For All Their Lives (17 page)

“Yes, sir.”

She was tired, but not as tired as she had been the day before. She was also starving. She was clean, her hair washed, and she added lipstick and a dab of powder to her already damp nose. She rubbed it off when she saw the way it clumped on her skin. Au naturel was the way to go. It had to be. There was no choice. She smiled at her reflection. She was adjusting. Even her feet felt better.

The others were already seated when Casey entered the Officers' Club. Maureen Hagen was seated next to Lily Gia, and next to her were Luke and two other doctors, whom she was finally seeing for the first time without their surgical masks. She wondered whose guest Lily was, or if that protocol wasn't a requirement at the club.

Off duty they were a wholesome group. The talk was about home and friends and favorite foods.

“What I really miss is the change of seasons,” Maureen said wistfully.

“Hell, we can fix that right up,” a doctor named Sam said brightly. “We're getting some flowers. I put the order in last night. Personally. Flowers will make it summer. Can you deal with summer for a while? We can work on the other seasons as we go along. Anyway, you're about due for R and R, aren't you?” Maureen nodded. “Save it for winter and go to Japan. It gets cold there in winter. That's my contribution for the day, ladies and gentlemen.”

“And we do thank you,” Luke muttered.

They drank beer and ate stale, soggy pretzels. Their dinner, when it arrived, was something that looked like pepper steak and rice. Luke said it wasn't pepper steak at all. No one, it seemed, knew exactly what it was, because it had no taste. Lily giggled.

The talk was easy, friendly. Casey felt as if she truly belonged somewhere for the first time in her life. Then Luke made a toast. She raised stunned eyes to the group when he said, “To the best O.R. nurse I ever worked with! Think I'll marry her someday!”

“Here! Here!” Brian Breen shouted, raising his glass. Casey flushed. Lily hugged her and Maureen winked slyly in her direction. God, she really belonged. It was a wonderful feeling. Of course, she knew Luke didn't mean it. He was just saying whatever came into his head. Luke Farrell was a loner. The Luke Farrells of the world didn't have time for things like marriage. But she did feel flattered.

They all went on about home for a while, but when the conversation came to Casey, she said, “I just got here. It's too soon for me to think about home. The truth is, I don't have a home to go back to.” She told them all about arriving in San Francisco. They listened intently. When she wound down, Brian said, “That's shitful! I come from Waco, Texas, and they're always looking for transplants. Think about it.” By the end of the evening she had offers from six other states.

When the clock on the wall said it was 10:45, Maureen decided to call it a night. So did Lily. Brian was asleep on the table and Sam was dancing by himself in the middle of the floor. Tomas had left earlier with a young nurse named Patty something-or-other. Casey looked at Luke, and Luke looked at her. “I know what you're going to ask me. You want me to tell you all about Vietnam, right?”

“How did you know?” Casey asked in awe.

“I can see it in your eyes. You wanted to ask before, but we were all caught up in the home thing, so you put it off. Right?”

“Are you a seer or something?”

“Or something. It took me five days before I started to ask about it. I'll pass on what I was told, howzat?”

“Only if you feel like talking about it,” Casey said quietly.

Luke tilted his chair back against the wall. He spoke in a low, even monotone. He's reciting a geography lesson the way I used to do in class, Casey thought. She listened, which was more than she did when the other students were reciting their lessons.

“We're on the Indochinese peninsula, bordered on the north by China, west by Laos and Cambodia, east and south by the Gulf of Thailand, the Gulf of Tonkin, and the South China Sea. North and south, I'd say, stretches it to about a thousand miles, east and west about three hundred thirty miles. In the north it's thick, mountainous jungle. The VC love it there. The climate is monsoonal with lots of floods. Here in the south it's flat, marshy, and muddy. Rice grows well in both the north and south. You're gonna get sick of rice. I'm to the point where I'd rather chew on grass than eat rice.”

“I'm pretty much a potato person myself.” Casey smiled.

“Forget it. No potatoes here. Lots of pepper though. Sweet potatoes, does that count?”

