
 


A
 small
 number
 of
 companies
 provide
 health
 insurance
 for
 most
 of
 the


workers
 in
 Iraqxiii.
 The
 largest
 insurer
 is
 American
 International
 Group,
 Inc.
 (AIG),
 which
provides
coverage
for
KBR’s
workers,
among
others.
A
2008
investigation
by
 the
House
Oversight
Committee,
led
by
California
Rep.
Henry
Waxman,
criticized
the
 way
the
Department
of
Defense
handles
its
choice
of
DBA
insurance
companies
–
in
 particular,
AIG’s
performance
with
its
contracts.

 


While
 the
 State
 Department
 and
 the
 Army
 Corps
 of
 Engineers
 choose
 their


DBA
insurance
providers
in
a
bidding
process,
the
Defense
Department
leaves
that
 choice
up
to
individual
contracting
companies.
By
this
process,
AIG
has
emerged
as
 one
of
the
major
DBA
insurance
providers.
Records
show,
though,
that
AIG
has
paid
 out
far
less
in
benefits
(per
worker)
than
other
DBA
insurance
providers.
 


While
 the
 DBA
 and
 WHCA
 provide
 generous
 benefits,
 contractors
 complain


their
claims
are
disputed
too
often,
and
that
the
claims
process
drags
on
far
too
long.
 Claims
 disputes
 are
 arbitrated
 by
 Department
 of
 Labor
 administrative
 judges,
 and
 these
lengthy
legal
processes
often
take
place
while
workers
are
injured
and
unable





10


to
 work—legal
 delays
 bring
 them
 closer
 to
 desperation,
 and
 more
 likely
 to
 settle
 their
 claims
 for
 less
 money
 than
 they
 would
 get
 if
 awarded
 monthly
 disability
 payments.
 Other
Support
Networks
and
Reform
Advocates
 


Many
former
KBR
contractors
told
me
they
never
heard
from
KBR
after
their


injuries,
except
for
a
brief
letter
weeks
later,
telling
them
they’d
been
fired
for
failing
 to
show
up
to
work.
Some
got
this
same
letter
more
than
once.
 The
sudden
loss
of
a
community
of
co‐workers,
or
an
organization
to
belong
 to,
 is
 one
 of
 the
 most
 jarring
 changes
 injured
 contractors
 face
 when
 they
 come
 home.
 Robert
 Rowe,
 a
 former
 KBR
 trucker
 without
 a
 wife
 and
 family
 to
 return
 to,
 spoke
most
passionately
about
the
feeling
of
abandonment
he
felt
when
he
got
back,
 and
his
deep
resentment
for
the
company
that
he
says
left
him
behind.
 


To
 fill
 this
 void
 and
 protect
 their
 own
 interests,
 some
 contractors
 have


banded
 together
 around
 the
 Web
 site
 americancontractorsiniraq.com—a
 site
 founded
 by
 Jana
 Crowder,
 the
 wife
 of
 a
 Bechtel
 engineer
 in
 Iraq.
 It’s
 the
 largest
 community
 of
 injured
 contractors,
 providing
 injured
 workers
 with
 a
 sense
 of
 community
and
resources
to
help
them
secure
medical,
psychological
and
legal
help.
 


Through
this
site
and
on
their
own,
many
contractors
have
enlisted
Houston


attorney
Gary
Pitts
to
guide
them
through
DBA
claims.
Pitts
represents
hundreds
of
 injured
contractors,
and
while
detractors
say
he’s
turned
these
cases
into
“a
cottage
 industry”xiv
for
his
practice,
he
is
one
of
just
a
few
lawyers
well
versed
in
DBA
law
 who
will
take
many
of
these
cases.
 


Union
 Treatment
 Centers
 in
 Austin,
 Texas,
 is
 another
 resource
 that
 serves


injured
 contractors.
 Under
 its
 founder
 Dr.
 Garry
 Craighead,
 the
 workplace
 injury
 rehab
 center
 has
 offered
 free
 MRIs,
 MMPI‐2
 psychological
 screenings
 and
 other
 diagnostic
tests
to
help
contractors
make
their
case
before
a
judge.
Craighead
began





11


working
 with
 contractors
 in
 late
 2007,
 paying
 up‐front
 for
 their
 travel
 and
 hotel
 costs
and
billing
the
contractor’s
insurance
carrier.
 


The
 greatest
 potential
 for
 systemic
 change
 in
 the
 handling
 of
 civilian


contractors
 comes
 from
 the
 U.S.
 Congress,
 where
 lawmakers
 investigating
 various
 aspects
of
the
Iraq
war
have
seized
on
a
variety
of
contracting
practices—from
the
 use
 of
 private
 security
 forces
 to
 contract
 procurement
 policies—and
 noted
 insurance
appeals
and
mental
health
care
as
areas
where
change
is
needed.
Still,
the
 evidence
 that
 there’s
 a
 problem
 in
 the
 contractors’
 safety
 net
 is
 only
 anecdotal— tougher
to
document
than
issues
with,
say,
contracting
budgets—making
it
tougher
 for
lawmakers
to
write
reform
legislation.
 
 Post­Traumatic
Stress
Disorder
in
Civilian
Contractors
 


Post‐traumatic
stress
in
troops
returning
home
has
been
the
subject
of
major


media
 coverage
 in
 the
 last
 few
 years.
 While
 there’s
 still
 much
 improvement
 necessary
 in
 the
 screening
 and
 treatment
 of
 soldiers,
 the
 Army
 has
 made
 great
 progress
since
the
war
beganxv.
 


Less
attention
has
been
paid
to
PTSD
among
private‐sector
workers
in
Iraq—

particularly
 when
 it
 comes
 to
 their
 ability
 to
 secure
 treatment
 for
 their
 psychological
 wounds.
 In
 general,
 the
 same
 groups
 of
 contractors
 that
 face
 the
 greatest
physical
risk—truckers,
interpreters
and
private
security—are
the
ones
at
 the
greatest
risk
for
PTSD.
 


Former
 KBR
 employees
 told
 me
 they
 never
 received
 a
 debriefing
 or


screening
after
working
in
Iraq,
and
two
DynCorp
workers
told
me
their
company
 issued
a
brief
questionnaire
that
touched
on
PTSD
just
by
asking
if
they
felt
at
risk
of
 committing
suicide.





12





Private
 health
 insurance
 through
 the
 DBA
 does
 cover
 psychological


treatment,
 but
 with
 no
 screening
 process
 before
 they
 return—and
 with
 PTSD
 symptoms
 likely
 to
 surface
 well
 after
 a
 worker’s
 return—it’s
 often
 tough
 for
 a
 worker,
 or
 even
 their
 family,
 to
 spot
 the
 symptoms
 of
 PTSD
 and
 convince
 them
 to
 seek
help.
 


Those
 symptoms
 include
 flashbacks
 to
 wartime
 experiences,
 but
 also
 mood


swings,
 aloofness,
 jumpiness
 and
 trouble
 sleeping.
 Truckers
 who’d
 been
 injured
 while
driving
said
getting
back
behind
the
wheel
was
particularly
difficult,
and
that
 they
 struggled
 to
 drive
 normally
 in
 the
 U.S.
 after
 operating
 for
 so
 long
 under
 different
road
rules
in
Iraq.
I
found
it
particularly
interesting
that
the
truckers
who
 complained
 of
 PTSD
 symptoms
 said
 their
 flashbacks
 weren’t
 just
 related
 to
 the
 moment
of
the
injury
that
sent
them
home.
Workers
told
me
they
had
flashbacks
of
 any
 number
 of
 traumatic
 moments—some
 related
 to
 their
 injury,
 but
 many
 just
 related
to
things
they
saw
while
driving
through
Iraq
on
convoys.
 Preston
 Wheeler,
 who
 suffered
 one
 of
 the
 most
 traumatic
 experiences
 of
 anyone
 I
 spoke
 with
 (two
 truckers
 were
 executed
 in
 front
 of
 Wheeler,
 and
 the
 attackers
 were
 headed
 his
 way
 when
 U.S.
 helicopters
 arrived)
 told
 me
 of
 another
 experience
 that
 troubled
 him
 even
 more:
 the
 night
 when,
 in
 order
 to
 keep
 the
 convoy
line
secure,
he
prevented
a
car
from
cutting
in
front
of
him
as
it
tried
to
pass
 on
the
highway
shoulder.
The
car,
unable
to
slow
down
or
get
back
onto
the
road,
 crashed
 into
 a
 stalled
 truck
 on
 the
 shoulder.
 Wheeler
 never
 found
 out
 what
 happened
to
the
driver.
 Darrin
 Hays,
 a
 prison
 warden
 in
 Iraq
 whose
 tour
 included
 stints
 at
 Abu
 Ghraib,
left
Iraq
with
neck
and
back
injuries,
not
because
of
an
insurgent
attack.
Still,
 back
at
home
he
says
he’s
troubled
by
memories
of
what
he
did
in
the
course
of
his
 job—the
 prisoners
 he
 killed
 while
 they
 were
 trying
 to
 escape
 and
 attack
 their
 guards.
“You
hate
them
for
what
they
make
you
do,”
he
told
me.





13


These
stories
suggest
that
PTSD
in
civilian
contractors
isn’t
strictly
limited
to
 those
 who
 suffered
 debilitating
 injuries
 or
 were
 directly
 attacked.
 As
 studies
 with
 soldiers
have
suggested,
it’s
often
memories
of
the
pain
they
inflicted
on
others,
or
 just
the
grisly
things
they
saw,
that
can
produce
PTSD
symptoms.
Even
contractors
 who
return
home
otherwise
healthy
are
at
risk
for
PTSD.
 





While
 PTSD
 treatment
 is
 covered
 by
 the
 health
 insurance
 benefits
 available
 to
 injured
contractors,
these
types
of
claims
are
some
of
the
most
frequently
disputed.
 With
no
telltale
physical
signs
of
illness,
diagnosis
is
still
an
imperfect
procedure— particularly
when
it
comes
to
providing
the
solid
documentation
that
will
hold
up
in
 court.
 One
tool
frequently
used
for
documenting
PTSD
in
a
patient
is
the
Minnesota
 Multiphasic
Personality
Inventory‐2,
or
MMPI‐2,
a
set
of
567
questions
designed
to
 reveal
 key
 signs
 of
 mental
 disorders.
 Another
 common
 tool
 is
 the
 Fake
 Bad
 Scale
 (FBS),
 also
 known
 as
 the
 MMPI
 ‐2
 Symptom
 Validity
 Scale,
 a
 tool
 introduced
 by
 Lees‐Haley,
English
and
Glenn
in
1991xvi.
The
FBS
is
a
diagnostic
tool
that
tests
for
 signs
 that
 a
 patient
 is,
 in
 fact,
 faking
 their
 illness.
 In
 the
 effort
 to
 pinpoint
 some
 physical
manifestation
of
PTSD,
some
studies
have
suggested
low
levels
of
cortisol
 in
a
patient’s
blood
may
be
a
sign
of
the
illness,
though
the
merits
of
this
claim
are
 particularly
 shaky,
 as
 one
 recent
 survey
 from
 the
 University
 of
 Amsterdam
 points
 outxvii.
 


Experts
say
the
fake
bad
scale
is
problematic,
however,
because
legitimately


ill
 patients
 answering
 honestly
 still
 often
 come
 out
 as
 “fakers”
 on
 the
 test.
 Testing
 for
cortisol
as
a
sign
of
PTSD
is
problematic
as
well,
one
study
points
out,
because
it
 is
far
too
inconsistent
as
an
indicator.
Worst
of
all,
say
injured
contractors,
is
the
use
 of
 medical
 experts
 hired
 to
 appear
 in
 court
 on
 AIG’s
 behalf.
 John
 Griffith,
 an
 East
 Texas
psychiatrist,
has
testified
in
a
number
of
cases
over
the
last
two
years.
Former





14


KBR
 trucker
 Art
 Faust,
 sitting
 in
 on
 another
 worker’s
 hearing,
 said
 the
 doctor’s
 testimony
 made
 light
 of
 PTSD
 symptoms
 and
 raised
 basic
 questions
 about
 the
 legitimacy
 of
 the
 disease,
 rather
 than
 raising
 questions
 related
 to
 the
 individual
 making
a
claim
for
treatment.
 


The
 MMPI‐2
 diagnostic
 is
 just
 one
 possible
 way
 to
 help
 document
 a
 PTSD


diagnosis,
but
it’s
important
to
keep
in
mind
that
ultimately,
PTSD
is
a
self‐reported
 illness.
 With
 minimal
 screening
 at
 the
 time
 contractors
 return,
 and
 especially
 months
 later,
 after
 new
 symptoms
 are
 likely
 to
 surface,
 it’s
 left
 entirely
 up
 to
 contractors
 themselves,
 and
 their
 families,
 to
 seek
 help.
 According
 to
 a
 fact
 sheet
 from
the
Department
of
Veterans
Affairs
(VA)
Web
site:
 
 Proper
 assessment
 of
 PTSD
 is
 complex,
 and
 in
 a
 forensic
 setting,
it
should
include
substantial
attention
to
corroboration
of
self‐ reports
 through
 a
 records
 review
 and
 collateral
 information.
 The
 ability
 to
 evaluate
 these
 assessments
 can
 be
 very
 helpful
 for
 those
 involved
in
the
legal
system.xviii
 


The
 VA
 lists
 a
 few
 categories
 of
 PTSD
 symptoms
 to
 help
 with
 diagnosis:


“reexperiencing
 [of
 traumatic
 events],
 avoidance/numbing
 [in
 relations
 with
 others],
 and
 increased
 arousal,”
 and
 emphasizes
 that
 for
 a
 diagnosis
 of
 PTSD,
 the
 patient’s
symptoms
not
all
be
in
one
of
these
categories.
Other
tools
the
VA
reports
 as
valid
for
establishing
a
PTSD
diagnosis
include
the
Clinician
Administered
PTSD
 Scale
and
the
PTSD
Symptom
Checklist.
 


Another
 aspect
 of
 the
 illness,
 the
 VA
 points
 out,
 is
 a
 decline
 in
 a
 patient’s


ability
 to
 function
 after
 their
 traumatic
 experience—it
 should
 be
 clear,
 in
 other
 words,
 that
 a
 patient’s
 school
 or
 work
 performance
 has
 declined,
 or
 that
 they’re
 worse
off
taking
care
of
themselves
or
interacting
with
others.
The
symptoms
must
 also
persist
beyond
30
days.
 


Along
 with
 PTSD,
 other
 disorders
 including
 substance
 dependence,
 suicidal


tendencies,
 depression,
 and
 anxiety
 are
 common
 dual
 diagnoses.
 One
 study
 of





15


Vietnam
veterans
with
combat‐related
PTSD
found
that
91%
of
them
struggled
with
 substance
abuse
problems
as
well.xix
 
 


Of
 the
 contractors
 receiving
 psychiatric
 care
 for
 PTSD,
 some
 of
 the
 most


enthusiastic
 about
 their
 progress
 have
 been
 engaged
 in
 a
 treatment
 called
 Eye
 Movement
 Desensitization
 and
 Reprocessing,
 or
 EMDR.
 The
 treatment,
 which
 has
 also
 been
 used
 in
 treating
 soldiers
 with
 PTSD,
 involves
 stimulating
 connections
 between
 the
 left
 and
 right
 side
 of
 the
 brain,
 by
 provoking
 side‐to‐side
 eye
 movement,
having
patients
listen
to
music
that
drifts
from
one
ear
to
the
other,
or
 other
side‐to‐side
activity.
 


Since
 its
 first
 published
 efficacy
 study
 in
 1989,
 EMDR
 has
 been
 used
 in
 the


treatment
 of
 a
 variety
 of
 traumatic
 experiences,
 and
 according
 to
 its
 developer
 Francine
 Shapiro,
 it
 has
 been
 subjected
 to
 more
 critical
 studies
 than
 any
 other
 trauma
 treatment
 strategy.xx
 Garry
 Craighead
 has
 used
 EMDR
 in
 treating
 contractors
 at
 his
 clinic
 in
 Austin,
 and
 former
 KBR
 trucker
 Terry
 Steward
 was
 enthusiastic
 during
 our
 interview
 about
 the
 progress
 he’s
 seen
 since
 he
 began
 EMDR
in
early
2008
near
his
home
in
Idaho.
While
former
KBR
trucker
Art
Faust’s
 psychiatric
care
was
covered
by
AIG,
he
says
he
was
unhappy
with
the
treatment
he
 received
from
the
insurer‐approved
psychiatrists
he
was
offered.
Instead,
Faust
paid
 for
his
own
EMDR
therapy
in
Houston
through
another
doctor.
 


EMDR
seems
to
be
one
of
the
most
encouraging
new
areas
in
the
treatment


of
 PTSD,
 but
 the
 selectiveness
 of
 its
 availability
 is
 a
 particular
 concern.
 Some
 workers
say
their
insurance
company
has
picked
up
the
cost
of
EMDR
therapy;
some
 say
some
psychiatric
care
has
been
covered,
but
not
EMDR;
and
some
feel
slighted
 by
 their
 treatment
 in
 the
 official
 diagnosis
 and
 claims
 dispute
 process.
 If
 nothing
 else,
my
interviews
suggested
troubling
disparity
in
the
way
psychiatric
coverage
is
 determined.





16



 Future
of
contracting
jobs
 As
the
U.S.
draws
down
its
presence
in
Iraq,
there
are
fewer
jobs
in
contracting
and
 less
money
being
spent
in
the
private
sector
there.
In
summer
2008,
media
reports
 pointed
 out
 new
 contracts
 springing
 up
 in
 Afghanistan,
 presumably
 signaling
 an
 increased
 U.S.
 presence
 there
 in
 the
 near
 future.
 (As
 of
 March
 2008,
 about
 40,000
 contractors
 were
 working
 for
 the
 U.S.
 military
 in
 Afghanistan.)
 More
 recently,
 though,
 defense
 contractor
 representatives
 at
 one
 major
 trade
 show
 said
 they
 expected
less
government
money
headed
their
way
in
the
coming
years,
thanks
to
 the
economic
downturn.
 


Another
 major
 question
 is
 how
 the
 Obama
 administration’s
 approach
 to


private
contractors
will
differ
from
the
Bush
administration’s.
On
the
campaign
trail,
 Obama
 suggested
 he’d
 scale
 back
 the
 role
 of
 private
 security
 contractors
 like
 Blackwater,
 and
 that
 he’d
 beef
 up
 oversight
 of
 the
 process
 by
 which
 defense
 contracts
 are
 awarded.
 Obama
 has
 not
 given
 any
 indication,
 however,
 of
 breaking
 with
 the
 current
 policy
 when
 it
 comes
 to
 base
 operations,
 construction
 or
 transportation.
 


Blackwater’s
drawdown
in
Iraq
–
and
its
refocusing
on
global
operations
–
is


a
trend
other
companies
are
likely
to
follow.
The
longer
the
U.S.
economy
continues
 to
 struggle,
 the
 more
 likely
 people
 here
 are
 to
 seek
 higher‐paying
 work
 as
 civilian
 contractors
in
foreign
wars.
Whether
in
Iraq,
Afghanistan,
or
another
global
conflict,
 there
will
be
work
for
many,
and
some
will
come
home
injured,
needing
help.





17


III.
Contractor
Profiles





18


“I
can
live
with
the
physical
part,
the
injuries.
 But
I
would
give
it
all
back
to
not
have
the
memories.”



 
 


Preston
Wheeler,
40
 Trucker,
KBR
 Worked
in
Iraq
April‐September
2005
 Gunshots,
PTSD
after
attack
on
truck
convoy





19



 
 Preston
 Wheeler
 woke
 up
 disoriented
 in
 a
 ditch
 along
 U.S.
 Highway
 71
 in
 western
 Arkansas.
 Gradually,
it
came
back
to
him:
the
18‐wheeler
passing
on
the
two‐lane
road,
 the
 sharp
 pop,
 the
 cloud
 of
 dust
 from
 a
 blown
 rear
 tire.
 The
 flashback
 came
 as
 he
 veered
right
to
avoid
the
blowout’s
debris.
 As
his
car
left
the
asphalt,
a
scene
replayed:
Preston
was
back
on
a
dead‐end
 road
in
Ad
Duluiyah,
north
of
Baghdad,
trapped
behind
a
flipped
tractor‐trailer.
Four
 gunmen
coaxed
a
fellow
driver
out
of
the
truck
ahead
of
his
in
the
convoy.
He
heard
 the
 shots
 as
 the
 men
 executed
 the
 driver
 in
 the
 street.
 Their
 white
 pants
 flapped
 in
 the
wind,
the
road
behind
them
streaked
with
blood.
Preston
regained
consciousness
 alone
in
his
Chevy
Cavalier.
 His
 psychiatrist
 had
 warned
 him
 against
 returning
 to
 his
 job
 as
 a
 driver
 on
 the
open
road.
So
instead,
he
drove
semitrailers
in
circles
around
a
Tyson
Foods
Inc.
 lot,
hauling
live
chickens
to
the
slaughterhouse—100,000
a
day.
 It
wasn’t
supposed
to
be
like
this.
He,
of
all
people,
should
have
known.
 
 The
 U.S.
 employs
 more
 civilian
 contractors
 than
 soldiers
 in
 Iraq.
 Preston’s
 former
employer,
Houston‐based
KBR
Inc.,
formerly
a
subsidiary
of
Halliburton
Co.,
is
 the
 largest
 company
 operating
 there.
 During
 five
 years
 of
 war,
 the
 Army
 and
 some
 contractors
 have
 improved
 the
 ways
 they
 detect
 and
 treat
 post‐traumatic
 stress
 disorder.
 KBR
 has
 not,
 according
 to
 its
 wounded
 employees.
 KBR’s
 screening
 procedure
is
left
to
on‐site
counselors
who
identify
employees
who’ve
faced
trauma,
 rather
 than
 a
 routine
 screening
 for
 all
 workers
 when
 they
 return
 home.
 Workers





20


often
 have
 to
 recognize
 their
 own
 symptoms
 and
 request,
 or
 sometimes
 fight
 for,
 treatment
 through
 the
 company’s
 insurance
 carrier.
 “When
 employees/former
 employees
contact
KBR,
the
company
assists
them
in
making
a
claim,”
says
Heather
 Browne,
a
KBR
spokesperson.
 Many
 civilian
 contract
 employees
 come
 from
 East
 Texas
 and
 neighboring
 states
 like
 Arkansas,
 the
 result
 of
 recruiting
 in
 dead‐end
 towns.
 A
 job
 in
 Iraq
 that
 triples
 your
 current
 pay
 doesn’t
 look
 so
 bad
 when
 you’re
 in
 debt
 even
 after
 a
 long,
 hard
year
of
trucking
at
home.
 Preston
had
a
simple
dream:
He
wanted
to
build
his
own
house
in
the
woods
 near
his
hometown
of
Wickes,
Arkansas.
Given
the
local
economy,
it
was
more
fantasy
 than
plan.
Sometimes
you
have
to
leave
your
hometown
for
a
job;
he
knew
that.
Tired
 of
chasing
oil,
cement,
and
trucking
jobs,
he
hoped
a
year
or
two
in
Iraq
would
be
his
 shortcut
to
a
new
home,
a
clear
credit
record,
and
enough
money
to
support
his
son.
 “’Round
 here,
 you
 either
 got
 something
 or
 you
 don’t,”
 Preston
 says,
 driving
 through
Wickes.
“Most
people
are
content
as
they
can
be
with
the
way
their
life
is.”
 With
 the
 local
 logging
 industry
 running
 on
 machines
 instead
 of
 manpower,
 the
Tyson
plant
is
the
only
major
employer
left.
 It
 was
 a
 cold
 day
 last
 January,
 and
 Preston,
 who’d
 just
 turned
 40,
 wore
 a
 green
Carhartt
jacket
and
a
camouflage
hat.
He
sat
behind
the
wheel
of
his
girlfriend
 Kellie’s
truck
while
she
and
her
kids,
Sierra
and
Allan
(all
but
Kellie
call
him
Bubba),
 rode
in
the
back.
Preston
is
of
medium
height
and
average
build—a
few
dozen
pounds
 lighter,
he
says,
since
he
quit
drinking
a
few
months
earlier.
 He
 drove
 past
 the
 Wickes
 housing
 project,
 a
 long
 row
 of
 structures
 tucked
 behind
 a
 thin
 stand
 of
 pines,
 where
 he
 lived
 when
 he
 was
 young.
 Older
 cars
 shared
 the
front
yard
with
lawn
mower
parts
and
mud‐covered
toys.
“I
guarantee
you,
if
my
 dad
knew
I
went
to
Iraq,
he
would
flip
plumb
out,”
Preston
says.





21


The
year
before
Preston
was
born,
his
dad
came
back
from
Vietnam
missing
 both
 his
 legs.
 Wayne
 Wheeler
 was
 with
 the
 Marines
 in
 1966
 when
 he
 stepped
 on
 a
 land
mine
in
Da
Nang.
When
he
returned,
he
was
sullen,
often
drunk,
and
prone
to
fits
 of
 rage
 at
 home.
 Over
 a
 few
 years,
 Preston’s
 mother,
 Yvonne,
 realized
 she
 had
 a
 painful
 decision
 to
 make—tougher
 still
 with
 four
 children
 and
 no
 job
 of
 her
 own.
 “Daddy
was
real
abusive,”
Preston
says.
“I
don’t
really
remember
them
breaking
up.
I
 just
remember
we
moved.”
 Yvonne
 remarried
 and
 moved
 to
 Texarkana.
 Preston
 spent
 high
 school
 getting
 into
 fights
 and
 skipping
 class.
 He
 flunked
 out
 of
 his
 junior
 year
 twice,
 then
 dropped
out,
got
his
GED,
and
went
to
work
at
the
chicken
plant.
Later
he
left
for
oil
 field
 work
 in
 Bakersfield,
 concrete
 work
 in
 Oklahoma
 City,
 and
 a
 string
 of
 trucking
 jobs.
He
married
and
divorced
twice.
His
son
Blaine,
from
his
first
marriage,
lives
with
 him
today
and
is
a
senior
at
Wickes
High.
After
every
job
and
each
woman,
Preston
 always
came
home.
 By
 2005,
 he
 was
 deep
 in
 debt
 from
 house
 expenses
 and
 medical
 bills,
 and
 didn’t
 see
 a
 way
 clear.
 If
 there
 were
 two
 kinds
 of
 folks
 in
 Wickes,
 the
 ones
 with
 something
and
those
without,
he
could
see
which
group
he
was
headed
for.
 Preston
 knew
 of
 people
 from
 town
 who
 had
 driven
 trucks
 in
 Iraq.
 “They
 came
 back
 no
 problem,
 so
 I
 decided
 maybe
 I’d
 go
 over
 there
 and
 I
 wouldn’t
 have
 a
 problem,”
he
says.
“It
wasn’t
desperation.
I
just
knew
that
was
a
lifetime
opportunity
 to
 go
 make
 that
 kind
 of
 money.
 I
 wanted
 a
 home
 so
 bad,
 I
 was
 willing
 to
 pay
 that
 price.”
 In
2005,
when
his
second
wife
admitted
to
cheating
on
him,
he
asked
her
to
 move
 out,
 making
 his
 choice
 to
 leave
 simple.
 Summing
 up
 his
 state
 of
 mind
 at
 the
 time,
he
remembers
thinking,
“I
got
nobody
else.
It’s
just
me,
and
I’m
gonna
do
this
or
 get
killed.”





22


As
it
happened,
fate
found
a
third
way.
 
 Five
 hundred
 million
 served,”
 signs
 should
 read
 at
 KBR’s
 dining
 halls.
 The
 scale
 of
 KBR’s
 accomplishments,
 enumerated
 in
 a
 company
 press
 release,
 is
 awesome:
 272
 million
pounds
of
mail
and
3.5
billion
gallons
of
fuel
delivered,
over
3.7
million
miles
 of
 road
 traveled,
 32
 million
 clothing
 bundles
 laundered
 worldwide—just
 since
 December
2001.
 The
private
sector
that
accompanies
the
U.S.
military
in
Iraq
is
an
elaborate
 patchwork
 of
 contracts
 and
 subcontracts,
 but
 with
 the
 Army’s
 all‐purpose
 support
 work
 in
 its
 pocket,
 KBR
 is
 the
 2‐ton
 gorilla.
 Through
 May
 2007,
 according
 to
 the
 Washington
Post,
KBR
received
$19.7
billion
under
a
contract
known
as
LOGCAP
III.
 Pentagon
boosters
promised
the
contract
would
lead
to
a
more
responsive
approach
 to
the
war.
Private
employees
would
be
cheaper
to
train
and
easier
to
get
rid
of
when
 the
job
was
done.
 Whistleblowers
and
the
media
have
called
out
KBR
for
waste
and
overbilling,
 such
as
recording
more
meals
than
were
actually
served,
or
favoring
new
equipment
 orders
over
repairs.
Yet
in
April
2007,
KBR
was
one
of
three
companies
awarded
the
 Army’s
next
LOGCAP
contract.
Depending
on
how
much
mail
and
laundry
the
military
 generates,
 KBR
 could
 gross
 as
 much
 as
 $50
 billion
 from
 the
 work
 over
 the
 next
 decade.
 Like
 other
 new
 hires,
 Preston
 knew
 there
 was
 big
 money
 in
 KBR
 when
 he
 reported
to
orientation
at
Greenspoint
Mall
in
Houston.
All
he
wanted
was
a
piece.
 
