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HOSPITAL SHIP IN THE SOUTH WEST PACIFIC

RELEASED FOR PRESS PUBLICATION

S/SGT CROCKER (Date Unknown)

Note: Article incomplete.

The U. S. Army Hospital Ship “Maetsuycker” steamed northward on a mission which would take it deeper into the Southwest Pacific combat zone than any other hospital ship had ever traveled.   Its snow white hull constructed vividly against the deep blue of the Pacific Ocean off the New Guinea coast as it pushed on toward Biak Isl., at that time the newest battle field in the Southwest Pacific.  On the horizon appeared the funnel of an equally white ship with her general red cross standing out boldly against the white.  It was the “Tasman” heading south laden with wounded men.     

Coming within signaling distance, the “Tasman” proudly flashed from her bridge the simple message, “371 patients”–a fine boast for such a little ship.     

“Fine”, the “Maetsuycker” instantly blinked back.  “We’re going to Biak

There was no answer, but personnel on the “Maetsuycker” could see the white “Tasman” turn a pale green from envy, for a trip to Biak in that stage of the Pacific war was no mean feat.     

The rivalry between the “Maetsuycker” and the “Tasman” is a friendly one.  They were the first hospital ships to be used by U. S. forces in the S. W. P.; both were converted from Dutch steam packets formerly berthed in the N. E. I.   Since the “Tasman” and the “Maetsuycker” first pioneered the lines of Water evacuation in the S. W. P. over 20 other hospital ships have been assigned to this theatre.     

This job evacuation battle casualties from the contested beaches of the  S. W. P. has taken the “Maetsuycker” to every base the American forces have established along the road to Tokyo.  The nature of the war in this theatre demands that all sick and wounded be evacuated by air or water, thus the hospital ship plays more than the mere medico-military text book role of transporting patients from a secure-from-the-enemy port to which they have been evacuated by or ambulance, to the zone of the interior.  Here in the island to island war, the hospital ship travels in the very way of the task forces as the latter strike out at new targets and establish new beachheads on enemy shores.  The ships take the patients direct from the din of battle into the pleasant surroundings of a modern hospital afloat, where medical treatment equals that afforded by any land installation and can be speedily administered.     

At Hollandia the “Maetsuycker” was so near the scene of action that personnel aboard could see the flash of battle and hear the thunder of the guns. At Aitape nurses, temporarily off duty from the “Maetsuycker”, were swimming in the warm waters of Sissane Lagoon while American planes bombed and strafed nearby enemy positions.  The “ Maetsuycker” was the first hospital ship at Aitape, Biak and Hollandia.  She evacuated soldiers, sailors, and Marines from Cape Gloucester and the Admiralties.  She has accompanied our forces to the Phillippines to evacuate wounded men to intermediate base hospitals in New Guinea.  One night, with her lights blazing in the thick darkness of the Pacific, she sailed right into the middle of a blacked-out Navy task force sneaking up on the Japanese fleet.  The admiral commanding the force fussed and fumed at what he termed the “Coney Island” barging on his ships.     

That incident was, of course, exceptional.  For the hospital ship, although enjoying immunity from attack under provisions of the Geneva Convention, approach legitimate targets at its own risk.  Even when taking patients aboard it will ordinarily remain at such a distance from other vessels that it is not likely to be struck accidentally by bombs or shells aimed at warships.     

The “Maetsuycker” is a small ship, but that is an advantage, for it permits her to better negotiate dangerous shoals and coral reefs which are prevalent around most of the Pacific Islands and allows her to go in closer to the beaches in order to take on her patients.     

Once when she ran aground in shallow of the Manus Islands, she simply waited a few hours then floated free with the incoming tide.  No stranger to the islands, the “Maetsuycker” before the war was in the passenger and freight service between the N. E. I. and European ports.  She was built in Holland in 1938 and was operated by the R.D.P.N. Co. until chartered by the U.S.A.  She was converted into a hospital ship at Melbourne in Jan. 1944.  The conversion was done by Australian contractors under the direction of the U.S.A. Transportation Corps with plans approved by the Medical Department.     

