Vietnam War Nurses

by Patricia Rushton

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  Merlan continued on in the Army Nurse Corps with his specialty in public health, eventually retiring from the corps after 21 years with the rank of lieutenant colonel and settling in Alaska.

  Lois Gay

  Lois Gay tells a story of the flight nurse during the Vietnam War. She tells it in great detail, helping the reader understand how important the flight nurse is during wartime. She also explains some of the emotional aspects of the Vietnam War not expressed in the same way by others.

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  I became a nurse because I watched my parents loving care for my brother, a cerebral palsy child, who was six years older than me. He could not walk or talk and had seizures most every day. As I got older, I realized the special care he needed and received. Having him at home taught us acceptance of those that are different and patience in caring for him unconditionally.

  I graduated from Mercy Hospital School of Nursing in Altoona, Pennsylvania, in 1964 as a diploma nurse. Two classmates and I moved to Washington, D.C., and began work at George Washington University Hospital (GW). I wanted to work pediatrics, but GW didn’t have a pediatrics department, so I worked on orthopedics. One of the nurses on my ward had just joined the Air Force and was being assigned to Washington state. I commented how neat that was. Her Air Force Recruiter called me that evening. He connected me with the nurse recruiter. I told her I wanted to work on pediatrics. She told me since the military at that time only had the operating room specialty for nurses, I would be signed in as a staff nurse. If my heart was set on pediatrics, the Air Force was not for me. If, however, I was willing to try, I would have a two-year commitment. The benefits were exceptional for a young nurse; 30 days of vacation annually, sick time if you needed it for however long it was necessary.

  I took my oath in April 1965. Soon after that, my father became very ill and I left GW to return home to help my family. I talked to the recruiter and she put a hold on orders to become active. While at home, I worked at a school and hospital for retarded children where I thought maybe my brother could be placed.

  That November my roommate from GW came home for Thanksgiving and had mail for me. She had not forwarded the mail since she was coming home. I had a letter welcoming me to Gunter Air Force Base, Montgomery, Alabama, for orientation and Maxwell Air Force Base as a new assignment. I was to report Jan. 6, 1966! I talked to a local recruiter and discussed the situation with my parents and left for the Air Force in Jan. 1966 with good wishes from all. They told me my brother was not my child and that I needed to try my wings and enjoy my career. My new job was on pediatrics! I was thrilled. My brother died unexpectedly Feb. 8, 1966, and my father died May 10, 1966, after a long illness. I used 21 days of annual leave that I had not yet earned, but I was happy where I was and made the best of it.

  After a difficult year personally, I requested to go to flight nurse school and was granted that request as a first lieutenant. The slots were few and most always given to the highest ranking person applying. I was very fortunate! At that time those that finished flight school did not automatically get a flying assignment. Another surprise: I received a flying assignment out of Clark Air Force Base, Philippine Islands, when I finished flight school.

  I reported to Clark Air Force Base, Philippines, in March 1967. I was 24 years old. The 902nd AES (air evacuation squadron) would be my home for the next 18 months. We flew in C–118s which had four propellers and could hold 20 liters of fuel and had 30 airline seats. We were equipped to give meds; oral, IM, IV, clean wounds and keep patients stable. Most patients were thrilled to see us because we were a big step to going home. The majority of the patients were amputees and gunshot wounds. Those on litters were in pajamas. Those walking were in uniform. It was always wonderful to get airborne because it was cool and the stench of the wounds was less.

  We had four routine missions going to six different countries.

  1. Clark Air Force Base, Philippines (AFB, PI), to Vietnam, deadheading (no patients). We spent the next 4 hours going to various bases along the coast of South Vietnam picking up patients. We would take patients to Cam Ranh Bay to the regional Army hospital and spend the night (RON). The next day was in-country Vietnam or a down day depending on the time we were returning to Clark.

  2. Clark AFB, PI, to Vietnam, picking up patients and spend the night at Cam Ranh Bay. The second day we would either deadhead or take Thai patients back to Thailand. We would stop at various bases in Thailand and move sick troops to Bangkok for treatment at the regional Army hospital. We would RON and then the 3rd day stop in Vietnam, pick up patients and take them to Clark.

  3. Clark AFB, PI, to Korea. We would stop in Taiwan to refuel but Korean patients could not be off-loaded there, so it was just a brief stop. Once in Korea we had three places we could stop but we always ended at Osan AFB, Korea, for an RON. The second day we took American GIs that needed medical care to Japan. We flew to Tachikawa AFB, Japan. Third day we would do in-country missions in Japan and bring GIs or their dependents to Tachikawa for treatment or to deliver a baby. Fourth day we stopped at Kadena AFB, Okinawa, to off-load any patients returning from treatment in Japan. We would also pick up any patients needing treatment at Clark.

  4. Clark AFB, PI, to Subic Bay, PI. We usually flew in a C–130 for this mission because it accommodated more patients and we went there to get patients from the hospital ships. It was only a half-hour flight but it was very hectic and we could give no meds or treatments. Our mission was to transport, but again, the morale was very high.

