Man down: A Delta Force tale of loss

Guido was a tall man – six foot two or three, if I recall correctly. I remember how, from time to time, he bumped his head on obstacles that the rest of us passed under with no event. Height certainly has its advantages but also unfortunate disadvantages. Guido came to prove that adage on a night assault on an objective in support of Operation Tropical Cavern.

Ours was one of the four-man teams designated to insert by way of MH-6 Little Bird helicopters, an egg-shaped aircraft with room for four men – two on each side – to sit on benches outside of the body of the helo.

Guido and I sat together on one side of the helo nervously making final equipment checks as we settled down into our landing zone in the final minute of our infiltration flight. It was in that minute that I saw that the helicopter was landing with its nose pointing 90 degrees off from the planned landing attitude.

That might have been OK if everyone realized the error of the pilots and adjusted our assault direction… but the men on the opposite side of the helo were not able to see that. A quick situation report over our squad radios fixed any confusion among the team, but the shape of the terrain proved to be a fatal aspect of our disembarkation.

In short, the ground sloped upward on Guido’s and my side of the helo; the helo tipped its rotor downward even farther to compensate for the downward lean of the aircraft. I bent low and passed under the blades. Guido bent low… but not low enough and his head was struck hard by the helo’s rotor.

Two men went forward to the objective breach point and began to clear the building of hostile presence. Two men stayed back to tend to Guido. As all misfortune settled, it was immediately clear that the strike to his head was fatal.

A feeling of immense dread abounded, and everyone was at a standstill, wondering what was the best thing to say in the minutes that came. It seemed futile but it was essential that the medics were called over post haste, and a pulse was measured from the body – there was none.

The men worked like robots, gathering the body and preparing it for transport to the post medical facility, Womack Army Hospital. The trip was as forlorn as it could possibly be; nothing was uttered beyond the essential communications.

The necessary background activities commenced and a detail was assembled for the most unwelcome portion of the incident, the notification of the next of kin – Guido’s wife.

It was around 0200 in the early morning and the whole world as we knew it was fast asleep. There was an officer assigned to the detail, in this case it was Guido’s Troop Commander. A representative from the Unit’s personnel office was there to help with the necessary details of the post mortem procedure. A member of the assault team, Guido’s Team Leader, was present as well.

The processes panned out just as you might imagine it: a knock on the door of Guido’s home residence from the team of men assigned to the notification. The spouse, wrapped in a night robe, slowly and cautiously opened the door. It was plain to see by the look on her face that she already knew what the men were there for.

I am put in mind back when I first processed into the Unit, the Delta Force. There was a senior medic who gave us his portion of the in-brief. He communicated in words to the effect: pay close attention to your medical training. If you spend more than just a short time in the Unit you will certainly need to employ those skills. And be prepared to lose a friend – perhaps a very good friend – as it is an inevitable component of life in Delta.

By Almighty God and with Honor,
geo sends

Feature Image: Guy “Guido” Cutino (top left) with author (bottom left) and other Delta members. (Photo courtesy of author)

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