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These stories are true, but the names may be The military takes a very dim view of anyone damaging its property. For those unfortunate enough to be caught damaging Army property, the punishment can be severe. After I'd been in Pleiku for a couple of months the swimming pool was opened, late in August. It was one of the luxuries we enjoyed. I've heard rumors that it was a gift from a grateful contractor for us saving one of his employees, but don't know the true story. Whoever built it did us a huge favor, as it was about the only nice pool in the Central Highlands. Not being shy about taking advantage of every situation, the hospital personnel, knowing a good thing when they saw it, flocked to the pool whenever possible. It became the center of social activity during the time it was open. The OR personnel had been anxiously awaiting the pool opening and had planned a big party for that day, with burgers, steaks, hot dogs, beer, soft drinks and all the trimmings. As soon as the pool opened, most of the off-duty personnel were ready to go. Having been deprived of the pool for almost 6 months, everyone was ready to go swimmin'! After just horsing around for awhile, we decided to have a water polo game. It was great fun and everybody got in the action. There were only a few near-drownings, but we took it all in stride. The pool opened at about 11AM and we frolicked in the water and ate, then got back in the water to have more fun. Just a bunch of big kids having a good time, it was great! At about 6PM, those of us who had duty that night decided we should probably start getting ready. There were a lot of very pink bodies and some VERY red bodies trooping out of the pool area back to our hootch to get ready for work. Sunburn is kind of a tricky thing...it creeps up on you, increasing in intensity for about two days, then it begins to resolve and you start to get better. We were all in the intensification phase...BIG TIME! As we got dressed to go on duty, I noticed that my shoulders were a deep, angry red and were pretty tender. In fact, they hurt like fire! Figuring that it would be okay, I headed in to work. (Note: Please re-read the first paragraph of this story, keeping in mind that my body was official Army property...and I had damaged it!) Walking into the surgery suite, I was greeted by Sgt. Scroggins, the NCO in charge of the enlisted men assigned to OR. Today he had a huge smile on his face. When I first arrived at the 71st, Sgt. Scroggins shepherded me through all of the processing, getting me assigned to a hootch, and the usual myriad of details necessary in getting in-processed at a new duty station. I was quite sick with a cold when I got to Pleiku, having been infected somewhere between Oakland and there. Scroggins gave me some very easy assignments and let me convalesce without too much harassment, which endeared him to me. Today, however, his smile reminded me a little of a tigers', just as he's about to take a "taste" of you! He walked over to me and gently (sort of gently, I suppose) slapped me on the back, which put me on my knees with stars flashing in front of my eyes. "Podnuh (he was from the South...sorry, "da sout."), looks like you mighta got a little too much sun", he purred. He always called everybody "Podnuh", except the officers, of course. Them he called "Sir" or "Ma'am". We enlisted folk were just "podnuh". Looking me over, he shook his head sadly. "Y'all know 'bout Article 15, don'cha?", he asked. My head must have been surrounded by question marks and I just stared at him stupidly (excruciating pain will do that to you). At that moment, I had no idea what he was talking about, all I could think about was the searing pain in my shoulders and back. "The sunburn," he crooned, "Y'all know it's an Article 15 offense to get burned bad 'nuff so you can't work, don'cha?" Aha! The lights went on in my brain..."Ah yes, I remembered now! The charge would be "Damaging Government Property"." I'd always tried my best to be a good soldier and getting an Article 15 wouldn't be a good thing...it might even cost me my Good Conduct Medal! I straightened up and told Scroggins that I could still do my job, no problem. He just gave me a knowing smile, said "Okay, podnuh, you're scrubbed on a case on OR 1 in twenty minutes.", and walked back into his office, humming to himself. Did I mention what a nice guy he was? No, really, I mean it! Compared to most of the NCOs I'd been acquainted with, he was a positive ray of sunshine. Slipping into my scrubs, my brain registered a vital piece of information that had been just sitting there, simmering, waiting for a chance to hold up its' little hand and say, "Sir! Sir! He said SCRUB!!!" During OR training, an entire afternoon had been devoted to the process of SCRUBBING for surgery. For two minutes (that means AT LEAST 120 seconds) every portion of both arms below the elbow are scrubbed enthusiastically with a VERY stiff surgical scrub brush. You begin just below the elbow, scrubbing every square inch of flesh...working your way down to the wrist...then hand... then each finger! Each tiny little finger is treated as though it had four sides, each of which must be scrubbed. I wasn't too worried about my hands, but, fearfully, I looked at my beet-red arms...wondering if it would be considered contamination of the surgical field if I were to bleed all over it. This was NOT going to be nearly as much fun as the water polo game had been! Looking around at the rest of the crew, I decided that none of us looked very good. Everyone was about the same shade of red as I, more or less. Worst of all was Smitty. I'd at least thrown on a t-shirt at mid-afternoon, so my burns were not nearly as bad as his. My back and shoulders were starting to blister up, but his shoulders and upper back were completely blistered already! I said a short prayer of thanks that at least we didn't have to scrub our BACKS! I had entertained thoughts of trying to con someone else to scrub in for me, but, from the look of the rest of them, they'd already had that thought...I was a little behind the power curve on this one. By going easy on the scrub and cheating a little, I was able to survive surgery. It turned out that was our only case, for which the entire was eternally grateful. As the night progressed, so did the course of the burns, my shoulders were blistering up, as was my nose and forehead. The following day, we all stayed indoors, not daring to add further injury to our toasted bodies. When we arrived for duty the following day, we were a pretty sorry-looking bunch. Smitty was the worst of all, though, his shoulders were completely blistered, as was his face. His shoulders had blistered AND popped in places, with the skin hanging down in strips, revealing the raw flesh beneath. Bad second-degree burns! We'd all seen enough burns to recognize them. After one look by the surgeon on duty, Smitty was sitting in a treatment room, having the blistered skin removed and sulfamylon cream slathered on. We then laid on ABD (abdominal) (they're kinda like Kotex pads for elephants) pads to soak up the ooze. He was hurtin' unit, for sure! However, we all soldiered on, doing the best we could. Smitty looked a little like the hunchback of Notre Dame with all the pads on his back and shoulders...he was a huge guy to start with...now he looked like a mountain! We had a little tiny Vietnamese lady, whom we called "Ma", who helped around the OR, cleaning up, making coffee, etc. She was only about 4'7" and probably weighed 75 pounds. Standing next to Smitty, with his shoulders all padded up, she looked like a 5-year old standing there. We all loved "Ma". Wonder what happened to her when the NVA retook the Highlands in '72...I hope she survived. Eventually we all healed, though it was terrible to go through the intense itching phase as the burns started to heal. Smitty's shoulders ended up having some scarring, but he eventually went home, as did we all. I wonder if he remembers his 71st Sunburn...he probably still bears the scars. Comments: E-mail me Thanks for visiting ...SP5 Steven Streeper
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