days ago. High fever, severe chills, and profuse sweating
and dehydration had drained her resistance and energy. Lisa was at a weaker and
more vulnerable state now than she was when she left the prison compound.
The staff had worked diligently to bring her fever down with
cooling baths. She was already in a weakened condition and the staff was afraid
that the trauma of the malaria attack might be more than her body could handle.
They were quick to hook her up to maximum glucose intravenous feeding and
administered massive dosages of quinine and some of the more modern medicines
to halt the disease and ultimately cure it, as long as she did not return to
the malaria-infested area of the tropics. For two days she was too weak to
walk.
The fever and chills produced intense headaches. Every
muscle and joint in her body ached and her abdomen felt as if it were on fire.
She was a very sick person and the doctors were concerned about her ability to
resist the ravages of the disease. It was not uncommon for additional attacks
to take place every three or four days.
While the ship was resting against its anchor chains, a
two-engine Catalina float plane landed in the calm waters of the anchorage. The
women clearly saw the pilot and waved as the plane settled in the water and
taxied to the amphibious ramp on shore. The ship was in the process of
discharging a hundred soldiers that had been treated for minor wounds and were
capable of returning to active combat duty. The nurses told the women lining
the deck rails what was taking place and announced that a few severely wounded
men were going to be brought on board for transit to Pearl Harbor.
Lisa looked out over the rails wearing the sunglasses the
doctor insisted she wear to protect her already weakened eyes from the harmful
rays of the tropical sun. The malaria attack had deteriorated her sight even
more. She saw the island of Guam as a green mass of land without any
distinctive definition. Everything looked fuzzy to her. She was able to see the
plane as it landed but could not distinguish the pilot.
The breeze was brisk and chilled Lisa as she wrapped herself
tightly in the heavy white robe she wore. She was uncomfortable most of the
time, either too hot or too cold. Finding a suitable balance between the two
extremes was difficult. When she was cold, her body began to shiver and shake
until her teeth rattled. About the only thing she could do was sleep, which her
body desperately needed to successfully fight the disease. Lisa asked the nurse
to wheel her back to the ward so that she could lie down.
The Island of Guam was a busy communication and supply
center. There was a small detachment of American troops stationed on the island
since it was taken from the Japanese a year ago. It had been an American
protectorate before the war. A large United States flag proudly waved from the
roof of the large building at the amphibious ramp where the Catalina float
plane was being secured to a dock. Four seriously wounded soldiers were
onboard, including Lieutenant Jonathon Wright. He was unconscious when they
left Luzon and was still unconscious as the sailors lifted him from the
fuselage of the float plane. They temporarily deposited him and the other
wounded men in an infirmary where they were checked by doctors and nurses from
the hospital ship. It was a precautionary move before loading them on a landing
barge for transfer to the hospital ship.
Jonathon was sheathed in white linens and strapped securely
to a stretcher. Doctor Day took his pulse and checked his heart. A small bottle
of glucose and blood plasma were hanging from a post attached to the stretcher.
Doctor Day asked one of the nurses to replace both intravenous bottles before
the men were transferred. So far, Jonathon seemed to have made the trip without
any complications. As soon as he was placed on board the ship, Doctor Day and
others would be able to make a more detailed evaluation.
An hour later, the soldiers were in
and dehydration had drained her resistance and energy. Lisa was at a weaker and
more vulnerable state now than she was when she left the prison compound.
The staff had worked diligently to bring her fever down with
cooling baths. She was already in a weakened condition and the staff was afraid
that the trauma of the malaria attack might be more than her body could handle.
They were quick to hook her up to maximum glucose intravenous feeding and
administered massive dosages of quinine and some of the more modern medicines
to halt the disease and ultimately cure it, as long as she did not return to
the malaria-infested area of the tropics. For two days she was too weak to
walk.
The fever and chills produced intense headaches. Every
muscle and joint in her body ached and her abdomen felt as if it were on fire.
She was a very sick person and the doctors were concerned about her ability to
resist the ravages of the disease. It was not uncommon for additional attacks
to take place every three or four days.
While the ship was resting against its anchor chains, a
two-engine Catalina float plane landed in the calm waters of the anchorage. The
women clearly saw the pilot and waved as the plane settled in the water and
taxied to the amphibious ramp on shore. The ship was in the process of
discharging a hundred soldiers that had been treated for minor wounds and were
capable of returning to active combat duty. The nurses told the women lining
the deck rails what was taking place and announced that a few severely wounded
men were going to be brought on board for transit to Pearl Harbor.
Lisa looked out over the rails wearing the sunglasses the
doctor insisted she wear to protect her already weakened eyes from the harmful
rays of the tropical sun. The malaria attack had deteriorated her sight even
more. She saw the island of Guam as a green mass of land without any
distinctive definition. Everything looked fuzzy to her. She was able to see the
plane as it landed but could not distinguish the pilot.
The breeze was brisk and chilled Lisa as she wrapped herself
tightly in the heavy white robe she wore. She was uncomfortable most of the
time, either too hot or too cold. Finding a suitable balance between the two
extremes was difficult. When she was cold, her body began to shiver and shake
until her teeth rattled. About the only thing she could do was sleep, which her
body desperately needed to successfully fight the disease. Lisa asked the nurse
to wheel her back to the ward so that she could lie down.
The Island of Guam was a busy communication and supply
center. There was a small detachment of American troops stationed on the island
since it was taken from the Japanese a year ago. It had been an American
protectorate before the war. A large United States flag proudly waved from the
roof of the large building at the amphibious ramp where the Catalina float
plane was being secured to a dock. Four seriously wounded soldiers were
onboard, including Lieutenant Jonathon Wright. He was unconscious when they
left Luzon and was still unconscious as the sailors lifted him from the
fuselage of the float plane. They temporarily deposited him and the other
wounded men in an infirmary where they were checked by doctors and nurses from
the hospital ship. It was a precautionary move before loading them on a landing
barge for transfer to the hospital ship.
Jonathon was sheathed in white linens and strapped securely
to a stretcher. Doctor Day took his pulse and checked his heart. A small bottle
of glucose and blood plasma were hanging from a post attached to the stretcher.
Doctor Day asked one of the nurses to replace both intravenous bottles before
the men were transferred. So far, Jonathon seemed to have made the trip without
any complications. As soon as he was placed on board the ship, Doctor Day and
others would be able to make a more detailed evaluation.
An hour later, the soldiers were in
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