An Evacuation Hospital in Vietnam: A Former Conscientious Objector Remembers

By Edward Wells

Years later, I saw a picture of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Wall on television; there was Moes name. I had met his parents and brother when they came to visit him during basic training. It occurred to me that if I hadnt helped him so much, he might have been discharged and sent home to his family. I had a great uncle who had been discharged during World War I for a similar reason. Lord Jesus, take care of Moe until I get there.

It was then that I understood why I could never be a conscientious objector again. If I had been with Moe, I would have fought, I would have hit, I would have stabbed, I would have shot, I would have killed to protect him. I would have protected him the way Bailey protected me from Shorty. It was no longer a question of whether I preferred to kill another human or not; the question was who was I willing to let get injured or killed when I could protect them? Would I just stand by and watch? When it was worded that way, the answer was clear. The best rationale for going off to war in other countries is to keep war away from our country where our families and loved ones are. That was how those soldiers could sacrifice their lives overseas. As Jesus said, Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends (John 15:13, KJV). How much love do I have?

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Jul 29, 2015
• ISBN: 9781490891286

Edward Wells

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Copyright © 2015 Edward Wells.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

SCRIPTURE QUOTATIONS MARKED KJV ARE TAKEN FROM THE HOLY BIBLE, KING JAMES VERSION. (The KJV is public domain in the United States.)

SCRIPTURE QUOTATIONS MARKED CEB ARE TAKEN FROM THE HOLY BIBLE, COMMON ENGLISH BIBLE. (The CEB text may be quoted in any form (written, visual, electronic, or audio), up to and inclusive of five hundred (500) verses without express written permission of the publisher, providing the verses do not amount to a complete book of the Bible nor do the verses quoted account for twenty-five percent (25%) or more of the total text of the work in which they are quoted.)

SCRIPTURE QUOTATIONS MARKED NOG ARE TAKEN FROM THE NAMES OF GOD BIBLE. (Scripture is taken from GOD’S WORD®, © 1995 God’s Word to the Nations. Used by permission of Baker Publishing Group.)

This book is a work of non-fiction. Unless otherwise noted, the author and the publisher make no explicit guarantees as to the accuracy of the information contained in this book and in some cases, names of people and places have been altered to protect their privacy.

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ISBN: 978-1-4908-9127-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-9129-3 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-9128-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015911030

WestBow Press rev. date: 07/27/2015

Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1    Pre-induction

Chapter 2    Induction

Chapter 3    Medical Training

Chapter 4    First Assignment

Chapter 5    Home Again

Chapter 6    Big Boat Ride

Chapter 7    Building The Hospital

Chapter 8    Running The Hospital

Chapter 9    Heading Home

Chapter 10    Evacuation Hospital Reunion

Chapter 11    Where Do We Go From Here?

Appendix

Endnotes

Introduction

I attended a reunion of the evacuation hospital I was stationed at in Vietnam within the past year. I started reflecting on my experiences there. It was therapeutic to look at the events before my assignment in Vietnam that influenced the person I was in Vietnam. It was insightful to realize how those experiences in Vietnam influenced my life since then, usually in a very positive way. Overall, Vietnam was a positive influence in my life.

One critic of my pre-published manuscript stated that the book should have been written in chronological order, not organized by topic. Welcome to reality. I believe that evacuation hospital represents how our lives are lived and how the Divine purpose in our lives is played out on a daily basis. My book meanders because my life does. I suppose that’s another way of saying that concrete sequential thinkers will have trouble finishing my book. Well, you win some and you lose some.

If books, movies, and TV shows that used a flashback technique were banned, it would be a great loss. Another book not written in chronological order is the Bible. If some find that news distressing, they can search the Internet for Bible chronological order and find lists of the Old and New Testaments in chronological order. I wrote this book because it’s a great way to know my relationship to my Heavenly Father. As someone else famously suggested, if you don’t like my book, write your own. What is the meaning of your life and where is it headed? What will you leave behind when you are gone?

CHAPTER 1

Pre-induction

I had a spiritual experience with Jesus when I was sixteen years old, after I planned my suicide. ¹ I didn’t change my mind about suicide as much as I forgot about it in the sudden realization that Jesus was really alive and really loved me. I began reading the New Testament feverishly, because I wanted to know everything Jesus said. In the Bible I was reading, Jesus’ words were in red. I read the Gospels over and over, looking for those red words. I overheard my mother telling my aunt Dodi she was worried about me, because all I did at that time was read the Bible. My aunt, who did not attend church regularly, said she thought I was a real Christian. I overheard my mother talking to her sisters about me so many times over the years, I wondered if I was supposed to hear them. I don’t really think so, but they sure underestimated my hearing.

When I was severely depressed before my Jesus experience, I heard my mother ask my aunt Nelly if she and my father should get professional counseling for me. When I was six, I rode with Nelly and Uncle John on a three-hundred-mile car trip, and I didn’t say a word during the five hours. I didn’t hear Nelly’s reply to my mother about my depression, but she probably said something to the effect that I was always different.

