When Americans woke up Sunday morning on December 7, 1941, they were stunned to learn Japanese naval aircraft had attacked Pearl Harbor. What they would soon find out that was only the beginning. Pearl Harbor was just one part of the Japanese plan for the day. Within hours, Japanese naval and ground forces attacked and invaded Wake Island, Guam, Malaya, Singapore, Honk Kong, Thailand and Burma.
Ten hours after the devastating surprise attack that crippled the U.S. Pacific Fleet anchored at Pearl Harbor, Japanese planes launched the first in a deadly series of attacks on the Philippine Islands, bombing and strafing military airfields and bases in and around Manila. Caught in the air raids were ninety-nine army and navy women nurses. Immediately they rushed to their respective hospitals and began assisting with the endless flow of military and civilian casualties. It is almost certain that none ever dreamed they would be thrust into a deadly shooting war.
Unknown to them and others was two Japanese convoys were steaming toward Luzon with thousands of combat forces to defeat Philippine forces and their American counterparts.
Japanese forces landed first on the southern tip of Luzon on December 11, far away from Manila to become an immediate concern. Eleven days later on December 22, over 43,000 Japanese troops of General Homma's 14th Army landed at Luzon's Lingayen Gulf with artillery and 100 tanks, catching the already badly war-damaged Manila in a deadly crossfire.
By Christmas, with Japanese ground forces on the outskirts of Manila, American medical personnel were ordered to retreat to the Bataan Peninsula. The Army nurses, together with Navy nurse, Ann A. Bernatitus, under the command of Capt. Maude Davison escaped within hours before Manila fell.
The navy nurses, under the command of Lt. Laura M. Cobb, stayed behind in Manila to support the patients there. She and her 11 navy nurses were soon captured and interned by the Japanese in the Santo Tomas Internment Camp on the campus of the University of Santo Tomas.
In Bataan, two field hospitals had been set up in the steamy jungle wetlands, complete with swamps, bugs, snakes, rats and mosquitoes feasting on patients and nurses, adding Malaria to an ever-growing list of problems. Within hours of arriving, casualties began pouring in. Early patients were placed in hospital beds but as more and more casualties arrived daily, others were stacked on triple-tiered bamboo bunks in overcrowded wards in open-air tents.
Soon the Japanese discovered the hospitals and started heavy aerial bombardments. Nurses dodged bombshell fragments while ministering to their patients. When explosions came close to the wards, some nurses would protect their patients from falling shrapnel by spreading their arms over them.
For four months the women worked their shifts in temperatures that reached 104 degrees. Every sort of Medicine including painkillers were running out. Rations were twice cut in half. Yet ridden with disease, starvation and in constant danger for their lives, these "Angels of Bataan" as they became known, worked from daybreak until dark giving aid to 5,000 wounded men and assisting surgeons perform operations.
With the constant bombing by Japanese planes and supplies running out completely, the nurses were ordered to retreat to Corregidor. They were also ordered to leave behind their patients. The women became angry and confused: Their job was to care for their patients, not abandon them. According to diaries and later interviews, they felt like traitors leaving behind "the boys" in their beds in the middle of a jungle wasteland. None ever got over the eyes of their patients as they left to board boats for transport to the tiny island of Corregidor. Each lived to regret it in her own way.
Two days later, on April 9, 1942, the weary, emaciated American soldiers on Bataan surrender to the Japanese. That same day, approximately 60,000-80,000 Filipino and American military prisoners of war began an 80 mile march to a POW prison at Camp O'Donnell where physical abuse, denied food and water and wholesale murder were widespread it what became known as the Bataan Death March. Some 2,500-10,000 Filipino and 100-650 American prisoners of war died before they could reach their destination.
Conditions and treatment were so bad at Camp O'Donnell, around 20,000 Filipinos and 1,600 Americans died. It was liberated by the US Army and Philippine Commonwealth Army January 30, 1945. Some of the Japanese responsible for the atrocities on the march and in the prison were hanged for war crimes.
When the nurse arrived on the six square mile island of Corregidor, they were thrust into the dank underground maze of tunnels dug deep into the bowels of the island. They joined the medical staff already working in the underground hospital and wards in the cavernous Malinta Tunnel.
