Charlotte Goerlich
U.S. Navy
I reported to Hunter College in New York City in August 1944. I had never slept in an upper bunk, and the first
night I slept on my stomach and held on tightly. We were on the 6th floor and walked that several times a day no
use of any elevators. We were given aptitude tests, and I qualified for 6 things - 5 along the clerical line and
one for medical corps. That's the one I chose – had always wanted to be a nurse when I was a kid. I was sent to
Bethesda Naval Hospital in Bethesda, MD. We worked and studied so hard that it was the first time that I was ever
homesick. I think that we spent 8 weeks there, only to learn about 50 years later that previous classes had been
3-4 months. My rate there was hospital apprentice 2nd class. We learned to give a hypodermic to an orange, only
to learn later that that's not the same as giving it to a human being.
We took our meals in the hospital, and I could tell from the patients we saw there that we weren't even beginning
to see the worst cases. We studied a lot, but the time went quickly. We worked hard, and I remember polishing the
floor with a buffer. When we were finished there and took our tests, I was promoted to HA 1/C. then it was time
to choose the hospital we wanted. We were told that if we were from the East coast not to even think about applying
for a hospital on the West coast or in Hawaii. They were saved for the WAVES from those areas. Philadelphia wasn't
available then. I think that the next nearest hospital was in Camp Lejeune, NC, which is probably the largest Marine
base on the East Coast, if not in the country. I chose that. The town nearest the camp is Jacksonville, NC. At
that time, it was just like a town in the western movies - stand at one end of the street and look straight through
to the other end of town. Jayville has grown quite a bit since then. They had a wonderful USO right on the lake
there, though; and it was still there when my husband and I drove through there in the '80s. Since I was in the
hospital corps, most of my experiences were people experiences. The first ward I was assigned to was the ulcer
ward. We had very few bed patients there, perhaps about 8 or 10. I remember one time that it was my turn to take
TPRs (temperature, pulse, and respiration) that the one black marine we had there told me that I wasn't from the
South. Being a military institution, they couldn't discriminate; so his bed wasn't the last one in line. I just
took his TPRs right in line. If I had been from the South, I would have taken his TPR last.
One night, we had an unconscious marine brought in with a bleeding ulcer. One of my friends insisted in going into
his room to take care of him and wouldn't let any other WAVES in there. On our way back to the barracks, she told
me that she was going to marry him. I tried to convince her that she knew nothing about him - what his voice sounded
like, if he were married or had a girlfriend - nothing; but she insisted. It reminds me of the movie, "While
you were sleeping". Anyway, about 3 months later, I was her maid of honor. She got out of the navy soon after
that. While I was in that ward, a marine in his early 40s died; and his wife gave permission for an autopsy to
be performed. We were told that if we could get the time off from our post and wanted to attend, we could. I did.
The body is an amazing piece of machinery. I went to lunch immediately after that. Needless to say, I wasn't very
hungry. Shortly after that, I was transferred to the Family Hospital where I worked in post delivery. Nothing exciting
happened there. President Roosevelt was visiting the base one-day, and we had to clean like crazy for him. He went
right on past our hospital. I never did find out whether or not he went into the main hospital.
Before too long, I was transferred to the enlisted women's ward in the main hospital. That was interesting, because
they had all kinds of cases there - surgery and medical. Then I took a test, for pharmacist mate 3/C and was made
secretary on the women's ward. We had one woman marine brought in late one night unconscious. A bunch of them had
been out partying and had been involved in a car accident. She must have hit the windshield. Her face was a mass
of tiny little cuts. Her parents lived in the Aldan Park Manor in Phila. Her mother came to the hospital and stayed
with her until she was transferred to Bethesda. She never regained consciousness while at Camp Lejeune. We didn't
have the plastic surgery then that we now have. If she regained consciousness, she would have been scarred for
life. While I was working on this ward, someone told me that a marine on the surgical ward knew me and wanted to
see me. I visited him but didn't know him. It turned out that he had graduated the year behind me from Lower Merion
High School. How he knew that I was there, I'm sure that he told me; but I don't remember. Right about that time,
two marines from Cherry Point, NC were brought in. They had been in a foxhole; and their heater had exploded, burning
both of them on their buttocks. When they stopped hurting so much, even they had to laugh. Soon after that, I passed
the test for second class and was made secretary to the chief of medicine. He didn't spend much time in the office.
One of my jobs was to call the type and number of contagious diseases we had that day to the Center for Contagious
Diseases Control in Georgia. (I think that that's the name for it.)
Just because you had an 8 - 4 job didn't mean that your nights were all yours. You still had to do some special
duty. One in particular stand out with me - standing watch on a 19-month-old boy whom had spinal meningitis. There
was another case in the hospital at the same time - a marine. I was discharged in March 1946 and met my husband
just 10 days later. There were other things, but the above stand out most with me.