 Dimly
 lit
 and
 often
 eerily
 vacant,
 Greenspoint
 isn’t
 an
 ideal
 place
 to
 spend
 one’s
 last
 weeks
 before
 going
 off
 to
 war.
 The
 mall
 can’t
 shake
 its
 old
 nickname— “Gunspoint”—it
took
on
after
a
spate
of
violent
crimes
in
the
mid‐1990s.
A
few
days





23


after
 Thanksgiving
 2007,
 as
 the
 holiday
 shopping
 season
 began,
 Greenspoint
 was
 evacuated
 after
 a
 murder‐suicide
 at
 the
 Body
 Luxuries
 lingerie
 store.
 A
 mall
 Santa
 Claus
led
one
wave
of
fleeing
shoppers
to
the
parking
lot.
 Nearly
 every
 worker
 KBR
 sends
 to
 Iraq
 passes
 through
 orientation
 in
 Greenspoint,
 in
 a
 large
 unmarked
 space
 that
 used
 to
 be
 a
 Montgomery
 Ward
 store.
 Trainers
 show
 recruits
 how
 to
 put
 on
 chemical
 suits,
 warn
 them
 to
 drink
 plenty
 of
 water,
 and
 remind
 them
 how
 much
 money
 they’ll
 be
 making.
 The
 other
 end
 of
 the
 mall
has
Army,
Navy
and
Air
Force
recruiting
stations,
so
lunchtime
at
the
food
court
 can
look
like
a
Green
Zone
mess
hall—except
that
in
Iraq,
the
KBR
recruits
serve
the
 food.
 Preston
 says
 he
 didn’t
 mind
 the
 surroundings
 or
 the
 two
 weeks
 of
 waiting
 without
pay.
His
mind
was
occupied
with
dreams
of
how
the
money
would
change
his
 life
 back
 home.
 He
 signed
 on
 to
 drive
 a
 truck
 for
 around
 $8,000
 a
 month—“More
 money
than
I’d
ever
seen
in
a
month’s
time,”
he
says.
 At
the
end
of
the
second
week,
his
name
finally
came
up
on
the
flight
list,
and
 a
bus
took
him
30
minutes
down
the
road
to
Bush
Intercontinental
Airport.
When
he
 left
Houston
in
April
2005,
it
was
his
first
ride
in
an
airplane.
 After
 security
 contractors,
 truck
 drivers
 probably
 have
 the
 most
 dangerous
 private
 jobs
 in
 Iraq.
 Running
 from
 base
 to
 base
 in
 long
 convoys,
 they
 make
 easy
 targets
 for
 improvised
 explosive
 devices,
 snipers,
 even
 rock‐throwers.
 But
 with
 pay
 starting
 near
 $100,000
 annually,
 a
 trucker
 can
 earn
 twice
 what
 his
 military
 escort
 makes.
 On
 base,
 where
 most
 private
 contractors
 work,
 the
 danger
 is
 much
 more
 limited,
and
the
pay
can
be
even
better.
 As
 Preston
 learned,
 though,
 the
 cash
 comes
 at
 a
 price.
 Soldiers
 carry
 guns;
 truck
drivers
don’t,
although
Preston
kept
a
knife
in
his
cab.
While
troops
generally
 get
 a
 warm
 welcome
 home,
 a
 trucker
 coming
 back
 is
 as
 likely
 to
 be
 called
 a
 war





24


profiteer
 as
 a
 patriot.
 Contractors
 often
 return
 without
 anybody
 nearby
 who
 can
 relate
 to
 their
 experience,
 and
 without
 a
 Veterans
 Affairs
 office
 they
 can
 turn
 to
 for
 help.
Private
insurance
carriers
take
on
that
role.
 Preston
 lived
 in
 Camp
 Anaconda,
 a
 sprawling,
 makeshift
 town
 of
 tens
 of
 thousands
where
KBR
bases
its
Iraq
operations,
about
65
miles
north
of
Baghdad,
at
 Balad.
 He
 drove
 a
 refrigerated
 truck—a
 “reefer”—on
 convoy
 runs
 every
 couple
 of
 days,
 and
 between
 runs,
 he
 killed
 time
 in
 his
 one‐room
 hooch.
 Fine
 desert
 dust
 collected
 on
 his
 clothes.
 He
 sat
 around
 watching
 pirated
 DVDs
 bought
 from
 Filipino
 laundry
workers,
and
called
home
to
talk
to
his
mom,
Yvonne,
and
his
son
Blaine,
who
 was
staying
with
her.
 Preston
asked
his
mom
to
take
$600
out
of
his
bank
account
and
send
him
a
 digital
camera.
At
first
he
thought
the
silver
Sony
CyberShot
was
too
small,
but
he
was
 happy
 with
 his
 pictures
 of
 exotic
 arches,
 run‐down
 buildings,
 and
 Iraqi
 children
 waving
from
the
roadside.
On
a
laptop
he
bought
in
Dubai,
he
made
a
slide
show
set
 to
the
Toby
Keith
song
“How
Do
You
Like
Me
Now?”
and
dedicated
it
to
his
ex‐wife.
 
 “How
do
you
like
me
now,
 Now
that
I’m
on
my
way?
 Do
you
still
think
I’m
crazy
 Standin’
here
today?”
 
 Preston
 had
 $20,000
 saved
 by
 the
 end
 of
 August,
 when
 he
 came
 home
 for
 R&R
leave.
He
visited
his
family
in
Texarkana
and
took
them
all
out
to
dinner.
Preston
 took
Blaine
and
a
friend
on
a
weekend
trip
to
Dallas,
and
spent
$8,000
on
a
new
four‐ wheeler.
“I
just
got
a
taste
of
the
money,”
he
says.
He
relished
the
easy
lifestyle
that





25


came
with
the
extra
cash
and
was
unconcerned
as
his
savings
dwindled.
“It
don’t
take
 long.
$20,000
is
nothing,”
he
says.
There
was
plenty
more
waiting
in
Iraq.
 
 When
he
returned
to
Anaconda,
he
found
he’d
been
transferred
from
reefer
 trucks
to
flatbeds—news
that
hit
him
hard
in
the
gut.
Reefer
assignments
had
given
 him
 a
 day
 on
 base
 between
 runs,
 but
 flatbed
 drivers
 left
 the
 wire
 almost
 daily.
 The
 odds
had
just
doubled
against
him.
 On
 the
 morning
 of
 September
 20,
 2005,
 a
 week
 and
 a
 half
 after
 his
 return,
 Preston
joined
a
few
drivers
for
a
briefing
with
their
Virginia
National
Guard
escorts.
 They
 were
 headed
 to
 Forward
 Operating
 Base
 McKenzie,
 45
 minutes
 away.
 The
 drivers
 were
 told
 they’d
 be
 back
 in
 time
 for
 lunch.
 Preston’s
 white
 Mercedes‐Benz
 was
the
No.
5
truck,
near
the
front.
Yvonne
had
asked
him
to
try
out
the
video
mode
 on
 his
 camera,
 so
 as
 he
 left
 Anaconda
 he
 pressed
 the
 record
 button
 and
 aimed
 the
 camera
at
the
road.
 As
 Preston
 barrels
 down
 the
 highway,
 the
 video
 catches
 a
 dusty
 road,
 with
 green
 brush
 and
 occasional
 palms.
 The
 video
 doesn’t
 reveal
 it,
 but
 a
 military
 navigator
had
accidentally
directed
the
convoy
down
the
wrong
road.
 The
 pavement
 narrows,
 and
 low
 buildings
 creep
 close
 to
 the
 road
 as
 the
 convoy
 passes
 through
 Ad
 Duluiyah,
 a
 town
 about
 halfway
 to
 Camp
 McKenzie.
 Preston
pulls
closer
to
the
Humvee
ahead
of
him
as
they
roll
down
the
middle
of
the
 street
past
markets,
homes,
and
Iraqis
paused
at
the
roadside
to
watch.
 “KBR
just
took
two
rocks,
right
side,”
calls
a
voice
on
the
radio.
Preston
turns
 his
 camera
 to
 the
 left
 and
 trains
 it
 on
 an
 Iraqi
 boy.
 The
 child
 bends
 down
 to
 grab
 a
 rock,
 takes
 a
 few
 running
 steps,
 and
 hurls
 it
 against
 Preston’s
 truck.
 More
 drivers
 report
 rocks,
 then
 broken
 windows
 and
 windshields.
 “It’s
 raining
 rocks,”
 one
 driver
 says.
Preston’s
driver’s
side
window
shatters.





26


The
road
dead‐ends
at
the
banks
of
the
Tigris
River,
and
the
trucks
regroup.
 Realizing
they’ve
taken
a
wrong
turn,
the
convoy
commander
decides
to
turn
around
 and
push
on
to
McKenzie.
“We
just
missed
our
turn.
We
gotta
go
through
that
hellhole
 again,”
Preston
tells
the
camera.
“This
is
gonna
be
one
good
video
right
here,
boy.
 The
camera
continues
to
run.
The
streets
of
Ad
Duluiyah
reappear,
this
time
 without
 the
 people
 who
 had
 lined
 them
 minutes
 earlier.
 Other
 drivers
 would
 later
 recall
passing
an
old
man
who
made
an
ominous
chopping
motion
with
his
hands.
A
 distant
cracking
noise
and
a
small
bullet
hole
in
Preston’s
windshield
signal
the
onset
 of
 real
 trouble.
 “Goddamn!”
 he
 screams.
 The
 bullet
 has
 passed
 just
 above
 Preston’s
 head.
The
camera
pans
down
for
a
moment.
 The
lead
truck’s
driver,
Christopher
Lem,
is
killed
by
a
gunshot
to
the
neck.
 His
 truck
 overturns,
 blocking
 half
 the
 road.
 Preston’s
 truck
 shakes
 as
 a
 rocket‐ propelled
 grenade
 hits
 where
 the
 trailer
 is
 hitched.
 The
 cab
 pitches
 forward
 off
 its
 back
wheels
as
warning
buzzers
let
out
an
urgent
whine.
Voices
on
the
radio
tell
him
 to
 push
 through,
 but
 Preston
 repeatedly
 radios
 back
 that
 truck
 five
 is
 stuck,
 and
 he
 needs
help.
 “You’re
 damn
 right
 I’m
 scared,”
 he
 tells
 the
 camera,
 hiding
 in
 the
 sleeper
 space
 behind
 the
 passenger
 seat.
 The
 city
 street
 is
 eerily
 empty,
 its
 silence
 occasionally
broken
by
staccato
gunfire.
“I’m
going
home
when
this
shit’s
done.”
 Far
ahead,
too
small
to
distinguish
on
camera
but
clear
enough
for
Preston
to
 see,
 four
 men
 stop
 at
 the
 immobilized
 No.
 3
 truck
 and
 coax
 out
 the
 driver,
 Sascha
 Grenner‐Case.
Moments
later
they
execute
him
in
the
street.
They
move
on
to
truck
 four
 and
 fire
 up
 into
 its
 cab,
 at
 driver
 Kevin
 Dagit.
 “Oh
 Jesus,
 they
 just
 killed
 him,”
 Preston
shouts.
 Up
to
that
point,
he’s
kept
the
camera
recording
without
knowing
quite
why.
 After
Dagit’s
killing,
he
puts
the
camera
down
and
turns
it
off.





27


Two
 bullets
 pierced
 his
 truck
 after
 that,
 tearing
 through
 his
 right
 arm
 and
 settling
 under
 his
 shoulder.
 He
 had
 enough
 time
 to
 tear
 off
 a
 sleeve
 and
 tie
 up
 the
 wound
as
the
four
gunmen
walked
slowly
toward
him.
“The
truck
wouldn’t
move,
so
I
 was
just
stuck
there.
It
wasn’t
a
matter
of
do
or
die,
’cause
there
was
nothing
I
could
 do.
My
only
option
was
to
die,”
he
says.
Fighting
an
urge
to
get
out
and
run,
he
took
 out
a
long
black
knife
and
gripped
it
tight,
waiting
to
defend
himself.
“All
I
knew
was,
 the
first
feller
that
stuck
his
head
up
in
my
door,
I
was
stickin’
him,”
he
says.
 
 “I
was
just
going
into
a
panic,
’cause
I
knew
my
number
was
coming
up.
I
was
on
the
 radio
with
somebody,
I
don’t
know
who.
I
saw
them
walking
to
my
truck,
and
I
told
 him
to
tell
my
son
I
loved
him.
They
kept
telling
me,
don’t
say
that,
you’re
gonna
be
 alright.
And
I
told
him,
I’m
not
gonna
make
it
out
of
this
one.”
 The
men
walked
slowly,
laughing
with
each
other,
he
recalls,
until
they
heard
 the
 Army
 helicopters
 arrive.
 The
 sound
 sent
 his
 would‐be
 attackers
 running,
 and
 in
 that
instant
Preston
was
handed
back
his
life.
 
 Preston’s
 mother
 Yvonne
 always
 assumed
 someone
 from
 KBR
 would
 call
 if
 Preston
 were
 hurt,
 but
 the
 first
 she
 heard
 of
 the
 attack
 was
 from
 her
 son.
 “He
 said,
 ‘Momma
I’ve
been
shot,’
and
I
just
went
all
to
pieces.
There
was
no
way
I
could
get
to
 him,”
she
says.
“And
he
said,
‘Momma,
but
I’m
alive.’”
 After
a
week
in
the
Army
hospital
in
Ramstein,
Germany,
Preston
flew
home
 to
 Texarkana,
 where
 Yvonne,
 her
 husband
 Odis,
 Blaine,
 and
 other
 family
 members
 awaited.
The
hospital
in
Texas
suggested
sending
him
to
a
nursing
home
to
recover,
 but
Yvonne
decided
he
would
stay
with
her
in
Hooks,
Texas,
just
west
of
Texarkana.
 The
hospital
couldn’t
send
a
nurse
every
day,
so
Yvonne
learned
how
to
take
 care
 of
 Preston
 all
 over
 again.
 Doctors
 put
 an
 IV
 port
 in
 his
 chest,
 and
 his
 mother





28


injected
him
with
antibiotics
every
six
hours.
Preston
had
to
keep
the
wound
dry,
so
 he
depended
on
her
for
sponge
baths.
She’d
remove
the
bandages,
clean
the
wound,
 and
cover
it
again.
Preston
says
it
was
big
enough
“to
fit
a
Skoal
can.”
“I
would
set
the
 alarm,
 get
 it
 all
 ready,
 and
 get
 him
 through
 the
 night,”
 Yvonne
 says.
 “But
 when
 he
 started
having
those
flashbacks,
it
was
bad.”
 
 Preston
says,
“I
didn’t
realize
the
effect
it
had
on
me
till
after
I
got
home.
I’d
wake
up
 dreaming
 about
 it,
 and
 be
 up
 at
 four
 or
 five
 o’clock
 in
 the
 morning,
 setting
 on
 the
 porch
and
crying
by
myself.
Didn’t
want
to
wake
up
my
mom
or
[step]dad,
so
I’d
just
 sit
out
there
and
cry.
I
had
a
lot
of
mornings
like
that,
man.”
 For
six
months,
Preston
lived
with
Yvonne,
trying
to
raise
his
right
arm
and
 waiting
 for
 the
 wound
 to
 heal.
 He
 left
 the
 house
 only
 to
 smoke
 cigarettes
 in
 the
 driveway
and
watch
traffic
pass.
He
didn’t
get
many
visitors,
but
he
didn’t
want
them
 anyway.
 A
 musical
 wall
 clock
 became
 the
 soundtrack
 to
 his
 days,
 playing
 recorded
 chime
 versions
 of
 “Hey
 Jude”
 and
 “Here
 Comes
 the
 Sun”
 while
 he
 ticked
 away
 the
 time.
Day
after
day
began
with
Preston
crying
on
the
porch.
“Mostly
it
was
from
the
 dreams.
 The
 reality
 of
 what
 happened
 went
 on
 forever.
 It
 seemed
 like
 it
 was
 never
 gonna
end,”
he
says.
A
psychiatrist
in
Texarkana
diagnosed
Preston
with
PTSD.
 For
a
while
he
considered
returning
to
Iraq,
but
his
therapist
convinced
him
 that
was
a
bad
idea.
The
psychiatrist
told
him
he
shouldn’t
drive
big
trucks
anymore.
 Preston
 understood
 why:
 Loud
 noises
 tend
 to
 trigger
 the
 most
 intense
 flashbacks.
 “That’s
my
biggest
fear
driving
a
truck,
that
I’ll
blow
a
tire
on
the
highway
and
end
up
 taking
out
an
innocent
family,”
he
says.
 Preston
 had
 loved
 trucking
 since
 he
 was
 a
 boy,
 loved
 the
 freedom
 he
 felt
 racing
down
open
road.
Now
that
he
couldn’t
haul
on
the
highway,
he
found
the
job
at
 the
chicken
plant
near
Wickes,
making
the
same
four
right
turns
20
times
every
shift.





29


To
 date,
 about
 1.5
 million
 people
 visiting
 YouTube
 have
 witnessed
 the
 intense,
emotional
moments
Preston
was
sure
would
be
his
last.
The
digital
recording
 of
 the
 attack
 has
 become
 one
 of
 the
 most
 extraordinary
 pieces
 of
 Preston’s
 story,
 making
 a
 traumatic,
 near‐death
 experience
 an
 oddly
 public
 event.
 Often
 war
 memories
cloud
over
with
time
until
just
a
few
details
remain,
but
what
Preston
saw
 and
 felt
 that
 day
 is
 inextricably
 tied
 to
 footage
 he
 can
 replay
 whenever
 he
 likes.
 He
 says
he’s
watched
the
video—“studied
it”—hundreds
of
times.
 Preston
 had
 e‐mailed
 the
 video
 to
 other
 drivers
 in
 the
 convoy,
 or
 their
 families,
but
says
it
went
public
after
another
driver’s
wife
sent
the
movie
to
Canadian
 television.
 The
 video
 made
 the
 mainstream
 media
 rounds
 within
 a
 year
 after
 the
 attack.
 Preston
 did
 a
 remote
 interview
 with
 CNN’s
 Anderson
 Cooper,
 and
 the
 ABC
 Evening
News
flew
him
to
New
York.
After
his
appearance
on
ABC
News,
he
earned
a
 second
trip
around
the
news
cycle
for
his
accusation
that
the
Virginia
National
Guard
 escort
had
abandoned
his
convoy.
(In
his
video,
the
Humvee
ahead
of
him
drives
past
 the
 wreckage
 as
 Preston
 calls
 for
 help.
 While
 the
 rest
 of
 the
 escort
 fought
 off
 the
 attack
 behind
 him,
 the
 lead
 gun
 trucks
 had
 pushed
 forward
 to
 regroup
 for
 a
 counterattack.)
 Five
hundred
YouTube
users
have
added
comments
to
Preston’s
video.
Most
 write
about
the
war,
America,
or
Iraq
in
general,
often
in
the
raw,
crass
style
typical
of
 online
 comment
 threads.
 A
 few
 are
 aimed
 at
 Preston:
 Some
 are
 sympathetic,
 but
 others
 criticize
 what
 he
 says
 in
 the
 video,
 his
 unarmed
 presence
 in
 a
 war
 zone,
 his
 decision
 to
 go
 to
 Iraq
 in
 the
 first
 place.
 Preston
 has
 fired
 back
 at
 some
 of
 the
 comments.
 Preston
 became
 a
 cult
 sensation
 in
 Australia
 after
 a
 TV
 station
 accidentally
 played
a
few
of
his
terrified
words
on
a
loop,
over
and
over,
for
five
minutes,
during
a
 prime‐time
documentary
about
a
train
wreck.
“I
tell
you
what
man,
you
Google
‘Jesus
 Christ,
help
us
all
Lord,’
and
my
name
comes
right
up,”
he
says.





30



 If
his
new
job
didn’t
give
him
that
old
thrill
of
asphalt
rushing
under
his
feet,
 at
 least
 it
 took
 his
 mind
 off
 his
 memories.
 It
 also
 helped
 that
 his
 old
 friend
 Kellie
 worked
in
the
office;
he
spent
his
entire
shift
driving
circles
around
her.
A
few
months
 after
she
divorced
her
husband—an
old
friend
of
Preston’s—the
two
started
dating,
 and
 when
 Preston
 moved
 into
 a
 rented
 house
 in
 Wickes,
 Kellie
 and
 her
 two
 kids
 moved
in
with
him.
 The
 memories
 remained,
though,
 and
something
 felt
 unsettled.
 It
was
more
 than
Kellie
and
her
kids,
or
Blaine,
could
distract
him
from.
Preston
began
following
 the
news
from
Iraq,
looking
for
people
who
had
been
through
what
he
had.
“I
got
TV
 ’cause
I
was
bored,
but
next
thing
you
know,
‘Everybody
Loves
Raymond’
wasn’t
so
 important
to
me—it
was
CNN,”
he
says.
 
 While
 Preston
 was
 broadcast,
 published,
 and
 streamed
 online
 around
 the
 globe,
 in
 person
he
grew
more
and
more
shut
in.
He
watched
CNN
compulsively.
“He
confined
 himself
to
the
house,
and
there
was
no
outside
world,”
Kellie
says.
 “I
didn’t
know
what
I
could
get
out
and
do,”
Preston
says.
“My
getting
out
and
 doing
something
was
going
to
get
a
30‐pack
of
beer,
and
I’d
come
home
to
drink
it.”
 Worse
than
the
memories
of
what
he
had
seen
was
the
urgent
sense
of
being
 penned
in
on
that
street.
It
came
back
to
him
driving,
when
he
got
stuck
behind
a
slow
 driver;
it
came
back
in
a
crowded
room.
That
need
to
take
control,
to
fight
his
way
out
 if
necessary,
grew
more
intense.
“It
would
be
my
pleasure
to
oblige
the
next
feller
that
 wanted
to
try
me
out,”
he
says.
“Win
or
lose,
I
wouldn’t
care.
I
just
got
so
much
built
 up
 inside
 of
 me,
 you
 know?
 I’ve
 always
 been
 good
 at
 driving
 a
 truck,
 and
 hurting
 somebody.
Those
two
things.”





31


While
 he
 avoided
 leaving
 his
 home,
 he
 became
 resentful
 when
 Kellie
 spent
 time
away.
After
one
argument
in
October
2007,
Preston
ordered
Kellie
to
leave
the
 house.
 Coincidentally,
 a
 week
 later
 some
 truck
 drivers
 from
 his
 old
 convoy
 had
 a
 meeting
in
Porter,
Texas,
a
suburb
north
of
Houston.
Preston
drove
down
to
see
them.
 American
Contractors
in
Iraq
is
one
of
the
only
national
support
networks
for
 injured
contractors.
It’s
made
up
of
a
loose
affiliation
of
contractors
and
their
families.
 The
group’s
Web
site,
americancontractorsiniraq.com,
was
founded
by
Jana
Crowdet,
 a
 contractor’s
 wife,
 who
 posts
 information
 about
 filing
 insurance
 claims
 and
 coping
 with
PTSD.
 
 Art
 Faust,
 the
 truck
 driver
 who
 organized
 the
 conference,
 had
 been
 five
 trucks
 behind
 Preston
 in
 the
 convoy.
 The
 No.
 2
 truck
 driver,
 Terry
 Steward,
 who
 spent
 weeks
 recovering
 beside
 Preston
 after
 the
 attack,
 was
 there,
 too;
 Preston
 stayed
 with
 Steward
 and
 his
 wife
 in
 their
 RV.
 Other
 drivers
 welcomed
 him
 warmly.
 Some
told
Preston
his
video
helped
them
recover
after
their
own
attacks.
 A
 Houston
 therapist
 named
 Sandra
 Dickson
 spoke
 to
 the
 group,
 describing
 the
signs
of
PTSD.
Being
quick
to
fight,
developing
relationship
trouble,
and
sitting
in
 front
 of
 the
 news
 for
 hours
 on
 end
 were
 all
 typical
 signs,
 she
 said.
 Though
 Preston
 had
 already
 been
 diagnosed,
 he
 was
 surprised
 when
 her
 description
 nailed
 him
 so
 well.
 He
 thought
 that
 the
 shut‐in
 he’d
 become
 wasn’t
 really
 him,
 that
 maybe
 he’d
 never
 find
 what
 he
 was
 looking
 for
 on
 the
 news.
 Preston
 raised
 his
 hand
 when
 Dickson
asked
for
questions.
 “Is
it
my
fault
that
I’m
an
asshole?”
he
asked.
“It’s
not
your
fault,
but
it
is
your
 responsibility,”
she
said.
 Preston
drove
home
and
took
down
his
satellite
dish.





32


He
 reminded
 himself
 not
 to
 let
 the
 memories
 take
 over,
 the
 way
 his
 father
 did.
“I
understand
him
now,
to
an
extent,
because
of
the
post‐traumatic
stress.
But
it
 took
me
a
long
time
to
forgive
my
dad,”
Preston
says.
“I
went
out
there
to
his
grave
 and
told
him.
He
let
it
consume
him.
It’s
something
I
don’t
intend
to
let
happen
to
me.”
 Kellie
came
back,
and
the
two
remained
together
until
mid‐March,
when
she
 left
 again
 after
 Preston
 and
 her
 10‐year‐old
 son,
 Bubba,
 got
 into
 a
 shouting
 match.
 The
boy’s
exuberance,
and
loud
balloon
popping
in
the
living
room,
had
long
tested
 Preston’s
 will,
 but
 the
 two
 clearly
 shared
 a
 bond.
 Preston
 said
 Bubba,
 a
 constant
 shadow
in
a
matching
camouflage
jacket,
helped
him
focus
on
the
future
and
keep
his
 memories
from
taking
over.
 
 Ironically,
 Preston
 may
 yet
 end
 up
 with
 the
 money
 he
 wanted
 from
 Iraq—possibly
 much
 more—precisely
 because
 of
 the
 attack.
 The
 claim
 he
 filed
 under
 the
 Defense
 Base
 Act,
 a
 World
 War
 II‐era
 law
 providing
 generous
 worker’s
 compensation
 for
 civilians
supporting
the
U.S.
military
overseas,
may
settle
soon,
and
he
could
end
up
 with
a
lump
sum
that
would
more
than
pay
for
a
new
house
in
Wickes.
 His
 lawyer,
 Gary
 Pitts,
 who
 represents
 many
 contractors
 in
 similar
 claims,
 says
 Preston
 is
 lucky,
 legally
 speaking.
 Some
 of
 Pitts’
 clients
 are
 fighting
 drawn‐out
 claims
 with
 American
 International
 Group
 Inc.,
 the
 insurance
 carrier
 for
 KBR,
 over
 soft‐tissue
 and
 back
 injuries
 that
 are
 tougher
 to
 document
 than
 two
 bullets
 in
 the
 right
arm.
In
disputed
PTSD
claims,
Pitts
says,
the
case
often
comes
down
to
opposing
 opinions
 from
 the
 contractor’s
 therapist
 and
 AIG’s
 in‐house
 expert.
 “It’s
 a
 shootout
 every
time,”
Pitts
says.
Preston’s
case
is
unique
because
if
AIG
asks
him
to
document
 his
trauma,
all
he
has
to
do
is
push
“play.”
 Preston
keeps
a
sketch
of
the
floor
plan
for
the
house
he
says
he’ll
build
 someday,
settlement
or
not.
His
son
Blaine
has
signed
to
join
the
Navy
after





33


graduation,
and
may
go
off
to
war
himself.
“If
I
can
build
my
home,
then
I’m
satisfied
 I’ve
reached
the
goal
I
set
out
to
reach
in
my
life,”
Preston
says.
No
matter
how
well
 the
money
works
out,
he
wishes
he
hadn’t
gone
to
Iraq.
“I
can
live
with
the
physical
 part,
the
injuries,”
he
says.
“But
I
would
give
it
all
back
to
not
have
the
memories.”





34


I
figured,
I’m
retired
now.
I
can
afford
to
go
over
there.



 
 


Art
Faust,
62
 Trucker,
KBR
 Worked
in
Iraq
April
2005‐January
2006
 Convoy
attacked;
PTSD





35


After
years
of
working
for
ungrateful
bosses,
repeatedly
getting
passed
over
 for
promotions
and
waiting
for
pay
raises
that
never
came,
Art
Faust
had
had
enough.
 Faust
spent
decades
hauling
groceries
for
the
Kroger
food
chain.
He’d
driven
 in
 hurricanes
 and
 floods,
 and
 endured
 long
 stretches
 away
 from
 home
 in
 far
 north
 suburban
Houston.

He’d
seen
that
union
politics
was
the
only
way
to
really
get
ahead
 in
the
job,
and
he
wasn’t
interested
in
playing
that
game.
Figuring
he’d
spend
just
a
 couple
 more
 years
 working
 before
 retiring,
 Faust
 wanted
 to
 make
 a
 bold
 move
 for
 once:
he’d
follow
his
son
to
Iraq.
 Art
 Jr.
 had
 just
 enlisted
 in
 the
 Army
 and
 shipped
 off
 soon
 after.
 Faust
 had
 never
 been
 in
 the
 military—he
 tried
 to
 enlist
 during
 the
 Vietnam
 War,
 he
 says,
 but
 was
turned
down
for
being
underweight.
Driving
a
truck
for
KBR,
hauling
supplies
to
 the
troops,
would
be
his
chance
to
support
his
country
and
his
son,
plus—as
he
sold
 the
plan
to
his
wife,
Georgia—the
extra
cash
would
help
set
them
up
in
retirement.
 In
his
early
sixties
now,
Faust
is
still
a
slight
man,
though
his
face
and
belly
 have
filled
in
with
the
look
of
a
man
who’s
spent
his
life
in
a
sedentary
job.
His
fingers
 are
 curled
 from
 rheumatoid
 arthritis
 that
 set
 in
 years
 ago—well
 before
 one
 could
 blame
it
on
old
age.
It
makes
Faust’s
presence
even
less
imposing,
and
when
friends
 relate
how
Faust’s
KBR
bosses
pushed
him
around,
it’s
easy
to
believe.
 As
 soon
 as
 he
 landed
 in
 Baghdad,
 while
 individual
 assignments
 were
 being
 worked
out,
Faust
began
lobbying
for
a
post
near
Art
Jr.
We’ll
see
what
we
can
do,
his
 bosses
told
him,
repeatedly.
“They
were
jerking
him
around
about
his
son
the
entire
 time
he
was
there,”
says
a
friend
who
worked
with
Faust
in
Iraq,
but
asked
not
to
be
 identified
because
he’s
still
working
for
KBR.

 


Faust
was
assigned
to
Camp
Anaconda,
hours
away
from
his
son,
and
the
two


met
only
once
there,
when
Art
Jr.
took
a
few
days
off
to
visit
his
father
at
Anaconda.





