The Angels of Bataan

I walked up to Josie and said respectfully, "Can I have a second of your time Momma?"

Josie looked at me, fatigued to the point where I had to wonder how she could still stand, and said impatiently, "What do you want, Erik? Can't you see I'm a little busy here?"

I held up one of the pills and said, "Is this quinine?"

Josie looked at me like she didn't appreciate being messed with. She took the pill with a long-suffering expression and held it up to examine the writing stamped on it. Then she turned to me and said, her voice full of urgency and wonder, "Where did you get this?"

I said, "Is it quinine?"

She said, "Yes!! Do you have any more of it?"

I held up the big bottle and said, "I can get more of it tomorrow if this is the real deal."

Josie said in a voice full of jubilation, "Ronnie, come here!! Look what Erik brought us!!"

Ronnie sauntered over, looking none-too-pleased. She was beautiful and exhausted, with a lock of her thick ash-blond hair hanging down over one eye. She said impatiently, "We're a little busy here, Erik. What do you want?"

Josie handed her the pill and said, "Is this what I think it is?"

Ronnie took it and held it up to the ray of light shining through the curtains. Then she turned to me questioningly. For the first time in our brief history, the woman looked awestruck. She said in a voice brimming with emotion. "You did it!! I don't know how you did. But you've saved a lot of lives."

Did I detect a hint of respect, or maybe something else?

*****

And so, my new role as scrounger-in-chief for the Santa Catalina hospital began. Ernesto showed up the next day with a burlap bag full of bottles of quinine. It was enough to alleviate any of the Camp's problems with malaria for at least the following year. That sack cost me over a thousand in gold. But I'd lost that much at poker waiting for the Japanese to arrive.

Over the course of several months, Ernesto brought other things, cans of ether, sterile dressings, and even aspirin, which did wonders with fevers. It cost another pile of gold coins. But you can't eat gold or use it to treat disease. I was appalled at how unselfish I'd become. It was disturbing.

Then, Vincente showed up at the fence Easter week of '43. He handed me a big monkeypod box. I said, "What's this?"

He said, "Open it and see. One of our boys liberated this from the Japanese."

I did, and inside was a suite of surgical instruments with a complete set of blades. I raised an eyebrow and looked at him questioningly.

He said, "I remembered that one of your frauds was to pretend you were a surgeon. Well, here's all the kit you'll need to really be one -- Happy Easter."

I said, "How much do I owe you?"

He laughed and said, "Nothing, it's a gift. Terry's boys lifted it from a Japanese field hospital... after they'd killed all of them of course. We have no use for it, I thought of you."

I didn't know what to make of it. Was Vincente calling my bluff, and why? I must have been a total asshole back then if he'd gone that far out of his way to remind me of my many former sins. I said as nonchalantly as I could, "Well thanks. Maybe I'll get to use these things someday."

That opportunity came sooner than I expected. But there's a story to it. Very early in my internment, I'd had a comfortable little bamboo and palm frond shack built for me in the open space on campus. Other wealthy people did the same thing and soon all of the empty space was full of those huts.

My shack was a cozy, private spot where I could retreat when the heat and the crushing mass of humanity got to be too much. I'd originally built it out of sheer selfishness. But I'd begun sleeping there once I'd started my indentured servitude at the clinic.

I would check in at the dorms each night for roll call and then the guards would release me back to the clinic. The hut was a lot quieter and infinitely more comfortable than my sleeping space upstairs, and my rotations were geared so that my sleeping times were mainly in the day anyhow.

I kept all of the food I could scavenge in the hut. It was hidden in the tiny trunk that I was allowed to bring with me when we were first interned. I suppose others knew about it. But everybody was watching everybody else and there was a kind of camp code that said we shouldn't ever steal other people's food. So, I wasn't concerned about leaving it when I was on shift.

One scorching hot afternoon, I was dozing next to the trunk when it moved. I realized that somebody had crept stealthily in and was trying to get at my food. I jumped to my feet and shouted angrily, "Oh no you don't!!!" There was a shriek and a scuttling noise.

I yanked back the door curtain to let in some light and to my utter astonishment, there was a little girl... cowering in fright against the far wall of the hut. She was a beautiful little thing, perhaps eight, or nine, weeping pitifully. My heart melted.

