USAF MSC Association

NEWSLETTER _____________________________________________________ APRIL2012 Officers and Key Contacts Col Joe Vocks Chairperson Col Debra Cavanaugh President Col Randy Borg Vice President Col Kevin O’Shea Secretary Col Al Obuchowski Treasurer Lt Col Sam Bowker Director Col Charlie Brown III Director Col Bob Hauser Director Col Denise Lew Director Col Tim Morgan Director Col Jim Pearce Director Maj Wayne G. Terry Newsletter Editor Capt Wm. M. Copeland General Counsel

FROM THE CHAIRMAN OF THE BOARD The busy Christmas seasons seems like it was just yesterday and yet Easter is just around the corner. I hope that you and your family will have a blessed Easter. In south Texas it’s time to plant gardens and spring flowers. I’m pleased to announce that your Board has selected to hold the 2013 reunion in St. Louis. Randy Borg and his committee are busy making all of the arrangements for our biennial reunion. Watch the website and the upcoming Newsletters for more details. Mark your calendars for the fall of 2013 to “Meet Me in St. Louis.” This Newsletter may be a little longer than usual; however, I believe it is important to share the special story of a young MSC. Captain Jordan Lindeke was awarded the Purple Heart for her injuries received in Afghanistan. Please remember in your prayers our deployed troops and their families. It is through their sacrifices, as well as so many before them, that we are able to enjoy the freedoms of this great country. Joe Vocks, Chairman of the USAF MSC Association Board of Directors. ________________________________________________________

PRESIDENT’S LETTER

Spring is so welcome after the winter so many of you had this year. It puts a little extra spring in your step and if you’re anything like me, I need all the spring I can get to shed some of those winter pounds that snuck up on me. In June 2011 the Air Force Medical Service had to reduce their number of annual awards. In order to prevent the loss of three awards named after past Corps Chiefs, the Association agreed to support the Air Force Medical Service by assuming sponsorship of the: Brigadier General Donald B. Wagner Administrative Excellence

award; Major General Michael K. Wyrick Commitment to Excellence award; and Brigadier General 1

Patricia C. Lewis Commitment to Service award. In addition, we continue to sponsor the annual MSC Association Commitment to Excellence (Retired) award. Colonel Perry R. Cooper was the winner of the 2011 Major General Michael K. Wyrick Commitment to Excellence award. As the Director of the Medical Service Corps and Chief of the Medical Personnel and Data Management Division at the Office of the Air Force Surgeon General, Colonel Cooper was recognized for his career-long leadership in support of the Air Force Medical Service, including having served as the first year-long MSC Commander of the Medical Group at Al Udeid Air Base, Qatar, home of the Air Force's largest Air Expeditionary Wing. Lieutenant Colonel Andrea C. Vinyard was presented the 2011 Brigadier General Patricia C. Lewis Commitment to Service award for her leadership, proven in-garrison and combat. Her career is replete with firsts, #1s and 'Best of.' Lieutenant Colonel Vinyard is currently assigned as the Medical Support Squadron Commander at Elmendorf AFB, Alaska Colonel (retired) Frank Rohrbough was the winner of the 2011 Medical Service Corps Association Commitment to Excellence (retired) award. He employed his expansive knowledge of the military health care system in representation of the interests of military personnel to the Congress as a Director with MOAA (1991-2004). He was a member of the first group of officers to establish the MSC Association and served as a board member for almost 12 years and in most officer positions. Brigadier General Michael Miller presented the winners their awards at the Medical Service Corps Annual Awards Dinner on 21 March 2012, at the Harold Washington Library in Chicago. Please join me in congratulating these outstanding leaders for their service and commitment, to healthcare, the Air Force and the Corps. Happy spring! Debra Cavanaugh, President of the USAF MSC Association Board of Directors _______________________________________________________________________________

HSA TEAM BUILDER AWARD AND NEWEST LIFETIME MEMBER Captain James White initially enlisted in the Missouri Air National Guard in 2003. In 2009, he was commissioned a 2d Lt in the Air Force Reserves with the 932d Aeromedical Staging Squadron at Scott AFB, Illinois, as an MSC, where he remains today. Captain White possesses a BS degree in Management with a focus in Computer Information Systems and an MBA with a major in International Business. James and his wife Angie have four children; Mackenzie, Kolten, Aspyn and Isabella. James works as an IT and Management Consultant in his civilian job. Captain White was selected the HSA Team Builder Award Winner for Class 12-B. Pictured l-r is Col Bob Hauser, USAF, MSC (Ret) and Captain James White. ______________________________________________________________

"I predict future happiness for Americans if they can prevent the government from wasting the labors of the people under the pretense of taking care of them." ~ Thomas Jefferson ~

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UPDATE RE FRED GRAVES INVOLVEMENT WITH THE MILITARY ORDER OF THE WORLD WARS (MOWW) Col Frederick J. (Fred) Graves, USAF, MSC (Ret), was elected as an emeritus member of the Military Order of the World Wars (MOWW), by the general staff, at the national convention in Bozeman, Montana, 23 July 2011. Throughout the years Fred has been recognized for his many contributions to the MOWW by being awarded several Certificates of Appreciation, the Silver Patrick Henry Medal in 2003 and the coveted Gold Patrick Henry Medal at the National Convention in August 2007. His leadership style encouraged others to similarly "think outside the box" and thus strengthen the Military Order of the World Wars organization. Congratulations Fred. You have been one mighty busy MOWW representative. Well Done! [Editor]. _____________________________________________________________________________

MSCs WIN AAMA AWARDS At the 2011 AAMA Annual Conference last November in Scottsdale, Arizona, three Air Force MSCs were honored. Colonel Adolphe Edward, Hickam AFB, Hawaii, won the Richard A. Harley Diplomate of the Year Award. This award honors a member for their contributions that exemplify leadership and excellence in furthering the Academy’s mission. Lt Col Mary Ann Garbowski, Vandenberg AFB, California, won the YC Parris Young Federal Healthcare Executive Award. This award recognizes outstanding contributions and achievements in federal healthcare management. Major Robert Bonds, USAF, MSC (Ret) of McAllen, Texas, won the Distinguished Service Award. This award honors a member who has provided outstanding service and significant support to the Academy and its Colleges. Both Colonel Edward and Lt Col Garbowski are members of the MSC Association. Foregoing furnished by Joe Vocks, Association Board Chairman. _____________________________________________________________________________

Because there were no reservations at a busy restaurant, An elderly gentleman and his wife were told there would be a 45-minute wait for a table. ‘Young man, we're both 90 years old, ' the husband said ...'We may not have 45 minutes.' They were seated immediately.

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RETIREE ASSISTANCE OFFICE (RAO) BULLETIN GREAT SOURCE OF INFORMATION Try as we might, I don’t think it is possible to top the information being provided monthly by a fellow military member in the Philippines. I have been reading Lt James (EMO) Tichacek’s Veterans’ Information Bulletins for years and have found them to be thorough, well thought out and extremely timely. If you are interested in subscribing, please take note of the following information provided by Lt Tichacek: _____________________________________ Lt James “EMO” Tichacek, USN (Ret) Associate Director Retiree Assistance Office, US Embassy Warden & IRS VITA Baguio City, RP PSC 517, Box RCB, FPO AP 96517 Tel: (951) 238-1246 in US or Cell: 0915-361-3403 in the Philippines. Email: [email protected]. Web: http://post_119_gulfport_ms.tripod.com/rao1.html AL/AMVETS/DAV/NAUS/NCOA/MOAA/USDR/VFW/VVA/CG33/DD890/AD37/TSLC MEMBER BULLETIN SUBSCRIPTION NOTES FROM EMO: In the event you do not receive future Bulletins by the 2 nd or 16th of the month, before sending an email inquiry, first check the website http://s11.zetaboards.com/CFLNewsChat/forum/27519/ under Pined topics. There you can open a PDF attachment of the last Bulletin sent that contains everything you would normally receive in the PDF email editions we send out. If you can’t locate it that may indicate that your server may have prevented you from receiving the Bulletin message sent because your system may have considered it to be SPAM – most likely because of its size. In that event, you will need to call your ISP and ask what you have to do to receive the Bulletin through their service. If unsuccessful, let EMO know for further guidance. ________________________________________ So you can elect to read Lt Tichacek’s excellent publications as you have time at the website above, or you can subscribe to his PDF email version by sending him an email note at [email protected] to include your full name, plus the city and state you reside in and your email address. Either way, it will be worth your time and effort. And by the way – if you ever visit the Philippines, stop by the VFW in Angeles City. Best breakfast available and a great place to meet new friends (last time I was there anyway – circa 1999). We have posted EMO’s links on our web site under LINKS at www.mscassociation.org. Jim Moreland, Col, USAF, MSC (Ret), [email protected]. 210-595-0090. _______________________________________________________________________________

FUND SOLICITATION CHAIRPERSON NEEDED Colonel Mac McClean, as many of you know, has been the official “beggar” for the Association since 2006. He began when he was the onsite coordinator for the San Antonio Reunion in 2007. He really wants to “pass the reins” for this job on to someone else. If you are interested in the position as Sponsorship Committee Chairperson please contact the Association Chairman, Joe Vocks, as soon as possible. Let Joe know that you would like to take on this important role that benefits the Association, and the active duty MSCs, as well. The new Chairperson would work with Mac the rest of this year for the 2013 functions and then be in charge for future solicitations. 4