36





Faust
 was
 in
 the
 tenth
 spot
 in
 the
 convoy
 attacked
 in
 Ad
 Duluiyah
 in


September
 2005,
 a
 few
 trucks
 behind
 Preston
 Wheeler.
 In
 Wheeler’s
 recording,
 Faust’s
 voice
 comes
 over
 the
 radio
 briefly
 after
 a
 handful
 of
 drivers
 report
 where
 they’ve
 been
 hit
 with
 rocks—“KBR
 just
 took
 two
 rocks,
 left
 side,”
 one
 calls
 out,
 following
protocol.
“It’s
raining
rocks,”
Faust
says.
 


When
 he
 recounts
 the
 day
 of
 the
 attack,
 Faust
 always
 mentions
 how
 the


convoy
 commander
 laid
 into
 “whoever
 that
 was”
 that
 made
 the
 remark
 about
 it
 raining
 rocks,
 how
 it
 wasn’t
 the
 kind
 of
 thing
 drivers
 should
 clutter
 the
 radio
 channel
with.
Just
one
more
layer
of
company
crap,
Faust
thought,
even
right
there
 during
an
attack.
 


During
 the
 worst
 of
 it,
 when
 drivers
 at
 the
 head
 of
 the
 convoy
 were
 being


pulled
from
their
trucks
and
executed,
Faust
near
the
back
of
the
convoy,
where
the
 Virginia
National
Guard
security
detail
was
fending
off
shooters.
Faust
himself
was
 never
shot,
but
the
experience
scared
him
more
than
anything
ever
had
before.
He
 was
pretty
sure
it
was
only
a
matter
of
time
before
a
bullet
found
him,
and
that
left
 him
deeply
shaken.
 


Faust
actually
got
back
behind
the
wheel
of
a
truck
after
a
few
weeks,
but
by


January
2006,
he
was
back
at
home
and
discovering
that
the
attack,
and
much
of
the
 rest
of
his
time
in
Iraq,
had
left
a
lingering
impact.
 


Within
months
of
his
return,
he
showed
signs
of
PTSD.
Georgia,
and
Faust’s


daughter
Melissa
agree
it
was
clear
early
on
that
he
was
more
distant
than
he’d
been
 before
leaving.
He
joked
around
less.
Faust
spent
whole
days
on
the
couch
watching
 cable
news.
Though
he’d
always
been
a
light
sleeper,
he
was
regularly
waking
up
at
 2
 or
 3
 a.m.
 now.
 The
 only
 thing
 he
 seemed
 really
 interested
 in
 talking
 about
 was
 Iraq.
In
a
sense,
it’s
tough
to
blame
him—dodging
bullets
in
the
desert
war
was
a
far
 cry
from
the
quiet
suburban
life
he
returned
to.
But
Melissa
recalls
one
point
in
late





37


2007
 when
 she
 just
 had
 to
 cut
 her
 father
 off,
 the
 time
 he
 started
 telling
 an
 Iraq
 story—one
she’d
heard
before
anyway—while
the
two
danced
on
her
wedding
day.
 


Searching
 for
 answers
 on
 the
 Internet,
 Georgia
 found
 stories
 about
 post‐

traumatic
stress,
and
thought
the
symptoms
sounded
awfully
familiar.
“You
need
to
 go
 get
 help,”
 Georgia
 finally
 told
 him.
 Faust
 spent
 a
 long
 time
 making
 phone
 calls,
 trying
to
figure
out
what
sort
of
psychiatric
support
he
was
entitled
to.
He
went
to
a
 few
 appointments,
 but
 never
 thought
 they
 did
 any
 good.
 Faust
 felt
 patronized,
 he
 says,
and
PTSD
never
came
up.
 


In
 the
 midst
 of
 her
 Internet
 searches,
 Georgia
 says
 she
 was
 surprised
 how


little
information
was
out
there
for
civilian
contractors.
By
far
the
best
resource
was
 a
site
called
americancontractorsiniraq.com,
which
listed
signs
of
PTSD
along
with
 legal
 tips
 to
 help
 workers
 get
 the
 benefits
 they
 were
 entitled
 to.
 The
 group
 was
 having
a
conference
in
Tennessee
in
mid‐2006,
and
Art
and
Georgia
decided
to
go.
 


In
the
group,
Art
found
the
support
network
he
knew
he’d
been
missing
since


his
return.
He
learned
about
the
Defense
Base
Act,
and
heard
stories
from
workers
 who
felt
their
insurance
and
worker’s
compensation
claims
were
being
unduly
held
 up
in
court.
He
came
back
with
a
new
group
of
friends
who
knew
just
what
he
was
 going
 through,
 and
 he
 hired
 Gary
 Pitts,
 the
 Houston
 lawyer
 who
 represented
 so
 many
injured
contractors,
to
help
with
his
DBA
claim.
 


At
Wal‐Mart
one
day,
he
ran
into
David
Boiles,
a
trucker
he
recognized
from


Camp
Anaconda,
but
who
he
didn’t
realize
lived
so
close
to
him.
Boiles
came
home
 from
 Iraq
 with
 back
 problems
 after
 his
 truck
 went
 off
 a
 road.
 Now,
 doctors
 were
 telling
him
he
needed
three
separate
surgeries,
but
AIG
was
only
agreeing
to
cover
 one.
Faust
told
Boiles
all
he’d
learned
about
the
DBA
process,
and
put
him
in
touch
 with
Gary
Pitts
as
well
as
Jana
Crowder,
who
ran
the
injured
contractors’
Web
site.





38





While
 Faust
 worked
 through
 his
 own
 worker’s
 comp
 case
 with
 Pitts,
 he


became
 more
 and
 more
 involved
 in
 the
 informal
 organization
 growing
 around
 Crowder’s
site.
He
found
himself
on
the
phone
with
injured
contractors
he’d
never
 met
 before,
 talking
 them
 down
 from
 suicide,
 or
 offering
 whatever
 legal
 tips
 he’d
 picked
 up.
 In
 October
 2007,
 he
 hosted
 a
 conference
 for
 Crowder’s
 group
 near
 his
 home—a
 good
 location
 since
 so
 many
 KBR
 workers
 came
 from
 Houston,
 though
 many
of
the
20
former
contractors
crossed
the
country
to
be
there.
 While
 Faust
 thought
 he’d
 be
 going
 to
 Iraq
 to
 get
 away
 from
 the
 lousy
 treatment
he
felt
he’d
been
getting
from
his
company,
KBR,
and
its
insurance
carrier
 AIG,
are
the
companies
he’s
especially
angry
at
these
days.
In
a
parallel
sort
of
irony,
 after
he
spent
years
rebelling
against
activity
in
the
unions
at
his
old
job,
he’s
found
a
 great
 sense
 of
 purpose
 now
 as
 an
 organizer
 of
 workers
 who
 feel
 KBR
 and
 AIG
 have
 mistreated
them.
 
 





39


It’s
 very
 interesting—to
 know
 how
 it’s
 It
opens
up
a
lot
of
different
options
for
treatment.


working


in


the


brain.



 
 


Terry


Steward,


Trucker,
 Worked
 in
 Gunshots,
PTSD
after
attack
on
truck
convoy





40


54
 KBR
 Iraq


Terry
 Steward
 doesn’t
 know
 how
 many
 times
 he
 was
 shot
 when
 he
 truck
 convoy
was
attacked—seven
times,
maybe
in
the
leg
and
groin
where
the
bullets
got
 through.
A
few
more
times
in
his
bulletproof
vest.
 He
 was
 driving
 the
 number‐two
 truck,
 ahead
 of
 Preston
 Wheeler
 and
 Art
 Faust
in
that
same
truck
convoy
attacked
between
Anaconda
and
Spycher.
After
he
 was
shot,
he
remembers
leaning
hard
on
the
gas
pedal
to
keep
his
truck
moving,
to
 be
 sure
 he
 didn’t
 trap
 the
 rest
 of
 the
 convoy
 behind
 him—he
 had
 to
 leave
 them
 a
 way
out.
 Terry
is
a
soft‐spoken
man
from
rural
Idaho,
and
as
he
tells
the
story
of
the
 attack,
 it’s
 surprising
 to
 hear
 how
 matter‐of‐factly
 he
 recalls
 the
 experience.
 But
 Steward
was
in
the
Marines,
and
says
that
training
is
what
helped
him
stay
focused
 after
he’d
been
shot,
to
be
sure
he
did
everything
he
could
to
give
his
fellow
drivers
 a
way
out.
 Terry
was
airlifted
out
of
Iraq
alongside
Preston,
and
the
two
became
good
 friends
during
their
recovery
in
Ramstein
together.
Though
they
spoke
often
on
the
 phone,
 the
 contractors’
 conference
 in
 Houston
 Art
 Faust
 hosted
 was
 the
 first
 time
 they’d
seen
one
another
since
their
Medevac
flight
back
home.
 Steward
 says
 his
 gunshot
 injuries
 have
 been
 well
 taken
 care
 of
 by
 AIG,
 and
 while
he
resents
the
company’s
treatment
of
other
drivers
he’s
gotten
to
know,
he
 says
 he’s
 been
 happy
 with
 how
 well
 they’ve
 covered
 his
 psychiatric
 care
 too.
 The
 biggest
 inconvenience
 is
 the
 75‐mile
 drive
 from
 his
 home
 along
 the
 Idaho‐Oregon
 border
into
Boise
for
appointments.
 Even
with
the
legal
support
he’s
entitled
to,
coping
with
PTSD
been
difficult
 for
Terry
and
his
wife
Darlene
since
his
return.





41


The
 flashbacks
 began
 in
 the
 German
 hospital—gunshots
 from
 drilling
 soldiers
 outside
 his
 window
 one
 day,
 and
 at
 night
 the
 sense
 that
 attackers
 were
 approaching
in
his
bed
in
the
shadows.
 The
 flashbacks
 continued
 at
 home,
 and
 his
 wife
 Darlene
 struggled
 to
 cope
 with
the
extra
distance
that
had
developed
in
their
relationship—especially
difficult
 because
it
was
just
the
two
of
them
at
home.
Terry
couldn’t
drive
a
truck
for
a
living
 anymore,
but
he
could
handle
their
motor
home.
The
two
took
long
trips
to
get
away
 from
the
house
and
visit
family.
After
a
few
weeks
of
dog‐sitting
for
their
daughter,
 the
 two
 realized
 that
 having
 a
 puppy
 around
 was
 therapeutic
 for
 them
 both,
 and
 they
 decided
 to
 adopt
 one
 of
 their
 own.
 They
 named
 her
 Abby,
 and
 in
 the
 darkest
 times
for
either
of
them,
they
took
comfort
in
having
her
around.
 Terry
 also
 began
 seeing
 an
 EMDR
 therapist
 in
 early
 2008,
 and
 has
 been
 enthusiastic
about
its
effects
on
his
personality.
Eye
movement
desensitization
and
 reprocessing
is
a
therapy
designed
to
help
patients
get
over
traumatic
experiences
 by
revisiting
the
memories
and
enforcing
connections
across
the
two
hemispheres
 of
the
brain.
Terry
says
he’s
the
therapy
has
is
helping
him
recover
from
the
PTSD
 better
 than
 anything
 else
 he’s
 tried.
 While
 EMDR
 can
 involve
 directed
 eye
 movements
from
side‐to‐side,
or
even
music
fading
from
one
side
of
the
headphones
 to
another,
other
side‐to‐side
movements
can
trigger
the
same
effect.
On
a
road
trip
 down
 to
 visit
 family
 in
 the
 San
 Francisco
 Bay
 Area,
 Steward
 says
 he
 can
 calm
 his
 nerves
by
crossing
his
arms
and
tapping
his
fingers
on
his
arms,
first
the
left,
then
 the
right.
 With
help
getting
over
his
PTSD,
Terry
has
also
enrolled
in
vocational
classes,
 learning
 computer
 skills
 that
 will
 help
 him
 eventually
 work
 from
 home,
 he
 hopes,
 and
find
a
new
career
and
move
on
to
a
life
without
trucking.





42


“I
would
go
back
in
a
heartbeat.
 But
not
if
I
was
going
to
get
medical
care
like
this.”



 
 
 
 


David
Boiles,
60
 Trucker,
KBR
 Worked
in
Iraq
 Multiple
back
injuries
after
truck
ran
off
the
road





43


Behind
the
wheel
of
a
truck,
his
handle
is
“Big
‘Un,”
and
it
fits.
David
Boiles
is
 a
big
man,
not
one
for
chit‐chat.
What
he
will
talk
about,
though,
for
hours
on
end,
is
 the
mess
he’s
had
with
AIG.
 Boiles
 drove
 his
 truck
 off
 the
 road
 accidentally
 in
 Iraq,
 and
 while
 he
 was
 being
jostled
around
in
the
cab,
he
hit
his
head
on
the
ceiling.
It
was
the
beginning
of
 nagging
 back
 troubles
 that
 left
 him
 unable
 to
 walk
 some
 days,
 and
 forced
 him
 to
 come
home
early
from
Iraq.
 He
 discovered
 quickly
 that,
 perhaps
 next
 to
 psychological
 injuries,
 back
 problems
 are
 the
 most
 problematic
 sort
 of
 injury
 to
 document
 for
 the
 insurance
 company.
His
doctors
told
him
he’d
need
three
surgeries
on
his
back,
and
initially,
 he
says,
AIG
signed
off
on
them
all.
Once
the
first
one
was
performed,
though,
AIG
 told
Boiles
they
wouldn’t
cover
the
other
two.
 It
 began
 a
 series
 of
 claims
 for
 doctors’
 appointments
 and
 procedures
 that
 became
protracted
fights.
AIG,
Boiles
says,
agreed
at
one
point
to
cover
the
second
 surgery
on
his
back,
but
reneged
when
his
doctor’s
office
called
to
confirm,
just
half
 an
hour
before
the
surgery
was
scheduled.
That
doctor,
Boiles
says,
won’t
see
him
 anymore
because
he
can’t
deal
with
AIG.
 Boiles
isn’t
sure
how
long
his
claims
will
take
now,
and
years
after
his
injury,
 he’s
 still
 waiting
 for
 a
 final
 decision
 on
 the
 permanent
 worker’s
 compensation
 benefits
 he’ll
 be
 entitled
 to.
 For
 years,
 he’s
 looked
 forward
 to
 a
 court
 date,
 only
 to
 learn
KBR’s
lawyers
received
an
extension
of
a
few
more
months.
 Most
recently,
he
was
scheduled
for
a
court
date
in
early
August,
but
found
 out
just
days
before
that
the
judge
had
granted
KBR’s
legal
team
another
extension,
 until
sometime
in
early
2009.





44


“After
a
while
they
start
freezing
raises,
you
know
you’re
not
going
to
be
getting
any
 more
money.
That’s
when
I
started
looking
at
going
overseas.”






 
 
 
 
 
 Russell
Skoug,
49
 Appliance
repairman
for
Wolfpack
 Worked
in
Iraq
October
2004‐June
2005,
October
2005‐September
2006
 Injuries
to
left
arm
and
leg
from
IED
blast





45


He
knows
it
may
sound
funny,
but
the
sweetest
scent
Russell
Skoug
has
ever
 known
was
the
smell
of
Houston
on
the
fall
day
he
flew
back
from
Iraq.
“It’s
the
trees,
 the
bird
songs.
I
knew
I
was
home,”
Russell
says.
 Missing
 large
 parts
 of
 his
 left
 arm
 and
 leg,
 unsure
 if
 he’d
 ever
 walk
 again,
it
was
an
emotional
homecoming,
 and
Russell
had
been
gone
a
long
time.
 In
 his
 East
 Texas
 hometown
 of
 Diboll,


jobs


have


been


steadily


disappearing
 for
 decades,
 and
 the
 ones
 that
 remain,
 he
 says,
 are
 pretty
 much
 dead
ends.
Trained
as
an
air
conditioner
 repairman,
 Russell
 quit
 his
 job
 at
 the
 local
 Coca‐Cola
 plant
 when
 he
 realized
 he
 didn’t
 have
 much
 chance
 at
 advancement.
 He


worked


for


KBR


in


Afghanistan
 in
 2003,
 and
 in
 2004
 decided
 to
 work
 in
 Iraq.
 His
 new
 company,
 Wolfpack,
 was
 a
 small
 outfit
 with
 about
 25
 people
 in
 Iraq.
 They
 hired
 him
 to
 fix
 generators
 and
 air
 conditioning
 units,
 a
 job
 that
 meant
 travel
 between
 bases,
 wherever
he
was
needed.
 One
 night
 in
 September
 2006,
 a
 time
 when
 everyone
 there
 could
 see
 the
 violence
escalating,
Russell
was
riding
with
a
special
forces
unit,
in
the
passenger
seat
 of
a
truck,
when
they
ran
over
two
anti‐tank
mines
hidden
in
a
pothole.
 Russell
 barely
 survived,
 and
 he
 knew
 he’d
 been
 due
 for
 a
 close
 call.
 The
 month
before,
seeing
how
dangerous
Iraq
had
become,
he’d
even
packed
up
his
bags





46


to
 go
 home
 before
 changing
 his
 mind.
 Now
 Wolfpack’s
 CEO
 was
 leaving
 messages
 with
Russell’s
wife
Linda
to
tell
her
Russell
had
been
hurt.
 Russell’s
recovery
quickly
turned
to
a
nasty
legal
battle,
after
his
company’s
 health
insurance
carrier,
Cigna
International
initially
refused
to
cover
his
emergency
 transportation
 and
 residence
 costs,
 a
 bill
 that
 included
 more
 than
 $250,000
 in
 hospital
expenses
in
Houston.
He
was
shocked.
Even
his
physical
therapy
bills,
a
cost
 the
 insurer
 had
 preapproved,
 were
 being
 denied.
 Russell
 had
 to
 go
 to
 court
 just
 to
 keep
from
paying
those
emergency
health
care
costs,
the
sort
of
basic
expenses
leaht
 insurance
is
designed
to
cover.
 At
 home
 in
 Diboll
 today,
 with
 his
 wife
 and
 kids,
 he’s
 been
 working
 on
 rebuilding
 an
 old
 lawnmower
 in
 his
 back
 yard
 to
 pass
 the
 time.
 Job
 opportunities
 aren’t
any
better
than
they
were
when
he
left,
but
with
partial
use
of
his
left
hand
and
 trouble
walking,
he’s
more
limited
now
than
ever.





47


“What
hurts
the
most
is
the
abandonment.”



 
 
 


Robert
Rowe,
48
 Trucker,
KBR
 Gunshot
wounds,
PTSD
after
attack
on
convoy





48


When
 Robert
 Rowe
 was
 shot
 on
 one
 run
 through
 Baghdad,
 he
 says
 he
 was
 left
to
fend
for
himself
almost
from
the
start.
After
doctors
stabilized
him,
Robert
says
 he
 was
 put
 in
 a
 car
 headed
 to
 the
 Baghdad
 airport—down
 the
 infamous
 road
 that’s
 one
of
the
country’s
most
dangerous—and
told
to
get
on
a
plane
back
to
the
U.S.
He
 was
 still
 wearing
 the
 blood‐ stained
 clothes
 he
 had
 on
 when
he
was
shot.
 Perhaps
 it’s
 not
 surprising,
 then,
 that
 “abandonment”
 is
 a
 word
 that
 comes
 up
 often
 as
 Robert
 talks
 about
 his
 time
 in
 Iraq
 and
 his
 feelings
 for
his
old
employers.
 He


shares


the


concerns
many
former
KBR
workers
have,
about
how
they
were
technically
working
 for
an
offshore
shell
company,
Service
Employees
International,
Inc.,
not
KBR;
about
 the
multiple,
impersonal
letters
they
received
at
home,
while
they
nursed
the
wounds
 that
forced
them
to
come
home,
saying
they’d
been
fired
for
their
failure
to
report
for
 work.
 Robert
didn’t
have
a
wife
and
family
waiting
for
him
at
home—he
didn’t
even
tell
his
 parents
 he’d
 been
 shot,
 until
 months
 after
 he
 returned.
 He
 has
 a
 son
 he
 sees
 on
 occasion,
but
who
lives
his
Robert’s
ex‐wife
most
of
the
time.
He
was
alone
when
he
 returned,
 and
 most
 shocking
 of
 all
 was
 how
 quickly
 the
 company
 for
 which
 he’d
 risked
his
life
had
simply
let
him
go.
 Near
the
end
of
his
recovery,
Robert
was
so
short
on
cash
that
he
had
to
give
 up
his
house
in
Marion,
Ohio.
He
recovered,
physically,
and
hired
on
with
a
trucking
 company
in
the
U.S.,
doing
the
same
work
he
did
before
he
left
for
Iraq.





49


But
the
trauma
from
his
time
in
Iraq,
coupled
with
the
fierce
frustration
and
 anger
 he
 still
 feels
 for
 KBR,
 takes
 its
 toll.
 “There
 are
 times,
 you’ll
 sort
 of
 space
 out
 somewhere
in
the
Midwest,
and
come
to
again
on
the
West
Coast,
and
have
no
idea
 how
you
got
there,”
Robert
says.
 He
 keeps
 a
 book
 in
 the
 back
 of
 his
 cab,
 where
 he
 writes
 poetry
 and
 other
 thoughts
about
the
war.
As
a
veteran
of
the
Marines
and
the
Army,
Rowe
has
strong
 feelings
 about
 loyalty,
 and
 he’s
 frustrated
 that
 in
 a
 war,
 those
 same
 bonds
 don’t
 always
carry
over
into
the
private
sector.






50


“I
don’t
want
to
let
this
demon
loose.
I
want
to
keep
him
in
check.”






 
 
 Darrin
Hays,
40
 Prison
warden,
Science
Applications
International
Corp.
 Worked
in
Iraq
2003‐2004
 Back
and
neck
injuries
suffered
while
subduing
a
prisoner





51


Driving
 back
 to
 his
 home
 in
 northern
 Las
 Vegas
 after
 his
 sister’s
 wedding,
 Darrin
 Hays
 was
 already
 hurting.
 He’d
 had
 a
 couple
 painkillers
 to
 take
 the
 edge
off,
 but
by
the
end
of
a
long
day
like
this,
they
were
never
enough.
 Just
 miles
 from
 his
 exit
 on
 the
 highway,
 he
 saw
 two
 cars
 up
 against
 the
 median,
 a
 very
 recent
 car
 wreck—he
 remembers
 the
 smoke
 coming
 from
 one
 car’s
 engine.
Approaching
the
driver
in
one
of
the
cars,
he
saw
a
familiar
face—nobody
he
 knew,
but
a
cold
gaze
he’d
seen
many
times
before
in
Iraq,
the
look
of
death.
It’s
like
it
 had
followed
him
home,
he
says
now.
He
checked
for
a
pulse
and
felt
nothing,
he
says.
 The
people
in
the
other
car
weren’t
injured,
and
asked
him
to
stay
and
help.
 Darrin
 couldn’t
 bring
 himself
 to
 do
 it.
 Leaning
 heavily
 on
 his
 cane,
 the
 40‐year‐old
 former
prison
warden
plodded
back
to
his
car
and
drove
home.
 “People
 tell
 me,
 ‘Oh,
 you
 should
 just
 let
 it
 out,’”
 he
 says
 of
 all
 the
 pain
 and
 frustration
he
feels
now.
“But
I
don’t
want
to.
I
don’t
want
to
let
this
demon
loose.
I
 want
to
keep
him
in
check.”
 A
veteran
prison
warden
from
Phoenix,
Darrin
went
to
Iraq
when
he
heard
 the
 kind
 of
 money
 being
 offered
 for
 a
 job
 that
 fit
 his
 skill
 set.
 He
 worked
 for
 a
 San
 Diego‐based
 company
 called
 SAIC,
 managing
 prison
 operations
 and
 training
 guards.
 After
 the
 scandal
 at
 the
 Abu
 Ghraib
 prison,
 Darrin
 was
 among
 the
 private
 workers
 sent
in
to
clean
up
its
operations.
 At
 another
 prison,
 when
 an
 inmate
 tried
 to
 escape
 one
 day,
 Darrin
 chased
 him
down
and
began
punching
and
wrestling
with
him
to
subdue
him.
After
getting
 up
and
handing
off
the
prisoner,
he
began
to
feel
an
intense
burning
in
his
next.
He
 took
some
painkillers
and
worked
through
the
injury,
but
when
the
Humvee
he
was
 riding
in
went
over
a
median
weeks
later,
landing
one
of
his
coworkers
on
top
of
him
 in
the
back
seat,
his
neck
and
back
injuries
returned
worse
than
ever.





52


Darrin
 came
 home
 to
 a
 series
 of
 complex
 spinal
 surgeries,
 unable
 to
 work
 and
with
little
to
do
while
he
tried
to
regulate
his
pain.
 “I
 was
 like
 a
 leaf
 in
 the
 wind,”
 he
 recalls.
 He
 and
 his
 wife
 Rhonda,
 a
 flight
 attendant,
 decided
 to
 have
 a
 child
 after
 he
 returned,
 and
 today
 he
 has
 a
 son
 and
 daughter
 named
 Ronin
 and
 Logan.
 “Now
 I
 have
 some
 purpose,
 some
 direction,”
 he
 says,
“and
it’s
great.”
 Still,
any
trip
out
of
the
house
takes
hours,
if
not
a
full
day
of
planning
ahead,
 so
he
can
lay
low
ahead
of
time,
to
be
sure
his
back
is
in
good
shape.
 Because
 his
 injuries
 don’t
 show
 in
 any
 outward
 way,
 like
 the
 scars
 from
 a
 bullet
or
an
explosion
would,
he’s
constantly
worried
about
what
others
think
of
his
 injury.
He’s
wary
of
being
looked
at
as
a
faker—“If
I
was
a
judge
looking
at
me,
I’d
say,
 well,
he
looks
good
enough
to
me.”
 While
 Darrin
 lives
 off
 his
 DBA
 worker’s
 compensation
 check,
 he
 goes
 on
 wondering
if
his
insurance
company
will
declare
him
“maximum
medically
improved”
 and
 decline
 to
 cover
 any
 more
 operations.
 Worst
 of
 all,
 though,
 is
 the
 very
 basic
 thought
that
he
looks
young
and
fit,
just
like
he
used
to
be,
but
that
he
feels
so
much
 older
now,
with
the
limited
mobility
of
someone
decades
older.





53


“I’d
like
to
go
back
there
quite
a
bit.

 I
have
to
get
over
them
fears,
to
get
on
with
my
life.”






 
 Fred
Gaus,
58
 Trucker,
KBR
 Worked
in
Iraq
April‐June
2008
 Multiple
injuries
from
IED
explosion
under
truck





54



 For
Fred
Gaus,
trucking
is
a
way
of
life.
Between
big
trucks
and
Harleys,
hhis
 day
 job
 and
 his
 vacations
 all
 revolve
 around
 the
 road.
 His
 wife
 Vardis
 is
 a
 trucker
 too—he
 proposed
 to
 her
 with
 a
 voicemail
 message
 left
 at
 a
 truck
 stop
 because
 her
 cargo
got
held
up.
 Even
 so,
 after
 a
 mine
 exploded
 under
 his
 truck
 in
 June
 2008,
 killing
 a
 friend
 of
 his
 who’d
been
riding
in
the
 passenger


seat,


it’s


surprising
 to
 hear
 how
 enthusiastic


Fred


is


about
 returning
 to
 war.
 “I’d
like
to
go
back
there
 quite
a
bit,”
he
says.
“I
have
to
get
over
them
fears,
to
get
on
with
my
life.”
 


He
says
he
went
to
Iraq
the
first
time
out
of
a
sense
of
patriotic
duty,
a
need


to
contribute
to
the
war
effort
and
support
the
troops.
Next
time,
just
as
soon
as
he’s
 recovered,
it’ll
be
more
personal,
he
says.
For
now,
he’s
at
home
in
Albuquerque,
in
a
 brace
when
he
walks
around,
and
missing
one
finger
on
his
right
hand.
He
stays
busy
 with
 physical
 therapy
 appointments,
 though,
 and
 says
 AIG
 has
 done
 a
 fine
 job
 handling
his
health
care—a
sign,
perhaps,
that
workers
injured
more
recently
won’t
 face
the
same
kinds
of
troubles
as
those
injured
earlier
in
the
war.
 





55








56


”I
don’t
have
hardly
any
fight
in
me
no
more.
 I’m
getting
too
old,
too
beaten
down.”






 
 Eddie
Barker,
52
 Trucker,
KBR
 Worked
in
Iraq
October
2005‐January
2006
 Neck
injury
from
falling
bulletproof
truck
window





57


Eddie
 Barker
 didn’t
 know
 what
 hit
 him.
 Pain
 that
 sudden
 and
 intense—it
 could’ve
been
a
gunshot,
or
maybe
an
IED
blast.
“All
I
knew
was,
I
was
getting
hurt,”
 he
says.
 What
 hit
 Eddie
 was
 the
 bulletproof
 glass
 window
 from
 the
 truck
 he
 was
 driving,
a
prototype
of
an
armored
KBR
truck.
He’d
been
standing
beside
the
truck
on
 the
 ground,
 when
 the
 three‐inch‐thick
 window
 fell
 off
 its
 hinges
 and
 landed
 on
 the
 top
of
his
head,
digging
a
large
gash
on
his
forehead
and
compressing
his
spine.
 He’d
been
in
Iraq
a
little
more
than
two
months,
hauling
in
convoys
between
 bases,
 hoping
 to
 make
 enough
 money
 to
 pay
 for
 his
 family’s
 new
 home
 in
 rural
 Maryland.