On April 29, a small group of Army nurses were evacuated, with other passengers, aboard a navy PBY Catalina. On May 3, the sole Navy nurse, Ann Bernatitus, a few more Army nurses, and a small group of civilians were evacuated aboard the submarine USS Spearfish (SS-190).
Three days later, on May 6, 1942, Corregidor surrendered.
At noon a bugler played "taps" as two American officers lowered the Stars and Stripes from the flagpole outside the entrance to Malinta Tunnel. In its place, a single white sheet of surrender was raised. A small piece of the flag was cut off by one officer as a memento and then set the rest of the Red, White and Blue on fire.
Underground the women ripped a large square of cloth from a rough muslin bed sheet and wrote at the top, "Members of the Army Nurse Corps and Civilian Women who were in Malinta Tunnel when Corregidor fell." Underneath in three columns, the 69 women signed their names.
On July 2, 1942, the nurses were transported to the Santo Tomas Internment Camp. Capt. Davison, 57 years old and with 20 years of service experience, took command of the nurses and instructed her fellow nurse captives to put on their working uniforms and create an infirmary. The Angels of Bataan had arrived.
Over the course of two years, the nurses ministered to captive soldiers and American civilians. To maintain morale, Davison created a structure within the ranks, requiring nurses to work at least four-hour shifts each day. She wisely understood that keeping her nurses busy caring for others would give them purpose and less time thinking about their own miseries.
In May 1943, the navy nurses, still under the command of Lt. Cobb, were transferred to a new internment camp at Los Banos, where they established an infirmary and continued working as a nursing unit and became known as "the sacred eleven."
Photo was taken of the navy nurses shortly after they were liberated in February 1945.
In January 1944, control of the Santo Tomas Internment Camp changed from Japanese civil authorities to the Imperial Japanese Army, with whom it remained until the camp was liberated. Access to outside food sources was curtailed, the diet of the internees was reduced to 960 calories per person per day by November 1944, and further reduced to 700 calories per person per day by January 1945.
The nurses lost, on average, 30% of their body weight during internment, and subsequently experienced a degree of service-connected disability "virtually the same as the male ex-POW's of the Pacific Theater." Maude Davison's bodyweight dropped from 156 lbs. to 80 lbs.
News of the captured military nurses spread throughout the U.S. While their status as POWs was known, details of their living conditions were sketchy. Using the plight of the nurses as a battle cry on the home front, federal authorities distributed posters urging American citizens to "Work! To set 'em free!"
Lt. Juanita Redmond, one of the few nurses to escape during the last few days before Corregidor surrendered, published a memoir of her experiences on Bataan in 1943 that concluded with a dramatic reminder that her colleagues were still prisoners. Her best-selling book, "I Served on Bataan," was also the basis for the motion picture, "So Proudly We Hail." In the theaters where the movie was shown, recruitment booths staffed with Red Cross volunteers were set up in the lobbies.
True to his promise that he would return to liberate the Filipino people, General Douglas MacArthur's forces retook the Philippine Islands from the Japanese. The internees at Santo Tomas, including the nurses, were liberated on February 3, 1945, by a "flying column" of the 1st Cavalry. The navy nurses were subsequently liberated in the Raid at Los Banos.
While thousands of men had died during the course of the Philippines Campaign, all 77 nurses made it out alive. Through four years of deprivation, cruelty and constant death, they valiantly served to save others. None of the Army or Navy nurses are thought to survive today. Many died fairly young. Others had chronic gastrointestinal and dental problems, as well as emotional and post-traumatic stress symptoms.
The men whose lives were touched by the Angels of Bataan and Corregidor erected a bronze plaque in their honor on April 9, 1980. It is at the Mount Samat shrine on the Bataan Peninsula. It reads:
TO THE ANGELS-- In honor of the valiant American military women who gave so much of themselves in the early days of World War II. They provided care and comfort to the gallant defenders of Bataan and Corregidor. They lived on a starvation diet, shared the bombing, strafing, sniping, sickness and disease while working endless hours of heartbreaking duty. These nurses always had a smile, a tender touch and a kind word for their patients. They truly earned the name--THE ANGELS OF BATAAN AND CORREGIDOR.
