Thank you very much.
Mr. Chair, members of the committee, thank you very much for having me. It is truly an honour to be here.
I'm going to talk to you about my time as a forward operating base doctor in Afghanistan. My time there, as you know, was very atypical medicine. I spent almost all my time in the combat area, a place where physicians almost never go.
I worked at the forward operating bases where living conditions could be fairly spartan and somewhat hazardous. Our FOBs were quite heavily attacked—including this one, which was the most heavily attacked in all of Afghanistan, setting a record one day with 19 rocket attacks in 24 hours.
This is the army's equivalent of an 18-wheeler. You get an idea of the size of blast that these rockets create when they hit. The shrapnel, the metal fragments thrown off from the blast, are lethal to a much greater distance.
Down in this corner, we had what's called a shower can. That's a sea container that has a hot water heater and some shower stalls inside. When that rocket hit, two of the shrapnel fragments tore through the multiple layers of metal around this shower and decapitated an Afghan soldier who'd been showering there, killing him pretty much instantly.
Because of that, a lot of Canadian soldiers who served at this FOB would refuse to shower in that stall. I made it a point to always shower there, because I figured that the odds of somebody else getting killed in exactly the same place had to be very low.
These are the people who did the shooting. These are Taliban soldiers with their favoured weapons. First there's the AK-47 rifle.
I should warn you, at this point, that I am showing you what it's like to be a doctor at war, so some of these images are fairly graphic.
This is an entry wound where an AK-47 bullet has gone into the body. These high-powered rounds create exit wounds that are much bigger, where the bullet comes out with a great amount of damage, probably lethal in the chest or abdomen.
This is an exit wound in an arm, an explosion of bone and tissue out the arm. If you look inside, you can see that the bones and probably the nerves and blood vessels are shattered. It would be very difficult to salvage this limb.
The other favoured weapon of the Taliban is the rocket-propelled grenade, or RPG. This is a small missile. It has a range of about 800 metres, with a little rocket motor there. It has pretty good punch, and will fill the air with small shrapnel fragments, like the ones that hit this Canadian soldier here. He was serving at this FOB right on the edge of the desert in this guard tower, standing pretty much exactly where I'm standing, manning the light machine gun that we all took turns manning to guard the approaches to the FOB. There used to be a beam here. The RPG round came in, detonated here, and showered him with fragments.
The first step to good patient care is not getting hurt. If you look at his chest, and especially here, in the death box—the heart and the great blood vessels where you will bleed out within a minute if you're hit—he has no marks, because he's wearing not just his kevlar vest, but also, right here, there's a metal bulletproof plate, front and back, that will stop an AK-47 round.
You also notice that he has no wounds from his eyes on up, because he's wearing not only his helmet but also his ballistic glasses. These are hardened plastic that will stop these shrapnel fragments from damaging the very vulnerable eye.
Now, you have to understand that these are direct-fire weapons. You have to see the person you're trying to kill to use them. So it's a gunfight, and Canadians do not die in gunfights. We're much better soldiers than the Taliban. If you look at the months of heavy fighting in Afghanistan, in Kandahar, with over 120 combat deaths, only eight of them were from direct fire by the Taliban.
So what killed us? Well, this killed us: this is what's left of a motorcycle after a suicide bomber blew himself up beside an Afghan army vehicle. You can see the shrapnel fragments that went through the vehicle like a hail of lethal bullets.
Even scarier is the suicide vehicle packed with explosives. This is on a testing range here in Canada. You can see on this test vehicle the mannequin representing the crew commander and the sentry. When something like this happens—this explosion—as you can imagine, anybody with their chest and head outside the vehicle is not going to do well.
This is the scariest thing you could do in Afghanistan—not getting shot at but going down the roads of Kandahar province. This is what killed us, the IED or roadside bomb—low-tech warfare at its best.
Sometimes we got lucky, but sometimes we didn't. This is, again, on a testing range in Canada. As you can imagine, if the breach into our armour is complete, as you can see here, nobody would survive this kind of an explosion. Even if the breach is only partial, our soldiers are in big trouble.
Paradoxically, the armour that protected them so well a second before now works against them by containing the force of the explosion inside the vehicle. This causes an overpressure to build up, which can be lethal all by itself. That can lead to some unsettling situations, because soldiers killed by overpressure have no marks on them.
It can be very hard to explain to young soldiers that their friend is really gone, that behind the faces that look so peaceful, the internal organs have been turned to mush.
Even if the armour is not breached but only buckles, we're still going to have serious injuries. The floor of the armoured vehicle comes up into the crew compartment so fast; it's as if the soldier had jumped off a third- or fourth-storey balcony. So even though the wounds on the surface won't look that bad, you look inside with X-rays and the bones are just shattered; the nerves and blood vessels are ripped up. It's very hard to salvage this limb. Often, amputation is the only option we have.
Limb wounds are bad to look at, but easily the most horrifying wounds are facial wounds, because even for well-trained medical personnel, these are very hard to take. They're not all that lethal, actually. All mortality from head and neck trauma is only about 5% if the patient is still breathing. If the windpipe is disrupted, that mortality goes up sevenfold.
The reason this guy is still alive is that he has benefited from a procedure where we actually cut into the neck and put a tube directly into the lungs, to push air into the lungs, bypassing the damaged face.
In 20 years of emergency medicine in Canada I've done this procedure three times. One of my medics on my first tour did this three times in six months, and did them so well that Colonel Tien, whom you heard from a few weeks ago, actually wrote an article about him in The Journal of Trauma, and about the quality of training that our medics receive.
Some people have expressed surprise and even criticism that as a doctor I'm heavily armed, but in the combat area I am a soldier first. Our job, for my medics and for me, is that once the shooting starts, we help win the fight. It makes no sense to take our weapons offline and open up a gap in our defences.
Once we're pushing the enemy back, we're in a good position to cover, and then we can attend to the wounded, especially at the base of one of these mud brick walls. They're like concrete and can stop a bullet. It can be difficult to do when something like this is going on right above your head. I would encourage you to focus on the top right-hand corner here.
[Video Presentation]