THE HAPPY HAT (9 page)

Chapter 13

Sebastian Remo

“What are you doing to my hat?” Remo struggled in his wheel chair.

“I’m from F-1. Your tests came back okay. You don’t have any pathogenic bacteria cohabitating on your body. You’re outta isolation but I gotta do some final disinfection of the parts of you that came back from Nam–like your hat.”

“Speak English and be careful with my Happy Hat.” Remo stared at the hat. “Are you new? I don’t know you.”

“All your uniforms are in the laundry and cleaners to get sterilized from Asiatic germs. Since you won’t let this Aussie hat outta your sight I’m doing you a favor. I’m spraying some bug juice to make it sterile and safe for you to keep it outside on the colostomy ward.” The corpsman smiled. “And Remo, I’m going to be your best friend here.” He extended his hand. “Achilles Spinelli–Acky. I’m head hospital corpsman on F-1.”

“Colostomy ward? It smells like shit out there. What does it matter about my hat?” Remo moved his wheelchair to follow the corpsman named Acky outside. “And I don’t need any best friend. I make my own friends.”

“I’m just following rules Remo. Do you want your hat to remain part of your wardrobe?”

“Yeah, it’s my Happy Hat.”

“You guys from Nam use funny symbols for happiness. I mean a skull-and-crossbones on the front of your hat band?”Acky finished his germicide spray and handed it to him. “Okay. It’s now back in regulation and hospital compliance.” Acky plopped the hat on Remo’s head. “It’s a good thing your head didn’t lose weight like the rest of you. It still fits.”

Remo cocked his head as they moved outside the isolation room. “We goin’ to F-1 now?”

“Yes we are. I’ll be with you mostly during the day shift. I’m the main floating relief corpsman for lunch breaks with the G-wards.” Acky kicked the door stop in place.

“What are the G-wards and who gives a shit anyway?”

“The G-wards are for orthopedics. You and I are going to be quite important to the plaster patients or rather they’re quite important to us.” Acky stopped the wheelchair.

“Us? What the fuck is this ‘us’ shit.”

“Remo maybe I’m your second best friend. Your first best friend is also my best friend–Cros Bizetes.” Acky grabbed the wheelchair handles and moved briskly out onto the ward. “We’ll get all your stuff.”

‡

“Hey Ike, what’s up from the meeting with Skagan?” LT Sparrow sidled up to Kaplan in the Nurses Station. Her brown hair was put up and her nursing cap incorporated in its hairpins. Sparrow was intrigued by the muscular corpsman. He seemed so mature and confident. Most of the new Navy MDs were already married and the single ones were hormone-driven and wanted to remain single. This Kaplan seemed her age. There was mystery and magnetism about him.

“G-1 has been chosen to consolidate all the removed Southeast Asia plaster casts. We’ll be clearing a section of the cast room for the sealable covered container this morning.”

Sparrow looked around the small cubicle. It was a navy gray aluminum wall topped by four feet of opaque ripple-glass with a wide opening to allow two people abreast to enter. They were alone. Another corpsman was tending to patients. This was her opportunity for personal talk. “Ike, you said you don’t like to talk about personal stuff except in private?”

Kaplan put down Boomer’s chart. “We already talked about Officer-Enlisted barriers. I want to keep a clean slate and have the Navy pay my way to further schooling.”

“We both live off the hospital compound.” She got closer. He smelled nice and she allowed a feeling of safety to emerge.

“I just want to do my job and get my honorable discharge, ma’am.” Their faces were less than a foot apart.

“You’ve been in college. We both graduated from Boston University.” Her hand lightly touched his shoulder.

Kaplan looked around. No one was looking their way. He moved away. “It’s not that I’m not attracted to you. Just think ahead to the possible consequences to both of us.”

“I can’t tell you why but with my connections in the Navy there would never be any consequences.” She gave him her best cow eyes and stayed close to his side.

“You’re just a Lieutenant. I know the power structure in the Navy. I see you quiver when LCDR Skagan comes on the ward. I’m extremely visible with my association with the plaster disposal and LCDR Skagan. I’m also a part of a joint-service study on continuity of care from combat initiated injury to stateside chronic care. Boomer Stiles is my signature case study. I’m under a microscope. Believe me you don’t want to be.” His lies were practiced. They were delivered with sincerity. All FBI agents were trained with story lines for many scenarios such as this.

