"Untold Stories from Iraq & Afghanistan" A Graphic Novel

HOW TO LOSE YOUR SOUL

written by Tomm Gabbard

based on an True story from  Sgt First class CJ Grisham

page #1

splash page

we see an old car smashing into the side of a tank

the glass windows shatter as bullets riddle the vehicle.

smoke and steam billow from under the hood and out from the undercarraige.

no fire or explosion is visible

(helpful photo reference should be found on the web, for what make and model of car is common in irak)

caption #1 - i believe that war is an inhumane act.

it forces people to become animals.

caption #2 - don't get me wrong, i'm no pacifist.

unfortunately, war is sometimes necessary.

caption #3 - this story isn't pretty, it doesn't have a hero,

just a human being forced to make a difficult decision...

caption #4 - but i'm afraid that i made the wrong choice.

page #2

panel #1

we see a young soldier firing his weapon from a foxhole he shares with two other men.

caption #1 - march 26 2003 : the day i lost my soul

caption #2 - we were fighting a poorly trained, though very determined enemy.

my ears rang with the whistling sound that precedes the thunderous boom of an artillary shell nearby.

panel #2

the three soldiers duck down into thier foxhole as an explosion rocks the ground near them

caption #1 - the concussion literally steals the very breath from your lungs.

caption #2 - the stale odor of smoke and explosives fills your nose and throat.

panel #3

a ground level view of the top of the young soldiers head (helmet and eyes) peering out over the edge of the foxhole.

caption #1 - the fight had only just begun.

caption #2 - before the day had ended, i would abandone my values, and lose my soul.

panel #4

a view from behind the three soldiers as they raise thier heads up out of the hole,

a smoking crater can be seen not too far away.

off in the distance, a small flash can be seen. bullets still fly everywhere.

caption #1 - the air was thick with bullets

caption #2 - in the distance was a flash of light.

panel #5

a mortar shell spirals towards the men, a trail of smoke outlining its path

caption #1 - whistling as it tore through the air, another mortar seemed to have our names on it.

panel #6

the three men drop back down into the hole, as our main character shouts

grisham - INCOMING!!!

caption - we covered our faces with our hands, in moments like this, instinct is to minimize one's presence. and fetal position seems to achieve this goal most effectively.

sound fx - KATINK TINK TINK!

page #3

panel #1

the men rise once again to thier feet, and find a smoking mortar shell lying just a few feet from the mouth of thier foxhole

caption - a dud.

panel #2

the men climb out of thier foxhole, men are running everywhere, shouting, confused, scared.

caption #1 - a loud crash rang out in the distance, and our radios came to life.

caption #2 - everyone shouted over each other, trying to sort out what was happening.

panel #3

we see an older more seasoned soldier (the commander) taking charge, shouting orders to the other men.

caption - the commander ordered everyone to shut up, and calm down.

being good soldiers, we followed our orders.

panel #4

(a worms eye view)

we see the men flinch back, and or glance upward as a mortar shell flashes past, just over head

SOUND FX - WHOOOOOOSHHHH!!

caption #1 - a blur flashed past, just over our heads, leaving a black trail of smoke in its wake.

caption #2 - the rpg had come and gone before we could even react, the shooter was quickly eliminated.

caption #3 - i was getting sick of these close calls.

panel #5

we are looking over the shoulder of grisham as he looks forward into the clouds of dust and sand,

at three small figures (in sillouette) stumble towards them.

caption #1 - we had been told that a car had slammed into one of our tanks, beginning this latest fire fight.

caption #2 - the car had failed to detonate on impact, and had quickly been shoved to the side of the road, where it exploded without casualties.

panel #6

as the three figures draw closer, we see that two of the men carry the third, propped on thier shoulders, they appear to be insurgants, two are younger men, one is bleeding from the shoulder,

the third man (the figure in the center) is older, and seems the most badly injured. his left hand is all but gone, and is bleeding badly. his legs are bloody, and his pants are shredded.

caption - the three former occupants of the car, stumbled towards my position.

page #4

panel #1

we get a full view of the three men, as they reach grisham.

caption #1 - i stared down the barrel of my weapon at the the three men.

caption #2 - dressed in common iraqi clothing, baggy tan pants, dirty brown shoes,

one seemed unhurt, the second had taken a few shots to his shoulder,

panel #2

we close in to a shot of the older mans face, blood spattered, with an expression of fear, and pain.

caption - the third man seemed to be the oldest, and was in the worse shape.

panel #3

one of the younger men, cradles the old mans injured arm, a makeshift tourniqet has been placed around his forearm, but blood still flows from his ruined left hand.

