Credit of flag is to POW/MIA site
Song is: "The Wanderer" from Vietnam Jukebox Medical Discharge Notification I had gone on an USO picnic in Philadelphia in July, 1968. I was having fun even though I was bandaged up from my finger tips to my shoulder after having surgery to try to reconnect my severed nerves. I know that I shouldn’t have been running down but forgot for a brief time as I ran down a hill. It was a bright sunny day that I remembered. As I was running down the hill, I forgot that I would have to be careful at the bottom. I miscalculated my steps and hit the bottom where it leveled out with my weaker left leg. (I had been wounded down my left side with scrapnel resulting in having had a drain put in it.) Needless to say, it gave out on me and I fell causing me to try to protect my left arm by throwing it out and up. In doing so I felt a tearing sensation in my left elbow area (where I found out later that they had opened it up expecting to find the nerve damage there since I had taken a lot of scrapnel in the area. It was in the left wrist that the nerve damage was traced to.) I didn’t see any blood so decided to wait until Monday morning to report to sick call. On Monday morning, I reported to sick call with my concerns over the incident. As I was going in to see the Doctor, a young marine was coming out. The Medical Doctor told me to shut the door as I was coming in. His next words after I closed blew my mind. He asked me “Do you see that young marine as you were coming in?” I replied “yes, Sir, I had noticed him.” He then told me “If he would only try half as hard as you’ve been doing, he would regain the full use of his hand. But, in your case, you won’t regain the full use of your hand. You’re going to be medically discharged from the service. Do you want to stay here pending discharge or do you want to go home awaiting discharge?” I felt like my whole world blew up in my face since I had plans on being career minded Navy. (Had made up my mind about going on to college while in Navy to get RN through College of Illinois.) I told him “With due respect Sir, if the Navy has no further use for me then I have no further use for the Navy. I’ll go home instead.” (I was devastated thinking that this is what they’re going to do with me now?) All of this took place while he was changing the dressing and inspecting the area after hearing what happened the day before. As I was making my way back to the barracks, ole McPherson and Mitchell came running up starting in their Long time, short timer routine. However, before they could get started, I busted their balloon by saying: “While you two long timers are still being messed over by the service, this short timer will be home messing around.” I had to show them my orders for medical discharge before they would believe me. Ole McPherson had orders to join the Marines at Camp LeJeune while Mitchell had orders for the Mediterranean Fleet. Talk about being upset! Neither one had what they wanted either. McPherson had what Mitchell wanted, Mitchell had what I wanted and I had what McPherson wanted. I told them both what they could do with my million dollar wound. I was career minded not some wannabe civilian in service uniform. I don’t remember saying goodbye to them the next day. I was so angry/hurt that I didn’t even say goodbye to Lieutenant Commander Rosenquist.(Per James Mcpherson, years later Sept. 1, 200: Also Miss Rosenquist was a full Commander by the time I got to Phila. I remember her first name was Hildigard. I have tried to find her in the phone books that are on the web without success.) To this day I regret that and would like someday to let them know that I survived. I had gone home and went to stay with my Grandparents in West Virginia (Crazy thoughts were running through my mind, like: "If I'm no longer any good for the Navy, What good am I to anyone? I'd be better off dead, cause I can't stand the pitying looks I was receiving from friends and family.") I had intended on going back to my home state and ending it all. However, my grandfather brought me out of this pit of depression and helped me to see that things worked out for the better, etc. I lost all heart for hunting the day that he asked me to go after all these years of not asking. Guess he decided that I was finally worth asking. Of course, the senses that I developed in combat took over and scared the living daylights out of me. Never did care for hunting after that except if I had to hunt in order to eat. This page hosted by Get your own Free Home Page
Song is: "The Wanderer" from Vietnam Jukebox
Medical Discharge Notification
I had gone on an USO picnic in Philadelphia in July, 1968. I was having fun even though I was bandaged up from my finger tips to my shoulder after having surgery to try to reconnect my severed nerves. I know that I shouldn’t have been running down but forgot for a brief time as I ran down a hill. It was a bright sunny day that I remembered.
As I was running down the hill, I forgot that I would have to be careful at the bottom. I miscalculated my steps and hit the bottom where it leveled out with my weaker left leg. (I had been wounded down my left side with scrapnel resulting in having had a drain put in it.)
Needless to say, it gave out on me and I fell causing me to try to protect my left arm by throwing it out and up. In doing so I felt a tearing sensation in my left elbow area (where I found out later that they had opened it up expecting to find the nerve damage there since I had taken a lot of scrapnel in the area. It was in the left wrist that the nerve damage was traced to.) I didn’t see any blood so decided to wait until Monday morning to report to sick call.
On Monday morning, I reported to sick call with my concerns over the incident. As I was going in to see the Doctor, a young marine was coming out. The Medical Doctor told me to shut the door as I was coming in. His next words after I closed blew my mind. He asked me “Do you see that young marine as you were coming in?” I replied “yes, Sir, I had noticed him.” He then told me “If he would only try half as hard as you’ve been doing, he would regain the full use of his hand. But, in your case, you won’t regain the full use of your hand. You’re going to be medically discharged from the service. Do you want to stay here pending discharge or do you want to go home awaiting discharge?”
I felt like my whole world blew up in my face since I had plans on being career minded Navy. (Had made up my mind about going on to college while in Navy to get RN through College of Illinois.) I told him “With due respect Sir, if the Navy has no further use for me then I have no further use for the Navy. I’ll go home instead.” (I was devastated thinking that this is what they’re going to do with me now?) All of this took place while he was changing the dressing and inspecting the area after hearing what happened the day before.
As I was making my way back to the barracks, ole McPherson and Mitchell came running up starting in their Long time, short timer routine. However, before they could get started, I busted their balloon by saying: “While you two long timers are still being messed over by the service, this short timer will be home messing around.” I had to show them my orders for medical discharge before they would believe me.
Ole McPherson had orders to join the Marines at Camp LeJeune while Mitchell had orders for the Mediterranean Fleet. Talk about being upset! Neither one had what they wanted either. McPherson had what Mitchell wanted, Mitchell had what I wanted and I had what McPherson wanted. I told them both what they could do with my million dollar wound. I was career minded not some wannabe civilian in service uniform.
I don’t remember saying goodbye to them the next day. I was so angry/hurt that I didn’t even say goodbye to Lieutenant Commander Rosenquist.(Per James Mcpherson, years later Sept. 1, 200: Also Miss Rosenquist was a full Commander by the time I got to Phila. I remember her first name was Hildigard. I have tried to find her in the phone books that are on the web without success.) To this day I regret that and would like someday to let them know that I survived.
I had gone home and went to stay with my Grandparents in West Virginia (Crazy thoughts were running through my mind, like: "If I'm no longer any good for the Navy, What good am I to anyone? I'd be better off dead, cause I can't stand the pitying looks I was receiving from friends and family.") I had intended on going back to my home state and ending it all. However, my grandfather brought me out of this pit of depression and helped me to see that things worked out for the better, etc.
I lost all heart for hunting the day that he asked me to go after all these years of not asking. Guess he decided that I was finally worth asking. Of course, the senses that I developed in combat took over and scared the living daylights out of me. Never did care for hunting after that except if I had to hunt in order to eat.
