|
THE LAUGHING BOX
A Presentation at the Women's Memorial Monument -
Washington DC, 11/11/98
Copyright 1998 Janice Hemerding
This story, "THE LAUGHING BOX" was
presented on Veteran’s Day, November 11, 1998, at the Vietnam Women’s
Memorial Monument in Washington, D.C. as part of the Fifth Anniversary
Dedication of this Monument. Included in the days’ activities was
"VIETNAM: IN THEIR OWN WORDS," which is, story telling at its best and
is an educational program presented by the Vietnam Women’s Memorial Project.
This story is one of eighteen stories selected from a nation wide search for
presentation on this occasion. Other stories given that day were by combat
veterans, nurses and Red Cross workers.
A full-scale program is held each Veteran’s Day and an abbreviated program
is
held on Memorial Day. This story, "The Laughing Box" is a historical
account of Vietnam, 1970; presented by an ASCP Registered Medical
Technologist, who is grateful to Vietnam Veteran’s Chapter 317, Kansas City,
Mo. for their assistance with the preparation of this account.
THE LAUGHING BOX
My name is Janice; I’m a Registered Medical Technologist with a specialization
in blood banking. I was an instructor at the National School of Medical Biology
in Saigon, So. Vietnam from January 1970 to February 1971. The title of this
story is "THE LAUGHING BOX." At the presentation of this story I had
prepared a book of 10 photos that I took while I was working in Vietnam. I had
on the cover of this booklet a picture of this Laughing Box and if you’re
unfamiliar with what a Laughing Box is I’d like to describe to you the one
which I have.
On the cover of that book the "Laughing Box" is chartreuse in color,
it is plastic, it will fit neatly in the palm of your hand, and it has an
opening on the top for a battery and a small switch on the side. If you push
this switch to the "on" position it will play for you a variety of
sounds of laughter. An U.S. Army Captain who served his country as a helicopter
pilot gave this Laughing Box to me on the eve my departure from Vietnam. I’d
like to tell you about some of my experiences as a teacher at this National
School of Medical Biology in Saigon and also, how I acquired that Laughing Box.
When I prepared this book there was an opportunity for a dedication page and
after carefully reading the list of available quotations, it is with all
heartfelt sincerity and firsthand experience of one year in Vietnam, that I
selected from someone named "Campbell" the quotation "To live
in the hearts of those we leave behind is not to die" for my dedication
page.
My employer while in Vietnam was US AID/The American Medical Association; we
were part of the AMA’s Education Project of Vietnam. Twenty-two American
Universities along with 200 people participated in this Project; a detailed
account of the life of this Project through the years 1967 to 1975, the year of
the collapse of the South Vietnamese Government, was published in 1988 in a book
titled "Saigon Medical School - An Experiment in International
Education" authored by C. H. William Rhue, M.D. The intent of this Project
was to upgrade the medical and dental services available to the Vietnamese
people. The present system of medicine consisted of an antiquated combination of
French and Oriental, which was inadequate to meet the needs of a country at
peace let alone a country at war. This book is now out of print but can be found
in the medical libraries of participating universities.
The director at my school in Saigon was Mr. Tu. He was energetic, dynamic, and
spoke a rapid-fire staccato English. He was very enthusiastic about his
responsibilities at the lab school and I enjoyed being around him very much.
My counterpart with whom I would closely coordinate all work throughout the
coming year was Miss Ly. She was quiet, very intelligent, and fluent in English.
She had just returned to Saigon after completing one years’ study at the
pathology laboratories of one of the Projects participating universities; thusly
she was familiar with the technical terms used in laboratory procedures.
Immediately upon my arrival in Saigon Miss Ly and I were introduced. We
immediately became friends so it was easy to begin work. My responsibility was
to select and organize the material we would teach; Miss Ly’s duty was to
translate all the material, present it to the class in lectures, oversee the
practical application of the theory presented, and give exams. It is easy to see
she had the most work but I was present during all class work.