THE WAL-MART GREETER Charley, a new retiree-greeter at Wal-Mart, just couldn't seem to get to work on time. Every day he was 5, 10, 15 minutes late. But he was a good worker, really tidy, clean-shaven, sharp-minded and a real credit to the company and obviously demonstrating their “Older Person Friendly” policies. One day the boss called him into the office for a talk. "Charley, I have to tell you, I like your work ethic, you do a bang-up job when you finally get here; but you’re being late so often is quite bothersome." "Yes, I know boss, and I am working on it." "Well good, you are a team player. That's what I like to hear. “Yes sir, I understand your concern and I’ll try harder. Seeming puzzled, the manager went on to comment, it’s odd though you’re coming in late. I know you're retired from the Armed Forces. What did they say to you there if you showed up in the morning so late and so often?" The old man looked down at the floor, and then smiled. He chuckled quietly, then said with a grin, "They usually Saluted and said, “Good morning General, can I get your coffee, sir?” _________________________________________________________________________________

SHOW HIM YOUR CARD A Texas Department of Water representative stopped at a ranch and talked with an old rancher. He told the rancher, 'I need to inspect your ranch for your water allocation.' The old rancher said, ‘Okay, but don’t go in that field over there.’ The Water representative said, 'Mister, I have the authority of the Federal Government with me. See this card? This card means I am allowed to go WHEREVER I WISH on any agricultural land. No questions asked or answered. Have I made myself clear? Do you understand?' The old rancher nodded politely and went about his chores. Later, the old rancher heard loud screams and saw the Water Rep running for the fence and close behind was the rancher's bull. The bull was gaining on the Water Rep with every step. The Rep was clearly terrified, so the old rancher immediately ran to the fence and shouted out..... ‘Your card! Show him your card!' ______________________________________________________________________________

Men who have offered their lives for their country know that patriotism Is not the fear of something; It is the love of something. Adlai Stevenson – 1952 speech to American Legion

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A MAN NAMED TIMOTHY A Great Story Recently I read about a lady named Pam, who knows the pain of considering abortion. More than twenty four years ago, she and her husband, Bob, were serving as missionaries to the Philippines and praying for a fifth child. Pam contracted amoebic dysentery, an infection of the intestine caused by a parasite found in contaminated food or drink. She went into a coma and was treated with strong antibiotics before they discovered she was pregnant. Doctors urged her to abort the baby for her own safety and told her that the medicines had caused irreversible damage to her baby. She refused the abortion and cited her Christian faith for her hope that her son would be born without the devastating disabilities the physicians predicted. Pam said the doctors didn`t think of her baby as a life, they thought of it as a mass of fetal tissue. While pregnant, Pam nearly lost their baby four times but refused to consider an abortion. She recalled making a pledge to God with her husband: if you will give us a son, we`ll name him Timothy and we’ll make him a preacher. Pam ultimately spent the last two months of her pregnancy in bed and eventually gave birth to a healthy baby boy on 14 August 1987. Pam`s youngest son, Timothy, is indeed a preacher. He preaches in prisons, makes hospital visits and serves with his father’s ministry in the Philippines. He also plays football. Pam’s son is Tim Tebow. Source confirmed by Bing Web and Wikipedia. _________________________________________________________________________________

TRICARE OUT, NEW DEFENSE HEALTH AGENCY IN DEFENSE IT: WHAT'S BREWIN By veteran reporter Bob Brewin │03/02/12 04:47PM ET The Defense Department sent a report to Congress today detailing how the Pentagon plans to integrate health care operations. The plan falls short of 2006 recommendations by the Defense Business Board to eliminate Army, Navy and Air Force medical commands and establish a unified medical command. Deputy Secretary of Defense Ashton Carter said in today's report that the Pentagon plans to do away with the TRICARE Management Activity – which, among other things, oversees the military health insurance plan – and fold its functions into a new Defense Health Agency. That agency will assume responsibility for common clinical and business processes across the Military Health System, such as medical education for physicians, nurses, medics, pharmacists, medical logistics and health information technology. The new Defense Health Agency will be run by a three-star general or admiral – the same rank as the three services' surgeons general and a twograde bump from the one-star rank of the current TRICARE director, Army Brig. Gen. Bryan Gamble.

The report is silent on whether or not the new Defense Health Agency will have a chief information officer -a key post, since it will have oversight of an IT budget I peg at well over a billion dollars a year.

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CIVIL WAR PENSIONS Despite the fact that the Civil War ended 9 April 1865, the government is still paying out Civil War veterans' pensions. Records from the Department of Veterans' Affairs show that two children of Civil War veterans, as of September 2011, are receiving pensions from their fathers' service. Department of Veteran Affairs spokesman Phil Budahn says the VA last checked in on the benefits recipients in the fall of 2011. Both were still alive, but in poor health. Budahn says it's likely that the children of the Civil War veterans, who have wished to remain anonymous, both had illnesses that prevented them from ever becoming selfsufficient. Trevor Plante, a reference chief at the National Archives says it's also possible that the beneficiaries were young when their fathers died and had no living mothers to care for them, which would also qualify them for their fathers' pensions. Plante says unlike current times, where pensions are granted to dependents based on military service numbers or social security numbers, in the late 19th century, people had to prove their connection to a deceased veteran by sending the government evidence of their relationship. Children, parents and spouses submitted photographs, love letters, marriage certificates, diaries and gifts to prove they were eligible for pensions. "Genealogists love pension files because you never know what you are going to find. Civil War pensions are especially fascinating because of the wide array of things people submitted as evidence." In the 19th and early 20th centuries, only Union soldiers were eligible for military benefits. It wasn't until the 1930s that Confederate soldiers began receiving pensions from the federal government. Prior to that, Confederate soldiers could apply for benefits through the state they resided in. The last verified Civil War veteran, Albert Woolson, died in 1956 at age 109. The last Civil War veteran widow, Gertrude Janeway, died in 2003 at age 93. [Source: U.S. News & World Report of 10 Feb 2001, authored by Lauren Fox.] _______________________________________________________________________________

CURRENT INFORMATION REGARDING DD FORM 214s It’s now official: DD Form 214 discharge papers are NOW ON LINE. The National Personnel Records Center (NPRC) has provided the following website for veterans to gain access to their personal DD Form 214s on line. http://www.archives.gov/veterans/military-service records/ This may be particularly helpful when a veteran needs a copy of his/her DD form-214 for employment purposes. NPRC is working to make it easier for veterans with computers and Internet access to obtain copies of documents from their military files. Military veterans and the next of kin of deceased former military members may now use a new online personnel records system to request documents. Other individuals with a need for documents must still complete the Standard Form 180, which can be downloaded from the online web site. Because the requester will be asked to supply all information essential for NPRC to process the request, delays that normally occur when NPRCA has to ask veterans 7

for additional information will be minimized. The new web-based application was designed to provide better service on these requests by eliminating the records centers mailroom and processing time. Please pass this information on to former military personnel you know and their dependents. Above received from Charlie Brown, current AF MSCA Board Member & Sid Brandler, MSCA Member ________________________________________________________________________________

NORTHERN CALIFORNIA MSC EVENT During the USAF MSC Association Biennial Meeting and Reunion held in Scottsdale in October 2011, Gene Lakey, Fred Huberty and Chris Renn – all living in the Northern California area – mused that it would be fun to organize an informal gathering of MSCs somewhere in the Sacramento area for those [Air Force] MSCs living in that region sometime after the first of the year. Using the Association roster and other sources of data, they took the initiative and contacted all such folks who were findable locally and arranged a dinner party for Saturday, 28 January 2012, at a local restaurant. Attendees included lots of retired MSCs, their guests, a few Reserve officers and several active duty Air Force MSCs from David Grant USAF Med Center (DGMC) at Travis AFB in nearby Fairfield, California. After an all-too-brief cocktail hour, the 36 attendees had dinner which was followed by a program of recollections from those who had been stationed at DGMC before and after the “New Generation Military Hospital (NGMH”) was opened in 1988. Current DGMC Administrator, Col Doreen Wilder, presented an excellent PowerPoint briefing on what has been ongoing of late at David Grant which she called the new Air Force Medical Service Flagship Facility! Concluding the event at about 2130, we collectively agreed to do this again and to be on the lookout for others who might not be carried on rosters, etc., but are in the area and would like to be participants. Col Wilder volunteered to host such an event in the future in the Fairfield area. Fred and Chris credit Gene Lakey with doing the heavy lifting in putting everything together. Thanks to all three for generating the idea. You can see photos of the attendees on our Association website at www.mscassociation.org. From there, click on the left side menu item – Northern California MSC Event. Just scroll past the article to the photos. From there, you can click on each photo to enlarge it. Right click on the enlarged version and click on Save Photo to save the photo and to see the names of those in each picture. Article furnished by Ken Mackie, Col, USAF MSC (Ret), Association Member ______________________________________________________________________________

The willingness with which our young people are likely to serve in any war, no matter how justified, shall be directly proportional as to how they perceive the Veterans of earlier wars were treated and appreciated by their Nation." ~ George Washington ~

