THE HAPPY HAT Read online

  The Happy Hat

  By

  Peter Glassman

  Copyright: February 2015 by Peter Glassman

  A Talisman is a good luck charm. It can be anything once associated with pleasant happenstance. It could even be a hat–a Happy Hat.

  Peter Glassman

  The characters and events portrayed in THE HAPPY HAT are fictionalized and if anything seems familiar it’s purely coincidental or may represent flashback to my other Queens Naval Hospital novels. The background environment stems from my years of military service as a Navy Medical Officer in three major stateside Naval Hospitals.

  Peter Glassman MD, PhD, LCDR, Medical Corps, USNR

  Dedicated to my wife Barbara and my children David, Michael and Tracy.

  Chapter 1

  Air-evac January 1973

  Most often a supportive tactical group such as an artillery company was emplaced back from the front lines. Artillery pieces were set up to provide close support to Marine or Army troop drop zones. Huey choppers would arrive on mass and with great pulsating noise announce their presence to the enemy. If the marines encountered hostile combat forces upon insertion the call would go out to the artillery perimeter. Today the weather was mild with no significant wind to factor in for projectile trajectories.

  Marine Artillery Sergeant William Stiles got a call soon after a company of marines arrived four miles from his field artillery position. He was part of a group of artillery pieces that included self-propelled guns on tank-like platforms, long range field pieces and shorter trajectory howitzers.

  “Fire three rounds and wait for new coordinates.” The Lieutenant used his hand-held radio to transfer the call to the long range artillery group–Stiles team.

  Within a minute one of the big guns began sending explosive death on the way to the target. After five minutes of second third barrage the artillery company began taking mortar fire. Somewhere close by an enemy observer was calling in their position.

  “Send in a squad of marines to take out that mortar.” The Lieutenant radioed a marine support platoon.

  The enemy mortar rounds were selectively pin-pointing Stile’s big guns. The North Vietnamese mortar had to be very near their location. Explosions were getting closer to the artillery pieces. The noise from the firing artillery and the enemy’s mortar blasts could not be distinguished. One mortar round landed in front of a huge gun just as marine artillery Sergeant William Stiles received another coordinate adjustment. The gun lifted up from the ground with mortar shrapnel and debris hitting most of the crew.

  Stiles looked up at dirt falling from the air and covered his face. Two of his crew were shouting.

  “I’m hit. Corpsman. Send a corpsman,” one bloodied PFC wailed.

  Stiles pushed himself up and fell down again. His entire body ached and he seemed to be covered with dirt and vegetation everywhere. “Over here. Corpsman.” Stiles joined the two other casualties shouting and directing the corpsmen to their needs.

  The first corpsman triaged the situation. “Get those two with belly wounds on the Huey last so they get off the chopper first. They go directly to the field hospital surgical triage. This sergeant may have multiple fractures but no penetrating wounds. Get him in the chopper after the belly wounds.”

  The corpsmen reflexly plunged morphine syrettes into the thighs of the three casualties. Before SGT Stiles could assess his situation he felt the euphoric and sedation effects of the opiate. He screamed when they moved him into the Huey and another morphine surrette was administered. SGT Stiles went to sleep.

  ‡

  Stiles woke up in a small room with a central bright light overhead. He heard voices which sounded garbled. His clothes were gone and he was cold as his body was being washed. Stockinet sleeves were placed over his limbs and his belly and chest wrapped in multiple layers of felt-like Webril extending over his arms and legs. He moaned with the movement during the manipulation and another morphine dose was given. Stiles felt the warmth of the curing plaster after the wet sensation of the plaster-soaked gauze enveloped his body.

  He was vaguely aware of someone holding his head as it was shaved by electric clippers. A surgical stocking hat covered everything but his eyes, nose and mouth. The warm feeling of drying plaster surrounded his head and he went to sleep again.

  “SGT Stiles. Wake up. You’re all right.” The voice was pleasant, reassuring and female. “I’m your nurse on the flight to Hawaii and then to California. We just left Subic Bay in the Philippines.”