The enrollment at our school was 120 students, most of who were in their late
teens. They dressed very neatly in white pants, white shirts and wore white caps
that reminded me of those our American nurses wore. They were punctual with no
absenteeism. After the morning lectures, time was appropriated to work at the
laboratory bench to make practical application of the theory presented in
lectures. They were good students; they learned thoroughly and quickly. I, also,
wore my professional white uniform to class. I attached to it my registry pins
and an ASCP sleeve patch that is a replica of a microscope; I wore these as an
indication of my American Registry.
Our school was very fortunate to have the assistance of U.S. Army Sergeant
Arthur Schipful. He was as friendly a person as he was a friend of our school. I
met him through the acquisitioning of supplies for our school. One day he loaded
some extra U. S. Government Laboratory manuals into his jeep and drove twenty
minutes south of his supply depot to our school in Cholon to attend a morning of
class. The students were elated to have a visitor because this made some free
time away from their work. Mr. Tu greatly appreciated his support and so did I.
At this time I’d like to say "Thanks, Art, for your support of the
school. It really was a big help."
Classes at our school went routinely with no interruptions until one day Mr. Tu
burst into our class. He was mad! He loudly admonished the students for several
minutes; I mean he yelled at them! His face was red and his voice cracked with
anger. Then he gestured to our main entrance and quickly went down the hall
toward his office. Immediately afterward, two young female students came
forward, gathered their books into their arms, then paused to glance toward me.
Then with tears filling their eyes they followed Mr. Tu down the hall to his
office. All this was in the Vietnamese language so I had to ask Miss Ly what
that was all about. She replied that those two students had been spotted
participating in anti-American demonstrations and Mr. Tu had permanently
expelled them from the school while severely warning the others. There was a lot
of tension in the classroom after this and the students shyly looked at me to
see how I would react. Within a few seconds I regained my composure and asked
Miss Ly to instruct the students to finish their lesson for the day. She
promptly did so; although the air continued to be tense while the students
completed their assignment I could just feel the students sympathy for me and
their embarrassment.
Classes continued quietly until a few weeks later when Mr. Tu again abruptly
entered our class; this time he was very loud but also very quick. He called out
loudly to us then spun around to return to his office. Miss Ly immediately came
up to me and said: "Take your purse and books, we are to immediately
evacuate this building. Do not return until tomorrow." The following
morning at school I asked Miss Ly what occurred the previous day and she said:
"A hand grenade had been spotted on top of a post of the fence that
surrounded the schoolyard. The Vietnamese MPs had been summoned to come and take
it away. They found it be a "dud."
One day while in my US AID housing complex I heard a knock on my door; a
messenger said I had a visitor in the lobby. I immediately went to the lobby
where I recognized a young man from my hometown. He stood neatly clad in his
Army summer dress uniform; he was trim and tan. I was really happy to see Bob
and was eager to visit. He, however, was anxious to return to his out-processing
area. He had received permission to leave the Than Son Nhut U.S. Air Force Base
to pay me a brief visit before returning to the United States. Within just a few
days he would report to my parents back in our hometown how I was. Bob was
tense, spoke rapidly, smiled little; I quickly sensed he had experienced a great
deal of this war and it wasn’t until a year later when I returned to my home
town and spoke to Bob’s mother that I learned he had spent his year in the
Central Highlands of Vietnam daily walking the Ho Chi Minh Trail. He spent many
sleepless nights in the hoochs along with the rest of the other young soldiers.
I say "Thank You, Bob, for making this added effort; to visit me."
Time passed quickly at school; it was soon August and time for final
examinations. I found in the AMA office a book of review questions we in these
United States use for our registry exam. I realized our lectures included all of
the material in these 50 exam questions except a few of the objectives listed. I
asked Miss Ly to translate these 50 questions into Vietnamese for the final
exam. After these last eight months together in a daily classroom the students
were not quite as shy as at the beginning of our relationship. So when the
students were handed the exam they expressed their concerns that this exam was
too difficult; I didn’t need to understand any Vietnamese to know what they
were saying. They spoke directly to me and pointed to their papers; they had a
great deal of concern expressed in their eyes along with an urgency of their
problem. I asked Miss Ly to tell them just to think of it as a review, do the
best they could and if necessary we could give a different exam. This satisfied
the students, well mostly, so they lowered their heads and began choosing their
answers.
