Originally posted by Joe_Carey:
It was my turn to go home, but I was still at Clark AFB Hospital. Apparently, what the doctors had worried most about was that the surgery would infect, and that they would eventually have to lop off the leg, or worst.

In my particular case, It was infection. The leg had swelled up to about twice the size has it should have been and a Doctor was called in the night before I was to go home, because they could not put me on the 'Bye-bye' C-130 with a temperature, especially one of 104, and rising.

Well, the doctor took one look at the leg, and he decided that the Philippine Islands was not the place for me, and as he called for the nurse and a hospitalman, and he gave some quick orders and within minutes the hospitalman had both left the room, and he had returned to the room with a tray and some surgical bundles all wrapped in green linen.

The doctor said something to me about not wanting me to stay one more day in Asia, and the next thing I knew he was cuttung at some of my brand new stitches in my thigh that ran from just below my right hip to the knee.

There were not that many stitches that he had to remove as the stitches were pretty well spaced. I guess that is an enlistedman's stitch that I received.

Anyhow, he had opend up my just obtained incision that was no more than 24 hours old, and he incerted a syringe into the fresh incision and he started drawing a foul colored fluid from my leg, and the pain hit me!

Wow! That hurt!

finally, after about an hour of working on me, he said, "That ought to do you!"

He said something about drawing out a lot of the infection, and that he was going to order the staff to put ice packs on all of my joints to bring down the fever, and if by morning, the fever had gone dow, I would be on that plane going home.

The nurse came back into the room, and she handed the doctor a syringe and a vile of some solution, and he pulled the plunger back to where the fluid went to a lined mark on the barrel of the syringe.

He said, "You're going to go to sleep now, and if we have this temperature down by morning, we will have you out of here!" With that he jabbed the needle into a junction on the IV that was still in my arm.

I wanted to thank the doctor, but I sounded all jibberish at best, and then I went to sleep like a baby.

In the morning, I was awaken by someone calling my name, and then the sides of the bed were being brought down, and I was being moved from my bed to a gurney, and my leg hurt like hell.

"Is my temperature down?"

"It is down enough for us to get you on the plane, but we will leave the ice packs on you. Mean while, you're going home Marine!"

I was awake. Well! The best one can be awake anyhow with whatever it was that they shot me up with last night. I knew the leg hurt, but it did not bother me. Come to think of it, I knew the leg hurt me a lot, and it did not bother me one bit, and even that I am sure it hurt a whole bunch, I did not care one bit. It hurt, but there was no pain registering. I guess you have to love drugs!

I was wheeled out of the room and I waved goodbye to the Koreans, who waved back, but the Marine in the next bed was no longer there any more, and I could only guess that he too was on his way home.

Down the hallway I went as I watched the florescent lights pass by me like long rectangles floating above me.

At the loading dock. That is the best way that I can describe it, they put me on a bus. Something like an airport bus with a big door on the side, it might have even been a cattle car trailer, and they latched my stretcher on to a set of poles that were on the bus, and then another stretcher was latched on the same poles above me.

The funny things that you remember. I remember going from the cool AC of the hospital proper to the warm moist heat of the open air. It felt good!

I don't remember the ride as I could not see out of a window, but finally the bus came to a halt, and the big doors on the side of the bus opened and I could hear the sounds of big jet engines whistling and werring, and I could see some Airmen coming on to the bus and they took the stretcher above me first, and another crew took me, and they carried me up the aft ramp of what looked to be a C-130.

The plane was already fairly well full, and I got one of the last spots near the door, and I was on the top of another stretcher.

From what I remember, there were four rows of men on stretchers, about two or three high, and forward of the stretchers, there were seats for the walking wounded, and there were Soldiers, Sailors and Marines in different mixes of uniform and pajamas with large bulky castes and such on their arms and their legs, some with a caste over one shoulder and with an arm hanging straight out to the side almost like they were waving at someone. There were guys with bandages over their eyes, or their jaws bandaged, and everybody seemed to be moving slower than was right.

