THE HAPPY HAT (13 page)

Chapter 20

Sebastian Remo

“It’s getting harder to delay my colostomy closure. Once it gets closed I’ll be out of the service and moved to the VA hospital in less than two months.” Remo adjusted his Aussie hat.

Crosley Bizetes looked at him. “It’s okay. We got you that job on the patient mail delivery to get you to keep tabs on our orthopedic people. Now that all the removed Vietnam casts are all deposited in G-1 your job and our tracking is easier.”

“I only have a few people to keep tabs on. None of them know I’m a spy. They think I’m just a gopher to get information to the outside.”

“Just keep getting a copy of the tally for the plaster removals. I want to make sure we get all the Vietnam returnee casts.” Bizetes scanned the papers Remo had given him. “What about this sample analysis they do? What’s that all about?”

“That tight-ass nurse Skagan. She makes them take small pieces of cast and sends them to the lab.” Remo felt a gurgling at his colostomy bag.

“What’s she looking for?”

“Some kind of Vietnam germ. It’s just a little piece and they do a culture for germs. It’s why they take off the casts in the first place remember?” Remo’s brow became furrowed.

“What’s the matter?” Bizetes looked at Remo’s serious expression. “Are you okay? Should I call the corpsman?”

“No. I just was thinkin’ about how I follow those guys who move the discarded casts around.” Remo pointed to the cast tally sheets in Bizetes’ hands. “I go to all the wards with the mail but I don’t get to the ER. There’s no mail delivery there.”

“So what?”

“So one of our guys–this Perkins corpsman. He gets the list first when the air-evacs come. He gets it in the ER. It’s where the air-evacs come in. You said I should track the Nam patients’ casts as much as I can and see if I can get all paper documentation.”

“But your mail job doesn’t give you access to the first air evac influx list?” Bizetes folded his arms and his knees on the generic ward room armless chair.

“Just not the ER. You know that I know who our people are in here right? Well only one knows about our connection–Acky Spinelli.” Remo sipped some water and held onto his colostomy bag through his uniform blouse. “The other day I was deliverin’ mail on G-3 and dropped a batch in Perkin’s desk right next to a list of new air-evacs. He almost jumped out of his skin and the list fell to the floor. I picked it up for him and looked at it as I gave it to him.” He looked around the ward. “He was workin’ over the new list. I think he was changin’ somethin’.”

“What could he change that would interest us?”

“I don’t know. I mean he was really concentratin’ on where the people were comin’ from. I mean, from Nam, the Philippines or Japan. He grabbed the list from me like I was tryin’ to steal it. I mean it was a list of patients. It’s no goddamn secret. It ain’t worth nothin’.” Remo searched Bizetes eyes for an answer.

“What did he say after he got the list back?” Bizetes seemed casual.

“Nothin’ much but he put the list in a drawer so I couldn’t see it anymore and told me ‘Thanks for the mail’. So I left.”

“I don’t see what raised your feathers about Perkins. He’s been with us for over a year ever since he came back from Vietnam.” Bizetes looked at his watch. Visiting hours would be over in twenty minutes.

“I really think Perkins was tryin’ to hide somethin’ but I don’t know what. What do ya think I should do?”

“We haven’t had any problems so far but like a said a few months ago the bosses want us to be vigilant even with our people. There have been skimming incidents at other military hospitals. The casts here have been tallying with the Vietnam discarded casts from our copy of the final lists and the civilian pick-up guys.” Bizetes started to get up but sat down again. “You know what? You should tell this to Acky. Get his take on this. If it’s nothing to him then don’t worry about it.”

“Yean, that sounds good. I’ll ask Acky.” Remo looked at some of the other patients with their visitors. “You know if I get my colostomy closed I could eat some real goomba food. What’s the deal if I get my surgery?”

“We can arrange for another patient to come from Nam–one of us like you. It’s part of our network. He doesn’t have to be as damaged as you. You had a bad break.” Bizetes reached over and squeezed Remo’s right shoulder. “You done good by us. Go ahead and get your colostomy closed. You said you won’t be transferred out to the VA and out of the service for about a month after surgery. That’s plenty of time for us to get your replacement.” He stood up and gave Remo a hug and a whisper. “You have a great bank account and a good job waiting for you when you get out.”

