he decided right then and there to write a testimonial to the manufacturer and thank them for their quality construction.
Grant was gingerly carried from the aircraft by a team of caring nurses. He was transported to the base hospital at Da Nang for treatment, prior to stateside evacuation. The corpse of Tsgt Byron was also removed from the helicopter and transported to the morgue, where it would remain until transportation could be arranged for the remains to be shipped back to the U.S.A. The grisly reality of war hit Jeremy right between his eyes. How unfair, he thought, this poor man died trying to save my life. Grant decided to write a thank-you letter to the family of Tsgt Byron.
The physical carnage had been too much for Jeremy’s system. He was examined, probed and prodded for seven days prior to being returned to California. It would take nearly four months to recover from his wounds and tropical parasites he had picked up in the jungles of Vietnam. His entire body had a strange green tinge to it. He had quarter size, puss-infected sores throughout most of his body. His right shoulder had been partially dislocated by Major Dong and Jeremy suffered from malaria, amebic dysentery and a number of other jungle diseases. Jeremy was amazed that his body could even function after such punishment.
All of these dreams about Vietnam, and San Francisco reinforced his longing for a quieter life. He could not get his mind off San Francisco and Loretta, his one true love. Just when Jeremy began to doze off again, Khalil came to his tent and woke him up.
“Hey Jeremy! What is wrong with you? Are you okay?” asked Khalil, the leader of all mujahidin forces in this neighborhood.
“My men tell me that you have been screaming and talking all night.” Are you having flashbacks?” asked a concerned Khalil.
“Yes, you might say that. I am having a dream within a dream, and I am having a difficult time focusing on reality. Thank you for your concern, Khalil,” replied a now awake Jeremy Grant.
“Well, maybe you should tell me what happened from the point I awakened you. It might relieve the pressure on your brain,” smiled a gracious Khalil.
“Okay, why don’t you come in and share some coffee with me, and I’ll try to explain what was causing all those dreams.”
Both men sat down, and Jeremy began recounting his San Francisco experience.
Jeremy crossed his legs, and began telling Khalil that his return to San Francisco had not been a pleasant one and it held many strong memories. With a little prodding from Khalil, Jeremy began to recount his tale. Jeremy started his story from the day he found himself sitting in his hospital room.
Jeremy still had strong feelings about this city and wondered whether or not he could endure many months of solitude at the Presidio. Jeremy’s arrival this time around was less confrontational than his first stay, but somehow he missed the excitement. He pensively recalled the last four months since his capture and escape. His mind wandered between the horror of confinement and the thrill of escape and freedom. The whole thing had a surrealistic feeling to it. His body told him, you are sitting in a nice comfortable chair; gazing out at San Francisco Bay. His mind however, said, you are still sitting in that rotten little cell, watching the green millipede slowly crawling across the dirt floor.
Grant was suddenly awakened by his doctor, CPT Loretta Q. DeFaut, USA MC. Loretta DeFaut, a stunning brunette from Baton Rouge, Louisiana, was concerned about this rather quiet and withdrawn soldier. She went out of her way to spend time visiting him every day.
“Good morning, CPT Grant, “How are you this fine morning?”
Loretta asked with concern in her voice.
Jeremy slowly turned his head toward the sound of the voice and said, “Uh, uh, good morning, doctor. I guess, okay, thanks.”
“How is that shoulder? Feeling better?” CPT De Faut asked, as she walked over and gingerly examined his still bruised and swollen shoulder.
“Yeah, I guess so. Hey, Doc, how long do I have to stay in this cage? I am feeling a little confined, and would love to get out of here and get plastered at the ‘O club.’, I have some old buddies to look up,” Jeremy blurted out.
“Oh my, you must be feeling better, but I can’t honestly release you for at least two more weeks.”
“You got to be kidding; I will go crazy in this place,” shouted Jeremy!
“I am honestly disappointed, captain. You survived over three months under the worst possible conditions and can’t last a few comfortable weeks in my care,” CPT De Faut chided him.
Jeremy was slightly embarrassed, and sheepishly looked away; trying to recover his composure.
“Uh, excuse me, doctor. I am sorry, this has nothing to do with you. I am restless and need to get out among people,” Jeremy answered
“Okay, okay, I’ll compromise; I’ll see if I can get you a three-day pass next week,” CPT De Faut promised with a smile.
Loretta was amazed at her strong feelings for Jeremy, but he never seemed to care or pick up on the strong animal magnetism she was transmitting. Loretta came from Baton Rouge, Louisiana, and still had a rather cute Cajun accent. Her physical attributes were stunning, to say the least. God and “Mother Nature” had blessed her with a rather voluptuous figure. At five-feet-eight and one hundred and forty pounds, she wasn’t one of those skinny looking model types. She was extremely proud of the fact that she strongly resembled the sexy 40s-50s screen siren Jane Russell, Howard Hughes’s ex-femme fatale. To the dismay of her colleagues and superiors she knowingly wore rather provocative hospital gowns and revealing uniforms. Loretta firmly believed that “a little bit of femininity was the only thing those poor wounded returning veterans needed. “I am determined to do my patriotic duty,” she would teasingly whisper to her shocked fellow doctors. She had won the “Miss Baton Rouge” and “Miss Louisiana” contests, and was bound and determined to proudly display her ribbons, trophies and many attributes. It was easy to see why she was the most popular doctor in the hospital.
She realized that her interest in the young Special Forces captain was not just professional courtesy and patriotic duty. Jeremy reminded her of a long-lost boyfriend she once had. He had also been a quiet, sulking and solitude seeking individual. Major Beauregard “Beau” Armstrong Lee, had been a hot-shot Air Force pilot with 89 missions under his belt. At twenty-eight years old, he had been one of the youngest fighter aces in Vietnam. Unfortunately, his luck ran out, and he was shot down over North Vietnam and never heard from again. Like so many other M.I.A. (Missing in Action) families, Lorretta had hoped that someday, her “Beau” would be found safe in some POW camp, but as the months turned into years, she slowly accepted the fact that he would never be coming home.
Her professional training told her that this young soldier needed more than just medical care. She sensed an air of desperation and loneliness in this quiet and withdrawn human being. Although she tried every trick in the book, CPT Jeremy Grant totally ignored her advances. She realized that he was suffering from a variety of both mental and physical stresses, but he refused to cooperate with her demands to see one of the psychiatric counselors.
Well, she thought, If he’s too stupid to get the hint, maybe I’ll make him walk and exercise himself back to reality.
She informed him that he needed
