WRAPPING IT UP, PART 1 I began doing the Vietnam Wife section for my husband Garry for a few reasons: To make this whole webpage well-rounded, to include wives who may find some closure, to enlighten some vets who may not know how it was for their loved ones, and in the hope that younger folks may read this and understand that things are not always as recorded in books and on television. We were real people with real feelings. And now, how does one write an ending to something that will always continue to have an influence on one’s life? We left for Fort Hood, just outside Killeen, Texas, in mid-January, 1971, to serve the last eight months of our Army time, leaving behind a ton of snow. We had no place in which to store things at either of our parents’ homes so, to my great regret, we destroyed all the letters Garry had written me during the Vietnam year, both to keep my snoopy sisters out of them and because I wanted to put it all behind us. Oh, if I could go back in time long enough to save those! We had few belongings and those were stashed in the trunk and in a car topper, with the baby crib and ironing board tied on top of that. In good faith, we had cut the legs off Laurie’s bassinet so that she would have a comfortable place to sleep…this was rather futile and a huge joke since she never slept but cried every inch of the way between Michigan and Texas. I’d had her on formula of canned Carnation milk and Karo syrup but with no way to prepare that on the road, we decided to switch her over to whole milk, which we were able to keep plenty cold in the car topper until we got further south. May I suggest you don’t change your baby’s diet while on a long road trip? There is some question to this day as to how much of our sanity was left by the time we reached our destination. After leaving in the early morning and taking the long way around because Garry’s dad said we just had to see Memphis, Tennessee (they were building a new freeway so that we had to bypass it, anyway), we stopped at a motel just west of Little Rock. Garry wasn’t feeling too well, which I figured just might be due to all the driving with the accompaniment of a crying baby. Well, Laurie managed to get to sleep but I sure didn’t for very long as Garry began thrashing and mumbling. Upon finding that he was literally burning up, sweating, and not understanding anything I said, I got rather afraid, sitting up all night to sponge him and wait for daylight to decide what to do. To my great relief, he awoke in the morning with no fever and no memory of having had one. Driving through Arkansas and unable to find anyplace decent to eat, we stopped at a very questionable looking roadside BBQ stand and each ate a very questionable looking sandwich. Within a short time, Garry started weaving the car, pulled over to the side, and I discovered that he was sweating, delirious, and feverish once again. Have I mentioned that I didn’t know how to drive a car with a standard transmission? Well, that’s what our lavender 1966 Plymouth Belvedere had--naturally. We had just passed a sign saying we were about to enter a small town called Hope (no lie! Don’t recall seeing Bill, though), so I put crying Laurie in the bed, managed to get Garry pushed to the other side where he slumped against the door, and lurched us into town, stalling the car several times. Praise the Lord there was a hospital on the same road we were, where I pulled into the E.R. entrance and honked the horn, not even needing to stop the car because it just quit. This was a Sunday and I don’t believe anyone used to live in Arkansas on Sunday; certainly, there didn’t seem to be anyone in the hospital! I grabbed Laurie, ran into this tiny emergency room, and could not locate one single soul until I began screaming, "Help!", at which time a doctor slowly meandered out of somewhere. At least, I think he was a doctor but you couldn’t prove it by me. I earnestly began telling him that my husband was out
in the car and had malaria, which seemed to cause him to wonder if I was
either a drunk or an addict. (You see, Garry was supposed to take malaria
pills for two weeks after returning from Nam but didn’t do so We made it down to Fort Hood around 5 P.M. Monday and
pulled into the Army guest house,
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because
they caused him to have back door trots, which he didn’t like…the
jerk! I’d been worried about this from the start.) We managed to get my
hubby inside and onto an examining table, where this man proceeded to take
his temperature, pulse and blood pressure and then announce to me that he
had a fever. I knew he had a fever!! With no other tests at all, he said
it was food poisoning, but why the fever the night before and why wasn’t
I sick after eating the exact same things? He wouldn’t budge on his
opinion, though, and I jerked the car on down to a crummy motel he pointed
out and, doggone, Garry was fine again the next morning. It just didn’t
make sense.
having
no idea on this earth where we were going to live. Because we were only
allowed to stay there for three consecutive days, searching for a domicile
was our #1 priority. No luck until Day 3 when we decided to inquire at the
post nursery and a wonderful woman took pity on us. She and her husband, a
retired NCO lifer, had a very small house they rented out, but the problem
was the last folks had trashed it. They had not had a chance to get it
fixed up but agreed to rent it to us for only $20 for the first month if I
would clean it up. No problem! It consisted of a kitchen, a bedroom, and a
bathroom (I won’t even bother to mention that the toilet didn’t work),
and was filthy, but we were in no position to be choosy. We were entirely
moved within a half hour.
Whew.
Things were looking pretty good for the moment. We were completely broke
since it was past time for payday - one got paid once a month in the Army
at that time - and Garry had to report to his unit to get his check. In he
went the following day while I excitedly began my first day of being a
wife, mother and housekeeper in my own home, even though we’d been
married for nearly a year and a half. I took care of the baby, scrubbed
and scoured the house, made supper and waited for my husband to come home
from work…just like a real family! I waited. It was so thrilling. I
waited. This was the way I’d always wanted my life to be. I waited. It
was so strange to have the door open and only the screen door latched in
January, but we were in Texas! I waited some more. Our car pulled in (but
Garry was not driving it), followed by an official Army car. Two uniformed
men came to the door and informed me that my husband was in Darnell Army
Hospital with severe falciparum malaria.