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18 HOMECOMING I WAS SURPRISED BY THE MASS OUTPOURING OF GENUINE affection for us. Thousands of men, women and children, in military and civilian garb, thronged the airport and lined the route to the hospital. We had heard so much about antiwar protesters and those who despised any link with the war that we did not expect the rousing welcome given us. Especially moving were the hand-scrawled signs held high by kids: WE LOVE YOU! Many of those along the route gave the thumbs-up sign. It was a sweet and wonderful homecoming because it was so unforeseen. As we set foot in the hospital I took a deep breath. How good it felt to inhale the clean, fresh air after the stench of human fertilizer in Vietnam! And the walls and floors! I marveled at their scrubbed and shiny look. We were still in the tropics but what a marked difference already! My first priority after dumping my gear in a room of half a dozen beds, each enclosed by a curtain, was to take a shower. This was going to be with hot water, not like the cold dribble we got from the makeshift outdoor shower at the Pigsty. Armed with sweet-smelling soap and a tube of shampoo, I stood under the sprinkler for a full hour, cleansing the grime and washing away the smell of the past. Over and over I shampooed my hair, massaging my scalp vigorously, as if it was infested with fleas. The stream of hot water flowed over my shoulders and down my body like a steamy balm, relaxing the muscles and softening my skin. Serenely drowsy, I sensed for the first time the full impact of my restored freedom. The cuffs were broken, the ropes severed. Nobody hovered close to hurry me up, to bark orders or to regulate my movements. I could take my own sweet time and indulge myself. I had not experienced such physical and mental well-being since the hotsie baths at Atsugi. And to think, I could shower the following day and luxuriate all over again! Now my thoughts turned to food. I had not eaten a square meal the whole day and was famished. I had it all planned. I could hardly wait to get into the steak and eggs and the side orders. But we were told to wait first for a 260 HOMECOMING 261 preliminary medical check and it was several hours before the team of doctors appeared. "Let's see now. Do you have any major problems?*' "No." "Any big injuries?" "No." "Can you move everything?" "Yeah." "Is there nothing wrong with you right now?" "Well doc, probably the biggest problem right now is the worms." "Worms?" I told them about all the parasites that had wriggled out into my pants since 1967, always after a seizure of belly cramps. "Mmm, we'd better put you on a bland diet and start giving you some pills." They gave me a slip with the words bland diet and I went with the others down to the dining room. As I picked up a tray a guy took my slip and handed me my meal. The centerpiece was a hamburger pattie, smaller than the palm of my hand, a dollop of mashed potatoes and a few string beans. Beside this was a glass of skimmed milk. I found a table and sat down. But then I saw other guys passing by holding trays heaped with steaks and eggs, salads, banana splits, milkshakesand everythingwe had dreamed of. A horde of them swarmed around an ice cream bar to pile on even more food. "What's going on?" I asked Air Force Lt. Bob Peel sitting with me. "How come they're all eating that?" Bob looked devastated. "I don't know. You got a bland diet, too?" "Yeah, but the hell with this!" "C'mon!" I said, "Let's get in that line!" "Right behind you!" The orderly who had directed us to our table tried to steer us away. "You're on a bland diet, sir, you can't line up here." "The hell we can't! If they can, we can! We've been eating garbage for years!" "Yes, sir!" I filled my plate with a huge steak, french fries, three eggs, toast, a milkshake and coffee. Ah! It tasted so good! We didn't eat—we devoured. Midway through the feast, some of the medical staff stopped at our table and...

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