Friday morning February 2, 2008 was cold in Baghdad but since Friday is a big shopping day, shoppers crowded the markets throughout the city. At one of Baghdad's most popular gathering places, the al-Ghazl animal market, hundreds of closely packed shoppers moved from stall to stall when suddenly and without warning, a huge explosion shattered the silence, killing dozens of Iraq's.
Twenty minutes later, another bomb ripped through an open air market in south eastern Baghdad.
The two suicide bombers who carried out the attacks that ultimately killed 99 people were mentally challenged women with Down's syndrome. The unwitting pawns were apparently fooled into wearing explosive vests which were then detonated remotely by mobile phones as the women mingled with crowds, killing 46 people and injuring 100 in the al-Ghazl explosion. In the second bombing at the smaller bird market in south-eastern Baghdad, 27 people were killed and at least 67 wounded, many dying later.
When it became apparent that Al-Qaeda terrorists had used women with the minds of children to carry out their suicide bombings, Iraqis were horrified and angry. The American commanders were equally upset, taking immediate action by preparing an attack on the Al-Qaeda cell responsible. A few days later, on February 4, 2008, a raid was executed on the terrorists' compound.
Among the American Task Force raiders in the nighttime mission were two U.S. Navy SEALs: Chief Petty Officers Nathan "Nate" Hardy and Michael "Mike" Koch. As in any small, elite unit, the two were close friends, counting on one another to watch the other's back. Both also came from families with a tradition of service. Hardy's grandfather served with John F. Kennedy on PT-109 during WWII. Koch's dad had a career in the U.S. Air Force and later, he and his wife became civilian contractors in Iraq and Afghanistan.
Nate Hardy was born December 28, 1978 in Cape Cod. He grew up in Washington and Pennsylvania and his family settled in New Hampshire in 1988. It was in high school where Nate, a star soccer and lacrosse player, made the decision to join the Navy and become a SEAL immediately after graduation. Nate joined the Navy in 1997, following in the footsteps of his two grandfathers, both Navy veterans. After graduating from BUD/s in May of 1998 with class 221, he was subsequently assigned to SEAL Team 8 out of Virginia Beach where he served from 1998 until attending U.S. Naval Special Warfare Development Group's (DEVGRUs) Green Team selection course in 2007.
Michael E. Koch, born May 12, 1978 in Omaha, Nebraska, enjoyed adventures wherever his father's military career took the family. Growing up, he learned to climb mountains, scuba dive and scale cliffs. During visits to his grandparents' farm near Jersey Shore, he practiced rappelling by descending the silo. Family outings might include skydiving and snowmobiling.
He attended Penn State University, but left to enlist in the Navy in 1998. Joining the elite Special Forces was always his goal. He entered SEAL training in 1999. After graduating from SEAL training, Mike served in Kosovo and Afghanistan.
Each man carrying out the late night mission had specific jobs to do. Nate was the second man on the stack to enter the enemy-held building. Upon breaching, Nate and the lead man, Mike, were ambushed by enemy small arms fire. Mike and Nate were immediately hit. Mortally wounded, Nate engaged and killed the enemy fighters while dragging his wounded teammate to safety. In his final moments in this world, Nate held on to life long enough to pull Koch to safety. He died that night of February 4, 2008 with his dying brother-in-arms Mike at his side. Also killed that night were the terrorists they had targeted.
At the time of his death, Nate was survived by his wife Mindy and his seven month old son Parker, his parents and brother. It was his fourth deployment in Iraq, according to his father, Stephen Hardy, a University of New Hampshire professor of kinesiology. His mother, Donna Hardy, is an administrative assistant in UNH's psychology department.
Nate's numerous awards and decorations included two Bronze Stars, a Purple Heart, and a Defense Meritorious Service Medal. In addition to Iraq, he served in Afghanistan and Kosovo.
Mike left behind his parents, Donald Koch, a 20-year U.S. Air Force veteran and Jean Ann Burkholder as well as his brother Matthew, who accompanied his brother's body back to Virginia Beach, also served 6 years in the U.S. Navy and his younger sister, Tiffany. Mike and his sister were born on an Air Force base in Omaha, Nebraska, and Matthew was born on another base in New Mexico.