  There were fifty-five patients in the Air Force Starlifter C-141A-10. All such Starlifters were designed for cargo transport. Some, like this one, were converted to moving wounded soldiers from major medical evacuation and treatment centers to the United States. The Vietnam War doctrine for combat casualties declared “all patients designated as being medically stable shall be sent to a stateside military medical hospital closest to the patient’s home of record”. This was a politically motivated plan to appease families bugging the shit out of their congressman to get their wounded loved ones home as fast as possible. This C-141A-10 started with seventy so-called stable patients and had deposited a little less than a third of their load at west coast military receiving medical centers.

  Now, one day after leaving Subic Bay Naval Hospital in the Philippines, the Starlifter was headed for the Air Force base in Dover Delaware. Some patients would be transported by bus to Portsmouth or Bethesda Naval Hospital and some to Fort Dix New Jersey where a bus or train would take them to Queens Naval Hospital in Long Island, New York. Of the fifty-five patients, five had recovered from surgery for bullet or shrapnel abdominal wounds. All five had colostomies to allow the surgically transected destroyed bowel to recover by diverting the colonic contents to colostomy bags. Since this was really a cargo plane the cabin pressure had never approached that of commercial passenger planes causing the intra-bowel pressure to increase at cruising altitude. This required the corpsmen to change filled colostomy bags on a regular basis. The rest of the air evacs and even the attending medical flight staff became excessively flatulent because of the cabin pressure. The net result was the creation of an ambient aroma of feces and farts which, fortunately, all noses adapted to after an initial hour of flight.

  There were only two critical patients who were marginally labeled as “stable”. Marine Artillery Sergeant William “Boomer” Stiles had sustained fractures throughout his body and was in a total body cast. He looked like the “Iron Man’ robot from the older movie version of “The Day the Earth Stood Still.” Boomer was completely enclosed in plaster except for a cutout at his crotch, his mouth, and nose. The plaster head encasement had thumb-size holes at his eyes and ears. His hospital record cover announced a warning for complete immobilization precautions stating that any untoward movement of his mummified plaster body could result in complete paralysis from unhealed neck fractures. Boomer had family in New York State who had plagued their State Representative night-and-day to get their wounded warrior home ASAP.

  The other patient appeared sickly with a garden hose-diameter tube taped to his chest going into a floor-based drainage bottle with nothing in it. He appeared thin and emaciated. His usual tan skin was a shiny lemon-brown color. Army Corporal Sebastian Remo also had a colostomy from the same Claymore mine explosion that caused his chest injury. His stay at Subic Bay had been over six weeks during which his chest tube drainage minimized and his colostomy became totally functional. Remo was now heading for Queens Naval Hospital. Of his eight immediate Anglo and Italian-speaking family members, he was the only American citizen and on his way close to his Brooklyn home following his fourth tour of Vietnam service.

  ‡

  Stiles had a flashback to the Navy Hospital at Subic Bay. He remembered b
eing moved around a lot and there was one voice he seemed to remember hearing more than others. It was a corpsman. The nurse’s voice continued over the PA system. “We don’t get off the plane. We head to Alaska for another refueling and then to Dover Air Force Base in Delaware. From there those who go to Fort Dix New Jersey will then continue to our final destination–Queens Naval Hospital. It’s in Long Island, New York.”

  Stiles felt like he was waking up from a dream. His mouth was dry. “New York. I’m going home?” He tried to move. “I can’t move my arms or legs. Oh my God. I’m paralyzed!”

  Another voice–this time a male, “You’re not paralyzed.”

  Stiles forced his eyes opened. “I know your voice.”

  “I’ve been your orthopedic corpsman since you got hit. We’re both going to the same place. Kaplan. I’m Isaac Kaplan. Remember? Everyone calls me Ike.”

  “Yes…Ike.” His brief seconds of serenity were over. “Wait. I can’t move.”

  “Sergeant you sustained multiple fractures according to your X-rays and your Danang doctors. You have injuries to your arms, legs, back, and your neck. You’ll be in a total body cast for a few months. You’re not paralyzed.”

