A local Iraq war veteran is trying to make sure people who go to treat the wounded are ready for what they will see

LEWISTON – For frightening moments, the whoop-whoop-whoop of a LifeFlight helicopter returns Brian Landry to Iraq.

“I hate the sound,” he said.

For a year, the oncoming sound of the rotor blades meant more wounded men, more patients to strip naked and rush into tiny operating rooms. It meant little sleep, cries and unending blood.

At home in Lewiston, the momentary fear passes quickly, like the helicopter flying past his office window at Central Maine Medical Center. As the program director of the hospital’s rehabilitation center, Landry has plenty to keep his mind busy.

Part of him remains in Iraq, though.

From September 2006 until October 2007 the Army Reserve captain helped run a combat hospital in Tikrit. He saw thousands of patients.

And it’s them – or patients like them – that Landry has been trying to help since he returned home. He has created a mentoring program through his Auburn-based reserve unit, the 399th Combat Support Hospital, to give real-life training to medics before they go to Iraq.

Its goal: cope with the fear that comes with working with injured patients, with seeing their wounds and treating them quickly.

Landry witnessed it again and again in Iraq, when new people arrived at the hospital.

“You saw uncertainty, fear and unknowing,” he said. “It lasted for their first few traumas.”

It strained manpower that was already strained by long hours (an ideal work week lasted six 12-hour days), extreme heat that sometimes topped 140 degrees, sandstorms and the sudden arrival of wounded.

“Sometimes we’d go days with no one,” Landry said. “Then, there would be days and nights that were endless.”

If some of the fear can be offset with a little exposure back home, it’s worth it, he said.

Within the new program, new medics will be brought into Central Maine Medical Center during drill weekends to watch the care in the emergency room and elsewhere, Landry said. They will also help treat patients at Togus VA Hospital outside Augusta.

For some, it may be their only contact with real patients before arriving in Iraq.

“You practice with mannequins, but you’re not working with live patients,” Landry said.

“Just imagine,” he said. “You work at Wal-Mart, and you train one weekend a month and two weeks in the summer.”

Before being deployed, medics typically receive two months or more of additional training, he said.

“Then, you’re in Iraq,” he said.

Any exposure to injuries, medical terminology or treatments ought to make it easier for the newbies when the first injured people arrive.

“You hear the bird is coming in with six or eight soldiers,” Landry said. “And you go to work.”

At the hospital in Tikrit, part of a U.S. base known as Camp Speicher, Landry managed all admissions. He also followed patients through the hospital, processing them as they returned to their units or moved on to Army hospitals in Europe and the United States.

Often, he was one of the first people wounded soldiers met when they arrived.

Though he was an administrator, he often worked with patients, running out to meet the landing helicopters.

One of the first duties was to strip everyone down behind an outdoor barricade. If soldiers carried grenades or other explosives, they would be removed in a place that couldn’t cripple the hospital if they accidentally exploded. It also served as a safeguard against insurgents, who along with Iraqi military, were often treated at the 28-bed hospital, too.

Only the guards entered the hospital with guns. Everyone else, even Landry, checked his weapon at the door.

Inside, the hospital was built to care for people in a hurry.

Five minutes or less is the new target for trauma treatment, he said. Every soldier carries a tourniquet. Every one knows how to use it.

Amputations, severe burns and head injuries were common. The hospital staff had an X-ray and CT Scan. They did what they could until transport could be arranged to a modern, western hospital.

The average stay was 72 hours.

During his year there, Landry earned a Bronze Star for his service.

According to his citation, procedures he used for tracking patients – particularly Iraqis – were adopted at hospitals throughout Iraq.

“He leveraged various command and control information technologies, increasing the hospital’s reaction time to receive, triage and admit casualties resulting in more immediate care for wounded or sick soldiers,” stated the citation. “His coordination of hospital assets, including 210 soldiers, non-commissioned officers and officers, led to the provision of world class, life-saving medical care.”

Landry is proud of the honor. But too many men and women never get noticed, he said.

“Better men than me did more than me,” he said.

Working on the program to prepare new soldiers helps adjust to a chaotic return home. He divorced his wife of 11 years only eight days after returning home.

He took over as the director of CMMC’s rehabilitation center on Jan. 1.

“I’m doing well,” he said. But his life feels a little flat, he said.

“Over there, you have very (big) lows and very (big) highs,” he said. “The sense of purpose and mission is huge. And you know the soldier beside you has your back.

“When you come back here, no one has your back,” he said.