I crouched in front of the snotty-nosed little miscreant and said in a joshing tone, "And what do you think you're doing, young lady?"

She looked at me out of the biggest, bluest eyes and sniveled, "I'm sorry Mister. But I'm so hungry."

I said gently, "Where's your mother? Doesn't she feed you? You get a ration twice a day, you know."

She began to cry hard. I said, now really concerned, "What's the matter, sweetie?" She murmured through her tears, "Mommy died yesterday, and daddy was killed in the war."

I said shocked, "Wait a minute. You're telling me there's nobody to take care of you?

She blubbered, "Nobody... and I'm so scared." Then she catapulted herself onto my chest, threw her arms around my neck, and wept. I sat back on the floor holding a tiny blond bundle of grief, while the poor little thing wailed like her heart was going to break.

I said gently, stroking her hair, "Let's get you something to eat. I reached into my trunk and took out the big juicy mango that I had been saving for a special occasion.

She instantly stopped crying, grabbed the mango, and made it disappear, skin and all, in about thirty seconds. I said, "Easy, you'll make yourself sick."

She produced a loud satisfied belch and said, "Thank you."

Then with her little tummy full, she stood, formally extended her hand like her parents had no doubt taught her to do, and said, "My name is Melissa. But my friends call me Missy. You can call me Missy. I'd like that."

I took her tiny hand in mine and said, "Pleased to meet you, Missy. My name is Erik and I'm going to take care of you from now on."

Where the fuck did THAT come from!!?? Lately, I'd found myself saying things that were simply NOT the old irresponsible me. But that statement was perhaps the most bizarre of them all. Even so, I knew with absolute certainty that I'd meant what I'd just said, and no force on earth would make me change my mind. This little angel was my concern now."

The bond was instantaneous, as it always is with parent and child. I didn't have to waste time over-analyzing the reasons why. It was just there. The fact was, this poor little thing needed somebody, and fate had pointed the finger at me. I knew that there was no way to avoid the responsibility. At least if I ever wanted to keep a shred of self-respect.

I have no idea how a former libertine could fall so suddenly and totally into a willing lifetime obligation. It was inexplicable, not to mention illogical. But there was no doubt in my mind that I would sacrifice everything I had to keep this little girl safe and happy.

It was a peculiar feeling - an instant and absolute sense of pure love for this fragile little creature. Maybe it's genetic. Humans have a prolonged period of helplessness compared to other animals. So, the nurturing instinct must be hardwired into our brains.

I thought, "I've got to talk to Ronnie." That was astonishing in and of itself since I was pretty sure Ronnie hated me. But I also realized that she was the only person in the entire camp whose judgment I trusted. I said, "Come with me. I want us to go meet a special friend."

I appeared at the nurses' quarters holding the hand of a tiny blond cherub. THAT provoked an immediate response from the ladies who were doing their washing outside the tent. One of them yelled mockingly over her shoulder, "Ronnie... He's here." Was our relationship THAT obvious?

Ronnie came charging out of the tent with fire in their eyes. She'd already seen me through the window. Before she could get to me, I raised my hands in a gesture of surrender and said meekly, "I found her rummaging for food in my hut. Both parents are dead, and I want your advice."

THAT stopped her in her tracks. Then she did an odd thing. She got an indescribable look of compassion on her lovely face as she knelt in the dirt next to the little girl and said, "What happened to your mommy, little girl?"

Missy started to snivel again. She said through her tears, "Mommy's in heaven. That's what Ms. Miller told me."

Ronnie immediately snapped into nurse mode. She said, "What's Mommy's last name dear?"

Missy sniffled and said, "Brady,"

Ronnie nodded and said under her breath, "Dengue fever." She stood and said to me, "She's an orphan, all right. It happened last night."

I said, "Well okay, then I'm her new daddy."

Perhaps it was the child's vulnerability. She was caught up in matters that she couldn't and needn't understand. Maybe it was her innocence. Or it might have been the contrast between the brutality of her surroundings and the purity of her sweet little soul. Whatever it was -- I knew that the buck stopped with me and that was absolutely the way it was going to be.

Ronnie said emphatically, "What makes you think I'm going to let somebody as irresponsible as you take care of a little girl? There are lots of other orphans in this camp. She'll have plenty of company."

