‘Nothing was done’ - Army News | News from Afghanistan & Iraq - Army Times

‘Nothing was done’

The grenade clanked off the Humvee turret and then dropped inside. The explosion drove shrapnel into every limb of Staff Sgt. Ian Newland’s body. Hours after the incident, he arrived at Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Germany.

Every soldier believes that if he makes it to an Army hospital, he’s going to be treated to the best care.

But just two days later, Dec. 6, 2006, the hospital sent Newland home — doped up on morphine, his left hand a useless claw, and nerve damage so bad to his left leg he could barely walk.

“They told me they needed the bed,” said Newland, who then lived in Schweinfurt, headquarters of 1st Infantry Division.

He was not told when he was discharged that a scan showed he also had suffered traumatic brain injury, and so did not understand why he stuttered, had blurry vision and experienced short-term memory loss.

There was no homecoming for this wounded soldier, who arrived from Iraq with a Purple Heart pinned to his blanket. He had no key to his house, so the fire department broke in for him — and later sent a bill for the job.

And when he finally got inside his house, it was empty — his wife, Erin, was in the States for Thanksgiving, unaware that her husband had been seriously wounded in combat.

“I didn’t even get a call from the unit,” Erin Newland said. “Before I left, I gave the unit all my phone numbers, but they didn’t call.”

She was shopping in a Wal-Mart in Minnesota when Ian’s aunt called her: “He’s been in an accident. You need to call his dad.”

She immediately tried to get back to Germany. But tickets for her and her two toddlers would cost $6,000. She contacted the Army and requested to be put on the priority list for a space-available flight.

“They told me I had to have a commander’s note,” she said. She would spend days getting back to Germany — the unit never did send the paperwork she needed for the priority list. At home, Ian dug through a bag the nurses had sent with him, hoping for a prescription for pain medicine and directions for care. He found a shaving kit and no further information.

“When the pain got so bad it was intolerable, I went to the health clinic,” he said. “They said, ‘There’s a phone right there. You need to make an appointment.’”

It would be a week before anyone could see him at the clinic in Schweinfurt.

“I pulled the Spec-4 through the window and threw him on the floor,” Newland said. “They told me I had mental health issues. But there was no psychiatrist [in Schweinfurt]. I was like, ‘I’m bleeding in your clinic here.’”

Newland informed his command he planned to blow up the health clinic. That got an ear.

“I went straight to the Schweinfurt commander,” he said, describing all the shortcomings he and fellow wounded had endured in trying to get proper medical care.

“I told them, ‘You know my guys are in a high-conflict area. You’ve got guys living in the barracks in wheelchairs,’” he said. “I skipped every chain of command possible.” Still, he said, “nothing was done.”

Newland took it upon himself to care for the wounded at Conn Barracks in Schweinfurt, keeping their appointments marked on a dry-erase board. But his own issues soon took over. He went to Washington, D.C., for the funeral of Spc. Ross McGinnis, at Arlington National Cemetery. McGinnis, a fellow member of Charlie Company, 1st Battalion, 26th Infantry Regiment, had thrown himself on a grenade, saving Newland and three others in the Humvee. For that, McGinnis has been nominated for a Medal of Honor.

“When I got back from Arlington, I was suicidal,” Newland said, explaining he felt guilty about McGinnis’ loss. “I called the health clinic and asked if I could check myself in. They told me to go to the German emergency room.”

Finally, he said, the Army medical system hooked him up with a civilian social worker — who specialized in families and kids.

“I told her about the bodies we found in Adhamiya, and she started crying,” Newland said. “I called the mental health commander and I went nuts. ‘When 1-26 gets back, if you don’t have a plethora of mental health options, you’re going to have problems.’”

Newland said the Army then sent him to group therapy. It consisted of him and one other person. The other guy, not a combat veteran, said he couldn’t relate at all and stopped going. So did Newland.

Then, he said, he went to the 5th Corps commander at the time, Lt. Gen. James Thurman. Newland’s concerns were forwarded to the Schweinfurt health clinic, but this time under authority of 5th Corps.

“The context of Ian’s complaints were very appropriate,” said Maj. Daniel Ducker, health clinic commander. “We thought, ‘Let’s take action.’”

Because of Newland’s complaints, and because of the scandal at Walter Reed Army Medical Center that showed injured soldiers across the States were not being properly cared for, Ducker said, Schweinfurt received a social-work case manager to schedule wounded soldiers’ appointments and ensure they get the help they need. The case manager has a background in traumatic brain injuries and post-traumatic stress disorder, two common conditions soldiers face as they return from Iraq. Meanwhile, the medical command formed a warrior transition brigade, as was being done Army-wide, with soldiers who specifically look after the dozens of injured soldiers in Schweinfurt and the rest of Germany.

And the Schweinfurt health clinic added another physical therapist and one full-time psychologist.

“We never had them before,” Ducker said. “Now we have a full staff.”

Rear detachment commander Capt. Jacob White said that as 1-26 members went through tough times in Adhamiya, they started getting what they needed in Schweinfurt. And 1-26 officials started keeping better track of the wounded by keeping a liaison at the hospital.

“They get a copy of the manifest, so they know when our guys are coming in,” he said. “And there are no more guys in wheelchairs in the barracks.”

Lt. Col Bob Whittle, Task Force Guardian — or rear detachment — commander for the 1st Infantry Division, said Newland caused a lot of change.

“Ian was early in the deployment,” he said. “It was a symptom of an issue, and they fixed it.”

But for Newland, it was too late. With his wounds, he could have reclassified into a desk job and stayed in the military.

He left the Army and now lives in Colorado, where he plans to go to school.

“I was just so down,” he said. “I loved the Army. But after the way I was treated, I was done.”

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