Chapter 4 Recovery in Kuwait
The burning trucks brought the Kuwait border patrol to investigate. One Bedouin man survived though badly injure. Most of the women and children survived as they ran from the camp. Disabling the vehicles prevented the invaders from going after the women and children. The only women killed where two elderly ones too infirmed to run. They died along with the goats when the trucks exploded.
I woke up in a hospital intensive care unit. I felt like a science experiment with all the tubes and electronics devices attached to me. I had no idea of I still had two legs and arms as I was drugged higher than Carlos Manoso was many New Years ago. How could I face Fernando after getting his nephew killed?
Time meant nothing, there were no windows to watch the sunshine and night, just endless beeps and suction. At some point I was aware a Kuwaiti Colonel was sitting next to me.
"I am Colonel Samaha, Kuwaiti intelligence. I'm here to determine who you are and why you were with Bedouins in my country."
Well, at least I wasn't back in Iraq. My name tag was in the incinerated canyon. Knowing Manoso was dead and my own Army wanted me dead, I faked confusion to keep from identifying myself. It wasn't hard; I could barely indicate "Yes" and "No."
On the third day of interrogation the Colonel forbid pain medication giving my mind a chance to clear. It was truly a rude, but necessary awakening.
"From your camo pants, rifle, and your fitness level, I assume you are US Army. Is that correct?
Yes, I nodded.
"Are you a deserter?"
No, I nodded.
"I have not sent your finger prints to the US Army, is there a reason I should wait?"
YES! My enthusiasm darn near knocked me back unconscious from the pain it brought.
Oh boy did I have a story for him! The doctors said my condition was deteriorating due to infections, my time was limited; I might as well hurry the process along with a death bed confession. From the pain and smell, I didn't think they were lying.
I couldn't talk for the tubes. This would be interesting. He had an iPad and slowly with one finger I pecked out answers.
"Please identify yourself," he asked.
I slowly typed, corrected, and typed my identification.
"Major, why were you with Bedouins?"
"long story…arms theft"
"Who?" He asked.
"i think army officer…s"
"How did you come by this information?" He asked.
"i work intel," I typed.
"How long have you been investigating?"
"5 mos"
"Who is your commander?" He asked.
"no, one may be invol" was all I could type.
"You suspect someone in Intel?"
I nodded yes. For a moment I remembered the Kuwait labeled grenades. Was I talking to someone part of this operation?
"U friend or foe?" I typed.
He read my question and looked at me showing no emotion. The pain was returning big time, I was getting sweaty.
I typed, "They kill me."
He read it. "They tried to kill you?"
I nodded yes
"Who?"
"army" I typed. That was it. I was nauseous from pain, the room spun, and couldn't go on. The doctor came in with the pain meds and I floated off into LaLa land.
The next session, whenever it occurred, the colonel sat down and said, "Major Mitch Jenkins, Lt. Colonel James Wright, Colonel Randolph Nichols, and General Gerald Whittsburg."
I nodded. Those were the officers above me in Intel. I still didn't know if he was friend or foe and was afraid. A tear escaped my eye.
"You are crying, why?"
I tapped the iPad…"fear."
His head tipped, "Fear of what?"
"you, traitors, dying"
He shook his head, "Your life is not in my hands, that belongs to the doctors and Allah, may He be merciful. As for the traitors, it is my job to find them and keep them from you."
I gave him a questioning look.
"We've known for some time armaments are being stolen from us, we have our own ongoing investigation, but have been blocked from further investigation by someone in your Army. We are hoping you will bring us more information."
I wasn't sure it was true, but he was right about dying, it wasn't in my hands either. I might as well go out with an explanation. I nodded I was ready.
Why are you in Kuwait?
I typed, "long story…assign 2 talk 2 amir almata but aircraft flew south." How long ago was that? It seemed like years.
"Why," He asked.
Ask the crew I wanted to say, but couldn't. "maybe crew part of arm deal, eliminate me"
Were you alone?
Cripes, didn't they find Manoso's body? "No, cpt. rc manoso, dead under rocks" I hoped he understood my cryptic typing.
Over the next 2 weeks while I was on a trach-tube my iPad interrogations continued. When unhooked from one tube I was able to speak, barely, but was able to converse. I asked the colonel if he had contacted my superiors. He answer was strange, "We are handling it."
The interrogations went on. There were several surgeries in there and recovery where I received reprieve from questioning. Surely Colonel Samaha thought the whole deal was something out of a James Patterson novel. I expected Army MPs would have me shackled to my bed any day now. Heck, I survived bailing out of the C140 in a sand storm, Al Muthanna, and was blown up by a grenade; I was living on borrowed time anyway.
Six months passed and I was still in Kuwait. I had been moved from the hospital to a palatial rehab facility. I only saw and talked with Kuwaiti staff. They spoke no English so my Arabic was being fined tuned. I saw no other patients. There were no visits from a US ambassador, no military, no military police, nothing. I wasn't sure anybody but Kuwaitis knew I was here and I was in no hurry let anyone know I was alive. At times I wondered if indeed I was alive and not in some transitional place, a rest stop before Hades.
One morning Colonel Samaha came with a US Army Lt. Colonel I recognized from Intel. After a whole day of questions the American Colonel said, "Major, as you've probably figured out by now, you are under protective custody by the Kuwaitis."
"Custody as in I will be arrested?" I asked. "Was I kept alive so you could finish pumping me for information to protecting the traitors and sending me to Leavenworth?" I was mad and began moving towards the windows. "Maybe you would prefer me by the window so your snipers can finish the job."
The Lt. Colonel sighed, "Poor word choices. You are under the care and protection of the Kuwaitis."
Colonel Samaha was on his feet moving towards me. "Please Major Castillo, please sit down," he said as he took my hand. I looked down at his hand and he quickly let go. I believe that was the first time he ever touched me.
The Lt. Colonel continued, "You probably think I came here to return you to Iraq. On the contrary, your investigation and information has been crucial in cleaning up a major armament debacle stretching from Turkey to Kuwait. The information you gave Colonel Samaha months ago allowed Kuwaiti intelligence and us to identify the traitors and dismantle illegal organization. Arrests are in progress. In talking with your doctors, the Colonel here, and other sources who do not wish to be identified, we've decided to declare you unfit for service. Papers will be prepared that upon further medical review of our choosing, you will be given the option of leaving service with a medical discharge. I seriously suggest you take it."
I must have had the "What the Hell" look on my face. This was not how one left the Army. I knew my career was dead, but this was like "dump her out the backdoor."
The American Lt. Colonel continued, "Colonel Nichols, General Whittsburgh, and associates in three countries have been arrested. Your excellent records, though originally destroyed by persons unknown, but restored by Sargent Carson ae allowing investigators to quickly assemble a case including the deaths of Captain Manoso, the C140 flight crew, and you."
I was confused. "Death? I think I'm still alive."
"For a while, until we believe we have identified everybody, it would be better if some think you are gone, at least until the paper work catches up and trials begin."
That could take years, I thought. Would I have to remain here? I didn't want to think about the implications of being declared dead. Would I ever return home? Did I even have a home or is everything in probate?