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It turns out the "heroic rescue" of Pvt. Jessica Lynch during the invasion of Iraq wasn't so heroic or anything like the Lie perpetrated by the Capitalist Media. Here is the Pvt. Jessica the America Media claimed fought against Iraqi soldiers to avoid capture: "'She was very frightened when she woke up,' Dr Harith, 24, a junior resident at the hospital, said. She kept saying: 'Please don't hurt me, don't touch me.' I told her that she was safe, she was in a hospital and that I was a doctor, and I never hurt a patient." I wonder if Hollywood will include this in the Made for TV Movie that is sure to follow.
April 16, 2003

So who really did save Private Jessica?
From Richard Lloyd Parry in al-Nasiriyah

Doctor claims that soldiers terrorised unarmed staff

THE rescue of Private Jessica Lynch, which inspired America during one of the most difficult periods of the war, was not the heroic Hollywood story told by the US military, but a staged operation that terrified patients and victimised the doctors who had struggled to save her life, according to Iraqi witnesses.

Doctors at al-Nasiriyah general hospital said that the airborne assault had met no resistance and was carried out a day after all the Iraqi forces and Baath leadership had fled the city.

Four doctors and two patients, one of whom was paralysed and on an intravenous drip, were bound and handcuffed as American soldiers rampaged through the wards, searching for departed members of the Saddam regime.

An ambulance driver who tried to carry Private Lynch to the American forces close to the city was shot at by US troops the day before their mission. Far from winning hearts and minds, the US operation has angered and hurt doctors who risked their lives treating both Private Lynch and Iraqi victims of the war. "What the Americans say is like the story of Sinbad the Sailor it's a myth," said Harith al-Houssona, who saved Private Lynch's life after she was brought to the hospital by Iraqi military intelligence.

"They said that there was no medical care in Iraq, and that there was a very strong defence of this hospital. But there was no one here apart from doctors and patients, and there was nobody to fire at them."

Dr Harith was on duty when Private Lynch was brought to al-Nasiriyah general by Iraqi soldiers a few days after her capture on March 23. She was a member of a 15-member US Army maintenance company convoy that was ambushed after taking a wrong turn near the city.

At the time, she was suffering from a head injury, a broken leg and arm, a bullet wound to her leg, a pulmonary oedema and her breathing was failing. In a hospital inundated with war casualties with few drugs, her condition was stabilised and she regained consciousness.

"She was very frightened when she woke up," Dr Harith, 24, a junior resident at the hospital, said. "She kept saying: 'Please don't hurt me, don't touch me.' I told her that she was safe, she was in a hospital and that I was a doctor, and I never hurt a patient."

Private Lynch's military guards would allow no other doctor to tend to her and Dr Harith formed a friendship with her. She talked to him about her family, including her arguments about money with her father, and about her boyfriend, a Hispanic soldier named Ruben.

Dr Harith went outside the hospital during the bombing to get supplies of Private Lynch's favourite drink, orange juice, and struggled to persuade her to eat.

"I told her she needed to eat to recover, and I brought her crackers, but her stomach was upset. She said as a joke: 'I want to be slim.'

"I see (many) patients, but she was special. She's a very simple person, a soldier, not well-educated. But she was very, very nice, with a lovely face and blonde hair."

The Iraqi intelligence officers told the hospital that Private Lynch would soon be transferred to Baghdad, a prospect that terrified her.

After her condition stabilised, they ordered Dr Harith to transfer Jessica to another hospital.

Instead he told the ambulance driver to deliver her to one of the American outposts that had already been established on the ouskirts of the city.

"But when he reached their checkpoint, the Americans fired at him," he said.

On April 1 the local Baathists fled al-Nasiriyah for Baghdad and arrived at the hospital looking for their prize captive. Dr Harith moved her to another part of the hospital, and other doctors told the soldiers that he was away.

"They said that they thought Jessica had died, and they didn't know where she was," he said. In their haste and confusion the soldiers left, leaving behind only a few critically injured soldiers.

The American "rescue" operation came on the night of April 2. The hospital was bombarded and soldiers arrived in helicopters and, according to the hospital doctors, in tanks that pulled up outside the hospital.

Most of the doctors fled to the shelter of the radiology department on the first floor.

