by Bert Carson
Hunk looked closely and said, “I believe it is.”
“Why don’t you see if you can find out what happened to Howard.”
Hunk jumped off the loading dock and headed toward the police officer.
Meg and I watched as the staff returned for the second patient. Within seconds, the orderlies emerged from the ambulance with a stretcher that had a young boy strapped to it. He was conscious, smiling, and appeared unhurt.
Meg said, “It’s too soon to find out anything but let’s make our presence known at the ER reception desk to the person who can give us information. We went through the doorway we’d been heading for just minutes before. Instead of going straight down the corridor to the elevator that would have taken us to the children’s ward, we turned right into the emergency room waiting area.
At the reception window, I explained that we were children’s volunteers on the way to the children’s ward when we saw a friend arrive by ambulance. Meg, added, “His name is Howard Green. He’s a UM player. We’d appreciate it if you’d let us know how he is doing.”
The receptionist, Ms. Carey, according to her name tag, said, “You folks have a seat, I’ll stick my head in the back and see if I can find out anything. The only patients back there are your friend and the little boy they just brought in.”
We turned toward the waiting area as she disappeared into the back. Before we could sit down Hunk returned. “Officer Murphy said that a witness said that Howard was driving down Western, just a couple of blocks off the campus when a little boy rode his bike right in front of him, hit something in the road and fell. Howard swerved and smashed into a tree. The kid is fine, but Howard, who wasn’t wearing his seat belt, took a hard blow to the forehead from the steering wheel. Pete was only a block away when he got the call. He said when he got there, Howard was conscious, and asked how the boy was. By then the boy was standing up, and obviously not seriously hurt. Pete told Howard that he had not hit the boy and he was fine. He said Howard said, “Good,” smiled, closed his eyes and he’s been unconscious since that moment.
We sat down and began the wait. Patty returned in a few minutes. She came to me and said, “Brent is on the way.” He arrived ten minutes later. Before Brent came in, Bobby and Janet returned. Bobby came to me and said they had explained things to the children. He added that he and Janet had put an unhappy Flexible in the car. Hunk quickly shared the information he had gotten from Pete Murphy with them.
Ms. Carey returned and said, “Howard is still unconscious though his vitals are strong. The ER doctor has called in a neurosurgeon. They expect him within fifteen minutes. I’ll keep you posted.”
Meg asked, “How’s the little boy?”
Ms. Carey brightened, “He’s fine. His parents are on the way to pick him up.”
Ten minutes later a young couple entered and claimed their son. Before they left, they came over to us. The father, holding his son, spoke to Brent. “You’re Coach Jenkins, aren’t you?”
Brent stood, “That’s right.”
The man said, “I’m William Simpson, this is my wife, Nancy and our son, Jason. They told us in the back that a young man ran into a tree to avoid hitting Jason. Is he one of your players?”
“That’s right.”
“Coach, would you mind telling him that we are sorry he’s hurt, but we’ll always be grateful for what he did.”
“We’ll tell him, William.” The two men shook hands and the Simpson’s left.
Forty-five minutes later a doctor emerged from the back. He looked toward the waiting area and saw Brent. It was obvious the two men knew each other. Brent stood and walked toward him. We couldn’t hear their conversation, but in few minutes Brent returned and told us what he had said. They had thoroughly checked Howard and they there was no evidence of anything beyond a concussion. There didn’t appear to be any internal bleeding or fluid buildup, but they would continue to monitor him in ER until they were positive that was the case. They said they’d let us know as soon as there was any change.
An hour later Brent suggested that, it wasn’t necessary for all of us to be there. Meg and I volunteered to stay. Brent said, “Good, if you’ll call me at midnight I’ll either come back or I’ll have someone lined to relieve you.” Hunk took Bobby, Janet and Flexible to the house so Meg and I would have a car. Brent and Patty left, and we were alone in the empty waiting room.
