By Pamela Kulokas
OLYMPIA, Wash. -- Doctor James "Jim" Sebesta has
saved countless lives during his 25-year career as an Army trauma surgeon. But
on Sunday, Oct. 1, he found himself without supplies, surrounded by a sea of
people mowed down by gunman Stephen Paddock at the Route 91 Harvest Festival in
Las Vegas.
"I've been in a lot of bad places in my career and seen
lots of (mass casualties), but in the Army we were ready for them,"
Sebesta said. "And the other thing is there was a reason for it -- it was
war. This was the most devastating thing I've ever seen. I could not believe
it. It took me a long time when we started hearing the shots because I just
could not believe that somebody would do this."
Sebesta said he and his wife saw the muzzle flashes coming
from the 32nd floor of the Mandalay Bay Resort and Casino, where the sniper
used 23 guns to terrorize innocent concert-goers in the deadliest mass shooting
in modern U.S. history.
When the onslaught finally stopped, more than 500 people
were wounded, and scores were dying in front of the concert stage. Sebesta, his
wife and friends, who were hunkered down in the VIP tent, had somehow survived
the violence, but they feared the gunfire would start again any moment, Sebesta
said.
They made the decision to pick themselves up and get out of
there.
"As I ran, I looked out over the field and saw multiple
people out there -- people doing CPR, people trying to carry people -- and I
just ... I couldn't not go help them," Sebesta said.
Knowing every second is crucial to a gunshot victim, Sebesta
made the call to run toward danger instead of away from it. He asked his
friends to take his wife to safety, then turned, jumped over the fence and
headed back.
There were skilled medical providers all over the place,
Sebesta said -- nurses, emergency medical technicians and even a few doctors.
Sebesta retired as a colonel from Madigan Army Medical Center in 2016 and now
works for the MultiCare Health System as a bariatric and general surgeon.
Despite his training and experience, Sebesta had no medical
equipment or supplies of any kind with him at the time. He saw a man, shot in
the back -- his son plugging the bullet hole with his fingers. Another, a girl,
was shot through the neck and needed to establish an airway that Sebesta knew
would not arrive soon enough.
Twenty-two thousand people had attended the concert, and all
of them needed to get off the field and out of the line of fire.
"We knew that we had to get them somewhere where they
had medical supplies," Sebesta said.
The mission became less about lifesaving measures and more
about evacuating, he said. From person to person, Sebesta went to help, tearing
down fencing for a makeshift gurney to carry people about 40 yards from the
front of the stage to the nearby House of Blues, where they could be loaded into
vehicles.
"It's all a blur," he said. "You were just
running as fast as you can, and grabbing somebody and going back and grabbing
somebody else."
Sebesta's friend, Stephen Williams of Edmonds, Wash., was
right on his tail. Many others also helped evacuate victims.
"We did everything we possibly could just to comfort
people," Williams said. "We were stepping in and around many bodies,
wounded and otherwise, just trying to do whatever we could to help. Like Jim
said, there are no heroes per se, there were just a lot of willing people that
I saw trying to help others survive."
Sebesta doesn't like the word hero, he said, pointing out
the others who also answered the call.
"Everybody that was on that field, whether they were
skilled or not, helped carry somebody off that field who probably lived,"
Sebesta said.
Tragically, not everyone was as fortunate. Among the 58
people killed in the attack was a person with ties to Joint Base Lewis-McChord.
Denise Burditus, who helped launch the Association of the United States Army,
Captain Meriwether Lewis subchapter in Lacey, was killed in the shooting
Sunday. According to the Lacey subchapter, Denise died in the arms of her
husband, Tony Burditus, who retired from 1st Special Forces Group, at JBLM,
just a year ago.
Hours later, Sebesta was able to reunite with his wife. The
two traveled home to Olympia, and Sebesta recently resumed his work as a
surgeon. In the days since, he said there have been a lot of emotions and a few
tears when he sees his children.
Sebesta said he is taking time to heal by talking with his
wife and friends who were there that night. Instead of focusing on his own
actions or the horror of what he saw, he's choosing to remember everyone who
put their lives on the line for others, he said.
"The way everybody came together and helped each other
-- it wasn't about who was a doctor or who was a nurse; it was about what we
had to do to get people out of there," he said. "That gives me hope
that we'll move past this and keep on going."
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