In 1974, 28 years after the 92nd Evacuation Hospital had been disbanded, almost half of the original members of that august group met again at a reunion in Wakeeney, Kansas, organized by their second chaplain, Father Kilian Dreiling. They continued to meet every two or three years in Kansas, Colorado, Indiana, North Dakota, Kentucky, and Florida. At each reunion there were fewer and fewer left, and dementia claimed of some of the remaining ones. The last reunion was held in 2002 in Montana, and 11 veterans were able to attend. Now no doctors or other officers are alive, only four nurses, and probably fewer than 10 enlisted men, according to nurse Althea Williams, or Little Willie as she was called in the 92nd. I asked Little Willie for some of her recollections.
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| Capt. Eugene Pfile and 2nd Lt. Althea Williams on Owi |
Little Willie grew up in Colorado the youngest of three brothers and a sister. She received her R.N in 1941 from Beth-El School of Nursing in Colorado Springs (now it is affiliated with Colorado University Colorado Springs), and shortly thereafter joined the Army Nurse Corps when the call came for volunteers. She joined the group that later became the 92nd Evacuation Hospital while they were in the Desert Training Center. She had a
connection with
Capt. Pfile: he had delivered her nephew in Trinidad, Colorado a couple of years earlier. Later she had a connection with me: when I was pregnant with my daughter, I exercised in the swimming pool with Althea at her condominium. After WWII she used the GI Bill to get her masters in Hospital Administration, rejoined the army, served in the Korean and Vietnam Wars, and at one time was one of the highest ranking women in the army, attaining the rank of Colonel. Little Willie was a much-sought-after umpire during the softball games organized while the 92nd Evac was in Australia. She maintained impartiality like all good umps (although Fr. Dreiling at the first reunion claimed she cheated for the enlisted men), so when Lt. Col. Robert Sterling, a good-looking young doctor with a good-sized ego, ignored a ball in the strike zone, she called it his third strike and he was out. He was pretty upset. A few years later an enlisted man with the 41st Infantry who had been watching the game recalled the incident to Little Willie and the soldiers around him with much glee.
Some doctors were moved around by the army, such as Gene's good friend, George Christie, who had made the mistake of taking some extra training in medical administration to fend off boredom at the Desert Training Center, and was sent to Hollandia when the others went to the Philippines. The body of the hospital, though, was able to remain intact (the head was changed several times!), which led to a cohesiveness and loyalty that some of the other units never knew.
Here are a few stories that were recorded in the booklet compiled by Ed Gray (Medical Administration Corps) for the 50th reunion of the 92nd Evac. About twenty-five 92nd veterans attended. My father, Gene Pfile, had regrettably passed away three years earlier, or some of his stories could have been included.
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Gene Pfile and Ed Gray at the 1974 Reunion of the 92nd
Evacuation Hospital in Wakeeney, Kansas |
Some recollections of Dr. Joe Davis, who joined the 92nd as a 1st Lieutenant:
Speaking of being obnoxious, our Commanding Officer [while at the Desert Center] was a Lieutenant Colonel Matthews, a regular Army Officer, who did not particularly endear himself with the rest of us. Many of the officers had wives in the Indio-Palm Springs area. Once a week, on Friday mornings, we were allowed to ride into Indio in the 92nd's Carry-all, where we had two hours free time before the vehicle came back to camp. Of course, the Colonel would go into town whenever he pleased to see his wife. When we received our orders to go overseas, the Colonel developed an acute case of "Gangplank Fever" and turned himself into Tourney general Hospital in Palm Springs and we never heard of him again. ...
I served as receiving officer, in charge of admitting and discharging the patients. One morning , we admitted a big black soldier from the Laundry Battalion at Fort Huachuka, Arizona. Soon after he was admitted, he returned to the receiving tent, asking for a pass to go back to his outfit. We told him that no passes were issued from our hospital, but he kept insisting that it was urgent that he be allowed to return for a short period. He explained, "When I left this morning, I left all of my gear on my bunk. If I don't go right back there, there will be nothing left. Those guys back there are SOLDIERS man, they're SOLDIERS! I gotta go!" I gave him his pass. ...
I remember Ed Gray
making Jap flags by painting red circles on bed sheets with Mercurochrome and bartering these for meat on the liberty ships that came into our harbor. ...
One day, we admitted a dark-skinned young man in fatigue clothing. The Filipino ward lady who was undressing him and helping him into bed tried to speak to him in Tagalog dialect, but he did not respond. Thinking that he was from a different area, she called over to one of out Filipino ward men , and said, "Joe - Ilocarno!" Joe came over and spoke Ilocarno to the soldier, again with no response. I looked at the soldier's dog-tag. He was an American Indian from Montana.