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UNDER GOD SEMPER FI ~ THE LAST SIX SECONDS On 13 Nov 2010, Lt General John Kelly, USMC, gave a speech to the Semper Fi Society of St. Louis, Missouri. This was four days after his son, Lt Robert Kelly, USMC, was killed by an IED while on his 3rd Combat tour. During his speech, General Kelly spoke about the dedication and valor of our young men and women who step forward each and every day to protect us. During the speech, he never mentioned the loss of his own son. He closed the speech with the moving account of the last six seconds in the lives of two young Marines who died with rifles blazing to protect their brother Marines. "I will leave you with a story about the kind of people they are, about the quality of the steel in their backs, about the kind of dedication they bring to our country while they serve in uniform and forever after as veterans. Two years ago when I was the Commander of all U.S. and Iraqi forces, in fact, the 22nd of April 2008, two Marine infantry battalions, 1/9 "The Walking Dead," and 2/8 were switching out in Ramadi. One battalion was in the closing days of their deployment and going home very soon, the other just starting its seven-month combat tour. Two Marines, Corporal Jonathan Yale and Lance Corporal Jordan Haerter, 22 and 20 years old respectively, one from each battalion, were assuming the watch together at the entrance gate of an outpost that contained a makeshift barracks housing 50 Marines. The same broken down ramshackle building was also home to 100 Iraqi police, also my men and our allies in the fight against the terrorists in Ramadi, a City until recently the most dangerous city on earth and owned by Al Qaeda. Yale was a dirt poor mixed-race kid from Virginia with a wife and daughter, and a mother and sister who lived with him and whom he supported as well. He did this on a yearly salary of less than $23,000. Haerter, on the other hand, was a middle class white kid from Long Island. They were from two completely different worlds. Had they not joined the Marines they would never have met each other, or understood that multiple America’s exist simultaneously depending on one's race, education level, economic status, and where you might have been born. But they were Marines, combat Marines, forged in the same crucible of Marine training, and because of this bond they were brothers as close, or closer, than if they were born of the same woman. The mission orders they received from the sergeant squad leader I am sure went something like, "Okay you two clowns, stand this post and let no unauthorized personnel or vehicles pass. You clear?" I am also sure Yale and Haerter then rolled their eyes and said in unison something like, "Yes Sergeant," with just enough attitude that made the point without saying the words, "No kidding 'sweetheart', we know what we're doing." They then relieved two other Marines on watch and took up their post at the entry control point of Joint Security Station Nasser, in the Sophia section of Ramadi, Al Anbar, Iraq. A few minutes later a large blue truck turned down the alley way - perhaps 60-70 yards in length, and sped its way through the serpentine of concrete jersey walls. The truck stopped just short of where the two were posted and detonated, killing them both catastrophically. Twenty-four brick masonry houses were damaged or destroyed. A mosque 100 yards away collapsed. The truck's engine came to rest two hundred yards away knocking most of a house down before it stopped. Our explosive experts reckoned the blast was made of 2,000 pounds of explosives. Two died, and because these two young infantrymen didn't have it in their DNA to run from danger, they saved 150 of their Iraqi and American brothers-in-arms.

When I read the situation report about the incident a few hours after it happened I called the regimental commander for details as something about this struck me as different. Marines dying or being seriously wounded

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is commonplace in combat. We expect Marines regardless of rank or MOS to stand their ground and do their duty, and even die in the process, if that is what the mission takes. But this just seemed different. The regimental commander had just returned from the site and he agreed, but reported that there were no American witnesses to the event - just Iraqi police. I figured if there was any chance of finding out what actually happened and then to decorate the two Marines to acknowledge their bravery, I'd have to do it as a combat award that requires two eye-witnesses and we figured the bureaucrats back in Washington would never buy Iraqi statements. If it had any chance at all, it had to come under the signature of a general officer. I traveled to Ramadi the next day and spoke individually to a half-dozen Iraqi police all of whom told the same story. The blue truck turned down into the alley and immediately sped up as it made its way through the serpentine. They all said, "We knew immediately what was going on as soon as the two Marines began firing." The Iraqi police then related that some of them also fired, and then to a man, ran for safety just prior to the explosion. All survived. Many were injured, some seriously. One of the Iraqis elaborated and with tears welling up said, "They'd run like any normal man would to save his life." "What he didn't know until then," he said, "And what he learned that very instant, was that Marines are not normal." Choking past the emotion he said, "Sir, in the name of God no sane man would have stood there and done what they did." "No sane man." "They saved us all." What we didn't know at the time, and only learned a couple of days later after I wrote a summary and submitted both Yale and Haerter for posthumous Navy Crosses, was that one of our security cameras, damaged initially in the blast, recorded some of the suicide attack. It happened exactly as the Iraqis had described it. It took exactly six seconds from when the truck entered the alley until it detonated. You can watch the last six seconds of their young lives. Putting myself in their heads I supposed it took about a second for the two Marines to separately come to the same conclusion about what was going on once the truck came into their view at the far end of the alley. Exactly no time to talk it over, or call the sergeant to ask what they should do. Only enough time to take half an instant and think about what the sergeant told them to do only a few minutes before, "Let no unauthorized personnel or vehicles pass." The Two Marines had about five seconds left to live. It took maybe another two seconds for them to present their weapons, take aim, and open up. By this time the truck was half-way through the barriers and gaining speed the whole time. Here, the recording shows a number of Iraqi police, some of whom had fired their AKs, now scattering like the normal and rational men they were – some running right past the Marines. They had three seconds left to live. For about two seconds more, the recording shows the Marines' weapons firing non-stop with the truck's windshield exploding into shards of glass as their rounds take it apart and tore in to the body of the ( I deleted) who is trying to get past them to kill their brothers – American and Iraqi-bedded down in the barracks totally unaware of the fact that their lives at that moment depended entirely on two Marines standing their ground. If they had been aware, they would have known they were safe because two Marines stood between them and a crazed suicide bomber. The recording shows the truck careening to a stop immediately in front of the two Marines. In all of the instantaneous violence, Yale and Haerter never hesitated. By all reports and by the recording, they never stepped back. They never even started to step aside. They never even shifted their weight. With their feet spread shoulder width apart, they leaned into the danger, firing as fast as they could work their weapons. They had only one second left to live. The truck explodes. The camera goes blank. Two young men go to their God. Six seconds. Not enough time to think about their families, their country, their flag, or about their lives or their deaths, but more than enough time

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for two very brave young men to do their duty into eternity. That is the kind of people who are on watch all over the world tonight – for you. We Marines believe that God gave America the greatest gift he could bestow to man while he lived on this earth – freedom. We also believe he gave us another gift nearly as precious – our soldiers, sailors, airmen, Coast Guardsmen, and Marines – to safeguard that gift and guarantee no force on this earth can ever steal it away! It has been my distinct honor to have been with you here today. Rest assured our America, this experiment in democracy started over two centuries ago, will forever remain the "land of the free and home of the brave" so long as we never run out of tough young Americans who are willing to look beyond their own self-interest and comfortable lives, and go into the darkest and most dangerous places on earth to hunt down, and kill, those who would do us harm. Semper Fi, God Bless America and God Bless the United States Marine Corps. Often Tested. Always Faithful. Brothers Forever. Furnished by William M. Copeland, Captain, USAF, MSC (Ret), Association General Counsel _______________________________________________________________________________

SOUNDING TAPS Major *Colonel *Lt Col *Lt Col Lt Col *Lt Col Major *Colonel CMS Lt Col CMS *Lt Col *Colonel Lt Col

Robert V. Aaron Louis F. Duquette Arch C. Elliott Joseph Fleischman Edward Grady Clifford C. Hunter Leonard J. Jackson John R. Kelley Donald Miller (Honorary MSC) Clinton R. Park Raymond Smith (Honorary MSC) Adolph H. (Rick) Swimmer Lawrence L. (Jack) Turnipseed Versie L. Wilson

*Denotes Life Member Status

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18 Nov 2011 3 Dec 2011 9 Jan 2012 25 Sep 2011 Unknown 3 Oct 2005 19 Nov 2010 4 Aug 1997 28 Aug 2010 25 Jan 2012 17 Aug 2010 6 Dec 2011 13 Dec 2011 18 Apr 2004

IN MEMORIAM Received notification from Steve Goodyear, son of Lt Col David Goodyear (deceased) and Ruth Goodyear that his mother Ruth had passed away on 6 January 2010. He wanted to share the information relating to his mother’s passing, stating that “...she really loved the military life.” Received notification from Colonel James I. Morton, USAF, MSC (Ret), that his wife Beverly Jean Morton passed away on 3 December 2011 at the Lakeland Healthcare Medical Center, Saint Joseph, Michigan. Beverly was buried in her home town of Berrien Springs, Michigan. And, Beverly made a specific request that at her funeral the song The Last Dance by Garth Brooks be played. The funeral took place on 12 December 2011. Lt Col Arch C. Elliott, Life Member of the Association, passed away this past January 2012 at the age of 100 years, 8 months and 27 days. In the April 2011 Association Newsletter we ran a special article on Lt Col Elliott wherein he was recognized as the only centenarian member in the Association. His daughter, Patricia Meyer, “…explained the pride her father took [in being recognized] as the oldest member of the Association.” Received notification from Lt Colonel Kent Fescenmeyer, USAF, MSC (Ret) that Lt Colonel Philip L. Ford, USAF, MSC (Ret), called to advise him that his wife Marjel Ford passed away on 19 March 2012 from complications of coronary obstructive pulmonary disease. Lt Colonel Ford wanted to share this information with the members of the Association.

ADDENDUM Kevin O’Shea (MSC Association Secretary) while clearing up some internal documents learned that the following MSC spouses passed away during the past ten years, but were not recorded as passing. So, belatedly we honor the passing of these ladies – who each in their own ways were the ones that were always there to support their husbands during their respective careers. Mrs. Dorothy M. Dillehay spouse of Lt Col Joseph R. Dillehay (Dec) 20 Aug 2008 Mrs. Marian Hannah spouse of Col Ernest A. Hannah (Dec) 12 Jul 2010 Mrs. Harriett Holland spouse of Lt Col James H. Holland (Dec) 8 Sep 2009 Mrs. Betty Laird spouse of Capt Raymond C. Laird (Dec) 21 May 2005 Mrs. Adeline Martindale spouse of Col Robert W. Martindale (Dec) 3 Jun 2002 Mrs. Betty Streeper spouse of Maj Thomas W. Streeper Sr. (Dec 20 Sep 2011 Mrs. Marie Whittingham spouse of Alan Whittingham (Dec) 21 Feb 2004 ______________________________________________________________________________

A BAND OF BROTHERS Brother, life is too short to wake up with regrets. So love the people who treat you right. Forgive the ones who don't, just because you can. Believe everything happens for a reason. If you get a second chance, grab it with both hands – those of you who served in Viet Nam know this. If it changes your life, let it. Take a few minutes to think before you act when you're mad. Forgive quickly. God never said life would be easy. He just promised it would be worth it. To the cool men that have touched my life, here’s to you!! I was never a hero, but I am thankful I served among them. Furnished by Barry Morrison, Col (Ret), USAF, MSC and MSC Association Member.

