By Lieutenant Colonel Robert L. Burton, USMC (Ret.)
First Lieutenant Amelia Reynolds, a resilient and resourceful Army nurse, moved with purpose through the dense foliage of the jungle, her boots crunching softly against the forest floor. She was leading a small group, the weight of responsibility heavy on her shoulders. On the Autonomous Casualty Extraction Platform (ACEP), a robotic medical litter her team was escorting, rested a young, sedated Marine, sole survivor of an artillery barrage on his squad. Lance Corporal Jameson’s condition was stabilized but critical, his breaths shallow and labored.
“Keep moving, everyone,” she called out, her voice firm yet laced with concern. “We need to reach the ambulance exchange point before the tide comes in.”
As they pressed forward, navigating through the labyrinth of vegetation, Lieutenant Reynolds couldn’t shake the weight of their precarious situation. They were deep behind enemy lines, constantly at risk of detection by enemy sensors and drones. Every few days, sometimes more frequent, the Joint Combat Support Clinic (JCSC) she was attached to would displace and reestablish a new position several kilometers away, seeking to outmaneuver the enemy’s dragnet. The clinic was only a Role 1 facility, typically responsible for the initial treatment of casualties after evacuation from the battle, and manned by medical professionals from the Army, Air Force, and Navy. However, the character of this jungle conflict demanded a more distributed battlefield where formations down to the platoon level were often disaggregated to avoid targeting from the enemy’s immense intelligence collection apparatus.
Consequently, the JCSC was highly mobile and forced to provide prolonged care for days and even weeks before casualties could be evacuated to more capable facilities, much longer than the “golden hour” standard that many had become accustomed to in previous conflicts. Thus, missions such as this one were opportunistic and not regularly scheduled. When an operational window presented itself, every effort was made to evacuate the highest-priority casualties.
“We need to pick up the pace,” she urged, her senses on high alert.
An older and weathered island native named Anak, nodded in agreement. “We’re almost there, Lieutenant. Just a bit farther.” Anak, and many others from his village, often served as guides during these evacuations. Due to the enemy’s intense electronic jamming coupled with the heavy jungle canopy, global positioning systems receivers were not reliable for navigation. The clinic made sure to treat villagers who themselves had become victims of the enemy’s ruthless bombardments.
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Lieutenant Reynolds had endeared herself to Anak when she treated his young daughter who had fallen ill. He reluctantly approached her during one visit when her team was dropping off valuable medical supplies. In the early days of the conflict, his village was not sure if the American forces were sincere or had nefarious motives. Up until then, most of their knowledge about Americans originated from the enemy’s forces on the island. They were told grim and terrible stories about the Americans’ intentions for his people that ranged from enslavement to genocide. While Reynold’s was offloading some water bottles from her vehicle during that first visit, he observed her from a safe distance. When some of the children swarmed her, he watched as she kneeled down to their level, with an infectious smile, asking their names and later dancing and playing games with them.
Convinced that she harbored no ill intentions from the genuine joy expressed upon her face, he finally approached her and asked if she could help. She immediately grabbed her medical gear and followed him into his house. She rapidly examined his daughter and begin treating her. The seriousness in which she handled her, running back to her vehicle for additional medicines and sprinting back, proved to him his instincts had been correct. Reynolds was not only trustworthy, but the Americans had no evil intentions for his people. They were here to help, he thought.
His daughter’s condition rapidly improved over the following weeks, and Lieutenant Reynolds always made it a point to check on her when she visited. From that point on, Anak and his fellow villagers often volunteered their assistance guiding her and other American medical teams through the treacherous jungles. It was the least they could do to repay for the Americans’ efforts on their behalf.
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Suddenly, a crackling sound echoed through the trees, followed by the distant whir of rotor blades. Lieutenant Reynolds’s heart raced as she instinctively motioned for her team to take cover.
“Drones,” she whispered urgently, her grip tightening on her rifle.
With practiced efficiency, her security team sprang into action, setting up a makeshift camouflage tarp to shield themselves from prying eyes. Sergeant Ramirez crouched low beside the robotic litter carrier and casualty, his eyes fixed on the horizon. His team of combat engineers were critical to the clinic’s security. In addition to the firepower they brought along, they emplaced defensive measures such as mines, helped set up the clinic’s temporary sites, and cleared the enemy’s obstacles whenever encountered.
Lieutenant Reynolds felt a surge of gratitude for their unwavering dedication. Despite the constant peril facing them, they remained steadfast in their mission to save Lance Corporal Jameson’s life.
“Keep an eye on the perimeter,” she instructed, her voice steady despite the thick tension in the air. “We can’t afford to be detected.”
