A Souvenir Difficult to Forget
Dr Truong Minh Cuong - M.D. Major
In operation Lam Son 719, I was in charge of a field hospital positioning in Khe Sanh. This field hospital was composed of two parts.
"The part above the ground was composed of two big tents being used as outpatients, triages, dental, pharmaceutical and minor surgical rooms.
"The underground part was a very long tunnel bunker. It could harbour fifty patients in beds. There was an operating room, well equipped with surgical instruments and anaesthetic machines. There was also an emergency room, a resuscitation room and a post-operative ward.
I still recalled an afternoon when Dr. Tran Tien Nam and I were going to amputate a leg of a wounded Marine who had been wounded by a NVA shelling. One of his legs had open comminuted fractures with torn tendons and muscles. He received a pre-anaesthetic injection and a caudal anaesthesia. The surgical operation was performed, in a tent above the ground, because the underground operating room was busy with a more severe case needing a big operation. When I was applying a surgical saw on the tibia, the main bone of his leg, a loud explosion startled everybody. The tent was shaking. All activities ceased and were paralysed for some seconds. I heard disorderly shouts calling one another to run to the tunnel.
The NVA shellings usually came in tens or hundreds rounds. I ordered my surgical team to transport the patient down to the underground area so we could continue the procedure for fear that the NVA's following artillery rounds would cause great danger to the patient and to the surgical team. We quickly put him on a litter and covered him with surgical drapes. A tourniquet was still on his thigh. Chinh, a nurse and Dr. Nam carried the litter. I carried all surgical trays, with instruments inside, which had been wrapped in surgical drapes. When I nearly reached the entrance of the bunker, another deafening explosion occurred very close this time. Sand and dirt flew like a tropical rain. I was thrown down on to the ground. Some medics from inside the bunker ran out to rescue me. I was stunned and could not recognise who was who. A man pulled me sitting down next to him, hiding behind a wall made of sand bags at the entrance.
It was overcrowded inside and it was impossible to insinuate further in it. My eyes, just having been in a bright environment, could not immediately adapt in to the darkness of the tunnel. I only vaguely saw heads of people inside it. I closed my eyes and prayed. However, I could not even concentrate in praying due to the noises produced by people's discussions, swear words and even fearless laughs.
I guessed that, practically no one had been afraid of danger. Thanks to them, I recovered my spirit.
After a period of time, the NVA artillery shellings ceased. Everybody, one after another went out of this field tunnel hospital. Everybody seemed relaxed, probably due to the fresh air they could inspire now. I suddenly saw the litter lying next to the earthen wall on one side of the tunnel. The litter was still there, but the patient was gone. The plastic bag containing dextran was still hung on top of a stainless steel pole and drops of that liquid were dribbling down on to the ground. Everybody ran in different directions to find the patient, calling him by name everywhere. Suddenly, there was a loud voice coming from the far end of the tunnel.
- Doctor, he is here!
We rushed toward him. The patient was still wrapped with surgical drapes. He sat there leaning against the wall. His face showed signs of half-sleepiness. He recounted to us:
“- When I heard the explosion. I suddenly awoke and became completely lucid. When the litter was thrown to the ground, I tried with all my force to crawl. Some people aided by pulling me inside the tunnel. And then myself, I could not understand why I could arrive so far in this tunnel.”
He never recalled that he had been going to be amputated and that a tourniquet had been on his thigh. He did not feel any pains.
One and a half years later, this wounded Marine came to visit me in Marine Hospital Le Huu Sanh. He walked on crutches and was waiting for being supplied a prosthetic limb. He introduced to me, his young wife and his first daughter who had been two months old. He jokingly told me that he had been recompensed for his lost limb. That reward was his wife whom he had known on the medevac aircraft to Saigon. He smiled and continued:
- Had I not lost a limb, I would have not had opportunity to meet her.
Doctors in battlefields used to meet special and unique events. Thinking back to past periods of life, all happiness, sadness, anxieties, fears, hatreds have become beautiful and nice souvenirs.
Dr Truong Minh Cuong, M.D. Major
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