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COLONEL ED NUGENT’S FINAL RESTING PLACE ARLINGTON NATIONAL CEMETARY It was a cold wind-swept Friday 16 December 2011 morning scene at Arlington National Cemetery with The Pentagon in the background. In the distance were four huge horses pulling the caisson to the burial site of the now departed Colonel Edward S. Nugent to his final resting place. Preceding the horse-drawn caisson were the colors, the band, and approximately 30 airmen marching. At the burial site an Air Force Colonel Chaplain presented a magnificent grave-side message on the life of Colonel Edward S. Nugent, followed by the three gun salute and the mournful sounding of Taps. It was, indeed, a moving and solemn event – which none of us who were there will ever forget. The entire procession was done with such dignity, compassion and honor. I think Ed was pleased. And, I am pleased to report that four retired Air Force Medical Service Corps Association members were there to see that their comrade in arms was properly represented. Present were Colonel David Burke, Major Dan Lee, Neil O’Reilly, Major Wayne Terry and his wife Barbara Bromwell Terry. We four retired MSCs stood together to informally represent the Air Force Medical Service Corps Association. The Air Force Chaplain mentioned our presence as he presented the flag to Ed’s family. Furnished by Wayne Terry, Editor of the Association Newsletter. _________________________________________________________________________________

Do Not Stand At My Grave Do not stand at my grave and weep, I am not there, I do not sleep. I am in a thousand winds that blow, I am the softly falling snow, I am the gentle showers of rain, I am the fields of ripening grain, I am the morning hush, I am the graceful rush Of birds in circling flight, I am the star shine of the night. I am in the flowers that bloom, I am in a quiet room, I am the birds that sing, I am in each lovely thing. Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there, I did not die. Mary Frye’s famous Inspirational poem, Prayer and bereavement Verse. She has been Attributed to be the Author of the earliest Version which she wrote in 1932. _______________________________________________________________________________

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AN INCIDENT IN AFGHANISTAN Many months ago, when I was still your Chairman, I encouraged Captain Jordan Lindeke to share her experiences with us for publication in both our newsletter and for our MSC History. I never expected what she delivered. The story we are publishing here, could be, and probably should be, a television special or even a major motion picture. She has literally bared her soul and shared a story that should help us all better appreciate what our troops are experiencing today, and what Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI) can do to otherwise healthy troops. We are blessed and privileged to have a first-hand account from an active duty, Purple Heart recipient MSC, about her deployment, how it resulted in her injuries, and what happened after she was injured. There isn’t a single thing about her story that is self-serving, and as you will read, she shares with us the most personal and intimate feelings she experienced. To be clear, Captain Lindeke experienced significant Traumatic Brain Injuries (TBI). While she is recovering, along with her Air Force pharmacist Battle Buddy, please keep them both in your thoughts and prayers. These injuries require more healing than any of us can truly understand, but we can all participate in their healing with our thoughts and prayers focused on their recovery. Furnished by our former Chairman of the MSC Association, Jim Moreland, Col, USAF, MSC (Ret). The following is a story of “An Incident in Afghanistan” as rendered by Jordan Lindeke, Capt, USAF, MSC. CAPTAIN JORDAN LINDEKE’S STORY Never in a million years would I have thought this would be my story. When I joined the Air Force in 2005, all I wanted was to deploy and contribute to the bigger mission. In 2006, after much clamoring on my part, I went to the 332 Expeditionary Medical Group on Balad AB, Iraq, as the Group Executive Officer. Deployment solidified my desire to serve in the Air Force and I began asking for another deployment as soon as I returned to the 59th Medical Wing, Lackland AFB, Texas. Over the next few years, I wasn’t deployable because of mission requirements or personal matters. I kept busy until it was my time to deploy again. I PCS’d to Robins AFB, Georgia, on a humanitarian reassignment to be with my mom during a terminal illness. Our agreement was I could pursue deployment once she had passed. By August 2009, I’d started to ask for a deployment and, luckily, my band was approaching the following summer. In March 2010, my squadron commander, Lieutenant Colonel Bragg, came to my office to let me know I’d be deploying. I had two months until I left for Combat Skills Training (CST) in Fort Polk, Louisiana, and went to Afghanistan in August. This was better than the deployment I’d hoped for and I started to prepare immediately. Eight weeks seems like a while, but it flies by between working and doing everything else you need to keep your head above water. I said good bye to Robins AFB in May 2010 and settled into life at CST. We were in class six days a week, with physical training (PT) five mornings a week. The first week we had no PT because we were in-processing. My roommates were an AF nurse and a Navy lab technician. The AF nurse and I walked to in-processing the first day through the rest of CST participating in morning PT. They were doing a formation run and their Army instructors weren’t happy with their performance, so they were beating the hoods of nearby cars screaming obscenities to inspire the class to move faster. All I could think was how crazy I was to want to come here. My battalion was arguably one of the best, after hearing stories from the other AF people at CST, and our Army cadre looked out for us, giving us tips when we thought we knew what we were doing. The classes followed a

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simple crawl, walk, run framework. At times, it was frustrating because you were doing everything three times, but their methodology worked and things were drilled into our heads. As a Medical Service Corps officer, certain skill sets were not something I considered important because I didn’t have the basic knowledge to build on. For example, repairing damaged hoses, pipes, and various parts on a HMMWV was way over my head because I can barely pop the hood on my own car. However, the rest of my training gave me a greater understanding for what I was getting myself into in Afghanistan. We operated weapons I didn’t know existed or ever wanted to handle, like the 50 cal, SAW 249, 240, M203 grenade launcher. After we completed the weapons training, I was more comfortable with my weapons than I ever imagined I would be. During my prior deployment, I didn’t even want to touch my weapons because I wasn’t sure of what I was doing. The Army made sure we all were capable of handling our weapons in any situation, even having intentional misfire practice rounds, so you had to run their drills to fix them. For those nine weeks, I received some of the best training of my life. Our cadre led us through culture indoctrination, reflexive fire, dismounted and security patrols, improvised explosive device (IED) familiarization and patrol, POW and Code of Conduct training, 40 hours each of Dari language classes and Counter Insurgency lessons, HMMWV driving and rollover drills, and Combat Life Savers classes. We had live fire, simulator drills rivaling video games, and training ammunition. They set off smoke grenades as we demonstrated the finer points of kicking down doors and clearing rooms and houses. About twice a week, we participated in Key Leader Engagements (KLE) with former military officials from the country you were deploying to, for my class it was either Iraq or Afghanistan. During a KLE, you were given a goal and worked through an interpreter to accomplish your goal with your counterpart. According to the lesson plans, the scenarios went astray to train us for a range of issues – our team nearly entered into a war with Pakistan because of poor interpreting. It taught me to pay very close attention to the situation and learn cultural cues so I wouldn’t find myself in a similar situation in Afghanistan. My time at Fort Polk prepared me for almost every imaginable situation and I still wasn’t exactly sure what I’d be doing while I was deployed. I was more comfortable with my two weapons than I’d ever been in my life. Whatever I’d gotten myself into, I felt ready. The Army did a fantastic job of whipping us into shape in a matter of weeks. Getting from Fort Polk to Afghanistan was the longest trip of my life. This is more than a simple exaggeration – it took 15 days. I lugged 4 bags and a weapons case to Manas Airbase, where I added a C bag to the mix, which held the gear necessary to protect myself from a chemical or biological attack. When I left the United States from Houston, I encountered a somewhat clueless airline clerk. He told me I could check three bags for free, but asked what I wanted to do with the remaining two. Instead of picking my least favorite bags, I pulled out my Government Travel Card and brought all of my bags with me. When I got to Manas AB, my name wasn’t called on the first day as being manifested, so I took advantage of having a second day to relax. My second night in the tent, with my fingers crossed to be manifested, there were only eight of us. The logistics flight planner didn’t call my name again and called me to the front afterwards. He told me he had no idea how to get to Gardez, my final location, and could I tell him. He said he’d never heard of it or had anyone fly there. The look on my face must have been priceless. Eventually, I made it to Bagram Air Base and dragged my bags up and down the flight line several times because I was flying out of the helicopter terminal and not the passenger terminal. The distance between the two was significant, not considering the amount of baggage I had in tow. Somehow, I stumbled into the Joint Expeditionary Tasking Airmen Group’s office and was sternly talked to about why I didn’t come to their office first. The staff told me they knew I was coming, but I had no idea they even existed. By this point, I really was wary of what I’d gotten myself in to and could hear the saying “beggars can’t be choosers” repeating over and over.