"We heard them firing and shouting: 'Go! Go! Go! Go!' " Dr Harith said. One group of soldiers dug up the graves of dead US soldiers outside the hospital, while another interrogated doctors about Ali Hassan al-Majid, the senior Baath party figure known as Chemical Ali, who had never been seen there. A third group looked for Private Lynch.

US soldiers videotaped the rescue, but among the many scenes not shown to the press at US Central Command in Doha was one of four doctors who were handcuffed and interrogated, along with two civilian patients, one of whom was immobile and connected to a drip. "They were doctors, with stethoscopes round their necks," Dr Harith said.

"Even in war, a doctor should not be treated like that."

Unluckiest of all was Abdul Razaq, one of the hospital administrators, who took shelter from the bombardment in Private Lynch's room, believing that he would be safe.

He was seized and taken with the US soldiers on their helicopter to their base, where he was held for three days in an open-air prison camp.

"When he left his skin was the colour of yours," another doctor, Mahmud, said. "When he came back, he was black."

Bizarrely, the rescuers cut open a special bed, designed for patients with bed sores, which had been provided for Private Lynch's use.

"They took samples of sand out of it," Dr Harith said. "It was the only bed like it that we have, the only one in the governorate."

Today, the hospital struggles on without adequate supplies of drugs and without running water or mains electricity.

"There are two faces to Americans," Dr Harith said. "One is freedom and democracy, and giving kids sweets. The other is killing and hating my people. So I am very confused. I feel sad because I will never see Jessica again, and I feel happy because she is happy and has gone back to her life. If I could speak to her I would say: 'Congratulations!'"

homepage: homepage: http://www.timesonline.co.uk/article/0,,5944-648517,00.html

Why? 28.Apr.2003 20:39


This was posted awhile back and is dated April 16th. Why repost it?

Honest to God, this isn't an attack or anything. I don't want to start a flame war. I just don't understand why this popped up again.

It was on Democracy Now! 28.Apr.2003 21:18

Leroy Brown

There was a pretty good interview about it today.

I doesn't hurt to remind people how much the government lies.

The war coverage was such rubbish.

pvt. lynch's doc agrees its rubbish 29.Apr.2003 09:00

I. Protest

Anyone give a hoot about the opinion of the man who patched up the brave Pvt. Lynch? He seems to think news coverage of the war is sanitized rubbish. (Must be different to actually have to try to clean up after a liberation, than watching it as a spectator sport?)


Area surgeon aids troops
Boulder man operated on recently rescued POW in Germany

By Lisa Marshall, Camera Staff Writer
April 5, 2003

Friday morning: 57 dead; 16 missing; 7 captured.

The daily White House press briefings and fuzzy real-time TV reports fall far short of conveying the brutality of war, says Boulder neurosurgeon Gene Bolles.

Bolles spent Thursday hunched over an operating table at Germany's Landstuhl Regional Medical Center, repairing the broken back of Army Pfc. Jessica Lynch, who was rescued from an Iraqi hospital this week. The 19-year-old soldier will require aggressive rehabilitation, Bolles said, but is expected to recover well one success story in a war full of tragedy.

"It really is disgustingly sanitized on television," said Bolles, who has spent the last 16 months as chief of neurosurgery at Landstuhl, the destination for the war's most wounded soldiers.

As of Friday, 281 patients had been brought to Landstuhl since Operation Iraqi Freedom started, and plane-loads are arriving regularly.

"We have had a number of really horrific injuries now from the war. They have lost arms, legs, hands, they have been burned, they have had significant brain injuries and peripheral nerve damage. These are young kids that are going to be, in some regards, changed for life. I don't feel that people realize that."

Bolles, 66, had a private practice in Boulder for 32 years before taking the job at Landstuhl. The U.S. military was short on neurosurgeons after Sept. 11, 2001 having scaled down its medical staff in response to a shrinking troop population in the '90s and was looking for an experienced civilian doctor willing to work as a contractor for a few years, said Lt. Colonel Bill Monacci, consultant to the Army Surgeon General for neurosurgery.

Bolles, a self-described "pacifist," found his patriotic juices flowing in the aftermath of the terrorist attacks, so he postponed his retirement and took the job to help out with Operation Enduring Freedom, the war on terrorism in Afghanistan.

