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San Antonio Express-News
January 17, 2008
Pg. 1
Walter Reed revelations spawned Warrior Transition units
By Sig Christenson, Express-News
WASHINGTON — Chief Warrant Officer John King was at Walter Reed Army Medical Center a year ago with a spinal injury suffered in Iraq when he suddenly became a counselor. His charges were young combat veterans hobbled by brain injuries, amputations and post-traumatic stress disorder. Some had no family support, and very few could cope with the Army's byzantine bureaucracy or a hospital that catered to inpatients and had a peacetime mindset — things King, a 25-year veteran, was able to handle better than most.
"These 18-, 19-, 20-year-old kids that come up here, they don't have that experience, so when they got here they wouldn't understand," he said. "A lot of these guys would get here and get lost for 30 days."
The Washington Post last year brought to light problems of red tape, staff shortages and poor living conditions endured by wounded warriors at Walter Reed. The revelations ended the careers of Army Secretary Francis Harvey and the service's surgeon general, Lt. Gen. Kevin Kiley, but jump-started sweeping changes in the way the service cares for troops on the mend.
The changes have made a lasting imprint on wounded soldiers from Washington to San Antonio and beyond.
"They did a great service to the soldiers, they did a great service to the Army," Maj. Steven Gventer, a one-time San Antonian now helping lead the changes at Walter Reed, said of the Post. "Was it a painful experience? Of course it was. Was it something that was embarrassing? Sure it was. But are we fixing it? Have we done everything possible for these soldiers and are we continuing to get better every day? Yes."
A surge of sorts came in the wake of the firings. Walter Reed shut down a rodent-infested residence, launched a makeover in the way medical evaluations are done, and brought an infusion of noncommissioned officers to the post. Many of those NCOs are Iraq and Afghan veterans, and some bear the scars of war.
The Army last spring created its first-ever Warrior Transition Brigade at Walter Reed. The brigade has since given birth to 35 Warrior Transition units at posts nationwide, including at Fort Sam Houston, putting a very personal touch on care for legions of the wounded.
A growing band of officers and NCOs is the heart of the Warrior Transition concept. Gventer, a 1988 Clark High School graduate who was shot and hit by an RPG while in Iraq, became Walter Reed's first Warrior Transition company commander. The job requires him and 2,500 others in the program to know their soldiers and families. They escort troops to meetings, act as their advocates, field their calls and even pick up relatives at the airport.
"I have personally taken care of a dog for three weeks in my house," said Gventer, 38, of Grapevine. "It's a job that entails just about anything and everything for that soldier, the warrior in transition, to focus on his mission, which is to heal."
The noncoms are armed with BlackBerrys and cell phones. They distribute laminated cards with a list of phone numbers that soldiers and their families can call night and day. They meet with soldiers at formations and check up on those with mental or emotional problems by phone on weekends.
In San Antonio, the formation early Wednesday at Fort Sam's Okubo Barracks wasn't like boot camp. First Sgt. Pedro Perez, a senior enlisted adviser, stood before soldiers who leaned on canes and sat in wheelchairs. The troops, most wearing Army windbreakers and warm-ups, listened as Perez, a 40-year-old Austin native, told them about an upcoming résumé writing class.
Warrior Transition formations like this often are backed up by finance specialists, officials from the Veterans Administration and National Guard, and an ombudsman who can report to the hospital commander or the Army inspector general.
Army Sgt. Lilina Benning praised the process, noting that she was introduced to her platoon leader upon arriving in the Alamo City after a Sept. 11, 2007, Iraq rocket attack that claimed most of her left foot. In an interview after a workout at Fort Sam's Center for the Intrepid, she said she sees the squad leader on weekdays.
"They make sure that you are over here, make sure you're OK, or that I'm alive," said Benning, a 37-year-old native of Kosrae, Micronesia.