bones jut from it like the quills of a porcupine. only two fingers remain. the rest is mangled and bloody.

caption - propped between the two younger men, he was barely able to keep his head up.

knees buckling beneath his bloody shredded pants.

panel #4

close up of the man's pained wrinkled face,

caption #1 - his leathery face attempted a weak smile, his defeated brown eye's, wordlessly calling out to me for help

caption #2 - my training was very specific, i was to provide first aid and or assistance to anyone that needed it.

caption #3 - and this old man needed it!

panel #5

grisham, still aiming his weapon at the three men, shouts angrily at them.

soldiers run arount in the background, still firing at the enemy, explosions go off in the distance.

caption #1 - bullets whizzed back and forth all around us,

the old man begged for help. they claimed no knowledge of where the attack was originating.

page #5

panel #1

the three insurgants and grisham all duck as another rpg blurs past them.

caption #1 - i was greeted with silence upon asking , why they had rammed our tank?

SOUND FX - whoooooshhhh!

caption #2 - then another near miss, from an rpg

panel #2

the young soldier (grisham) grabs the injured old man by his shirt, hate and anger in his eyes,

fear and pain in the old mans expression.

caption - my face reddened, my pulse quickened, blood pressure climbed.

i didn't care if this old man bled out, right then and there!

panel #3

pointing his weapon at the three men with one hand, the young soldier points down a nearby road with his other hand.

caption #1 - for the first time in this war, i refused medical care to an injured man.

caption #2 - i ordered the men to keep moving down the road, find help elsewhere.

panel #4

grisham turns away, a look of disgust on his face, as the men stumble off into the distance

caption #1 - a decision, i believe i paid for, with my soul.

caption #2 - my body, now a hollow shell, returned to it's position, emptying my weapon in the direction of the enemy fire.

panel #5

a close up view of grisham's angry face, as he fires his weapon. a single tear is visible in the corner of one eye.

caption #1 - for the remainder of my time in irak, i thought about that old man.

had he made it to safety? or was his blood on my hands?

panel #6

we see the same young man (grisham)

no longer in uniform.

now out of the military, he sits at home writing in his journal.

caption #1 - my parents had raised me to think of others, before myself.

caption #2 - my faith teaches me to love everyone. even those that would rather see me dead.

panel #7

a close up of the young man looking up from his journal, a tear is once again in his eye

caption - to this day, i think of that old man, and wonder....

the end

SFC CJ Grisham's Story as he wrote it. See Below:

How to Lose Your Soul
October 2nd, 2006 by CJ

I've been debating sharing this story here for a LONG time. Even when
I sort of wrote about it when I shared my journal a few years ago, I
glossed over this episode. I've been ignoring it for a long time
publicly, while battling it daily privately.

I recently started back to school in a difficult step towards getting
a degree. One of my assignments for my English class was to write
about an event that shaped my life. Before I even finished reading the
assignment, this story popped into my head. I don't share it in an
attempt to gain sympathy or cry for help. To me, it's just therapy;
one of the reasons I began this blog to begin with.

I believe that war is an inhumane act. It forces people to become
animals. Now, that doesn't mean that I'm a pacifist or that war isn't
necessary. On the contrary, it is unfortunately. However, I can't help
but feel like war took me a few steps back in an evolutionary sense.
Survival tends to tap an instinct most of us suppress until called
upon. The story I'm about to tell isn't pretty. You won't find a hero
in this story. You won't even find a noble soldier. You'll find a
human who was required to make a difficult decision…and made the wrong
one.

March 26, 2003: The day I lost my soul.

We had been fighting a very determined, though ill-trained, enemy. The
smell of moisture mixed with dust and sand was in the air, forcing its
way into our lungs. The blistering sound silence resonated into the
core of our ears, it threatened to drive us mad. In the distance, the
howl of a mangy dog sounded the attack. The silence was broken by the
unmistakable whistling sound that precedes the thunderous boom of an
artillery shell landing nearby. The concussion literally steals the
very breath from your lungs. The air turned into the stale odor of
explosives. The air seemed to thicken around us in a hail of bullets.
The fight had only just begun. Before it was all over, I would abandon
my personal values and lose my soul.

In the distance I could make out a flash. At first it appeared as if
it could have been lightning. However, lightning does not whistle
after it flashes, and it doesn't get louder and closer.

"INCOMING!!" I shouted. My team hit the ground. We covered our faces
with our hands as if that would save us. At such a moment, one tries
to minimize his presence and the fetal position seems to be the best
way to hide. Katink, tink, tink….