He also left behind his fiance, Kathy Howell of Virginia Beach. The couple was engaged for eight years.
During Mike's career, he received the Bronze Star, Purple Heart, Joint Service Commendation Medal and three Navy and Marine Corps Achievement Medals. In addition to fighting in Iraq, he also served in Afghanistan and Kosovo.
As they fought and died side-by-side, Mike and Nate are buried side-by-side each other at Arlington National Cemetery.
When Michael Reagan came back from the Vietnam War he said there was a piece of him missing. "I joined because there was a war going on, and I felt it was my duty to do that" said Reagan.
Reagan was sent to Con Thien, Vietnam, in the summer of 1967, and he served in the U.S. Marine Corps as a corporal in the 3rd battalion, 4th Marine Regiment from 1966 to 1969. "I wondered, what am I doing here? There's some pretty scary stuff happening," said Reagan.
His return home wasn't easy, he said. "I remember on April 10 1968, when I landed at the airport. I was spit on and called names. It was not very comfortable." For the next five years, he said, it was very tough for him to adjust to civilian life. "I didn't break any laws but drank a lot, and I was pretty screwed up."
Reagan's interest in drawing started while he was in the service. "In Vietnam at the Distribution Management Center, you were either fighting or not doing anything, and rather than sit around and not do anything, I would draw pictures of the Marines I was with or their families, and, sadly, sometimes the only thing that would come home from fallen Marines were the drawings I did," said Reagan.
That desire to become an artist drove him to the Burnley School for Professional Art in Seattle when he was 27 years old. "I didn't realize how hard it was going to be, but the harder it got, the harder I worked, and I knew this was what I wanted to be," said Reagan.
After finishing his three-year program at the Burnley School, he got a job at the University of Washington, and retired after 30 years. During that time, Reagan drew thousands of portraits of major celebrities, movie stars, politicians, heads of state, Playboy Playmates, and he became a very successful artist.
While Reagan drew portraits for profit, he also liked to do charity work, and said he saw it as a way to pay-it-forward after his safe return from the war. "I would get the celebrities to sign some blank illustration boards and redraw their portraits and then would auction those to charities. When I got home I really needed to do something to thank the gods for bringing me back home, because I shouldn't have come home," said Reagan.
After 25 years of portraits, Reagan got a call from a local TV news station in Seattle to do a story, and the station said to him, "You know what Mike? We realized that over the 25 years you've been doing this work for charities, you've raised over $10 million," said Reagan.
That news story was seen nationally, and it was then that a widow whose husband died in combat called Reagan. "I received a call from a Gold Star widow Charisse Johnson from Boise, Idaho, and she said, "How much would you charge me to do a portrait of my husband? He was a Corpsman and died in Iraq in 2003," said Reagan. He told Johnson that he would not charge for drawing the portrait of Navy Hospital Corpsman 3rd Class Michael Vann Johnson Jr.
"I'll never forget it. I sent it out, and about two weeks later Charisse called me and said, 'In a year I haven't slept a full night. Yesterday, I received the portrait of my husband, and I'm calling to thank you because when I opened the package and saw the portrait I looked into his eyes. I reconnected instantly with him. I talked to him and was able to finish some of the conversations we didn't get to finish," said Reagan.
Reagan was very moved by Johnson's wife, and he knew this portrait wasn't going to be his last one after that, and that's how the Fallen Heroes Project was born in 2004. "The year before I did this project I was paid $75,000 by the Mariners to do a painting, but this project took over my life, and I figure I needed to do this. I said to my wife, 'You know this is going to change our life, but it was OK because she knew what this meant to me," said Reagan.
Ten years later and 3,632 portraits to date all done free of charge of fallen soldiers, Reagan continues to pay tribute to the fallen for their ultimate sacrifice. He opens up his email early in the morning and late at night and sees family requests. "I read a lot about the person I draw and look at tapes and videos of the families. I have a spiritual conversation with the person I'm drawing trying to decipher the message they need me to send home. I'll never know the message as long as the picture contains it, so when the families get it whatever happens on the other end happens. I'm the vehicle," said Reagan. He draws an average of two portraits a day every day.