I understood Ronnie's thinking. The Angels had established a facility for kids who were in precisely the same situation as Missy. They had expert nurses doing the minding and they were the right people to be doing that. But there was no way I was going to put my little girl in among a faceless herd of orphan children. She was my responsibility - and perhaps my salvation... Of that, I was absolutely sure!

I might have lost my social standing. And maybe I wasn't the most useful person in that camp. But I was still a man of considerable means with all that represented in terms of leverage. So, I said, in a voice that was loaded with menace, "You are not going to take this angel away from me. She will stay in my hut. She'll be safe and loved, and I have the wherewithal to make sure she's properly fed."

Ronnie looked shocked. Maybe she'd underestimated me. It was clear that she still didn't trust me. Of course, why should she? She stood there looking at me, contemplatively. Then, she got a determined look on her beautiful face and said, "Let's take this to Maude."

I said, "Fine!!"

We walked to the clinic without saying a word. I wasn't going to change in my baffling new dedication to this little girl and Ronnie wasn't going to let anybody as reckless as me take care of somebody that young and vulnerable. Missy just tripped along next to me holding tightly to my hand. She was obviously very frightened, and she wasn't letting go. That cemented my resolve.

My little cherub had no reason to be concerned. Because for the first time in my self-centered life I had met somebody I loved more than myself and I was ready to defend this dear little thing to the death. It was an exhilarating feeling. My-my-my... what had become of the Erik Grayson of old?

Maude was in a meeting with the doctors when we got to the Santa Catalina building. So, the three of us loitered at the entrance. Ronnie drove herself hard. But the Angels had settled into the camp, and they'd started to get into routines. So, Ronnie had clearly taken some time off to wash her hair and maybe put on a little lipstick. She was a devastatingly beautiful woman.

She eyed me suspiciously and said, "What are you really up to Erik. I don't believe this sudden attack of altruism."

I gave her a crooked smile and said gently, "You have a right to be suspicious. I can't explain it. It's some kind of weird psychic connection. It hit me the minute I laid eyes on her. I knew instantly that I would do anything to protect her."

I looked down at Missy who was looking up at me with the sort of total trust that a child gives to a parent. Ronne said with increasing warmth, "That's natural. They call it 'bonding,' Erik."

Then she added almost fondly, "What am I going to do with you? You keep escaping the pigeonholes I put you in. Maybe there's a decent caring human being underneath all of that monumental ego."

That was when Maude emerged from the room. She was with Shaefer and the other docs. They all gave Ronnie a friendly smile and then looked curiously at me standing there holding a little girl by the hand. Ronnie said, "Got a minute Maude," while the rest exited the building.

Maude turned with a puzzled look on her face and said, "What do you need Veronica?" Maude would never use anything but a proper name.

Ronnie said, "This little girl was orphaned last night. Her father commanded the 31st Infantry at Bani-Guirol, you remember that one." Maude nodded ruefully. The Angels indeed were a band of sisters. They'd seen and endured things I couldn't imagine.

Ronnie went on, "He was killed there, and her mother died last night. Erik here wants to take care of her instead of putting her into our orphan care. He has that hut of his, and he obviously has the money. The question is whether you think he can be trusted."

Then she added with an odd look on her face as if she had just realized something, "I can't believe I'm saying this. But I'm beginning to think that he can."

Maude Davison was the sharp edge of a Damascus steel blade. But the person underneath was a deeply caring woman. She looked at me with what almost resembled respect and said, "Have you grown up a little bit Sonny-Boy? Can you manage that much responsibility??"

She added, "You've done pretty well so far. Getting us those supplies was a lifesaver. We were talking about letting you finish your residency a couple of minutes ago. But taking care of this little girl along with your regular duties is about as much as I think you can manage. So, what is it, do you want to start being a doctor or do you want to be a daddy?"

That answer would have been obvious if she'd asked the question twenty-four hours earlier. It was just as clear now. I looked down at Missy who was staring up at me, her eyes full of little girl love, and said without hesitation, "I choose her, thank you very much."

Maude appeared shocked and Ronnie actually gasped. Maude said incredulous, "You 'd trade the opportunity to get out of bed pan patrol for MORE responsibility minding a kid!!?" I nodded my head vigorously. She looked at me with grudging admiration and drawled, "Well, maybe you've become a man after all."