Miss Ly, along with another Vietnamese lab instructor and I together monitored
this exam. While walking past a young Montegnard’s desk I noticed he had
selected an incorrect answer. I placed my hand on his exam and simply shook my
head "no" and said to him in English "This is an incorrect
answer." He so shyly looked at me and began to smile. He slowly turned his
pencil upside down and began to erase his selection all the while still looking
at me. I smiled, said "yes" to him and moved my finger to the correct
answer. He slowly circled the letter at the end of my finger and then his face
broke into a huge grin. The class had all interrupted their work to watch this
and they all loudly breathed a sound of relief; lowered their heads closer to
their papers and began to work even more intensely. I felt the bond of the
students and I grow even closer at this experience for now it seemed they were
even more determined to do well on this exam. They looked at me very caringly
and I returned the same.
The following day the students were as elated to learn their scores as we were
elated to give them the wonderful results. The lowest score was 78% and that,
Miss Ly told me, was made by a student from the Central Highlands of Vietnam who
spoke a different dialect of Vietnamese so he could not always understand
everything Miss Ly said. Ten students missed only one question and the majority
of scores were in the low 90% and upper 80%. The students cheered loudly when
given these results; as their instructor I was so happy that I invited the ten
students who missed only one question to my US Aid housing for dinner. The
students who could attend were thrilled ; I could see disappointment in the
faces of those students who could not attend.
I wasn’t much of a cook but I prepared an All-American dinner of roast beef,
baked potatoes, green beans, hot dinner rolls and ice cream for dessert. I had
set the table for ten with plates and forks, knives and spoons. When the ten
young ladies arrived they were neatly dressed in their native Aoi and Miss Ly
gave them instructions on how to use the dinnerware. The students were shy, ate
silently, and then dismissed themselves after dinner. Miss Ly stayed to help
with the cleanup.
For Graduation Day the students hung colorful paper streamers from the ceiling,
colorful banners and flowers graced the stage where the officials of the
Ministry of Health would give their speeches. Immediately following the
ceremonies the students assembled a band to celebrate with music, song and
refreshments. Miss Ly and I accepted our invitation to celebrate with them and I
felt certain the students would now proudly wear on their work uniforms the
sleeve patches that Mr. Tu had duplicated from mine. Each student was awarded
two patches along with the Certificate of Proficiency at this time. For if
success in the classroom is to be measured by the letters A, B, C, D, F, or
pass-fail, then we had succeeded beyond anyone’s expectations. I think this is
an achievement the United States can proudly acclaim to this day but it is a
recognition reserved for this Vietnam Veteran’s Day here in Washington D. C.
My time in Vietnam was filled with other assignments that Miss Ly and I
completed together and soon it was my time to return to the United States. For
my final evening in Vietnam a group of seven U.S. Air Force Officers who I had
known throughout the year invited me as their guest for a farewell dinner in
their club on the Than Son Nhut U.S. Air Force Base. I agreed to arrive early
to reserve a table but when I swung the club door open with the hand of
confidence that comes from success I found all the tables occupied. Sitting
alone at a big, round table was an U.S. Army Captain who sat with his elbows on
the tabletop staring down at the table. He occasionally would glance my way,
then to the chair immediately to his left, then stare at the tabletop. After a
brief wait for my own table I walked over to his table and asked if he was
expecting friends to join him. If not, may I and my friends who will soon arrive
share your table for my farewell dinner?
