Seeking Sanctuary

By Stephen Brodowski

This true,(R) rated story is full of Action, Adventure, Comedy, Horror, skin-crawling Suspense, and Secrets, finally revealed by a Surgical Technician who was there, in Vietnam, aboard a busy Hospital Ship, Subic Bay, Philippines, and Bangkok,Thailand 1968-1969. Twenty riveting episodes that may take your breath. Have a trash can nearby, a towel, and drinking water. You have been warned! Can you take it? Only tough, experienced, Medical ER personnel should pick this book up.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stephen Brodowski
• Release date: Sep 24, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386543459

Book preview

First Day in Viet Nam

Culture shock! Lots of people dressed in black pajamas just sitting around on the concrete. Many women in black pajamas and black teeth. Women sitting on the cold concrete, holding babies; sniffing their cheeks. The babies seemed to like the attention. So many people with black teeth and fat cigarettes that looked like leftover celery wrapped in saran wrap. How did that wet looking herbal concoction stay burning for very long? Whaats with the black teeth?

I was in my Navy Uniform, whites. My white sailor hat shown like a beacon, a stark contrast to this large group of people wearing black pajamas. My uniform announced who I was to this part of the world.

Location: Danang, Vietnam; a Seaport

I decided to postpone any judgement until seeing more of the country. Oh, that peculiar smell in the air was ‘Agent Orange’ plus aviation fuel.

Air America picked me up on the island of Okinawa where I had been waiting about 8 hours, and took me to a hot and sunny, Danang. I was drawing Combat Pay but I kept wondering when I would be issued a rifle and ammo belt or at least a 45 and holster, maybe a grenade launcher.

There was absolutely no information either written or spoken. It was like you were supposed to know, like you had been here in this amazing place before. There was a market stall here and there covered over with tarps or dingy sheets with more up the road. A friendly bus driver motioned for me to come with him. He was dressed better than most people in the airport setting. Two men dressed as Marines with rifles and ammo also got on the bus. That gave me a little bit of comfort. That feeling soon faded. Off we went to a location I could not pronounce. Camp Tien Sha. Two minutes into a 10-minute ride I heard a ding noise, followed by an explosion that sounded like a rifle aiming directly at me, about 100 feet away! The bullet hit first, followed by the telltale sound of the gunpowder exploding out of the gun barrel!

Ding BAM! Ding Bam! Ding BAM! Ding Bam!

The Marines up front, bit the dirty floor with their mouths over and over, like a very hungry woodpecker. Very Strange Behavior....

I had a feeling GOD was not done with me yet!

I was on my knees in the aisle trying to hide my white hat and my body from being a clear target and begged the young Marine at the front of the bus to give me his rifle. I was determined to return fire in the direction of the popping. The only thing I had was two shoes to throw at the man with the gun. I wanted to do some shooting back at the hidden enemy with all my energy. Strangely, the bus driver crammed on the brakes, flung the bus door open, jumped out and started yelling at the shooter hiding between stalls in the marketplace. Later that year a local Missionary who came aboard the Sanctuary told me that the bus owner was explaining to the person shooting at us that he owned the bus and was very unhappy with fresh bullet holes in his prized vehicle. The Marines could not answer me or explain what happened; seemed preoccupied and focused on

Looking straight ahead. Frozen in Time!

Finally, after 10 minutes (seemed like an hour), we arrived at Camp Tien Sha.

I told my story to the man behind the desk and told him I was anxious to get my weapon issued to me. He just laughed and said, This is a peaceful place! You do not need a weapon!

WHAT? ....

Sir, I was just shot at as we drove through the marketplace in the bus.

He only looked at me incredulously and said I had my choice of bunks in Quonset Hut Barracks #1. I asked about a rifle again. He frowned and said something about my mother which I did not want to understand. What did my mother have to do with anything? Was he angry with me about something?

Every person in Military Uniform had a pistol or rifle.

Where do I get one? I asked everyone. No one gave me any information. I finally decided this was just a bad dream and I would wake up soon.