Hourly, Ms. Carey, and later Ms. Addison, gave us reports. They were all the same, no change. Meg went to the cafeteria and got sandwiches and coffee. We waited. At 11:00 P.M., Ms. Addison gave us the now familiar, no change report. As she walked away, Meg said, “Josh, I’m not leaving Missoula until that boy is okay.”
I looked at her and said, “I thought it would be that way, Meg, and I’m not going to try to talk you out of it, but I am going to make a suggestion.”
“Okay, what is it.”
When we leave here, I’ll take you to the hotel. Check out and come to the house. We have two guest bedrooms and...” I ran of words.
Meg grinned and gently said, “And what, Josh.”
I blushed and said, “And I want you to be at the house, not three blocks away at a hotel.”
She laid her hand on mine, “That’s what I want too Josh. I’ll do it.”
At midnight, following another no change report, I called Brent. He told me that Howard’s parents were on the way from Denver. He said he would be taking the next watch because he wanted to be there when they arrived. He explained that he had set up a schedule of volunteers who wanted to wait and there was no shortage of them. Thirty minutes later, he was at the waiting room. Meg and I left and went directly to the Red Lion. I dropped her at the front door so she could pack and check out and I went to the house to make sure the guest bedroom was ready for occupancy.
Bobby and Janet were at the house and I updated them on Howard’s condition and told them that Meg was going to move into the guest bedroom until Howard recovered. Janet said, “I’ll take care of the guestroom, Daddy. Bobby added, “And I’ll help.” Twenty minutes later Meg was resettled at our house. Bobby walked Janet back to the dorm and Meg and I had a cup of tea. Before we turned in, Meg made me promise to wake her if I heard anything new from the hospital.
********
There was no news that night or the next. Howard’s parents, Michele and Wayne, arrived. Brent and Patty invited them to stay at their home and they agreed. Every day, twenty-four hours a day, there was someone with Howard. We talked to him; we read to him, Hunk even went over the playbook with him. There was no change for four days.
On Saturday morning, the day of the first round of the Division 1 championships, the nurses found a radio and bought it into his room. I had it in the back of my mind that might do the trick. But it didn’t.
Chapter 29
“Good afternoon fans, this is Jim Snow, with Charlie Jamerson on the Grizzly Football Network. Today we are speaking to you from a packed Washington Grizzly Stadium on a perfect afternoon for football in Missoula, Montana. This afternoon the Grizzlies are playing Georgia Southern in what we hope will be the first of three playoff games. After completing a perfect, undefeated, untied season, today we begin the play-offs that could lead to our first Division 1 National Championship. The Grizzlies, thanks to their perfect record, will have the home field advantage in every playoff game.”
Charlie interrupted, “We’ll have the advantage as long as we win. Before we bring you the starting lineup, I’d like to mention something that’s a bit more serious. Tuesday afternoon, Howard Green, the freshman lineman who has played so strong behind Tom Rice, was injured in an automobile accident. The team has dedicated this game to Howard and we just happen to know that his parents, Michele and Wayne are with him at the hospital and they are listening to this broadcast. Folks, we want you to know that you and Howard are in everybody’s prayers today.”
There was a short pause then Jim picked up the broadcast, “We’re going to take a commercial break and we’ll be
right back with an update on Daddy and Jeff Samuelson and give you the starting lineup for both teams.”
**********
“Well, folks, that’s the end of the first half. The teams are headed for the locker rooms with the score UM 7, Georgia Southern 0,” Charlie said.
Jim picked up the first half recap, “Charlie, Jeff Samuelson has looked good after missing the whole season. He seems smoother with each play, but its hard getting used to seeing Daddy on the sidelines.”
“Good point, Jim, but you know I’ve noticed something during the first half. It appears that Daddy doesn’t mind being on the sidelines. He’s helping Coach Jenkins signal in the plays and he also seems to be the head cheerleader. It looks like he’s having a great time.”
“I guess that’s to be expected from a forty-four year old quarterback,” Jim said laughingly, and then added, “Especially one who has nothing left to prove to his team, the fans or himself.”