The round is a dud and lands within several feet from our position. In
the distance, I heard a loud boom and instantly the radios came to
life.

Everyone was talking over everyone else trying to find out what had
happened. A familiar voice finally waded through all the static and
fuss and the commander told everyone to shut up. A few minutes
earlier, we were told that a car slammed into one our tanks.

Shortly after the loud boom, a blur moved past us just a few inches
above our truck. It was followed by a whoosh and left a smoke cloud in
its wake. It had come and gone before we even had a chance to react to
the RPG being fired at us. The shooter was taken down. I was getting
angry at all these close calls.

The occupants of the car arrived at my position. The loud boom I heard
two minutes earlier was their car exploding in a huge ball of fire and
debris. After it crashed into the tank it was pushed off to the side
of road. It had failed to detonate when it crashed, but was obviously
still armed. No one was hurt in the explosion.

Through the thick sand I could make out the three silhouettes moving
towards us. One of the men was dressed in common Iraqi clothing – tan,
baggy pants, a plain white t-shirt with a few splotches of blood on
it, and some generic brown tennis shoes. The second man had been shot
a few times. His upper, left shoulder looked like it had been hit
twice and a trail of blood dripping down his right arm most likely hid
the evidence of a third shot. He wore a tan, short sleeve, button-up
shirt that was tarnished with sparkling red blood oozing from the
bullet wounds. He wore a greasy mop of dark hair that appeared to have
a mind of its own, collecting as much mud, blood, and dirt as
possible. The last individual appeared to be the oldest and most in
trouble. He was propped between the shoulders of the other two men,
hunched over and barely able to keep his head up. As he approached us,
his knobby knees, covered with tattered material from what used to be
his jeans, buckled twice. His leathery face attempted an awkward smile
as his defeated brown eyes met mine. Without saying a word, every
expression called out for my help.

My training was very specific in times like this: I was to provide
first aid to anyone that needed it. This old man needed it. His left
hand was all but nonexistent. He had maybe two fingers left. The
brilliant white bone what once connected fingers jutted out like
quills of a porcupine. One of his bloody, mangled fingers simply hung
from his hand, swinging from side to side freely with each movement. A
skeletal pinky bone was all that remained of the last finger. It had
been stripped of its meat and muscle. Someone had placed a tourniquet
around his lower arm in an attempt to stem the bleeding. It wasn't
working. The stench of iron permeated my nasal cavities as we seated
the bloodied men next to our truck.

We were still getting shot at and he kept asking for help. I asked him
where the soldiers were coming from. They claimed to have no idea. I
asked him why he rammed into one our tanks. Silence. Swooooosh….

Another near miss from an RPG, though not as close as the last one.

My face turned red. My pulse quickened. My blood pressure shot up. I
decided I didn't care if this old man died right then and there. We
stopped trying to stem the flow of blood and forced him to keep
walking. For the first time in this war, I refused medical care to
someone in need and I paid for that decision with my soul. The shell
of my body returned to its position, unloading my weapon into the
forest.

For the remainder of my time in Iraq, I thought about this one event.
What became of that old man? Did he make it over the bridge behind us?
Did I now have blood on my hands, both literally and metaphorically
speaking? My parents always raised me to think of others before
myself. My faith teaches me to love everyone, even those would rather
see me mangled and lifeless. To this day, I think about that man and
wonder…

Story Written By :ClaytonD. Murwin
Based on True Story of Andrew Coughlan
04/02/09

19/July/2004
1145
FOB Chosin, Iraq

Page 1
Caption: What started out to be a normal day in Iraq turned to pure hell…

Panel 1: Scene: internet café in Iraq

Caption: My best friend Specialist James O’Leary and myself just returned from  the “internet café” emailing our families and talking to our friends before we had to go out on patrol.

Panel 2 :
Caption: As we were walking back to our tents where we bunked

Andrew: Hey James do ya want to try to beat the lunch rush

James: Hey lets go back to the tent and see if any of the other guys want to join us first.

Andrew : Sure ..Okay

Panel 3:
(Scene)They walk into the tent where all the guys are around the one TV their  platoon has. They are watching a movie.  They  are not even in the tent 5 minutes when the first mortar round flies over the camp. ( Sound Effect of mortar shells ) They have been in Iraq for over 9 months and have been mortared many times before, but this time it just sounded different.

Andrew: Damn that was to close guys!

Page2

Panel 1:
Caption: Most of our gear was in the trucks (humvies) because we had already prepped for the mission.  when the next mortar whistled over the camp, some of them ran out of the tents to get their gear.
 