The Army has cut the case manager-to-soldier ratio from 1-to-55 before the Post's stories to 1-to-18 today at Walter Reed. It's also 1-to-18 at BAMC, the Army's other large medical facility.
The squad leader-to-soldier ratio nationwide has fallen from 1-to-50 soldiers this time last year to 1-to-12, said the Warrior Transition Brigade's commander, Col. Terry McKenrick.
"You talk about it causing grief," he said of the Post's stories, "but really it's allowed us to fix some problems that were in dire need of fixing."
Army Capt. Eivind Forseth, who suffered hand, arm and eye damage when a roadside bomb hit his Humvee in Mosul on Jan. 4, 2005, agrees that things have gotten much better. But he doesn't believe that all of Walter Reed's problems were rooted in a 113-acre campus geared mainly to inpatient care. Some at the hospital "rode the gravy train for years," he said, and were just too lazy to work.
"And because they had to do the work, they were forced to do the work, they treated us as second-class citizens," Forseth said. "You did have a few who would kind of sympathize with our situation, but you had a bunch who didn't. You might have been in a line at McDonald's ordering happy meals."
Both Forseth and King, a helicopter pilot with 8,000 hours in the air, endured similar trials after arriving at Walter Reed. It seemed to Forseth that there were few standard operating procedures. The large number of wounded troops overwhelmed an understaffed system. Paperwork took too long to get done.
The first big foul-up for Forseth came in Ward 57, home to Walter Reed's orthopedic patients — mainly amputees. The medical personnel there said he could leave, but someone else then asked for documents listing his injuries, physical limitations, and tasks he could and could not perform. Forseth had no idea he needed those papers or how to get them. He was stuck.
"In a normal military environment you would be AWOL, but in this environment there was very little accountability and so you might be in fear of slipping though the cracks and not getting any care," Forseth said.
Capt. Christian Fierro had 14 operations at Walter Reed in the summer and fall of 2006 after a friendly fire shooting in Iraq that badly damaged his left ankle. After returning to his post in Germany, he wrestled with Walter Reed over his medical records. Six months passed before they finally arrived, but records of four operations were missing.
"It was ridiculous," said the 27-year-old Fierro, who is rehabilitating at BAMC and may yet lose his foot. "It wasn't like they had gotten lost in the mail, either. They hadn't been mailed."
King came to Walter Reed with a severe spinal injury but soon found himself the go-to guy for soldiers who didn't know their way around.
It wasn't an unusual turn of events, according to Major Gen. George Weightman, who was fired as Walter Reed's commander after the Post stories came out but now heads the service's Medical Research and Materiel Command.
Unable to get more staff to care for its growing corps of war-wounded from outside Walter Reed, Weightman said the hospital shifted personnel from within its ranks. The problem boiled down to numbers. The hospital's unit for wounded troops saw its population mushroom from 100 to 125 before 9-11 to 900-plus as Iraq heated up.
King, 46, of Maryville, Tenn., said staffers dealing with soldiers had no idea what they were going through.
"You'd have a platoon sergeant on Monday and find out you're in a different platoon on Friday," he said. "Occasionally it would be a warm body, and I say that sincerely, that's basically what it was. And even the case managers, they couldn't relate, they couldn't understand."
Now, Warrior Transition units have a squad leader, primary care manager and nurse case manager for every soldier. Senior commanders lead monthly town hall meetings for GIs and families. VA health and benefits specialists work with Warrior Transition units to help troops prepare to leave the Army.
Soldiers also can log onto an Army Web site to check on the status of their medical and physical evaluation boards. Tracking the panels is crucial because those proceedings will help determine how troops are compensated for their injuries.
The medical makeover has made a huge difference for soldiers like Forseth, 34, of Washington, D.C., now into his fourth year of recovery at Walter Reed. He's put in his paperwork for medical retirement and says the process is running smoothly.
"I've seen great changes," he said. "It's fantastic. This is the first time in a long time that I didn't absolutely hate being in here."