  Marine Artillery Sergeant William “Boomer” Stiles looked like a white mummy from New York City’s Museum of Natural History. Boomer’s rigid plaster body was strapped onto a stretcher-like cot whose handles were inserted into round cutouts to prevent any movement. Any turbulence in the Starlifter jet made him move with the plane’s rocking motions–he could not be shaken off. “My God, the explosions. We took a direct mortar round. What about my gun crew?”

  “You always seem to ask the same questions. I’ll ask the stateside doc to cut back your pain med dosages. It affects your ability to remember recent things.” Kaplan touched Stiles finger tips with his. “I have the answers for you. I’ve given them to you before. One died and two others survived with serious wounds. They won’t be going back to the states for another month-or-two.”

  “Have my mother and father been notified?” His eyes darted around the constricting cabin of the transport jet. “My brother and sister?”

  “Everyone knows you’re due to arrive in New York in a day-or-two. I’m going to ask to be assigned to your ward at Queens Naval. It’s going to be my next duty station.” Kaplan looked at the nurse.

  “SGT Stiles, do you have a fiancée or significant other to notify?” She wet his lips with a water-soaked gauze sponge and left Kaplan in charge.

  “No. Can I drink some water? I’m so dry and thirsty.”

  “You told me to call you ‘Boomer’ back at Subic Bay.” He waited for the positive answer with the vertical motion of Boomer’s right hand fingertips. “Boomer you can drink water and other fluids like clear soups until we get to New York. Real food awaits you. I’m going to put a condom catheter over your penis so you can pee whenever you want. The only thing we’ll see is the yellow urine in a tube going into the collection bag.”

  “What about my bowels? How the hell do I manage that?”

  “You’ll have a special bed with a chamber pot-like bedpan under the cut-out at your rear. Do you remember trying it at Subic? Remember pressing the button with your finger for me to collect the bed pain?”

  “Vaguely.” Boomer suddenly felt tired after swallowing several mouthfuls of water along with his pain med. “I need to rest.”

  ‡

  The journey continued along the projected itinerary. The pilot would intermittently play music over the PA system. A Bob Dylan album was now providing a distant background to the drone of the Starlifter’s four jet engines. Dressing changes, feedings, urine collection bags and other bodily elimination products were removed from the jet transport at each stop along their journey to-and-within the US. Boomer remained in-and-out of sedation as his opiates continued on a regular regimen.

  The plane’s final destination was at Dover Air Force Base where all patients were dispatched to buses, helicopters or the train to Fort Dix New Jersey. Once there a final accounting and assessment of ability to complete the final leg of the air-evac took place. Corpsman Ike Kaplan was never far from Boomer’s side. “Okay Boomer. Just think ahead. Once we deplane in Delaware and get to Fort Dix we’ll be off in a train and in less than two hours we’ll be checking into Queens Naval Hospital. It’ll be your home for the next few months.”

  “Home? How am I going to get used to this mummy case I’m in?”

  “You’re already adapting. You’ll get used to the limitations of the cast and believe me it’s going to take at least a month to get your joints to bend after we take it off. But you’re alive and try to be grateful for that.” Kaplan smiled. “You’re mummy cast is allowing your body to heal and stay together. I have to take your vital signs. You want the rectal thermometer or in the mouth?”

  “Mouth, Ike.” Boomer opened his mouth. He and Kaplan had become friends at Subic Bay and with a transfer to Queens Kaplan became assigned to his already bonded patient. Kaplan had actually been with Boomer since his injury in the bush sixty miles southwest of Danang.

  “I’m going to keep the condom catheter for your bladder needs so you can sleep for the last leg of the flight.” Kaplan removed the thermometer and took out the sterile catheter tray.

  “Yeah, you might as well leave it on until we get to the hospital.” Boomer stared at Kaplan’s wristwatch. “Might as well give me my sleeping pill and pain pill too.”

  “You don’t seem to be in much pain, but I’ll give you both. We’ll both get some needed rest that way.” Kaplan signed the drugs out and charted the correct withdrawal on the narcotics log. He went to check with the head nurse on the plane to see if he was needed elsewhere and then headed for a nap on an airline-type seat. Kaplan’s thoughts of Boomer and his patient’s X-rays troubled him as sleep gradually developed. Multiple fractures from his neck to his feet and he never complains of much pain. For the last two weeks I’ve cut down his pain meds from powerful Percodan to milder codeine and he still doesn’t complain. Even with his total body cast he should still be in agony. It’s really strange. Blackness came as he closed his eyes to the throbbing notes of the jet engines.

