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A Navy corpsman on Guadalcanal, 1942John Francis Richter HM1 USN(Ret) 1st Marine Div FMF Largo, Florida I can only offer info affecting MY limited world, made up of 5 rugged Marines on a 75mm Gun Half-Track that operated in isolated areas. Guadalcanal was a jungle-like, hot, damp, mosquito-infested island blessed further with heavy downpours and lightning flashes that at times could not be distinguished from that of enemy Naval gun flashes! An island that rocked back and forth as a broadside of 14-inch shells from a Jap battleship sank deep within its innards! An island that trembled almost daily from heavy enemy bombings (and head-bashing falling coconuts). An island continually invaded by an increasing number of Japanese troops, predetermined to have their say!!'Front line' battle wounds were treated with the topical application of a moderate coating of sulfanilamide powder sprinkled directly into the open wound. Sulfathiazol tablets were given orally (if not an abdominal wound) for help in the fight against bacterial infection. Then a dry padded battle dressing was applied. If the patient was in extreme pain, morphine sulfate (1/4 gram) was injected intramuscularly (into the deltoid muscle if practical). The morphine solution was in a small squeezable tube affixed with sterile needle, ready for immediate use. I carried in an emptied Jap gas mask case various first aid items ranging from simple Band Aids to morphine sulfate. Many other items necessary to maintain a healthy fighting crew, were also carried in that case, or in my 'Unit Three' (pouches with shoulder harness). Men with symptoms of malaria (chills--fever--chills--fever, etc.) were referred to the Regimental Aid Station as were any cases I could not handle in isolation. Preventive medicine included Atabrine tablets administered semiweekly to suppress malaria symptoms; salt tablets prior to or after excessive perspiration; proper hygiene -- the 'whore's bath' accomplished with helmet shell filled to capacity with rainwater. The all-purpose helmet shell also substituted as washtub for our 'delicate' undergarments (which in time rotted away!) As the cry went out: "There's fungus among us!" I admonished the men to keep themselves as dry as possible.(You could hear their sharp, snide retorts echo throughout that clammy, steaming, rain- drenched jungle: "YEAH!! RIGHT!!") One of our crew was reluctant to leaving his private foxhole at any time. He ate, slept, etc. there until his sparse clothes began to mold. After several unsuccessful attempts to entice him out, we forcefully took him to the Regimental Surgeon for evaluation. (He was immediately replaced.) Evacuation of casualties by Field Hospital was initially by Higgins Boats to off-shore ships. Later with the availability of the airstrip on Guadalcanal, military transport planes evacuated patients to rear area hospitals, some distance from the island. I Used my shelter-halved 'Sick Bay' area as 'Headquarters' for poker playing, gripe sessions and sea story telling. In addition to medical treatment for various conditions, I also believed in dispensing MEGA-DOSES of much needed 'Positive Thinking' to help neutralize the debilitating affect of surrounding and never ending CHAOS!! Saving one's dignityDuring a Japanese air raid on Guadalcanal, our newly formed Half-Track coastal defense position was completely leveled wounding a Marine crew member and blowing Yours Truly out of my shallow foxhole. The man, a no-nonsense type of rugged Marine, whispered in my ear as I treated his very extensive wounds: "Doc! I think I did it in my pants!!" Knowing of his macho image, I reassured him that under those circumstances, 'doing it' in one's pants is par for the course. Besides, none of the Half-Track crew now knew nor need ever know it happened to him. With this assurance, the apprehensive tension on his face suddenly disappeared as he was then transported to a medical facility in the rear (as if there ever WAS a safe 'REAR' on Guadalcanal!!).A stitch in timeDuring a lull in enemy activity on Cape Gloucester, New Britain in the South Pacific in 1943, three of us Navy Corpsmen were involved in a softball match just outside our 11th Marines Aid Station. We tried striking one another out while rotating positions as pitcher, catcher, and batter.On my turn as catcher, Joe Downs, a young novice in the medical field was up at bat. As he swung his bat to the rear, (in anticipation of hitting the pitched ball), Joe bounced that deadly "Louisville Slugger" off my protruding, unmasked skull! The result was a long, deep gash on my forehead that would require considerable stitching. With the more senior medical personnel absent at the time, I sensed a unique opportunity to introduce our young Navy Medic apprentice to some advanced hands-on training. With a small mirror in my hand allowing me to monitor the procedure step-by-step, I instructed my "student" Joe in some rather outstanding artful needlework, practiced on my not so numb forehead! Though he was a bit more apprehensive than I (?), he did an
outstanding job. And why not -- considering his instructor's cool(?),
composed(?), impersonal(?) guidance!!)
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