January 17, 2008
Pg. 1
Walter Reed revelations spawned Warrior Transition units
By Sig Christenson, Express-News
WASHINGTON — Chief Warrant Officer John King was at Walter Reed Army Medical Center a year ago with a spinal injury suffered in Iraq when he suddenly became a counselor. His charges were young combat veterans hobbled by brain injuries, amputations and post-traumatic stress disorder. Some had no family support, and very few could cope with the Army's byzantine bureaucracy or a hospital that catered to inpatients and had a peacetime mindset — things King, a 25-year veteran, was able to handle better than most.
"These 18-, 19-, 20-year-old kids that come up here, they don't have that experience, so when they got here they wouldn't understand," he said. "A lot of these guys would get here and get lost for 30 days."
The Washington Post last year brought to light problems of red tape, staff shortages and poor living conditions endured by wounded warriors at Walter Reed. The revelations ended the careers of Army Secretary Francis Harvey and the service's surgeon general, Lt. Gen. Kevin Kiley, but jump-started sweeping changes in the way the service cares for troops on the mend.
The changes have made a lasting imprint on wounded soldiers from Washington to San Antonio and beyond.
"They did a great service to the soldiers, they did a great service to the Army," Maj. Steven Gventer, a one-time San Antonian now helping lead the changes at Walter Reed, said of the Post. "Was it a painful experience? Of course it was. Was it something that was embarrassing? Sure it was. But are we fixing it? Have we done everything possible for these soldiers and are we continuing to get better every day? Yes."
A surge of sorts came in the wake of the firings. Walter Reed shut down a rodent-infested residence, launched a makeover in the way medical evaluations are done, and brought an infusion of noncommissioned officers to the post. Many of those NCOs are Iraq and Afghan veterans, and some bear the scars of war.
The Army last spring created its first-ever Warrior Transition Brigade at Walter Reed. The brigade has since given birth to 35 Warrior Transition units at posts nationwide, including at Fort Sam Houston, putting a very personal touch on care for legions of the wounded.
A growing band of officers and NCOs is the heart of the Warrior Transition concept. Gventer, a 1988 Clark High School graduate who was shot and hit by an RPG while in Iraq, became Walter Reed's first Warrior Transition company commander. The job requires him and 2,500 others in the program to know their soldiers and families. They escort troops to meetings, act as their advocates, field their calls and even pick up relatives at the airport.
"I have personally taken care of a dog for three weeks in my house," said Gventer, 38, of Grapevine. "It's a job that entails just about anything and everything for that soldier, the warrior in transition, to focus on his mission, which is to heal."
The noncoms are armed with BlackBerrys and cell phones. They distribute laminated cards with a list of phone numbers that soldiers and their families can call night and day. They meet with soldiers at formations and check up on those with mental or emotional problems by phone on weekends.
In San Antonio, the formation early Wednesday at Fort Sam's Okubo Barracks wasn't like boot camp. First Sgt. Pedro Perez, a senior enlisted adviser, stood before soldiers who leaned on canes and sat in wheelchairs. The troops, most wearing Army windbreakers and warm-ups, listened as Perez, a 40-year-old Austin native, told them about an upcoming résumé writing class.
Warrior Transition formations like this often are backed up by finance specialists, officials from the Veterans Administration and National Guard, and an ombudsman who can report to the hospital commander or the Army inspector general.
Army Sgt. Lilina Benning praised the process, noting that she was introduced to her platoon leader upon arriving in the Alamo City after a Sept. 11, 2007, Iraq rocket attack that claimed most of her left foot. In an interview after a workout at Fort Sam's Center for the Intrepid, she said she sees the squad leader on weekdays.
"They make sure that you are over here, make sure you're OK, or that I'm alive," said Benning, a 37-year-old native of Kosrae, Micronesia.