Remo watched Bizetes leave.
Yeah, it’s about time I became human again
. Remo felt his colostomy growl.
Yeah, I can’t even begin to live until I get rid of this shit bag
. He took off his Happy Hat and placed it on the bed table. He suddenly felt fatigued and moved onto his bed and adjusted the head-end to an almost sitting position. His eyelids closed looking at his Happy Hat.
I should talk to Acky Spinelli about Perkins before I go under the knife.

‡

In the middle of Remo’s first Nam tour he began to feel vulnerable. He was mobilizing to be closer to the combat zone for proper placement of the heroin impregnated plaster wraps. Remo had worked with an Australian supply sergeant who made his name and identity know to him on one boring day while he was sitting at the medical and clothing supply depot desk.

“Hey chap you’re Sebastian Remo,” Dorin McBain slapped his hand on the counter to get Remo’s attention.

“What? Oh, yes Sergeant.” Remo looked at the man in khaki uniform and shorts. “I don’t have any authorization for your English group.”

“English! C’mon I’m no bloody Englishman. Just look at my hat.” McBain pointed to his Digger hat.

To Remo it looked like a cowboy hat with the left side folded up with some kind of military insignia or decorative unit crest on the front brim. “How’d you know my first name? My uniform shirt only has my last name.”

“Aye well I’ll tell ya my lad and throw out another name. Does the name Crosley Bizetes mean anything to ya atall, atall?” The ruddy muscular McBain grinned and looked around to reassure their privacy.

“You’re my contact?”

“Dorin McBain. I’ve just got back from one of your yank field hospitals. This is my third and final tour in this hellish land. I’m to brief you on what your to be doing with our goods while you’re out there dodging bullets and running for cover from incoming mortar rounds.”

“My God. Is it that bad out there? I mean am I gonna be that close to front line action.” Remo’s eyes were wide with concern.

“It can be but not usually. The medical supply is a few miles behind ordnance supply. But the black-pajama VC do get testy from time-to-time.” McBain licked his lower moustache with his tongue and then wiped the area with the back of his hand.

“You been out there for three tours? Did you ever get hit? I mean did you ever get wounded, shot, stabbed or whatever happens out there?”

“No and I’m gonna tell you my secret lad.” McBain tapped his Digger hat with his left index finger. “This hat. Whenever and wherever I wear my Australian Digger good fortune and good health go with it. I actually have three of them.”

“Your hat brings you luck?” Remo had seen many combat line returnees refuse to give up helmets with shrapnel dents because of some imagined good fortune and amulet quality imparted by a tactical confrontation. “How can a hat like that offer any protection?”

“I nay have the answer for that other than the observation, the feeling, and the experience. I’ve been so close to getting my booty shot off but it never happened. I see you wear a crucifix. And why my lad do you adorn such an object as that I ask?”

Remo’s right hand went to his chest where the silver cross and chain draped in plain sight. “I’m Catholic. If I die I want to go to heaven.”

“Well so am I my lad.” McBain reached under his v-neck khaki shirt and brought out his tarnished yellow cross. “This cross may guarantee my identity as a soldier fighting for what is right and gain access to St. Peter at the gates but this Digger…” He touched his hat again. “…delays such an earthly departure to the above. It keeps me alive.”

“You have three of those hats?” Remo felt awestruck with this man.

“I do indeed–spares if you will my lad.”

“Would you be willing to part with one? I’ll be willing to pay.” Remo had to have a lucky Digger–a Happy Hat. He always went around feeling down because of his seemingly miserable existence and the potential for a random meaningless death out here or in the bush.

“Our heads are about the same size lad. I could indeed part with one my Happy Hats but first let me complete my mission here with you. I’m to brief you on your job with our specialty plaster. You see lad, any cast applied in a field hospital is usually not going to be changed until the casualty reaches the states or Australia or whatever country our product ends up in.”

“What about the stuff I have here? We have larger hospitals after the aid-stations and field medical units.” Remo still stared at the hat rather than make eye contact.

“The same goes for any cast applied here in this country. They are the first plaster prior to air-evacuation to a home country base. The severely injured orthopedic patients go out to the hospital ships for surgery and then to the Philippines and Japan for stability. Those poor souls will have more surgery outside of Nam and get normal unadulterated plaster.” McBain looked around again. “Tis a pity we occasionally lose some prime product but such is war. So my lad, our concern are the majority who will get a single plaster cast, become medically stable and get shipped back home where we wait for our product at that first cast change.”

