Jump T.O.C Medic, aid station action
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I don't
know who
wrote the
numbers
(22) on
the letters,
but they
are not all
correct in
terms of
order
written, I
think.  
Something
is missing
or doesn't
fit.
Hruby was from Berkely and was the
"nurse" that ran the aid station, medically.  
We had an E-6, Sergeant Johnson, that
was in charge of the medical platoon.  He
was a total asshole, while contrastingly,
Hruby was totally cool.  Sergeant Johnson
seemed blessed with the mission of making
my life miserable, while Hruby taught me
which drugs were good to take when, and
how much.  He also knew his shit when it
came to playing nurse.  One time I gave a
guy a penicillin shot in the ass and he
keeled over in anaphylactic (
spellcheck
on isle 5!
) shock.  I yelled "RHUBY!  
ANAPHYLACTIC SHOCK"!!"
He was there in a heartbeat with a syringe
of Epinephrin and a syringe of Benedryl.  
We each took an arm.  In about a minute
this guy was going through a big speed
rush..then the Benedryl would slow him to
a crawl.  He surged like that for a bit till
things levelled out. It was almost humorous
watching him get wired up and talking and
being confused, then his speech would
slow to a drawl..sorta Texas
politian-like...Hruby and I exchanged
glances of awe and supressed grins.
Better than being dead.. I guess.

After that, every time I ran into that guy
(the patient), he treated me with great
respect and a little
over-the-top praise.  I
didn't deserve it but never shied away from
it either.

Regarding Sergeant Johnson; he had it in
for me cause I refused to play along with
the army stuff.  I did my job out there in the
field and didn't have any respect for many
regulations, or, well, any of it.  I was busted
to private first class when I was AWOL
before joining the party, and Sergeant
Johnson saw too it I stayed a private first
class for quite awhile

One time I was just coming from the
showers after being out for 7 days and he
flew at me because my shirt wasn't
buttoned, my hair was too long etc etc
..while insinuating I wasn't up to snuff,
soldier-wise.  Now that really hurt!  So I told
him he was proof that chimpansies fucked
goats.  He turned a few colors of purple
and walked off in a huff.  I did an
about
face
and proceeded to the closest bunker
where surely there was some good smoke.  
 BINGO!  We smoked a couple of tasty
"Park Lanes" with seeds popping etc while
manning the 50 cal machine gun.  We were
just starting to have fun when a guy came
jogging up telling me Captain Rionnes
wanted to talk to me.  Ugggh..that was a
real downer..MAN.

I timidly entered The Captain's office and
waited for the inevitable berating, scolding,
and brow-beating.                 
It never came!
 He told me since I'd been a medic working
with his company I had done a good job
out there and had the trust of the men..etc
etc etc.  

"AND..by the way,
Sergeant Johnson
wanted me to talk to you."

"Thank you, Daly."  (a nice dismissal)

It was a pretty cool experience.
June 2, 1970, (approx)