Tuesday, October 05, 2004
WELCOME TO FITZSIMMONS...APRIL 1980....
Once everything was in readiness the DC-9 took off and gave us quite a thrill. I guess my eyes showed my surprise at how quickly we were airborne. A young troop was sitting by me and he said, “Mam….these Med-Evacs take off with a bang. They have to get airborne fast in hostile territory and these pilots are quite good at what they do. We call them Medical Jocky’s………they pride themselves in getting up and out, fast.” I’m sure we were at cruising altitude within seconds…..it seemed we climbed straight up forever before the plane leveled off and began it’s normal flight.
I watched the hospital fall from view and the hills and trees, below. Once at proper altitude the engines were at peace with their environment. We flew from Fort Wood to Fort Riley, Kansas with the same altitude drop and sudden landing as we experienced in “take-off” before. From the window I could see them loading more patients to go to Fitzsimmons, as we were. As soon as the last person was on board we took off with the same sudden precision as the first time.
I was impressed by a Med-Evac Nurse that efficiently passed from patient to patient, administering medication at the proper time for each. She had a distinct English accent and she told someone within hearing range of me that she was with the RAF from England. There was a program where medical personnel were traded back and forth for training in her field of duty. She loved being in the States and would be going back to England when her tour was up. Of course, her uniform indicated her English background as well as her conversation.
We landed at the Denver airport where we were slowly and carefully loaded on buses to go to the hospital. On the ride over, I was in a bus with every kind of medical need imaginable. One woman (a dependent) was wearing a turban covering her bald head. She had cancer and was coming to “Fitz” for further treatment. There were amputees, disfigured that were coming for plastic surgery, a man with no chin….eaten away with cancer….internal needs and ones coming for open heart surgery. There were only a couple, like myself, who were coming as caretakers and support.
Fitzsimmons Army Hospital had a rich and proud history. It was so named after First Lieutenant William Thomas Fitzsimmons, Medical Officer’s Reserve Corps, the first American officer to die as a result of enemy action in WW1. He was born April 18,1889 in Burlington, Kansas. He received his doctor of medicine degree in 1912 at KU….Lawrence, Kansas. He served as a medical officer to the American Red Cross in Europe, during 1914-1915. When he returned to America he applied for a commission in the Army Reserve and practiced medicine in Kansas City.
When the U.S. entered WW1 he was called to active duty. Volunteering for overseas duty he left Kansas City on June 14, 1917 and was one of the first American medical officers to arrive in Europe. He was assigned to a U.S. Army Base Hospital No. 5, which was attached to the British forces near Dannes-Camiers, France.
On the evening of September 4, 1917 he and a friend were just walking back from dinner when they both agreed the beautiful, clear and cloudless night was a good night for a bombing attack. Less than 5-minutes later, about 11pm, an aerial bomb struck his tent, killing him instantly. He was 28-years old at the time.
Less than a year later, the hospital which was to bear his name was established and on July, 1920, the hospital became known as Fitzsimmons General Hospital, by direction of the War Department.
The hospital has undergone many changes, good and bad since then, and when we were unloaded from the Army bus, I was staying close to Warren’s gurney because I didn’t want to get separated from him. One of the orderlies told me he was being taken to a room and I would need to go to Information and get my room reserved at the Guest House. I married Warren after he was retired from the military so it was my first induction to operate with military thinking. I could see it would be up to me to get myself situated and I’d better get with the program. Of course I was feeling inadequate but I also knew I didn’t have time to humor my fears.
With some frustration and determination I managed to get my luggage, get to the Guest House, which was a hefty walk from the hospital, and get back to the hospital to find Warren. At first he was out in the bay area until the Officer in Charge came around, lifted the covers and took a look………..he yelled at some orderlies to “get him out of here in a separate room….he’s septic.” We ended up in an inner room…no windows, more like a broom closet. It was a far cry from the penthouse at Leonard Wood but my intent was to get the job done….no matter what.