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The next eight days were spent hanging out at Bagram and attending every event, like Bagram Idol, salsa dancing, movies, and reading every book I could get on my Kindle. The day I boarded the helo to Gardez was by far my favorite moment of the trip. The crew chief let me sit in the jump seat and I had a bird’s eye view of the countryside. At a refueling location, the crew chief verified my destination and said that he didn’t usually “drop girls off there.” He started naming other locations and another was the base I was supposed to go, but I checked first by asking him if girls were dropped off there. Once he said he did, I confirmed that was my destination. The helo landed at Forward Operating Base (FOB) Thunder, Gardez, and I was promptly dropped off with my mountain of luggage. I looked around and didn’t see any Americans at first. The Afghan soldiers were hanging around, watching the helo pad. A school bus and SUV pulled up and I was glad to see military uniforms because I’d started to worry I was dropped off at the wrong place. There is no “Welcome to FOB Thunder” sign to let you know you’re at the right place. The gentleman who drove the SUV asked me if I needed a ride and we loaded up my baggage and took off. He introduced himself as Quint, the point of contact for the interpreters. As soon as we drove onto FOB Lightning, my predecessor, Captain Cunningham, appeared and took over. He got me settled into a room and gave me a tour of the small base. He also let me know we were flying to Kabul two days later for a Medical Logistics Conference. The travel never seemed to stop those first few weeks. Before I met any of the Afghans I’d be working with or seen the hospital, we were off to Kabul. It was the first time I realized what I’d been trained for and how calm I felt if I had to handle anything. We took tours of the medical facilities in the area and I was appalled by the state of their warehouses and hospitals. Paperwork was not filed and had been tossed aside. Medical supplies were not refrigerated as needed and expired items were not organized in any sense. One of the basements was littered with equipment which could no longer be used. Words, honestly, cannot describe the mess I saw…I feared I’d face the same at my warehouse. Once we finally made it back to Gardez, having pushed our way to the front of the helo line, my adventure really began. Two days after we got back, Major Sean McNamara made it to the team. We’d met in the chow hall line at Fort Polk and traded the limited information we had on Gardez, so he wasn’t completely a stranger. The person he replaced left Gardez the same day Major McNamara arrived, so I took him on the in-processing route I’d completed days earlier. Major McNamara was the mentor to the pharmacy and I was the mentor to administration and medical logistics. In Afghanistan, the pharmacist ran logistics historically, which led to a high probability of stolen medicines. The stolen medicines were taken to pharmacies owned by hospital staff and dispensed there. The hospital had a difficult time keeping certain medications stocked and we tried to implement an effective tracking system. Major McNamara and I shared numerous frustrations from our work at the Paktia Regional Military Hospital, which we would vent over lunch or dinner at the dining facility (DFAC). Our Medical Embedded Training Team was like any good, crazy family and we had our own circles within the team. The other two females on our team were nurses, lived across the hallway from each other and had gone through CST together, so they were battle buddies. Since Mac and I had a similar sense of humor and worked well together, I told him he had to be my battle buddy. I didn’t want to get left out of the battle buddy match up. During our first weeks of working together, I kept my professionalism, calling Major McNamara by his rank or sir. He told me to stop because I said “sir” sarcastically and I didn’t work for him.

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When promotion time came around for me, Mac helped me write my Promotion Recommendation Form. We spent several hours over a few days crafting and tweaking it until we had a great product. I sent my copy to Lieutenant Colonel Bragg for review back at Robins and it was a mostly painless process. (Thank you Mac!) We were allowed to participate in an outreach mission at a nearby FOB in October. It, for me, was the highlight of everything I did while in Afghanistan and would love to go back on a Female Engagement Team where we work directly with Afghan women. The preparations for the mission began nearly a month earlier and we prepared medications and items to handout a week prior. We counted, bagged, and organized over 30,000 pills, which made the process smoother once we got to the outreach locations. Mac compiled an initial formulary to accompany us and the Afghan National Army (ANA) medical personnel who were selected to come. The only problem was the list couldn’t be updated during the mission because we didn’t bring a laptop with us. The ANA personnel accompanying us were told about the mission only days prior because there was a history of people ditching at the last minute. When we left the FOB for eastern Afghanistan, I was floating on air. This is what I’d joined the military for and it was my first convoy outside of training. Sitting in the Mine Resistant Ambush Protected (MRAP) armored vehicle took some adjusting and keeping still as we bounced over rocks and potholes. The legroom was tight, so I sat facing one of the vehicle’s crew members and my legs was staggered with his. I had one leg in between his and I only saw bad things happening if we hit a pothole and I slid too far forward in my chair. We stopped at a clinic before we arrived at our base in Chamkani district. The Provincial Reconstruction Team members went into the Ministry of Public Health (MoPH) clinic to deliver supplies and meet with the medical staff. While we waited in the MRAPs, the crowds grew and they watched us with curiosity. Some pointed at me and couldn’t seem to believe there was a female in the vehicle. When the guy sitting across from me exited the vehicle to provide security, my heart pounded as the door opened and we were left exposed until I figured out how to shut the hydraulic operated door. The first night we met with the people who would be providing security for the outreach mission and hung out with our ANA counterparts in the gym, where the men (Afghan and American) were sleeping because of limited space on base. The biggest shock to me was the co-ed bathrooms. Walking out of the shower in the morning, fully clothed and freshly showered, to see a line of guys waiting their turn takes a lot of getting used to. After a long bumpy drive through the Afghan countryside, including fording rivers and passing goat herders, we finally arrived at a madrasa. There wasn’t anything else nearby and the closest homes were several hills away. Our security team setup their perimeter and made contact with the local village elders, who didn’t have the keys to unlock the madrasa (an Islamic theology teaching center) door. Eventually, we got into the madrasa and setup separate male and female assessment areas. The Taliban, according to the villagers and our ANA staff, was threatening to harm anyone who sought treatment from the Americans. The majority of the patients in the early hours were children, who mostly had benign concerns. A village elder stopped by and asked us if he could bring us lunch. He was hospitable and kind and stayed to talk to us on the female side for a while. The picture I took of him walking away was one of my favorites I took while I was deployed. Someone explained the area we were performing the mission in by comparing it to the Bible Belt in the United States. He said the area we were in could be called the Qur’an Belt because of how deeply religious the people were in comparison to the rest of Afghanistan. The second day of our outreach was held in a MoPH clinic in a significantly less rural area. The males and females were seen in separate areas again and we had a midwife to work with on the female side. One of our interpreters had family in the area and wanted to hide his presence, so he wore a bandana over his face, sunglasses, and a baseball hat. Working for the Americans isn’t always prized in some areas and he didn’t want to risk the lives of loved ones by having his profession exposed. Meeting the kids and helping them receive some of

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the only medical and dental care they’d probably have in their lives forced me to see how lucky I was to be born an American. My annual dental appointment doesn’t elicit the same groans as it did before deployment. The people treated, viewed care from the Americans as the gold standard and we had no shortage of patients. We were supposed to do a third day of outreach, but we ran out of medications and wore out our welcome on the FOB. Also, we didn’t receive the same support from the village elders as we had the first two stops, so our leadership made the decision to cancel the third day. The FOB wasn’t used to hosting such a high population, especially so many females, so we’d gone through all of the water. The toilets had no water to flush…all hand washing had to be done with hand sanitizer, and showers were done with baby wipes. For some reason, I’d decided to shower the night before and I felt so glad I was somewhat clean as we convoyed back to FOB Lightning. The whole ride back I soaked in the scenery and thought about what I’d been able to contribute. For me, the trip was perfect and I was reenergized to face the issues at PRMH. Our environment at FOB Thunder/Lightning was predominately male. The staff at Paktia Regional Military Hospital (PRMH) was comprised of male Afghan National Army soldiers and the only females were my teammates and I. It could be a tough environment and I had to find the fine line between asserting myself and working with the Afghans. I didn’t want to upset them to the point of getting nothing done, but I did want to make progress. Some of the ANA soldiers, who were in the hospital for appointments and treatment, would stare at me and try to get my attention in different ways. My team leader, for obvious reasons, wouldn’t allow the females to be at the hospital alone, unless it was an emergency. During the night hours, it was forbidden to be at PRMH alone. Honestly, I was thankful for that rule. Most mornings, Mac would walk up to the hospital with me. While we were at the hospital, we would tag team and he wouldn’t leave the hospital without me, or making sure I had someone to walk with back to FOB Lightning. FOB Thunder was an ANA basic training site and the trainees would make two lines, walking both sides of the road with their ruck sacks and weapons. To make it back to FOB Lightning, we had to walk down the center of the road. It was the first time many of these guys had encountered a female in the military. I would ignore the comments and their version of catcalls by pulling my boonie hat low and wearing the largest sunglasses I had. At all times of the day and week, we would receive shipments for the medical warehouse. During my first months there, the shipments came to FOB Lightning’s front gate and I had to meet the truck driver to take him to the warehouse. The shipments eventually were forced to stop at the front gate of FOB Thunder. When the shipments came to FOB Lightning’s gate, the security personnel would take the driver’s cell phone and check the truck. However, the process became more fluid at the FOB Thunder gate. In my opinion, the process became more dangerous for me once the shipments no longer came to FOB Lightning. Since I didn’t feel comfortable driving because of the reckless drivers on base, Mac would drive us to the FOB Thunder gate. We even had to drive out of the walls of FOB Thunder because there was no communication between the inner checkpoint and the main checkpoint. The times I dealt with the ANA troops were difficult because they would see me and try to test and push me. One soldier tried to get me to come wherever he was standing because he wanted to show his power. He moved around and attempted to engage me in his game of cat and mouse. I refused to walk over and eventually made him come to where I was standing. The amount of hand gestures and broken Dari and English we used was comical. I knew the word for hospital and could somehow get them to figure out which truck was destined for the warehouse. Luckily, when Mac was there, he would take the lead and work with the ANA troops to get the right truck to us. They didn’t check the trucks or perform any of the security measures done at the FOB Lightning gate. I had an impossible time tracking down who was responsible on the American side for mentoring the Afghans at the FOB Thunder gate. Looking back now, it was stupid for us to go out there at all, but it was the only way for us to get those supplies. Otherwise, the drivers would’ve left or delayed the delivery, leaving the hospital with limited supplies.