 Stricken
by
the
same
sort
of
chronic
back
pain
that’s
troubling
David
Boiles,
 Eddie
 spends
 his
 days
 at
 home,
 unable
 to
 walk
 much
 and
 keeping
 his
 Oxycontin
 dosage
high
to
regulate
the
pain.
 Worst
 of
 all,
 he
 says—worse
 than
 the
 physical
 pain
 or
 the
 thought
 of
 his
 tough
 luck
 in
 Iraq—is
 the
 way
 he’s
 been
 treated
 by
 AIG.
 Many
 injured
 conctractors
 have
 become
 amateur
 experts
 on
 obscure
 areas
 of
 federal
 law,
 and
 Barker
 is
 no
 exception—his
greatest
frustration,
he
says,
is
the
legal
protection
offered
AIG
under
 the
 Employee
 Retirement
 Income
 Security
 Act
 of
 1974
 (ERISA),
 which,
 simply
 put,
 protects
insurance
companies
from
claims
of
wrongdoing
if
they
deny
a
claim.
 Represented
 by
 Robert
 Walsh,
 a
 DBA
 attorney
 in
 Newport
 News,
 Virginia,
 Eddie
says
he’s
been
jumping
through
legal
hoops
since
he
got
back,
and
feels
like
AIG
 is
 seizing
 on
 any
 opportunity
 they
 can
 to
 cut
 off
 his
 disability
 checks.
 The
 company
 has
 started
 and
 then
 cut
 them
 off
 numerous
 times,
 he
 says.
 “If
 my
 paychecks
 were
 coming
 the
 way
 they
 were
 supposed
 to
 be
 coming,
 it’s
 fine,
 but
 now
 that
 it’s
 stopped….”





58


Eddie
trails
off
frequently,
and
even
when
he’s
telling
the
story
of
his
injury,
 he
speaks
slowly,
staring
straight
ahead,
as
if
talking
through
a
mental
haze.
His
anger
 toward
AIG
is
intense,
but
there’s
a
great
deal
of
resignation
in
his
voice
as
well.
 Just
 a
 week
 before
 my
 visit
 to
 his
 house,
 he’d
 called
 his
 doctor’s
 office
 and
 told
the
receptionist
he
was
done
fighting.
He’d
gotten
his
gun
and,
with
his
family
out
 of
 the
 house,
 was
 contemplating
 suicide.
 The
 nurse
 put
 him
 on
 hold
 and
 called
 the
 state
troopers,
who
came
to
his
house
to
talk
him
down.
After
things
developed
into
a
 brief
standoff,
Eddie
was
led
away
in
handcuffs.
 “My
 daddy
 used
 to
 tell
 me,
 ‘Boy,
 you’re
 meaner
 than
 a
 wompus
 cat,’”
 Eddie
 says.
 “I
 used
 to
 have
 a
 lot
 of
 fight
 in
 me.
 But
 I
 don’t
 have
 hardly
 any
 fight
 in
 me
 no
 more.
I’m
getting
to
feel
too
old,
too
beaten
down.”








59


”It
doesn’t
really
matter
where
you’re
at,
after
PTSD
is
there.
 It’s
always
there.”






 
 Wallace
McNabb,
53
 Trucker,
KBR
 Worked
in
Iraq
October
2004‐March
2005,
August
2005‐March
2006,
September
 2007,
July
2008
 Gunshot
wounds,
PTSD;
foot
injury
suffered
on‐base





60



 “I
 hate
 days
 like
 today,”
 Wallace
 says.
 It’s
 cold,
 wet
 and
 overcast
 outside
 in
 Mankato,
 the
 northern
 Kansas
 town
 where
 he
 grew
 up.
 We’re
 sitting
 in
 the
 living
 room
of
his
mother’s
house,
where
Wallace
lives
now
that
he’s
back
from
his
third
 stint
working
in
Iraq.
The
walls
are
covered
in
photos
of
family
members
in
uniform,
 including


Wallace,


who
was
in
the
Army
 in
 the
 late
 ‘70s.
 Also
 framed
 and
 hanging
 on
 the
 wall
 is
 his
 Defense
 of
 Freedom
 medal,


which


he


received
 after
 being
 shot
in
March
2005.
 He
 and
 his
 mother
 have
 been
 canning
 pears
 picked
 from
 the
 trees
 in
 the
 backyard;
 dozens
 of
 jars
sit
on
the
kitchen
counter.
It’s
the
kind
of
activity
Wallace
says
he
needs
when
 he’s
 home
 now—anything
 to
 stay
 occupied,
 to
 keep
 his
 mind
 off
 the
 war.
 He
 put
 9,000
 miles
 on
 his
 Harley
 right
 after
 he
 got
 back
 from
 Iraq
 the
 last
 time,
 visiting
 friends
in
Colorado,
riding
up
to
Milwaukee.
 Gray,
 quiet
 days
 like
 this,
 he’s
 stuck
 inside
 and
 his
 mind
 wanders
 back
 to
 Iraq.
He’s
drawn
back
to
the
place—not
only
for
the
patriotic
call,
the
sense
of
duty,
 but
also
for
the
adrenaline
rush
that
comes
from
the
work.
As
much
as
he
dreads
the
 place,
he
misses
the
rush
that
came
with
gearing
up
for
a
convoy
outside
the
wire.
 He
joined
up
with
KBR
early
in
the
war,
and
after
he
was
shot
he
decided
to
 go
 back
 as
 soon
 as
 he
 was
 well
 enough
 to
 drive.
 His
 worker’s
 compensation
 claim





61


was
 still
 sitting
 in
 court
 when
 he
 flew
 back.
 “It’s
 like
 getting
 back
 on
 the
 horse,”
 Wallace
says,
“I
thought
it
would
help.
But
I
haven’t
gotten
any
better.”
 Wallace
 knew
 he
 was
 suffering
 from
 PTSD
 when
 he
 got
 back
 to
 Kansas
 the
 first
 time.
 He’d
 have
 flashbacks,
 trouble
 sleeping,
 those
 telltale
 symptoms.
 He
 was
 shot
 at
 again
 after
 he
 returned
 to
 Iraq,
 but
 says
 those
 experiences
 were
 just
 as
 traumatic
 for
 him
 as
 times
 he’d
 get
 startled
 back
 home—when,
 for
 instance,
 a
 woman
dropped
a
plastic
water
jug
full
of
coins
on
the
floor
behind
him
at
the
bank.
 “It
really
doesn’t
matter
where
you’re
at,
after
PTSD
is
there.
It’s
always
there,”
he
 says.





62


”They
don’t
need
to
worry
about
me.

 They
need
to
worry
about
the
guys
that
aren’t
getting
help.”






 
 Tate
Mallory,
36
 Police
trainer,
Dyncorp
 Worked
in
Iraq
July‐October
2006

 RPG
entry/exit
wounds





63






Tate
Mallory,
a
South
Dakota
police
veteran
injured
in
Iraq
when
an
RPG
flew


through
 his
 Humvee
 seat
 and
 punched
 a
 hole
 in
 his
 abdomen,
 considers
 himself
 incredibly
lucky.
 


That
may
say
more
about
the
contractors
he’s
met
who’ve
had
to
fight
long


battles
in
court
for
their
insurance
benefits,
but
is
says
plenty
about
his
attitude
and
 resolve,
too.
 


After
 14
 years
 in
 police


departments


around


South


Dakota,
 Tate
 joined
 Dyncorp
 to
 recruit
 and
 train
 a
 new
 Iraqi
 police
 force.
 He
 liked
 the
 work,
 but
 he
 only
 narrowly
 escaped
 with
 his
 life—he
 credits
 the
 Marines


accompanying


his


Humvee,
who
were
able
to
stop
 his
 intense
 bleeding
 with
 copious
amounts
of
QuikClot.
 


He
 returned
 home
 to
 a


new
girlfriend,
Kari,
who
he
met
online
while
in
Iraq,
and
who
tracked
him
down
at
 the
 hospital
 in
 Germany
 after
 he
 failed
 to
 reply
 to
 her
 emails.
 While
 he
 slowly
 recovered
in
the
hospital,
she
was
there
to
support
him
through
some
of
his
darkest
 times.
 He
remembers
now
how
he’d
yell
and
tell
her
to
get
out,
in
the
depths
of
his
 depression,
not
knowing
how
well
he’d
recover.
“It
was
like
watching
his
spirit
die
 right
in
front
of
me,”
Kari
recalls.





64





A
 Dyncorp
 representative
 met
 him
 at
 the
 hospital,
 he
 says,
 and
 helped
 him


through
 his
 insurance
 claims
 and
 worker’s
 compensation
 paperwork.
 It’s
 just
 the
 kind
 of
 support
 he’s
 heard
 truck
 drivers
 lament
 they
 never
 received.
 As
 his
 body
 recovered
and
he
became
more
active,
he
says,
the
depression
passed
too.
Thoughts
 about
 how
 close
 he
 came
 to
 dying
 still
 come
 back
 to
 him
 from
 time
 to
 time,
 but
 today
Tate
feels
like
he’s
come
out
the
other
side
of
a
long,
dark
tunnel.
He’s
enrolled
 in
classes
at
the
University
of
South
Dakota,
just
down
the
street
from
his
house
in
 Vermillion,
and
is
working
on
a
degree
that
will
let
him
teach
police
training
courses
 in
the
classroom.
 





65


“I
was
an
infantryman
in
Vietnam,
and
special
forces.
 I
had
a
lot
of
pride.
And
now
look.”






 
 Clyde
Nipper,
60
 Trucker,
KBR
 Worked
in
Iraq
November
2004‐November
2005
 Massive
head
injuries
from
an
IED
blast
under
his
truck





66


It
 was
 to
 be
 Clyde
 Nipper’s
 last
 convoy
 outside
 the
 wire—one
 last
 run
 through
 Baghdad
down
to
Kuwait,
before
moving
to
a
cushy,
high‐paying
job
on‐base.
 At
 56
 years
 old,
 he’d
 already
 spent
 decades
 driving
 trucks,
 then
 organizing
 trucking
 operations,
 and
 just
 before
 he
 left
 for
 Iraq,
 teaching
 students
 how
 to
 drive
 big
 trucks.
 When
 he
 landed
 in
 Iraq,
 Nipper
 says
 he
 was
 surprised
 KBR
 was
 placing
 him
 in
 a
 basic
 trucking
 job.
 With
 management
 experience
 and
 a
 nearly
 finished
 Master’s
degree
in
business,
he
says
he
was
overqualified.
 A
 full
 year
 into
 his
 tour,
 he
 was
 finally
 being
 handed
 the
 promotion
 he
 says
 recruiters
told
him
he’d
receive
as
soon
as
he
landed
in
Iraq,
a
higher
paying
job
in
 the
relative
safety
of
Camp
Anaconda,
or
inside
another
American
post.
 First,
though,
Nipper
had
one
more
run
to
make.
He
drove
a
heavy
equipment
 carrier,
a
hefty
rig
that
takes
two
people
to
operate
(the
same
kind
Fred
Gaus
drove).
 That
 truck
 always
 fell
 into
 the
 rear
 end
 of
 the
 convoy
 –
 normally
 a
 safe
 place
 to
 be
 when
the
biggest
concerns
are
IEDs
waiting
in
the
road
ahead.
 
 In
 the
 earliest
hours
of
 the
 morning,
rumbling
down
 the
streets
 of
 Baghdad,
 Nipper
 was
looking
ahead—thinking
about
his
new
job,
more
money,
safety
and
a
chance
to
 finish
paying
off
his
home
in
Salt
Lake
City,
to
finish
what
he’d
come
here
to
do.
 Then
 he
 caught
 a
 glimpse
 of
 someone
 leaping
 out
 at
 his
 left
 and
 hurling
 something
 under
 his
 truck.
 The
 explosion
 ripped
 gaping
 holes
 in
 his
 truck,
 sent
 shrapnel
hurtling
into
his
face.
 Furious,
and
probably,
he
says
now,
in
shock,
Nipper
broke
formation
with
the
 convoy
and
chased
his
attacker
for
half
a
block.
“He
was
off
to
the
side
of
the
road,”
 Nipper
recalls.
“The
truck
died
out
on
me
before
I
got
him.
The
military
came
in
after
 the
truck
stopped
and
took
us
out.”





67


Weeks
later,
soldiers
told
Clyde’s
wife
how
they
found
his
left
eye
dangling
out
 of
its
socket;
they
had
to
put
it
back
in
place
and
wrap
his
head
in
gauze.
Even
then,
 slumped
 beside
 his
 broken‐down
 truck,
 Nipper
 was
 in
 such
 shock
 that
 he
 lit
 up
 a
 cigarette
while
he
waited
to
be
hauled
away.
A
medic
returned
with
a
knockout
dose
 of
morphine,
and
for
the
next
few
weeks
Clyde
hopscotched
from
Baghdad
to
Utah,
as
 surgeons
at
each
stop
worked
to
save
his
life.
 
 Clyde
 is
 a
 markedly
 different
 man
 today
 than
 he
 was
 before
 the
 attack.
 An
 infantryman
 in
 Vietnam
 and
a
Green
 Beret


in


National


the
 Guard,


Utah
 he


spent
 decades
 handling
 transportation
 logistics—complicated
 work
that
kept
him
working
long
hours—or
long‐haul
trucking
because
the
pay
was
 better,
which
kept
him
away
from
home
even
more.
 The
job
in
Iraq
was
going
to
be
his
last
one,
the
big
paycheck
that’d
cover
the
 mortgage
and
a
comfortable
retirement
with
his
wife
Kristine.

 After
 the
 brain
 damage
 Clyde
 received
 in
 the
 blast,
 he’s
 not
 only
 unable
 to
 work,
but
unable
to
care
for
himself.
He
has
seizures,
reads
and
writes
at
a
fifth‐grade
 level,
and
has
very
little
short‐term
memory.
Kristine
takes
care
of
him
full‐time.
 “I
tell
people
that
I
have
part
man
and
part
12‐year‐old,”
she
says.
“I’m
sure
it
 doesn’t
do
a
whole
lot
for
his
ego.”





68


Clyde
 sees
 the
 change
 in
 himself.
 “I
 was
 an
 infantryman
 in
 Vietnam,
 and
 special
forces
out
of
there.
I
had
a
lot
of
pride,”
he
says.
“And
now
look.”
 Clyde
points
out
the
place
where
there’s
a
gap
between
the
metal
plate
in
his
 head
 and
 his
 skull.
 In
 photos
 taken
 just
 after
 one
 of
 his
 brain
 operations,
 his
 head
 looks
sunken‐in
at
that
spot;
now,
with
his
white
hair
grown
back,
there’s
just
a
hint
 of
asymmetry
to
his
head.
He
still
has
shrapnel
from
the
blast
in
his
head,
behind
his
 false
left
eye.
“They
said
it
acts
like
a
plug
in
his
brain,
so
they’re
afraid
to
take
it
out,”
 Kristine
says.
“They’ll
just
leave
it
in
and
the
body
will
eventually
encapsulate
it.”
 The
 biggest
 of
 Clyde’s
 health
 problems
 now
 are
 the
 seizures
 he’s
 been
 getting—severe
ones
every
few
months,
minor
ones
more
often.
After
the
last
big
one,
 he
slept
almost
an
entire
day.
 His
 medication
 and
 other
 health
 care
 has
 been
 covered
 so
 far,
 but
 Kristine
 worries
that
his
benefits
will
be
cut
off,
as
his
case
worker
has
suggested
they
might,
 since
it’s
been
so
long
since
the
injury.
 Kristine’s
health
insurance
cut
off
once
KBR
laid
Clyde
off.
She
says
taking
care
 of
Clyde
is
her
full‐time
job,
since
he
has
trouble
walking
some
days,
and
can’t
drive
 himself
to
the
doctor.
Once
while
Kristine
was
at
the
hospital
with
Clyde,
the
pressure
 boiled
 over
 and
 she
 suffered
 a
 panic
 attack
 with
 severe
 chest
 pains—she
 was
 admitted
on
the
spot,
and
has
been
taking
medication
for
her
heart
ever
since.
 Instead
of
paying
off
their
mortgage,
the
couple
has
refinanced
their
house
in
 the
 years
 since
 Clyde
 returned.
 Clyde
 spends
 his
 days
 in
 the
 backyard,
 watching
 movies
on
a
portable
DVD
player,
and
taking
medication
to
control
his
seizures
when
 Kristine
reminds
him.
 
“She
has
a
lot
of—I
don’t
know
what
you
want
to
call
it,”
he
says,
“to
stay
with
 me
 and
 deal
 with
 this.
 There’s
 got
 to
 be
 a
 whole
 lot
 of
 love
 there
 somewhere.”




69


IV.
Appendix:
Selected
Interview
Transcripts
 Darrin
Hays,
Interviewed
August
11,
2008,
in
Las
Vegas,
Nevada
 00:20
 You
start
thinking,
workers’
comp
for
four
years.
You
start
thinking
you’re
a
burden.
 It’s
hard
to
do
much
of
anything.
Like,
I
knew
in
advance
that
I’d
be
talking
to
you,
so
 I
 kind
 of
 planned
 my
 day
 to
 do
 nothing
 yesterday,
 so
 
 Icoudl
 get
 up
 and
 do
 this
 today.
 In
 a
 couple
 hours,
 there’s
 a
 pain
 that
 radiates
 down
 my
 right
 side,
 it’s
 the
 sciatic
nerve.
It
comes
right
up,
all
the
way
around,
wraps
around
the
front
of
my
leg
 and
comes
right
down
to
my
toe,
and
it
just,
it’s
just
an
ache,
a
pulling.
 
 1:12
 I’ll
 feel
 a
 needle
 somewhere
 in
 my
 leg.
 And
 what
 can
 you
 do?
 I
 do
 Ibuprofen.
 I
 do
 Lortabs,
but
they
make
me
sick.
But

Istill
do.
I
have
to
pop
em
every
os
often.
I
have
 a
presciriptoin
for
two
a
day.
There
are
some
days
I
can
split
it
up
and
do
one,
other
 days
I
need
three.
 
 1:50
 Today
I
actually
feel
pretty
good
because
I
took
off
all
yesterday,
but
come
tonight,
 I’m
gonna
be
hurtin.
It’s
a
lot
of
the
sitting.
If
I
could
sit
like
this,
keep
the
leg
almost
 straight,
 it
 would
 be
 a
 lot
 better.
 But
 what
 happens
 is,
 no
 more
 than
 an
 hour
 nad
 then
I
gotta
either
stand
or
lay
down.
 
 2:45
 Sure,
it
was
horrible
after
the
surgeries
and
all
that,
but
what’s
amazing
is,
it
hasn’t
 gotten
any
better.
And
I
was
fitted
for
a
–
it’s
a
spinal
cord
stimulator.
They
put
you
 on
a
table,
and
they
inject
you
with
some
stuff
to
relax
you,
but
you’re
still
awake.
 Then
 you
 sit
 there
 and
 they
 put
 these
 needles
 in
 your
 back,
 and
 inside
 the
 needle
 they
 have
 this
 little
 electrode,
 and
 the
 electrode
 is
 left
 in
 there
 on
 both
 sides
 ,and
 they
keep
the
electrodes
in
there
and
they
tape
over
your
body
so
it
doesn’t
move.
 And
it’s
pretty
much
some
wires
and
you
dial
left
or
right,
whichever
one
you
need
 more,
 as
 far
 as
 more
 electricity.
 And
 it’s
 this
 –
 you
 ever
 held
 onto
 one
 of
 those
 machines
that
puts
the
current
through
your
body?
It’s
this
odd
electrical
tingle.
And
 it
goes
down
your
left
or
your
right
side.
It
will
trick
your
body
into
not
feeling
the
 pain.
Just
feel
the
tingle.
I
felt
both
–
I
felt
the
odd
tingling
and
the
pain.





70



 4:42
 Apparently
 when
 the
 y
 rolled
 me
 off
 the
 table,
 one
 of
 the
 electrodes
 came
 out.
 Somewhere
 in
 my
 spinal
 cord
 it
 pulled
 out,
 and
 I
 could
 feel
 it
 somewhere
 in
 my
 stomach.
 All
 these
 shocks,
 you
 know.
 I
 thought
 it
 was
 a
 horrible
 failure,
 and
 they
 said,
 the
 doctor,
 oh
 did
 you
 get
 relief?
 I
 said,
 I
 guess…
 I
 was
 under
 sedation.
 They
 wanted
me
to
do
it
again,
but
then
I
saw
this
other
doctor.
 
 5:00
 I
didn’t
pick
them,
my
case
worker
picked
him.
I
asked
him,
what
would
you
do?
He
 says,
I
can’t
tell
you
what
to
do.
 
 5:35
 The
 DOL
 stayed
 out
 of
 it
 for
 a
 long
 time.
 It
 was
 in
 NY,
 then
 they
 moved
 it
 to
 San
 Francisco.
 There’s
 a
 Maria
 Mayrand,
 she’s
 the
 dept,
 my
 contact
 at
 the
 DOL.
 And
 she’s
really
nice
too,
I’ve
talked
to
her
a
couple
of
times.
 
 7:23
 In
four
years
I’ve
been
getting
worker’s
comp,
but
I
always
–
number
one,
I
always
 feel
guilty.
Everyone
says,
why?
Because,
I,
I
do.
And
then
when
you
think
about
4
 years,
that
seems
like
a
big
drain.
So
there’s
some
guilt
there.
And
then
you
always
 think
 ,well
 they
 could
 pull
 it
 any
 time.
 What
 if
 they
 decide
 to
 stop
 sending
 checks.
 And
then
what
do
you
do?
How
do
you
feel
your
family?
So
there’s
always
this
fear.
 Always,
there’s
this
fear.
 
 8:04
 Beacause,
 they
 could
 pay
 hardball,
 the
 insurance
 company.
 Esis
 (insurance
 company),
 and
 they’re
 a
 division
 of
 ACE,
 I
 guess.
 I
 tell
 you
 what
 I’ve
 been
 so
 fortunate,
because
I
hear
the
horror
stories.
I
was
so
blessed
to
have
an
insurance
 company
 that
 played
 by
 the
 rules
 and
 didn’t
 shirk
 their
 responsibilities.
 They’ve
 never
missed
a
weekly
check.
 11:26





71


I
felt
pretty
good
that
out
of
the
two
guys
that
know
it
the
best,
they
work
together.
 They
hear
each
other’s
cases.
That
made
me
feel
a
lot
better
that
I
went
in
with
the
 right
person.
Cause
this
is
it,
this
is
the
one
shot.
Just
think
what
happens
if
–
I
still
 don’t
know
what
happens.
We
go
in,
we
have
a
hearing,
they
say,
‘Ah
you’re
fine,
go
 back
to
work,
whatever.’
And
that’s
scary.
 
 12:00
 Because
 I
 could
 walk
 in
 there
 and
 they
 could
 say,
 how
 come
 you
 can’t
 work?
 You
 look
fine.
You
look
great.

 12:25
 They
could
just
say,
you
look
good
to
me.
You
could
do
a
home‐based
business.
 13:00
 I’m
always
at
my
worst
when
I’m
driving
because
it
means
that
I’m
not
taking
the
 medication.
I
could
take
the
ibuprofen,
but
I’m
not
taking
the
Loritab.
So
how
do
you
 function
everyday
when
you
have
to
drive
to
work,
and
pop
pills,
and
then
you’re
on
 the
road
under
the
influence.
Ah!
It’s
just
a
huge
cycle
of,
what
do
you
do?
 
 13:30
 I’d
love
to
get
into
other
things,
in
fact
I’ve
been
investing
in
a
restaurant
group.
Hey
 you
guys,
I’ll
help
fund
it,
cause
I
had
a
little
extra
money
from
being
in
Iraq,
and
you
 guys
 just
 send
 me
 some
 money
 when
 you
 start
 making
 it.
 And
 they
 haven’t
 yet
 because
the
economy’s
been
in
a
downturn.
But
just
don’t
close
your
doors.
What
do
 you
do?
 14:10
 In
fact
I’ve
got
two
kids
–
that
was
a
tough
thing
to
do
–
I’ve
got
two
kids
since
then.
 When
 I
 got
 back
 from
 Iraq,
 life
 was
 so
 cheap
 over
 there,
 it
 became
 very
 very
 important
to
me.
Especially
when
you
come
back
injured.
So
it’s
been
pretty
difficult,
 but
we
tried
and
we
obviously
succeeded
in
having
a
couple
kids.
And
that
worked
 out
very
nice.
 14:45
 And
it’s
pretty
much
the
sole
purpose,
just
having
kids,
because
trying
to
make
love
 to
 your
 wife
 like
 this
 –
 it’s
 just
 –
 she’s
 a
 saint.
 You
 obviously
 have
 to
 manipulate





72


things
 in
 your
 environment,
 but
 I’m
 just
 saying
 –
 I’m
 not
 getting
 all
 crazy
 and
 everything.
 15:10
 I’ve
got
one
who’s
just
about
to
be
one
year
old,
and
got
another
that’s
3,
3
½
almost
 four.
My
wife
is
a
flight
attendant
for
Southwest
Airlines.
She
leaves,
and
her
mom
 will
fly
out
from
Phoenix,
or
my
mom
will
fly
out
from
Phoenix
to
watch
the
kids.
I
 can’t
pick
them
up.
If
something
happens…
What
happens
if
dad’s
in
so
much
pain
 that
he
can’t
get
in
the
car
and
drive,
or
he
took
a
pill.
 16:40
 Other
than
a
really
screwed
up
body,
I’m
in
good
health.
 17:00
 I’ve
 been
 considered,
 since
 December
 10th
 of
 ’07,
 I’ve
 been
 considered
 MMI.
 Maximum
Medically
Improved.
It
means,
we
can’t
do
anything
more
for
you.
We
can
 give
you
drugs,
and
treat
the
pain,
but
we
can’t
do
anything
more.
Which
I
think
is

a
 crock.
 Because
 I’ve
 never
 done
 acupuncture
 or
 acupressure,
 or
 chiromanipulation,
 or
anything
like
that.
And
I’m
not
saying
that
those
are
going
to
be
great,
btu
at
least
 it
would’ve
been
something
to
try
instead
of
just
washing
your
hands
of
me,
which
is
 kind
of
what
I
feel
like.
Red‐headed
stepchild
kind
of
thing.
 18:17
 So
on
October
7th,
what’s
going
ot
happen
is
the
insurance
company’s
going
to
hav
 their
attorney,
andI
have
my
attorney,
and
they
go
in
front
of
these
administrative
 law
judges.
And
I
guess
they
hear
the
case
and
make
a
ruling.
And
I
don’t
know
how
 long
 it
 takes
 to
 make
 a
 ruling
 or
 anything
 like
 that.
 I
 just
 know
 that
 they’re
 gonna
 hear
it,
here
in
Vegas.
And
at
some
point,
a
hearing’s
going
to
come
out
as
to
what
I
 can
do,
or
what
they
think
I
can
do.
 18:56
 Like
I
say,
Gary
Pitts
seems
pretty
confident.
He
says,
Darrin,
I
wouldn’t
have
taken
 your
case
unless
I
felt
like
it
was
going
to
be
fruitful.
Even
if
they
think
you
can
do
a
 part‐time
 –
 even
 if
 they
 said
 you
 have
 the
 ability
 to
 make
 this
 much
 income,
 ultimately
 you
 take
 what
 you’d
 been
 making
 before
 in
 the
 same
 field,
 and
 you
 try
 and
 put
 it
 into
 something
 oyu
 can
 do
 now,
 you’re
 not
 gonna
 lose
 a
 whole
 lot
 of
 benefit.
Very
positive,
but
until
it
happens
you’ve
always
got
that…
 That’s
 how
 much
 worker’s
 comp
 gives
 is
 2/3
 of
 that
 amount.
 Right
 now
 I
 make
 a
 thousand
[a
week].





73


23:40
 I
 feel
 like
 I
 –
 I
 don’t
 really
 know
 what
 happens.
 I
 feel
 like
 I
 can
 lose
 everything.
 I
 really
do.
I
feel
like,
if
I
get
in
my
car
and
I
go
to
the
bar,
because
I
tell
you
what,
it’s
a
 lot
easier
to
pop
a
couple
ibuprofen
and
drink
two
beers
than
it
is
to
take
a
lortab,
 your
stomach
being
what
it
is.
Because
it
still
takes
the
edge
off.
I
feel
the
pain,
but
it
 takes
the
edge
off.
 24:20
 But
I
always
feel
like
there’s
someone
looking
at
me,
from
the
insurance
company.
 Look,
 he
 can
 do
 that.
 Look,
 he’s
 meeting
 that
 guy,
 he’s
 standing
 right
 there.
 You
 always
think,
there’s
someone
out
there
looking
at
me,
watcihing.
Cause
you
always
 see
 those
 morons
 that
 sure
 somebody
 for
 something,
 and
 you
 see
 them
 out
 there
 doing
yardwork,
throwing
hay
bales
or
dancing
at
a
party.
One
lady
they
showed
the
 other
 day,
 she
 won
 a
 million
 dollars
 in
 a
 suit,
 nad
 three
 months
 later
 you
 see
 her
 crossing
the
finish
line
at
a
marathon.
 25:20

 So
 they
 can
 misconstrue
 it.
 They
 think
 oh
 look,
 he
 can
 obviously
 take
 out
 the
 garbage,
so
he
can
be
a
garbage
man.
That
doesn’t
make
any
sense.
I
can
do
it
one
 time,
twice
a
week.
So
there’s
always
the
fear.
So
October
7th
is
supposed
to
be
the
 day,
I
fele
like
I
can
lose
everything.
 26:00
 They’d
much
rather
say,
here’s
400,000
dollars,
would
you
like
to
be
done
with
it?
 That
 seems
 like
 a
 windfall,
 but
 at
 the
 same
 time,
 with
 my
 back
 and
 neck,
 over
 the
 course
of
a
lifetime
if
I
live
to
be
70,
I
got
30
more
and
I
can’t
do
anything.
Nobody
 will
 insure
 me.
 It’s
 absolutely
 nothing.
 Cause
 ultimately,
 it’s
 almost
 embarrassing,
 it’s
2
million
dollars
over
the
course
of
a
lifetime.
 27:15
 So
 the
 first
 injury
 was
 march
 27
 of
 2004.
 
 I
 had
 been
 in
 country
 for
 about
 three
 months
 –
 I
 had
 a
 four
 month
 contract
 and
 I’d
 renew
 every
 four
 months.
 So
 about
 three
motnhs
in,
we
–
I’m
a
prison
warden,
and
I’m
what’s
called
a
prison
adviser.
So
 I’m
teaching
the
colonel
in
the
Iraqi
military
and
all
his
people
how
to
be
corrections
 officials
–
whether
it’s
corrections
officers,
corrections
administrators,
this
is
what
I
 do.
I
teach
them
to
run
the
facility,
as
well
as
building
facilities.
 
