...from “I’ve Got To Write a Book!”
by Ira Wiggins
Army Days (part 2)
Since our last reunion in Kankakee it was daily becoming more painful to be separated from Betty, who was now in her last year of nurses’ training at Grace Hospital in Detroit. She came to see me at Camp Shanks on June 10th and we decided to “tie the knot” despite the nursing school’s rule forbidding marriage before the last six months of school. What the school didn’t know wouldn’t hurt us.
I was unable to get leave so, on June 14th, 1945, with local military friends for best man and best lady, we were married in a small chapel on the post at Camp Shanks. I was in my military dress uniform and she was in a simple suit-dress with a small corsage. The lack of a friend-and relative-filled church detracted not one whit from our ecstasy. As we walked from the church to the local bus station we were nonchalant, not especially wanting to be spotted as 15 minute newlyweds. We knew something had betrayed us when we passed an enlisted man and, after passing us, he began softly whistling “Here Comes the Bride”. As we turned to look at him he gave us a sly grin and a wink.
*****
My superior officer, Col. Bater, had given me the day off to get married but, for some reason known only to him, had firmly declined to give me the following day. We checked into a small hotel in Nyack, New York where I had a bouquet of a dozen white roses waiting.
The following morning I arose shortly after dawn in order to catch the early bus back to camp and a day’s work. As I was leaving the hotel I met a co-worker who had apparently also stayed the night and was returning to the hospital. I noticed that he was discretely avoiding the subject of why I had spent the night at the hotel. I finally revealed to him that I had just been married. His reason I never learned.
After working in the status of a new husband for eight days, I was finally granted a ten-day leave by Col. Bater, at the end of which time Betty returned to nursing school and I to Camp Shanks.
On 15 Sept. 1945 I was assigned as the commanding officer of a new MHSP - the 982nd at Fort Hamilton, New York. My five nd a half month stint at Camp Shanks had been most enjoyable but I was once again to be part of a small traveling unit with one medical officer (me), one dental officer and 13 enlisted corpsmen. The day I received the assignment I shook off the mild wave of nausea that settled over me - just thinking about the undulations of a ship’s deck. To my surprise, and for reasons unknown to me, those orders were cancelled and on 1 Oct. I received orders assigning me as part of the medical staff of the U.S. Army Hospital Ship “Frances Y. Slanger”. I expected the work to be more interesting and medically stimulating, but there would still be those damnable weaving, unstable decks to contend with.
Our first trip was to Cherbourg, France, caring for 135 German POWs en route. On the return trip we carried 140 ambulatory g.i.s who required little or no care. The following trip again took us to Cherbourg carrying no passengers or patients - only the staff of the ship. We kept the deck of bridge cards warm. The return trip was with 140 ambulatory cases.
During these trips, with time on my hands, I half-jokingly sent in official papers requesting transfer to shore duty because of chronic seasickness. Someone “up there” must have believed me, for on 7 Dec. I was permanently assigned as chief of the Medical Service at the Station Hospital, Camp Shanks, New York.
*****
The contagion ward was my prime responsibility and it was an enlightening experience. In addition to the serious communicable diseases such as meningitis we had occasion to see many complications of measles (pneumonia, ear infections, encephalitis), mumps (pancreatitis, orchitis, meningitis) and chickenpox (cellulitis, pneumonia). I recall seeing one soldier with chickenpox whose entire mucous membranes (mouth and rectum) were covered with the lesions. He was most uncomfortable.
By and large most patients and their relatives took the medical care pretty much for granted, but I did frequently get a “Thanks, doc!” The parents of one young man who recovered completely from a rather severe case of meningococcal meningitis sent me as a gift a rather large book entitled “The history of World War II”. Inside they had written a note of thanks.
*****
Betty finished her training in Feb. 1946. In March she came to Englewood, N.J. where I had rented a cozy apartment for the two of us. It was easy commuting distance to Camp Shanks. She worked at the local hospital in Englewood. We were determined to never again allow such prolonged periods of separation, a determination which was to often play a part in our future decisions.
On the basis of time served I was entitled to be separated from the service in June of 1946. I could hardly wait. The military salary I had been receiving allowed me to gradually repay some of my debt to my father but I was anxious to start private practice and start eliminating my debts at a faster rate. So, despite an offer of promotion to major, I happily skipped off to Ft. Dix, N.J. 30 June to 3 July to be “separated”. The last day of my “terminal leave” was 21 Aug. 1946, thus ending my two and a half year forced association with the military. I had seen a lot of country - and a lot of ocean. I had acquired new medical experiences. It was far from a total loss but I yearned to be a civilian again. Saluting or being saluted was never my cup of tea. Thus I declined to join the reserves. Nor was I tempted to join the VFW or the American Legion in subsequent years. I had served my time and wanted only to make the military experience a part of ancient history.
