My War - Installment 45

BT was beginning to come alive, entering more and more into the conversation and even beginning to get interested enough to ask questions and joke around.

I had not been paying very much attention to my hair, I shaved each morning in bed using a small mirror, and ran a comb through my hair, but I had not actually looked at it. I had only had one hair cut, in bed in Japan, and a trim, also in bed, since I had left Vietnam. My mustache was nice and full, I did keep it trimmed neatly. Anyway, my hair must have been fairly long by military standards. BT started talking.

"You know, Sam. When I first met you I thought you were some college protest leader that got pounced on by the National Guard and were just brought here for care, to keep you out of the way for awhile. And now I hear that you were a recon pilot. Tell me how you got yourself screwed up and brought here to Valley Forge."

"Sure BT."

We had stayed talking to BT for hours and when we left that afternoon it looked like BT was really coming out of the shell that he had built around himself. He had even asked Jim how to go about getting a wheelchair. We told him that we would try and run down one of the ortho docs and get him to sign BT up for a wheelchair. It had turned out to be a really great day for all of us. Jim and I had just as good a time with BT as he had with us.

Mom came down that Friday and brought me some pants and a shirt. I put them on with much effort, picked my cane up from my bed, signed out from the ward, and we headed out to the car.

I opened the front passenger door of the car and tried to get in, unfortunately with the seat in the far forward position, to accommodate Mom's short legs, there was no way for me to get in. The back seat also proved just as impossible and frustrating regardless of the position that I tried. Finally, after thinking for a short time, I told Mom to move the front seat all the way to the rear position because I was going to drive us home. I moved around to the driver's side of the car and eased myself in, angled down across the back of the seat I planted my plaster-clad left foot on the floor, it's fortunate that the car was an automatic. I reached out for my cane and placed it on the seat beside me, started the car, pulled the shift lever to the drive position and we were off for home.

The ninety mile drive home seemed to take forever, stuck in that sloping posture, not being able to move, but then it did feel good to be driving. The weekend passed quickly. I always enjoyed Mom's home cooking. Dad and I took a ride out to some property that he had given to my brother and showed me where they were going to build his house. I had taken my new camera along and used the self timer to get a picture of the two of us. With the cast on, increasing my height by several inches, I was finally as tall as, or taller than Dad. I went to church Sunday morning and it was good to see everyone that I had not seen in quite some time.

My folks let me drive the car back to the hospital. I decided that I would have to buy a car before too long so that I would have a way to get home without someone having to come and get me. I did figure that it was far too complicated, and a great deal of trouble and discomfort to leave the hospital as long as I had the body cast on. With any luck and as fast as I seemed to be healing, I didn't believe that I would be in the cast for very much longer anyway.

Sunday evening I met a few more of the officers that were on the adjacent ward from mine and we spent the evening becoming acquainted. On the way back to my place I stopped and visited with BT. One of the guys I had met was totally intrigued with the idea of golfing and I asked him to join Jim and me in our planned trek to the golf course the next morning. The fellow's name was Hank, a first lieutenant with a rosy cheeks, fair complexion and very little facial hair. His head was covered with dark wavy hair which emphasized his smooth face and narrow features. We made plans to meet the next morning, after breakfast and mosey on over to the hospital's nine hole golf course.

Monday morning came swiftly and I greeted the morning with enthusiasm, eager to try golfing for the first time in my life. In the past I had viewed golf as a rather silly practice. Clubbing a little white ball and then chasing it about a great expanse of grass and greenery. I was soon to grow fond of a game which takes a great deal of patience, practice, and coordination. My misunderstanding was typical of anything which is unknown.

We stumbled up to the clubhouse and each of us signed for a set of clubs consisting of a one wood, a putter, a two, five, seven, and nine irons, all in a Sunday golf bag. I was very happy to find out that Hank had played for a number of years and was quite willing to give Jim and I lessons and pointers during our play. Hank had briefly described each of the clubs and their use and how to swing them, for which we were glad. I had to make some modifications due to my inflexibility, but things went well. Without being able to bend or twist my back I started my first game of golf hitting the ball straight, later when my back was freed from plaster, I unfortunately, learned to hook and slice.

After nine holes, with an astronomically high score, I was plumb tuckered out from dragging around my body cast. Jim was tired too, he had only been out of his cast a few days and his leg was pretty weak. It felt exceptionally good to make it back to the ward and rest up for a little while, my bed felt like heaven.

After I had rested for some time I went to visit with BT .Hank and I had discussed the idea of going to the Officers Club for supper and having a few drinks afterwards. I wanted to see if I could persuade BT to go with us. I had some reservations about it because I couldn't sit at a table very well but...

BT still didn't have a wheelchair, although he did tell me, with great excitement, that he was going to be getting one of the new electric units, which could be controlled with one hand or one finger for that matter.

"BT, how about going to the "O" Club with us for supper tonight?"

"How am I supposed to get there? Walk?"

"Not just yet. I've got a wheelchair lined up for you and I'm going to push your funky butt over there myself."

"Sure, you’re going to push me. Huh?"

"You bet your sweet ass, and....if I want any shit out of you I'll squeeze your head. You got that, Sir?"

"OK. So I'll go."

"Hey. Let's get this straight. I'm not saying that I'm going to treat you to supper; I'm just going to push you over there. OK?"

"All right."

BT and I chatted for a while. He was from New York and knew some girls that were in show business. One had been in an off Broadway production of Neil Simon's Star Spangled Girl. He showed me a picture of her, which made me drool all over his bed spread. She was a real knockout, to say the least. Perfect figure, long golden hair which surrounded and absolutely angelic face, I couldn't wait to meet her and anybody she knew.

