“I grew up rescuing little animals. I was also kind of crazy and smart. I read a lot and wanted to travel. But this was in the sixties, and there weren’t many opportunities in the South for girls. It was get married, get pregnant, and have kids. I wasn’t never one of those. I went to nursing school in Mobile, so I could be an airline stewardess. See, back then, they were hiring nurses real quick. They wanted nurses to fly, and I wanted to travel. 

I graduated from nursing school in 1967 and went to New York with a friend to work at a Jewish summer camp for a couple of years. One summer, Woodstock was happening close by. I didn’t know anything about it and went with friends. I wasn’t prepared, but we had a good time. They also landed on the moon that summer. That October, I went into the Air Force so I could go to Vietnam. I loved the emergency room, and the Vietnam War was the biggest ER in the world. The guys were going, why couldn’t I go, too? I wanted to see what was happening.

Kincheloe was my first Air Force base. It was an obscure B-52 base in Michigan. It was cold as with snow up to the bumper of my car. The Air Force recruiter talked to my class of doctors and nurses when we were learning how to salute and wear uniforms. You can imagine how reverent we were. Someone asked me why I was going. Somebody’s got to take care of the guys getting shot. Y’all are sending all these people over there. Who’s going to take care of them? Vietnam needed medical people, so there we were.

Before I left for Vietnam in 1970, I went camping and did drugs in Big Sur with a Navy SEAL for five days. Didn’t everyone do that? A friend dropped me off at the airport with my bags. I had my hair all down long and my little short dress on. I walked into the bathroom to change.  I came out of that bathroom wearing my uniform as a second lieutenant.

I was sent to Da Nang and took care of patients at night. I liked working at night. The guys would be surprised to see women. They had been in the bush and had no idea women were over there until they got in the hospital and were evacuated out. There were a bunch of women over there; I thought it was normal. 

We kept each other sane. We adopted a dog; the pilots named him Muffy because they had the Muff Divers lounge. The lounge was two rooms together: one for sleeping and the other for playing the stereo and drinking when they got home. They were bombing the piss out of shit all day long, and getting shot at. They’d come back in and eat and drink.

Those guys were my buddies, my brothers. I was also in a band with five Black guys. I was the only officer and had to get my commander’s permission to be in that little band–they were kind of sticks in the mud. The name of our band was Unified Family. We played rhythm and blues and rock and roll at the officers’ clubs. I can’t sing for shit, but I could harmonize and play tambourine. I was tall and long-legged with auburn hair down to my waist. I was kind of like their girl. 

I treated Vietnam as an adventure, and my personality buffered me from a lot of shit. We saw 2-300 patients every day before they flew out. They’d already been patched up, but we saw plenty of blood and guts. 

There were bombings around us, but we kept working. I was chatting with a guy while I was starting his IV with a big needle. Suddenly, a bomb landed close by. Almost everybody but hit the floor; they’re under the beds with IVs hanging up. My guy didn’t move. I was like, ‘Why aren’t you falling? He said, ‘Lieutenant, unless I see it hit three beds over, I’m not moving.’ He had just been blown up in the bush. He’s seen worse. 

I nearly threw up one time and had to leave a patient while I was changing his dressing. Both eyes were blown out. That stuff can get to you, so I learned not to think about it. I could work for 12 hours, and turn it off. I didn’t take what I saw home with me because I couldn’t do anything about it. They’re still back in my brain. Sometimes it pops out at night, but I don’t want to think about it. My friends say I have PTSD. I probably do, but I’m not going to let it bother me.

I do wonder what happened to the guys I helped. I heard from a few who had a hard time because the VA sucked. One of them needed prosthetic legs and the VA just gave him the stiff, horrible ones. I wish I had money to pay for better legs for him.

I was made a first lieutenant in Vietnam and a captain back in the States. I could always get a job as a nurse and was a flight nurse in Chicago. I also worked in California and Washington state. I went to Europe a lot and learned to ski in Switzerland. I went to Japan and Hong Kong a couple of times. The 70’s were a great time to see the world.

I was also a bit of a hermit. I lived with my daughter in New Orleans, and we rescued dogs and cats. My last move was in 2002 to land outside Picayune, MS. I became an animal rescue. I had seven Great Danes living with me. I took feral cats to the vet to get fixed and let ’em come out here to the woods. My first horse was a draft horse; I started out big because I drove draft horses. The last one was nearly 45 when he died. I’ve ended with a mishmash: dogs, cats, horses, donkeys, goats, pigs, geese and chickens. I have Great Pyrenees dogs that are the protectors. Nothing comes in from the woods and eats stuff, so now I have old chickens. I milk my goats. I also get good pork from the pigs that come in from the woods and never leave. My animals are safe and cared for, but the feed and hay bales cost a lot. 

I turned 79 in July. This is a retirement home for me and these animals. They were once thrown away and had nobody, so I get up everyday and take care of them. These animals keep my brain more sane. It’s better than Vodka.”

Sherdeane

(Photos courtesy of Sherdeane)