slatten49 Loc: Lake Whitney, Texas

I will be posting, for a few days, as a tribute to all military field medical personnel, a series of stories by a Vietnam combat nurse, Ann Watts. All of these stories are taken from VVA Veteran's Magazine...VVA representing Vietnam Veterans of America.
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'Letter From Home,' by Ann Watts

The 67th Evac consisted of a cluster of Quonset huts huddled together at one end of the airstrip, just over the back wall of our children's rehabilitation center. The huts housed the broken young men of America, wounded in body and spirit. The casualty receiving area looked out onto the tarmac where choppers landed with sickening regularity. Teams of medics, men and women, hunched over to avoid the spinning rotor blades, ran out trundling gurneys between them, and unloaded the men from the Dustoff choppers. I stood in awe of those courageous Huey pilots who rescued the wounded; and I so admired those nurses and doctors working in such circumstance.

For the female nurse, life was particularly restrictive. It was difficult and unwise for them to leave their bases because of the unstable security situation, and most times they were too exhausted anyway. But some sought a little change of scene by visiting our children's center.

In turn, they suggested we come to their hospital and do a bit of volunteering. The first time I went over to the 67th, I was sent to the surgical unit to sit with a badly wounded soldier, hooked up to blood and saline drips. I could see only one of his eye through his heavy bandaging...and that eye looked a******lly bright and not focusing well. A chest drain protruded from the bloodied bandages around his torso; the fluid level barely moved, so shallow was the swing up, down, up, down in the glass tube, marking his labored breathing. Nothing was draining into the bottle of his urinary catheter. Not a drop. It was not a good sign.

I sat down quietly beside his cot and took his hand with a gentle squeeze. That eye swiveled in my direction, and he slowly, softly returned the squeeze.

He wanted something. "Water?" I asked.

The eye blinked and he gave my hand another soft squeeze. he was unable to suck on a straw, so I dampened some cotton swabs and brushed them across the soldier's lips. His colorless tongue peeped out, and I kept on squeezing little drops of fluid onto his dry and bloodless lips. Every now and again there a slight pressure on my hand, almost imperceptible but definitely there.

His surgeon approached, then crouched down, put his hand under the pillow beneath the mortally wounded head, and brought out a letter. "Jeff, there's a letter for you. Would you like hear it? Is it okay for Anne to read your letter to you?" Jeff squeezed my hand.

I opened the sealed letter and slowly began reading it out loud. It was a letter from a wife to her husband. Her love for him lifted off the page, and I felt embarrassed voicing the intimate words meant only for him

'Dearest Jeff,

My love for you grows day by day, hour by hour. I have some wonderful news for you, honey. I wanted to wait until we are together, when I can look into your eye, but the happiness is more than I can bear alone, and I have to tell you now, my darling. When we met in Hawaii, I thanked God for allowing us to be together again. Now I have part of you growing inside me. I am carrying our child. Please come home soon. Know that I love you and pray for the day we can be together. Be strong, my darling. Be safe. We are both waiting for you.

Your Jeanie'

It wasn't a long letter and I sensed that she, bursting with the joy of new life, somehow knew what he was facing. She was willing her husband to survive. I felt embarrassed and privileged and heartbroken all at the same time to be the messenger. Jeff squeezed my hand when I said his wife's name.

But after I reached the end of the letter, the touch of his hand faded and the fluid level in the chest drain stilled. Jeff had quietly slipped away.
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This article is a condensed excerpt from Anne Watt's 2010 book, Always the Children: A Nurse's Story of Home and War, published by Simon & Shuster and available at amazon.com

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Thanks for posting.

I've always said that one of the most important things to an injured soldier is the compassion and simple touch of a female nurse as he lays there. Reading that letter for that man, in the voice of a female, reading the words of his wife, was the last sounds he heard and he died a little happier, if only for that moment. Ladies should remember, when lying there mortally wounded, their presence is something that can't be measured and all wounded soldiers that were ever in that position will testify to that.

Not putting down male nurses or medics. There is just something special in the female touch and presence, and giving the wounded the will to live if at all possible.

Thanks to all of those dedicated ladies the world over.

slatten49 Loc: Lake Whitney, Texas

Having been tended to by "those dedicated ladies" on the USS Sanctuary in the summer of '68, I can vouch for the veracity of your comments.

A number of years ago, I had the distinct pleasure of running into one of those Sanctuary nurses at the Traveling Wall in Pflugerville, Texas. It was one of the most poignant moments of my life as we held and hugged each other for several minutes, with tears in both our eyes. Her first words to me were "I was hoping to run into one of my boys at The Wall." I laughingly told her she had been one of those older women we lusted after while still recovering in our beds.

lindajoy Loc: right here with you....

The very worst to even imagine, I sure am glad Anne was there to speak the words of love as that soldier t***sitioned to yet a further calling..

You sure know how to bring emotion filled with such p***e for every one of you that served..

Thank You, slattt for yet another glimpse of our hero's..!!!!

The Ultimate.....😥

lindajoy Loc: right here with you....

As expected I might add... lolol

Quakerwidow Loc: Chestertown, MD

Glad you mentioned this in today's post, as I would not otherwise have gone looking for it.

slatten49 Loc: Lake Whitney, Texas

You're welcome. Posting these stories is an attempt to see that military field medical personnel get due credit for their service. I will be posting several more this weekend...maybe a couple a day.

lpnmajor Loc: Arkansas

I've met many of those Nurses who served in Vietnam, even served with some of them myself, and many were my role models. I was talking to a crusty old Nurse one day, and asked her what she thought was her greatest contribution during the war. With a confusing look of p***e and sadness she replied " making sure none of my boys died alone ". I think that reply had a more profound effect on my own career than anything else. I couldn't save everybody despite my very best efforts, but I could make damn sure they knew that someone who cared was there at the end. THAT is the hardest task I've ever faced, and I still do it when I can.

BTW, I lusted after some of those ladies myself. Not to try and make Slats jealous or anything..............but I, um, got to know some of them, um, really, really well.

slatten49 Loc: Lake Whitney, Texas

By playing doctor, the only nurse I got to know "really, really well," came many years later...after I became (in my mind) an 'operator.'

lpnmajor Loc: Arkansas

A surgical strike? With pinpoint accuracy I'm sure.

slatten49 Loc: Lake Whitney, Texas

As I recall, yes.

slatten49 Loc: Lake Whitney, Texas

'Navy nurses had a significant role in the Vietnam “Combat Zone” from 1963 to 1971 and world wide throughout the entire conflict. They felt very personally the startling impact of duty “in country”. Their memories are still vivid and their words tell the story. The stress of being a nurse, and particularly a woman, in the combat arena was depicted well by RADM Shea, who was an operating room supervisor aboard the REPOSE: The woman becomes a substitute mother, wife, lover, sister—the shoulder to cry on. You listen to the corpsmen, physician, ship’s company officers, and enlisted...Even the chaplain seeks out the nurse with his problems. It was okay to discuss problems with the nurse -the woman. The men seemed to be able to share some aspects of their lives with women they could not share with men. But the nurse - the woman - would not share with anyone, not with other nurses, staff, or line personnel. We might have seen ourselves as being judged weak, not being able to take it, and decided not to share our own problems with others—to tough it out.' (U.S. Navy Medicine, 1983).