Andrew: Come on guys move it we need that gear!
Spc. Adam Bouse: Watch your ass man!

Panel 2:
(Scene) Specialist Adam Bouse and Andrew Coughlan leave their tent to get their gear, as they began running to the trucks another round impacted on the road right in front of the trucks. The mortar explodes sending shards and debris everywhere. As the two duck and run trying not to be hit!
 (Sound Effect)KAAAAARRRRRRRBOOOMMMM!

Panel 3:  (wide shot )Andrew & Adam diving into the cement bunkers that were put in place just for things like this.  Their other teammate PFC Charles Persing also left the tent when they did, he already had his gear on because he was going out this day.  (So in the bunker is Adam, Andrew, and Charles in that order) Both ends of this bunker are open.)

Panel 4: (Scene) Rounds continue to impact and get closer to them in the bunker,

Charles: Andrew hold on to me man stay close! (Charles is shielding Andrew).
 
Panel 5: (Scene) (Two or three more rounds impact around them, then the next one impact’s at the opening of the bunker where Charles is.  

Panel 5: (mid-shot) Scene: The impact of the round blows him out of the bunker and knocks Adam and Andrew to the ground.

Panel 6: Scene: Andrew blacks out for a second, his ears ringing  he cant  hear a thing, and the taste of dirt is in his dry mouth, and he is covered in blood, but neither Adam or Andrew are hurt.

Andrew: Hey man you okay? You hurt?

Adam: I think I’m okay…..you.. you Okay? Where is Persing?

Page 3:

Panel 1: (Scene)Andrew looks out to see Charles laying face down outside of the bunker bleeding from his head, arms, and legs.

Charles: Argggh  ohhhhhghhhh  

Panel 2: (Scene) Adam leaves the bunker the get help, Andrew along with two other guys (he doesn’t know who they are )drag Charles back in the bunker and to try and stop the bleeding.(Have panel inside panel to show leg bleeding up close)  

Panel 3: (Scene) Adam comes back into the bunker,

Adam: Dammit Guys the tents are on fire the one we just left took a direct hit! The rest of the squad was in there!!! Dammit man !! We gotta do something!

Panel 4Scene) Andrew looks up and sees  the smoke and flames
 SGT. Mike Ramirez (Bravo team leader in their squad) comes stumbling out of the tent with blood all over his face and then he falls right next to the burning tents that are housing all kinds of ammunition (grenades, small arms, .50 Cal, 40mm grenades )

Panel 5: (Scene)Andrew runs to the aide of his Sgt.

Andrew: Guys I gotta get to the sarge before that tent starts cooking off !

Page 4:

Panel 1: (Scene) Andrew leaves the bunker the second time to bring the Sgt. to the safety of the bunker.

Panel 2: (Scene) Andrew and unknown guys  try to stop the Sgt’s.  bleeding.

Andrew: (Shouts): I need something to make a tourniquet !

Panel 3: The sound of  medivac helicopters coming They can barely be seen through the thick smoke
Thip thip thip thip thip thip

Panel 4: (Scene) They carry the Sgt. to one of the trucks that wasn’t damaged by the mortars.  

Andrew: (Thought bubble) Now I have 2 guys from my squad that I know are in bad shape…

Panel 5: (Scene)While loading up Sgt. Ramirez and Spc. Persing Andrew see’s SGT. Dale Lloyd (his team leader) laying on the cement covered in his own blood, Andrew knew he was dead  from the moment he saw him (part of his head was missing).

Andrew: (Chokes back the tears welling up in his eyes)  Come on guys move  it ! lets get these men to safety

Caption: SGT Lloyd was the kind of man that you would want your daughter to date, and was the best leader Andrew had ever seen.

Panel 6: (Scene)After help loading SGT Lloyd on the truck to take to the medivac, Andrew meets up with some of the other guys from his platoon He see’s his  squad leader Staff Sargent Keith Adams with a head wound and part of his hand bandaged up.
 

Page 5:
Panel 1: (Scene) Once all the mortars stopped coming in and all of their own ammunition stopped cooking off ,they  joined the rest of the company to find out how many guys were missing…Andrew best friend James O ‘Leary was not in formation.

Andrew: Anyone seen O‘Leary ?….

Soldier: Coughlan, he was hurt pretty bad man. They said He had shrapnel go through his back, broke some ribs, collapsed a lung.  He had a hole the size of a softball in his back. Besides the guys that were killed I think he was hurt the worst.

Andrew: (Thought Bubble) 3 guys wounded and 2 guys killed out of my squad.  And our camp  burnt to the ground.

