Letters from Vietnam July–October 1967 Peter Last
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LETTERS FROM VIETNAM JULY–OCTOBER 1967 PETER LAST THE SOUTH AUSTRALIAN BIEN HOA TEAM JULY–OCTOBER 1967 Sitting: Aileen Monck, Olga Nicholls, Margaret Bolton, Beth Harvey Standing: Rod White, Tom Allen, Peter Last, Doug Townsend, Graham Wilson (Team Leader), John Quirk, Jenny Leak, Phil Nurcombe (Administrator), Jo Griffin In 1967 I was 37; Graham Wilson was about 42; Rod White was 40; and Doug Townsend was about my age, although he graduated a year or so later than I did. Tom Allen (sometime RAAF Spitfire pilot) graduated in my year under the CRTS program, and was the oldest of us. John Quirk was in his early thirties, and Phil Nurcombe looked to be in his late thirties–early forties. Olga Nicholls was naturally the senior of the nurses and probably the oldest. Aileen Monck completed her training in the same group as my Jenny, who turned 34 soon after I arrived in Bien Hoa. The other nurses were about the same age, being mature enough not to be flighty like some of those elsewhere. Margaret Bolton, was exactly my age, and I think Jo Griffin was the youngest. The nurses displayed total commitment and the highest standards of professional integrity under conditions directly analogous to those facing Florence Nightingale on arrival in the Crimea. Letters from Vietnam July–October 1967 Page 2 SOME OF THE VIETNAMESE PERSONALITIES Mrs Hai Senior nurse (“Ward Sister”) in the Children’s Ward, cheerful, friendly and able, passing through her fourth pregnancy. Miss Nga The second nurse (“Staff Nurse”) in the Children’s Ward, a tense woman with a haunted face suggesting great suffering. She wore the small black patch of mourning, but she never confided and I didn’t try to probe. She had a toddler “adopted” son the same age as Mrs Hai’s youngest. A year or so later, when the physician doing the same work I did was Tom Paxon, Chest Specialist from RGH (Daw Park), she was arrested as a VC supporter and was confined in the Prison Ward until taken away. It would be intriguing to hear what became of her. Dr Tho Medicin-Chef (Medical Superintendent). A plump and unenterprising man who seemed to be a steady drinker. He had private practice premises in Bien Hoa town. Dr Tuan A shy and very pleasant doctor, who had just completed ten years of (spelling compulsory service in the Vietnamese Air Force. He had at least 200 patients uncertain) in the hospital and also had a private practice in the town. He was anxious to learn, especially cardiology, but passively resisted all attempts to persuade him to change his traditional ways of uncritical polypharmacy and neglect of clinical hygiene, especially hand washing. Mr Ba (or Baa) The Head Nurse (“Matron”) who was establishing proper clinical discipline and nurse education. His enthusiasm was refreshing, but again he seemed steadfast in being reluctant to depart from established attitudes and procedures. Mrs Yulan The wife of an Air Force officer, who was a gracious and willing interpreter, with good English, but apparently prone to extrapolating what patients said into what she thought the doctors wanted to hear. Sergeant Nguyen A short and spare man, even for a Vietnamese, cheerful and obliging and hence a popular (and I think reliable) interpreter. Always called Sergeant. Quoc A sensitive dental student on long vacation employed as an interpreter and always helpful and considerate of patients’ feelings. Nguyen Van The shy and self-effacing senior Laboratory technician, anxious to learn new Hung techniques. His pretty wife also worked in the laboratory. (They trained and graduated together.) I participated in a group who provided funds and support when they migrated from Guam to Australia and were employed at Princess Margaret Hospital in Perth. Their daughter, Thai Nguyen, graduated in medicine from the University of Western Australia and became a radiologist. Sister Joseph A cheerful and friendly middle-aged nun who acted as the hospital social worker and assumed responsibility for the hospital orphans, who were almost all boys. I don’t know what happened to girl orphans. Letters from Vietnam July–October 1967 Page 3 THE WRITER AND HIS FAMILY I am Peter Murray Last, born in 1929 and educated at Brighton Public School, Saint Peter’s College and the University of Adelaide, where I graduated MB BS in 1952. My elder brother (an acclaimed epidemiologist) and I were brought up by our single-parent mother. Our father was a well-known professor of anatomy at the Royal College of Surgeons in London. He was not involved in any way beyond the divorce settlement. After hospital experience in Adelaide, Melbourne and London, I returned to Adelaide, having passed