  Special missions always originated at Clark for us. They may be initiated because we were told POWs (Prisoner of War) were being released near the Thailand/North Vietnamese Border or the Pueblo POWs (Korea) were going to be released. We would be dispatched to an area close to the release point and wait. We waited in four-day increments and then were replaced with another crew.

  We usually had two nurses on a flight. Special missions may only have one. I was on such a mission in Thailand, which meant I had my own room. We were in a small town and a hotel with no security. I was scared to death. Our crew was like brothers to the nurses and I bunked in their room because I was afraid to be alone. They teased me but they understood and were very protective. Waiting is no easy thing but then again those we were waiting for had far more they were dealing with. I was on several special missions but never got to see the prisoners released.

  Captain Lois Gay, at nursing trailer, 1969 Cam Ranh Bay South, Vietnam.

  I did go on a special mission to Iwo Jima, Japan, to pick up a patient who happened to be the medic assigned there. He broke his leg playing baseball. Before we left to get him we were given several bags of mail and some supplies and had the medic’s replacement. They only got things by boat and that was not on a routine basis. We landed and the first thing I was asked was: “Do you need to use the latrine?” We had a “honey pot” (like an outhouse) on the C–130 which we flew in for that mission. I was going to say “no” but then said yes. Those assigned there got very little company and seldom a woman so they had cleaned the bathroom and put a “Women” sign up! Of course everybody knew where I went but they were happy I used it! I then got the patient and the first thing he said to me was, “Thanks for using the latrine!”

  We had a special mission to Pleiku, Vietnam, to pick up Vietnamese POWs. It was more in-country and farther north than we usually went in our C–118s. We had a red cross on our tail but we did get fired on from time to time. Those on the ground brought the patients up the ramp to our door and our medical technicians took them from there. We were picking up three POWs. I was the charge nurse so the report was given to me and I inspected the patients as they arrived. The first one up was in position to be handed to our men and those carrying him dropped the litter! I was shocked and the pilot who was watching was just as shocked. The anger in the faces of those young GIs was eerie. The second patient was brought up by other litter bearers and they did the same thing. I wanted to scream at them but I
couldn’t even speak. The third patient was brought up and the transfer was as it should be. We got airborne as quickly as possible. Later, the pilot (a major) asked me why I did not reprimand the litter bearers. I replied that all I could think of was that we were there briefly to pick up the POWs and then gone. They were living much more stress day after day. It did not justify their actions but I did respect their situation and also that they were just kids doing the toughest job ever.

  My last solo mission was in Thailand where I was staying in a hotel in Bangkok to relieve one of the nurse’s stationed there. I had to lock my medical kit up at the squadron. During the night I woke up with a start! I had been bitten on the face by something and my face was swelling rapidly. I called the squadron and one of the medical techs came with medication to counter the reaction. He took me to the Army hospital for further treatment. I was grounded so could not fulfill my mission there and had to wait three days before I could return to flying. I also got a different room that I had sprayed for insects before I entered.

  There were times when we would land at Clark in the late afternoon. The Air Force Band would come out and play music as the litters and ambulatory patients were off-loaded to welcome them closer to home! It was such a wonderful feeling to see everyone so happy. I thought I was very mature when I got to Clark but soon realized I was very naïve. The heartache of war took many forms, but realizing the majority of my patients were six to seven years younger than me was sometimes very difficult. Those that survived had so much to face once returning home with just physical problems not to mention the psychological injuries that might never heal. There was also much social stigma at that time. It was like leaving one war and dealing with an entirely different kind of war.

  I was then assigned to Luke Air Force Base, Arizona, as a hospital nurse. It was quite an adjustment to be back to routine nursing in an older hospital. I had worked with all top notch folks, each with experience in the medical field as well as time in the Air Force. Now I was working with new med techs that had not been well taught or who were on their first assignment. I now had to regroup and face a different challenge. Most returning veterans didn’t talk about the Vietnam conflict because it was so unpopular. They just wanted to get on with their lives. It seemed strange to get back into everyday life where we had all the comforts and everything we did was not daring and dangerous. Fitting back into a routine and finding a personal niche was very difficult for most everyone after that total experience.

  In 1995 an Air Force nurse friend who was assigned in Vietnam while I was flying there, came to visit me at Bolling Air Force Base, Washington, D.C. She wanted to visit the Vietnam Wall. I had not been to see it. I just couldn’t go there. We went together. It was a beautiful spring day and we got in a long line to walk by the wall. It was like going into a funeral home, the area was quiet and respectful. Many were touching and rubbing the wall. She recognized many names and “rubbed” a few. Since my contact with my patients was only a matter of hours on a flight, I didn’t come to know anyone by name. My patients were the ones who survived. They either carried the hurt and injury silently or were the amputees and homeless in the streets.

  The Vietnam Women’s Memorial was dedicated in 1993. That event brought military nurses from all over the country together. I did not plan to attend at first because I only spent six years in the Air Force. Most of my friends remained in the Air Force and were lieutenant colonels or colonels. The day of the dedication we all gathered down by the Smithsonian’s history museum. I saw the 902nd banner and met up with many that I flew with. Each of my friends went with their respective groups. We walked down Constitution Avenue with throngs of people on both sides of the street. We each got big hugs from “bikers” (Rolling Thunder) with the “Thank YOU Nurse!” It was wonderful to see more people there than listed on “The Wall.”