The captain replied, "Sit down, I’m not from this area. I’ve just
returned from my R&R. I wanted to come in and have dinner before returning
to my fire base in the morning, but I feel out of place sitting at this table in
this big club all alone. Sit down." I took the chair immediately to his
left; he asked my name and what I was doing in Vietnam. I told him and I asked
his name. He said: My name is Bob, I’m a helicopter pilot. I’ve been in this
country five months, been shot down four times, and had three of my buddies
killed. For my R&R I decided I wanted to go home to visit my parents for
Christmas; they live in Colorado. One day I took my bike out of the garage and
rode it along the roads of the Rocky Mountains as hard and as fast as I could. I
hoped I would lose control, go off the side of the road, and fall into the deep
canyon below, never to be found. It was so cold and beautiful. After twenty
minutes of riding my bike like this I realized it wasn’t going to happen so I
stopped and as I idled my bike I realized I was just a day and a half away from
Canada. If I pointed my bike north and kept going, I would be in Canada before I
was ever missed; but I couldn’t leave my fallen buddies. So I have come back.
Here I am but I don’t know what I am going to do because I cannot do my
job."
When Bob finished speaking he again stared at the tabletop while I immediately
felt every emotion in my body drawn into his world of combat. I looked around in
the club hoping to recognize someone who could come over and join us at our
table; but I found no one. Objects in the room became blurry to me; this was war
and I wanted to help my new friend. With no knowledge of what to do I sat and
waited for the arrival of my friends; while I waited the normal activities in
this dining room quickly became an annoying din. I wanted it quiet so I could
think. I looked at the huge clock on a supporting pillar near our table to check
the time; it seemed that time had stopped and I wondered if this was how Vietnam
would end for me. I had experienced such a rewarding year in Vietnam but now,
here I was experiencing the war at it’s worst and with no time left in
country. Eventually the club door opened and all seven of my friends arrived.
They were dressed in their Air Force summer dress uniforms with their caps
tucked neatly beneath their belts and their black shoes well shined. They came
over and were seated. Introductions were made and during our conversation the
immediate situation of this war was set aside; there was some laughter at our
table. They began to tease Bob, they were Air Force, he was Army. That rivalry,
I had learned always seemed to somehow amuse those engaged in it and midway
through our meal Bob’s spirits picked up as he said: "You people are the
best friends I have ever had. I wish you were where I am, then I’d be able to
do my job because I know I’d have you to come back to."
Our evening together soon concluded as my friends and I bid each other a fond
farewell and a safe return to the United States. Bob and I were left sitting
alone at the table. He reached beneath the table onto the seat of his chair and
placed before me this chartreuse funny looking box. I’d never seen anything
like that before so I asked him what it was and he replied: "It’s my Laughing
Box. When I returned from my R&R I stopped in Hong Kong to do some
shopping for my parents; this is the one thing I bought for me. Where I am there
is nothing but a very tense silence; I’m afraid if I don’t hear some
laughter within the next six months of my tour I’m going to lose my mind. But
I’m fine now and I want you to have it."
I wanted to leave Bob as much support as I could for his tense duty so I pushed
the chartreuse box back across the table directly in front of him and said:
"Keep the box; for me, please, keep the box." I pushed my chair back
from our table, stood up, then turned to my left to exit the club. I found Bob
standing directly in front of me, blocking my path to the door. He had
completely regained his composure. He stood tall and straight. He extended his
right arm as he clutched the Laughing Box firmly in his hand directly in
front of me. With the firmest and clearest command I can imagine ever given he
said: "I told you I’m fine now. I’m going to be able to do my job. TAKE
THE BOX. I WANT YOU TO HAVE SOMETHING TO REMEMBER ME BY."
Today, at this Vietnam Women’s Memorial Monument here in
Washington, D. C. if I could see Bob, that helicopter pilot, I would tell him
and I invite all the rest of you who are like that helicopter pilot, in that you
have moments of tense silence in your lives and you cannot leave behind your
fallen buddies: "TAKE THE GRADUATION DAY WHICH WE CELEBRATED IN SAIGON,
SOUTH VIETNAM, ON AUGUST, 1970. I WANT YOU TO BE REMEMBERED FOR IT."
BACK TO WOMEN'S EXPERIENCE MENU | 