Then Maude got a mysterious look on her face and turned to Ronnie. She said, "Are you ready for another duty?" Both of us knew what she was about to ask. Ronnie said with conviction and something else in her voice, "Absolutely.!!"

And that's the story of how an ex-profligate, a tough Army nurse and a sweet little girl became a quasi-family. There was no way Maude would let me care for another human being without direct supervision, at least at first. So, Ronnie was around the shack as much as I was. In fact, she was only with the other Angels when she was on duty or when Missy and I were asleep.

Missy was always with me. Most of the time she accompanied me to work. At the clinic, she was a little ray of sunshine, a kind of mascot of sorts for the nurses and patients. She was always happy and full of innocent good cheer. She brought joy to sick people, and I was proud of her.

I had gotten a few decent rugs and Missy and I slept on those. I bought food at the fence to supplement the morning and evening rations and I even got a new dress for Missy. Pleasing her was my obsession.

And if you think I was getting any ideas about Ronnie, you don't have a clue about what it's like to work in stifling heat and the occasional monsoon on 1,500 calories a day.

The Japanese had reduced our ration again. So, there was nothing remotely romantic about our relationship. That is, if you discount the fact that a man and a woman taking care of a child together is almost the entire point of the exercise.

When I wasn't at the clinic, I was either scrounging for food or lying around like a dead fly. I tried to spend quality time with my little girl. Ronnie, of course, showed up to tutor her in her off time. My gorgeous friend did her duty, even in her sleep... which she plainly didn't get much of.

Even though she'd made me choose, Maude had arranged for me to work with Shaefer during some basic surgical procedures. Shaefer wasn't a bad guy, and he knew his stuff when it came to cutting and sewing, which is what surgical practice amounts to.

I had begun the habit of tying knots in various gauges of thread in my pants pocket, using one hand. It was good practice if I ever had to operate. I'd also been reviewing human anatomy with anybody who wanted to talk, including Ronnie. She was as knowledgeable as she was tough.

I had been observing Shaefer for a couple of weeks when he told me to scrub in. One of the older men in the camp was suffering from Cholecystitis and needed his gallbladder removed.

It was a simple procedure; I'd witnessed it dozens of times back in the halcyon days at Philippines General. It's a six-inch cut on the right side, just below the ribs, retraction of the muscles - and voila! You take out that little sack lying beneath the patient's liver - not more than two hours from start to finish.

Earlene Black was the Angel's sole nurse anesthetist. She was seated at the patient's head passing the gas. She was a woman who was ungodly precise, which is who you want mixing and controlling the various anesthetics. I expected her to be there. But the surgical nurse was a shock.

I looked across the patient and there were a pair of calm grey eyes above the mask. They were focused on me. I said, trying to sound nonchalant, "Morning Nurse," and Ronnie said formally and politely, "Good morning, Doctor."

Nurse Veronica Chase had not scrubbed for a single operation in all the time that I'd known her. Of course, once the operation began it was obvious that she was a remarkable OR nurse. Her actions were knowledgeable, and efficient. The instruments just appeared in Shaefer's hand the instant he asked for them.

We got to the point where the little pear-shaped sack was revealed and Shaefer said, "Take it from here Erik." I nearly fainted. I was about to protest when I looked at those formidable eyes and they were willing me to proceed. It stiffened my spine. I couldn't let her down.

I said, trying to sound authoritative, even if my heart was in my throat, "Suture," the surgical thread appeared in my hand. I tied the bile duct. I said, "Scalpel," and the right gauge instrument smacked into my palm. The cutting and closing took 45 minutes. Nurse Chase anticipated my every move. She was superb.

Doc Shafer said admiringly, "I haven't seen you work in a long time Ronnie. You're still the best scrub nurse in the Philippines. Why'd you abandon the OR?"

Ronnie got a look of disgust and said grimly, "I just couldn't take it after all the meatball surgery we did on Corregidor. Plus, I'm helping-out a lot more doing general nursing."

Shaefer looked sympathetic. He said, "I understand... I heard it was very bad there. You worked twenty-four-hour shifts at the end, didn't you?"

Ronnie said wearily, "It wasn't the shifts. I'd done surgeries that long at Sternberg. It was the sheer futility of sweating by battle lantern to save a life - and then finding out the guy was killed a week later. It happened way too often, and it finally got to be too much!!"