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<blockquote data-quote="Chuck57" data-source="post: 1035891" data-attributes="member: 75774"><p>I've got a couple of stories to go along with the song below. I was in the hospital in Saigon, wounded during Tet '68. When I awoke, there was a nurse standing beside my bed doing something with an IV bottle. I looked at her and asked, "Am I in Heaven?" She smiled down at me and said, "If this is Heaven, get me out of here."</p><p></p><p>The other story happened a few days later. About four beds down from me was a kid (19 years old) they'd brought in the day before. He was in bad shape. The next day, they brought in curtains, on rollers, and put them around his bed. A nurse went in, was there a while, and then another took her place, and that went on all day. All the guys at that end of the hospital ward got kind of quiet, talking in whispers, and watching the curtains.</p><p></p><p>The soldier was dying. We all knew it. We found out the nurses were sitting with him, holding his hand and whispering to him, hoping that even in a coma some part of him would hear them, or feel their touch, and he'd know he wasn't dying all alone. That's when I knew, those Army nurses really cared about us. We all thought maybe they were the only ones who did. Our country sure didn't seem to. Those girls put in 12 to 16 hour days, 6 days a week. Sometimes they didn't get their day off, and they took an hour after their shift was over to sit with a dying man, so he'd have someone with him when he passed away. God bless them. They're the real heroes of that war.</p><p>[MEDIA=youtube]IUYPevLkuEc[/MEDIA]</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Chuck57, post: 1035891, member: 75774"] I've got a couple of stories to go along with the song below. I was in the hospital in Saigon, wounded during Tet '68. When I awoke, there was a nurse standing beside my bed doing something with an IV bottle. I looked at her and asked, "Am I in Heaven?" She smiled down at me and said, "If this is Heaven, get me out of here." The other story happened a few days later. About four beds down from me was a kid (19 years old) they'd brought in the day before. He was in bad shape. The next day, they brought in curtains, on rollers, and put them around his bed. A nurse went in, was there a while, and then another took her place, and that went on all day. All the guys at that end of the hospital ward got kind of quiet, talking in whispers, and watching the curtains. The soldier was dying. We all knew it. We found out the nurses were sitting with him, holding his hand and whispering to him, hoping that even in a coma some part of him would hear them, or feel their touch, and he'd know he wasn't dying all alone. That's when I knew, those Army nurses really cared about us. We all thought maybe they were the only ones who did. Our country sure didn't seem to. Those girls put in 12 to 16 hour days, 6 days a week. Sometimes they didn't get their day off, and they took an hour after their shift was over to sit with a dying man, so he'd have someone with him when he passed away. God bless them. They're the real heroes of that war. [MEDIA=youtube]IUYPevLkuEc[/MEDIA] [/QUOTE]
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