 28:06





74


So
 Marc
 h27
 we
 get
 out
 to
 the
 facility,
 that
 one
 is
 called
 Al
 Khadimiya.
 And
 it’s
 in
 northern
 Baghdad.
 So
 naturally
 we
 go
 through
 Indian
 country,
 do
 that
 every
 day,
 through
 a
 street
 called
 Haifa
 street.You
 ever
 look
 up
 Haifa
 street
 in
 Baghdad
 –
 we
 travel
up
that
thing
every
day.
I’d
find
5
or
6
different
ways
to
do
it
every
day,
just
 cause
 I
 didn’t
 want
 to
 telepath
 it
 every
 single
 day.
 I’d
 do
 it
 different
 ways,
 and
 sometimes
 people’d
 be
 freaked
 out
 because
 they
 didn’t
 know
 where
 they
 were.
 Sometimes
I
didn’t
either.

 29:00
 Whenever
 we’d
 get
 caught
 in
 a
 traffic
 jam,
 gigantic
 buildings
 everywhere,
 donkey
 carts.
 You’re
 freaked,
 because
 you’re
 providing
 your
 own
 security
 in
 a
 soft‐shell
 vehicle.
It’s
just
two
vehicles,
I
mean
we
are
quick
on
the
trigger.
 29:18
 Two
 little
 cars,
 they
 called
 them
 Nissan
 patrols,
 pretty
 much
 a
 Pathfinder.
 With
 a
 suped
up
engine,
but
a
stick
shift.
Now
imagine
this,
you
got
an
AK‐47
with
a
pistol
 grip.
Because
you
can’t
have
an
extended
rifle…
And
we’re
in
soft
shells.
I’m
trying
to
 draw
 my
 weapon
 out
 across
 the
 nose
 of
 any
 threat…[gets
 more
 enthusiastic
 describing
 it,
 bangs
 on
 table]…
 and
 we’re
 providing
 our
 own
 security.
 We
 didn’t
 have
a
lot
of
time,
we
had
to
make
things
happen
without
waiting
for
the
military.
 30:22
 So
 anyway,
 I
 get
 to
 the
 facility.
 We
 housed
 about
 300
 iraqi
 prisoners,
 prisoners
 of
 war.
 Whatever,
 what
 we
 did
 is
 try
 and
 classify
 them,
 fingerprinting,
 pictures,
 background,
 who
 they
 were.
 Try
 to
 create
 some
 kind
 of
 information
 that
 could
 transfer
to
the
military
database.
We’d
let
them
know
who
we
had.
We’d
try
to
just
 get
the
guys
who
were
thieves
and
murderers,
and
we
had
a
lot
of
murderers
in
our
 place.
But
they
weren’t
necessarily
crimes
against
the
coalition.
Pretty
much
crimes
 against
everyone
else,
other
Iraqis.
 31:44
 What’s
 great
 about
 Saddam
 –
 and
 Saddam
 was
 pretty
 bad
 –
 but
 he
 could
 manage
 people
 through
 fear
 and
 intimidation.
 We’d
 give
 thme
 nidce
 cots,
 we’d
 give
 them
 toothbrushes,
 they’ve
 never
 brushed
 their
 teeth
 in
 their
 life.
 We’d
 give
 them
 underwear,
 they’ve
 never
 worn
 underwear
 in
 their
 life.
 We’d
 give
 them
 beds,
 they’ve
 never
 slept
 above
 ground
 level
 in
 their
 life.
 And
 what
 do
 they
 do
 with
 it?
 They
 make
 weapons.
 They
 tear
 apart
 the
 beds
 and
 the
 metal.
 They
 tear
 up
 the
 underwear
 and
 make
 slingshots
 and
 bows
 to
 use
 against
 us.
 But
 we
 had
 to
 under
 geneve
convention.
 32:45





75


So
we’re
in
these
old
prisons,
they’re
really
beat
up.
And
they’d
try
and
escape
all
the
 time.
Dig
out,
climb
out
on
the
roof.
We’re
not
there
usually
at
night.
We
had
to
go
 back
to
our
hotel,
which
is
in
the
red
zone
in
Baghdad.
The
Baghdad
hotel
–
that’s
 where
we
stayed
the
first
two
months.
Then
the
al
sadir,
which
is
way
into
Indian
 country,
toward
Sadr
City.
 34:00
 So
we
get
there,
the
guys
are
escaping.
And
the
Americans
come
in,
there
were
six
of
 us,
 I’m
 the
 warden
 and
 I
 have
 some
 other
 trainers
 that
 are
 training
 and
 like
 a
 captain.
So
I
have
a
captain
and
some
trainers.
And
they
say,
oh
the
Americans
are
 here.
 34:36
 So
sure
enough,
we
have
an
escape.
One
particular
inmate
breaks
out
of
his
cell,
and
 I’m
 not
 supposed
 to
 be
 engaging
 them,
 I’m
 the
 frickin’
 warden.
 But
 I’m
 like,
 I’m
 gonna
 show
 them
 how
 we
 do
 it.
 So
 the
 guy
 jumps
 around,
 it’s
 probably
 noon,
 but
 there’s
no
windows
in
the
center
of
it.
There’s
windows
in
the
side,
but
for
the
most
 part
it’s
pretty
dark
if
you
don’t
have
lights.
 35:04
 Well,
the
guy’s
running
down
the
hall,
and
I
go
after
him.
Cause
he’s
a
rabbit
and
I’m
 the
 dog,
 and
 this
 is
 what
 we
 do:
 we
 chase.
 He
 jumps
 up
 and
 the
 lighting
 systems
 have
wiring
and
he
jumps
up
and
tears
the
wiring
down.
So
I’m
thinking,
he’s
either
 trying
ot
get
away
or
he’s
trying
to
hang
himself
or
he’s
trying
to
use
it
as
a
weapon,
 I
don’t
know.
So
he
takes
it
and
the
lights
go
out.
Aw
crap,
here
we
go.
We
all
have
 flashlights.
 35:33
 I’m
already
in
full
chase.
I
just
tackle
him,
bring
him
down,
wham.
One
of
my
other
 trainers
grabs
his
legs,
and
we
subdue
him.
I
get
up
and
my
neck
is
just
on
fire.
Just
 like
that.
I
mean,
it
was
just
like
textbook
dropped
him,
get
up
and
it’s
just
heat.
And
 so
what
do
I
do,
we
get
him
subdued,
we
get
him
to
the
Iraqis.
I
have
a
nice
smile
on
 my
face
and
I
say,
get
me
the
hell
out
of
here.
They
walk
me
out,
I
just
go
sit
down
 and
 I
 said,
 I’m
 just
 gonna
 sit
 here
 for
 like
 30
 minutes
 ,and
 I
 relax,
 try
 to
 get
 that
 going
and
nothing.
Wasn’t
feeling
any
relief.
 36:30
 So
we
all
took
off,
went
to
another
prison
and
I’m
just
sitting
there,
waiting
for
this
 thing
to
wear
off,
work
itself
out.
It’s
never
hurt
like
that
before
in
my
life.
I
mean,
 I’ve
had
back
problems
in
my
life,
but
never…
this
was
just…
whoah.





76


36:57
 I
had
done
this
for
7
½
years
before
in
the
states.
And
I
was
a
warden
in
phoenix.
 37:17
 It
 didn’t
 wear
 off,
 and
 I
 ended
 up
 going
 to
 a
 combat
 support
 hospital
 in
 the
 green
 zone.
 And
 I’m
 sitting
 there,
 and
 I’m
 seeing
 the
 helicopters
 rolling
 in,
 guys
 with
 no
 arms,
 eyeballs
 popped
 out.
 Their
 heads
 are
 just
 crushed,
 rolled
 over…
 and
 I’m
 complaining
 about
 my
 poor
 neck.
 My
 neck
 hurts.
 And
 I
 mean,
 I
 just
 felt
 like
 a
 douchebag.
What
am
I
doing?
 38:40
 So
the
kiss
of
death
in
any
of
these
is
to
go
home
–
to
go
home
injured
or
to
go
home
 early.
You
want
to
fulfill
the
end
of
your
contract.
You
want
to.
They
make
you
do
it
 if
you
ever
want
to
work
for
them
again.
So
I
wrote
my
reports,
did
what
I
had
to
as
 far
as
the
injury,
but
I
stayed
on.
 39:00
 Well
 about
 a
 month
 on,
 three
 days
 later,
 it
 was
 april
 30th
 and
 we’re
 driving
 and
 this
 time
 we
 do
 have
 military
 escort.
 A
 couple
 of
 humvees
 in
 front
 of
 us.
 We
 were
leaving
–
khadimiya
again,
and
headed
to
eastinbrah
–
it’s
the
Arabic
word
for
 military
intelligence.
It
pretty
much
meant
that
if
you
were
in
prison
and
you
went
 there,
you
weren’t
coming
back.
Because
they
did
all
the
torture
there.
That’s
where
 the
military
intelligence
and
the
interrogation
for
the
most
part.
 40:00
 We
got
word
there
was
an
IED
up
ahead
of
us,
they
jumped
over
the
medians.
One
 thing
that
Saddam
did
too,
was
he
knew
people
wouldn’t
obey
normal
traffic
laws.
 There’s
 no
 licensing.
 So
 he
 made
 the
 medians
 this
 high
 –
 well,
 the
 Humvees
 went
 right
 over
 it,
 so
 my
 boss
 driving
 the
 car
–
 and
 there
 were
 six
 of
 us.
 We’re
 not
 in
 a
 Patrol
 anymore,
 we’re
 in
 an
 armored
 vehicle,
 it’s
 an
 armored
 Excursion.
 Super
 heavy.
We
could
only
roll
down
the
windows
this
far
because
it’s
bullet
proof
glass
 that’d
stop
an
AK.
 41:10
 And
again,
like
a
rabbit,
you
follow
it.
Wham!
We
hit,
it
throws
me.
I’m
in
Kevlar,
I
 got
 my
 weapon
 I
 got
 my
 strike
 plates.
 I
 got
 a
 lot
 of
 gear
 on.
 You’re
 never
 wearing
 seat
 betls
 over
 there,
 in
 case
 you’ve
 got
 to
 extract
 yourself
 in
 a
 hurry.
 That’s
 why
 people
die
all
the
time
over
there,
they
can’t
wear
seatb
betls.
 
 41:50





77


We
turn
to
the
righ,t
and
it’s
just
a
freak
accident.
We’re
in
the
far
back.
I
get
sprung
 up
and
twisted
at
the
same
time
because
we’re
turning.
And
there’s
a
gal—heavier
 gal—who’s
 one
 of
 the
 trainers,
 and
 she
 gets
 bounced
 into
 me.
 And
 she’s
 getting
 thrown
into
me.

 42:30
 They
stopped
for
a
second
because
they
saw
me,
just
BOING.
It
felt
like
my
neck
kind
 of
–
I
still
always
felt
the
heat,
but
this
time
there
goes
the
back.
I
didn’t
know
I
had
a
 shoulder
problem
because
I’m
really
weak
in
it.
I’m
left
handed.
 43:15
 I
went
to
a
sports
physical
therapist
when
I
got
back,
who
went
here
do
this,
and
he
 said
uh‐uh.
He
said
you
should
be
able
to
do
this,
you’re
more
messed
up
than
you
 think.

 43:30
 So
anyway,
stupid
freak
accidents
on
both
of
them.
Almost
embarrassing
to
have
to
 say
it.
You
know
instead
of
saying,
I
got
ti
in
a
combat.
Yeah
I’d
love
to
be
able
to
give
 you
some
real
crazy
wild
story
where
we
came
out
victorious
and
I
was
injured
and
 I’m
a
war
hero.
 44:t05
 Both
times
there
were
reports
done
and
all
that.
Thank
goodness
there
was
always
a
 lot
 of
 documentation.
 I
 worked
 for
 a
 company
 called
 SAIC
 –
 Science
 Applications
 International
Corporation.
They’re
out
of
san
Diego.
 44:25
 Usually
they’re
computer
people.
They
have
various
patents
they
set
up,
that
kind
of
 thing.
They
started
dabbling
in
the
correctional
and
the
police
kind
of
realm
in
Iraq
a

 far
 as
 advising.
 We
 worked
 under
 ICITAB
 –
 pretty
 much
 the
 training
 police
 for
 international
kind
of
stuff.
American
Department
of
Justice.
 47:10
 [On
dodgy
business
practices
by
insurers
and
contracting
companies]
It
is
a
lack
of
 moral
responsibility
and
integrity.
 47:23
 I
tell
you
what,
the
one
positive
thing
is
I
do
have
two
awesome
kids,
and
that
has
 been
a
lifesacer.
Because
you
get
down,
you
can’t
do
much.
And
if
you
didn’t
have
an





78


incredible
wife
and
two
kids,
you
might
be
dead.
My
wife
is
Rhonda.
My
little
girl
is
 Logan
and
my
little
boy
is
Ronin.
 48:12
 It
 has
 a
 lotof
 meaning,
 Ronin,
 it’s
 actually
 kidn
 of
 funny
 because
 it’s
 a
 double
 entrendre.
 One,
 it’s
 the
 beginnoing,
 for
 the
 most
 part,
 of
 Rhonda
 and
 Darrin.
 The
 primary
meaning
is
that
I’ts
partially
our
names,
but
if
you
know
anything
about
the
 Ronin
in
Japanese
mythology.
They
had
a
master
who
was
killed,
and
what
it
has
to
 do
 with,
 is
 they
 avenge
 their
 master’s
 death,
 but
 in
 doing
 so
 they
 also
 have
 to
 commit
seppuku
and
kill
themselves
because
it
wasn’t
right.
They
weren’t
supposed
 to
do
that.
But
because
they
were
so
fiercely
loyal
–
and
that’s
the
number
one
thing
 in
my
life
and
what
I
focus
in
on
is
fierce
loyalty.
So
his
name
is
not
only
a
mixture
of
 ourtwo
names,
but
also
means
fierce
loyalty
and
also
means
masterless
samurai,
so
 he
won’t
bow
to
anyone.
 49:55
 I’m
not
saying
skirt
the
law,
but
don’t
back
down.
Don’t
waver.
Anyway,
so
if
I
didn’t
 have
them
I
would’ve
killed
mytself
easy,
cause
the
pain
sometimes
is
so
bad.
And
 then
 there’s
 not
 a
 whole
 lot
 fo
 do.
 Before
 I
 had
 them
 when
 I
 got
 back,
 I
 was
 ust
 miserable.
And
that’s
why
we
tried
so
hard.

 50:40
 Cause
 I’d
 realy
 felt
 like
 they
 would
 get
 me
 a
 reason
 to
 live,
 they
 would
 give
 me
 purpose.
Because
I
really
iddn’t
have
oen,
I
was
just
like
a
leaf
in
the
wind,
I
didn’t
 really
have
any
purpose
or
direction,
except
for
my
wife.
So
when
the
kids
came,
I
 had
some
direction,
and
they’re
great.
 51:05
 My
normal
routine,
I
wake
up,
and
I
will
have
a
piece
of
toast
and
some
coffee
and
 take
my
pills
so
I
can
sit
up
and
function.
I
have
an
wasy
chair
I
sit
in,
and
trust
me
–
 I
don’t
eat
breakfast,
so
I
have
to
.I
gained
a
lot
of
weight
when
I
gto
back,
30
lbs.
I
 really
had
to
start
watching
what
I
ate.
I’m
prboaoy
still
15
lbs
overwheight.
I
got
up
 to
 almost
 200
 pounds.
 But
 you
 can’t
 go
 out
 and
 run
 on
 a
 treadmill,
 so
 you
 watch
 what
you
eat.
 52:15
 But
I
tell
you
what,
I
am
a
trivia
genius
now.
I
watch
the
Discover
Channel,
History
 Channel,
I’m
a
veritable
encyclopedia.
Thank
god
for
cable
and
sattelite
TV,
huh?
 52:40





79


One
thing
about
Vegas
is,
you
can
actually
put
twenty
bucks
on
a
game,
and
I
don’t
 care
about
the
game,
but
all
of
a
sudden
I’ve
got
twenty
buck
on
it,
and
I
care
now.
 53:00
 I
go
to
the
casino,
I
probably
get
there
one
a
week
or
twice
a
week
and
try
to
make
 my
bets
then.
So
I’ll
go
there
and
place
some
bets,
or
go
sit
at
the
bar
and
play
a
little
 bit
of
video
poker
and
have
a
beer
or
two.
If
I
have
a
couple
beers,
I
can
probably
 stretch
it
to
an
hour
and
a
half,
hour
and
45
minutes
or
so.
 53:40
 I
 tell
 you
 what,
 I
 have
 met
 up
 with
 a
 lot
 of
 people
 that
 I
 erallty
 do
 like.
 I
 always
 thought
Vegas
is
–
there
are
some
real
messed
up
people
here.
I
didn’t
realize
there
 are
some
normal,
really
great
people
here
too.
(Recounts
a
few
friends)
 54:40
 Lot
 of
 good
 friends
 too,
 and
 that’s
 huge.
 They’ll
 call
 me
 and
 say,
 hey
 don’t
 do
 anything
 today,
 because
 tomorrow
 we’re
 going
 to
 go
 out
 and
 have
 a
 beer
 at
 4:00.
 And
by
5:15,
5:30,
OK
thanks
guys,
and
I
head
home.
But
it’s
nice
to
have
at
least
that
 little
window.
I
tell
them
I’ll
be
standing
over
here
so
I
can
sit
for
the
second
half
of
 it.
 55:30
 That’s
really
‐‐

I
don’t
have
much
of
a
routine.
I
want
to
be
able
to
mix
it
up,
and
that
 way
every
days’
a
little
bit
different.
 56:20
 At
 least
 here
 I
 know
 where
 my
 pain’s
 going
 to
 be.
 My
 pain’s
 going
 to
 be
 here.
 My
 pain
 is
 going
 to
 be
 here.
 I
 don’t
 know
 if
 I
 told
 you
 ,but
 I
 went
 through
 my
 throat.
 They
 moved
 my
 throat
 over,
 
 and
 my
 jugular
 vein
 and
 they
 put
 a
 plate
 in
 on
 the
 inside
of
my
spein,
instead
of
going
through
here.
They
pretty
much
went
all
the
way
 through
my
neck
to
my
spine.
What
they
did
is
they
drilled
out
the
disk,
which
is
a
 marrowy
kidn
of
substance,
kidn
of
spongy,
put
in
a
cadaver
disk,
a
piece
of
bone.
 And
 then
 put
 a
 plate
 on
 the
 inside
 of
 my
 neck,
 so
 I’ve
 got
 a
 plate
 there.
 Then
 of
 course,
dwon
my
leg
and
this
leg,
ti’s
weird,
it
always
has
this
numbness.
 57:55
 Want
to
know
the
craziest
thing?
I
don’t
know
if
I
should
be
saying
this.
I
didn’t
have
 any
of
this
til
after
the
surgery.
So
they
kind
of
helped
fix
one
thing,
not
really.
It
was
 on
my
back.
It
was
the
L4,
L5
and
the
S1.
 58:20





80


So
they
had
to
redo
it.
I
kept
feeling
this
achniess.
You
know
after
a
workout
the
next
 day,
the
lactic
acid
buildup.
So
he
does
anX‐ray
with
dye
–
we
must
have
punctured
 you
on
the
way
out,
it’s
bleeding.
It’s
some
sort
of
fluid
from
your
back,
your
spinal
 cord,
that’s
giving
me
headaches.
So
anyway,
I
had
that
surgery
and
they
tried
to
do
 what’s
 called
 a
 blood
 pathc,
 try
 to
 get
 your
 own
 blood
 to
 coagluate
 against
 it.
 I’ve
 had
probably
over
30
procedures
–
and
I
mean
procedures
like
epidurals.
 1:00:15
 I’ve
gone
over
30
procedures
and
5
major
surgeries.
That
bloog
patch
didn’t
work
 and
they
had
to
put
me
in
the
hostpial
again.
(Recounts
a
few
more
surgical
details).
 So
 then,
 what
 if
 they
 turn
 around
 and
 say,
 it’s
 not
 our
 fault,
 should’ve
 done
 a
 malpractice
suit.
 1:02:00
 Caffeine
 apparently
 is
 one
 of
 the
 cures
 of
 these
 migraine
 headaches.
 So
 now
 I’m
 adcited
to
coffee.
I
never
drank
coffee
before.
 1:03:25
 It
 does…
 I
 get
 a
 lot
 of
 it,
 you
 wake
 up
 in
 the
 middle
 of
 the
 night
 and
 you
 think
 someone’s
in
your
house
coming
to
get
you.
I
don’t
know
why.
 
 DarrinHays2
 0:10
 The
driving.
When
I
got
back,
because
I
was
always
the
driver,
I
always
wanted
to
be
 in
 control
 of
 my
 own
 life.
 And
 the
 driving
 was
 the
 worst,
 the
 hardest
 thing
 to
 get
 used
to
again,
because
now
you
have
rules,
you
had
laws.
People
were
civil.
 0:48
 [“You
have
the
urge
to
jump
over
to
the
other
side?”]
Yeah,
or
actually
hit
someone,
 move
them.
Get
them
out
of
the
way.
Cause
there’s
a
lot
of
aggression
that
you
do.
 1:00
 But
 that’s
 the
 one
 thing
 –
 I
 was
 actually
 walking
 on
 the
 rooftop
 of
 my
 prison
 and
 there
 were
 two
 prisons.
 Al
 Qarq
 was
 the
 juvenile
 facility
 that
 I
 was
 in
 charge
 of.
 Thre’s
 apartment
 buildings
 in
 the
 background,
 and
 they
 all
 of
 a
 sudden
 a
 bullet
 strikes
right
at
my
feet,
and
when
you
hear
the
gunshot
afterward
,and
that’s
when
 all
 the
 corrections
 officers,
 the
 guards,
 thte
 Iraqi
 ones
 get
 up
 there
 and
 just
 start





81


watching
 the
 skyline
 and
 looking
 for
 the
 guy
 shooting.
 They
 were
 trying
 to
 get
 a
 lucky
shot
on
America.
 2:16
 Or
you’ll
be
driving
down
the
road
and
all
of
a
suddent
–
I
have
a
picture
of
a
bullet
 strike
on
a
vehicle.
Just,
they’re
taking
a
pot
shot
at
you.
So
you
have
those
and
then
 of
 course,
 ‐‐
 it’s
 funny
 like
 I
 say,
 your
 mind
 kind
 of
 starts
 to
 go.
 You
 remember
 incidents
but
you
can’t
remember
a
lot
of
names
anymore.
I
don’t
know
if
your
mind
 pushes
it
out
or
what.
 3:03
 The
prison
on
the
west
side
or
Baghdad,
the
notorious
one
–
Abu
Ghraib,
yes
thank
 you
 –
 that
 was
 one
 of
 our
 prisons
 that
 we
 had
 to
 take
 over
 because
 of
 what
 happened
that
November.
We
had
to
go
out
there
and
stay
out
there
over
a
week.
 One
 particular
 instance
 they
 mounted
 their
 escape.
 We’d
 get
 the
 gigantic
 swords
 they’d
 make
 out
 of
 their
 bedframes,
 and
 again
 those
 arrows
 and
 crossbows,
 you
 know
 those
 cheap
 plastic
 tables
 that
 they’re
 molded
 tables
 that
 are
 ust
 kind
 of
 outdoor.
They’d
use
the
elasticity
from
their
underwear
and
made
a
crossbow
and
 shot
another
piece
of
metal
through
the
leg
of
that
table
and
it
stuck,
and
went
all
 the
way
through
there.

 4:15
 So
 we
 have
 all
 these
 weapons
 they’re
 trying
 to
 jump
 out,
 break
 out,
 so
 they’re
 all
 breaking
out
and
they’re
coming.
And
we
took
our
M4s
and
just
started
laying
into
 em.
 And
 three
 dead
 just
 like
 that.
 Got
 a
 couple
 other
 guys
 shot
 through
 the
 hand,
 shot
therough
the
leg,
shot
through
the
arm.
But
they’re
coming
for
you.
 4:38
 Or
 the
 military
 would
 have
 to,
 because
 we
 were
 gone,
 we
 were
 on
 lockdown
 for
 whatever
 reason
 and
 the
 military
 would
 be
 there.
 And
 they
kill
of
three
or
four
 of
 them.
And
they’d
leave
their
bodies
in
body
bags
and
say,
you
guys
deal
with
them.
 And
 our
 freezers
 didn’t
 work,
 so
 they’d
 be
 sitting
 there
 stinking
 up
 the
 place.
 And
 you
 have
 to
 unzip
 them
 and
 take
 pictures
 and
 identify
 them
 and
 they’re
 sitting
 there,
that
cold
kidn
of
stare
,that
glazed‐over
look
nad
smell.
 5:18
 It’s
like
‘crap,
what
are
we
doing?’
It’s
one
thing
when
you
see
someone
who’s
just
 been
 killed
 because
 they
 look
 like
 they’re
 asleep,
 they
 don’t
 stink.
 When
 they’ve
 been
dead
for
a
while,
they
have
that
cloudy,
the
eyes
that
turn
cloudy,
cold
stare.
 5:45





82


Two
nights
ago,
my
sister
got
married
to
days
agao
here.
She
livesi
n
Phoenix.
So
I
 got
to
go
to
it,
and
I’m
by
myself
driving
down
the
road.
It
was
right
afterward,
and
 I’d
had
a
couple
beers.
 6:01
 I’m
 driving
 and
 there
 was
 an
 accident
 –
 just
 happened.
 You
 could
 see
 the
 steam
 coming
out
of
the
radiator
–
just
happened.
Nobody’s
on
the
road,
it’s
late.

Right
off
 of
Sahara
and
15.
And
I
look
and
there’s
a
guy
on
the
ground
–
who’s
the
guy
on
the
 ground?
I
get
out,
just
put
the
Hummer
right
up
on
the
median.
I
get
out
hobble
out,
 reach
down,
check
him
for
a
pulse.
Dead.

 6:35
 And
 the
 uh
 –
 they
 have
 a
 certain
 look
 in
 their
 eyes
 again,
 you
 know,
 even
 though
 he’d
been
crushed.
And
I
was
so
mad,
and
I’m
on
911
and
said,
he’s
dead.
Can
you
 stay
with
him?
There’s
nothing
I
can
do
for
him.
He’s
crushed,
he’s
dead.
The
people
 weren’t
getting
out
of
their
vehicle,
they
were
freaked
you
could
tell.
I
said
there’s
 nothing
I
can
do
for
him.
Will
you
stay?
I
said
no,
I
gotta
get
out
of
here.
 7:12
 It
sjust
makes
me
so
mad,
because
it
just
brings
back
those
memories
of
having
to
–
 it’s
their
fault,
they
make
you
do
it.
And
so
you
resent
them
for
it,
you
resent
their
 ignorance
,
you
resent
everything
they
stand
for.
But
at
the
same
time
you
maek
a
 lot
of
lasting

bonds
with
people
gthat
are
watching
out
for
you,.
They’re
protecting
 you.
 7:54
 I’m
not
an
emotional
guy,
I’m
just
like
this
is
the
way
it
is,
btu
when
you
get
put
in
 those
situations,
it
takes
it
out
of
you,
takes
that
fight
right
out
of
you.
 8;04
 So
 it’s
 funny,
 you
 said,
 do
 you
 have
 flashbacks,
 and
 two
 nights
 ago
 –
 ultimate,
 ultimate
flashback.
I
just,
I
couldn’t
stay
there,
just
gotta
go.
And
you
have
a
couple
 pops
in
you,
I
don’t
want
to
stick
around,
do
reports.
I
odn’t
want
toget
too
overly
 emotional.
I
don’t
want
to
let
this
demon
loose.
Keep
it
in
check.
 8:32
 I
think
ultimately
that’s
what
it
was.
I
don’t
want
to
let
this
demon
loose.
If
I
stay
too
 long,
he
may
get
out.
And
I
won’t
be
able
t
control
him,
I
feel
like
I
can’t.
Even
though
 people
say,
ah,
you
need
to
let
it
out,
get
it
out.
I
don’t
think
so,
I
think
it
would
be
 ever‐consuming.





83


8:54
 Yeah,
 where
 you
 rage?
 Yeah,
 where
 you
 gotta
 punch
 something,
 which
 would
 be
 self‐destructive,
 especially
 on
 me.
 Or
 when
 you
 snap.
 I
 mean,
 I’ve
 ever
 beeen
 verbally
 abiusive
 or
 physically
 abusive
 yo
 my
 sife,
 but
 I
 will
 get
 very
 irritable
 and
 snap
at
her.
And
am
I
angry
because
of
the
feelings,
am
I
angry
becquse
of
the
pain?
 Does
 the
 pain
 remind
 me
 of
 the
 feelings?
 Ido
 n’t
 know.
 I
 don’t
 know
 why
 I
 do
 the
 things
I
do.
I
know
this
all
has
an
effect
on
my
persona.
 9:40
 Ny
 parents
 are
 all,
 why
 are
 you
 so
 unhappy,
 and
 I’m
 lie,,
 I’m
 not.
 ‘You
 don’t
 seem
 unhappy…’
Well,
I’m
pretty
darned
happy.
Sure
there’s
an
unknown
factor
in
what’s
 going
ot
happen
in
the
future
as
far
as
finances.
 9:56
 How
 you
 feeling?
 Every
 day,
 you
 know
 I’m
 hurting.
 Good.
 Cause
 nobody
 wants
 to
 hear,
awww,
my
back’s
hurting
again.
I
don’t
feel
good.
Cause
that’s
the
same
old
hat.
 10:20
 They’ve
never
really
said
you’ve
changed.
When
I
saw
my
aunt
and
uncle,
first
time
 in
 shit,
 long
 time,
 years
 nad
 years.
 They
 said,
 something’s
 not
 right,
 he’s
 not,
 something’s
 going
 on
 with
 him.
 I’m
 like,
 I’m
 in
 pain.
 That’s
 about
 it,
 everything’s
 going
great
as
far
as
my
life.
I’m
ok,
it’s
just
the
pain.
 11:06
 I
think
I’m
a
lot
happier
whenI
‘m
on
Ibuprofen
pr
half
a
Lortab
or
something.
I’m
a
 lot
more
jovial,
I’m
abel
to
talk
and
smile.
I
think
too,
we’re
kind
of
getting
on
two
 hours
now,
and
so
I
get
a
little
more
remotional
I
think
because
my
body
starts
to
 wear
out.
I’m
glad
you
came
out.
 





