In or around 1943 I enlisted in the Army Specialized Training Program (ASTP) which we in the college ROTC were advised to do once academically we had been accepted for medical school admission. An alternative was the naval V-12 program which I thought I preferred.
Somewhat to my parent's chagrin and probably displeasure I volunteered for the Navy V-12 program while in Fayetteville. Upon noting my need for glasses (mild presbyopia) the Navy promptly decided they would prefer me in the Army and automatically transferred my "volunteered status" to the Army, where its ASTP was less stringent about visual requirements. The recruiters and ROTC cadre at the U of A assured those of us so-enlisted that upon completion of our premedical curriculum and acceptance to medical school we would be called to active duty and assigned to the ASTP or V-12 unit at that school.
Our call-up occurred in early June 1943. We reported and were processed and sworn-in at Camp Joseph I. Robinson, Arkansas, where we were informed that after a few days we would be ordered to Camp Maxey, Texas for formal ASTP orientation. After several days orders were posted, but instead of Camp Maxey, five of us -- Jim Doherty (from Newport), James G. Stuckey (from Lepanto), Armin Pitchford (from ), Tom DeClerk from Pocohontas, and I -- found our orders cut to report to Fort Riley, Kansas (a long arm of coincidence again as this was the military post from which my father had been ordered to Europe in 1917.). Consultation with the officer staff resulted in prompt reassurance that the end result would be the same, and we'd be back in Little Rock for Medical School well before the scheduled start of the semester in July.
However, when we arrived at Ft. Riley, none of the officer cadre assigned to our unit had any information about ASTP or our matriculation in Medical School. Responses were "you've been sent to us for basic training, and that's what you'll receive -- in the foot Cavalry!" And this was precisely what we embarked upon -- before daylight until night. Our company captain indicated he had "done all he could do for us", and referred us to the the unit Chaplain who more or less stated he would continue to make whatever contacts he could and would also "pray for us". On at least one occasion at night we were sent on a march in the Republican River bottoms searching for escaped prisoners, with steel helmets, full packs, unloaded rifles and bayonets. In whatever free time we were afforded in the evening we spent what pocket money we had phoning anyone we had known with any semblance of authority, including the Dean of Men at the U. of A. and the Dean of the Medical School, and of course our anguished parents. No concrete satisfaction was obtained. Time passed. The medical school Dean Byron Robinson stated that if we were not back and in school by about 15 July we would be beyond the point of no return for us to enter school. Finally, in early July I received a message from Dad that Senator J. William Fulbright (D,Ark) had just informed him via his position as chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee that our orders were being cut for return to school. (I suspect the other concerned parents also had solicited intervention.) Thereafter, they came thru in short order, and we were ticketed by train from Manhattan, Ks. to Kansas City, and then to Little Rock. I was placed in charge of the detail of five. The five of us were assigned one lower and one upper Pullman berth; and managed to sleep intermittently (2 at a time in a berth). We were so gratified to be out of Ft. Riley that the trip seemed to border upon luxury.
We had a railroad transfer layover of several hours in Kansas City. The trip represented the first time we had been out of a military camp since our induction. The station area in Kansas City had a number of army "surplus" type stores nearby; most of us treated ourselves to a barbershop shave and haircut and a new, and fresh, set of summer kahkis. The boost in our morale was highly positive!
In retrospect, this Kansas assignment was probably a good experience for all of us, for only one failed to graduate with our class. We'd had a taste of army, war-time, serious training, and none relished any thought or desire of having to return to it before being commissioned. Medical school study is automatically more serious than undergraduate college effort, but we attempted to be certain that we raised our scholarly priority considerably higher than some others in the class. I found myself able years later to thank Senator Fulbright personally for his intervention on our behalf at a party at Kay Grahams to which I had been invited. He displayed no recall of the incident but knew my father well and overall he responded appropriately.
We were assigned to Company A, 3879 SCU, U. of Ark. Med. School. Pfc. Pass #175. Authorized to be within 75 miles of
Little Rock at all times when not on active duty.
Housemates on Welch Street during the freshman year were James Curtis Dunbar (from Mountain Home); and Lloyd Hornbuckle. We had formations and drilled in MacArthur Park, across the street from the medical school. The Navy V2 guys were not so required, at least on any regular basis to our consternation.