When my nerves finally settled down a little, I decided to wash off about 4 days of traveling dirt and dust. If I was going to die, then I wanted to be ushered out smelling nice and clean. Nobody knew where the shower was located so I took a walk. After wandering about for 10 minutes, I discovered 3 dirty bunkers. 10 steps past there I took a left turn and discovered a large shower room with about 4 heads on one side and 3 on the other. There was no place to set my clothes, no washing machine, no nothing, so I found a dry spot and set my things there. A Vietnamese woman with black teeth sat down in the raised doorway of the shower, looked at me with despising disinterest and muttered something I could not understand. I did not know the customs, did not know what her function was and wanted a shower. She sat there the whole time and watched my every move. This was my first time taking a shower in front of a woman. But, it was nice to have a bath in the battlefield. It sounded like some gun shots off in the distance. I was told by other men in the barracks that Marines shoot around the clock to keep the enemy guessing.

The Marine snipers on the hill overlooking the Danang Harbor, waited for the Viet Cong to light up a cigarette at night and then shot at them. Conclusion: Smoking is hazardous to your health. So, ended day one.

Day two came. Another piece of the puzzle fell into place. The man behind the desk told me that Hospital Ship Sanctuary was in Hong Kong and would be here in 5 days to take me aboard.

I was interested in doing something besides reading and resting in the barracks. Taking a tour of the city was very low priority after my nearly fatal bus ride to this way station for troops coming and going. Dumpsters normally had no appeal to my nature. I tried to put on a sophisticated air. It was difficult to look at so many weapons of so many different types, colors and destructive power unceremoniously tossed into an overflowing trash bin. One day these items were nearly sacred to someone and the day of leaving the country they were just all of a sudden trash. Fabulous collection; to whom would it go? Would all these weapons and dirty military gear be melted down? Would the remainder be burned or cleaned and repaired? That was the main question of the day in my mind.

I tried to steer clear of the man in the office because I valued my ears and could easily do without the scorn. Nothing could have been removed from the big box of weapons, Lord only knew if they worked or were defective. I was told to keep my distance from the contents. But I only wanted a rifle, complete with ammo and a few grenades. In the mixture of military stuff in the dumpster was an occasional walkie talkie. Oh my, I had a good look inside. Here I am, ready for a fight to the death and all those weapons with nobody to carry them. I was forbidden to take any protection or be offensive to the Viet Cong also called GOOKS. A day later I was told that the dumpster was taken away to be dumped by the local people.

Lord only knows what became of all that hardware and technology not to mention the box or two of grenades. What if that fell into the wrong hands?

In the voices of the troops I spoke briefly with, one could hear the angry hatred flowing from their persona like a stinky-sweat.  Cowboys, (Soldiers who felt excessively important by strapping on a weapon) on the other hand, swaggered and strutted like they had more chutzpah than John Wayne. Those guys had one destination and one purpose in life and that was to consume the most beer as possible before the next sortie/assignment. They talked of killing water buffalo and watching the children tending animals, cry over the fact. I saw broken hearts, broken minds, broken land ......  Where and what was the purpose of our military presence here in Nam?

Why did the Cong want this land?

Who sent them and was their heart in the fight? Why was I here? That question was the only easy one to answer. I was trained/worked in a Hospital beginning at the age of 16. I loved all things medical. In 1961 a small hospital in Orange Park, Florida had just 12 beds; one combination Operating Room and Delivery Room, where babies were welcomed into the world, an X-Ray Room and small Lab. I talked with Dr. Marcus Bernard Berg about working after school doing whatever needed to be done. Interesting accidents kept the Emergency Room busy.

Something told me that my early training would come in real handy somewhere in the future. I learned how to put tubes into every orifice, take blood from an artery or vein and do all kinds of tests in the lab. I really enjoyed taking a drop of blood, smearing it on a slide, staining it and then counting 100 white cells. This was called a Differential White Blood Cell Count. The electronic testing equipment was amazing in all the things it did. I had some practice doing diagnosis because the Doctors would ask me what I thought was the diagnosis. When a patient had a huge file already then I wisely declined to make a guess. The Doctors