********
Georgia Southern was tough. The game was a defensive struggle from the opening kickoff. Late in the second quarter, we scored and I kicked the extra point. We scored once more early in the fourth quarter and the final score was Georgia Southern 0, UM 14. The score was the Sunday headline in the Missoulian. The story ended with these lines, “Missoula will be the site of the Division I Semi Final Game, next Saturday, when the Grizzlies will face the Appalachian State Mountaineers.
*******
Saturday night at 8:00, I relieved Meg for the 8:00 to midnight shift with Howard. I’d been reading Round the Bend to him since Wednesday night. At eleven, I came to the last paragraph, the one I’d read recently at the hotel in Grand Junction.
I read,
…in the hangers of the Persian Gulf and on the tarmacs of the southern islands, I have walked and talked with God.”
I closed the book, looked at Howard, and said, “Well, what do you think, Howard.”
He opened his eyes, smiled and said, “Daddy that is an awesome book.”
I couldn’t say anything for a few seconds, and then, way too loudly, I said, “Wow! Howard, you’re back.”
He looked deep in my eyes and said, “Daddy, I was never gone. I just couldn’t talk.”
I called Meg and gave her the good news, and then I called Brent. In a few minutes, Meg, Bobby, Janet, Michele, Wayne, Patty and Brent were at the hospital. Within thirty minutes, everyone knew that Howard was back.
*********
Monday evening, despite the falling temperature, we had a packed house for the Vietnam meeting. Two professors, one from the psychology department and the other from the history department asked if they could attend a meeting. I told them that I would run it by the group and let them know. I made that the first topic of the evening, saying, “Two professors are interested in what we are doing in these meetings. They’ve asked if they can visit one of our sessions and I told them I’d ask you. Before you decide let me tell you what I think they have in mind. At a couple of west coast schools, there are courses about Vietnam that involve bringing Vietnam vets in to talk about their experiences. At every school where it’s happening, the courses are big hit. It sounds like what we are doing only on a larger scale. The professors want to visit us to get a firsthand idea whether a course like that would go over here. So, I guess there are two questions. First, do you think it would be valuable for other kids to hear what you’ve been hearing about Vietnam and second, is it all right with you for them to visit? If you agree to both questions raise your hand.” I scanned the room and said, “There’s no need to take a no vote. I’ll tell them to be here next Monday.”
That night we talked more about camaraderie, in Vietnam, on the team and in life in general. Having our personal experience as teammates made it easy to relate to the Vietnam experience of camaraderie. We broke up early because Coach Jenkins had inserted new plays and defensive sets for the Appalachian State game, and they required some study.
Meg had stayed over for the Monday night meeting. She left Tuesday morning after cooking a gigantic breakfast for the three of us and agreeing to come back for Appalachian State game. I told her that her room would be ready.
********
Friday evening, just after dark, she arrived in time to have supper with about a dozen members of the team who just happened to show up.
Other than the light dusting of snow that we gotten the week before, there had been no snow so far in Missoula. Word around town was the big snow was holding off for the final game. Whatever the reason, at game time Saturday, everyone agreed that it couldn’t have been a more perfect day for football. The temperature was in the high forties and the air seemed to sparkle.
It was a seesaw battle all afternoon. Neither team could put the other down permanently. The outcome was in question until late in the fourth quarter when a long pass from Jeff to Bobby scored what proved to be the winning touchdown.
The story in the Missoulian read, “The final score, 21 to 14, leaves the Grizzlies with only one game separating them from the Division 1 Championship. That game will be played on the UM campus next Saturday against the Indians of Northeast Louisiana.”
********
Sunday afternoon we gathered at the field house to watch films of Northeast Louisiana. It was quickly obvious that they were a powerhouse. We knew the championship game would, in fact, be a championship contest.
Meg decided to stay over for the Monday Vietnam meeting. She is an independent quality control consultant, and she brought enough work with her to keep a small office busy for a week. It was great having her, especially at mealtime, when she broke the seemingly endless string of hamburger and French fry meals.