the examinations to become a Member of the Royal Australasian College of Physicians (MRACP) and the Royal College of Physicians of London (MRCP). In 1967 I was elected to Fellowship of the Australasian College and in 1977 of the London College. In that year I was admitted a Fellow of the Royal Australian College of Medical Administrators (FRACMA). Apart from a year of general practice, I spent my career in salaried medicine, first as an active clinician and teacher and then as an administrator. Looking back, I can say that at the time I went to Bien Hoa I was at the height of my powers, confident to the point sometimes of being cocky, but recognising that I elicited respect both for my abilities and for my driving enthusiasm. I was Specialist (Physician) at Repatriation General Hospital (Springbank — subsequently Daw Park), an Honorary Assistant Physician to Royal Adelaide Hospital, tutor to Lincoln College and a member of the Faculty of Medicine of Adelaide University. In 1955 I married Jennifer Mary Robertson (Jenny Wren) and we had four children — Robert John (Robby) 15 July 1956 Katherine Margaret (Kate) 26 May 1958 Anne Elizabeth 2 October 1960 William Peter (Billy) 11 April 1963 The Last family on the day of departure to Vietnam, 1 July 1967 I retired in 1990, and subsequently I was awarded the Medal of the Order of Australia (OAM). These letters are transcribed exactly as I wrote them, omitting some transient material relevant only to my family. In particular, they have not been retrospectively edited. The originals were lodged in the Australian War Memorial in November 2011. The collection of 35 mm slides was lodged with the State Library of South Australia also in November 2011. Letters from Vietnam July–October 1967 Page 4 R–101 [The number of days before returning home, which was a week or so after leaving the country] 4 Jul 67 Bien Hoa Dearest Jenny Wren, John Barker [returning anaesthetist] has promised to deliver these to you on Friday or Saturday, so that it will reach you in time for your [34th] birthday [9 July]. You may have thought from my hastily scribbled letters that my frantic hours over the last two days have totally preoccupied me to the exclusion of everything else. In fact you have been constantly with me, and I have found myself turning again and again to wondering what you are doing and how things have been going with you. It’s all very well for me to be dashing about absorbing new impressions and spending money that I haven’t yet earned. Don’t think that I don’t understand the drudgery and evening loneliness that I have left you with. Again and again I find myself to be able to convey no more than part of the impressions crowding in. I shall start by describing as fully as I can all that has happened on this memorable first day. After circling through what Tom [Allen, sometime RAAF Spitfire pilot in Europe] called 6/10 cumulus cloud, we landed at Saigon. Coming in we passed river after river winding down through the delta. The water is like pale milk chocolate and stains the sea far out from shore. Each stream (and there are dozens) is wider than the Murray at Pun [Punyelroo, family sheep property downstream from Swan Reach], and the whole area is interlaced with connecting streams and canal cuts. Rice is planted in strips, some green, some brown, and interspersed with tracts of unclaimed jungle [probably uncleared intended]. We saw long straight roads, crowded with traffic and little towns and villages. As expected, Saigon is squalid. We landed at the huge airport, with assorted military aircraft everywhere. Graham [Wilson, team leader] was there to meet us, with Phil [Nurcombe], the somewhat unprepossessing administrator. The formalities of customs etc were inefficient and tedious, and then out to the Holden station wagon. Phil drove to the Saigon rest house, where apparently I shall be spending your birthday. Mercifully we escaped the briefing at the Embassy and drove straight out here. We didn’t go near the centre of the city at all, but what we saw was fascinating. The streets were teeming with people, and, unlike Singapore, far less cosmopolitan. The celebrated little Lambretta taxis were everywhere, and later I shall get photographs to show them. A little box-like cabin is put on the back of a Lambretta (one size bigger than yours) and has two wheels to support it. I saw one with seven people, plus driver, and, as Phil said, they weren’t even trying. All I can do is to convey snatched glimpses. A little group of boys playing naked in a wayside pool only feet from all the traffic. Banners everywhere in Vietnamese, clearly indicating a function for 3–7 July — perhaps political rallies. The constant stream of US & VN army vehicles & personnel.