For what seemed an eternity, they remained hidden beneath the canopy, their breaths held in anticipation. Finally, the distant hum of the drones faded into the distance, leaving behind an eerie silence. Before they shed their camouflage, Lieutenant Reynolds took advantage of the tarp’s electromagnetic shielding properties to quickly assess her patient’s vitals. The tarp created a Faraday Cage effect which prevented any electronic signals from escaping, reducing the risk of compromise by any electromagnetic sensors the drone may have carried.
Her fingers flew over the touchscreen of a small device attached to the front of her armored plate carrier, dictating and updating the casualty care plan.
“Lance Corporal Jameson requires continuous monitoring of his vitals. Ensure the IV lines are secured and the walking blood bank, Sergeant Ramirez, stays close.”
Sergeant Ramirez, a combat engineer with a stoic demeanor, nodded in acknowledgment. His eyes scanned their surroundings, ever vigilant for signs of danger.
“We’re clear,” Sergeant Ramirez declared, his voice a low murmur.
With a collective sigh of relief, they resumed their journey, the urgency of their mission driving them forward. As they neared the ambulance exchange point on the beach, Lieutenant Reynolds’ mind raced with logistics and contingencies.
“Prepare the field blood transfusion kit,” she directed, her voice ringing out above the rustle of leaves. “We’ll need to administer another dose of O-negative blood before we transfer Lance Corporal Jameson to the ALPV.”
Specialist Alvarez, an Army medic, nodded in understanding, his hands already moving to assemble the necessary equipment, while Sergeant Ramirez, the walking blood bank, slung his rifle and rolled up his sleeves. Having the distinction of being a universal blood donor, his presence was critical to the team’s survival in more ways than one.
A technique honed by special operations units, but used as far back as World War I, the O-low titer protocol, or OLO, allows for rapid blood transfusions on the battlefield. Blood is drawn from a pre-identified universal donor then transferred to the casualty while the donor returns to combat. The whole procedure is usually completed in under ten minutes and enhances the patient’s survivability, especially when time is precious. In austere environments like this island’s jungles, refrigeration units for storing blood and medicines are luxuries, particularly for highly mobile medical clinics keen on avoiding detection and minimizing their footprint.
Working in tandem, Specialist Alvarez began drawing blood from Sergeant Ramirez while Lieutenant Reynolds prepped the unconscious Marine. After filling an intravenous bag with about a liter of the donor’s lifesaving blood, Reynolds’ attention was drawn away from her patient by a rumbling in the distance. The source of the thunder was clearly explosive in nature but difficult to determine if from an artillery impact, air-dropped munitions, or an improvised explosive device. Furthermore, whether it was a friendly or enemy action was also indeterminant. But one thing was clear – this jungle was not a permissive environment. A quick glance at her soldiers’ faces showed the grave reality had registered for them as well, and no words were necessary to drive that fact home. They quickly transfused the patient with the fresh blood, packed up their kit, and continued their movement.
Finally, they emerged from the jungle and reach a rugged beach where the ALPV, or Autonomous Low-Profile Vessel, awaited them in the shallow waters. Its sleek silhouette, mostly submerged, mimicked that of the clandestine vessels used by South American cartels to smuggle drugs. Its sight served as a beacon of hope amidst the chaos of war that was currently raging across the islands. With practiced precision, they guided the wounded Marine and the ACEP on to the vessel.
Lieutenant Reynolds felt a surge of relief wash over her as she watched the ALPV disappear into the horizon like a torpedo scraping the ocean’s surface. Its destination was the USNS Bethesda hospital ship waiting offshore. Despite the countless obstacles they had faced, they had succeeded in their mission to save one man’s life. Once recovered aboard the Bethesda, the Marine’s odds of survival would improve dramatically.
As they began the arduous journey back through the jungle, Lieutenant Reynolds couldn’t help but marvel at her team’s resilience. In the face of adversity, they had risen to the challenge. And though the path ahead remained uncertain, she knew they would continue to defy the odds. It was the bonds of camaraderie and the spirit of selflessness that truly defined them as warriors. She understood in that moment that the future of this conflict would be resolved not by technical advantages or weapons overmatch. But by the troops on the ground, facing the trials together while united in a shared mission to uphold the values of honor, duty, and loyalty.
And with that thought guiding her forward, Lieutenant Amelia Reynolds pressed on into the dark, tangled vines, her heart filled with hope for the future and the resolve to save more lives.
LtCol Robert L. Burton retired from the Marine Corps in 2021. A career tank officer, Robert continues to serve in the national security profession as a strategic planner focused on developing solutions to future warfare challenges. He is a graduate of the U.S. Naval Academy, U.S. Army School of Advanced Military Studies, U.S. Army War College (Superior Graduate), and the University of Mississippi.
Featured Image: Artwork made with Midjourney AI.