“Ohhh, I love sweet potatoes with lots of butter, pepper, and brown sugar. I could eat them every day.”

“Jesus, don't tell that to anyone or you will be,” Luke groused. “And you'll get a good case of Ho Chi Minh's revenge.” Casey flushed.

“How do you know all this?” Casey asked suspiciously, unsure if Luke was putting her on or not.

“Got it straight from a mama-san who helps out in the orphanage in Da Nang. Since it's her country, she should know, don't you agree?”

“I suppose so. Do many of the Vietnamese speak English?”

“The educated ones do, and French, of course. The nuns in the orphanage speak Vietnamese fluently. They translate for us. Onward and upward . . . the biggest cities in the south are, of course, Saigon, which is very modern, and Da Nang. I've been to them when I can get out of here, which isn't often.”

“Is it true that there are a lot of Roman Catholics here?”

“It's true. Taoism and Buddhism too, though everyone is so hell-bent on killing everyone else, it's hard to conceive the religion thing at all. What are you?” Luke asked curiously.

“Roman Catholic, and you?”

“I'm not anything right now. Someday I will be though,” Luke said curtly.

“I see,” Casey said.

“No you don't see at all. Jesus, I hate it when people patronize me. You don't understand how I cannot have a religion and maybe never have one. Since you think it, why don't you say it?” he snarled.

Casey bristled. It bothered her when this man who played second fiddle to God in the operating room could be so blase about something so important. She minced no words when she said so.

Luke blinked. “It never pays to argue about religion or politics. I was baptized a Lutheran, does that help?”

“Yes.” Casey smiled, “It helps a lot. Listen, thank you for the history lesson. You forgot something though.” She grinned.

“And what might that be?”

“You forgot to tell me about the money. Well, don't worry. I already know. It's the dong.”

“Dong, schlong, what the hell.” When he saw her blush, he knew she knew what the second word meant. “Sorry, that was uncalled for.”

“Accepted. I wasn't raised entirely in a convent,” she said, though actually, she had only learned the word in the past few days. She'd overheard some enlisted men using it. “Guess I'll see you tomorrow.”

“And the day after and the day after that,” Luke said morosely.

“Are you going to stay here?” Casey asked curiously as she prepared to leave.

“Yeah, I want to write a letter to a med school buddy of mine in Thailand. I've been trying to coerce him into coming here and helping out, but so far he's resisted my efforts. He's probably the best goddamn plastic surgeon in the world. If Singin Vinh were here today, he could have fixed that kid's face, the one we lost. If I'd been able to save him, Singin could have . . . ah, shit, what difference does it make now?”

He was writing the letter in his head, Casey saw. She ceased to exist for him, and that was all right. Whoever you are, Singin Vinh, she thought, I hope you reconsider and come here to help your friend. She walked out into the hot, sultry night.

“Good night, Casey,” Lily called from across the compound.

“Good night, Lily. Sleep tight, don't let the bedbugs bite.” She could hear Lily's soft laughter follow her.

Inside her stifling room, Casey lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Maybe she should write some letters herself. She could pen off a note to Mac and give it to one of the chopper pilots to deliver to the Red Cross unit in Vinh Long. It would probably go through three or four pilots before it reached Vinh Long, but if there was a way to get something through, be it supplies, wounded, or messages, the chopper pilots were the ones to trust. A letter to Nicole to ask for cotton underwear would go with the regular mail. She closed her eyes, merely to rest them and think about what she wanted to write to Mac, when she drifted off to sleep and didn't wake until the middle of the following morning.

“No wounded today,” Lily said in the mess tent.

“Really! That's wonderful. What will we do all day?”

“Scrub down the operating room, help on the medical floor, write letters for some of the men, read to others. Paperwork,” she said, making a face.

“Paperwork!” Casey said, aghast.

“Uh-huh. Loads of it.”

It was noon before the chief nurse called a halt to the morning's work schedule. The hospital was clean, the mounds of linen counted and neatly stacked, rounds were over, letters written for the wounded, along with small talk about things back home. It was all under control for the moment, Casey thought as she walked outside into the brilliant sunshine. The sky was a radiant blue, the clouds white and fluffy.

