THE DUTY CREW

“Here come the fire truck and the ambulances.” Potska pointed to his left. The road system within the hospital grounds was extensive. They connected with the outside world via three gates through the surrounding cyclone barbed-wire fencing. The vehicles entered from the left traveling on the hospital road in front of the main building and passing behind the Lindsey Boulevard main hospital entrance. They would continue on after picking up the train patients to follow the road from the depot around F-2 and the back of the hospital. The retinue would then enter Guam Way Road and go directly to the ER where the patients would be triaged, examined and sent to their appropriate specialty wards. From the main gate to the train station the road was named Inchon Street. All roadways throughout the hospital complex had names reflecting battle sites from past wars. No doubt Vietnam would leave its identity on one or two of the newer streets leading to the heliport and the new Post Exchange.

The fire truck was always present in the event of an unexpected mishap. Such conflagrations were now purely historical and stemmed from World War II and Korean receiving hospitals being close to battle sites where occasionally fires were ignited from inadequately maintained transportation vehicles. Now throughout the entire military a fire code existed that made such vehicles a mandatory presence.

It was an unusual reception scene. The Navy fire truck flashed its red lights rotating atop the right and left corners of the cab. A single red light was flashing from a short post at the top rear of the fire truck’s square end. This fire fighting apparatus functioned as just a large square water tank with the usual white canvas-covered rubber hoses and several ladders attached to the sides and top of the vehicle. Three gray Pontiac ambulances had their respective red dome roof lights flashing. The train depot’s speaker system was playing a non-religious Christmas Song.             

We wish you a Merry Christmas,

We wish you a Merry Christmas,

We wish you a Merry Christmas,

And a Happy New Year!

The tune seemed to be like a stuck record, which kept repeating itself although the record or tape was not stuck. The train crept into the lean-to reception area which comprised the body of the train station building. Ropes of holly with bright red berries wound around the upright posts of the receiving area. Fireproof Styrofoam bells were also draped in seasonal greeting. The administrative personnel waiting for the train to stop included Norton, Potska and four of his Marine MPs. Zettler was the leader of the medical team as JNOOD. The three corpsmen and three nurses knew their jobs. They did this at least 5-times a week.

Zettler looked at the corpsmen blowing steam from their mouths into the cold Christmas morning. They looked to be in top physical shape. Her opinion was driven by their poise and air of confidence. Zettler’s team was wearing Navy pea coats, scarves and black leather gloves. They carried themselves like able-bodied seamen. The Vietnam returnees will be getting a warm pleasant welcome with promise of warmth and comfort after examination in the ER. She looked at her plain Timex watch with the staccato minute sweep hand moving in no particular hurry. It was 0940 hours.