Love Endures War: Part 2

Tender love in a Wounded Seventies America.

Based on a post by want some fun 1951. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

The five of us, Joey’s parents and mine; flew to California to meet the ship that brought Joey home. We didn't get to see him at the dock. He was whisked into an ambulance that we tried to follow in our rental car.

At the hospital, his doctor took us to his office. Joey had been shot and captured. His injuries weren't life-threatening, and they stopped the bleeding at a Viet Cong field hospital. He was taken to a prison camp for debriefing.

"We're all adults here, and I believe in telling the truth, so I'll be blunt," the army doc said. "To the Viet Cong running that camp, 'debriefing' meant torture until they decided if a prisoner knew something useful, followed by long periods of confinement. Joey was a rank-and-file infantryman, so he wasn't very useful to them, but they kept him alive as a bargaining chip.

"American soldiers came to take the camp, and there was a fire-fight. Our guys were prepared, and the Cong ran out of ammo. They apparently tried to beat their captives to death when they knew the camp would to be taken. Private Ramsey sustained a severe skull fracture. When he was liberated from the camp, he was in a coma, nearly dead of starvation and exposure. He's much better now. Recovering nicely. With hard work, he should make further improvements. We're keeping him sedated, but you may see him for a minute each."

I was allowed to go first. A nurse led me to a window that looked into his room. I could hardly recognize him through the bandages on his head. Tubes, wire, bottles, and bags were everywhere. He had a cast on one leg, where surgeons had repaired the badly-healed fractures from his initial wound. His other leg had scars from long-healed sores. Skinny arms extended from his hospital gown, tubes in both of them between old cigarette burns. Always so big and strong, my darling looked like he was half his old size. He had a tube down his nose, and he was out cold.

We walked into his room. "Talk to him, honey," the nurse said. "He's in deep sedation, but some patients say they remember things when they wake up."

"Joey? Joey, it's Sue."

His chest rose and fell slowly.

"Joey? You're home now. Well, not home. You're in a hospital in California. We came to visit, me, my folks and your parents."

"Time's almost up, honey," the nurse whispered.

"I love you, Joey," I said as I backed out of room.

We stayed for a week, visiting him for a minute apiece each morning, afternoon, and evening. The day before our flight home, the doctor met us in the waiting room outside Intensive Care. "I have good news. Private Ramsey is showing excellent improvement. He's doing well enough that we've lowered his medication. He's in a "twilight" sleep now. He hasn't opened his eyes or spoken, but I believe that's coming. We'll be able to make arrangements to transfer him to a Veterans Administration hospital near your home soon."

That day, it was Marge's turn to go in first. She spent her full minute in his room holding his hand and crying. When Joe went in, he sat close to his son's head, telling him he would be home soon. Then it was my turn.

"He's asleep, Sue, but talk to him," Joe said when I passed him in the doorway.

"Joey, it's me, Sue. I'll be with you a lot more soon, when you're in a hospital near home. I've missed you so much, Joey." I laid my hand on his outstretched one and held it, like I had every time we visited.

This time, he made a noise.

"Nurse, he's talking!"

"He's been doing that ever since last night. He's probably feeling some discomfort from his latest surgery now, so there's a little moaning."

"Oh," Joey whispered. "Oh. Oh."

"What's that, honey? Are you in pain?" I asked.

"Oh. Oh. Ess." He worked his tongue around in his mouth. " Saw, Sue."

"Yes, Joey, it's me. It's Sue!"

His hand twitched, like he was trying to squeeze mine the way I was squeezing his. He whispered "Sue" again. Then he slept.

By the time he was transferred to the local VA hospital two weeks later, Joey was awake a lot of the time. He didn't talk much, and when he did, he seemed confused. The staff said rehabilitation would take a long time. Because of his head injuries and the deplorable conditions in which he had been imprisoned for so long, we should be prepared for only a partial recovery.

The first day I went to see him, he was propped up in bed, asleep, but facing the TV. I pulled up a chair and sat next to his head. "Joey, can you wake up?"

His eyes flickered for a moment, and when they opened, I saw fear.

"It's me, Sue. I came to see you."

"Sue. Sue. Why am I here?"

"You were injured in the war. You were in a prison camp, but now you're in the VA hospital near home."

"Oh. Why are you here?"

"I came to see you. Do you want me to go?"

"No. Stay. Don't leave me."

Every day after I was done with student teaching, I went to the hospital to be with him. Every day, he was better, until one night about a week before my birthday. He was agitated that evening.

"What's wrong, honey? You seem upset," I said.

"Your birthday is next week. I can't go buy you a present," he said.

"That's okay. Getting you back is the best present in the world."

"You don't understand. I can't go get you a present because I can't walk. I haven't walked in years. That cage they kept me in was too small to let me stand up, even if my leg had healed right. I went to physical therapy today. My legs are so weak I can't stand on my own. How can I ever get a job and go to a store to buy things for you if I'm like that?"

"It doesn't matter. You're alive, and you're with me again. I don't need anything else."

"No. I'm no good to you now. I'm a broken-down wreck. You need a man."

"I have a man."

"I'm not a man. I'm an invalid."

"You're a patient. You were shot. They tortured you and kept you in a tiny bamboo cage for years. You were near death from starvation. The bastards fractured your skull. It's going to take time for you to recover."

"You shouldn't have waited for me. I don't know why you're here. Why aren't you married and having babies?"

"I don't want to be married to anyone but you. I don't want any babies but yours."

When visiting hours were over, I kissed him, like always. Joey really kissed me back for the first time.

The next day, he was sitting in a chair. "I have to pee," was the first thing he said.

"Do you want me to help you to the bathroom?"

"No, you can't do that."

"They tell me you can bear some weight on your good leg. We can probably get you there."

"No, Sue, I can't let you do that. Find an orderly."

"Joey, I'm strong enough if you'll help me."

"Don't you get it? I have to pee! I need someone to help me onto the toilet. I can't let you do that," Joey protested. "Now please, go find a man to help me."

I came back into the room with a burly orderly, but Joey was adamant that I wait in the hallway while they took care of things. "I can't hold onto him and the railing and still keep my gown closed. Please, Sue, respect my privacy."

When the orderly left the room, I went back in. "I didn't mean to embarrass you," I said.

"It's okay. It just wouldn't have been proper for you to see me with my skinny butt hanging out of this stupid gown."

"I understand, Joey, but someday, I'll see that skinny butt in bed next to me."

"What?"

"When we're married, silly."

"You don't want to marry me, Sue. I'm not the man you fell in love with."

"I didn't fall in love with a man. I fell in love with a boy who once let me beat him arm-wrestling. I fell in love with the boy who danced with me to "Moon River." I fell in love with the guy who gave me this," I said, pulling my precious locket out from where it was hidden by my sweater. "I'm in love with a man now. You, Joey."

"But I'm not the same man."

"Yes you are. Whatever you can or can't do, I love you." I leaned down and kissed him. Joey kissed me back pretty hard, the way he did a couple of times the night before he left for the war.

When we let go, tears rolled down his cheeks. "I'm going down to physical therapy tomorrow, and I'll work until I'm healthy enough to take care of you, if you still want me."

On Easter Sunday morning, Mom, Dad, and I piled into the back of Joe and Marge's car to meet Joey for services at the hospital chapel. He...