84



 Fred
Gaus,
Interviewed
August
14,
2008,
in
Albuquerque,
N.M.
 FredGaus1
 When
did
you
go
to
Iraq?
 I
went
over
the
12th,
13th
for
Iraq.
Wheels
up
for
KBR
was
the
10th
of
April.
 It
was
mostly
paperwork
they
wanted
you
to
fill
out
in
Houston.
The
only
thing
they
 trained
you
on
was
the
CDS
–
the
chemical
suit
–
and
that
was
a
joke.
They
make
you
 do
it.
Once
the
ydo
that,
by
the
time
you
get
that
stuffo
n,
you
never
forget
it.
 I
was
working
ofr
KBR
,
the
whole
two
months
I
was
there.
Wheels
up
was
April
10,
 flew
 out
 of
 Houston
 and
 headed
 form
 there
 to
 Atlanta,
 to
 Dubai,
 spent
 the
 night
 there
and
from
there
to
Camp
Anaconda.
 I
 had
 to
 do
 some
 trainining
 there
 for
 senior
 mechanic
 running
 the
 equipment
 up
 there.
Form
there
I
wnet
to
Tikrit,
Camp
Spycher
 How’d
you
like
it
up
there?
 It
was
different,
it
was
a
little
bit
of
a
culture
shock.
You
know
from
Michigan
to
here
 gave
me
the
idea
to
expect
the
unexpected.
I
kind
of
figured
it
was
going
to
be
a
little
 like
that,
but
 –
KBR
says
we
don’t
want
you
to
mingle
with
the
locals.
I
seen
them
 going
by
on
our
convoys.

 To
a
certain
extent
you
knew
where
you
were
–
it
was
hot,
dusty
dry.
 I
was
in
Vietnam
era
–
I
spent
two
monthsi
n
Germany
at
that
time.
I
look
at
it
this
 way
 ‐‐‐
 If
 Uncle
 Sam
 wanted
 me
 to
 go,
 I
 would’ve
 gone.
 But
 they
 didn’t,
 so
 I’ll
 sit
 back,
 take
 it
 easy.
 I
 was
 in
 Danau,
 just
 east
 of
 Frankfurt.
 Enjoyed
 the
 beer.
 After
 allthis
happened,
I
spent
7
days
in
Germany
and
could
not
get
one
beer.
 4:40
 I
was
two
months
total
in
country.
I
hit
Camp
Spycher
five
weeks
after
I
got
there.
 We
got
through
training,
they
sendt
me
to
camp
spycher,
one
piece
of
the
equipment
 went
down,
so
they
had
me
and
another
gentleman
go
back
to
Anaconda,
we
spent
7
 days
 there.
 We
 went
 back
 to
 Spycher
 after
 that,
 nad
 the
 day
 after
 I
 got
 there
 they
 had
 another
 mission
 they
 sent
 us
 out
 on.
 About
 10:00
 in
 the
 morning,
 there
 was
 three
of
us
that
went
out
there,
we
went
to
an
FOB,
the
yhad
another
little
meeting,
 and
explained
to
us
not
to
get
out
of
our
trucks,
explicitly
said
it
was
safe
if
we’d
do
 it.
 So
 that’s
 no
 problem,
 we’ll
 sit
 here,
 relax,
 take
 it
 easy.
 We
 went
 probably
 8‐10
 miles
to
the

0—I
think
it
was
east.
To
a
certain
extent,
my
directions
were
kind
of
 loopy
over
there.





85


6:30
 We
 got
 to
 some
 fields
 with
 the
 irrigation
 on,
 they’d
 flooded
 the
 fields.
 All
 of
 a
 suddent
 they
 stopped,
 and
 the
 piece
 of
 equip
 we
 were
 supposed
 to
 get,
 the
 asset,
 wasn’t
 that
 far
 away.
 We
 sat
 and
 stopped
 there
 and
 waited,
 and
 one
 of
 the
 staff
 sergeants
said,
follow
me
and
put
it
on.
So
I
started
following
him
around,
and
they
 had
a
military
wrecker
that
was
parked
in
front
of
him.
 7:30
 So
I
went
over
that
last
little
pile
of
dirt
and
that’s
when
I
hit
that
IED.
In
the
fiel,d
 yeah.
 WhenI
 went
 oer
 it,
 I
 was
 trying
 to
 put
 one
 tire
 and
 then
 the
 other
 over
 it,
 tokeep
it
from
bouncing
so
hard,
and
when
I
hit
that,
everything
went
to
heck
in
a
 handbasket.
I
tell
people,
it’s
like
someone
just
threw
a
brown
blanket
over
me.
 8:07
 The
 gentleman
 sitting
 next
 to
 me,
 when
 everything
 was
 said
 and
 done,
 I
 my
 legs
 were
up
the
seat,
my
back
was
up
on
the
floor
of
the
cab.
These
wreckers
had
extra
 steel
 plates
 in
 them.
 It
 threw
 me
 right
 backwards.
 The
 doctor’s
 saying
 one
 of
 my
 injuries
was
an
expansion
fracture
in
my
back.
It
just
pushed
me
right
like
this,
just
 straight
back.
So
once
I
was
looking
myself
over,
making
sure
everything
was
where
 it’s
supposed
to
be,
my
index
finger
was
laying
down
in
the
palm
of
my
hand,
what
 was
left
of
it.
 9:00
 So
I
started
calling
ofr
the
guy
that
was
sitting
next
to
me,
I
kept
calling
and
waving
 my
arm
for
the
medics
to
come
over
and
probably
within
fifteen
seconds
to
45
secs,
 they
were
on
their

way,
and
one
of
them
says,
I
see
the
other
guy,
and
he’s
30
feet
 from
the
truck.
He
was
literally
blown
that
far
away.
 9:30
 Out
the
window?
 Now,
let
me
finish
my
little
story.
 When
 I
 started
 looking
 around,
 I
 could
 see
 straight
 through
 the
 roof
 which
 wasn’t
 there.
Dashboar,d
you
name
it
,
wasn’t
really
thre.
Just
that
little
part
of
the
left
side
 was
all
that
was
really
there.
I
had
a
backpack
and
that
was
still
sitting
in
the
back,
 unhurt.
It
had
a
little
rip
in
it,
but
I
got
that
fixed.
That’s
something
you’re
not
going
 to
get
rid
of.
If
it
can
survive
that,
it
can
survive
a
whole
heck
of
a
lot.
 The
 one
 guy
 comes
 to
 me,
 and
 the
 other
 one
 goes
 to
 the
 other
 guy.
 The
 other
 one
 was
back
in
30
secs
to
a
minute.
The
other
guy
didn’t
make
it,
he
was
just
gone.





86


They
put
a
couple
tourniquets
on
me.
This
legt
was
pretty
cut
up,
had
a
couple
good
 burns.
This
finger
was
partially
amputated
–
index
finger
on
the
right
hand
there.
 11:00
 Those
tourniquets
were
killing
me,
that
was
worse
than
the
injuries
themselves.
The
 helicopter
took
about
fifteen
minutes
to
get
there,
they
threw
me
on
the
helicopter
 and
took
off.
 12:00
 Like
I
said,
I
enver
did
see
where
Greg
was
–
the
gnentleman
who
was
with
me,
Greg
 Loomis.
 They
 gto
 me
 to
 Anaconda,
 the
 closest
 military
 camp.
 Within
 an
 hour
 and
 fifteen
minutes
of
everything,
I
was
in
the
operating
room.
 12:35
 It
also
ripped
this
part
of
my
ace
off,
bottom
of
my
mouth,
cracked
my
one
bottom
 partial.
It
was
4:00
in
the
afternoon
over
there,
and
by
11:00
at
night,
I
was
in
the
 ICU,
coming
out
of
anesthesia.
First
thing,
I
wanted
to
call
my
wife.
So
I
called
her
up,
 told
her
I
was
coming
home,
had
a
little
oops,
and
her
first
response
was,
how
we
 gonna
make
it?
I
said,
well
I
hear
workmen’s
comp
pays
about
4
grand
a
month.
 13:30
 So
she
says,
well,
what
happened?
This
is
what
happened
–
I
told
her
I
hit
an
IUD,
 instead
 of
 IED,
 and
 explained
 to
 her
 –
 that
 was
 just
 a
 mix‐up.
 Not
 intentional,
 I’ve
 always
had
trouble
with
them.
She
started
calling
my
amily,
it
took
aher
about
two
 hours
rto
calm
down.
 14:10
 That
was
the
first
she’d
heard
about
all
this
–KBR
was
more
concerned
about
letting
 Greg’s
wife
know
what
happened,
instead
of
letting
her
know15:30
 It
happened
to
be
,
both
our
daughters
were
staying
here
with
her
at
the
time,
so
she
 had
a
good
support
network.
Then
there
was
Blue
Star
Moms
and
the
Patriot
Riders
 –
so
between
the
two
of
them,
helped
her
through
a
lot
of
stuff.
 16:00
 Actually,
 one
 of
 the
 blue
 star
 moms,
 her
 son
 got
 hit
 by
 a
 sniper
 bullet
 in
 the
 leg.
 I
 spent
two
days
there
at
Camp
Anaconda
in
Tikrit.
 16:44





87


My
 mind’s
 going
 bananas
 again.
 They
 airlifted
 me
 to
 Landstuhl,
 Germany,
 and
 I
 stayed
 seven
 dyas
 there.
 I
 spent
 seven
 days
 there,
 then
 another
 gentleman
 went
 with
me
to
Frankfurt.
 18:14
 We
 flew
 from
 there
 to
 Dallas,
 Dallas
 to
 Albuquerque.
 Generally,
 a
 person
 of
 my
 status
would’ve
been
the
last
one
off
the
plane,
and
instead
I
was
the
first
one
off
the
 plane
–
the
stewardess
actually
announced,
we’ve
got
a
special
guest
that
needs
to
 come
off
first.
They
took
me
straight
through
the
main
airport.
They
hada
flag
line
 there
for
me,
for
welcome
home.
They
had
16
bikes
and
9
cars
there
to
escort
me
to
 the
hospital
–
actually
five
days
there,
I
thought
it
was
goingto
be
longer
than
that,
 but
they
kicked
me
out.

 19:15
 It
broke
my
toe,
don’t
ask
me
how
that
happened.
 I
almost
lost
that
hand.
It
really
did
some
damage.
 21:26
 KBR’s
 putting
 me
 in
 for
 a
 –
 it’s
 like
 a
 Purple
 Heart
 –
 a
 Defense
 of
 Freedom
 Medal,
 which
 is
 the
 same
 thing
 as
 a
 purple
 heart,
 for
 a
 civilian.
 It’s
 going
 to
 take
 a
 while,
 because
it’s
got
probably
two
dozen
places
to
go
before
it
gets
to
all
the
right
places.
 But
the
more
information
you
can
get,
reports,
that
kind
of
thing,
the
easier
it’ll
be
to
 get.
We’re
waiting
for
that
right
now.
 What’s
your
experience
been
with
KBR
since
you’ve
been
back?
 22:00
 They’ve
 treated
 me
 pretty
 good.
 If
 I
 have
 trouble
 with
 the
 workmen’s
 comp
 company,
they
make
certain
calls
to
get
me
back
on
track.
THe
original
guy
they
put
 on
my
case
was
dragging
his
heels
bigtime
and
if
it
wasn’t
for
a
friend
of
ours
who
 went
through
this
in
03
–
actually
our
youngest
grandson’s
other
grandma
was
over
 there
 in
 a
 humvee,
 and
 she’s
 still
 going
 through
 medical
 treatment
 trying
 to
 get
 bones
to
heal
back
properly.
IED
too,
yeah,
a
humvee
that
was
not
up‐armored.
This
 was
back
in
’03.
 23:10
 I
 was
 using
 her
 wheelchair.
 It
 took
 me
 two
 weeks
 to
 get
 my
 own
 wheelchair,
 two
 days
later
the
doctor
told
me,
time
to
get
a
walker.





88


Other’n
that,
they’ve
been
treating
me
pretty
good.
I
haven’t
heard
too
many
other
 complaints
 form
 the
 people
 that
 I’ve
 been
 dealing
 with.
 They’ve
 been
 getting
 me
 anything
I
need.
 24:00
 Other’n
that,
just
been
taking
it
one
day
at
a
time,
trying
to
get
healed
up.
Honestly,
if
 I
 can
 go
 back,
 there
 are
 some
 things
 that
 I’ve
 got
 to
 deal
 with,
 I
 know
 to
 get
 over
 these
fears,
just
got
to
get
back
up
on
the
horse
that
threw
me,
is
the
best
way
to
put
 it.
 That’s
incredible
 It’ll
be
five
years
in
October
since
I
rolled
a
semi
up
on
25.
And
being
that
she
taught
 truck
driving
at
one
time,
I
got
up
after
a
class,
just
to
see
if
I
could
do
it.
It
took
me
 about
a
week.
This
time
it’s
going
to
take
a
little
longer.
It’s
been
two
motnhs
since
 this
happened.
 Have
you
been
up
in
a
truck
since
then?
 Haven’t
been
able
to.
The
hardest
problem
I’m
probably
going
to
have
is
sitting
up
in
 that
right
seat,
because
of
knowing
what
happened
to
Greg.
Just
last
weekend,
they
 had
one
of
the
Vietnam
portable
walls
up
at
the
Hollywood
casino,
and
we
had
a
dog
 tag
made
up
for
him
–
two
of
them,
one
for
us
and
one
for
his
wife.
 25:40
 She
 had
 no
 support
 other
 than
 her
 family
 through
 all
 this.
 It’s
 been
 hard
 on
 her.
 I
 asked
her,
how
did
they
contact
you
about
Greg’s
death,
and
they
actually
had
two
 men
 sitting
 at
 her
 door,
 9:00
 at
 night.
 That’s
 one
 of
 the
 reasons
 I
 don’t
 think
 she
 (Vardis)
got
a
phone
call
,
and
that
was
a
blessing
in
disguise.
 26:45
 Anyway,
that’s
what
I’ve
got
to
get
over
before
I
get
back
in
a
truck.
It
depends
on
 three
things
–
how
good
this
heals
up
with
my
leg,
how
good
my
back
is,
and
how
 good
 a
 grip
 I’ve
 got
 in
 my
 right
 hand.
 I’ve
 still
 got
 the
 doctors
 to
 see
 ,they’ll
 do
 an
 MRI
on
my
head
to
see
if
any
real
damage
was
done.
My
hearing’s
a
little
worse,
but
 not
real
bad.
 27:40
 Overall,
this
is
an
experience
that
–
the
only
reason
I’m
here
is
because
of
God.
The
 whole
left
side
of
that
cab
could
have
been
gone.
 Physical
things
aside,
do
you
think
you’ll
be
able
to
get
back
up
in
a
truck?





89


28:30
 I
think
I’ll
be
able
to.
The
hardest
part’s
gonna
be
sitting
in
that
right
seat.
Especially
 if
I
go
over
to
Iraq,
it’s
one
of
the
things
that’ll
be
hard
to
overcome.
In
the
back
of
 my
head,
especially
outside
the
wire,
wondering
if
we’ll
hit
an
IED
on
the
right
side.
 It’s
just
that
little
bit.
 Why
did
you
go
over
in
the
first
place?
 29:00
 Troop
support.
Help
the
troops
out
some
way.
And
I
was
driving
for
Walgreens
here,
 and
I
had
a
boss
that
–
there
was
some
other
routes
that
paid
really
good,
and
every
 time
one
opened
up,
they
wouldn’t
contact
me.
My
son
told
me
about
this
deal,
and
I
 applied
for
it.
Because
he
was
over
there
driving
for
LSI.
And
at
Spycher,
he
left
two
 weeks
before
I
got
there.
He
missed
three
morning
meetings,
and
they
very
politely
 asked
him
to
head
home.
They
don’t
play
games
over
there.
 30:15
 Either
you
show
up,
or
you’ve
got
to
be
someplace
they
know
where
you’re
at.

 31:00
 I
knew
all
about
the
danger,
yeah.
Once
you
get
over
there
and
start
looking
around,
 and
seeing
what’s
going
on
–
you
realize
you’re
in
a
combat
zone.
 The
 mortar
 actually
 hit
 near
 the
 PPI
 camp
 –
 the
 Philippine
 People
 in
 Iraq
 camp.
 There’s
quite
a
few
Filipino
people
in
Iraq
there.
There
was
one
guy
from
Kenya.
I
 ahven’t
talked
to
any
of
them
since
all
this
happened.
The
guy
from
Kenya,
I’d
like
to
 talk
to
him
because
he
was
out
there,
he
seen
what
came
down.
 32:30
 I’ve
been
trying
to
get
a
picture
of
this
truck,
they’re
still
doing
an
investigation
on
it,
 last
I
heard.
That’s
all
I
want
,
just
to
see
how
much
was
left
of
it,
just
to
see
how
I
 actually
survived
this
little
mishap.
To
understand
what
happened,
in
my
own
mind,
 that’s
what
iti
s.
Just
like
the
pictures
of
the
truck
that

Irolled.
 36:40
 You
get
outside
the
wire,
I
wouldn’t
worry
about
wearing
a
seat
belt.

On
the
camp,
 they
do
want
you
to
wear
it.
 38:50





90


I
 don’t
 remember
 hearing
 the
 sound
 –
 it
 was
 like
 somebody
 threw
 a
 blanket
 over
 me,
is
the
best
way
to
explain
it.
 39:50
 We’ve
 got
 occupational
 therapy
 appointments
 out
 the
 wazoo.
 This
 week
 I’m
 going
 twice.

 43:40
 Was
this
your
first
time
in
a
combat
situation?
 Yes
 What
was
that
like?
 Different.
 It
 was
 different.
 The
 way
 they
 did
 it,
 we
 had
 probably
 15
 or
 20
 military
 vehicles,
support
people
when
all
of
this
was
coming
down.
The
IED
I
hit
was
what
 they
call
a
double‐tap.
And
the
wrecker
set
the
fuse,
and
when
I
went
over
it,
it
went
 off.
 44:30
 They
also
have
what
they
call
daisy
chains,
so
one
would
set
it
off,
and
it
would
just
 blow
up
along
a
series
of
vehicles.
 Oh,
it’s
scary,
and
the
military
just
can’t
keep
up
with
what
they’re
throwing
at
em.
 Like
I
say,
this
is
not
a
fair
war.
 Could
you
compare
this
to
what
you
heard
during
Vietnam?
 We
never
got
to
this
point,
where
we’re
actually
iccupying
the
whole
country.
A
lot
 of
the
military
stuff
is
support
stuff,
like
protecting
the
convoys.
The
whole
country
 is
a
war
zone.
 The
truck
you
were
driving
was…
 I’d
go
get
assets,
and
bring
em
back
to
camp.
It
was
a
civilian
wrecker.
International
 Harvester
Truck,
a
7600.
There
was
an
ATAC
wrecker
on
the
back
of
it.
 KBR
 was
 actually
 hiring
 a
 lot
 more
 of
 the
 nationals
 within
 that
 area
 for
 drving
 a
 truck
around
there.
 It
was
just
a
field
with
just
the
military
equipment
that
we
went
out
with,
and
like
I
 said,
they
hid
one
of
them
IED’s
in
the
road.
 It
 was
 an
 AMRAP
 broken
 down
 –
 one
 of
 the
 newer
 pieces
 of
 military
 equipment,
 with
a
V
bottom.





91



 FredGaus2
 1:40
 It
literally
blew
everything
away,
the
best
way
to
put
it.
When
the
medics
came
to
 get
me,
they
just
walked
over
the
stuff
like
it
was
nothing.
All
I
could
see
was
just
the
 back
part
of
the
cab.
 It
literally
blew
me
backwards,
and
I
was
on
the
floor,
and
my
legs
were
up
on
the
 seat.
 That’s
 whne
 I
 started
 looking
 around
 to
 see
 that
 everythging
 that
 was
 supposed
to
be
attached
was
still
attached.
 After
I
did
that,
I
started
waving
my
arm
and
yelling
for
the
guy
who
was
sitting
next
 to
me.
 What
was
it
like,
the
sight
of
your
finger
in
your
hand?
 Ah,
‘That’s
going
to
hurt.
That’s
going
to
hurt
a
lot.’
 3:30
 I’ve
been
trying
ever
since
this
thing
come
down,
to
keep
a
good
attitude
about
this.
 With
 Greg’s
 death
 and
 stuff,
 I’ve
 felt
 a
 lot
 of
 pain
 over
 it,
 but
 I
 haven’t
 really
 cried
 over
 it.
 We
 were
 just
 getting
 ot
 be
 friends
 when
 all
 this
 started
 coming
 down.
 We
 were
close
friends,
working
companions.
 So
it
was
no
mistake
you
were
riding
together
that
day?
 3:45
 Actually,
 I
 could’ve
 been
 sitting
 in
 that
 seat.
 He
 was
 doing
 what
 they
 call
 the
 CC,
 convoy
commander.
I
needed
to
get
a
little
more
up
on
the
CC
stuff
on
the
computer.
 I
hadn’t
really
gotten
into
it
that
much,
that’s
why
I
was
driving
that
day.
 It’s
just
the
luck
of
fate.
His
wife’s
in
Florida,
they
were
living
in
Colorado
before.
 Sounds
like
a
real
nice
lady,
her
and
her
kids
want
to
meet
me,
and
I’d
like
to
meet
 her.
 6:15
 Between
the
doctors’
appointments
and
everything
else
in
our
lives,
it’s
been
hectic.
 If
I
do
go
back,
that’s
one
place
I’m
going
to
stop.
I
feel
like
I
need
to.
 It
seems
like
you’ve
been
living
around
trucks
your
whole
life.





92


My
dad
was
a
heavy
equipment
mechanic.
I’ve
always
bene
fixing
stuff.
We’ve
got
6
 ½
motorcycles.
[lists
them]
 8:30
 I’d
like
to
go
to
the
one
at
the
Wall
next
year,
on
his
memorial
of
what
happened
to
 him,
is
one
of
the
reasons
I
want
to
dot
hat
–
to
let
people
now,
hey
theyre’s
other
 guys
losing
their
lives
other
than
just
troops.
There
is
a
bunch
of
contractors
that
are
 gone
because
of
that.
Recovery
itself
has
only
lost
two
people.
Greg
was
the
second
 one
in
two
years.
Overall,
KBR
has
lost
somewhere
close
to
100
people.
In
July,
they
 lost
3
more.

 What
can
you
do?
You’re
in
a
war
zone,
you
do
what
you
can
do.
 A
lot
of
people
don’t
grasp
that
it
is
a
war
zone,
the
whole
country.
The
tropps
that
 are
 there
 know
 they’re
 doing
 the
 right
 thing.
 They’re
 wanting
 to
 do
 the
 whole
 job
 and
 come
 home
 –
 I
 don’t
 want
 to
 say
 a
 victory
 –
 but
 a
 sense
 that
 they
 did
 the
 job
 they
went
over
there
to
do.
 Since
I’ve
been
over
there,
I
can
answer
[what
is
victory?]
–
satisfaction
that
there’s
 peace
over
there.
 11:00
 I
don’t
know.
I’m
not
a
politician
and
I
don’t
claim
to
be
one.
 13:20
 My
wife
and
I
were
both
working
for
MS
Carriers.
We
met,
she
offered
me
pizza,
we
 talked,
ended
up
in
my
truck
for
a
while
and
talked.
I
gave
her
my
voicemail
box.
We
 started
talking
that
way,
and
ended
up
talking
quite
a
bit
for
the
first
six
months
we
 met.
I
ended
up
proposing
to
her
over
the
voicemail
while
I
was
waiting
for
her
in
 Memphis.
 The
 load
 she
 was
 supposed
 to
 be
 bringing
 from
 Budweiser
 didn’t
 come
 through
on
time
and
I
had
to
get
going
on
my
load.
 14:51
 We’re
 just
 meant
 to
 be.
 I’m
 trying
 of
 riding
around
–
gotta
get
back
 to
driving.
It’s
 going
to
be
at
least
another
six
weeks
because
of
the
boot.
 15:15
 I’d
like
to
get
back
quite
a
bit
really,
just
to
get
over
these
fears.
If
nothing
more,
for
 three
months.
Know
what
I’m
trying
to
say?
It’s
just
something
I
feel
like
I’ve
got
to
 do,
just
like
going
over
there
in
the
first
place.
It’s
something
I
fetl
like
I
had
to
do.
 But
 this
 time
 it’s
 more
 personal,
 something
 I’ve
 gto
 to
 get
 over
 ,the
 fears
 of
 what
 happened
over
there.
I

have
to
personally
get
over
those
fears
to
know
I
can
go
on





93


with
life
with
no
problem.
It’s
like
you’re
riding
a
horse
and
the
horse
bucks
you
off,
 you
have
to
get
right
back
on
to
prove
to
the
horse
you
can
do
it.
 16:10
 Get
healed
up
and
see
what
I
can
do
there.
 18:40
 I’m
 not
 thinking
 much
 about
 disability
 –
 I’ll
 find
 something
 here
 if
 I
 have
 to,
 a
 mechanic
job.
 What
 do
 you
 think
 about
 a
 mechanic
 job,
 with
 one
 finger
 missing?
 Will
 that
 be
 a
 problem?
 No.
Most
of
your
grip
is
right
here
anyway
with
your
index
finger.
If
it’s
going
to
get
 in
the
way,
why
not
lose
it
now?
I
have
seen
the
X‐rays
and
a
lot
of
meat
was
missing
 in
here,
and
the
bone
was
real
jagged.
They
could’ve
saved
it
and
it
would’ve
been
 straight,
but
it
would’ve
been
in
the
way.
 How
old
are
you?
 58.
 
 FredGaus3
 Vardis
speaking:
 1:28
 I
got
to
the
airport,
I
was
on
my
motorcycle.
I
wen
t
up
to
the
gat,e
and
when
I
told
 them
what
it
was,
they
gave
me
the
gate
pass
to
go
up,
so
I
greeted
him
at
the
gate.
 The
 Blue
 Star
 moms
 just
 greeted
 him
 with
 a
 lot
 of
 applause,
 bystanders
 started
 applauding.
 2:48
 We
led
the
whole
group
out
–
16
bikes,
9
cars,
and
we
followed
them
to
the
hospital,
 and
it
all
came
together
on
the
fly.
 What
was
it
like,
seeing
that
whole
scene?
 3:07

[Fred
speaking]





94


Seeing
 her
 at
 the
 gate
 was
 really
 good
 –
 I
 was
 hoping
 she’d
 be
 there.
 The
 first
 personI
wanted
to
see
was
her.
Hey,
I’m
here,
Im
still
alive.
I’m
not
sure
how
bad
I’m
 hurt,
but
I’m
alive
and
I’ll
be
coming
home.
 If
 he
 hadn’t
 been
 strapped
 down
 on
 the
 gurney,
 he
 would’ve
 jumped
 off
 it.
 He
 couldn’t
get
hold
of
me
soon
enough.





95


Eddie
Barker,
Interviewed
August
26,
2008,
in
Marion
Station,
Maryland
 Eddie
Barker1
 I’ve
got
a
claim
that’s
out,
but
like
everything
else,
it’s
AIG
calling
all
the
shots.
It’s
 AIG,
they’re
acting
like
doctors,
they’re
sheltered
by
an
umbrella
act,
went
into
effect
 in
1972,
signed
by
Richard
Nixon,
called
the
ERISCA
law,
and
they
act
like
doctors.
 And
they
play
at
doctors,
and
they
use
it
to
the
full
extent.
 1:00
 I’ve
 had
 physical
 grounds,
 I’ve
 had
 one
 operation
 on
 the
 C‐67
 that
 was
 successful,
 but
then
three
motnhs
down
the
road
I
had
two
more
and
they’re
pressing
again
the
 spinal
 column
 and
 I’ve
 got
 physical
 grounds
 on
 them.
 They
 got
 their
 IME
 –
 their
 independent
medical
examiner,
they
pay
him.
 
 He
agreed
with
my
doct,or,
I’ve
gto
one
of
the
best
doctors
in
the
country.
I’ve
gto
 the
aprofessor
of
the
brain
and
spine,
and
he
agreed
with
them.
But
that
wasn’t
good
 enough.
They
sent
my
report
to
New
York.
 1:45
 Then
they
wanted
me
to
see
another
doctor,
and
I
said
no,
and
they
cut
my
checks
 off.
And
I
still
have
my
medication
but
they’re
not
giving
me
my
check
every
month.
 So
now
I’m
waiting
to
restart
my
check
–
a
federal
judge
told
them
to
reinstate
my
 check,
but
they
say
because
I
didn’t
go
to
that
IME
that
they
don’t
have
to.
 2:20
 So
it’s
a
big
battle.
AIG
is
a
man’s
worst
nightmare.
When
you
hire
on
at
KBR,
they
 tell
you
if
you
get
hurt
in
an
accident,
that
you’ll
be
well
taken
care
of.
I’ve
been
out
 of
work
going
on
three
years.
I’ve
been
working
since
I
was
6
years
old,
and
until
I
 was
49,
I’ve
never
been
out
of
work.
I
mean
never.
Never
been
without
a
job,
even
 during
the
summer
months
growing
up.
January
4th
will
be
three
years.
 3:10
 They
shipped
me
home
January
24
of
2006
–
that
was
my
last
active
day
with
KBR.
 It’s
pretty
much
downhill
since
then.
You
can’t
call
them
up
on
the
phone
and
talk
to
 them.
You
have
to
call
your
attorney.
 3:45
 I’ve
got
Robert
Walsh
out
of
Newport
News,
Va.,
which
is
a
DBA
attorney.
He’s
got
a
 40‐year
track
record
–
he’s
got
more
years
of
experience
than
Gary
Pitts
does.