The Army has cut the case manager-to-soldier ratio from 1-to-55 before the Post's stories to 1-to-18 today at Walter Reed. It's also 1-to-18 at BAMC, the Army's other large medical facility.
The squad leader-to-soldier ratio nationwide has fallen from 1-to-50 soldiers this time last year to 1-to-12, said the Warrior Transition Brigade's commander, Col. Terry McKenrick.
"You talk about it causing grief," he said of the Post's stories, "but really it's allowed us to fix some problems that were in dire need of fixing."
Army Capt. Eivind Forseth, who suffered hand, arm and eye damage when a roadside bomb hit his Humvee in Mosul on Jan. 4, 2005, agrees that things have gotten much better. But he doesn't believe that all of Walter Reed's problems were rooted in a 113-acre campus geared mainly to inpatient care. Some at the hospital "rode the gravy train for years," he said, and were just too lazy to work.
"And because they had to do the work, they were forced to do the work, they treated us as second-class citizens," Forseth said. "You did have a few who would kind of sympathize with our situation, but you had a bunch who didn't. You might have been in a line at McDonald's ordering happy meals."
Both Forseth and King, a helicopter pilot with 8,000 hours in the air, endured similar trials after arriving at Walter Reed. It seemed to Forseth that there were few standard operating procedures. The large number of wounded troops overwhelmed an understaffed system. Paperwork took too long to get done.
The first big foul-up for Forseth came in Ward 57, home to Walter Reed's orthopedic patients — mainly amputees. The medical personnel there said he could leave, but someone else then asked for documents listing his injuries, physical limitations, and tasks he could and could not perform. Forseth had no idea he needed those papers or how to get them. He was stuck.
"In a normal military environment you would be AWOL, but in this environment there was very little accountability and so you might be in fear of slipping though the cracks and not getting any care," Forseth said.
Capt. Christian Fierro had 14 operations at Walter Reed in the summer and fall of 2006 after a friendly fire shooting in Iraq that badly damaged his left ankle. After returning to his post in Germany, he wrestled with Walter Reed over his medical records. Six months passed before they finally arrived, but records of four operations were missing.
"It was ridiculous," said the 27-year-old Fierro, who is rehabilitating at BAMC and may yet lose his foot. "It wasn't like they had gotten lost in the mail, either. They hadn't been mailed."
King came to Walter Reed with a severe spinal injury but soon found himself the go-to guy for soldiers who didn't know their way around.
It wasn't an unusual turn of events, according to Major Gen. George Weightman, who was fired as Walter Reed's commander after the Post stories came out but now heads the service's Medical Research and Materiel Command.
Unable to get more staff to care for its growing corps of war-wounded from outside Walter Reed, Weightman said the hospital shifted personnel from within its ranks. The problem boiled down to numbers. The hospital's unit for wounded troops saw its population mushroom from 100 to 125 before 9-11 to 900-plus as Iraq heated up.
King, 46, of Maryville, Tenn., said staffers dealing with soldiers had no idea what they were going through.
"You'd have a platoon sergeant on Monday and find out you're in a different platoon on Friday," he said. "Occasionally it would be a warm body, and I say that sincerely, that's basically what it was. And even the case managers, they couldn't relate, they couldn't understand."
Now, Warrior Transition units have a squad leader, primary care manager and nurse case manager for every soldier. Senior commanders lead monthly town hall meetings for GIs and families. VA health and benefits specialists work with Warrior Transition units to help troops prepare to leave the Army.
Soldiers also can log onto an Army Web site to check on the status of their medical and physical evaluation boards. Tracking the panels is crucial because those proceedings will help determine how troops are compensated for their injuries.
The medical makeover has made a huge difference for soldiers like Forseth, 34, of Washington, D.C., now into his fourth year of recovery at Walter Reed. He's put in his paperwork for medical retirement and says the process is running smoothly.
"I've seen great changes," he said. "It's fantastic. This is the first time in a long time that I didn't absolutely hate being in here."