"Big Breasts" and Body Armor

The Questing Cat, blogging from the Sharp End, tells a gripping tale of his experience as a Combat Lifesaver.

We get to the dust-off point. We get him out of the vehicle, I and a staff sergeant from CA sit with him, and I am assessing him in my head, trying to figure out what is wrong with him. He can't lay down because too much blood is going down his throat. Probably too much blood getting into his airways, keep him upright. Urgent Surgical, Lacerations to the face, possible loss of eyesight, lacerations left and right shoulder, shrapnel entrance wounds, scrape left leg. I am cutting away his uniform with a knife he gave me. Exposing his wounds, seeing how bad it might be. Other than on his face, none are terribly serious. His face scares the shit out of me. Out of my mouth are constant comfort and jokes and bullshit and anything I can think of. I am even telling him not to worry and telling him what I see. He is drowning I am describing the water.

WHERE THE FUCK IS THE CHOPPER?

Read the rest. Hat tip to Trying to Grok again.