What did you do in the war?

What did you do in the war? Most people do not know I was in the Army or in Vietnam. I rarely, if ever, tell people and only been asked a handful of times "What did you do in the war?" When they find out I was in Vietnam. I simply say "I worked in a hospital." Usually at that point in time the asshole will say, "Oh, that's it? Let me tell you about the Grunts, the firefights, what they did and had to go through, etc." This coming from a guy 20 years younger than I am who was never in the service. And for over 40 years I have felt so unworthy. I didn't fight and suffer like those out in the jungle. I wasn't wounded, maimed or killed. And worse of all I was always so afraid the Grunt's hated me and considered me a coward.

What did I do in the war? It is time for me to say. I was stationed at the 24th Evacuation Hospital in Long Binh on January 1st, 1971.  I was told they didn't need an MOS 72B20, Communications Specialist. I had no medical knowledge. After a couple days I was assigned to the A&D (Admissions and Disposition). That was part of the ER, just separated by a short cloth curtain. I got my first taste of war that day. The A&D radio constantly coming to life regarding incoming choppers. Codes I didn't understand coming over that radio; traumatic amputations to the arms, legs and feet; head wounds; DOA; Gun Shot Wounds to the face; chest; etc. And the scrambling of those in A&D to grab gurneys running out to the choppers to bring in the wounded.

What did I do in the war? I worked a minimum of 12 hours from 1800 to 0700 hrs. I answered the radio and gathered information regarding the incoming. I let the ER know what we had coming in. I took the wounded off the choppers, many times climbing into the chopper amid wounded GI's tossed in on top of each other. I'd get them out and onto a litter and gurney in the darkness of night not knowing what to expect or if they were dead, alive or just what their wounds were. I put my hand under a GIs head and find most of it was gone from being blown off from an ambush using a Claynmore mine. I'd rush the wounded into the ER and try to get personal information from them, get them a number for blood work, etc. and an armband on. Many times during mass casualties I'd get the armbands ready and list the names as Unk GI 1, Unk GI 2, Unk GI 3, etc. along with individual numbers knowing there was no time to get any additional information as the wounded just kept coming and coming. I'd help in anyway I could. I'd cut off bloody uniforms, pump an ambu bag to keep them breathing, help bandage and dress wounds, etc. And not all incoming was a battle casualty. There were heart attacks, snake bites, motor vehicle accidents, a GI with an almost severed leg from a chain saw accident. There were drug overdoses, GI's who were fragged by other GI's mamasan's giving birth, dog bites, chopper and plane crashes and the very worst as far I was concerned the burn victims. And in between all of this we would have the drunks come in, or an injured NVA POW who grabbed a scalpel trying to slash you or a mentally unstable GI trying to fire an M16 and kill you.

Once the wounded were taken care of, or at least being worked on, it was time to take care of the dead. The dead soldier may have died in the field, on the way in or in the ER. Most times I would be in the Morgue by myself with a GI in a bag on a litter on the floor of the Morgue. I remember looking down at a young man who looked like he was sleeping. I slowly cut off all his clothing. I'd took off his dog tags and cut off any rings or jewelry he may have had on. I remember the body still being warm and I wondered if they made a mistake, maybe he was alive, but that was not to be. Once that was all completed I'd fill out a tag and tag his toe, zip up the bag and then tag the bag. I'd then go into the hospital and log in all his belongings and put them in a bag so they would be returned to his family. I'd then get another GI to come help me lift up the litter and get him on a rack in the Morgue making room for possibly another death. Graves Registration would be called to come pick up the body. There were times when I would be there in the Morgue with another GI to take care of the dead especially those who had received very traumatic wounds. I once helped post op taking care of several South Vietnamese dead with an Ambulance driver as so many were dying on the ward they needed help. Our emotions so screwed up at the time and him being mad at me for getting him involved. But I had to so something. I could only think of how bad it must be for those alive being surrounded by the dead on that ward.

Every day was exhausting and many times after all was said and done it'd get quiet and I'd look down at the blood on my fatigues, my hands and in my mind I'd wonder if if this really wasn't a dream.

I always prayed for these young men and their families. And for some reason felt so close to them as if one of my own had been injured or died. I always wanted to tell families that there was someone there as your child was dying who listened and spoke with them or that there was someone who treated their remains with respect and honor.

My life has always been filled with such inner sadness and I feel such loss for these you men who were wounded or died. And that sadness continues. Those days are so long ago yet I remember it everyday and I know it will be that way every day of my life until I die. And I hope that when I die I will be reunited with these young men.

So that is what I did in the war. And I must try to remember what one Grunt in from the field in a mass casualty situation said to me:

"I don't know how you do this every day. I am so glad I am out in the field because I would not be able to do this."

Thank you my brother.