THE SOLDIER: A Vietnam War Era Novel

by Schwartz, Richard Alan

  Dot looked at him, her eyes and voice pleading. “All hurt everything. You fix.”

  He administered pain killer while Doc Evans started an IV. Brian cleaned and closed wounds on her arms, back, hips and scalp, all the while directing Doc Evans while he cleaned then sutured two lacerations in her legs.

  They called a chopper which ferried the little one and two other wounded villagers to the medivac station. After checking the area just outside the village, Sgt. Levin decided no enemy remained so radioed that information to TOQ and Lt. Senna. They hiked back to day position which was five miles up a dusty road off Highway One.

  An hour after they arrived, a Jeep, raising clouds of dust as it approached, stopped near the platoon. Two officers climbed out. Average height and husky, Colonel Nuvolari was fuming. He chewed on a cigar. The Col. pulled the soggy tobacco roll out of his teeth while walking up to the men. The battalion doctor, Capt. Herrmann, moved at his side.

  Someone yelled, “Attention.” The platoon jumped to their feet, stood at attention.

  Hands on hips the colonel bellowed, “Where’s the grunt who did the artery repair?”

  Levin stepped forward, stood at attention. “That would be me, sir.”

  Lt. Senna stepped to Levin’s side.

  With hands on hips and speaking through clenched teeth, the Lt. Colonel sputtered, “How the fuck…in the field…nobody in their right mind except an absolute fucking expert…a many years experienced vascular expert, would attempt a repair like that.”

  Sgt. Levin said in a pleading voice, “I know sir, but if I didn’t, he’d a lost his foot.”

  “I’m aware, Sgt. Levin, I’m aware.” The Lt. Colonel seethed while glaring at Brian. He chomped on his cigar for a minute, took a deep breath then asked, “Your experience?”

  Brian sensed his platoon mates staring at him. “Five-year surgical residence in a big city hospital.”

  “But…”

  “Started college at sixteen, med school at nineteen, sir.”

  The Lt. Colonel fumed, “What the fuck you doing out here, asshole? Do you have any idea how useful an experienced vascular surgeon…?”

  Levin stared straight ahead, remained at attention and silent.

  The veins at the Colonel’s temples pulsed, his face purple. “Never fucking mind. For the last two months of your tour, you belong to me…Dr. Levin.”

  Dr. Levin barked, “Yes, Sir.”

  Capt. Herrmann handed copies of his new orders to Brian and the platoon’s Lt.

  Levin gathered his gear, shook a few hands and climbed in the jeep. Reviewing his orders, he noted he’d been promoted.

  “We’ll have you up to speed and performing surgeries by noon tomorrow,” Captain Hermann said.

  Chapter 10

  Late the next day, Captain Levin examined the next patient at the medivac station.

  “Look at those railroad tracks!” James Ware said, remarking about the Captain’s bars on Levin’s collar. “You’re a damn Captain?”

  “Makes the patients feel more secure if they think I’m an officer.” Brian removed the bandages from the wounds to Ware’s upper arm and chest. “Who sewed this?”

  “Doc Evans.”

  “Looks good.”

  James smirked. “Learned from an experienced surgeon, I hear.”

  “We’re going to take some pictures and do a little work, Buddy. You’re going to sleep shortly.”

  Ware tried to smile through his fear. “I’ll be okay, huh? Remember, that truck’s waiting for me.”

  “You’ll be back in the world before me and driving in no time.” Brian pulled a piece of paper and a pen from his shirt pocket. “Here’s my address and phone. Call me when you’re home. We’ll get together.”

  Brian performed the required surgery, then a few hours later, checked on James. The Montanan chatted to no one in particular but sounded as if he was talking to children. His boys, Brian assumed then headed to dinner.

  Following his meal, he asked around and found Dot, who would be sent to a hospital ship for surgery on her hip the next day. She lay on a cot, an IV in her arm. He reviewed her chart. Brian put a chair next to her. Although groggy, she smiled when she saw him.

  “Any pain?” he asked. Dot shook her head.