On a recent tour of the S.W.P. area, the Surgeon General of the Army, Maj. General Norman T. Kirk, declared that the hospitals “Maetsuycker” and “Tasman” were better adapted to tropical use than were ships converted in the U.S., and that valuable lessons had been learned in water evacuation through experiences in operating these two ships.     

Packed within her 4200 ton hull is what on land would be a full-fledged Army Station Hospital with the most modern medical equipment obtainable.  With the wards to accommodate 280 patients, the capacity can be expanded above that figure in emergencies by placing cots on the covered promenade decks.  As many as 326 patients have been carried at one time and on one single voyage almost 1000 patients were handled by shuttling them from the forward areas to medical installations in the rear and picking up other patients for further evacuation.     

Nerve center of the hospital is the three-room surgery suite, composed of sterilizing room, scrub-up and preparation and operating room.  Those rooms are air-conditioned for proper temperature and humidity.  Operating lights are on jointed arms permitting them to be swiveled into any needed angle or position.  One cluster of lights is connected in the ship’s emergency circuit and switch on automatically if the main circuit goes out of order.  As extra oil-burning steam boiler was installed in the engine room to furnish an abundance of steam for sterilizers and other hospital equipment.     

So complete and modern is the surgical equipment and so skillful the surgeons on duty, the most delicate operation known to medical science can be performed on the “Maetsuycker”.  On its maiden voyage an emergency brain surgery of major character was performed with complete success.     

The combined X-ray and plaster room are also air-conditioned so that it can be used with greatest efficiency in the tropics.  The X-ray equipment is specially designed for hospital ship use so as to overcome vibration and the effect of the rolling ship.  The dental surgery and laboratory are well equipped and more than adequate for dental care of all patients and the ship’s personnel.  The diagnostic laboratory is equipped with complete apparatus for performing blood studies, chemical and bacteriological analysis.                                               

Alterations were made in the ship to permit the arrangement of wards to assure greatest efficiency in care of patients and simplicity in loading and unloading.  The greatest part of the wards and service areas are on a single deck.  The wards are arranged around hatches and special hatch covers with vents provide illumination and ventilation, supplementing the circulation produced by a forced draft system.  Booby hatches built into each hatch afford additional light and air in good weather.  Special loading ports were cut into the ships sides near the water level, thus providing direct openings into fore and aft  wards, contributing to rapid loading and unloading.  These ports greatly facilitate offshore loading, for patients can be taken from barges tied along side directly into the ward.  When the ship is tied up at a dock, both ports are opened and patients can be loaded at one end and empty litters taken off at the other.  Aisles in the wards are designed to permit litters to swing all around corners and care was also taken to provide an exit at the end of each row of beds.  The use of two powered ambulance barges carried on the “Maetsuycker” deck further facilitates offshore loading.  Lowered to the water by freight winches, the barges can be shuttled back and forth between ship and shore.  They are equipped with ingenious “Loading boxes” carrying four litter patients or ten sitting patients.  The boxes are lifted from the barges and lowered through a hatch directly into the ward.  On the upper deck a large ward has been prepared for the care of patients who are able to walk.  The Orthopedic ward was converted from a former dining salon on the main deck.  This ward is far enough above the water line to permit port-holes to remain open except in roughest weather.  This is particularly cheerful, with an abundance of light and fresh air.  Beds are extra wide and especially constructed for cast cases.

Because of the expert medical care and pleasant environment aboard the ship, enhanced, as any soldier will aver, in no small degree by the presence of Army nurses–remarkable improvement is quickly evidenced in patients after they are taken aboard.  The hospital commanding officer, Maj. Eugene Guralnick, formerly a physician in Roxbury, Mass., states that “perhaps our greatest service is in being able to offer these patients clean, restful wards, with good food and ample fluids.  It was found that a great many of the men came to us out of combat arrived badly dehydrated, anemic and exhausted.  We were able to freely administer parenteral, intravenous, or subcutaneous fluids and plasma.”     

