Fort Bliss Monitor

Courtesy Photo

Pfc. Geoff Bakker, a 28-year-old combat medic with Headquarters and Headquarters Company,
2nd Battalion, 12th Cavalry Regiment, 4th Brigade Combat Team, 1st Cavalry Division, currently
attached to 2nd Brigade Combat Team, 1st Infantry Division, stares out the window of a Humvee
during a patrol through western Baghdad Aug. 2.

Medic remembers comrade
who signed up to save lives

Spc. Jeffrey Ledesma
1st Cavalry Division Public Affairs

BAGHDAD, Iraq – As the early morning heat tiptoed past 100 degrees, “ Thunderhorse” Soldiers alternated rolling over the Iraqi capital’s paved streets and its less-congested dirt backroads.

A voice over the radio broke the casual conversation.

“I just heard from a buddy of mine that someone from our (advanced individual training) was killed in Afghanistan,” Pfc. Geoff Bakker said.

In his fledgling Army career, just 17 months, Bakker already knows two medics who have been killed in action and three more who have been wounded on the frontlines of Iraq.

He has a black, metal reminder that never leaves his wrist.

The 28-year-old combat medic with Headquarters and Headquarters Company, 2nd Battalion, 12th Cavalry Regiment, 4th Brigade Combat Team, 1st Cavalry Division, said that the bracelet keeps the memory of his fellow medics alive.

One of the medics who stays in his thoughts is Sgt. John Allen. Allen signed up to save lives and, in the process, sacrificed his own.

When Bakker, a Portland, Ore., native, arrived in country, his first place of duty was at a medical treatment center. Shortly thereafter, Allen joined him after coming off a rotation serving with a line unit.

Bakker said he looked up to Allen. The 25-year-old sergeant told him about his experiences outside the wire, taught him the tricks of the trade, showed him what to do in different situations and provided hints on how to help make him a more efficient medic, he said.

“If he wanted to tell you something, he would tell you straight up,” Bakker said about his honest friend.

On Saint Patrick’s Day, Bakker’s one-year anniversary in the Army, he was supposed to go out of the wire, but he was in the motor pool because two of his trucks had broken down and weren’t in working condition.

Bakker said while they were working on their downed vehicles, Capt. Eric Mendoza walked into the motor pool and announced that some people had died … eventually Allen’s name came up.

“When you know someone who dies, it brings back the harsh reality,” Bakker said. “Being a medic, you know that people die over here, but when the name that’s called is someone you know, someone you hung out with, someone you talked to, you’re more rattled.”

The sergeant, known for his goofball humor and blunt honesty, had died after a roadside bomb detonated near his patrol.

“He always created these special, funny moments. John had a way of making good things happen even though it was done in the strangest possible way,” his twin sister, Amanda Braxton of Redding, Calif., said in a Los Angeles Times article.

“I didn’t want to believe it was true. I turned around from the rest of my team and walked off by myself,” Bakker said. “It was the first time someone got killed that I knew personally.

“It hit me really, really hard.”

He lost a friend and was confronted with the reality that it could have been any one of them who had been killed that day.

“Death is something that, as a medic, you were trained to deal with, and the possibility of it happening to me is kind of something I accept,” Bakker said. “I figure if I could save someone’s life, it’s worth it.”

But Bakker said the road a medic travels is never easy and the trinket around his right wrist pays tribute to that road and the medics who have traveled it before him.

“I wanted to do something, so I’d never forget – always have that reality check in my head … not to scare me, but to keep the reality that things do happen out here,” he said. “I worry sometimes that I’ll forget things about him or I’ll forget that I knew him and that’s something I never want to do.”

Allen, a Soldier who was once in the Navy and extremely proud of serving his country, was laid to rest at Arlington National Cemetery.



www.bliss.army.mil	Published for the Fort Bliss/El Paso, Texas Community	Aug. 9, 2007

	Courtesy Photo Pfc. Geoff Bakker, a 28-year-old combat medic with Headquarters and Headquarters Company, 2nd Battalion, 12th Cavalry Regiment, 4th Brigade Combat Team, 1st Cavalry Division, currently attached to 2nd Brigade Combat Team, 1st Infantry Division, stares out the window of a Humvee during a patrol through western Baghdad Aug. 2. Medic remembers comrade who signed up to save lives Spc. Jeffrey Ledesma 1st Cavalry Division Public Affairs BAGHDAD, Iraq – As the early morning heat tiptoed past 100 degrees, “ Thunderhorse” Soldiers alternated rolling over the Iraqi capital’s paved streets and its less-congested dirt backroads. A voice over the radio broke the casual conversation. “I just heard from a buddy of mine that someone from our (advanced individual training) was killed in Afghanistan,” Pfc. Geoff Bakker said. In his fledgling Army career, just 17 months, Bakker already knows two medics who have been killed in action and three more who have been wounded on the frontlines of Iraq. He has a black, metal reminder that never leaves his wrist. The 28-year-old combat medic with Headquarters and Headquarters Company, 2nd Battalion, 12th Cavalry Regiment, 4th Brigade Combat Team, 1st Cavalry Division, said that the bracelet keeps the memory of his fellow medics alive. One of the medics who stays in his thoughts is Sgt. John Allen. Allen signed up to save lives and, in the process, sacrificed his own. When Bakker, a Portland, Ore., native, arrived in country, his first place of duty was at a medical treatment center. Shortly thereafter, Allen joined him after coming off a rotation serving with a line unit. Bakker said he looked up to Allen. The 25-year-old sergeant told him about his experiences outside the wire, taught him the tricks of the trade, showed him what to do in different situations and provided hints on how to help make him a more efficient medic, he said. “If he wanted to tell you something, he would tell you straight up,” Bakker said about his honest friend. On Saint Patrick’s Day, Bakker’s one-year anniversary in the Army, he was supposed to go out of the wire, but he was in the motor pool because two of his trucks had broken down and weren’t in working condition. Bakker said while they were working on their downed vehicles, Capt. Eric Mendoza walked into the motor pool and announced that some people had died … eventually Allen’s name came up. “When you know someone who dies, it brings back the harsh reality,” Bakker said. “Being a medic, you know that people die over here, but when the name that’s called is someone you know, someone you hung out with, someone you talked to, you’re more rattled.” The sergeant, known for his goofball humor and blunt honesty, had died after a roadside bomb detonated near his patrol. “He always created these special, funny moments. John had a way of making good things happen even though it was done in the strangest possible way,” his twin sister, Amanda Braxton of Redding, Calif., said in a Los Angeles Times article. “I didn’t want to believe it was true. I turned around from the rest of my team and walked off by myself,” Bakker said. “It was the first time someone got killed that I knew personally. “It hit me really, really hard.” He lost a friend and was confronted with the reality that it could have been any one of them who had been killed that day. “Death is something that, as a medic, you were trained to deal with, and the possibility of it happening to me is kind of something I accept,” Bakker said. “I figure if I could save someone’s life, it’s worth it.” But Bakker said the road a medic travels is never easy and the trinket around his right wrist pays tribute to that road and the medics who have traveled it before him. “I wanted to do something, so I’d never forget – always have that reality check in my head … not to scare me, but to keep the reality that things do happen out here,” he said. “I worry sometimes that I’ll forget things about him or I’ll forget that I knew him and that’s something I never want to do.” Allen, a Soldier who was once in the Navy and extremely proud of serving his country, was laid to rest at Arlington National Cemetery.