  “Tomorrow, you ride in another helicopter to a hospital ship. More doctors will repair Dot.”

  “Nurse she say, you not fix me in village, I die. You number one doc.”

  “Thank you.”

  She smiled, held out a hand. He gripped it; tears filled her eyes then slid down her cheeks.

  “Scared?” Brian asked.

  She nodded. “Big scared. You come with Dot? Go ship?” He shook his head. “Sorry. Have to fix people here.”

  Dot appeared to think about his answer then asked, “You stay Dot this night?”

  “I’ll stay but you sleep.”

  The little one nodded, watched him for a few minutes then closed her eyes. He read and filled out reports. She woke a few times during the night, smiled when she saw him still at her side.

  He helped move her to a stretcher the next day and walked her out to the chopper which would transport her to the hospital ship.

  “My special patient,” Brian yelled to the medic who would accompany her and the other wounded.

  “No sweat, Captain,” the medic replied with a grin. “I’ll keep an eye on her, sir.”

  Dot raised her head slightly, smiled then gave him a little wave as the machine clawed its way into the air.

  * * *

  Two weeks later, the medical staff began a rugged time when they were short-staffed. Brian remembered his former infantry company was on a seven-day stand down. He requested Doc Martin Evans help.

  “You follow what happened to Dot?” Martin asked while they ate lunch after four hours of surgery.

  “She requires huge rehab after surgery on the hospital ship where they repaired much of her hip. Nothing like that in Vietnam, so they sent her to Ft. Sam in Houston. They’ll transfer her for rehab to UTMB Galveston.”

  “Wouldn’t she need someone, like family, to meet her?”

  “Someone told officials she has family near Houston. Her grandmother will be heading over once she gets her paperwork squared away.”

  “She has money for that kind of travel?”

  “Someone arranged it.”

  “You?”

  Brian nodded. “Dot is my special patient.”

  “Where will the grandmother live?”

  “Short bus trip from UTMB, but in Houston. My parents are heading down to Houston from Dallas to purchase a condo as we speak. They’ll meet Dot when she arrives. I’ll rent the condo to Dot’s Grandmother when she’s over there.”

  “Hell, I’m comfortable. How can I help?” Martin asked.

  “Not sure.”

  “I’ve got family there. My sister would love to meet them and make sure they have what they need. Besides, Houston’s my town. How about I give you half the money for the condo. Once I’m home, I can stay close and make sure things are okay.”

  “Out fucking standing,” Brian said, shaking his buddy’s hand.

  The rumble of helicopters approaching reached their ears. “Let’s go,” Brian said.

  Both stood and raced out to the helipad.

  For the balance of the week, Doc Evans received on the job training from surgical nurses, surgical assistants and surgeons.

  Before he returned to his unit, Martin found Brian.

  “Heading back, buddy,” Martin said, extending his hand. “Learned a shit load this week and performed repairs on a shit load of soldiers…even a few civilians. Can’t thank you enough for the experience.”

  “Thanks for all your help. It made a huge difference.”

  “For the first time in my life…for certain, I know what I want to do after the Army.”

  “Med school?”

  “Yup.”

  “I have friends at UT where I received my training. If you’d consider at
tending there…”

  “For sure, Buddy, I’ll be in touch.”

  * * *

  During and after a large battle in the A Shau Valley, the medivac station was swamped with casualties. Four days of surgery, the last twenty-seven hours’ continuous, the intense concentration required by their work forced the medical staff to stay sharp and awake during the long hours. Their minds, still powered by caffeine and adrenaline, prevented sleep.

  Alone now, Brian and a nurse sat side-by-side in camp chairs, outside her tent at two in the morning. His shirt opened, chest and belly shiny with sweat, they each held a glass of Bourbon. He used the edge of his hand to wipe his forehead. Rivulets of sweat ran down his face and onto his chest.

  “Heard you’re the asshole who didn’t let the Army know you were an experienced surgeon,” said surgical nurse Major Krista Downey. The front and back of her shirt also soaked in sweat, she was the head of the nursing staff and just short of ten years’ experience.