"I was looking for any way to help out," said Bolles. "Not to fight a war necessarily, but to help out."

He is one of only a handful of civilian doctors among the mostly military staff at Landstuhl, the largest military hospital outside the United States. Until this week, he was the only neurosurgeon, taking anyone with back, neck, spine or head injuries.

While Monacci said he thinks the number of wounded has been relatively low given the scope of the war, Bolles has handled an increasingly heavy workload exceptionally well, he said.

"It is a tough situation. He probably thought it was going to be a bit of a slow-down from his practice, but I imagine it is a little busier than he planned for," Monacci said

Bolles said despite media images that may lead the public to believe otherwise, he and the other doctors at Landstuhl have been busy for months.

Before the war began, the hospital already had treated 300 U.S. soldiers from Kuwait and surrounding areas, wounded in car accidents, windstorms and during training exercises. A brutal sandstorm landed five soldiers on Bolles' operating table. The wind blew a tent pole through the skull of one soldier and toppled heavy equipment onto another, fracturing his spine, he said.

Still affected by the carnage he saw as a division flight surgeon during the Vietnam War, Bolles said he is particularly troubled by the injuries he has seen coming from Operation Iraqi Freedom, a war he doesn't necessarily support.

"I am opposed to any war," he said. "I am doing what I am doing because I am a doctor, not because I have a political agenda."

He spent three hours in the operating room one morning last week removing bullet fragments, blood and brain matter from two young soldiers who each had been shot in the head. One will recover nicely, Bolles said; the other will have permanent neurological damage.

Another of his patients, wounded in a grenade battle, died on the operating table.

"These are young children; 18, 19, 20 with arms and legs blown off. That is the reality," said Bolles.

Lt. Col. John Ogle, a Longmont emergency room doctor and flight surgeon for the National Guard, agrees that the public is not always given an accurate count of military injuries. But he says that is because an accurate number is often hard to come by: What exactly constitutes wounded?

"I would not call the war coverage sanitized," he said. "Everybody knows that there are casualties over there, mostly Iraqi. What has not been stressed enough is what it was like in the previous 12 years of Saddam's regime."

As things heat up on the battlefield, Bolles' workload is getting heavier.

Soldiers arrive daily in C-141 transport planes after the eight-hour flight from Iraq: 46 on Friday, 39 today, 38 on Sunday, 25 on Monday.

To brace for the flood of patients, the hospital has doubled its capacity to 322 beds and called up 600 medical reservists, including two more neurosurgeons. Bolles admitted four new patients Friday and was preparing to go back into the emergency room that night.

"The feeling here originally was, this is going to be over in a couple days," Bolles said.

His work is rewarding: He recently received a letter from a soldier who suffered a severe brain injury in a bomb blast in Afghanistan a few months ago. He'd recovered well and is getting married.

Working on the recently rescued Pfc. Lynch, who is not much older than Bolles' own daughter, was particularly rewarding, yet troubling.

"Nineteen years old and she's out there carrying a big gun," he said.

His assignment with Landstuhl should expire within a year or two, but Bolles has no plans to retire. Instead, he's looking into signing up with the relief agency Doctors without Borders.

"I could feel just as needed if I were in Iraq taking care of the people there who needed my services," he said.


(sorry if it's a report, it's disappearing from other URLs, probably written in vanishing ink...)

And what about Pvt. Lori?



"For the last week America has been gripped by the 'Saving Private Jessica' mission. But nobody wanted to hear the sadder story of her friend and tentmate Private Lori Piestewa, who died in combat. Gary Younge reports from her home town of Tuba City, Arizona.

This is the tale of two privates. They were sisters-in-arms - two young women fighting for Uncle Sam. They were roommates at Fort Bliss military base in Texas; tentmates in the Gulf, and close friends at all places in between. Then they (and 13 other members of the US Army's 507th Maintenance Company) took a wrong turn in the southern Iraqi city of Nassiriya and were ambushed. One, Jessica Lynch, 19, was injured, hospitalised and then rescued by Special Forces to emerge as the poster girl for American resilience and camaraderie. The other, Lori Piestewa, 23, was killed, with the gruesome distinction of being the first native American in the US army to be killed in combat and the only American servicewoman to die in this war."