Send It Vietnam

         Send It Vietnam

Suzanne Marsh

The black metal storage chest stood in the dusty corner of the attic, almost beckoning me to come over and unlock its secrets. The chest belonged to my grandfather; it was one my mom used to store heaven only knows what. I had been volunteered to help mom clean out the attic, not my idea of a great way to spend a weekend. I trudged over to the storage chest, its leather handles beginning to rot. I sneezed as I began to unlock the chest, I am allergic to dust and should have worn a mask. However, that is a different story, the chest is the focus. I remembered that chest from my childhood, grandpa used to keep his service revolver from World War II in there, hence I was never allowed near it. The top creaked open, as once again I began to sneeze. The revolver was gone, guess grandpa had finally gotten rid of it or maybe mom, she loathed any type of weapon. I began to close it when I noticed a small compartment, I opened it. There was a plain notebook crammed inside. ‘How strange,

I thought? Why hide a notebook. I became curious and opened it, I began reading:

January 10, 1968

I am finally settled on board the USS Repose, a hospital ship stationed in Suisun Bay, off the coast of Vietnam. It seems that all it does is rain. It’s funny, I could not wait to get to Vietnam, to care of soldiers, sailors and Marines. I guess that was more fantasy than fact. From the Repose I can see Chu Lai, there is a huge base there. I have met several other nurses from all over the states. Mary O’Connel from Buffalo, New York, Sue DeLong, from Billings Montana, Mary Jo Giana from Brooklyn, New York and Betty Jo Hammer from Franklin, Tennessee, my bunkmates. We are like a huge happy family. I haven’t met any of the doctors yet, of course we just got here so in a few days who knows. I have unpacked my uniforms and surgical gowns, so I am good to go. The Repose has fifty-two beds to a ward with a capacity of seven hundred and fifty. I have to go; it is time for dinner in the galley. Will write more later.

I stared at the writing, it was not my mom’s, it was very delicate, more European, who was this nurse? Where was she now? Was she alive. I decided to see if I could find her but first I wanted to read the rest of the diary, she had written.

January 15, 1968

I have been here for one week and have seen so many hurt and dying men. I wonder if I am really cut out for nursing. I feel so sorry for some of these men. We have a great deal of wounded from the jungle areas in particular. I had one with a festering knee, it smelled terrible, the surgeon debrided it. There is an odor that accompanies the men that are out in the jungle, a rotten type of a smell. Getting back to the knee, apparently, he had accidentally knelt on a pungi stick, it gave him a really bad infection. Once the wound was debrided, the doctor put about a foot of antibiotic gauze into the wound. Presently, the soldier is in a bed in ward B. I also assisted in surgery, a soldier stepped on a land mine, most of the shrapnel was removed; however, there is one that is so close to his heart that the surgeon decided to let it stay for fear of perforating the heart. War is hell here in Vietnam, I guess most nurses and doctors feel that way.

This nurse appeared to be compassionate toward the men she cared for. The next few entries were much the same as these two.

January 31, 1968

Casualties are streaming in by the hundreds. The North Vietnamese have been bombing Chu Lai most of the morning. The Response is doubling up on bunks for the injured. I cannot write a great deal at the moment; I have to go on duty in ten minutes. We were informed this morning that this is the Tet Offensive, about we will be inundated with casualties for some time to come.

The Tet Offensive, Chu Lai, I wondered if maybe she had met my dad over there. He had been in the hospital for various issue including malaria and an infected knee. I decided to continue reading.

February 12, 1968

I met a very nice young man from Buffalo, New York today. He is stationed near Chu Lai. He has bedroom eyes, blue with long dark curly eyelashes. I don’t think he is married; I don’t see any ring on his left hand. He has malaria but then most of the guys over here do, at least that is what Mary, the head nurse tells me. It gets them out of the field for a couple of weeks. They have a bed and clean sheets, with three squares a day. I really would like to get to know him better, if you know what I mean.

This was beginning to bother me a great deal. I wasn’t sure I should show her diary to my mom. She and my dad divorced when I was a child, I never really knew him or why they divorced. I continued to read on:

March 3, 1968

The Battle of Hue just ended. I am exhausted after sixty hours in surgery. The soldier I told you about, his name is Bob Talbot. He is so sexy, I arranged for him to stay on board for at least another two weeks. We have had sex several times, FANDAMTASTIC. I have taken precautions, but I am late. The problem is, if I am pregnant I will lose my commission. I have not told him yet. I will do that tonight. Wish me luck.

March 8, 1968

I am pregnant, I also found out that Bob is married and has a wife and kid back in the states. When I told him, I was pregnant he told me that was my problem not his. I will be shipping back to the states in a month. I don’t know how I will manage with a baby, but I am going to keep it.

The entries ended here. I smuggled the diary downstairs; placing it in the car. I then snuck back into the house. Mom, heard me, she asked if I would like dinner since it was almost five o’clock. We ate in silence as I debated whether to tell her about the short diary I had found. The following morning, I began searching the web for nurses stationed in Vietnam during the Tet Offensive. One name appeared that I had not expected, a woman my mom knew well, Susie DeLong Mc Nicole. She had married a man by the name of Paul McNicole. I located her; then placed a phone call to her:

“Hello, Mrs. McNicole, my name is Susan Talbot.”

I could hear the hesitation in her voice:

“Yes, what can I do for you?”

I wasn’t sure I could go on, I stumble over a few words:

“I found your diary from your days in Vietnam. I wanted to return it to you.’

Susie, took a long deep breath:

“I don’t recall ever keeping a diary over there are you sure it is mine?”

She was stalling, I could tell by the pauses in between what she was saying. Could it be possible, she had an affair with my dad? Possibly, she was the reason my parents divorced. I waited a minute or two for her to compose herself:

“Yes, I served on the Repose, yes, I had an affair with Bob Talbot. Are you his daughter?”

At least she admitted an affair:

“Yes, I am his only daughter and child. If you give me your address I will mail you the

diary. I don’t intend for my mom to ever see it. I found it in an old truck, hidden in a

small compartment. My dad evidently must have somehow gotten a hold of it.”

Once again there was a pause:

“I can explain that at least: when he told me he had a wife and kid in the states, I threw

diary at his head. I was hurt and angry. What ever happened to him after he returned to

the states? I am simply curious.”

It was my turn to take a deep breath:

“My dad died a few years ago, even though they were divorced they remained friends.

because of me. I did not have the heart to ask my mom if she knew about the diary,

but I decided against it. It would only hurt my mom.”

“Very well, Susan, my address is: 1414 Curtain’s Lane, Temple, Texas 76508. Thank you

for returning it to me. Have a wonderful life.”

She hung up then, I knew I made the correct decision. I had found the diary and returned it. I wish I could have sent it Vietnam.