Well, this gorgeous hunk of woman flesh and some of her friends had the idea of putting on a show for the boys at the hospital. It sounded too good to be true, it sounded terrific to me. I told BT that I'd love to meet Lynn in person.

"Do you know any of her friends, any single, good looking girls among them?"

"Yes and yes, but what about that girl, Emily, that you're sweet on?"

"Her? It doesn't feel right--I don't believe its going to last for very long or whether it ever actually began. I'm not sure why, but a little time is going to reveal any weakness and I believe a very short time will show me she's not really interested in me. I talked to one of her teachers, an old friend of mine, and he told me she has been telling everybody that she and I are getting married; this is news to me. He may not be too reliable; he also told me that everybody had heard that I was dead. All of what he said was news to me."

"That sounds like some pretty serious distortion of facts!"

"It’s serious to her only, and for her reasons. She's a good looking girl and all, but I can't help feeling that I'm being used for some specific purpose, the heck with it. So let's get your skinny, funky, ass into the wheelchair and be off to the club."

I left the room for a few minutes to get the wheelchair for transporting BT. I hung my cane on back of the chair and pushed it into the room and up alongside of his bed. It took some considerable effort on the part of us both to get BT into the wheelchair safely. I turned him around and started out of the room. Before I could get the wheelchair out of the door he remembered that he had forgotten his Camels and matches. I grabbed them from the night stand and we were on our way.

I'm sure that we must have looked a comical sight in our hospital blues, as we proceeded down the long halls and then outside and down the road toward the Officers Club. We had two kinds of hospital clothes; both types were totally shapeless and very unfashionable. The sleep-wear was a thin, light weight, sky blue material with a draw string closure on the pants and a button sown the front shirt, neither of the pieces were made for a one handed person. Then, we had dark blue day clothes made of a heavier material, tie top on the pants, button shirt-jacket with a hospital insignia stamped on the pocket. They were definitely not what someone would want to wear out in public to go dining, but then it was just another concession, to allow us in the O Club, brought about by our circumstances.

We turned and went out a set of double doors and into a beautiful Pennsylvania spring evening. The air was fresh, cool and brisk, trees were beginning to bud out, and the grass was starting to turn green.

The Officer's Club was not very far away, only a few blocks. It was a rather small, but nice looking building located to the front of the hospital grounds. It was a permanent type building made of brick, not like most of the buildings that were referred to as "T" buildings, temporary and usually made of wood with clapboard siding. I was relieved to see a ramp going up to one of the doors. We had started to wonder if there would be a ramp, we could not see one as we had approached.

We went into the dining room and made ourselves as comfortable and inconspicuous as possible, while waiting for a waitress. We ordered drinks and perused the menu. It didn't take me long to decide what I wanted to have. I decided to order a New York cut steak. I had not had a steak since the lousy filet mignon, in Saigon, at the French restaurant. My mouth was all ready salivating as the image of a thick juicy cut of meat soared into my mind's eye. BT was worried about ordering something that he would not be able to cut and eat. I could appreciate his feelings....how humiliating it would be, to not even be able to cut up your own food when just a short time before you could do anything you wanted to do. I assured him that I'd be honored and happy to cut up anything he wanted to eat that needed cutting.

The waitress finally came with our drinks, we both ordered steak, rare, with salad, baked potatoes, and all the condiments that go with it. She put our drinks down and left. We lit up some smokes to have with our drinks then just relaxed and waited for our dinner.

The meal seemed to take forever to eat with my hacking away pieces for the both of us. It was quite awkward, in my slanted position. This being the first time I had really tried to sit to eat at a table, with my cast on, I kept dropping pieces of BT's and my steak, on my chest, but no matter we both enjoyed ourselves immensely. Much time and many drinks later we finished our meal.

We returned to the ward sometime after 2200 hours, neither of us being sure of the time. We had enjoyed ourselves so much we decided to make the "O" Club a regular stop in our socializing. It could not do anything but get better as our conditions improved. We would be able to become more relaxed, be able to sit up better, wear civilian clothes or uniforms, and generally have a better time. With time we would probably even get to know some other people at the club, some that we could party with. Hank had not come with us, he had received a call from his fiancée, she was coming by to visit him. It certainly would have been easier on both BT and I; I am not complaining though, if he would have gone with us, but there would be other times.

At that time we did not know anyone else at the club, so we had remained by ourselves, not much chance at our moving readily about anyway. We were the only men there that were so fashionably dressed....we weren't obvious or anything.... Little did we know that these small feelings of exclusion, which we felt there, only because of our manner of dress and condition, were beginning to run rampant in the hearts and minds of, not only, the American public, but the American politicos as well. That small inkling, of that moment, which we shared in that somewhat closed environment of the hospital, we still believed to be untrue. We had been serving our country, surely America was behind its Armed Forces and especially those wounded and or disabled in her service; those in the service of promoting and protecting freedom and democracy.


JUST HANGIN' AROUND

We began golfing on a regular basis; it was one of the few forms of exercise that I could participate in. I had wished, often, that there was some way that BT could play with us, but then as one of my childhood friend's father used to say, "Wish in one hand and shit in the other and see which one fills up the fastest!" That statement was just one of those subtle of realities of life.

The next few weeks were spent getting to know more of my fellow patients, and playing golf, cards, pool, and joking around with Jim, BT and others. Jim would remember some crazy thing that Steve Allen had done on the Tonight Show like when he had dressed up as a tea bag and was dunked into a large tank of water or some other stupidly silly thing and we would all chuckle at his remembrance.