Great news on September 8, 1943 in the Arkansas Democrat. Headline "Italy Ceases Hostilities Against Allies", announced by General Eisenhower from his HQ in North Africa. Marshal Bandoglio, who had succeeded Benito Mussolini, the architect of Fascism. surrendered unconditionally and promised to fight Nazi attacks. The military armistice also was approved by the USSR, and Britain and represented the first major crack in the European fortress. It was effective at 11:30 p.m. Eastern wartime. Ike's HQ in Algiers broadcast a message from him to the Italian fleet admonishing commanders to take heed that you do not scuttle your ships or allow them to be captured. Those in the Mediterranean were advised to sail if possible to Gibraltar, Tripoli, Malta, Haifa Alexandria or Sicily. Those in the Black Sea were told to sail to a Russian port. This most welcome development occurred at the end of my second month in Medical School, and -- happy as we were -- there were no illusions that the end of the war was at hand. My group remained more concerned with school and mastering and passing our courses than the details of the war.
In 1944 I moved from the Welch Street room into Uncle Bud's apartment on Cavanaugh Blvd in Capital Heights. It was located on a trolley line enabling direct transportation to/ from medical school. The Ford supplemented this need and it was easy to form a carpool of classmates. The BS in Med. was awarded on...-The war! D-day.
Chapter 6 1945 - 1949
April 13, 1945: President Franklin D. Roosevelt died yesterday from a cerebral hemorrhage in the "Little White House" at Warm Springs, Ga. at 4:35 p.m. His last words were "I have a terrific headache". He was in the third month of his 4th term as President.
Other headlines that day: Truman takes Oath, promises to Press war. Destroyer lost to Jap planes (off Okinawa with several other surface units damaged). Mrs. Roosevelt is sorry for the world. Services at White House Saturday. Russians fast close up trap around Vienna; Nazi garrison virtually surrounded. Many die as tornado hits in Oklahoma. U.S. Advance may go into Berlin today; only orders from General Simpson needed.
1945-
My medical school curriculum was "accelerated" in that we were to cover the normal four years of study in three because of the perceived military need for doctors. Our basic sciences freshman classes were conducted between July 1943 and the end of March in 1944. The sophomore curriculum between April 1944 and the end of December. The first of the advanced clinical years or "junior year" between Jan. 1945 and September 1945; and the "senior curriculum " from October 19453 and thru June 1946.
The studies were grueling, tedious and long, but I found them much more attractive and challenging, especially when we advanced into the introduction to clinical medicine. In the military, we had to drill and march several times each week (less than the navy V-12 guys) and had an occasional lecture, most of which were anything but inspiring. I was thrilled when we began to be exposed to living patients in the junior and senior year equivalents. During the senior span portions of the class where we were sent to "extern" in various medical sites around the state which provided for a more diverse medical "hands on" experience than that of only the University Hospital in Little Rock. My draw was an assignment to the Saint Edwards Catholic Hospital in Fort Smith. We rotated thru its services paralleling the intern programs of that era. My initial primary interest was in general surgery, and I was scheduled for considerable exposure to it while at St. Edwards. However, one of my memorable negative experiences occurred one night when scrubbed for an "emergency" appendectomy. The surgeon was the young son of a staff senior surgeon. During the operation I had the temerity to query "why it seems that so many of the post-midnight appendectomies he had performed when I had scrubbed with him were followed by pathological reports of 'a normal appendix'"? Feathers ruffled, he castigated me thoroughly but the response contained no facts that were logical to me (it was some years later while in the military that I was taught "if about 20% of the appendices you remove are not normal, there is a significant chance you're going to cause a fatality by not removing a bad appendix with an outside of normal clinical presentation". Instead, his response was "I'm a board-certified surgeon and who are you to challenge my judgment?" His use of "the certification shield" served to cause me to question the validity of such a credential, a reaction I have never abandoned. And I began to question whether or not I really wanted to become a surgeon.
