The Marines were first to receive attention in the dispensary. Some had minor wounds and only needed stitches. I would talk to them, give them cigarettes, ask them questions about anything and everything, and basically try to boost their spirits. I remember one Marine who held onto my hand while the doctor sewed up a flesh wound on his arm without any painkiller. He was really looking forward to going back into battle.

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It got very busy at times. On many occasions, the four-bed operation room was full of badly wounded Marines. I remember the first Marine wounded by an enemy AK-47 rifle who was carried into the dispensary. He had a nasty head wound, and the blood would not stop flowing. The doctors bandaged the soldier and did a tracheotomy, but that was about all they could do. I was instructed to hold his legs during the treatment because his body quivered and shook. The doctors commented on the fact that the AK-47 bullets really tore up human flesh. That was confirmed by many other Marines, who told me that the AK-47 was a much more powerful weapon compared to the U.S. M-16. The Marines said that they could tell which side of the street the enemy was on by the deeper bullet holes in the walls on the opposite side of the street. M-16 bullet imprints were not as deep.

As the days passed, I tried to keep my wits about me. I had run an errand upstairs in the hotel area and was coming down the steps of the open stairwell when I ran into Walter Cronkite and two members of his film crew. All of a sudden, a hail of sniper fire came from the direction of the Perfume River. As bullets whizzed by my head, I ran down the steps and sprinted across the open courtyard, trying to avoid getting shot by the snipers. I sought shelter in the mess area, where other soldiers were waiting for the firing to stop. As I dashed in the door, I said, ‘A guy could get killed out there!’ We all laughed. I tried to keep a sense of humor about this whole experience. I knew that there were certain things I could control and other things that I could not control. So I tried to make the best of the situation. In the end, it helped me to keep my sanity.

One dark, overcast night, as the siege continued all around us and there was a lull in the mini-MASH chaos, I got a chance to look out the dispensary door and glance up to the sky. I could hear the heavy fighting going on across the Perfume River. My eyes focused on the compound’s flagpole. There, in all its glory, flew the United States flag. It was waving in the breeze and was all lighted up by spotlights. At that moment, I was proud to be an American, even though I was in a world of misery and danger.

To say that the doctors were amazing would be an understatement. Without much sleep and under enormous stress, they worked long hours to care for the wounded. One day a Vietnamese civilian whose penis had been partially severed was brought into the dispensary.. He was treated with respect and care just like everyone else. The doctor operated, and the Vietnamese man had an excellent prognosis for a complete recovery. You never saw such a grateful person!

On another afternoon, a badly wounded Marine was brought into the dispensary after a street battle. Shrapnel had taken off most of the young man’s foot; only a few ligaments were holding his foot to his ankle. The doctors administered a shot of morphine, then cut off his foot–still in its jungle boot–and put it into a body bag. An army chaplain was by his side during the whole operation. After the operation, the wounded Marine looked up at the chaplain and asked, ‘Padre, how can God love them and us?’ The chaplain was speechless.

I was raised as a Roman Catholic. I volunteered my time Sunday mornings at church services in the compound chapel. During the siege, a foreign priest who had been trapped in a house in the city was rescued by the Marines and brought to the MACV compound. He talked with me about his experiences while we were both sitting in a small, dark room in the dispensary. He described how the enemy used innocent civilians as cover so they could shoot at American soldiers, knowing that the Americans would not shoot the civilians. The priest told me how the snipers would shoot from one location and run to another area. The Marines would then fire on the empty spot. It was very strange to be listening to the priest’s ‘confession’ about war.

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