96



 He’s
 got
 to
 wait
 for
 court
 hearings,
 just
 like
 anybody
 else
 does.
 I’ve
 been
 writing
 letters
 to
 senators,
 to
 state
 senators
 and
 my
 response
 has
 been
 none.
 So
 what
 are
 they
getting
paid
for?
They
don’t
care.
 5:30
 (talking
about
the
ERISCA
law
–
insurance
companies
hide
behind
it)
 5:45
 My
 case
 is
 a
 negligence
 case.
 It
 was
 their
 product,
 their
 up‐armored
 trucks.
 I’m
 standing
outside
the
truck
at
10:00
at
night,
no
warning
and
a
90‐pound
bulletproof
 glass
fell
out
of
the
track
nad
hit
me
in
the
head.
By
all
rights,
I
should
be
dead.
 6:20
 I
got
back
on
the
radio
and
Big
‘Un
was
the
convoy
commander.
I
told
him
I’d
been
 hit.
It
took
8
hours
after
I’d
been
hit
to
get
me
back
to
base.
 6:45
 It’s
rough
over
there
and
I’d
go
back
right
now
but
I
can’t.
There
was
nothing
wrong
 with
 me
 when
 I
 hired
 on
 with
 them.
 I
 was
 49
 years
 old,
 been
 driving
 a
 truck
 my
 whole
life.
I
don’t
know
if
I’ll
ever
be
able
to
drive
a
truck
again
on
account
of
the
 bouncing
and
my
neck.
 7:35
 I
take
60mg
of
OcyCodeine
every
day,
just
for
the
pain
–
so
yes,
I
am
high
as
a
kite
 right
now.
I
tell
you
the
truth,
you
can
take
it
back
to
AIG.
AIG
can
frankly
kiss
the
 white
part
of
my
ass.
That’s
the
way
I
feel
about
it.
 My
family’s
livelihood
is
not
being
taken
care
of.
It’s
not
so
much
about
me
as
it
is
 about
them.
I
can’t
afford
the
house
without
being
paid,
and
money’s
starting
to
get
 very,
very
tight.
 8:40
 I
 got
 workmen’s
 comp
 every
 two
 weeks,
 in
 a
 sum
 of
 $2,200
 every
 two
 weeks.
 But
 that’s
still
not
a
third
of
what
I
was
making
–
here
in
the
states,
even
before
I
went
to
 Iraq.
I
was
making
better
money
here
in
the
states
than
I
was
when
I
went
to
Iraq.
I
 just
got
tired
of
the
high
fuel
prices
and
the
DOT
rules
and
regulations.
And
I
enjoyed
 working
over
there.
I
liked
what
I
did.
I
was
bucking
for
foreman.
Within
3
months,
I
 was
already
driving
convoy
commander.





97


9:55
 I’d
still
be
over
there
right
now.
I
went
over
in
October
2005.
I’d
of
had
everything
I
 own
paid
off
by
now.
That’s
what
my
wife
was
doing
with
every
check,
paying
off
the
 bills.
 10:30
 Mine
is
a
negligence
suit,
but
under
the
law,
you
can’t
sue
KBR
in
any
way,
because
 they’re
 a
 third
 party.
 They
 only
 subcontracted
 SEII.
 They’re
 only
 headhunters
 for
 SEII.
They
got
you
by
the
balls,
any
way
you
look
at
it.
You
can’t
sue
them
because
 they’re
in
the
Cayman
Islands.
 11:14
 I’m
just
trying
to
get
them
to
fix
my
meds
right
now.
 11:47
 Even
 if
 I
 could
 sue
 them,
 I
 don’t
 know
 anyone
 who
 would
 take
 the
 case.
 They’re
 what
 you
 call
 a
 juggernaut.
 They
 are
 so
 big,
 attorneys
 are
 afraid
 of
 them.
 Because
 they
 belong
 to
 Dick
 Cheney,
 Halliburton,
 and
 yes
 they
 are
 all
 in
 cahoots
 together.
 Politicians
all
have
too
much
power.
Our
politics
is
wrong,
our
federal
government
is
 wrong.
It’s
not
of
the
people.
 12:30
 They
cut
off
my
checks
last
year
for
3
months,
and
they
cut
them
off
in
June
again
 this
year.
You
didn’t
go
to
the
IME,
you
refused
medical
treatment.

 14:45
 How’d
you
get
started
working
over
there?
 I
 got
 started
 it
 was
 over
 a
 CB
 radio,talking
 to
 some
 guys.
 I
 got
 a
 phone
 number,
 called
 them
 up
 and
 did
 all
 the
 paperwork
 through
 the
 compute.r
 Next
 thing
 you
 know,
I
got
a
date
to
be
in
Houston
Texas
two
week
orientation.
 We
heade
to
Germany,
then
to
Iraq.
I
didn’t
know
A
from
Z
when
I
first
got
there.
I
 more
or
less
listened
and
watched
and
learned
quick.
 I
 got
 to
 go
 to
 Camp
 Mortaritaville,
 and
 the
 men
 you’re
 with
 there,
 everybody’s
 an
 American.
There’s
no
such
thing
as
you’re
from
Montana
or
Kansas
City.
Everybody
 works
 really
 well
 together.
 Me
 being
 as
 old
 as
 I
 was,
 I
 did
 a
 job
 that
 needed
 to
 be
 done.
 16:40





98


I’ve
been
used
to
working
all
my
life,
and
they
took
that
away
from
me.
So
I
would
 choose
something
else,
but
I
can’t
do
it.
Hurts
too
damn
bad.

 17;30
 
You
know
the
lawyers
don’t
mind,
because
they
get
paid
so
much
per
hour.
 17:45
 So
how
do
you
spend
your
time
on
a
given
day?
 You’re
 looking
 at
 it.
 Sometimes
 I’ll
 get
 on
 the
 laptop,
 go
 out
 and
 do
 yardwork.
 Sometimes
it
takes
2‐3
days
to
mow
the
lawn.
 C‐5
and
C‐6
are
problem
vertenae
 20:00
 Nothing’s
changed.
It’s
not
getting
better,
it’s
actually
getting
worse.
The
disc
in
your
 neck
ain’t
gonna
get
no
better.
I’ve
had
one
surgery
–
they
OK’d
it
that
time.
But
once
 they
found
out
I
had
an
attorney,
it
was
like
I
hist
a
brick
wall.
 21:48
 Politics
in
this
country
–
they
need
to
change.
 23:45
 They
did
all
kinds
of
tests
on
us
before
we
went
over.
There
was
no
wa,y
shape
or
 form
a
man
could’ve
bene
disabled
before
he
went.
 25”00
 They
teach
a
little
bit
of
everthing,
you
listen
to
a
little
bit
of
everything.
We
really
 didn’t
know
who
SEII
was
until
we
got
to
Iraq
–
we
found
out
oh,
we
don’t
work
fro
 KBR,
we
work
for
SEII,
they
work
in
the
Caynman
islands.
 27:10
 I
enjoyed
working
for
KBR.
Now,
I
wish
to
hell
I
never
would’ve
worked
for
them.
I
 wouldn’t
be
sick,
I’d
be
working.
 27:44
 It
makes
you
swallow
your
pride,
it
erally
does.
But
what
do
you
do?
 28:00





99


It’s
just
me,
my
wife
was
working
prior,
but
that
expired
now.
She’ll
hopefully
get
a
 just
next
month.
 We
moved
here
in
May
of
2006.
Came
back
from
Iraqin
January.
My
mother
in
law’s
 husband,
he
passed
away.
My
mom
passed
away
in
September
of
’05
and
I
went
to
 work
in
Iraq
in
October
of
’05.
 30:41
 How
far
will
your
story
get?
Besides
to
the
college?
I
hope
you
get
some
attention,
 because
attention
is
something
we
are
not
getting.
Not
from
Senators,
Congressmen.
 We’re
not
getting
nowhere.
 33:05
 They
 know
 exactly
 how
 many
 people
have
been
 injured
nad
 how
 many
 have
 been
 killed.
But
they
don’t
tell
the
people
of
the
United
States
this
in
the
newspaper.
You
 don’t
read
that.
Last
I
heard
it
was
over
12,000
injured,
over
1,000
killed.
But
they
 don’t
put
that
in
the
paper.
Why?
 33:35
 We
are
no
different
from
the
military.
You
abnide
by
military
standards.
You
geti
n
a
 firefight,
you’re
getting
your
ass
shot
at
like
everyone
else.
You
can’t
shoot
back.
You
 go
outside
the
wire,
they
should
give
you
a
gun.
You
get
back
to
the
base,
you
hand
it
 back
in.
But
I
tell
you,
you
get
fired
at
and
can’t
fire
back,
it
makes
you
mad.
It’s
an
 adrenaline
rush.
 34:20
 You
can
bump
another
truck
on
the
base,
and
they
fire
you.
But
you
go
outside
the
 wire,
 and
 get
 blown
 all
 to
 hell,
 you
 don’t
 get
 fired.
 You
 know
 why?
 Because
 the
 government’s
going
to
pay
for
it.
It’s
that
simple.
 35:00
 Can
you
tell
me
a
little
about
what
it’s
like
working
over
there?
 The
roads
over
there
and
the
driving
conditions
–
they
say
you’re
going
Hajji,
you’re
 going
60
mph
and
you’re
driving
across
the
median
strip.
The
trucks
are
loaded
a
lot
 heavier
over
there.
You
might
hit
a
two‐foot
ditch
and
you
hope
and
pray
you
land
 with
 your
 tires
 on
 asphalt
 on
 the
 other
 side.
 If
 there’s
 traffic
 coming
 in
 the
 other
 direction,
you’re
running
them
off
into
the
ditch.
I’ve
done
it.
 36:40





100


They’ve
been
fighting
over
there
for
2,000
years
–
what
part
of
that
are
people
here
 going
 to
 understand?
 They’re
 not
 going
 to
 give
 up.
 I
 know
 they’re
 getting
 things
 from
Iran
because
there’s
no
way
they
can
be
producing
anything
in
Iraq.
There’s
no
 industry
there.
Of
course
it
comes
from
Iran.
 38:25
 For
all
that,
what
did
you
like
about
being
there?
 The
 adrenaline
 rush,
 going
 outside
 the
 wire.
 Getting
 out
 of
 the
 gate.
 Getting
 out
 there
where
I
belonged
as
a
truck
driver.
That’s
what
I
belong
doing,
driving
atruck.
 You
made
friends
with
the
men.
You
made
friends
quickly,
you
chose
them
wisely.
 39:30
 Iraq
in
general
is
a
hellhole.
But
as
far
as
working
there,
I
liked
the
work.
I
like
the
 people
I
worked
with,
not
the
Iraqi
Shiite
and
Sunni.
 40:30
 I’m
 from
 Tennessee
 originally,
 born
 and
 raised.
 I’m
 used
 to
 the
 military,
 never
 bothered
me.
Taking
orders
from
military
was
nothing
new.
But
that’s
what
we
did,
 we
were
no
different
from
military,
but
we
got
kicked
under
the
rug
like
dirt.
 41:15
 I
 do
 [have
 access
 to
 VA
 benefits,
 as
 a
 veteran]
 but
 why
 should
 I
 fall
 back
 on
 VA
 benefits
when
it’s
not
the
VA’s
fault.
This
is
KBR’s
fault.
I
could
use
my
VA,
yeah,
but
 would
it
be
right?
No.
I
don’t
believe
two
wrongs
make
a
right.
It
would
be
wrong.
 43:30
 We
were
coming
from
TQ,
stopped
in
front
of
Armadi.
The
convoy
commander
got
 the
OK
from
the
military
to
stop
and
let
us
use
the
bathroom.
So
I
stepped
out
of
the
 up‐armored
–
what’s
called
a
Franken‐armor
truck,
a
prototype.
I
was
just
about
to
 unzip
my
pants
when
all
of
a
sudden,
I
was
literally
getting
the
shit
beaten
out
of
me.
 I
didn’t
know
if
I’d
been
shot
or
what,
I
just
knew
I
was
bleeding
hard.
I
got
on
the
 radio
and
said
I’d
been
hit.
 44:50
 we
took

a
break
to
take
a
piss,
and
the
window
just
let
loose
out
of
the
pane.
It
had
a

 keeper
 and
 I
 had
 that
 truck
 all
 weekend
 long
 and
 nothing’s
 wrong
 with
 the
 truck.
 We
leave
that
night
at
7:15,
get
out
to
take
a
leak.
And
the
roads
from
TQ
to
Armadi
 are
rough,
full
of
potholes
bigger
than
that
coffee
table.
That’s
what
you
hit.
I
mean,
 dusty,
nasty.





101


It
 was
 the
 driver’s
 side
 glass
 in
 the
 door.
 And
 I’m
 four
 feet
 under
 it.
 That
 was
 90
 pounds.
 48:00
 6:00
 in
 the
 morning
 I
 went
 to
 the
 medics,
 and
 they
 took
 Durabond
 and
 glued
 the
 skin
 together
 on
 my
 face.
 They
 said
 there
 were
 stitches
 on
 my
 face,
 btu
 it
 was
 Durabond.
So,
they’re
lying.
 49:00
 (Dogs
barking)
That’s
Star
and
Dudley.
Dudley
is
a
mini
Doberman
we
rescued
from
 being
put
to
sleep.
 49:55
 If
 my
 paychecks
 are
 coming
 like
 they’re
 supposed
 to
 be
 coming,
 that’s
 fine,
 I
 can
 make
payments.
What
do
I
do
if
not,
do
I
put
my
farm
up
for
a
second
mortgage?
I
 have
200
acres
in
Tennessee.
Rogersville,
Tennesse,
in
what’s
called
Poor
Valley.
 53:00
 I
 drove
 a
 truck
 since
 1974.
 Yeah,
 I
 trucked
 all
 my
 life.
 Oversize,
 over
 height,
 overweight.

 55:28
 I’ve
had
bullets
go
by
my
nose,
and
I
can
feel
the
heat
of
the
bullet
as
it
goes
by.
That
 is
close.
 56:20
 Had
you
seen
combat
like
that
before?
 No.
 Did
your
military
background
prepare
you
to
go
over
there?
 Oh
yeah,
I
know
what
those
land
mines
can
do.

You
got
to
be
mentally
prepared
to
 go
 into
a
 place
like
 that.
 It’s
 tough
 over
there.
 But
 I’ve
got
to
say,
I
enjoyed
what
 I
 did.
I’d
go
back
there.
I
don’t
think
it’d
get
no
better
than
driving
a
truck.
 Overseein’,
trainin’,
whatever.
Driver
training.
But
I
don’t
think
it
gets
no
better
than
 driving
a
truck.
And
there’s
nothing
much
I
don’t
know
about
trucks,
from
to
back,
 side
to
side.
I
know
trucks.
There’s
naything
wrong
with
the
trucks,
I
spot
it,
I
spot
it
 quick.
 58:00





102


The
 truck
 with
 the
 window
 that
 fell
 out
 and
 hit
 you,
 was
 that
 one
 of
 the
 Mercedes
 trucks?
 That
 was
 a
 Mercedes
 up‐armored,
 it
 was
 a
 prototype.
 They
 called
 it
 a
 Franken‐ armor,
 or
 Frankenstein.
 They
 was
 doing
 this
 to
 try
 and
 build
 a
 truck
 that
 would
 protect
the
drivers.
This
was
designed
by
a
company
out
in
Florida.
Rinopac
was
the
 name
of
the
model.

 1:00:00
 I
was
taking
pictures,
but
they
had
that
truck
hid
so
fast.
And
then
they
had
it
put
 back
together
and
got
it
ready
for
a
parade
for
some
general
on
base.
 I
 got
 there
 October
 23,
 2005
 and
 got
 injured
 January
 4,
 2006.
 I
 was
 flown
 out
 January
23,
2006.
I
was
there
three
months
exactly.
 What
were
you
doing
in
those
three
weeks
in
between?
 Foreman
 wouldn’t
 let
 me
 do
 nothing.
 I
 couldn’t
 keep
 my
 balance,
 I
 was
 uncoordinated.
 I
 was
 doing
 paperwork,
 stuff
 like
 that.
 My
 foreman
 talked
 to
 his
 supervisor,
they
gave
me
a
one‐way
ticket
back
to
the
states.
 
 1:02:00
 When
 I
 gto
 back,
 KBR
 called
 and
 wanted
 to
 talk
 to
 me.
 I
 said,
 OK
 how
 about
 12
 tomorrow,
 and
 at
 12
 the
 next
 day,
 they
 were
 in
 my
 driveway
 in
 Tennessee
 –
 and
 wouldn’t
 you
 know,
 they
 had
 the
 pictures
 that
 I
 took.
 They
 showed
 up
 in
 my
 driveway
the
very
next
day,
blowing
all
this
smoke
up
my
ass.
‘Oh,
you’ll
be
taken
 care
 of,
 everything’ll
 be
 paid
 for.’
 That
 was
 AIG’s
 folks.
 That
 was
 the
 insurance
 company.
 Nobody’s
ever
been
out
to
my
hosue
again.
One
time,
that’s
it.
One‐time
deal.
And
I
 hope
 I
 don’t
 see
 them
 again.
 I’m
 mad
 at
 them,
 yeah.
 Well,
 when
 something’s
 your
 fault,
what’s
so
bad
about
covering
people?
Why
go
through
all
this
bullshit,
when
 you
can
take
care
of
someone
a
lot
cheaper
by
just
going
ahead
and
doing
it
without
 paying
all
that
extra?
 1:05:00
 They’re
causing
a
lot
of
personal
injury,
mentally,
physically.
This
is
mental
abuse.
 I’m
 seeing
 a
 psychiatrist
 right
 now,
 it
 got
 so
 bad.
 Taking
 antidepressants,
 Prozac.
 Ritinol,
I’m
taking
that
for
depression.
 Is
that
post­traumatic
stress?





103


It’s
 just
 depression
 from
 this
 with
 AIG,
 cutting
 the
 checks
 off,
 not
 knowing
 if
 I’m
 going
to
pay
my
mortgage,
keep
my
family
close.

 1:06:10
 I’ve
always
been
a
hunter
all
my
life,
seen
blood.
That
don’t
bother
me
near
as
bad
as
 some
of
this
crap
and
being
screwed
over.
AIG
is
screwing
us
over.
I
can
deal
with
 the
post‐traumatic
stress
part.
I
don’t
have
a
problem
with
that,
I
can
deal
with
that.
 It’s
just
the
being
screwed
over
part
that
I
don’t
like.
 1:07:00
 Do
 you
 understand
 what
 I’m
 trying
 to
 tell
 you?
 If
 you’re
 going
 to
 take
 care
 of
 business,
 take
 care
 of
 business.
 I
 trusted
 them.
 Then
 when
 I
 got
 back,
 whoa
 Nelly.
 Yes,
I
got
a
nice
home,
but
I
worked
hard.
It’s
a
$300,000
house,
and
I
did
not
put
a
 penny
down.
 
 EddieBarker4
 I’ve
been
working
since
I
was
6
years
of
age,
working
in
the
tobacco
fields
with
my
 daddy.
We
worked
on
it.
I’d
plant
tobacco,
haul
it,
hand‐tie
it
into
baskets.
 2:20
 When
I
talked
to
David
[Boiles]
before,
he
said
you
were
in
the
hospital?
 Yeah,
 because
 of
 all
 the
 stress
 and
 aggravation,
 them
 cutting
 off
 my
 checks,
 not
 knowing
where
my
next
check
is
going
to
come
from.
I
got
a
little
bit
on
the
loopy
 side
and
was
going
to
piss
on
it
and
take
my
life,
I
went
into
the
hospital
for
a
little
 psychiatric
treatment.
It
got
that
bad.
 What
happened?
 I
 was
 here
 by
 myself
 and
 it
 was
 five
 years
 to
 the
 day
 that
 my
 daddy
 died.
 It
 was
 August
8th.
I
was
here
by
myself
nad
I
was
gonna
give
it
up.
It
got
that
bad.
They
put
 me
 through
 so
 much
 stress,
 day
 after
 day.
 When
 is
 that
 day
 finally
 going
 to
 come
 where
 they
 say,
 look
 this
 is
 it,
 we’re
 gonn
 fix
 you
 up,
 get
 you
 back
 to
 par,
 back
 to
 work.
That’s
all
I’m
looking
for
is
leave
me
the
hell
alone.
Get
it
done
and
over
with,
 that’s
all
I’m
asking
for.
 3:45
 Was
it
Ruth
that
took
you
to
the
hospital?





104


Ah,
 no,
 State
 Troopers
 took
 me
 to
 the
 hospital
 in
 a
 pair
 of
 handcuffs.
 I
 called
 up
 Mary,
she’s
a
nurse
for
Dr.
Rosenthal.
I
told
her,
I
can’t
take
the
pressure
no
more.
I
 can’t
take
not
having
control
of
my
life.
I
told
her
I’m
just
going
to
end
it.
She
said
 hold
on,
put
me
on
hold,
and
I
know
what
she’s
doing
then.
I
know
she
was
calling
 the
state
troopers.
She
says
don’t
do
it,
just
hold
on.
Just
go
outside,
don’t
do
it.
 I
had
my
9mm
out.
I’m
on
medication
now,
so
it’s
a
lot
better.
But
you
know
what,
it
 should’ve
never
went
that
far.
I
mean,
I
got
two
boys
and
a
girl
that
I
love
more
than
 anything
in
the
world.
 With
me
being
a
pain
in
the
ass,
and
nothing
going
right
for
me,
it
really
put
a
lot
of
 stress
on
my
family.
Because
AIG
was
putting
me
through
a
living
hell.
And
they
still
 are,
 but
 with
 the
 medication,
 it’s
 not
 as
 bad
 as
 it
 was.
 Cause
 the
 treatment,
 the
 medication
 it
 don’t
 make
 your
 mind
 wander.
 It’s
 an
 antidepressant.
 Suicidal,
 bigtime.
 It
 got
 that
 bad.
 But
 August
 is
 a
 bad
 month.
 My
 dad
 and
 my
 brother
 were
 buried
on
each
others’
birthdays.
 
 EddieBarker5
 I’ve
smoked
cigarettes
since
I
was
knee‐high
to
a
june
bug,
so
I’ve
always
had
a
way
 to
 pay
 for
 everything
 I
 ever
 done.
 And
 now,
 I
 don’t
 have
 that
 control.
 And
 yes,
 I
 blame
AIG.
I’m
waiting
for
a
phone
call,
I’m
waiting
on
another
IME
now.
They’ve
got
 to
send
me
another
date
and
time.
 
 I
 take
 one
 10mg
 of
 diazepam
 a
 night,
 three
 Zyrtec
 at
 night,
 one
 Prozac
 a
 day,
 and
 Envigra,
another
antidepressant.
This
is
all
covered
by
the
state.
The
medical
bills
–
 I’ve
been
in
the
hospital
twice,
once
with
kidney
stones.
 
 





105


Clyde
Nipper,
Interviewed
September
7,
2008,
in
Salt
Lake
City,
Utah
 ClydeNipper1
 2:00
 Since
I
been
back,
it
ain’t
been
worth
a
shit
to
start
with,
if
you
want
to
know
that.
 This
is
my
every
day
if
you
want.
This
is
where
I
live.
 4:08
 You
start
it,
and
I
guess
I’ll
just
answer
as
we
go.
 ClydeNipper2
 So
you
can’t
go
on
the
computer.
 No,
 I’ve
 lost
 –
 see
 ,I’ve
 got
 this
 part
 of
 my
 brain
 blown
 out.
 That’s
 the
 part
 I
 had
 ,
 where
I
used
to
 (Clyde
came
back
with
an
IQ
of
76.
He’s
lost
the
ability
to
–
all
the
college
that
he
had
 because
he
only
has
about
a
4th,
5th
grade
level
reading
and
spelling.)
 1:00
 See,
I
got
this
eye
blowed
out.
I
still
got
shrapnel
here
in
my
head.
 Has
it
been
a
while
since
your
last
operation?
 They’ve
 operated
 a
 lot,
 but
 now
 they’re
 trying
 to
 cut
 be
 off
 because
 they
 –
 I
 got
 a
 hole
right
here.
 (Those
pictures
right
there
show
it)
 They
put
a
plate
in
there,
but
now
I
got
a
hole
right
here.
The
doctor
that
done
the
 operation
on
my
eye
and
everything
–
he’s
already
took
me
into
–
cause
they
won’t
 pay
the
bill.
 AIG
won’t
pay
the
bill
for
the
operation?
 No,
 for
 them
 seeing
 me.
 They
 told,
 when
 they
 called
 up,
 they
 told
 them
 they
 have
 paid
my
maximum
that
they’ll
pay
on
that.
He
wants
to
fill
this
out,
cause
I’ve
got
a
 hole
right
here.
That
was
in
November,
and
my
case
workers
complained
and
they
 stopped
it.
 2:50
 Now
I’ve
got
to
cancel,
because
they’re
not
paying
their
bills.






106


3:13
 (They
are
trying
to
cut
you
off
because
it’s
going
on
three
years.
We’ve
had
so
many
 things
 wrong
 with
 him,
 so
 they’re
 still
 carrying
 him.
 He’s
 a
 rarity
 –
 normally
 they
 don’t
carry
him
that
long.
A
case
worker
said
they
normally
cut
a
person
off
after
a
 year.
 With
 him,
 though,
 they
 said
 they’d
 take
 care
 of
 him
 the
 rest
 of
 his
 life,
 medically.)
 4:00
 (They’re
 contradicting
 themselves.
 They
 say,
 we’ll
 take
 care
 of
 you
 as
 long
 as
 it’s
 accident‐related
 for
 the
 rest
 of
 your
 life,
 but
 then
 when
 anything
 more
 comes
 up
 now,
they
don’t
want
to
do
it.
It’s
an
AIG
case
worker
through
Corvel.)
 They’re
here
in
Salt
Lake.
 5:00
 The
doc
gave
me
and
the
case
worker
papers
saying
I’m
done.
I
still
go
into
seizures
 now.
 What
 they’ve
 done
 is,
 she’s
 got
 me
 going
 to
 one
 of
 AIG’s
 doctors
 now
 in
 two
 weeks,
to
see
if
I’m
capable
of
going
to
work,
and
I
can’t
–
there’s
no
way
I
can
be
 able
to
do
that.
But
they
pay
them
doctors
pretty
good
money,
so
you
never
know
 what
he’s
gonna
say.
 6:00
 That’s
where
my
doctors
are,
the
hostpial
here
in
Salt
Lake,
the
University
of
Utah.
 I’ve
never
been
in
bad
shape,
I’ve
never
needed
a
doctor
in
my
whole
life.
 7:40
 How
long
ago
was
your
injury?
 It
was
November
of
’05
–
it
was
what
day?
The
25th
or
something
like
that.
 How
long
til
you
could
come
home?
 (He
spent
a
whole
month
in
the
hospital.
I
think
he
went
to
Baghdad
first,
then
over
 to
Anaconda,
just
to
stabilize
him.
Then
they
flew
him
to
Landstuhl,
Germany
at
that
 Army
 hospital
 there.
 That’s
 where
 he
 had
 his
 first
 brain
 operation
 and
 neck
 operation.
We
figure
he
must
have
taken
a
lot
of
shrapnel
in
his
neck,
because
they
 sliced
 open
 both
 sides
 of
 his
 neck
 and
 we
 never
 found
 out
 why
 ‘cause
 we
 could
 never
get
the
records
from
Landstuhl.)
 9:30





107


(The
 university
 was
 never
 sent
 any
 papers
 from
 Landstuhl,
 that’s
 what
 made
 me
 mad.
I
had
signed
papers
saying
that
they
could.
He
came
to
the
U
with
an
infection
 of
the
lungs
they
had
to
treat
immediately.
They
didn’t
know
what
they
had
done
to
 his
head,
because
when
he
arrived
in
the
chopper,
he
looked
like
a
mummy.
He
was
 all
gauzed
up
down
to
the
chest,
so
he
had
these
big
longs
scars
down
his
neck
and
 the
surgery,
some
of
it,
already
done
on
his
head.)
 10:50
 (He
probably
went
into
his
first
seizures
in
Landstuhl
because
he’s
got
scars
on
his
 wrists
 where
 he
 was
 tied
 down.
 He
 actually
 cut
 –
 show
 him
 the
 scars.
 So
 hard
 it
 ripped
open
his
wrists.)
 11:30
 Do
you
remember
any
of
that?
 No,
 they
 put
 me
 to
 bed
 after
 they
 pulled
 me
 out
 of
 the
 truck,
 I
 can’t
 remember
 nothing.
 What’s
the
first
thing
you
remember
after
that?
 Well,
they
took
me
our
of
the
truck
and
put
me
in
the
SRV.
They
must’ve
given
me
 some
morphine.
 (The
major
said
they
had
to
put
his
eyeball
back
in
his
head.)
 I
didn’t
even
know
it
was
bad.
 (They
said
they
sat
him
up
by
the
truck,put
his
eyeball
back
in
his
head,
wrapped
his
 head
and
gave
him
a
shot
before
they
took
him
away.)
 12:30
 So
you
were
conscious
after
the
accident
and
didn’t
realize
how
bad
it
was?
 (He
was
probably
in
shock
.he
was
sitting
there
smoking.)
 Is
that
right?
You
actually
stopped
and
lit
up
a
cigarette
afterward?
 Well,
the
truck
died.
I
guess
I
went
after
the
military
pulled
me
out
of
the
jeep.
 (they
were
going
right
through
Baghdad,
in
enemy
territory.)
 Maybe
just
being
nervous,
I
don’t
know.
 13:28





108


Basically,
 we
 went
 out
 on
 convoys
 all
 the
 time.
 We
 got
 shot
 at
 times,
 we’ve
 had
 double
military
escort
us
into
places
because
there
was
so
much
shooting.
This
one
 particular
 time
 we
 were
 going,
 and
 I
 was
 the
 last
 truck
 on
 the
 convoy.
 We
 were
 taking
 a
 big
 heavy
 piece
 of
 equipment
 to
 Kuwait,
 and
 just
 got
 into
 Baghdad
 and
 I
 ended
up
hitting
that
–
 14:22
 (that
road
was
swept
for
mines,
but
I
guess
this
one
they
come
up
from
behind
and
 threw
it
into
the
truck.)
 I
saw
a
guy,
I
went
after
him.
I
was
gonna
run
after
him,
but
the
truck
never
made
it.
 (It
 blew
 from
 the
 bottom
 of
 the
 truck
 up.
 It
 come
 up
 through
 the
 floor,
 hit
 his
 left
 side.
His
passenger
got
it
on
his
side
too)
 We
 hauled
 big
 heavy
 tankers,
 stuff
 like
 that,
 there
 always
 had
 to
 be
 two
 people
 in
 the
truck.
 15:22
 (KBR,
they
covered
up
his
truck,
they
wouldn’t
even
let
nobody
take
photographs
of
 his
truck
because
their
trucks
are
supposed
to
be
armored
and
they
weren’t.)
 There
was
no
armor?
 Hell
 no.
 These
 were
 all
 brand
 new
 Mercedes
 trucks.
 They
 weren’
 United
 States
 trucks,
they
were
all
European.
No
armor.
 16:13
 He
was
off
to
the
side
of
the
road.
The
truck
died
out
on
me
before
I
got
after
him.
 The
military
came
in
after
the
truck
stopped
and
took
us
out
of
the
truck.
 16:45
 (He
broke
formation
nad
went
after
the
guy.
The
military
saw
him
take
off
after
him,
 nad
 I
 guess
 that’s
 when
 the
 truck
 died.
 Knowing
 him,
 he
 was
 probably
 in
 shock
 doing
something
like
that.)
 Oh
yeah,
I
was
on
my
road
to
get
that
guy.
 How
far
did
you
make
it?
 Probably
half
a
block,
maybe.
 18:30





109


I
can’t
remember
nothing.
I
still
have
shrapnel
in
my
head.
I
got
shrapnel
in
my
leg
 and
in
my
butt
because
they’re
scared
to
take
it
out.
 (The
piece
of
shrapnel
by
his
eye,
they
said
it
acts
like
a
plug
in
his
brain,
so
they’re
 afraid
 to
 take
 it
 out.
 They
 said
 it
 would
 implode
 his
 brain
 out
 if
 they
 took
 it
 out.
 That’s
what
they
were
afraid
of.
They’ll
just
leave
it
in
and
the
body
will
eventually
 encapsulate
it.)
 21:02
 Besides
that,
it
wasn’t
htat
bad
to
work
over
there.

