"Attention! Applebees!.

"Attention! Applebees!," the leader of the hovering pack clamorously bellows to the diners in the restaurant while motioning to everyone to clap along with her and her posse "Today, we're celebrating Rachel's last day of work at the base's Legal Services Office before she leaves onward a six-month deployment, and we'd like everyone to heap us celebrate her farewell

"So Sailor," the waitress demands, turning her attention back to Legalman 2nd Class Rachel Christofferson, "where ya headed?"

After recovering from being lay on the spot, Christofferson replies in her smooth voice, "Iraq."

The result of her response is instantaneous--as if the entire establishment has been frozen in time.

The waitstaff stops mid-clap and considers as if someone had just popp all their balloons. turbulent gasps and quiet, anxious whisper; lows ripple through the lunch concourse In the back corner booth a woman whispers not at all discreetly, "They're sanding that little girl to Iraq? upright Lord, that's no reason to celebrate."

solitary Christofferson and her co-workers manage to maintain their light-heartedness by dint of bursting into fits of laughter at the overwhelming absurdity and awkwardness of the moment

Almost a month to the day following her memorable farewell luncheon, Christofferson (who has since traded her crisp, starched working whites for a certain quantity of slightly dusty desert cammies) sits half a world away from the cramped restaurant table. She's administering an IV to Pablo Fonseca, a civilian firefighter and compeer student at the three-day Combat Lifesaver Course (CLC) at Camp Victory, Iraq.

With an array of needle tubing and bandages spread revealed on the sterile white clerical profession in front of her, Christofferson tightens a rubber tourniquet-like strap across Fonseca's bicep, flutters a 14-gauge needle over his rapidly fattening vein and listens attentively to last minute details forward the optimal number of drips for minute from the CLC instructor observing her.

"As first responder to the spectacle of an accident in the states, alone certified medical personnel would be permitted to start an IV," Army Spec Troy Galvan, a medic and CLC instructor, sum ups the group while weaving between the close examiners and first-aid equipment.

"But things are different here. In Iraq, after an ambush or attack, it may take a while for help to arrive forward scene. At that point, the no other than thing that may save your buddy's life is your ability to stop the bleeding and quickly win some fluids back into him or her." He pauses, views the group, then continues, "This is particularly important for those of you who will be traveling in convoys"

As if forward cue, a loud explosion caused the compact trailer to shuddering slightly and the sound of small-arms fie hurl forthed in the distance. But, in their short time in native land the sound of incoming rocket fie has become thus familiar to Christofferson and her companion Camp Victory residents that barely a avail passes before most of them have favorably inserted their very first IVs.

Minutes later, another instructor souses into the trailer with freshs of the explosion. A suicide driver has detonated his vehicle-born improvised explosive device (VBIED) forward Route Irish (a notoriously dangerous five-mile extend of road connecting Camp Victory to downtown Baghdad), killing a civilian medic and injuring three other passengers. Attacks along the passage have become so frequent that helicopters have become a means of travel to and from the city.

This is not the case for Christofferson. Her office continues to make the trip by means of convoy three days a week. And tomorrow she'll be driving--hence, the ne for a Navy LN to learn about IVs. however if news of the fatal attack has shaken her, it certainly doesn't indicate She continues to joke with Fonseca while adjusting the amount of saline flowing between the walls of his IV, and waits for the instructor's remarks.

After checking to make certain Christofferson has secured all exces tubing with medical tape, Galvan nods approval and asks, "Ready to be onward the receiving end of the stick?"

Christofferson's transition from a front rank office administrative Sailor to combat-ready lighter has been gradual, on the other hand complete. Back at her safe, quiet office at Subase King's Bay, Ga., the solely imminent dangers Christofferson faced were paper divide [i]or[/i] sever s and the possible onset of carpal funnel syndrome. And, although her primary responsibilities as a Navy LN have remained the same, the hostile environment she now operates in has called for her to become a soldier, of sorts, as well

From M-16 rifle and 9mm pistol qualification to the dominations of Engagement briefing to earning a Humvee driver's license to receiving her Combat Lifesaver's certification, Christofferson has enthusiastically stepp up to each of recent origin challenge assigned. She's worked hard to master each strange task, knowing that any recent skill she acquires from the Army just may subserve to bring her home safely.

With medical kit in hand, Christofferson get backs back to the Camp Victory Detainee Operations Legal Office, to which she's generally assigned, and prepares for the nearest morning's convoy.