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One day, when Mac and I were waiting in our team vehicle by the inner checkpoint, an ANA troop walked by us, about 20 feet away. He said “Capt Jordan!!!” loudly and waved and I thought I recognized the guy from the PRMH warehouse staff. However, Mac corrected me and I realized I’d never seen the guy before. The solider had been far enough away where he couldn’t read my nametag (we had flight crew patches on our Airman Battle System-Ground (ABS-G) uniforms), so it threw me off completely. Hindsight being 20/20, I’m more bothered by this now than I was at the time. All of this has been building up to 5 December 2010. On 4 December 2010, I worked the day shift at the Medical Control Center (MCC) and Mac worked the night shift. Since he worked the night shift until midnight, he was technically off the next day. However, we had our leadership meeting on 5 December, so he came up to PRMH after Clinical Openers. It was a gorgeous December day – the sun was shining and it wasn’t cold. All I needed were my ABSGs and a fleece undershirt. I convinced Mac to have lunch at the bazaar because the DFAC food was slowly getting worse and it was one of our last chances to have kebabs and naan al fresco. Plus, we got to people watch and no one else on our team liked coming out for lunch. We were required to go to the bazaar in groups, even for males. The buddy system worked well and we could always find someone to go with on the team. While we ate lunch, I noticed there were more ANA soldiers shopping that day. It didn’t seem odd to me because I thought they were enjoying one of the last bazaar days before the bad winter weather came. We also saw several of the hospital patients with bandages and external fixations, clothed in hospital pajamas. They were regulars at the bazaar and always made it if they could manage walking on the river rocks. After lunch, we started shopping and made our way around the circle of shops. The first guy I stopped at was someone I’d bought from before and I found two necklaces and a hammered silver bowl I wanted. The bargaining went on excessively and Mac finally stepped in because he wanted to move on. He added a string of carved monkeys, which he wanted to give to our team leader, to my order and I finally settled on a price. I stopped at another table to order a ring and we walked towards the entrance of the bazaar. One shop owner recognized me and asked me to stop at his shop. I told him I’d come by after I talked to a friend. Mac and I joked with Bill, a guy we’d seen at the DFAC often and was a practical joker. If you sat with him at dinner, he kept you dying with laughter and was one of my favorite people to see on base. Bill left the bazaar and I walked with Mac in the direction of the guy I promised I’d return to. This is the last time I remember looking at my watch – it was 1330. It was our last stop of the day because I had scheduled a meeting with the interpreters at 1400. Mac had drifted off to another table and I was talking with the owner about different items on his table. We were bartering over these things and I didn’t see anything I had to buy. A rush of heat passed my right side and the next thing I remember I’m facing almost 180 degrees of where I had been standing. Dirt and sand and debris floated through the air and I couldn’t hear anything. My mind was blank and began to race as I tried to put together anything to save my life and find Mac. As far as I was concerned, we were still in danger until we got back to the base. Even then, safety wasn’t a guarantee. I didn’t know what had exploded, but I knew it was much, much stronger than a gunfight. All I could hear were my screams and every bit of profanity I knew as I realized the scene at the bazaar. At CST, we were taught there is a very real possibility for a secondary attack, potentially from another planted bomb or a vest on someone who pretends to be injured. The goal is to kill or injure as many people as possible. With this running through my head, I knew I had to get out of there. But, I didn’t want to leave without Mac, who I couldn’t find. I looked for him and thought he’d run out already. On my way out, I didn’t see any other Americans to take with me. At the entrance of the bazaar, I ran into Quint, who drove me to FOB Lightning on

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my arrival all those months ago. He was a retired Army First Sergeant and quickly assessed me. I told him I didn’t know what happened to Mac and he could be badly injured or dead. Honestly, that was my greatest fear. Quint told me he’d find Mac and pushed me towards the base so I could get into a bunker. I ran onto the base behind two Army guys and got into the first bunker we saw. The base at first was quiet and then things started moving. The whole base was buzzed with people gearing up and the Quick Response Force (QRF) trucks moving into place. Over the Giant Voice system, all medics were called to the Troop Medical Clinic (TMC). It wasn’t far from where I was, so I started to run in that direction. My training kicked in and I automatically responded with what I’d been taught. Before I got to the TMC, I saw my team leader and I knew he’d be doing accountability. I told him we’d been at the bazaar and I couldn’t find Mac. In my somewhat hysteric state, I kept focusing on finding Mac and didn’t want to talk about anything else. The team leader told me to go to the Joint Operations Center (JOC) and call in a 9 line for 4 MEDEVAC helicopters. With that, I ran/stumbled across the river rocks to the JOC as fast as I could move. Once I got to the JOC, I ran down the hallway to their main control area and got their attention. My hearing was still not back to normal, so I’m sure I was shouting because I had no idea what my volume was and I was in shock. I told them who I was, even though I worked with them on a frequent basis, and told them I needed 4 MEDEVACs. Whatever information I had about the casualties, I gave them, and stressed we needed 4 helos repeatedly for probably the next 3 minutes. I knew Mac would be on one of them and I wanted to make sure we didn’t have to call back for additional helos. When I felt comfortable the JOC staff would call all 4 MEDEVACs, I ran back down the hallways. I contemplated getting my M4 and battle rattle, but it wasn’t worth the extra time to me, so I ran back to the TMC. When I got to the TMC, I wasn’t much help. Shortly after I got there, I saw someone carrying in a leg, which had been severed around the upper thigh. I started crying, insisting the leg was Mac’s and he was dead. Honestly, it could’ve been anything they brought into the TMC, even something innately female, and I would’ve sworn it was Mac’s. Since I hadn’t seen him and no one knew where he was, I assumed the worst because of everything I’d seen in that short time period. Quint appeared out of nowhere and pulled me into a QRF prep area. He wanted to get me out of the path of the TMC and make sure I hadn’t been hit by any shrapnel. The shock began to hit me hard and I couldn’t stop crying and had trouble breathing. Mascara ran down my face and mixed with the dirt and sand from the blast, so Quint got me a washcloth to clean up with and a bottle of water to rehydrate me. Another captain was in the QRF area and began talking to me while Quint went to find out what he could about Mac. The captain was there TDY and did what he could to keep me focused. He checked me for shrapnel too and found nothing. The only physical wound of the blast was a scratch on the top of my head. My hair and eyebrows were horribly singed, but my sunglasses protected my eyes. The sunglasses were a commercial brand and not military issue, so I was lucky they hadn’t exploded. Quint eventually came back and took me to his office to get me away from seeing more of what was happening on base. My anxiety was increasing as I saw preparations and I felt helpless for not contributing. When we went into his office, his colleague was there working and I apologized for not submitting my interpreter’s timecard on time. He looked at me like I was crazy and told me not to worry about it. The TMC staff began looking for me because they heard I was at the bazaar during the explosion. Quint took me back there to be seen and it was the last time I saw him. Hopefully, our paths cross again one day, because I want to thank him for taking care of me and protecting me when I was incredibly vulnerable. Walking into the TMC is vivid in my memory. It’s one of the sharper memories because of the horrible scene. All of the medical staff was working like a well-oiled machine, especially for people who had never worked together.

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There were about 4 or 5 medics crowded around the main patient bed working on someone whose blood covered the floor. Someone held bags of blood and fluid up while a guy on my team held a picture in front of the patient’s face, saying, “focus on your family – stay with us.” I recognized that picture. The patient was Mac. In that moment, I was relieved and frightened. Mac was alive, but his injuries looked life threatening. There were two guys with minor shrapnel wounds receiving treatment off to the side. One of them stood in his underwear while a medic pulled shrapnel from his body and the other was being bandaged up. A medic led me to an exam table and I watched what was going on with Mac. I didn’t recognize him at first because his wounds and facial swelling were so severe. The picture of him and his family was my only clue. I refused treatment because no one had found shrapnel wounds and there was no way I was as bad off as any of the other three in the TMC. However, one of the team members came over to me and started examining me and asking questions of what I remembered. I wasn’t sure if I’d blacked out, but, as he asked more questions, it became a possibility. He told me he was going to send me to FOB Salerno for further evaluation because he couldn’t make a clear diagnosis. Leaving FOB Lightning was out of the question for me because I didn’t want to leave and put myself in an unknown situation. Even though I’d been part of the attack, I felt safe and not quite as vulnerable since I was with people I knew. I fought against my team member to stay, but I didn’t have much energy to put up a good fight. I lost and found myself on the back of a Gator, next to the bandaged up contractor I’d seen earlier in the TMC. My team member took my M9 and told me I could have it back if they returned me to duty. After months of having at least one weapon on me constantly, I felt naked without it. We rode out of the front gate of FOB Lightning and I had a sinking feeling it’d be the last time I saw the base. The QRF trucks were set up outside the base, like we’d been taught in training and it was something I never thought I’d see. I honestly felt safe on FOB Lightning/FOB Thunder. While I always had a weapon on me and was vigilant, I thought we were as safe as we could be in Afghanistan. When we arrived at the helipad, the rest of my team was helping patients to the helicopters and keeping a patient status log. They were surprised to see me out there because they thought Mac was the only injured member of our team. One of the Airmen asked me if I was cold. I hadn’t realized I was shivering and couldn’t function to get my ABS-G top through my arms. He helped wrap it around me and I gave him a hug. He asked for the last four of my social and handed me off to the MEDEVAC aircrew, who put me in the back of a helo. Mac was on a litter in my helo and I watched everything the aircrew did to keep Mac comfortable. I couldn’t help but smile when he kept checking the labels of all the meds being pumped into his IV lines – such a pharmacist! The medics kept pushing him back down on the litter and tried to keep him from stressing any of his injuries. The helo landed at FOB Salerno and I followed the other walking wounded patient towards the clinic. Three of the Special Forces (SF) guys I knew from base, were waiting for our helo to arrive and I was absolutely confused to see them. I didn’t know how they’d beaten us to Salerno, and the events of the day added to my own confusion. The guys had just come off a mission and received word of the attack at Lightning, so they waited for us to arrive. They were surprised to see me and Mac because they hadn’t received a casualty listing. Once I was triaged, the techs drew blood and took my vitals, and I campaigned to be sent back to Lightning. I tried telling everyone I was fine and the docs even debated whether or not I needed a CT scan. Mac was in surgery and I sent the SF guys to get whatever information they could for me. The SF guys also offered to go buy me whatever I needed since I left the base with nothing, but all I wanted was the guys responsible for the attack. Eventually, Mac and the other patients were stabilized and didn’t require the use of the CT anymore, so I was scanned and told I had an intraparenchymal hemorrhage (IPH). It would earn me at least a trip to Bagram for further evaluation. I was staged in the Intensive care Unit (ICU) and, from my bed, could see Mac, who I didn’t