I guess I was the last stretcher to be looaded aboard the plane, because the Arimen that were detailed as a labor party were leaving down the ramp and off of the plane, and a blond nurse Captain about in her thiries in an Air Force Uniform came up to me, and she put a thermometer into my mouth and a bloodpressure thing on my arm, and she took my pulse, and she marked some things down on a paper on a clipboard. She took the thermometer from my mouth, and said something about a fever and she wrote that down as well.

And then! The big ramp started to climb upward, znd the nurse looked at me and said something else, but there was too much noise to hear what she said what with the engines revving up and the sound gatting louder. She just shook down the thermometer, and she put it in a solution in a jar on a small desk set up right behing the middle rows of stretchers.

And the door clamped shut, and some Airmen were doing some things on the door, and in a few moments, the plane started to move. She tried to say something to me again, but the engines were even louder now, and finally, she just gave up and she picked up some other clipboards and she did her rounds to the other stretchers.

After about a half an hour, she came back and she started to strap herself into a juump seat in the back of the plane, and the engines got even louder and we were moving forward again and we were picking up speed. Faster and faster we went, until we lifted off from the ground and into the air.

I'm going home!!!

It was September 2, 1966, and I was on my way home to the Big PX! I made it! God damn it! I made it!

Some hours later we were starting to get slower, and we were going down. I could tell by the way my ears were popping we were going down, and for some reason it hurt like hell in my ears!

When I was being med-evac'd back to the USA in this C-130, we stopped for refueling somewhere in Alaska. I guess it wasn't cold enough for us Jungle crawlers with nothing on but a thin sheet, so, they had to take us home through the coldest spot they could find, Alaska. Can you believe that? Alaska?

Well, the most of us were hung on the side of the plane like so many planks of wood, and in the middle isles of the plane were the rows of stretchers, and all any of us had between us, any of us, and the elements was those thin hospital sheets.

We touched down with a jolt, and a screech of brakes, and a surge of the engines, and after some time we came to a stop, and the rear door came opened.

Great God Almighty! That air came into the plane like gang busters, and the freezing cold air of it hit us like a hammer.

All of a sudden though there was this little old lady in a Red Cross Uniform wheeling up a donuts and coffee truck to us wounded and naked Soldiers, and Marines, and Corpsmen, and our spirits were brought to a high again. Imagine that, they thought about us in here on this plane enough to send someone here with hot coffee. That was cool!

I was near the door on the starboard side of the plane, and the woman asked if I would like some coffee, and I said, "Yes! I would love some coffee!"

It was just what I needed to ward off that cold wind coming in the door.

The woman handed me a cup, and said, "That will be Fifty Cents, Please!"

I looked at her like she had two heads, and I told her that I had no money, for that matter I had no uniform, all that I had was this thin sheet that just bearly covered me, and I had not seen American money for the last half a year or more.

Much to my surprise! That old battleax! She took the coffee back from my hand, and she said, "I'm Sorry! You can not have the coffee then!"

And, I could just not say anything, as a matter of fact I almost felt like crying at that point. I really wanted that cup of coffee, and I was shivvering like a vibrator in that opened doorway because the cold, and now the anger. I wanted that hot coffee!

There was a big Marine Gunny that had his arm in sling, that came to the back of the plane at that point. He was still in some sort of Jungle blouse and jungle trousers, and he walked back and he said to the lady, as the noise from the troops, and the anger, was beginning to get scary from the Marines, and Soldiers, and Sailors on the plane.

"Ma'am, These men are just off the battlefields of Vietnam, and none of them don't have any money on them. Besides, what the hell are you doing trying to sell coffee to these brave and wounded men? You should be giving it to them! Not selling it to them!"

The screams and the insults were getting pretty bad by now, and the Air Dudes that were working the door immediately rushed in to get the lady and her RED CROSS Coffee truck off of the plane to the shouts of disgust from the wounded on the plane, and the Gunny was standing there and he was shaking his good hand in a fist at her.

He screamed after her, "What are you doing to these fine men, selling them coffee, you should be giving it to them!"