Panel 2:
Andrew: (Thought Bubble) And then there is me…I’m running around, leaving the bunker multiple times with no gear on and don’t even get a scratch.  Someone’s defiantly watching my back.

( I will leave it to you Lance, how you want to work these final panels as far as imagery and layout )  

Panel 3: Caption:  Andrew: I couldn’t sleep for 2 or 3 days after this so I finally asked if I could go to the aid station and get some sleeping medication…I was able to get some meds and sleep up at the aid station, which was on the other side of camp…it was still standing at least…the next morning after sleeping at the aid station…Im walking back (by myself) to where my company set up camp again to the sound of mortars coming in again. ( I will leave it to you Lance how you want to work these final panels)

Panel 4: Caption: Andrew: I passed  a couple of guys that were talking ,were the company set up the new camp…and after I ran through yet another mortar attack with impacts behind, in front, and on the sides of me, Everyone thought I was done….but I came busting through the smoke like you would see in an old Vietnam movie.  Once I reached the company and puked, I was able to tell them we have more causalities…all I remember saying was they are hitting the aid station…and  we ran to the sound of the medivac helicopters.  

There were 3 Marines wounded and 1 killed.  I just remember holding an IV bag for one of the Marines then loading him up. Just another day on the front!

Well just to let everyone know things are really starting to pick up in the pace now!. I am getting inedated with friend request and and soldier's requesting to submit a story fro the Graphic Novel and also I have been getting alot of large name artist and writers coming on board with the project as well! This is all good.  I am truly looking for this book to be sucessful for the soldiers!

On September 23rd, 2007, my unit step foot on Kirkuk Regional Airbase. Otherwise known as the KRAB. It was a very warm day, but nothing like Kuwait. We were assigned living quarters which were refered to as Container Houseing Units. CHUS. My roommate, Sgt Kleps, and I stopped at the dining facility for some chow as the sun set. Of course, the food wasnt top of the line, but when your hungry, you eat. As we finished our dinner, we decided to stand in everyone's way and watch highlights on Sports Center for a few more minutes. As we left, we passed an Air Force female talking with her fellow Airmen. It was pitch black out by this time. We decided we should go get linen before going back to the room. We just so happened to take the long way to the linen pick-up area. Wile walking down this dark road parallel to the chow hall, we had an erie feeling. I could still hear the female behind us talking, and laughing with her buddies. We pass a set of generators and out of nowhere theres an enormously loud BOOM!!! I see the explosion in my pereferal vision. The first thing that went through my mind was "AIRBURST!!!!!" so I yell out exactly that. "AIRBURST!!!!!" SGT Kleps and I duck the best we can to avoid fragmentation. Then there was another loud BOOM. It had landed 30 meters behind us. I looked back and all I saw was dust, and heard the female screaming at the top of her lungs. Sgt Kleps hits the ground with some force and calmly says to me " Im hit. shrapnel got me in the shoulder" I didn't belive him because I hadn't been hit, and we very calm and I didnt hear pain in his voice. Turns out the hospital was right across the street we had been walkin down. Two medics came to Sgt Kleps and I and asked if we were ok. I quickly sent them to check on the girl and her fellow Airmen. I did a blood sweep on Sgt Kleps and he wasn't kidding. I felt a hole in his upper right shoulder. I got him on his feet, asked if he was ok, and we ran to a bunker for cover. Once we got some light on his wound, our medic Sgt Menth who happened to be in that same bunker bandaged him up. Sgt Kleps was sent to the hospital and returned to duty just hours later. As for the Airforce female, she wasn't so lucky. Her legs were peppered with fragmentation and she ended up having one of her legs amputated. After hearing of this, Sgt Kleps and I realized just how close we were to not making it through our first night in Kirkuk. The Airmen that were with the female weren't hurt either. It began to set in that this was going to be a long 15 months. Needless to say, we never walked down that road again during the hours of darkness. Sgt Kleps was awaded the Combat Action Badge, and the Purple Heart. The female returned to the states and was checked into Walter Reed Medical Center. Her fellow Airmen stayed in Kirkuk and continued mission. Fortunately nobody was fataly inured that night. Just one of many more close calls to come. families were notified, and it was time to reflect, and bed down. We prayed for angels to continue to watch over us and our fellow service members deployed world wide. "Lights Out"


Sgt(p) Brian Duclos                               Sgt Jason Kleps
HHB 3-6 FA 1 BCT 10TH MTN DIV         HHB 3-6FA 1BCT 10TH MTN DIV
Fort Drum, NY 13602                            Fort Drum, NY 13602
--------------------