  ‡

  The other patient who had one-on-one attention listened intently to the conversation between the corpsman and the Army Sergeant who was covered head-to-toe in white plaster. Corporal Sebastian Remo had the words repeated in his head. They were like a dream come true. The corpsman named Ike had a voice so authoritative and sincere, “We head to Alaska for another refueling and then to Dover Air Force Base in Delaware. From there you go to Fort Dix New Jersey and then to our final destination–Queens Naval Hospital. It’s in Long Island, New York.”

  Yes. Long Island. New York. Home. After four tours in Nam I’ll be close to home. I wonder if my family is waiting. My friends are surely eagerly anticipating my homecoming.

  The thoughts repeated again like a recording loop and they brought fatigue. He got tired easily. His own last thought brought sleep. They won’t recognize me. I weigh less than a hundred pounds now. Remo’s hands tightened around his Australian Digger hat as he went off to sleep.

  Chapter 2

  February 1973

  Arrival–Fort Dix, New Jersey

  “Oh God Paul.” The Navy nurse wrapped her arms and legs around Dr. Paul Norman as they moved their hips in total synchrony. Lieutenant (JG) Minnie Zettler and Lieutenant (Senior Grade) Paul Norman had two years to go in the Navy. They were engaged to be married and every chance they could they expressed their love for each other. In the privacy of their hotel room in New York City during a rare weekend liberty the intensity of their affection was reaching its peak in physical form as they both climaxed together with panting affirmations of their love.

  “Do you think we should get married now Paul.” She looked sideways at her intended.

  “We’ve discussed this a thousand times. I have an anesthesiology residency to go through after the Navy and we both have two years left in the s
ervice.”

  “There’s talk about everyone getting early-outs with the signing of the January 15 ‘Suspension-of-Offensive’ agreement. President Nixon is really pushing for the peace talks to activate full American withdrawal. You keep telling me that yourself.”

  “Okay. Let’s compromise. First…” Norman touched her right nipple. “…with the war ending and if the Navy says we can get out early we’ll set a date. Second…” He touched her left nipple. “…we’ll get married two months after we have our Honorable Discharge in our hands.”

  Zettler moaned and moved on top of him. “Okay. It’s a deal.” She looked at her diamond engagement ring and straddled his manhood. They made love again and then lay side-by-side looking at the ceiling.

  “How long is your anesthesiology residency going to be?”

  “The one I want is in Minnesota. It combines anesthesiology with addiction medicine. Addiction is soon to have its own professional board status but I could qualify for certification in both therapeutic areas with the combined program.” He looked at her perfect fertile-looking body. “To answer your question, for the tenth time this year, the combined residency takes three years.”

  “As soon as you get your residency acceptance we have to apply for our practitioners licenses in Minnesota. And…” Zettler took a deep breath seeing his new erection. “…with both of us generating incomes, we should start a family after two years into your residency.”

  “Sounds good to me. Let’s practice on how to do that some more.” Their extended kissing and groping led to a repeat of their love’s passionate expression.

  ‡

  The Starlifter had emptied its patient load in Dover Air Force base and forty patients were bused to Fort Dix New Jersey. Fort Dix would attend to administrative accountability and identification of their thirty-eight patients and a single bus would take them to Queens Naval with a Navy ambulance escort carrying a driver, corpsman and nurse. A second bus, smaller than the first, would contain the duffle bags and belongings of the patients. The exception was Boomer Stiles and Sebastian Remo. They were placed on a train headed directly for Queens Naval Hospital, New York because of their classification on the semi-critical list. Critical or acutely ill patients were air-lifted to their destinations by helicopter. The train was halfway on route on a crisp February 1973 Monday morning. The three-vehicle road convoy would start for Queens Naval Hospital at 1030 hours with an ETA for Queens Naval of 1300 hours. Teletypes to the Navy hospital were sent ahead at 0700.