"I have a soft spot in my heart for Mike Reagan", says TWS Chief Administrator Diane Short. "I was working with Mike on our monthly newsletter "Voices" in which he tells his story, when my dad passed away."
"I told Mike that my dad was a WWII, Korean and Vietnam vet that had raised nine kids and grandfather to twenty-two. He was gracious enough to ask me a few questions about him and his service. He called me back later that day to say he wanted to do my dad's portrait. I was blown away. He didn't have to do that, but that is the kind of man he is."
"When I returned from my dad's funeral, this wonderful portrait was waiting for me. It now hangs in my livingroom."
For Reagan, this is a huge adventure, and he feels very fortunate to be a part of it. "There's an incredible amount of trauma and pain for the families who lost these people. They're all proud of their sons and daughters, husbands and wives, all of them. They are allowing me, a total stranger, to play this incredible part. I came home from Vietnam in 1968, I thought whole, but what I actually had when I came home was a hole. This project and these wonderful families that allow me to do this work for them have allowed that hole to be filled in my soul again," said Reagan. "I made a commitment to the Marine Corps, and they taught me what commitment was all about and the Fallen Heroes Project is a lifetime commitment."
Fallen Heroes Project's mission is to honor the American Fallen Heroes for their ultimate sacrifice during the war against terrorism. The foundation will provide the resources to produce and distribute to each family a hand-drawn portrait of their Fallen Hero, created by artist Michael G. Reagan, free of charge. Each portrait is intended to show our Love and Respect for these Heroes and their families.
We recently received an email from an American military family stationed in Germany. The writer was Chelsea Morris, wife of a TWS member. She wrote about her family's visit to a memorial in Belgium honoring the thousands of soldiers who died in the Battle of the Bulge.
Before getting to the content of her email, we'd like to give our readers a little background of the battle that cost more American lives than any other in all of World War II.
Background
In late 1944, in the wake of the allied forces' successful D-Day invasion of Normandy, France, it seemed as if the Second World War was all but over. Rumors spread that soldiers would be home by Christmas. So certain this would be the case, troops were not issued sufficient winter gear. But the offensive that had liberated most of France and Belgium slowed down upon reaching the German border. Americans dug into a pocket of eastern Belgium and Luxembourg with much of it in the densely forested Ardennes region.
On a misty winter morning on December 16, 1944, American and other Allied forces were caught off-guard when German troops and nearly 1,000 tanks launched a counteroffensive that was intended to cut through the Allied forces in a manner that would turn the tide of the war in Hitler's favor.
Seeking to split the Allied armies, the Germans struck along a seventy-five-mile stretch of the front characterized by dense woods and few roads, held by four inexperienced and battle-worn American divisions stationed there for rest and resupply.
After a day of hard fighting, the Germans broke through the American front, surrounding most of an infantry division, seizing key crossroads, and advancing their spearheads toward the Meuse River, the appearance of a large protrusion or bulge, the name by which the battle would forever be known.
Stories spread of the massacre of soldiers and civilians at Malmedy and Stavelot, of paratroopers dropping behind the lines, and of English-speaking German soldiers, disguised as Americans, capturing critical bridges, cutting communications lines, and spreading rumors. Those caught were executed as spies by a firing squad.
A crucial German shortage of fuel and the gallantry of American troops fighting and dying in the frozen forests of the Ardennes proved fatal to Hitler's ambition to snatch, if not victory, at least a draw with the Allies in the west. Lieutenant General George S. Patton's remarkable feat of turning the Third Army ninety degrees from Lorraine to relieve the besieged town of Bastogne, held by the 101st Airborne Division, was the key to stopping the German counteroffensive.
The Battle of the Bulge was the costliest action ever fought by the U.S. Army, which suffered over 100,000 casualties. The battle also severely depleted Germany's war-making resources in both men and equipment, signaling their cause was lost.
Within a few years, after the war ended, World War II monuments and memorials were erected everywhere in eastern Belgium, recalling flashpoints in the Battle of the Bulge, the last major German assault on the Western Front in World War II. Bastogne gets the most visitor attention, because of the drama of the rescue.