During the eleventh grade, my depression got worse. No one confronted me except a school counselor; she was sure eyeglasses would cure what ailed me. I had long forsaken all hobbies and interests. I had always taken advanced courses, but I got failing notices in the eleventh grade. Someone who knew me from church walked up to me at school and said, You look like a lost soul.

I replied, That’s a pretty good description.

Growing up, I had nitro methane-burning miniature engines in little cars, airplanes, and boats. My real love, however, was electronics. When my father told me I could buy whatever electronics equipment I wanted (an obvious attempt to pull me out of my depression), I declined. He then told me he was unhappy too. Years later, he shot himself in the arm with the same pistol I was going to use on myself. His injury wasn’t serious, but we all believed he was seriously depressed.

My favorite mother-aunt conversation was when I was in the second grade and lying in a vacant lot. My first-grade teacher evidently got her teaching credentials from Don’t-Smile-Until-December Teachers’ University. I remember her saying one time, If anyone talks, everyone will stay after school. Of course, someone whispered to a friend about what the teacher said. My older brother waited after school for me to be released and asked me what I had done wrong. Wrong place, wrong time, I thought. I remember thinking I had enough of being at the mercy of an unreasonable person.

At the start of the second grade, I walked to school with my Goody-Two-Shoes older brother. He would cross the street to enter the school building, and I would stay on the other side of the street and run back home. Of course, I couldn’t actually go home, or my mother would get a switch off a tree and use it on me the half mile to school. I ran back and lay in the vacant lot behind my house. I loved Indians and had an Indian outfit I would wear occasionally. I was commending myself on being as stealthy as an Indian when I heard Aunt Jenny ask my mother, Isn’t that Eddie lying in the vacant lot?

I dropped out of kindergarten, because I was forced to be in a play. Shy people don’t like being in plays.² One day, my mother had the neighbor across the street drive me the eight blocks to kindergarten to make sure I got there. He had a Model A, so it was a fun ride. He stopped in front of our house to inform my mother I had gotten there. My mother frowned as I peered around her skirt so he could see I had outrun his Model A.

I started attending school in second grade, after my mother used a switch to convince me how important an education was. I discovered my second-grade teacher was nothing like my first-grade teacher. What a difference a teacher makes! School was bearable after that. Still, no one could pull me out of my shyness until my sixth-grade teacher. She asked me to bring a radio I had built to show-and-tell, so other students could learn what I learned outside of school.

My family regularly attended a traditional denominational church. My father was the junior deacon, and the four boys served as acolytes; I was in the children’s choir. My parents took pride in being one of the founding families of that church.

When people say I obviously wasn’t serious about suicide (because I didn’t follow through with it), I respond that when I decided to commit suicide, I knew the day and time (the following Sunday after church, while my family was sitting down to eat lunch), the method (my father’s semi-automatic pistol, which I had fired and cleaned before under his supervision), and the place (my parents’ bedroom, where he kept the pistol in their chest of drawers). I was going to close my eyes and fire a bullet into the side of my head. After making the decision to commit suicide, I felt a distinct sense of peace. I felt if I didn’t commit suicide, that sense of peace would go away. If Jesus hadn’t intervened, I wouldn’t be here.

As a school counselor years later, I knew students who decided those details about committing suicide were serious, although I took all suicide ideation seriously. I learned from my experience that when someone asks a severely depressed person what is wrong, the answer is usually Everything or Nothing. Everything is messed up, and nothing is worth living for. Ask that person if he or she is serious and the answer will probably be no. If the individual indicated suicidal thoughts, he or she will likely say it was just a joke when confronted. That usually means either the person was joking or doesn’t want to be stopped from committing suicide. Seriously depressed people and those expressing any suicide ideation should be confronted about it in a direct manner. This is no time for wishful thinking, or what I call the Challenger syndrome, which basically is, It hasn’t happened yet.

The space shuttle Challenger exploded on January 28, 1986. Although problems with an O-ring in relationship to cold temperatures were known, the decision was made to go ahead with the launch, because it had not exploded before. The problem with that logic is that there is no backup plan or recovery in the event of disaster. Several engineers re-expressed their concerns about the effect of low temperatures on the resilience of the rubber O-rings, which sealed the joints of the solid rocket boosters, and recommended a launch postponement. They argued there was not enough data to determine whether the joints would properly seal if the O-rings were colder than 53°F.

One of the criticisms of those who claim a personal relationship with Jesus is that they take particular verses in the Bible literally, which, I maintain, is how a verse should be taken. What critics really mean is that a verse is taken out of context. For example, I have heard sermons preached on verses from the book of Job. If those verses were spoken by Eliphaz, Zophar, or Bildad, putting weight on them is like stepping on a floor constructed of toothpicks. God said to Eliphaz,

And it was so, that after the Lord had spoken