She let out a sigh of relief at being so rationally addressed. Kaplan had spared her feelings. “And what are your plans after the Navy may I ask?”

Kaplan smiled. “I mentioned going to law school and perhaps some corporate business degree–an MBA–in stock and business management.”

“Well that kind of management attitude certainly follows you around. I mean you arrived a few weeks ago and here you are a senior corpsman in charge of a ward and now managing an important Navy side project.”
Kaplan certainly has prospects for the future.

“Yeah right, consolidation of removed disease-laden plaster orthopedic casts and baby-sitting wounded warriors while their bones heal.” His smile joined her laughter.

“I meant it figuratively. It seems leadership seems to be your aura whatever situation comes your way.” She gave him her most encouraging tone.

“What came my way was a war and LCDR Philomena Skagan.” His levity was gone.

Sparrow felt put off with that remark.
Am I being rebuffed? I wish I could get him alone and out of uniform.
“Okay. Back to business. First things first and that kind of thing. What’s my part in Skagan’s plaster campaign?” She was a nurse again.

“You have to ask her. She made it quite clear this was her domain not to be interfered with by ongoing normal patient care.” Kaplan was now a good two feet away from her.

“Ask her? I’m terrified of her. The entire Queens Naval nursing corps except the OR supervisor shake when she walks by.” Sparrow looked around fearful of Skagan spies, if there were such things.

“You all give her too much power. She’s just a compulsive person who sees life as just black-and-white.” Kaplan looked behind her as his lunch relief corpsman appeared.

“Lieutenant I’m here for mess relief for Chief Kaplan.”

Sparrow looked at the rank on Kaplan’s sleeve. She’d forgotten he was a corpsman NCO.

“You’re Acky Spinelli from F-1 right? Well we have no outstanding problems on G-1 at least for the next hour. I’m expecting some people from engineering to do some work on our cast room. I’ll be back in exactly one hour.” Kaplan left Acky with Sparrow looking after him.

‡

Kaplan welcomed the lunchtime interruption. He didn’t mind Sparrow coming on to him. She was a beautiful woman and intelligent although he felt her terror of Skagan might be a character weakness. Then again he was an FBI agent and she wasn’t. Above all he didn’t want anything complicating his mission. He was human after all and he didn’t want Sparrow to interrupt the current good fortune with Skagan putting him in charge of the septic cast inventory.

‡

Remo got used to the smell in F-1within thirty-minutes. The ward full of colostomy patients had an atmosphere merged with the odors of rancid fecal colostomy bags with the Lysol disinfectant used to clean everything from the beds and floors to the furniture. His bed was closest to the Nurses Station since he was probably rated as the sickest patient on the floor. He pressed the button for the ward corpsman who came right over.

“Yes? You’re Remo. Is anything wrong?”

“Not with me right now. Where’s Acky?” Remo’s eyes darted around the ward.

“He’s doing chow relief at lunchtime. What can I do for you?”

“I just got moved from F-2. Will my visitors know about it? I’m expecting visitors today.” Remo could feel his pulse increase. He felt so powerless in his skeletonized shell of a body. Thank God for his Happy Hat. It always gave him a mental image of his former combat-molded self.

“The first thing F-2 did before you left there was notify the front desk about your new location.” The corpsman reset the call button and turned to leave.

“Wait. I’m not used to being stateside. Can you please check and make sure the front desk knows I’m on F-1?”

“I’ll do it right now. Relax Remo. This is the land-based Navy.” He walked to the Nurses Station and picked up the phone.

Remo watched and wished he could read lips.
Land-based Navy my ass. Never assume anything about rules. I would never get anywhere if I assumed things happened the way they were supposed to.
The corpsman was coming back.

“They have it right Remo. If you have visitors today they’ll be sent right here to colostomy heaven.” He went back to his chart island.

Colostomy heaven. My God I forgot. This place stinks. Thank God I can’t smell it. Here comes chow. I have to pig out every waking minute if I’m going to put some meat on my bones. I have to gain twenty-pounds the doc said to get my fucking colostomy closed.

‡

Perkins looked incredulously at Skagan. “What? Every Nam cast removal has to go to G-1?”

“From the next air-evac on, Perkins. They’ll be logged in by Chief Hospital Corpsman Kaplan on G-1.”