A popular tourist destination is the Mardasson Memorial located near Bastogne. This monument, in the form of a five-pointed American star, was designed to honor the memory of the 76,890 American soldiers killed, wounded or missing in the Battle of the Bulge. Among recent visitors, there was an American military family stationed in Germany.
Chelsea Morris' Email
My husband and I are currently assigned to a base in Germany and we recently had an experience that I thought was worth sharing.
Living overseas has been a difficult experience for my husband and me, being so close with our families. We had never been separated by more than a hundred miles, let alone an entire ocean. So when my family came to visit, we were ecstatic. We planned small outings and day trips, never realizing how we would be affected by one trip in particular.
We chose to drive from our house to Bastogne, Belgium, home to the Battle of Bastogne.
It is a small little town just inside the southern border of Belgium that, despite being outnumbered, held out as a stronghold for allied forces against the expansion of Nazi, Germany.
Before leaving, we watched documentaries on the battle, which were laden with old pictures of soldiers, frozen and starving, entrenched in feet of snow with their wounded and deceased comrades scattered about them. Hopeless, Belgian forces still held out for months during a brutal winter against a horrific enemy until American reinforcements arrived. Though still severely disadvantaged, American and Belgian troops fought side by side, winning the battle, and forever fortifying their friendship.
When we arrived at the memorial, the sun was beginning to set. The all-white, massive stone structure sat on a hill. A series of pillars jutted out at five points on the structure to create a star, which came together to form a circular garden in the middle. The five points of the stars listed every American state represented by the troops that fought alongside the Belgians.
The interior garden was surrounded by text describing the battle and praising the Americans for their bravery and friendship. The sun beamed through the pillars as it set, birds chirping all around. It was surreal, on such a beautiful day, to imagine what had come before us.
Climbing to the top of the memorial, I saw my husband sitting on a bench, talking to an old man. I came down and asked my husband what he was talking to the old man about.
My husband said, "I asked the man if he comes here often. Though his English was poor, I was able to understand a little. He responded that he comes here every day. He said, each afternoon, he walks the three miles from his house to the memorial, rain or shine, and he sits on that bench. I asked him if his family fought in the war, and he said yes. Then, I then asked him why he came every day. What the old man said moved me. He took a slow, deep breath, and quietly said, 'Because I must.'"
I turned to look at the man, still sitting on the bench as the sun went down. He was not reading a book. He was not talking on a cellphone. He sat with nothing but a cane, staring at the memorial as if it were the first time he had ever laid eyes upon it. In America, so many are lucky if they have a long enough attention span to remember the last war. And here is a man who, seventy years later, still felt such an overwhelming sense of thankfulness that he dedicated his life to a grateful remembrance, knowing how different his life would have been, had it not been for the friendship that was forged between our country and his.
For decades the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand, nephew of Emperor Franz Josef and heir to the Austro-Hungarian Empire, was considered the cause of World War I. Certainly the June 1914 assassination in Sarajevo, Bosnia ignited the firestorm that ended up costing millions of lives, but it was the culmination of much deeper root causes that had been part of the European fabric for hundreds of years.
Countries throughout Europe made mutual defense agreements that if one country was attacked, allied countries were bound to defend them. Before World War I, such mutual defense agreements or alliances existed between Russia and Serbia; Germany and Austria-Hungary; France and Russia; Britain and France and Belgium; and Japan and Britain.
So when Austria-Hungary declared war on Serbia immediately following the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand, Russia vowed to defend Serbia. Germany seeing Russia mobilizing, declared war on Russia. France was then drawn in against Germany and Austria-Hungary. Germany attacked France through Belgium pulling Britain into war. Then Japan entered the war. Later, Italy and the United States would enter on the side of the allies.
Before World War I, Africa and parts of Asia were points of contention amongst the European countries. This was especially true because of the raw materials these areas could provide. The increasing competition and desire for greater empires led to an increase in confrontation that helped push the world into World War I.