  Tired of trying to explain, Brian sighed then said, “Had other things to accomplish.”

  “Disgusting. You should be punished.” She glanced at his muscular chest, noted the silver chain and Star of David. “You’re Jewish.”

  He nodded. “You?”

  “Baptist.”

  “Ever been to a Jewish service?”

  “Couple times. Been to a Baptist?”

  “Once.”

  Brian glanced up and down her figure. Even in Army fatigues, he could see the outline of a lovely body. He leaned over and gave her a long kiss. She pulled away. “You can’t…I’m higher rank than you…”

  “Well, excuse…”

  “Damn it,” she said, her cheeks blushing to the extent, their crimson appearance was evident even in the dim moon-light. “Been too long. Speaking of religion,” she said with an impish grin. “I’ve got a place where your bald monk can worship.” They stood and she pulled him into her quarters.

  “The heat and humidity…” he said.

  “Make a guy’s balls fill with desire. Apparently does things to a woman as well.”

  He nodded. They stripped and tumbled into her bed. “We’re using each other,” Krista said after they’d finished.

  “Or you can say we’re sharing our bodies with a team member.”

  She laughed. “For little more than tension relief.”

  Brian considered her comment. “In a philosophic sense, please consider, it was more than that. Sharing our bodies reminds us we’re still human, even in the midst of all this inhuman shit.”

  The major considered his thought then sounded pleased. “I… I like how that sounds.”

  They slept a few hours then showered.

  “Someone special in your world?” she asked while they toweled off.

  “Was,” Brian said. “Unlikely we’ll meet again. Great lady. Met during R&R. Opposites really. She’s a country girl, raised on a sheep ranch…ah…station, she called it. I was raised the opposite. Near Dallas…tall buildings, great symphony, fabulous music scene, and all that in a great metropolitan area. You…someone special?”

  “Major in the Infantry, light of my life. Also, career Army like me. Died seven months ago just north of Da Nang. Damn chopper went down due to mechanical problems. Came through here but he was too torn up…”

  He rolled his shoulders, stretched forward and backwards. “Watched a helicopter go down once. Awful sight. All but one killed. Must have been tough on you to lose him like that.”

  They began dressing.

  “I was back in the states when he died. Buried him near our home.” She dropped her head, folded her hands as if reciting a prayer. “A blessed man who cared for me and understood my passion for military service, which goes back many generations in my family.”

  “How far?”

  “Earliest I’m aware of, a nurse in the Civil War. One of the few female nurses in the medical corps back then. Name of Laura Hetherington. I have letters she wrote to family.”

  “Love to read them.”

  “When I’m home, I’ll send you copies.” “That would be helpful.”

  “Because…”

  “A book I’ll be working on.”

  Both back in their uniforms, Krista took a long drink out of a canteen, peered at him with a questioning expression. “We’ll go back to work…”

  Cpt. Levin gave her arm a brief squeeze. “Like nothing happened.”

  She smiled. “Thank you.”

  A nurse yelled from outside the tent, “Major Downey, you’re needed in the surgical recovery area.”

  “Be right there, Lieutenant,” Krista said.

  It was quiet for a bit then the same voice said, “Uh…Ah…ma’am…if you know where Captain Levin is, he’s needed as well.”

  “Thank you, Lieutenant,” Krista replied as she and Brian chuckled then hurried to the triage area.

  “Dr. Levin,” a nurse called out, “this soldier is asking for you.”

  The soldier was being prepped for surgery.

  Arnie Zalman appeared terror stricken but relieved the moment he saw Brian. He held up his undamaged left hand which his buddy shook with both hands.

  “Levin, you’re here. Bless the Lord. I shouldn’t be so worried now.”

  “What the hell? You forget to duck?” “Damn mortar round.”

  “Anyone else hurt?”

  “Couple newbies. Both died. Couple other guys, minor stuff,” Arnie took a deep breath, let it out slowly.

  “We have a great medical team. You’ll be up and around in no time.”

  “If you say so but I think my right arm and leg are in rough shape.”