You
know,
you
got
to
see
some
 beautiful
country.
It
was
just
a
matter
of
how
Kellog

Brown
and
Root
screwed
you
 over.
All
you
was
was
a
number
over
there.
They
wanted
a
particular
type
of
person
 over
there
and
that
was
a
truck
driver,
and
that
was
it.
 So
you
felt
like
you
came
over
with
some
skills
that
could
help
to
do
something
more
 interesting?
 Well,
I
was
an
operations
manager
before
I
went
over
there,
but
you
know
I’d
been
a
 very
successful
person
in
my
lifetime.
KBR
turned
around
and
all
they
wanted
was
a
 dang
truck
driver.
It’s
too
bad.
 22:02
 The
woman
lied
to
me,
she
says,
just
go
over
there
and
they’ll
move
you
right
up.
But
 you
 know,
 the
 thing
 that’s
 really
 bad
 is,
 after
 all
 this
 took
 place,
 my
 wife
 and
 my
 grandson,
 they
 took
 us
 off
 all
 that.
 We
 don’t
 have
 no
 insurance
 whatsoever.
 It
 just
 put
 me
 in
 really
 bad
 debt.
 My
 wife
 –
 it’s
 just
 created
 really
 bad
 problems
 for
 her.
 We’ve
had
to
put
her
in
the
hospital.
It’s
been
pretty
distressing.
 22:40
 (He
 was
 in
 the
hospital
getting
checked
up.
I’m
 his
caregiver.
I
guess
 all
the
 stress
 was
bothering
my
heart.
I
had
chest
pains
really
bad.
I
told
the
nurse,
so
she
says
I
 can’t
check
you,
we
have
to
admit
you.
I
was
put
on
medicine
for
my
heart.
That
was
 about
a
year
ago.
I’m
still
taking
the
medicine.)
 We’re
still
paying
the
bills
too.
That’s
one
thing
I
don’t
like
about
KBR,
they
cut
me
 off
insurance
as
soon
as
I
come
home.
 24:00
 When
I
got
blown
up
–
as
far
as
I
was
concerned,
I
was
still
working
for
them,
but
 they
cut
me
off.
 24;28





110


(You
got
a
letter
three
months
after
his
injury,
he
got
a
letter
saying
he
was
fired.)
 Is
that
the
last
you
heard
from
KBR?
 Yep.
 Did
anyone
from
the
company
follow
up
with
you
afterwards?
 No,
just
the
case
workers.
Nobody
from
KBR.
 (I
thought
that’s
nice,
how
they
expect
him
to
show
up
to
work
if
he’s
bed‐ridden?)
 25:55
 All
 of
 our
 injuries
 are
 all
 different,
 you
 know.
 Mine
 is
 mostly
 in
 the
 head,
 and
 Big
 Un’s
is
in
the
back.
Art’s
was
just
–
I
was
on
that
convoy,
but
they
took
me
off
and
 swapped
me
a
different
piece
of
equipment
to
go
to
Kuwait.
 26:45
 We’re
 always
 in
 the
 back.
 We’re
 the
 heavy
 equipment
 operators.
 We
 were
 heavy‐ duty
I
guess
you
want
to
call
it.
We
hauled
nothing
but
heavy
equipment.
We
hauled
 tanks.
 27:45
 How
was
it
keeping
in
touch
with
home
from
over
there?
 (He
 couldn’t
 use
 his
 own
 phone
 over
 there.
 The
 govt’
 completely
 cut
 off
 all
 the
 phones,
all
personal
phones
were
off‐limits.
)
 29:23
 (I
was
an
avid
news
watcher,
and
I
would
watch
scenes
and
happenings
over
there
 in
 Baghdad
 and
 other,
 Fallujah
 and
 all
 over
 the
 place.
 I
 knew
 what
 was
 going
 on.
 Those
convoys
were
not
safe
at
all.
For
the
strangest
thing,
I
picked
up
on
the
fact
 that
 they
 could
 not
 shoot
 back
 if
 they
 were
 being
 shot
 at.
 That’s
 crazy,
 that’s
 absolutely
 crazy.
 The
 military
 too
 –
 all
 the
 drivers
 were
 not
 allowed
 to
 carry
 any
 weapons
whatsoever)
 30:52
 How
did
you
find
out
that
Clyde
Had
been
injured?

 (Oh
 gosh,
 it
 was
 probably
 the
 next
 day.
 Cause
 he
 got
 hit
 in
 the
 wee
 hours
 of
 the
 morning,
like
3
or
4
in
the
morning
their
time,
and
I
didn’t
know
until
the
next
day.
 And
then
–
I
don’t
know
what
rank,
a
commander
or
somebody
there
in
Anaconda
 called
me
and
told
me
he
ahd
been
injured.
And
he
was
(crying)
–
they
were
going
to





111


keep
him
for
a
little
while
but
he
would
end
up
in
Germany
and
they
wouldn’t
tell
 me
how
bad
he
was
hurt.
I
had
to
get
that
from
–
like
a
couple
days
later,
somebody
 that
 wasn’t
 even
 in
 his
 unit,
 he
 was
 working
 in
 the
 office,
 he
 was
 a
 high
 ranking
 officer
but
he
was
in
Baghdad.
He
called
me
and
kind
of
went
over
the
same
thing.
I
 started
pumping
him
for
information,
and
he
says
well,
I
don’t
know
too
much
but
I
 can
tell
you
what
‘s
coming
in
on
my
paperwork.
That’s
when
I
got
all
the
details
of
 what
happened
with
him.)
 33:23
 (He
told
me
about
his
eye,
that
he
took
extensive
damage
to
his
head
and
I
was
here
 all
 alone
 in
 –
 it’s
 terrible
 hearing
 that
 because
 you
 feel
 so
 helpless.
 I
 didn’t
 know
 what
 to
 do.
 He
said,
 he
 will
 end
 up
in
Germany.
I
didn’t
 know
anything
about
that
 kind
of
stuff.
He
said,
well,
that’s
where
most
of
them
go
up
to
Landstuhl.)
 36:08
 (he’s
had
a
couple
of
plates
because
one
plate
got
infected,
he
had
a
brain
infection.
 It
was
a
staph
infection
that
went
internally.
When
the
plate
was
put
in,
one
of
the
 screws
 started
 popping
 out
 of
 his
 head
 here,
 so
 it
 exposed
 the
 whole
 thing
 to
 the
 outside
bacteria.
So
he
got
staph
in
there,
and
it
was
so
dangerous
to
have
staph
on
 your
brain,
he
was
on
intravenous
antibiotics
for
a
month,
6
weeks.
When
he
was
at
 home.
I’m
not
a
nurse
and
I
had
to
do
a
pic
line,
his
IV
pic
line
a
couple
times
a
day,
 we
had
to
change
the
tubing
and
put
medicine
in
there.
It
was
awful.
 37:30
 Did
you
do
anything
special
for
Christmas
at
the
hospital?
 Well,
family
was
around,
but
nothing
out
of
the
ordinary.
They
flew
in
and
come
up
 and
stuff.
 Where’s
your
family?
 All
over.
St.
George,
Vegas.

 You
grew
up
in
Salt
Lake
City?
 Yeah
I
was
born
and
raised
at
Salt
Lake.
Went
to
school
at
the
U
of
Utah,
and
then
 Weber
State.
 What
did
you
study?
 All
 business.
 That’s
 where
 I
 wanted
 to
 be
 at
 was
 in
 business.
 My
 father
 had
 a
 business,
I
just
worked
with
my
dad
to
keep
the
family
going.
 38:40





112


(He
was
a
professional
trucker
for
30
years.
He
worked
for
Weyerhauser
for
a
little
 bit)
 That’s
when
I
was
an
operations
manager.
 (He’s
always
had
a
couple
management
positions,
but
he
always
fell
back
on
being
a
 trucker
 because
 he
 could
 make
 more
 money.
 That’s
 why
 he
 kept
 falling
 back
 onto
 lon‐haul
trucking)
 39:19
 We
wanted
to
pay
this
house
off.
And
we
had
children
and
stuff.
We’ve
had
to
help
 them
 out
 and
 everything,
 and
 now
 we’re
 in
 debt
 because
 we
 had
 to
 refinance
 this
 house.
 (that
was
the
whole
purpose
of
going
over
to
Iraq.
This
was
going
to
be
his
last
job
 before
 he
 retires.
 Then
 he
 was
 gong
 ot
 make
 enough
 money
 to
 pay
 off
 the
 house,
 come
home
and
we’d
have
a
retirement.
The
house
would
be
paid
off,
and
we
could
 finally
go
and
do
something.
Then
this
happener,
nad
I
was
left
with
a
whole
bunch
 of
credit
cards.
We
had
to
refinance
this
house
and
they
ate
a
whole
bunch
of
credit
 cards,
 and
 it’s
 right
 back
 to
 square
 one
 again.
 I
 had
 my
 house
 half
 paid
 down,
 but
 nowi
 t’s
 back
 up
 there
 again.
 With
 no
 insurance,
 we’re
 back
 into
 debt
 again.
 Just
 medical
bills.)
 40:30
 Are
you
working
now
too?
 She
 babysits
 me.
 That’s
 what’s
 so
 very
 disappointing,
 them
 making
 me
 go
 see
 another
doctor
in
the
system,
but
she’s
the
one
that’s
been
able
to
pack
me
around,
 carry
 me
 around
 and
 stuff.
 I
 can’t
 drive.
 I
 got
 all
 that
 beautiful
 equiopment
 and
 I
 can’t
drive
cause
I
have
seizures
all
the
time
so
I’m
just
stuck
here
in
the
house.
 41:30
 Then
 I
 have
 seizures
 and
 sometimes
 I
 have
 short
 seizures,
 but
 there
 was
 a
 couple
 dyas
she
said
I
had
real
long
ones.
 (they
started
out
in
the
beginning
as
typical
seizures.
Fall
down
on
the
ground
and
 you’re
 semi
 conscious,
 you
 don’t
 know
 anything
 goin
 on.
 Like
 gran
 maul
 seizures.
 But
 the
 seizures
 he
 has
 now
 are
 the
 little
 ones
 up
 inhis
 head,
 and
 they
 make
 him
 confuse,d
they
make
him
disoriented.
He
knows
kind
of
when
they’re
coming
on,
so
 he
 has
 a
 little
 of
 a
 warning.
 They
 come
 on
 quickly,
 and
 sometimes—his
 last
 one
 lasted
about
a
half
a
day.
That
was
something
new
for
us.
In
2
½
years,
he’d
never
 had
 one
 like
 that.
 And
 I
 kept
 trying
 to
 call
 into
 his
 doctor,
 qhich
 is
 a
 seizure
 eqpileptic
clinic
and
I
couldn’t
get
through.
So
I
just
gave
him
an
extra
seizure
pill,





113


the
dilantin.
And
the
doctor
said
that
was
OK
later
on.
That
was
around
noon.
But
he
 woke
 up
 in
 the
 morning
 nad
 knew
 something
 was
 kind
 of
 wrong.
 He
 wasn’t
 very
 well
for
the
rest
of
the
day.
That
was
about
a
month
ago)
 
43:30
 The
doctor
was
mad
because
the
case
worker
never
showed
up
for
the
appointment
 –
they
finally
got
me
in.
He
was
mad
about
that.
These
case
workers,
they’re
kind
of
 a
little
flaky.
 (The
case
workers
have
only
been
there
about
half
the
time
for
his
visits,
and
they’re
 supposed
to
be
there
every
time.
Taking
notes,
reporting
back
to
the
company,
help
 us
make
decisions.
We’ve
got
a
case
worker
down
in
St.
George
–
that’s
what,
500,
 300
miles
away?
And
she’s
in
a
wheelchair
even.
Now,
come
on.
I
think
they
can
do
 better
than
that.
Give
us
somebody
local.)
 44:50
 I
don’t
pay
them,
I
just
turn
around
and
mail
it
right
to
my
attorney.
 Are
you
getting
workers’
comp
too?
 Yep.
 Is
that
in
danger
of
being
cut
off?
 Yeah,
that’s
what
this
doctor’s
all
about.
[coming
up
in
two
weeks]
Two
pills
alone
is
 $1,000.
My
wife
just
picked
up
a
couple
of
mine,
and
between
them
was
$400.
So
I’ve
 got
about
$2,000
worth
of
medicine
I’ve
got
to
take
every
month
for
the
rest
of
my
 life.
 Are
those
painkillers?
 Seizures.
 (Dilantin
and
Capra
are
seizure
pills.
And
he’s
on
a
high
dose.)
 46:00
 The
money
problems
now
are
mainly
the
workers’
comp?
 (Well,
there’s
no
way
we
could
afford
his
medicine
without
AIG.)
 We
couldn’t
afford
it,
I’d
be
dead
by
now
probably.
But
you
know,
workman’s
comp,
 they’ve
 paid
 me
 up
 til
 now,
 and
 now
 they
 want
 another
 opinion
 from
 another
 doctor.
 I’m
 afraid
 it’s
 gonna
 be
 like
 with
 Dave,
 where
 he
 went
 and
 saw
 the
 doctor
 and
he
said,
he
can
go
back
to
work
nad
he
can’t.
I’m
afraid
they’re
gonna
say
that
 about
me,
and
thre’s
no
way
I
can
go
back
to
work.





114


46:46
 (It
all
depends
on
their
definition
of
what
work
it.
He
could
probably
pot
plants
or
 something,
but
he
could
not
support
himself,
nor
could
he
be
reliable
because
of
his
 medical
 condition.
 Not
 only
 does
 he
 have
 some
 physical
 deficits,
 but
 most
 of
 his
 deficits
are
mental.
So
the
combination
of
it,
I
don’t
see
who
would
really
hire
him
if
 they
knew
the
full
scope
of
his
disability.
Yeah,
he
could
string
beads,
he
could
pot
 plants,
he
could
weave
potholders,
but
he
couldn’t
support
himself.)
 48:13
 All
the
things
you
studied
in
business,
do
you
feel
like
it’s
still
there
somewhere?
 (That’s
 part
 of
 his
 mental
 problems,
 he
 has
 short
 term
 memory
 loss,
 like
 a
 lot
 of
 other
brain
injury
people.
So
it’s
the
loss
of
short‐term
memory.
You
could
tell
him
 something
and
then
half
an
hour
later
he’ll
forget.)
 50:00
 (He’s
kind
of
–
I
won’t
say
accident‐prone
–
but
he
doesn’t
have
some
of
the
common
 sense
 that
 some
 other
 people
 will
 have.
 He
 makes
 a
 lot
 of
 mistakes
 thinking
 he’s
 doing
the
right
thing.)
 What
do
you
do
during
the
day
for
the
most
part?
 Sit
right
here.
Water
the
lawn.

 52:20
 What
was
the
reason
you
went
over
to
Iraq
in
the
first
place?
 The
money.
 Can
you
think
of
when
you
heard
about
KBR
over
there.
 That
was
probably
June
or
July
of
’04.
They
hired
me
in
November
of
’04.
I
got
blew
 up
in
November
of
’05.

 Were
you
on
your
first
contract
still?
 Yeah.
But
I
was
going
to
go
into
operations.
They
were
going
to
move
me
back
into
 the
office,
and
I
had
to
make
this
one
last
stupid‐ass
trip
before
they’d
move
me.
 54:20
 This
 one’s
 gonna
 blow
 you
 away
 to
 show
 them
 what
 kind
 of
 assholes
 they
 are.
 I
 went
 in
 for
 an
 interview,
 and
 two
 of
 the
guys,
 they
 both
were
supervisors,
 when
I
 was
 getting
 interviewed,
 they
 went
 to
 sleep.
 They
 were
 sleeping
 when
 I
 was





115


interviewing
for
a
management
position.
Then
they
turned
around
and
gave
it
to
a
 black
guy
who
never
even
went
into
the
interview.
 He
had
my
resume
right
there,
showing
I
had
almost
my
master’s.
 57:00
 So
were
you
trucking
right
before
you
went
to
Iraq?
 No,
 I
 was
 in
 an
 operations
 manager.
 Weyerhauser.
 But
 I
 wanted
 to
 pay
 this
 house
 off,
 get
 a
 smaller
 job
 so
 I
 could
 be
 home
 more.
 Being
 an
 operations
 manager
 for
 Weyehauser
 was
 very
 stressful.
 I
 just
 took
 it
 too
 serious.
 I
 was
 a
 trainer
 for
 CR
 England
for
a
while.
That’s
right,
that’s
right.
I
was
trining
students
to
be
truckers,
 and
that’s
what
I
was
doing
when
I
went
to
Iraq.
 58:08
 What
kind
of
stuff
would
you
do
for
fun
before
you
went
to
Iraq?
 Fish
and
hunt.

 (We
have
a
big
boat,
we
have
a
30‐foot
trailer.
That’s
stuff
we
really
can’t
use
right
 now.
I
have
to
give
my
brother
–
if
that’s
what
he
wants
to
do.
Past
couple
years,
we
 haven’t
gotten
out
and
done
anything.
It’s
very
depressing.)
 59:00
 Do
you
have
anything
coming
up
you’re
looking
forward
to?
 Well
no,
for
now
I’m
pretty
much
stuck
right
here.
 (they
say
if
he
can
go
six
months
without
a
seizure
they’ll
probably
give
his
license
 back,
let
him
drive.
That
hasn’t
happened
yet.)
 1:02:00
 We
 even
 tried
 to
 get
 a
 senator
 to
 try
 and
 get
 em
 for
 us
 (medical
 records
 from
 Grmany)
–
senator
Orrin
Hatch.
 (We
told
him
the
problem
nad
he
wouldn’t
touch
it.)
 His
relations
live
just
up
the
street
there
a
little
bit.
 (Part
of
the
request
from
Orrin
Hatch
was
that
we
would
like
from
President
Bush
 thanking
 him
 for
 doing
 his
 duty
 in
 Iraq.
 Clyde’s
 even
 a
 Vietnam
 Veteran.
 After
 he
 come
back
home,
he
became
a
green
beret
in
the
guard.
So
he’s
had
all
this
military,
 and
since
he
was
in
Iraq
under
bush,
we’d
say
gee
it
would
be
nice
if
you
could
send
 a
letter.)





116


1:04:00
 What
about
a
Defense
of
Freedom
medal
–
oyu
ever
hear
anything
about
that?
 My
attorney
said
that
I
was
gonna
get
one,
but
I
never
heard
nothing
about
it
yet.
 Gary
Pitts?
 Yeah.
I
never
received
one
yet,
never
got
a
call.
It’s
been
a
year.
 (I’m
 fed
 up,
 I
 just
 give
 up.
 But
 the
 records
 in
 Landstuhl
 would
 answer
 a
 lot
 of
 unanswered
questions.

And
I
don’t
see
why
the
government
wouldn’t
release
them,
 they’re
just
records
from
the
hospital.

 1:14:00
 I
don’t
know
if
it
happened
in
Iraq
or
if
it
was
in
Germany,
where
they
took
my
brain
 out.
They
won’t
say
nothing.
 (Another
thing
that
was
fishy,
I
kept
requesting
from
the
neurosurgeons
themselves,
 would
somebody
just
take
a
brain
model
and
show
me
where
he
has
his
deficits,
or
 where
things
are
missing.
And
nobody
would
ever
do
it.
)
 ClydeNipper3
 This
must
be
so
hard
on
your
marriage
too.
 (I
tell
people
that
I
have
part
man
and
part
12‐uyear‐old.
It’s
I’m
sure
it
doesn’t
do
a
 whole
lot
for
his
ego.
)
 She
has
a
lot
of
–
I
odn’t
know
what
oyu
want
ot
call
it,
to
stay
with
me
and
deal
with
 this.
There’s
gto
to
be
a
whole
lot
of
love
there
somewhere.
 1:34
 I
was
aninfsntryman
in
Vietnam,
and
special
forces
out
of
there.
I
had
a
lot
of
pride.
 And
now
look.
 (And
he’s
got
post‐traumatic
stress.
If
anybody
needs
it,
it
would
be
him.
We
sent
in
 the
papers,
but
they
wrote
back
saying
it
was
denied
because
he
the
PTSD
came
just
 from
Vietnam.)
 If
it
was
Vietnam
they
would’ve
covered
it,
but
it
was
Iraq,
and
I
was
a
contractor
in
 Iraq.
 4:50





117


We
have
a
daughter
and
a
grandson.
I
have
our
oldest
daughtr
liver
up
in
Salt
Lake,
 and
 my
 oldest
 son
 lives
 in
 Salyt
 lake,
 and
 another
 son
 in
 Idaho.
 And
 none
 of
 them
 help
 us.
 My
 daughter
 comes
 by.
 My
 grandons,
 he
 lived
 with
 us,
 my
 youngest
 daughter
comes
by.
 What
were
their
reactions
like
to
your
injury?
 They
didn’t
give
a
shit.
To
be
very
truthful
to
my
opinion,
that’s
how
I
got
it.
 (The
younger
kids
did.
But
the
older
kids,
they
weren’t
that
close
with
their
dad.)
 The
tattoos
you’ve
got…
 Those
are
from
when
I
was
younger.
That
Army
star
on
my
back
though
–
a
bunch
of
 us
all
got
together
in
Houston
and
we
all
got
the
same
tattoo
back
here
on
the
back.
 There
was
a
bunch
of
us.
 A
lot
of
them
got
out
of
the
army
ot
go
to
work
for
KBR.

 7:20
 [scar
on
the
angel
wing]
 I
don’t
know
if
I
got
hit
there
with
shrapnel,
or
if
they
cut
me
and
opened
it
up.
 (A
 Landstuhl
 Germany
 nurse
 told
 me
 they
 had
 to
 do
 that.
 He
 came
 here
 with
 it
 –
 tube
in
the
lung)
 9:00
 I
got
those
shrapnel
pieces
–
my
son’s
got
them.
 
You
gave
them
to
him?
 No,
he
took
them.
They
probably
just
want
them
for
memories
or
something,
I
don’t
 know.
 How
old
are
you?
 I
was
born
in
’49.
November
6,
49.
 Yeah,
you’re
left‐handed
and
so
am
I.
 (if
there
was
any
luck
at
all
on
what
side
of
the
head
he
was
gonna
get
injured
on,
it’s
 that
side
–
he
is
left‐handed,
so
the
main
side
is
his
right
side.
He
was
spared
that.(
 What
about
the
guy
in
the
truck
with
you?
 He
hurt
his
shoulder,
but
he’s
still
working
there.





118


12:08
 St.
Mark’s
is
the
first
thing
I
remember
after
waking
up.
I
couldn’t
talk,
so
I
wrote
th
 nurse
to
my
wife,
cause
she
was
sitting
beside
me
 (the
time
period
that
lapsed
was
a
week
or
week
nad
a
half
until
he
got
here)
 everything
was
all
covered
up
except
one
eye.
That’s
the
first
time
I
found
out
I
only
 had
one
eye.

 (They
 didn’t
 know
 how
 bad
 his
 eye
 was
 injured.
 They
 were
 waiting
 to
 see
 if
 any
 vision
caem
back
in
that
eye.
And
it
just
slowly
died.
We
think
that
because
he
had
 that
eyeball
in
tact,
the
shrapnel
went
underneath
the
eyeball
nad
back
in.
I
didn’t
 see
 his
 other
 eye
 after
 they
 took
 it
 out.
 It
 looked
 whole,
 but
 it
 kept
 shrinking
 and
 shrinking.
And
that
‘s
when
they
took
it
out.)
 I
 was
 just
 lucky
 that
 shrapnel
 didn’t
 go
 into
 my
 brain,
 otherwise
 it
 would’ve
 been
 worse.
 15:30
 Art
and
I,
we
talk
quite
a
bit.
We
talk
aobut
our
own
little
problems,
because
we’ve
 all
experienced
pretty
much
the
same
thing,
so
it’s
kind
of
comforting.
There’s
some
 others
that
we
talk
to,
they
call.
I
have
to
write
them
down.
 (But
those
are
the
only
friends
he
has
now,
the
people
who’ve
been
injured.
Regular
 people
won’t
stay
close
to
him)
 17:00
 (People
have
a
strange
reaction
to
people
who
they
cared
about
and
they
became
a
 little
bit
disabled.
I
don’t
know
if
it’s
because
of
their
insecurity
about
themselves,
or
 they’re
 mourning
 the
 loss
 of
 ewhat
 they
 used
 to
 know,
 but
 they’re
 not
 the
 same
 anymore.
We
wihs
that
wasn’t
true,
but
that
its.
 19:10
 (the
only
way
I
let
him
go
was
he
kept
convincing
me
that,
well,
I’m
going
to
be
in
a
 compound
and
I’m
going
to
be
safe.
It’s
completely
fenced
off,
but
nobody
told
me
 he’d
be
going
outside
the
compound.
 20:20
 (When
he
came
home
on
a
leave,
I
didn’t
want
him
to
go
back.)
 21:21
 It
was
going
to
be
in
operations
–
making
sure
the
trucks
get
loaded,
stuff
like
that.
 Just
a
paperwork
job,
is
all
it
is.





119


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 i
Needham,
John
K.
“Defense
Contracting:
Progress
Made
in
Implementing
Defense


Base
Act
Requirements,
but
Complete
Information
on
Costs
is
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Accountability
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to
the
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May
15,
2008.
 ii
Needham,
2008.
 iii
Needham,
2008.
 iv
Carstens,
Roger
D.,
Michael
A.
Cohen
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Maria
Figuero
Kupcu.
“Changing
the
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 v
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 vi
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AUGMENTATION
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July
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For
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 viii
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 http://www.corpwatch.org/article.php?id=14173.
 ix
This
is
based
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the
personal
experience
of
people
interviewed
for
this
paper,
and
 their
recollections
of
their
co‐workers’
backgrounds.
 x
According
to
former
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Fred
Gaus.
 xi
According
to
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Robert
Rowe.
 xii
Schumacher,
Gerald,
A
Bloody
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America’s
War
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Contractors
and
the
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of
Iraq.
St.
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2006.
 xiii
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Henry
and
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U.S.
House
of
Representatives
Committee
on
 Oversight
and
Government
reform.
“Supplemental
Information
on
Defense
Base
Act
 Insurance
Costs.”
May
15,
2008.
 xiv
According
to
AIG
spokesman
Chris
Winans.
 xv
Coon,
Charlie.
“Army
phasing
in
new
program
to
screen
for
PTSD.”
Stars
and
 Stripes,
July
23,
2008,
Mideast
edition.
 xvi
Lees‐Haley
P.
R.,
English
L.T.,
&
Glenn
W.
J.
“A
Fake
Bad
Scale
on
the
MMPI‐2
for
 personal
injury
claimants,”
Psychological
Reports
68
(1991):
203‐210.
 xvii
Meewisse,
Marie‐Louise,
Johannes
B.
Reitsma,
Giel‐Jan
de
Vries,
P.R.
Berthold
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 Miranda
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British
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 387‐92.
 xviii
Baker,
Claudia
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 xx
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121


VITA
 
 C
Patrick
Michels
was
born
in
Bethesda,
Maryland,
on
November
9,
1982,
the
son
of
 Mark
Michels
and
Elizabeth
McMinn.
After
graduating
from
Saint
Ignatius
College
 Preparatory
in
San
Francisco,
in
2000,
he
entered
Northwestern
University’s
Medill
 School
of
Journalism
in
Evanston,
Illinois,
receiving
the
Bachelor
of
Science
in
 Journalism
in
2004.
After
two
years
teaching
middle
school
and
working
as
a
 communications
officer
in
the
Northwest
Arctic
Borough
School
District
in
 Kotzebue,
Alaska,
he
entered
the
Graduate
School
at
the
University
of
Texas
at
 Austin,
enrolling
in
the
photojournalism
program
in
the
School
of
Journalism.
 
 
 Permanent
Address:



1606
Graystone
Ln





Daly
City,
CA
94014












 
 
 This
report
was
typed
by
the
author.





122