As the world entered the 20th century, an arms race had begun. By 1914, Germany had the greatest increase in military buildup. Great Britain and Germany both greatly increased their navies in this time period. In Germany and Russia particularly, the military establishment began to have a greater influence on public policy. This increase in militarism helped push the countries involved to war.
Much of the origin of the war was based on the desire of the Slavic peoples in Bosnia and Herzegovina to no longer be part of Austria Hungary but instead be part of Serbia. In this way, nationalism led directly to the War. But in a more general way, the nationalism of the various countries throughout Europe contributed not only to the beginning but the extension of the war in Europe. Each country tried to prove their dominance and power.
The assassination of Franz-Ferdinand and Sophie in Sarajevo, Bosnia by Serbian nationalist Gavrilo Princip set off a rapid chain of events, fueled by centuries of alliances, imperialism, militarism and nationalism. The assassination was in protest to Austria-Hungary having control of this region. Serbia wanted to take over Bosnia and Herzegovina. This assassination led to Austria-Hungary declaring war on Serbia. When Russia began to mobilize due to its alliance with Serbia, Germany declared war on Russia. Thus began the expansion of the war to include all those involved in the mutual defense alliances.
The great Prussian statesman Otto von Bismarck, the man most responsible for the unification of Germany in 1871 once said that "One day the great European War will come out of some damned foolish thing in the Balkans."
He died in July 1898 never having seen his prediction come true in what became among the deadliest conflicts in human history with over 17 million military and civilian deaths and another 20 million wounded.
Thousands of books about Vietnam have been printed. Nearly all of them are memoirs, authored by those who experienced what is scripted. A few are fiction, occasionally written by someone who was in Vietnam at the time of the war while others are creations of fertile minds. Some have been made into Hollywood movies.
What makes "The Patient was Vietcong" different than the standard Vietnam War narrative of books and movies and all those memoirs? Because it is about a healer whose remarkable and uncommon and humbling experiences in a strange land with widely different cultures leads to a self-discovery that is both enlightening and satisfying.
Back in the 1960s, Lawrence Climo was opposed to the war but unlike many other protesters, he did not burn his draft card or leave the country. In 1965 the draft caught up with the young physician just out of medical training. When he finished his military training he would be sent to Vietnam. During training he learned about a unique humanitarian mission with counter insurgency objectives that was looking for doctors. It was the military provincial hospital augmentation program (MILPHAP).
Liking the idea that he would go over as a healer not a warrior whose military mission it was to take care of civilians, he volunteered. After he arrived, he faithfully keep a diary, which became the basis for his book years later.
At the start he appreciated the varied interactions with people of different religious, social, racial and ethnic cultures, especially among both Americans and Vietnamese as well as between the two. Whatever culture shocks emerge provided, if not intrigue or entertaining, became at least informative. But then he encountered a culture shock that proved toxic and threatened to corrupt both MILPHAP and himself: The mission was humanitarian yet there was a strong sense of contamination because of its political objective.
His patients were Vietnamese civilians and North Vietnamese refugees who had been resettled here after the country's partition in 1954. Other patients were Vietcong and North Vietnamese Army soldiers who surrendered and turned themselves in under the Chieu Hoi program. Wanting to help as many ailing individuals as possible, he would travel deep into the jungle and hills, sometimes on the back of elephants, to treat outlying hamlets, some inhabited by Vietnamese, but mostly by Rhade Montagnard, the indigenous peoples of Vietnam's Central Highlands.
If you want to read an intelligently and passionately written book about a unique Vietnam wartime experience, this is that book. In it you'll discover adventure, uncertainty, loss, humor, joy and above all else, discovery of human kindness and sacrifice.
About the Author
Dr. Lawrence H. Climo grew up in New Haven, Connecticut where he attended Yale College majoring in Culture and Human Behavior. He attended medical school at Albert Einstein College of Medicine in the Bronx, New York. He also spent six months in England studying neurology at the National Hospital for Nervous Diseases, Maida Vale, and psychiatry where a new concept, social and community psychiatry, was being explored and applied. He received his M.D. in 1964. He entered the U.S. Army in 1965.
In addition to 'The Patient Was Vietcong,' he is also the author of 'Psychiatrist on the Road.' He lives with his wife in Andover, MA.