These details were never imparted to Remo before. His link in the chain was to replace normal plaster cloth with the heroin-impregnated material. The contact would take away the good plaster for sale in countries that didn’t need his kind of heroin smuggling. Money was being made with the good plaster and the heroin-tainted product. “Well I thank you for the information.”

McBain proceeded to give him the details of his function in the MASH-like unit supply system closer to the combat operational sites. When he was done McBain shook Remo’s hand. “Now there laddy. Do you have any questions for me atall, atall?”

“Just one. What about getting one of your Digger hats–one of your Happy Hats?”

Chapter 21

Kaplan and Skagan

Kaplan inherently knew Boomer was not part of the cartel for heroin smuggling.
I guess I just have to live with the new mobile Boomer Stiles
. Boomer wouldn’t be carted away by any heroin cartel.
He’s a beached whale for God’s sakes.
It’s just the cast that was the bait not Boomer. He was not more than a vector and a victim of the war. The one big puzzler though was his chart’s injury documentation didn’t go along with his lack of symptoms.

“Stress fractures”, the orthopods said. The one thing about Boomer was indeed his size. His cast would be easy to track. In fact he had placed a small metal tracking device in the waist component of Boomer’s head-to-toe plaster. The real problem was the battery life of the tiny transmitter. He had to get Boomer’s cast removed in less than six months. Norman and the staff orthopedic surgeon for G-1, Dr. Caruso, said they’d get it off in two more weeks which gave the transmitter batteries over a month of shelf life elbow room.

Kaplan now had to look at his list of suspects within Queens Naval Hospital. The internal chain of cartel heroin smugglers had to include a few of the Navy staff–very few according to Stokely. They also had to be involved in hands-on daily management of the plaster clad Vietnam returnees.
Was there an orthopedic surgeon–someone or some intellect–at the top of the hospital chain?
Second place on his list was an administrative officer. So far he hadn’t found any Medical Service Corps person connected to orthopedic logistics. His third echelon suspect was the senior nurse officer, LCDR Philomena Skagan. How could she be involved? His one almost intimate encounter left him feeling she was just a detailed, obsessive-compulsive person whose major identity in life centered around her job.

His FBI colleague implicated at least one patient and probably several corpsmen might be involved based on data from other Navy and military counterpart hospitals. Having the removed plaster casts consolidated for the civilian disposal squad did, however, now place all G-Ward corpsman under his immediate scrutiny. It was indeed a God-given situation. All of the Vietnam plaster had to be channeled to him for his direct supervision. The phone at the Nurses Station brought him back to the present moment. Kaplan looked up at the paging lights. His number was flashing. 603. 603. 603.

“Chief Corpsman Kaplan, Ward G-1.”

“It’s Friday again. We should meet. I have two tickets from Special Services to the Saturday Matinee of Kiss Me Kate on Broadway. I know a good reasonable restaurant near the theatre. We can go in my POV or your POV.” Skagan’s voice was soft yet definitive.

Romantic yet formal,
Kaplan smiled. POV was military talk for privately-owned-vehicle. He needed another liaison with her to confirm her guilt or innocence. What still disturbed him was his inner desire to see her regardless. He had to maintain his FBI objectivity but it would be difficult.

“What time tomorrow?”

“We leave from my place at 0930 hours. The show begins at 1300 hours. It gives us time to park and have a leisurely walk to the theatre. I’ve been there before. The weather will be crisp. It’s still March.”

“I look forward to it.” Kaplan heard the phone disconnect. In less than a minute Skagan had made a date sound like a military mission. He had the time frame, transportation, and weather report for a civilian clothing decision. Kaplan felt this was her military environment speaking. In a civilian setting she was a human with feelings and normal desires.
How can I maneuver her into a discussion about plaster if the woman has romance on her mind? Do I really want to?

‡

Kaplan replaced the phone receiver and watched Boomer being escorted on the gurney with his two sidekicks. He had checked them out and they had no links to any cartel activity. They had only met Boomer here on G-1 and each one had arrived in different air-evacs from different air-evac departure sites.

Boomer waved to Kaplan who waved back. His pass to rove the hospital facilities was signed by Dr. Norman and release from G-1 on the pass was from Kaplan. Boomer looked out his oval plaster window at his ward mate at the foot of his gurney. “Hey guys what else is there to do besides the Gedunk and the movie theatre?”