An Air Force dude stepped infront of the Gunny, but a quick look into the Gunny's eyes sent him scurrying down the plank past the RED CROSS Coffee Lady, and off of the plane. The Gunny was pissed!!!

Needless to say, within minutes, the plank was lifted and the cold air was stopped from coming in on us, and there was chatter all over the airplane for sometime about what the hell was the Red Cross, and the Air Force that allowed her onto the plane, must have been thinking?

About an hour later, the plane took off, and the next landing was in California, somewhere, I don't know where! Only, this time, when the doors were opened, another coffee cart was wheeled up the plank, and this one was pushed by a little old man from the Salvation Army this time.

Wouldn't you know, he asked, "Does anyone here want Coffee and a donut?"

Immediately, the question was asked by everyone in earshot of him, "How much?"

And, I saw the big Gunny getting up and he was walking to the back of the plane, again.

The man looked surprised by the question, as the Gunny neared him.

"Why? Its all free of course! What did you think?"

The Gunny walked up, and he hugged the old man, and he helped the old man to hand out cups of coffee and a donut to each of the men on the stretchers first. Each time he went back to the cart, he was thanking the old man, and the Salvation Army, for being there for his men.

I never forgot that day, and to this day, I have always donated anything to the Salvation Army, and I have never given a dime to the Red Cross since!

This message has been edited. Last edited by: Joe_Carey,

quote:

they could not put me on the 'Bye-bye' C-130

Medavac flights were usually done by C-141 Starlifter's. They were faster and smoother. I first worked C-141's in 1972.

I know what you mean by the Red Cross. I remember when I was a kid watching the fire department try to put out an appartment building.
They were selling coffee and donuts to the fire fighters and the people who were loosing everything.

I donated to the USO myself.

quote:

Originally posted by Bullhunter:

quote:

they could not put me on the 'Bye-bye' C-130

Medavac flights were usually done by C-141 Starlifter's. They were faster and smoother. I first worked C-141's in 1972.

I know what you mean by the Red Cross. I remember when I was a kid watching the fire department try to put out an appartment building.
They were selling coffee and donuts to the fire fighters and the people who were loosing everything.

I donated to the USO myself.

You may be correct about the designation of the aircraft, it was not like I got to go out and to kick the tires on the thing, or to ask a lot of questions about it at the time. All that I really knew was that I was going home! If it took a Hanoi Taxi to do that, I was all for it! After all, it was not a helicopter, and that pleased me to no end.

But, this was in 66, and it was much different than the MATS ride going into Vietnam.

I checked on the C-141 history. You might be correct on the C-130. The C-141's did not start entering military service until 1965. C-130's were likely still doing most of the work waiting for the numbers of C-141's to build up.
Like you say. A RIDE HOME IS A RIDE HOME.


The Lockheed C-141 Starlifter was a military strategic airlifter in service with the United States Air Force. Introduced to replace slower piston-engined cargo planes such as the C-124 Globemaster II, the C-141 was designed to requirements set in 1960 and first flew in 1963. Production deliveries of an eventual 285 planes began in 1965: 284 for the Military Airlift Command, and one for NASA. The aircraft remained in service for almost 40 years until the USAF withdrew the C-141 from service on May 5, 2006, replacing the aircraft with the C-17 Globemaster III.

Good, airplane talk, love it. I thought the C-141 was a fine bird. I only flew in her a few times while on active duty, but it seemed much more after retirement, in both the Pacific and Middle East. Those engines on takeoff could sure push one back in the seat.

Tipath

My ride home, and the red cross. April, 1967 I was a sgt in the Marine Corps and Had a knot on my throut. They flew me to the Navy hospital in ukuska japan from danang. Then from Japan to the states. I remember loading in japan into a 141 and trying to calm down a young marine on a streacher who was screaming. the nurse said that he had to be quiet or he wouldn,t make the flight. He was more bandages than skin and I got him quiet by telling him if he was quiet he would go home, he tried real hard for a while , but startedagain and they took him off. We stopped in alaska and they took off the walking to a rest area for an hr or so, as I walked off the plane the read cross had a camera set up talking pictures of them handing out cigrette, very one was out. I reached for a pack and a red cross worker said keep moving, I thought they just wanted the unloading to go smooth so I did. we got on the bus and I found no body got any thing but their picture taken.

