EIGHT
Oct. 3rd: 0500 hours
Dear Dad,
Normally, I'm not stirring this time of day. However, Charles managed to wake me as he came into the Swamp, rummaged through his footlocker and left again. He just finished his six hour post-op shift. Now, I suspect he's off to visit our new nurse.
That was our one bright spot, yesterday. An Australian troop truck came into camp. Riding in the back of the vehicle, with the soldiers, was a young woman. The very first thing I noticed was her hair. Such an unusual color! It reminded me of a new penny with its mixture of reds and golds.
From her uniform and insignia, it was obvious that she was an American nurse.
She had grease smeared across her forehead and lacerations on her face, neck and arm. She was covered with blood---both from her own injuries and from the wounded men.
As we were unloading the wounded, she asked for Charles Winchester's help in climbing down. Since she had injured her ankle, he had to help her walk to the hospital. I would have liked to have that job, myself. However, we had wounded to tend to, so...
While in pre-op, I could see the freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks beneath the grime. I never thought freckles were all that appealing until I saw them on Sarabeth.
That's her name: Sarabeth MacAllister. She proudly hails from a small town in Texas called Big Oak. I wish you could hear her speak. She takes a one syllable word and stretches it into a four or five syllable word. Her voice is pleasing to the ear. My ears, especially.
She's is a very good nurse, too. Not only did she prepare three severely injured men for surgery, while working from the back of a fast moving truck, but she was in enemy territory, at the time, as well.
I look forward to getting to know her better. Having her around for one day has already made this place more bearable.
Speaking of making this place more bearable, I'm still trying to think of some thing to cheer up B J---my best friend in the whole world. His daughter, Erin, is growing so fast. And he hates missing all of the important times in her life. Every time he gets a letter from Peg, telling him that the car needed to be worked on, or that the gutters needed cleaning, he agonizes over not being there for her. And for Erin.
Maybe the Halloween costume party BJ and I are planning will help. We're also hoping to have some competing activities between our outfit and the 8063rd. Things like: water glove tossing; bobbing for nurses; a doctor's kissing booth. It should be fun...if all the well-armed forces around here will lay down their arms for a few hours.
Unfortunately, in this insane asylum called Korea, the injured men, women and children always keep coming...and coming. At all times of the day and night, they are brought in: by helicopter, by ambulance, by truck, by jeep, even by ox cart. And they never stop coming.
Have I mentioned lately how much I hate this place?
Keep writing to me every chance you get, Dad. Your letters about the happenings around Crabapple Cove help even more than you'll ever know.
Your son,
Hawkeye