Mickey Meaghan, the forward gurney steerer at Boomer’s feet, spoke first. “When the weather gets warmer we go outside. They set up softball, volleyball and badminton courts for us. I know you can’t join us but you could be our cheerleading section.”

“We all need the fresh air.” Angelo Novo added his voice from the rear of the gurney at Boomer’s head.

The Gedunk as the only military hospital coffee shop usually had more patients there than staff or hospital visitors as it did today. Novo overheard a group talking and pointing to Boomer, Meaghan, and him.

“I bet he can’t.” A uniformed marine raised his tone.

“Twenty-bucks says he can do it. That guy Boomer doesn’t have a pecker tube.” An Air Force sergeant looked back at his table of about seven fatigue-uniformed patients.

The two gamblers went over to Boomer’s table. The Gedunk had a section for wheelchair patients and the occasional gurney bearer. They discussed a deal with Boomer, Meaghan and Novo.

The Air Force sergeant discussed terms. “First I have to have proof that you can get a hard-on Boomer.”

“My erections still come and go like before I got blasted.” Boomer grinned.

“Not good enough,” a marine countered. “We need witnesses. Tomorrow after the 1200 hour mess we meet in the visitors head near F-1. You two bring Boomer.”

“Hey, no funny stuff in the restroom.” Angelo Novo stood up.

“Relax. We’ll bring magazines and photos that will give a blind man an erection. If Boomer gets it up we can plan our deal. I’ll tell ya the details if things go okay tomorrow.”

Boomer was all for it and motioned his two friends closer. “Meaghan, Novo–we could make a lot of money. I get a hard-on just thinking about getting laid. Any pictures or fold-outs they have should be a cinch.”

‡

LCDR Philomena Skagan put the phone receiver down.
He responded immediately. Good
. She knew he would. She sensed a strong mutual attraction between them–stronger now that they had passed a first bonding date based on mutual respect. Skagan had accepted the background story of his current Navy choice as hospital corpsman verses a naval officer. A projected future in the legal profession seemed to match his demeanor. He was a detail person like she was. His work ethic was meticulous like hers. Kaplan was also attractive, attentive and didn’t maneuver into her pants on their first date although she would have only offered token resistance. She winced at this thought.
I actually like Ike Kaplan. It’s more than a hormonal attraction–I just know it. I’ll leave it up to God and let whatever happens happen.

Special Services had several options for plays and musicals with good seats available for military active duty personnel. She chose the revival of Kiss Me Kate because it had elements of comedy, well-known delightful tunes and was a story-within-a-story. It had a gangster element infiltrating a musical cast and was in the final analysis about romance in a real way. Romance was complicated. It was not straight forward or simple. Skagan reflected on her own situation. Kaplan was an enlisted man and she was an officer and traditionally they should not fraternize.

“Oops, excuse me ma’am.” G-3 Corpsman Amstel Perkins bumped into her as they each turned a corridor corner.

“Out of your assigned G-3 element aren’t you Perkins?” Skagan brushed herself off as if Perkins had left a residue from their physical accident.

“I’m on my way to the ER to get today’s air-evac list for Dr. Norman ma’am.”

“For Dr. Norman? Doesn’t he get it firsthand himself?” Skagan raised her eyebrows.

“It’s just a routine we’ve developed ma’am. I mean Dr. Norman is so busy I get the list and have it sorted out as to medical specialty–kind of a pre-triage. Dr. Norman actually worked it out and it’s a real time saver.”

“Well that’s interesting. So if I can’t find Dr. Norman or Ike Kaplan I can page you and get the orthopedic air-evac mix early?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Perkins shifted around her and began moving away to continue to the ER.

“I might be calling you Perkins.” Skagan wrote a memo in her tiny scut note pad.

‡

Perkins looked back at her petite curvy profile. He felt uneasy.
The less I have to with LCDR “Tight Ass” Skagan the better.

Perkins was unaware that his encounter with Skagan had an observer and a listener.

So Perkins is the first to see the air-evac list and he triages the patients before anyone else sees it. Yes this is indeed very interesting. I think I’ll continue to follow Amstel Perkins and find some way to bring mail into the ER during one his pre-triage actions
. Sebastian Remo needed a way to get authorization to be in the ER and he knew a way to do it.