The hospital also had an excellent affiliated graduate nursing program with a significant number of student nurses. This was about the same time a young lady from Little Rock and I ceased dating. I found several of the student nurses attractive and appealing, and I began dating one with some frequency. Her name was JaNell Reynolds, a senior. She lived in town with her divorced mother. Among other outings I took her to Judsonia on an occasion or two to meet my parents and eventually gave her my fraternity pin. My internship at the Garfield Memorial Hospital in Washington, D. C. began in 1946 and ended in June 1947. In August 1947 I was recalled to active army duty as a first lieutenant, reporting to Fort Sam Houston, Texas. Stover made the trip to San Antonio with me to visit his girl friend, Carmen McCormick. I did a fair amount of sightseeing in San Antonio and environs including a couple of short outings across into Mexico at Laredo which I found to be a relatively unattractive border town. We also saw a couple of southwest conference football games in Austin. In our army orientation I found one lecture by a veterinarian to be outstanding on the subject of the grading of meat. The Texas weather was hot. On our last day at Ft. Sam we "fell in" by companies on the huge quadrangle whereupon our names and site of our new assignments were read over the PA system. It was a slow, tedious process but I was delighted to learn my orders were cut for duty at the Walter Reed General Hospital in Washington. My allowed travel time was adequate that I could drive from San Antonio to Washington via Judsonia, spending two nights at home.
General Beach was the Walter Reed CO, a popular individual with impeccable credentials. Upon reporting I was assigned to Ward 32, the tropical medicine ward staffed by Majors Heidicke and Harry Horstman. They proved to be excellent instructors and I was afforded opportunities to care for patients with such conditions as malaria, schistosomiasis, filariasis, amoebiasis, kala-azar, trypanosomiasis, and leprosy among many others. General internal medicine was also necessary and I found the assignment hugely enjoyable.
As occasional MOD (medical officer of the day) I also drew my share of lesser assignments to hold stockade sick call and participate in venereal disease clinics. After two or three months my duties were expanded by a special detail to work with pulmonologist Lt.Col. Joseph Vivas who introduced me to respiratory function tests and specialty care in pulmonary medicine. I also enjoyed the time spent on his service because I was actively learning. It came to an end in the spring, however, when orders were forthcoming for several of us to proceed to Ft. Bragg, N.C. where we were assigned to the 171st Evacuation Hospital destined to accompany the 82nd Airborne division on maneuvers at Camp Campbell, Ky.
During the internship year my medical perspectives had broadened progressively. A junior resident in Medicine to whom I became attached was Dr. Edwin P. "Buzz" Parker and I found his enthusiasm for internal medicine, and that of other residents, infectious. Similarly, the experiences on surgery involved a great deal, of "scut" work that was occasionally boring and relatively "no brainer.". I began to confirm greater personal interest in ascertaining "what's wrong" with patients than in operating on them.
As interns we received $15.00 / month as salary, room & board, laundry and every other week-end "off". I found that a a $25.00 stipend for selling a pint of my blood every four to six week made a significant difference in my kingly life-style.
There also was a nursing school at Garfield, but my dating largely was confined to one or two female interns and to girls who were close acquaintances of cousins Romona and Janis North.
Among these were Jane Lingo, Lucille Camalier, Florence Montfort, Monica Galliard, and Carolyn Wendt. Naval Academy football games on weekends provided one occasional diversion, including the annual Army-Navy classic to which we could commute by train in Philadelphia. Glen Davis, Doc Blanchard, Arnold Tucker and others were in their prime and Army usually dominated the contests. Jane and I frequently double-dated with Romona and some of her friends. Jane also was regarded in local circles as being "best friends" with Margaret Truman resulting in a number of experiences being included within "Margaret's circle" of friends/acquaintances. A few of these experiences are selectively recalled and memorable in part because of the "aura" that accompanied them.
In the spring of 1947 my assignment to Walter Reed Memorial Hospital was terminated by orders to be transferred to the 171st Evacuation Hospital at Ft. Bragg, NC. Duty there was trivial with some time devoted to radiology and some to dispensary service, and even more to the golf course. After a couple of weeks we were detailed to field duty to support the 82nd Airborne division on maneuvers at Camp (later, Fort) Campbell, Ky. I was assigned an ambulance detail and to the "enemy" aggressor force headed by Col. Sam Sloane. My code name was "Vulture". We existed in tents and found the surrounding terrain to be over-populated by ground hogs, a few of which were annihilated by some of my corpsmen who kicked them in the head.