The eighteen nurses on the staff, although working 15 to 18 hours a day, have gladly volunteered to give blood for transfusions, but Maj. Guralnick has refused permission for the reason that they must conserve their energy.  On one trip alone, however, one third of the officers and enlisted men gave transfusions.     

These hospital ship nurses, whose work takes them neared the scene of battle than any other women in the service and who see first had the tragic results of combat an witness the thrilling dream of broken bodies and minds brought back to life and hope, discount their sacrificial role, and give most of the credit to the sheer courage of the fighting men.  They express amazement at the high morale and gallantry of men who come aboard the ship from battle.     

2nd Lt. Celesta Johnson, A.N.C of Denver, Colo., will never forget the night of the first patients from the Biak battle–a young Navy Lt. Who wanted to walk up the steep gangplank with a bottle of plasma running into a vein in his foot.  He had been severely burned while spraying his stranded PT boat with gasoline, preparatory to destroying it before it fell into enemy hands.     

2nd Lt. Kathleen Belden, A.N.C. of 37 Water St., Vergennes, Vt., is impressed by the philosophical outlook of wounded men.  “For instance”, she said, “patients with one leg gone always have a good reason to be glad it wasn’t the other.  One fellow was a trap drummer in civilian life and was happy that his right leg had been spared.”     

The general condition of virtually every patient improves tremendously after a bath, a shave and some clean clothes.  Miss Belden points out, “They marvel at the food and the real American nurses.  And when their daily ration of beer appears they say they actually believe that they must be in heaven.”     

Miss Belden, daughter of Mr. & Mrs. Geo. Belden, trained at Gaesbriand Hospital, Burlington, Vt.  She studies Morse code when she has any spare time.  “The signals from the other ships intrigued me so I decided to learn the code.” she said.     

Vivid in the memory of Lt. Louisa Hohn is the cheerful attitude of two patients who were brought aboard from an LST out of the Biak action, a young 2nd Lt. And a Sgt.  The Lt. Had lost his right arm and the Sgt. his left.  “When swing music came over the loud speaker, the Sgt. Would jitterbug the best he could in bed,” Lt. Hohn recalled.  “ The Lt.,” she said, “was quieter, but he had just as good a spirit.  After two transfusions he was sitting on the side of the bed and eating without help, the two became fast friends.  I hope they meet in civilian life with two good arms and a good life ahead of them.”     

Miss Hohn’s interesting experiences began, too, after her arrival in Australia in the early days of the war.  Arriving in Sydney on June 4, 1942, she and other nurses were quartered at a hotel in the city.  On the night of June 6, 1942 two Japanese submarines sneaked into the harbor and shelled the city.  “We were sent to the hotel basement.” Miss Hohn recounts.  “I was a little scared and thought the war had come to our doorsteps.”  The submarines were captured and later exhibited in a Sydney park.     

2nd Lt. Bernice M. Kardys of 100 Princetone St., N. Chelmsford, Mass., pleasantly remembers the rousing welcome the nurses received at Cape Gloucester.  “At first just a few soldiers greeted us; then whole gangs gathered around, storming us with questions: Are you real Americans?  What state are you from?, and many others. It was truly exhilarating.”     

“The most impressive thing to me is the improvement in condition of the patients,” says 2nd Lt. Antoine Vogt of 315 N. Thompson St., Helmet, Cal. “All are listless and sleepy when they come aboard but after just two days they are sitting up, stretching their necks to look out, and are anxious to talk to someone.”     

2nd Lt. May O’Connor, of 2716–19th St., Arlington, Va., “wouldn’t change places with anyone.”  On leave from her nursing position with the U.S. Indian Service, Miss O’Connor has been in the S.W.P. since May 1942.  “The patients are so grateful, so courageous–they never lose their sense of humor either.  It seemed to relieve them just to talk and have someone to listen to them.”  And neither has Miss O’Connor lost her sense of humor.  “Seasickness always has its funny angles.”, she remarked.  “Unless the weather is bad very few get seasick on the “Maetsuycker”, but our first trip was a honey.  When you brought         

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