Monday when we left for class, she was hard at work. At noon, Meg and I met Bobby and Janet at the school cafeteria. Afterwards, we headed out in four different directions. We practiced that afternoon until after five. When we got home, Meg had dinner ready. Bobby took one whiff and said, “I could get used to this.”
The house was packed for the Vietnam meeting. As promised, Professor Wilson of the history department, and Professor Gentry of the psychology department were there. I had an idea of what I’d discuss, but I knew that was subject to change. For once it didn’t. I introduced the professors and said, “I don’t normally tell jokes, at least not at these meetings. Tonight I’m going to make an exception because it relates to what I want to talk about. The morning after a hard night of drinking a man came to work nursing a hangover. In obvious pain, he explained to a friend, ‘I think I have finally figured this thing out. Drinking isn’t my problem. Sleep is the issue. I was fine until I went to bed.”
The old joke got a polite laugh and it gave me a great lead in for the topic I’d chosen. “What happened in Vietnam wasn’t noticeable to us as it was happening. I’m speaking of the psychological impact. We knew we were living in less than ideal conditions. We were aware that we could die in any moment of any day regardless of where we were or what we were doing. We knew those things, yet we had no idea what they were doing to us, until we went home. We got on the planes back to the U.S., feeling fine. We thought everything was over. We had survived and that was the end of it. We were like the drunk lying down to sleep. We woke up in a state that I’m not sure I can describe adequately, but I’ll try.”
I took a sip of water, and said, “I had dreamed of the plane trip from San Francisco to Birmingham, Alabama. In fact, I had it orchestrated. I thought that people would smile and wave at me and maybe a few would even say thank you for what I had done. My dreams had no basis in reality. After processing through Oakland Army Terminal, I was herded on to a bus heading for the San FranciscoInternationalAirport. As we drove through San Francisco hippies shouted at us and made obscene gestures. At the airport, it was the same. I couldn’t make eye contact with a single man or woman and I tried. The only part of my dream that went as I expected was my time with Kathy and I know I was lucky there. She had been with me at FortRucker and I had written every day while I was in Vietnam. She kn
ew what had happened inside me before I knew. Not many guys were as lucky as I was in that regard.”
“Even my father failed to understand. In fact, he was furious for years that had reenlisted and chosen the Army as my career. Had it not been for Kathy I might well have gone off the deep like most Vietnam vets did. And even with her beside me there were moments that I thought I was losing my mind. I thought everyone had changed while I was gone. It took a while for me to realize that I was the one who had changed.”
“Let me see if I can give you an example that will make more sense to you. Every one of you has been playing football for a long time. I doubt you can even remember a time when you weren’t a football player. Without realizing it, football has affected every part of your life, and I mean every part. You think like a football player, you talk like a football player, you are a football player and you always will be, long after you stop playing the game.”
“Vietnam had that same effect on everyone who was there. We came home warriors, without knowing that we had changed. We thought like warriors. We acted like warriors. We were warriors and didn’t even know it. We thought we were still teenagers but we weren’t. We’d become something else and we couldn’t change back. I believe the primary reason Vietnam vets won’t talk about the experience to anyone other than another Vietnam veteran is because they are afraid that if they do it will become real and they’ll never be able to change it. As I understand psychology, that’s a subtle form of denial but denial all the same.” I looked at Professor Gentry, and he nodded his confirmation.
“The irony of a Vietnam veteran’s refusal to talk is that talking about the experience is the key that will unlock the door. However talking requires a couple of things the average Vietnam veteran doesn’t have, first, the inclination to talk and second, a person or group of people who are willing to listen. I was lucky on both counts. Kathy listened and I mean she really listened. She asked questions and she wouldn’t let me stop talking until she had her answers. Now I have you guys to listen, and even though you might think I’m doing this for you, I’m not. I’m doing it for me. I need to talk about Vietnam. I need to talk about it until it has no more control over my life.”