ONE DEGREE

Dust Off co-pilot Bob Nevins celebrated with his pilot, Jerry Rogers. “We’ll get him to the 85th ED in forty-five minutes from when we first picked him up at the LZ.” They were both veteran pilots and had routinely been engaged by enemy fire. They had survived several crashes. Too many of the 326th Medical Battalion pilots and crew had died flying these same missions. Bob understood the concept of the Golden Hour timeline wherein beating the clock usually avoided the detrimental effects of blood loss shock. Barring any complications, Private Burrows’ survival was hopefully more likely than not.

Richard was more alert by the time his ride landed on the 85th Evacuation’s square olive drab (OD) perforated steel plate (PSP) helipad.

Its massive red cross within a large white square at its center broadcasted the inherent safety of the hospital. The Dust Off crew could now relax a bit.

On the ride in, Burrows had heard Warrant Officer Bob Nevins notify “Plasma Hotel,” the 85th Evac call sign, that he would deliver “one very messed up grunt.” Three numbers were often reported with multiple wounded aboard to define his precious cargo, allowing the 85th Evac ED to prepare. The first, KIA; the second, severely wounded; and the third, walking wounded.