  We had a full weekend of remembering, crying, sharing and being truly thankful for this great country of ours. As nurses, we all talked about how young the men were and all those returning had so many challenges to face. We also discussed how we had each grown and all that we saw as young women. We were all serving in the military because we chose to, the men were drafted and had to serve. Even though many of us thought we were prepared for jobs, we had no idea all that it involved. We stuck together and helped each other as well. That bond has served us well.

  I am writing these memories 44 years later. The aircraft is changed, the role of the flight nurse is different but as necessary. Sad to say, war continues. I’m happy to report that those who serve are recognized and appreciated for their service. Morale is high and that is the first step in a good recovery.

  Sandra Kirkpatrick Holmes

  This story demonstrates the difficulty of caring for patients in war time and the dedication of the nurses who do it. However, it also demonstrates that there is humor in the horrors of war.

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  As I look back and reflect, my career and many aspects of my life were quite serendipitous. I graduated from Nether Providence High School, in southeastern Pennsylvania in 1961 and was accepted at the University of Michigan. Going to Michigan was one of the first serendipitous events. The second occurred several years later, when I was looking for information about funding opportunities. On the bulletin board in the school of nursing there was a tear-off about the Army Nurse Corps Candidate Program. I called the Army recruiter. Anything I asked her was, “Of course you can,” “Yes, the Army will send you to graduate school,” “Being stationed in Europe is no problem at all,” Anything I asked, the answer was “yes,” which raised some issues and questions. It sounded too good to be true, and if it is you better look further.

  Based on the advice of one of my professors, I contacted the Navy recruiter. The Navy had the same program as the Army. I applied and was selected. I came into the Navy Nurse Corps in July 1964, as a Navy Nurse Corps candidate. My tuition, books and fees were all paid by the Navy for my entire senior year. I received a small salary, which increased once I was commissioned as an officer, six months before graduation. In return, I owed them two years. When I got to pick where I wanted to go for duty, I had never been further west than Ann Arbor Michigan, so I put down all West Coast duty stations and received orders to the Naval Hospital, Oakland, California, also known as Oak Knoll.

  I graduated from nursing school in May 1965, went to Newport, Rhode Island, for Officer Indoctrination School in August, and in September reported into Oakland. When I was asked where I would like to be assigned, I said pediatrics. They said, “No, think again.” I had done my senior team leading on an orthopedic floor and I enjoyed that. So, I said orthopedics. They said, “Great. We need you on ortho.”

  Oakland was comprised of multiple single-story, wooden, barracks-type structures that had been built during World War II as temporary buildings. All of the wards and some clinics were connected by a series of wooden ramps and stairways. The orthopedic “ramp” or area consisted of four ortho wards, the urology ward and the ortho and urology clinics. Two wards or a ward and a clinic were connected by a much shorter “hallway” almost in the middle which formed an H. Each ward had 40 beds, 20 beds on either side. By the ramp there were two private rooms, the ward medical officer’s office, the nurse’s station and a treatment room. The utility room, the showers and heads (bathrooms) were all located in the middle connector section. Each building had a two-digit number and either an A or a B. One of the things that I constantly worried about was fire and evacuating the patients. Because those buildings were so old, I was told they would burn to the ground in less than five minutes! Very scary for a new grad.

  When I first arrived at Oak Knoll, the ortho wards were all in the 40s and were located on the south side of the compound. Within a few days, we were relocated to 74A and 74B on the opposite side of the compound. A brand new hospital was going to be constructed right where the 40s ramp was located. I hadn’t even received my state board results yet, but I was assigned to transport all of the narcotics
from the narcotics locker on the ward that was closing to the new one. I got to the new ward with this bag full of narcotics, but nobody had the keys for the narcotic locker. We couldn’t find the supervisor, so there I was hugging this brown shopping bag full of narcotics walking around thinking, “Oh my gosh, somebody’s going to knock me off.” Fortunately, I only had to “guard” the drugs for an hour or so and the rest of the move was uneventful. The lab, central sterile supply (CSR) and the orthopedic operating room remained close to where the former ortho wards had been. Our patients were transferred back and forth to the operating room in an ambulance. All of our bedridden patients were transported around the compound in an ambulance.

  We didn’t have crash carts. IV bottles, thermometers and syringes were all made of glass. Nurses had to match the number on the barrel of the syringe with the number on the plunger and keep them together with an elastic band before sending them to CSR for sterilization. Thermometers, suture sets, and glass syringes all had to be counted. If you didn’t have a dirty one to turn in, you could not get a clean one without begging on bended knee. The 4×4s came in a great big loaf, and we had to make up our own smaller packages of 4×4s. We’d get the paper and tape from CSR and the bed patients could take half a dozen 4×4s, wrap, fold and tape the paper around them. It was good therapy. That was the, “You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours” kind of thing we often did between departments.