He watched the short nurse walk away.
Damn. Fuck. What the hell do I tell Linsky? Wait. It might be okay. Our plan was to change dates on casts to indicate they were not from Vietnam.

Perkins wanted to call from the hospital phone but was told never to do that. There was supposed to be a liaison person, a patient, and maybe a few other Queens Naval staff that could function as contacts that could get to the outside during the day. But that was for emergencies only.
Linsky should know about the G-1 thing.
I’ll call him tonight from my apartment.

Chapter 14

SGT Boomer Stiles

“Dr. Norman, Boomer is bugging everyone about being a prisoner on G-1.” LT Sparrow intercepted Norman as he walked onto the ward.

After several weeks Boomer had intense cabin fever. “Dr. Norman I feel like a prisoner in my own plaster skin. Why can’t I move around the hospital like the others here on G-1? Some of the hip-spica patients go to the movie, the coffee shop and the PX.”

“They’re not mummified like you. You’d have to be on a gurney with two people tending to you.” Norman could sympathize with this poor soul. After all he didn’t have an indwelling bladder catheter or IV like some of the more damaged body cast patients on other wards.

“If I can get a commitment from two others to tend to me will you get me a pass, sir?” His pleading eyes and expression from his facial plaster window got to Norman.

“I’ll check with Dr. Caruso and let you know later today.” Norman went to lunch and met with the resident and Caruso. He brought up Boomer’s request. Caruso didn’t hesitate.

“Psychologically it would be uplifting to get the poor bastard mobilized. His cast gets changed in about three weeks so if he can get two ambulatory patients to push the gurney around go for it.”

After lunch Norman gave the message to Boomer who was elated. He had already gotten commitment from several patients to be his gurney chauffeurs. The only one who voiced opposition was Kaplan.

“If Boomer falls from that gurney he could create displaced fractures under those casts, sir.” Kaplan spoke with an intensity Norman hadn’t seen in the corpsman before.

“Let’s give him a trial run to the coffee shop today. He’d have to fall from twenty feet to break that thick cast and create any damage. If he survives the Gedunk trip I’ll increase the scope of his world to other hospital destinations.” Norman watched the disappointment change to one of frustration on Kaplan’s face.

“Sir I can’t be following Boomer away from G-1 and I have other duties with LCDR Skagan with the cast material disposals.”

“Kaplan your duties are primarily to G-1. You’re not really assigned to one single patient. I had you assigned to G-1 to maintain your continuity of care–as you put it. In fact, I would rather Boomer not get dependent on one corpsman. Let him get his patient buddies to continue to relate to him as a fellow soldier. It will help alleviate any sense of depression we all know he has. This discussion is ended.”

SGT William Boomer Stiles was positioned on a gurney with a short sheet covering his groin cut-out. Ambulatory patients greeted him with a cheer while visitors gazed in pathos or with nods of encouragement. Most of the staff became used to seeing the “man-in-white” at the evening movie taking up two wheelchair slots. Kaplan was still skeptical but kept his words to himself as Boomer engaged in physical therapy off G-1 even though he only wiggled his toes and fingers as his mainstay exercise.

‡

Kaplan was angry at this lack of control with Boomer stiles. He called the number Adam Stokely had given him. It connected quickly to an FBI female voice.

“You have reached an FBI secure line. Please state your connection code.”

Kaplan complied. “IK Navy.” A low hum ensued and another connection sounded.

“Stokely here. You have something Kaplan?”

“Two things. This Navy Nurse Philomena Skagan has maneuvered all first Vietnam plaster cast removals to be sent to my ward–G-1–effective immediately. At the end of each month the civilian contractor will collect all sealed elements. Bookkeeping will be concentrated by Skagan and me.”

“Couldn’t be better. What’s the second thing?”

“My GMO LT Paul Norman is allowing my principal assignee SGT Boomer Stiles in a total body cast, to have free access beyond G-1.”

“Surely Stiles cannot be given leave from Queens Naval Hospital?”

“No, but he’s allowed off G-1 with two other patient escorts. I won’t be able to watch him on a twenty-four hour basis.”

“So what. From what we have so far Boomer Stiles is an innocent bystander in this. It’s his cast we have to follow and it seems you still have total control over that. Am I correct?” Stokely made a few notes.