One additional reply, I'm sure Joe Carey was right about the c i30 vs the c141, However Yyou must remember that Marines in Vietnam had much more important things on their minds than proper air craft identification. So if your sqaud climed in and it set you down in an open rice paddy It was a helicopter, If it helped you fight after you got there It was a A4 skyhawk, If your whole platoon climbed in and it took off from a runway it was a c130. but what ever it was the planes crew was probably going to sleep on sheets that night so why worry about asinging them the correct numbers. don't even get me started on those who avoided going at all.

quote:

Originally posted by sgt_de:
One additional reply, I'm sure Joe Carey was right about the c i30 vs the c141, However Yyou must remember that Marines in Vietnam had much more important things on their minds than proper air craft identification. So if your sqaud climed in and it set you down in an open rice paddy It was a helicopter, If it helped you fight after you got there It was a A4 skyhawk, If your whole platoon climbed in and it took off from a runway it was a c130. but what ever it was the planes crew was probably going to sleep on sheets that night so why worry about asinging them the correct numbers. don't even get me started on those who avoided going at all.

Thanks Sgt DE, actually,it was bigger than a bread box, and that was all that I cared about.

My father was in Manilla during the liberation in WW2, a Navy Radioman, and had not had a bath in weeks. The only soap available was from a Red Cross tent, which made him sign a chit to repay them before he could get a bar of soap. He had donated his entire paycheck to the Red Cross prior to deployment, but he never, ever, gave anything else to the Red Cross. When I went in the Navy and needed help, the Red Cross always made sure they would be paid before giving any assistance. When, as a kid, on SAR missions on Galveston Bay looking for lost boaters, in often very crummy weather, the Red Cross truck would pull up and sell coffee or donuts at 4 to 5 times the normal cost. The Salvation Army was totally different and to this day I donate to the Salvation Army. Many time over the years they have helped folks all over the place and not charged for it.
Greg Luckett
Seabee

quote:

Originally posted by luckettg:
My father was in Manilla during the liberation in WW2, a Navy Radioman, and had not had a bath in weeks. The only soap available was from a Red Cross tent, which made him sign a chit to repay them before he could get a bar of soap. He had donated his entire paycheck to the Red Cross prior to deployment, but he never, ever, gave anything else to the Red Cross. When I went in the Navy and needed help, the Red Cross always made sure they would be paid before giving any assistance. When, as a kid, on SAR missions on Galveston Bay looking for lost boaters, in often very crummy weather, the Red Cross truck would pull up and sell coffee or donuts at 4 to 5 times the normal cost. The Salvation Army was totally different and to this day I donate to the Salvation Army. Many time over the years they have helped folks all over the place and not charged for it.
Greg Luckett
Seabee

Luckett! My point exactly! The Salvation Army does some terrific work, and you never see their hands out afterwards, except for a hand shake, a hand up, a hand out, or a hand on the back of the people they have helped.

My only experience with the Red Cross was after discharge from the 8th field Hosp, passed a tent with donuts and coffee staffed by Red Cross ladies, I stopped by to see if I could partake since I hadn't seen a donut in 8 months, before I could say a word (I was still in my gubby jungle fatiques I was medivaced with) I was told that "this is for Officers only". Never bothered the RC again and never will.

Coffee and Donuts for Officers Only, in a combat zone, or a military hospital for wounded Soldiers? I don't think that would have played well in and around a Marine Unit. The best I know of Our Officers in Combat, they would have stopped it themselves unless it was open to all the men.

Things were hot when I got to my unit in Dak To fall of 1967. Didn't write home till just before Christmas. My mom was worried & asked the Red Cross to help. Their reply: "So many have died in the 173d with the name of Smith that he may be among them". Just by the grace of God she had received my letter the day before the response from the Red Cross.