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recognize at first because of the swelling and medical appliances all over him. Knowing I couldn’t do anything, I still kept watch on him. The first aircraft landed to take us to Bagram and, due to a mistake, a second one landed as well, so the two critically injured patients went first with the Critical Care Air Transport Team. Another patient and I went with the Pararescue Jumpers (PJ), who flew in second. I was assigned to a PJ named Roger and I kept him laughing the entire trip to Bagram. Who knows what came out of my mouth, but he was happy to have a conscious patient for a change. When we got to Bagram, they did another CT to confirm the Salerno results. Unfortunately, the IPH was still there and I was assigned to a bed in the ICU. Honestly, I was holding out hope I’d be sent back to Lightning, so I hadn’t let anyone call back home yet. I tried to bribe my doctor and had no takers. Finally, I realized I had to call home before I just showed up back in the States. I could only remember one phone number, so I called my best friend and broke the news. She used Facebook to track down my family and get them the information. Up until that point, I wouldn’t let anyone notify my family because I wanted them to hear my voice, rather than fearing the worst. The nurses let me go see Mac and got me a wheelchair so I could go over to his room. It was the first time I’d spoken to him since the bazaar and I couldn’t stop crying. Between both of us losing hearing and my crying, it was a bad sight. He was unrecognizable with the facial burns, singed eyebrows, facial cuts, bruises, and swelling. All the bandages and surgical sites made it hard for me to hold it together, which is exactly what you want to do in a situation like this. The guilt I felt was overwhelming and I knew it was my fault Mac was injured because I’d wanted to go shopping. We compared stories of what had happened and pieced together what we could, but we didn’t know much. I helped him make calls back to the States since he couldn’t see well. I honestly cried almost every single time we spoke for the first five days. I was well enough to be transferred to the Intensive Care Ward (ICW) and it meant I could finally shower and visit Mac whenever I wanted. The smell of burnt hair and the smell left on my skin are inexplicable. To this day, I can still smell it and I couldn’t believe it was me who smelled like that. The worst part of showering was combing my hair afterwards and seeing all of the burnt strands falling to the ground. It took three showers for the smell to begin to diminish. When I walked back and forth between the ICU and ICW, Afghan patients were in some of the common areas. After everything, I was weary of them and walked as fast as I could by any Afghans I saw. The nurses told me a general was coming up from Kabul to present our Purple Hearts. I told them I wasn’t badly injured and didn’t want it, but they insisted and told me the paperwork had already been completed. They thought it was funny to give me a green sweatshirt and red pants to wear since it was so close to Christmas. When the general came to present my Purple Heart, I pulled the blanket up to hide those pants. They let me attend Mac’s ceremony as well, but he doesn’t remember any of it. It was only a day and a half later we left Bagram for Landstuhl, but it felt like weeks. We landed at Ramstein on 7 December and rode the ambus to Landstuhl. Mac told the crew it was my birthday and they grabbed my wrist to verify the date on my bracelet. It was my 28th birthday and the whole bus sang to me. I’d mostly forgotten because it wasn’t really important in the grand scheme of things. When we pulled up to Landstuhl, I recognized two people as they took me off the bus – Major Keene, a nurse psychiatrist from Robins, and Laneka, my next door neighbor in the B hut. Major Keene was deployed to Landstuhl and Laneka had been TDY when her command found out Lightning was attacked. After they discovered she knew people in the blast, they allowed her to come spend time with us. We got settled in our rooms and Laneka and I celebrated my birthday with chocolate cupcakes and some things she’d picked out. Having her there was a huge comfort to me and we were able to talk about some of the stuff running through my mind. The next morning, the medical staff ran me through the MRI and found additional

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bleeding at the front of my brain. It wasn’t the news I’d hoped for, but it forced me to come to terms with my impending return home. There was a phone in my room and I was able to call back to Lightning and see how everyone was handling the post attack stress. Since I was able bodied, I thought I should’ve been at Lightning contributing what I could and helping the team. I called home to let them know I was okay and would be returning home soon. The shock was starting to wear off and reality set in. I was nervous around people I didn’t know, or who didn’t fit in with my idea of who was supposed to be present. My migraines, which I’d had before, were worse than I’d ever had in my life. Conversation was more difficult because I couldn’t always find the word I wanted. My brain didn’t work as fast as it had before and I was frustrated because physically I looked fine. The changes weren’t things everyone else picked up on, but I could. I slept curled up in a tight ball at the top of the bed and curled my shoulders in protection as I walked. I continued to tell everyone things were great with me, in hopes that I’d get to go back to Lightning. Laneka went with me to the Ramstein BX to buy clothes with the clothing allotment given to the injured troops. Without her, I probably wouldn’t have ventured out because of the crowds. She helped me pick out civilian clothes, so I had something other than a hospital gown to wear. Laneka left for her mid tour and then went back to Afghanistan, where things weren’t the same at Lightning. Major Keene checked on me and kept the people at Robins updated on my condition, so I didn’t have to often. Plus, he probably reflected my status a lot more accurately than I did. I didn’t want anyone to worry about me, so I spun it as positively as humanly possible. Mac was the one I was truly worried about because every time he would laugh or cough, he was in pain. He had surgery on his abdomen and it was still bothering him. He was hooked up to a morphine pain pump and it was the only way he made it through some conversations and could get some rest. For my own peace of mind, it was good to have that time in Germany to talk because it helped my guilt. I could see that Mac was doing better than the first days and had started to look like himself again. I teased him that he was trying to look tough by having scars and injuries on his face. He helped tone down my guilt and tell me it wasn’t my fault we went shopping that day. It was the fault of the guys who planned the attack. While I still feel some guilt now, it’s nowhere near where it was last December. On our last night in Germany, Major Keene took me out to dinner and it was great to have food from anywhere but the hospital. I was on high alert because it was my first time out and somewhat unprotected in my mind. When I got back to my ward, the nurses waited until I sat down to tell me Mac had been taken for an emergency surgery and wouldn’t be flying with me the next day. He made them promise to tell me as they’d rolled him out for surgery. The news started the tears flowing and I made the nurses swear they would wake me up early so I could see Mac before I left. I told them if they didn’t, I wasn’t going to leave. I didn’t sleep well and the nurses came in as promised to let me say goodbye to Mac. We went up to the ICU because he hadn’t been released to the ICW yet. He was in bad shape again and wasn’t conscious due to the intubation. It made me cry again – I’m surprised I wasn’t dehydrated from the constant crying. The nurses let me say my goodbyes and everything I needed to say, which included me apologizing again for not finding him at Lightning and leaving him in Germany. I even wrote him a note with the same information and my contact information in the States because we wouldn’t be on work e-mail anytime soon. I dragged my feet as we walked by to my room because I didn’t like leaving my battle buddy. I flew back to the States and landed at Andrews AFB. Some of the aircrew pointed at me and I had no idea what was going on, until Lieutenant General Green and Brigadier General Miller appeared. They greeted me upon my arrival and I did my best to hold it together. General Green told me Major General Travis was planning to visit me at the Contingency Aeromedical Staging Facility in the morning. After the generals left, the Army guys next to me asked me who I was and the easiest explanation I could think of was since few people in the Air Force ever get injured, we send generals out to greet them. They didn’t question my answer.

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At the CASF, there was an MSC to help me out and coordinate everything going on, which was more than I could handle. I appreciated his help more than I can ever express. He told me Mac’s wife wanted to meet me if I was up to it and, to me, the only answer was of course. She came to the CASF shortly after and I told her everything I could think of, giving her more information than Mac told her. I stopped sharing some of the deployment stories and background information because it wasn’t doing any good. I put my foot in my mouth, but told her if Mac didn’t come back on the next flight to fly over and be with him. My best friend’s parents came to visit me that night because they wanted to see with their own eyes I was as okay as I claimed to be. Major Generals Travis and Caron stopped by to see me before we left Andrews AFB. The amount of support I received was more than I expected and I knew I was lucky to know people in every location from start to finish. We flew to Scott AFB and were stuck for two days at their CASF because of weather conditions and aircraft maintenance. At that point, I realized I’d pushed myself too hard over the past few days and it hit me hard. I didn’t leave my bed while I was at Scott, except to shower. The migraines I experienced were worsening and I was nauseous whenever I was awake. The team there took great care of me and I started to feel better when we were on our way to San Antonio. My first assignment was at Wilford Hall Medical Center (WHMC) and several of my friends were still in the area. When the ambus took us towards Brooke Army Medical Center (BAMC), I told them I didn’t want to be taken there, since I was biased towards WHMC. After a short intake process in the ER, I was admitted to the neurosurgery service and taken to a room. The neurosurgeon wanted to send me back to Robins AFB the next day since I didn’t require surgery and was still active in the air evac system. However, I didn’t feel comfortable coming back to Georgia since I wasn’t allowed to drive and be independent because of my brain bleed. Robins AFB didn’t have the care I required and traveling to Atlanta would be nearly impossible. My case manager argued for me and I was allowed to stay in San Antonio to receive TBI focused care. The next day, I was released from the hospital and I was so happy not to have an IV in my arm for the first time in nine days. Being in the real world, especially after the blast, was overwhelming. Everything was sensory overload because I was constantly looking for potential attacks. My shoulders were hunched over and I carried myself in a protective position. For the next two months, I was an outpatient at the Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI) Clinic at BAMC. I was treated by a speech pathologist, physical therapist, psychologist, and neuropsychologist, and managed by a physician’s assistant. Every day I was in the clinic for an appointment because I wanted to return to duty. The first day I left the TBI Clinic, my test was to find my way out of BAMC. They pushed me and helped identify and overcome my shortfalls. Many of the things I noticed which didn’t return to normal were invisible to others. The psychologist and I didn’t work well together because he told me he’d “seen worse cases of PTSD” and I was fine. I didn’t appreciate what I went through being marginalized, especially so soon after leaving Afghanistan. While I understand his point, no two deployments are identical and no one responds to events the same as another person. After I returned to Robins AFB, I sought counseling because of my guilt over Mac’s injuries and what happened repeating in my head. It took me a long time to call it something other than “the accident.” Even though I know it wasn’t an accident, it was the only way I could talk about it. The rest of the treatment team was unbelievable. The care given is amazing and I knew how lucky I was to only have suffered a moderate TBI. Other patients who were injured worse, both in combat and stateside, benefitted immensely from the TBI Clinic treatment. The speech pathologist assigned me teasers and logic puzzles to help my brain find new ways of thinking. She had me give a presentation about the topic of my choosing, to prepare me for briefings when I returned to duty. The neuropsychological testing drained me after a full eight hours, but it showed where I was lacking and the neuropsychologist told me how I could counteract the results. The physical