A recollection of Ken Rattle, an enlisted man from Wisconsin: There was one time that one of the nurses caused me a little inconvenience. This particular incident happened while I was in charge of sanitation at Rockhampton, Australia. We used honey buckets there in the latrines. We had both male and female latrines. Also, nurses and male showers. The nurses had their own, and the enlisted men and officers had theirs. It took five or six enlisted men each day on this detail. The nurses shower area was a wooden-framed building covered with canvas, with shower heads inside, of course. It was my duty to check all latrines and showers each morning, for the necessary supplies. If I remember, the nurses had to be done with the shower room at a certain time each morning, so I could do my duties. I don't know if I jumped the gun, or my watch was wrong. Whatever happened, I walked into the shower room and low and behold, there was a nurse in there showering. I froze for a second, then I quietly backed out of the door hoping that she did not see me. I don't think she did, as she was pretty well soaped up. It was in sort of a wooded area, so I quietly tip-toed away. After I came to my senses, I realized that I did not recognize her all soaped up. So, I had to make myself scarce, yet stay in the area so I could identify her when she went back to her quarters. It worked. I knew who she was. I probably felt as embarrassed as she.
A recollection of Jim Colvin, (called "Wogee" (for warrant officer, junior grade) by Little Willie): We settled down in some cottages in Bagio and went about establishing our hospital. While there, about the first or second night I created a situation which could have led to my demise by my fellow officers but cooler heads prevailed and my brains were preserved. I was sleeping, safely ensconced in my cot enclosed by a net, when I was awakened by a squeaking sound. I immediately turned on my flashlight and lo and behold, there was a rat - a very large rat - boldly sitting on top of a rocking chair swaying back and forth. His eyes looked like balls of fire and his teeth were bared in a grin that sent shivers up and down my spine. I hastily put out my flashlight - to let him do his thing - I'd stayed quietly and safely under the net. No more than five minutes later, while in semi-stupor, I felt an animal - a rat specifically - tripping the light fantastic through my hair, which is quite a feat considering that I was then, as now, practically bald. I let out a whoop that could have been heard for miles and the battle was on as to whether the rat or myself made it out of the bed first. Naturally everyone in the cottage, burst furiously out of their beds, grabbing any kind of weapon, shouting and screaming "Who's attacking us?" When it was ascertained that I was the "attacker" there was almost an on-the-spot execution, but fortunately cooler heads prevailed.
Dr. Richard McIlroy recounted a funny story about Dr. Ray Nethery: We had with us a much-loved Captain, a very brave man, but also a great actor. His bravery shone in New Guinea, but his acting surfaced in Rockhampton where we were stationed next to the 5th station Hospital which had a hypnotizing dentist. We also had with us one Pete, a rump sprung stumpy who was always a day late and a dollar short. He had seen the dentist at work and was sure he could emulate him and was proclaiming it, loudly, to our group.
"Okay," said the Captain, "hypnotize me."
Pete went to work with incantations and fluttering hands. In a moment, the captain, fixed in a stony stare, got up and strode out to his tent. Once inside, he grabbed a tube of toothpaste and came out frothing at the mouth, waving a stick and yelling, "I've got to kill some body!"
Down the street he ran with Pete after him shouting, "Captain! Captain! Wake up!" to no avail. Finally the Captain fell to the ground, tripped by a tent rope into a believable convulsion. Frantically Pete cried, "Baldy, speak to me!"
Tiring from the convulsions, Baldy lay still while sweat ran off Pete's brow. Then, loving hands picked him up to put him on his cot where he slowly awakened. Pete brought him his breakfast in bed for a week.
Ed Gray, mentioned by Dr. Davies, modestly gave someone else the credit for making flags: At Biak Jake was the creator of the Jap flag operation in which we painted with mecurochrome red circles on pieces of silk parachute and traded them to the Navy. Jake was the chief food scrounger and was a firm believer that any method which produced the desired result was perfectly okay. He was unbeatable in bartering, stealing and was not above blackmail - if required. He secured more material and food for the 92nd than any other person, and at no time did he do so for his personal benefit. In the end he was busted and sent home. I have tried, but have not been able to find him.
Nurse "Griffie" McCully remembered the untiring work of the ward men on Owi during the scrub typhus outbreak: One very important thing I remember was the ward men who took such good care of the very, very sick patients with Typhus, carrying water from the bay to soak the sheets put around the patients to bring their temps down. This is just one of the many, many chores they performed with such grace and energy. ... I remember with love, the people of the 92nd Evacuation Hospital Unit of WWII.
Joseph S. Smith, son of 92nd Evac veteran, Joseph T. Smith or Smitty, wrote a book about the chaplain who was with the 92nd Evac for much of their time overseas (and who organized the first reunions) entitled Our Padre: the Inspiring Life and Stories of Fr. Kilian Dreiling, C.PP.S WWII Army Chaplain. His last chapter tells about the first reunion. "It soon became apparent that there was a beautiful spirit being rekindled among the 92nd veterans. This same spirit, which had been present 30 years ago, had gone almost unnoticed until now. Only now, with hindsight filtered by time, could they really recognize it and appreciate it. They had not just survived the war, they had labored together in miserable conditions to save thousands of lives. Together, they had made their corner of the world a better place."
May God bless all of the people who have served our country, and their families, on this Memorial Day!