“It's all so quiet,” she murmured to Lily. “I don't hear any mortar fire or sniper fire. It's weird. What does it mean?”

“It means both sides are taking a temporary break, I guess. Enjoy the quiet. It won't last long. There's a pond not far from here if you want to go and enjoy the quiet for a while. It's a wonderful little place where you can sit on a blanket and read. I would imagine there are places like it where you come from. All we have to do is tell someone we're going, so they can guard us. It's one of the rules. Until now, we've been so busy I don't think anyone has explained to you that you cannot leave the compound without an escort. It will be nice to have some company today, if you feel like coming with me.”

“I'd love it. I have some letters to write. What's for lunch?”

Lily made a face. “Macaroni and cheese and Spam.”

“I
guess
I can eat that.” Casey grinned.

Lunch was a cacophony of chatter, laughter, the clatter of silverware and plates and shuffling feet, as well as some good-natured jostling which resulted in squeals and giggles from the Vietnamese women who were permitted to eat in the mess hall. Casey enjoyed the easy camaraderie.

She ate two bites of the macaroni and cheese and three of the Spam before she pushed her plate away to concentrate on her coffee, which was black as mud and just as thick.

“Mmm, Army coffee,” Luke Farrell said, holding his cup aloft. “It doesn't get any better than this,” he added dramatically.

“
Mon Dieu,
I hope not.” Casey laughed. When she felt her eyeballs were back to normal, she lit a cigarette. “This is something else I'll get used to, right?” Nobody bothered to answer her.

Luke leaned across the table. “Casey, if you were serious about helping me with the letters, I'd like to start after rounds this evening.” Sam looked at Lily. She nodded.

“Did any of you fix the shower?” Major Hagen asked. “Look, I want it done today. I will not have those chopper pilots circling overhead to look at my girls naked in the showers. You gave me your word!”

“It's not our job,” the doctors complained in unison. The major rose to her feet to tower over them. “We'll do it, we'll do it,” they grumbled good-naturedly. “When the sun goes down. Is that okay?”

“In writing, Doctor,” the major said, whipping a small pad and pencil out of her breast pocket. “And don't think for one minute that I don't know you cruds have been standing on the dispensary roof looking down into the shower. You're all damn lucky I haven't turned you in.”

“To who?” Luke grumbled. “Anyway, why would you want to do a damn thing like that, Maureen? You should be flattered that the three of you are so desirable. It's a goddamn compliment.”

“My ass, Captain! You're all perverts.” It was said good-naturedly, but there was a ring in the major's voice that told the men enough was enough. By dusk there would be some kind of roof over the shower enclosure, even if it was patched-together cardboard.

To her nurses Major Hagen said, “Free time till four o'clock. And don't, for God's sake, get sunburned. Casey, wear your boonie hat, but take your helmet with you. Remember, flak vests.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Casey said.

 

H
ER ROUTINE WAS
established. As the days wore on, Casey adapted easily to the rules and the routine. She was needed. She'd come here to do a job, and she was doing it to the best of her ability. She was helping save lives. She was making a difference. It no longer mattered that she worked fourteen-hour shifts, slept little and ate less. The blood and the chart by the door were now a part of her life.

April Fool's Day was her one-month anniversary in Vietnam. When she checked off the date on her calendar, she winced. A whole month and there had been no word from Mac. He's never going to find me, she thought sourly.

Several things happened on Fool's Day, as Lily referred to it. A C-130 landed with four nurses aboard. Casey no sooner finished clapping her hands with delight than Maureen Hagen handed her a manila envelope and told her she had ten minutes to pack her gear and board the C-130 with Lily and Luke.

“You're going to Pleiku. A new MASH unit is coming in-country. You'll be working out of tents, supporting the Fourth Division. The Air Force is already there. It's my understanding there will be six nurses in all, six or seven doctors, and a few med techs. This is paradise compared to where you're going. Good luck!”