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therapist tested me for balance and vestibular problems. She showed me exercises to steady my balance and lessen the severity of my migraines. When I finally was discharged and returned to duty, I couldn’t have been more ready. My command supported me the entire way through my treatment and the WHMC patient squadron took amazing care of me. I loved being around WHMC because I got to visit with people I hadn’t seen in a while. An MSC officer, who I served with in Iraq, took me to lunch and checked on me. There wasn’t a time where I felt alone or isolated, which was ideal for my situation. The guy on my team, who put me on the helicopter in Afghanistan, had returned to San Antonio and we had dinner. I was able to thank him for what he did and talk about the things only people who were there that day would know about. I still am in contact with Mac and imagine I will be for the rest of my life. The explosion guaranteed our lives will be linked forever. Earlier this year, my promotion results were released and I was selected for major, so I asked Mac to officiate the ceremony because he was the only person I could imagine for the role. If I had the chance to rewind the clock and do it all over again, I wouldn’t change anything to get me to that day. I would change what I could so no one would be injured or die, but I still would join the military and pursue deployment. Even now, I’m clamoring for a chance to deploy again. It’s what I joined to do and be a part of, so I look forward to deploying again one day. Every year for the rest of my life on December 5th, I will pause to think about the attack and the two guys who lost their lives. _____________________________________________________________________________

REVISED LORD’S PRAYER

Hi Lord, it’s me. We are getting older and things are getting bad here. Gas prices are too high, no jobs, food and heating costs too high. I know some have taken You out of our schools, government and even Christmas. But Lord I'm asking You to come back and re-bless America. We really need You! There are more of us who want You than those who don't! Thank You Lord, I Love You. "Life without God is like an unsharpened pencil - it has no point."

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BUDGET REQUEST PRESERVES TROOP HEALTH BENEFITS, OFFICIAL SAYS Release No. 02-05-12 │Feb. 14, 2012

By Karen Parrish, American Forces Press Service

WASHINGTON (AFRNS) – The $48.7 billion in medical spending contained in the 2013 defense budget request follows Defense Secretary Leon E. Panetta's often-stated priority of keeping faith with military members, a senior Defense Department official said Feb. 13. Though the request would establish or increase TRICARE enrollment fees and deductibles for most retirees and raise retail and mail-order pharmacy co-pays, fees will not increase for active-duty service members, survivors of military members who died on active duty, or medically retired service members, Dr. Jonathan Woodson told Pentagon Channel and American Forces Press Service reporters. Woodson, a vascular surgeon, is the department's assistant secretary for health affairs and director of the TRICARE Management Activity. "Active-duty family members will be affected by increases in co-pays when they obtain prescriptions from retail or mail-order pharmacies," he said. "Prescriptions will continue to be filled at no cost to beneficiaries at military treatment facilities." Defense Secretary Panetta has taken a balanced approach to required spending cuts, Woodson said. "There's a global fiscal crisis, there's a national fiscal crisis, and of course, we're conducting business under the Budget Control Act," he said. The Defense Department has a $487 billion dollar "bill to pay" under that act, Woodson added. "All things needed to be considered," he said, "but I think there's been a real fair approach in making sure that we honor the service of our men and women who commit to defending this nation." Department leaders have protected personnel benefits, particularly health care, as much as possible, he said. "The health care will remain superb," he pledged. "The access to health care will be preserved, and it will be quality care." Proposed changes include:  Increasing enrollment fees for retirees under age 65 in the TRICARE Prime health plan, using a tiered approach based on retired pay that requires senior-grade retirees with higher retired pay to pay more and junior-grade retirees less;  Establishing a new enrollment fee and increasing deductibles for the TRICARE Standard and TRICARE Extra plans;  Establishing a new, tiered enrollment fee for the TRICARE-for-Life program for retirees 65 and older;  Increasing pharmacy co-pays while offering incentive costs for use of mail order delivery and generic medicines;  Indexing fees, deductibles, pharmacy co-pays, and catastrophic caps to reflect the growth in national health care costs.

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Proposed pharmacy co-pay costs for a one-month supply of retail drugstore prescriptions are set at $5 for generic drugs and $12 for brand-name medicines in fiscal 2012, and will rise over time to $9 and $34, respectively, in fiscal 2017. For mail-order three-month prescriptions, those costs begin at being free for generic drugs and $9 for brandname medicines, and rise in fiscal 2017 to $9 and $34. Defense officials noted that nonformulary drugs – those not on the department's list of standard medicines – often are not available in retail pharmacies and have higher mail-order co-pays, ranging from $25 in fiscal 2012 to $66 in fiscal 2017. Under the tiered system, retirees younger than 65 enrolled in TRICARE Prime will pay a minimum enrollment fee of $460 this fiscal year, rising to $893 in fiscal 2017 for those receiving less than $22,589 in annual retirement income. Maximum TRICARE Prime enrollment fees, charged to retirees receiving more than $45,179 in annual retirement pay, are set at $460 to $520 this year and $2,048 in fiscal 2017. In his prepared testimony Feb. 14 before the Senate Armed Services Committee, Panetta said service members and their families will see no increases in health care fees or deductibles. Military retirees younger than 65 will be most affected, and their costs will remain, "as they should be," below those of most private-sector plans, Panetta said. _______________________________________________________________________________

40 YEARS OF MARRIAGE A married couple in their early 60s was celebrating their 40th wedding anniversary in a quiet, romantic little restaurant. Suddenly, a tiny, yet beautiful, fairy appeared on their table. She said, 'For being such an exemplary married couple and for being so loving to each other for all this time, I will grant you each a wish.' The wife answered, 'Oh, I want to travel around the world with my darling husband. The fairy waved her magic wand and - poof! – Two tickets for the Queen Mary II appeared in her hands. The husband thought for a moment: 'Well, this is all very romantic, but an opportunity like this will never come again. I'm sorry my love, but my wish is to have a wife 30 years younger than me. The wife, and the fairy, was deeply disappointed, but a wish is a wish. So the fairy waved her magic wand and poof! – The husband became 92 years old. The moral of this story: Men should always remember fairies are female!!! Submitted with caution by Jim Pearce, Col, USAF, MSC (Ret) _______________________________________________________________________________________

MEDICARE PART B PREMIUM SURPRISE Now that the premiums for those 75% of beneficiaries who were held harmless are able to rise, Medicare was able to lift the extra premium burden previously imposed on the unprotected 25%.

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The bottom line: almost every Medicare-eligible will be paying lower premiums in 2012 than had been expected On Thursday Medicare officials announced the new Part B premium rates for 2012 – and they were significantly lower across the board than most people had expected. And for the first time in memory, large numbers of seniors will actually see their premiums drop significantly. Most beneficiaries with incomes under $85,000 (or $170,000 for couples) will see a small increase in monthly premiums from $96.40 to $99.90 – an increase of 3.6%. But for some in that category (specifically, those who first became eligible for Medicare in 2010 and 2011 the $99.90 rate will be less than what they paid in 2011. Similarly, beneficiaries with incomes above $85,000 ($170,000 for married couples) will see their premiums drop by $20-$50 per month. Why the declines? Because these two groups (new eligibles and upper-income beneficiaries) were hit with extra premium hikes for the past two years. That happened because the law generally bars any drop in Social Security benefits when there’s no COLA. That means most people had their Part B premiums frozen for the last two years. But new eligible’s and upper-income people were exempt from the freeze, so they absorbed not only their share of the 2010 and 2011 hikes, but also had to cover the share of all of the “frozen” beneficiaries. And, a significant number will be paying much less. The following chart shows the 2012 premium rates. Individual Income

2011 Premiums

2012 Premiums

Change

Gov't Subsidy

Under $85K

$96.40

$99.90

+$3.50

75%

$85+K - $107K

$161.50

$139.90

-$21.60

65%

$107+K - $160K

$230.70

$199.80

-$30.90

50%

$160+K - $214K

$299.90

$259.70

-$40.20

35%

Above $214K

$369.10

$319.70

-$49.40

20%

And one more piece of good news – Medicare also reported that the annual Part B deductible will drop to $140 for all beneficiaries in 2012 – a $22 drop from the 2011 deductible. SOURCE: MOAA 3 Nov 2011 News Exchange. _______________________________________________________________________________ By the time you have received the April USAF MSC Newsletter, Easter will have come and gone. But, here’s wishing you a most blessed Easter. Your Newsletter Editor – WGT.

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