“Correct. The thing is this LCDR Skagan seems to be able to pull the strings on the plaster cast disposals. I still place her high on the military list as possible lead cartel liaison.” Kaplan’s voice continued in whisper mode.

“Just concentrate on the cast material. Our resources from other military hospitals implicate a patient or visitor is or will be the key player in the hospital-to-civilian heroin movement. There might also be a few hospital corpsmen reporting to him so be wary of your peers. I don’t have names yet.”

“All right. I’ll continue to play my role but I really think I have to get close to Skagan. It might prove difficult because of her officer status.” Kaplan kept an eye on the paging lights. So far neither he nor any of his people of interest had been paged.

“Remember what I said. Look to a single patient as the military-to-civilian connection. In the meantime I’ll run a detailed background check on LCDR Philomena Skagan. Call me again whenever the need arises. I’ll keep in touch on my end.” Stokely disconnected.

How can I foster the interest in me from Skagan that LT Dina Sparrow has? Maybe I can use my college background as a door opener.

‡

Every patient liked Boomer Stiles. Two patients on the ward, moreover, had befriended Boomer. One was a mortar man who survived an attack on his position during a minor insertion and firefight at the North Vietnam-Cambodian border. A bullet fracturing his left forearm bones got him his ticket back to the states and to Queens Naval Hospital. The second was an artillery shell loader. Their big field piece had gotten stuck in a soft earthen junction next to a dense copse of low trees and he fractured his femur when a load of shells fell on him. He was in his second long leg cast.

“Okay Boomer we’re headed to the Gedunk. Wanna come with us?” Mortar man Angelo Novo’s short forearm cast did not need a sling. “We’ll get a gurney that’ll pass through any doorway in this place.”

Boomer was an Army man but he learned that the Gedunk was just a name for Navy canteen. It was like a combination soda, sandwich and coffee shop. He had already asked Kaplan about it.

“Hey Ike some of these guys are going to a Gedunk. What the hell’s a Gedunk? I asked someone yesterday and he told me it was a Navy whore house. Everyone laughed. C’mon Ike what the hell is a Gedunk?”

“All right Boomer. On a Navy ship they have a soda shop where you sit, have a soda, coffee or have a sandwich. There’s no booze and no women.”

Boomer laughed. “No women. What’s that mean?”

“I mean on a Navy ship there are no women unless you’re on a hospital ship. The Gedunk is just a Navy label for a coffee shop for military personnel. Here at Queens Naval or any Navy land-based facility there are no women solicitors–no hookers. However, you can go to the Gedunk with your family or a female visitor.” Kaplan gave Boomer a serious look. “But your destinations are limited until you get out of your plaster turtle shell Boomer.”

And now SGT Boomer Stiles had permission from Norman to head to the Navy oasis known as the Gedunk. He could even go to the nightly movie. That is if he had two fit ambulatory patients to steer his gurney.

“Dr. Norman said I need two guys to get out of G-1.” Boomer smiled through his plaster facial window at his two friends.

“Meaghan will be glad to be the second gurney pusher.” Novo returned the smile.

They got as far as the Nurses Station when Kaplan stopped them. “You three guys forget something?” Kaplan held up a clipboard.

Novo reached for it. “Hey Ike. We were just goin’ to sign out. We’re goin to the Gedunk.”

“Boomer can sign if you hold the clipboard and move it around his writing hand.” Kaplan gave the trio his serious tone. “If any damage comes to Boomer’s cast all three of you are confined to G-1 for a week.”

“Whaddya mean? We all get dents in our casts.” Meaghan looked from Novo to Kaplan.

“Boomer still has his original Nam cast on. It has Nam germs. It one single germ gets loose in this compound you three are all in trouble.”

Novo was the leader. “Don’t worry Ike. We’re expert gurney drivers.”

Kaplan watched them disappear out the G-1 entrance.
How the hell am I going to find out who the patient liaison for the heroin hospital smuggling ring is?

‡

Perkins dreamt about money–money from heroin impregnated plaster.
That bitch Skagan had to go and centralize depoting the casts from all new air-evac arrivals.
He didn’t know if he was feeling powerless because of the cute bitch nurse or maybe it was that Kaplan was really the one in charge once the wrapped plaster shells reached G-1. He needed a plan to intercept the new orthopedic air-evacs invoice rosters and change the site of cast application from Viet Nam to either the Philippines or Japan.