CASF medics recall Airman's memory

Published Oct. 14, 2008
By Staff Sgt. Don Branum
332nd Air Expeditionary Wing Public Affairs

JOINT BASE BALAD, Iraq -- Four and a half years after his death, Airman 1st Class Antoine Holt's memory perseveres in the thoughts of two Contingency Aeromedical Staging Facility medics deployed to a nation that today is much closer to peace.

Master Sgt. Jenny Carney and Tech. Sgt. Patrick Carlin, reservists from Westover Air Reserve Base, Mass., were deployed to Joint Base Balad -- then Balad Air Base and Logistics Support Area Anaconda -- in April 2004 when a mortar round struck Holt's tent, killing him and wounding two others.

"I didn't know of him until after the attack happened," said Carney, "but after that night, I'll never forget him."

Carney and Carlin had moved from Baghdad to Balad to establish the base's CASF. The Air Force had recently established a presence at the base, with about 1,200 Airmen living in tents. The base had earned the moniker "Mortaritaville" -- and not without good cause, as Iraq was much less stable at the time.

"The mortars were constant," said Carlin, a native of Ipswich, Mass. "(Terrorists) didn't just fire one -- they would fire five, move a little bit, and fire off five more."

April 9 was a particularly nerve-wracking day, Carlin said.

"We'd already been (under attack) about three times that night," he said. "We had some peace, and then this ... it was the last attack of the night."

Technically, it was the first attack of April 10, as it came shortly after midnight. Carney was near a dining facility with another Airman when the mortar hit.

"You could feel it like it was in your backyard," she said. "We dropped a cooler we were carrying and ran into the only bunker that existed at the time. On my radio -- I don't know who said this -- we heard, 'tent city, 40 down.' My heart dropped because I couldn't help but imagine how many people would be injured."

Carlin witnessed the impact from less than a football field away. The explosion briefly lit up the Air Force housing area, and its shockwave buffeted him.

"Everything seemed like it was in slow motion," he said. "My first thought was, 'Does the mission control center know about this?' My second thought was, 'We're going in regardless; we're not getting down.'"

A controlled chaos erupted throughout the tent city as Carlin and five other medics arrived on scene, he said.

"Everyone came out to help, because everybody realized the possibility that we'd have a lot of (wounded)," he added.

The first casualty they discovered was Airman 1st Class Scott Palomino, who was deployed from Holt's home-station unit, the 603rd Air Control Squadron at Aviano Air Base, Italy. The mortar attack amputated his left leg below the knee.

"He was still conscious, leaning against the chapel," Carlin said. "I remember him screaming, 'There are still people in the tent!'"

A flight doctor tended to Palomino while Carlin and his teammates approached the tent that had been hit. The explosion had destroyed the tent's roof, and the smell of sulfur lingered as the medics tried to work their way through thick smoke.

"We went in and found Holt underneath a mattress," Carlin said. "We did a quick sweep of the tent, and no one else was in there. We got Holt out and had him on a stretcher. He was in good hands. ... At that point, I heard someone else scream that they needed another stretcher, so I grabbed one and ran for the next row of tents."

Injuries from the attack were minimal because the mortar had struck the top section of the tent frame.

"If it had hit the ground before it exploded, it would have been a lot worse," said Carney, a native of Buffalo, N.Y.

Combat stress set in over the next few days as Airmen processed what had happened.

"Everything changed that night," Carlin said. "We were vulnerable, and we felt vulnerable. I slept at the CASF for three nights straight because I couldn't bring myself to sleep in the tent city," Carlin said. "I have probably helped move 30,000 wounded, but Palomino and Holt are still the ones I remember most vividly. And it was really hard to adjust right after we redeployed, especially because we came home right before the Fourth of July."

Some positives came out of the experience, however.

"Everyone took wearing their IBA a lot more seriously," Carlin said. "People put aside their differences; the entire Air Force community at Balad came together."

Carney and Carlin talked to each other before deciding whether they would come back to Balad on their current deployment.

"Being back here brings everything back," Carlin said. "We've got a bond. I don't think we'd ever be able to come back to Iraq without each other."

Holt, an air traffic controller with the 727th Expeditionary Air Control Squadron, was a native of Kennesaw, Ga. He graduated from North Cobb High School when he was 16 and enjoyed reading, poetry and playing basketball. Those who knew him at Aviano remarked that he was always upbeat, always smiling.

His body was flown back to Atlanta. His wife of two years, Patricia, and their 1-year-old daughter, Carmen, flew from Aviano AB to attend his funeral service at Elizabeth Baptist Church April 17.

"He was a leader of leaders, and everyone who knew him liked him," said Brig. Gen. R. Mike Worden, who commanded Aviano's 31st Fighter Wing at the time of Holt's death. "That's rare for a young man."

At Aviano, an award for air control excellence is named after him. Balad's stadium was renamed Holt Memorial Stadium Dec. 15, 2004; a plaque dedicated to him stands inside the entrance. Carney hasn't visited the stadium since its dedication, but she ensures Holt's memory lives on. While on a walk with Master Sgt. Lisa Crawford, a command-and-control administrator for the CASF who's deployed from Andrews AFB, Md., Carney brought Crawford to the memorial to share her remembrance.

"Holt came here just like us," Carney said. "He was doing his job, just like us. It's an honor to be able to tell his story."