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The Lieutenant’s Story

The Lieutenant’s Story The mines were laid in orderly arrays by German boys so sure they would prevail, so sure that they’d return one day to dig them up. So said my father when the conversation turned to IEDs and amputees, breaking seventy years of silence about his Normandy platoon. “They're treating them much better, now,” he said, as he recalled his sergeant running back into the field, the tally one mine short— and then his foot attached only by the big tendon in back, which the medic cut. All of them cursing, the morphine injector failing to pierce khaki till the sergeant said, “Lieutenant, it’d work better if you took the guard off that needle.” After the war he got a letter from that Kentucky sergeant who wrote, “ I got my rifle, my mule, and my dog. I’m happy.” My father smiled when he told that part. http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png JAMA American Medical Association

The Lieutenant’s Story

JAMA , Volume 306 (10) – Sep 14, 2011

The Lieutenant’s Story

Abstract

The mines were laid in orderly arrays by German boys so sure they would prevail, so sure that they’d return one day to dig them up. So said my father when the conversation turned to IEDs and amputees, breaking seventy years of silence about his Normandy platoon. “They're treating them much better, now,” he said, as he recalled his sergeant running back into the field, the tally one mine short— and then his foot attached only by the big tendon in back, which the...
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Publisher
American Medical Association
Copyright
Copyright © 2011 American Medical Association. All Rights Reserved.
ISSN
0098-7484
eISSN
1538-3598
DOI
10.1001/jama.2011.1192
Publisher site
See Article on Publisher Site

Abstract

The mines were laid in orderly arrays by German boys so sure they would prevail, so sure that they’d return one day to dig them up. So said my father when the conversation turned to IEDs and amputees, breaking seventy years of silence about his Normandy platoon. “They're treating them much better, now,” he said, as he recalled his sergeant running back into the field, the tally one mine short— and then his foot attached only by the big tendon in back, which the medic cut. All of them cursing, the morphine injector failing to pierce khaki till the sergeant said, “Lieutenant, it’d work better if you took the guard off that needle.” After the war he got a letter from that Kentucky sergeant who wrote, “ I got my rifle, my mule, and my dog. I’m happy.” My father smiled when he told that part.

Journal

JAMAAmerican Medical Association

Published: Sep 14, 2011

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