We looked at each other, took in a deep breath, and he said, “Boy!! I’m sure glad you’re here.” I put a fake smile on my face and said, “me too.” That part was true. I wanted to be with Warren ……..but the accommodations left a little to be desired. The afternoon was spent with a parade of medics, orderlies, and nurses who asked the same questions over and over. Necessary, of course. After the flight out and the scramble to get settled, we were pretty well spent. I stayed with him quite late and then walked back to the Guest House. Sleep came quickly…..in the middle of my prayers…….
Until tomorrow,
Essentially Esther
I watched the hospital fall from view and the hills and trees, below. Once at proper altitude the engines were at peace with their environment. We flew from Fort Wood to Fort Riley, Kansas with the same altitude drop and sudden landing as we experienced in “take-off” before. From the window I could see them loading more patients to go to Fitzsimmons, as we were. As soon as the last person was on board we took off with the same sudden precision as the first time.
I was impressed by a Med-Evac Nurse that efficiently passed from patient to patient, administering medication at the proper time for each. She had a distinct English accent and she told someone within hearing range of me that she was with the RAF from England. There was a program where medical personnel were traded back and forth for training in her field of duty. She loved being in the States and would be going back to England when her tour was up. Of course, her uniform indicated her English background as well as her conversation.
We landed at the Denver airport where we were slowly and carefully loaded on buses to go to the hospital. On the ride over, I was in a bus with every kind of medical need imaginable. One woman (a dependent) was wearing a turban covering her bald head. She had cancer and was coming to “Fitz” for further treatment. There were amputees, disfigured that were coming for plastic surgery, a man with no chin….eaten away with cancer….internal needs and ones coming for open heart surgery. There were only a couple, like myself, who were coming as caretakers and support.
Fitzsimmons Army Hospital had a rich and proud history. It was so named after First Lieutenant William Thomas Fitzsimmons, Medical Officer’s Reserve Corps, the first American officer to die as a result of enemy action in WW1. He was born April 18,1889 in Burlington, Kansas. He received his doctor of medicine degree in 1912 at KU….Lawrence, Kansas. He served as a medical officer to the American Red Cross in Europe, during 1914-1915. When he returned to America he applied for a commission in the Army Reserve and practiced medicine in Kansas City.
When the U.S. entered WW1 he was called to active duty. Volunteering for overseas duty he left Kansas City on June 14, 1917 and was one of the first American medical officers to arrive in Europe. He was assigned to a U.S. Army Base Hospital No. 5, which was attached to the British forces near Dannes-Camiers, France.
On the evening of September 4, 1917 he and a friend were just walking back from dinner when they both agreed the beautiful, clear and cloudless night was a good night for a bombing attack. Less than 5-minutes later, about 11pm, an aerial bomb struck his tent, killing him instantly. He was 28-years old at the time.
Less than a year later, the hospital which was to bear his name was established and on July, 1920, the hospital became known as Fitzsimmons General Hospital, by direction of the War Department.
The hospital has undergone many changes, good and bad since then, and when we were unloaded from the Army bus, I was staying close to Warren’s gurney because I didn’t want to get separated from him. One of the orderlies told me he was being taken to a room and I would need to go to Information and get my room reserved at the Guest House. I married Warren after he was retired from the military so it was my first induction to operate with military thinking. I could see it would be up to me to get myself situated and I’d better get with the program. Of course I was feeling inadequate but I also knew I didn’t have time to humor my fears.
With some frustration and determination I managed to get my luggage, get to the Guest House, which was a hefty walk from the hospital, and get back to the hospital to find Warren. At first he was out in the bay area until the Officer in Charge came around, lifted the covers and took a look………..he yelled at some orderlies to “get him out of here in a separate room….he’s septic.” We ended up in an inner room…no windows, more like a broom closet. It was a far cry from the penthouse at Leonard Wood but my intent was to get the job done….no matter what.
We looked at each other, took in a deep breath, and he said, “Boy!! I’m sure glad you’re here.” I put a fake smile on my face and said, “me too.” That part was true. I wanted to be with Warren ……..but the accommodations left a little to be desired. The afternoon was spent with a parade of medics, orderlies, and nurses who asked the same questions over and over. Necessary, of course. After the flight out and the scramble to get settled, we were pretty well spent. I stayed with him quite late and then walked back to the Guest House. Sleep came quickly…..in the middle of my prayers…….
Until tomorrow,
Essentially Esther