  Keeping his expression stoic as he uncovered and examined Arnie’s injuries, Brian knew his platoon-mate’s days participating in the sports he loved were over. “You’re going to sleep while we do some work. Talk to you in a few hours.” He nodded to the team who wheeled Arnie into surgery.

  Just prior to dinner, Brian visited his former squad mate. “So, Dr. Levin, what’s my prognosis?”

  Brian grabbed a chair and sat at his buddy’s side. He rubbed his face with his hands. “The broken bones will heal but there’s nerve and muscle damage. I expect you’ll be able to walk but running may be out of the question. Back in the states you’ll have a multi-month recovery.”

  Arnie displayed a moment’s sorrow then smiled. “That’s a loss, but the Lord saved me. Don’t know what for but…I’ll have to find out.” He smiled at Brian then added, “Bless the Lord, you’ll find your purpose as well, although two nurses told me I was lucky you were the one working on me so maybe you’ve found yours.”

  “You need lots of rest. Are you in pain?”

  “Not bad. But one thing. We were in a fire fight a couple days ago. I was on the machine gun. When we inspected the area, we found a family huddled together in a shack…Mom, Dad, kids. They’d been torn to hell. Bullet holes…my gun…depresses the hell out of me when I think how I destroyed that family. The kids must have been so frightened. Their parents died in a futile attempt to save them by laying on top of them.”

  “May not have been you…”

  “7.62 rounds cause a hell of a lot more damage than 5.56…but I don’t have to tell you that.” Tears formed in his eyes. “There’s a prayer book in my gear. Get it for me?”

  Brian dug in his gear then handed it to him. “Try not to think about what happened. Relax. Think of your wife. How happy she’s going to be when you get home. Get some sleep. You’ll be flown to Japan tomorrow. Not long after, back to a hospital in the states. Should be near your home.”

  After dinner Brian returned. He and Arnie recited a few prayers together.

  He shook his friend’s good hand. “You need rest. Take care, Arnie.”

  Arnie nodded but didn’t let go of Brian’s hand. “We’ll get together some time…back in the world?”

  “We will, Buddy. That’s a promise.”

  The Brooklynite sighed, appeared to relax. “Stay safe,” he said to his Te
xas friend.

  * * *

  The following month, Colonel Nuvolari asked Brian into his office.

  Brian entered, saluted then sat in the chair the Colonel indicated. “Your surgical technique is excellent and your training ability with new surgeons and staff is peerless. I have several new surgeons arriving over the coming weeks. I would like you to extend in-country eight weeks to train them. This is strictly voluntary but if you do, you’ll be discharged the moment you arrive home. No stateside deployment.”

  With only one week left in his twelve-month tour of Vietnam and already making plans on what he’d do when he returned, Brian didn’t immediately reply.

  The Colonel added, “The slot requires a Major. It kills me to do this, but you’ll receive a promotion if you take the assignment.”

  Brian still didn’t reply.

  The Lt. Colonel fired his biggest weapon. “Our unit will remain at a high level of medical readiness, if those training the new team members are trained by our top people. The team continues to require your expertise, Captain Levin.”

  Brian remembered how effective our Air Force and Navy were during World War II because the best pilots returned home to train new pilots, leading to defeat of the German and Japanese Air Forces.

  “I’ll extend, sir,” Levin said, dreading the fact he’d have to explain to his mother that he volunteered to remain an additional eight weeks in a war zone.

  * * *

  A week later and just after lunch, Colonel Nuvolari said, “I need a volunteer to head over to the staging area next door. An officer in supply had a shell from an M79 grenade launcher hit him. The round didn’t explode.”

  Major Levin volunteered, as did Major Downey. Their Jeep was directed to an area in between two large tents, where they found soldiers stacking sandbags. The soldier with the grenade round imbedded in his side, on his back within the two-and-one-half foot high sandbagged area.

  Brian checked the trembling soldier. “Don’t move. Don’t talk. I’m a surgeon and this is a surgical nurse. We’re going to get that thing out and get you away from here.”