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Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Pearl Harbor Day: Nurse Rosella Asbelle
Telephone interview with Rosella Asbelle, Navy nurse at Pearl Harbor on 7 December 1941, and later assigned to Naval Hospital Oakland's Occupational Therapy Department with amputee patients during the Korean War. Conducted by Jan K. Herman, Historian, Bureau of Medicine and Surgery, 13 June 2002.
Where are you originally from?
I was born in Oklahoma but we came out to California when I was about 7 years old--a little town called Dinuba near Fresno.
Where did you go to nursing school?
I went to St. Mary's Hospital School of Nursing, San Francisco, CA.
And you were a Navy nurse.
I was very definitely a Navy nurse. I was at Pearl Harbor on December 7th, 1941.
What do you remember about that?
Everything. I saw Japanese planes coming over. They were so low, they were right on top of the building.
Then you knew Ruth Erickson.
We were all together. Ruth is a very knowledgeable person. I have all the addresses of the 29 Navy nurses who were at Pearl. We try to keep in touch with each other. I think there are about eight of us still living.
I remember vividly the planes flying over the buildings right next to the nurse's quarters. The nurse in the room next to me and I were looking out the window and she gasped, "Ahh, Rosella, it's war." I'll never forget that. The planes were just above the buildings. You could see the heads of the pilots.
Ruth Erickson told me that they were so close that if you had known who they were, you could have recognized them.
That's right. One came over the building so low, maybe at the height of a flagpole. You could see their heads. This grinning Japanese guy probably was thinking, "Boy, we've got you where we want you." I'll never forget that guy with the goggles and the smile on his face.
Did you have duty that morning?
It was 8 o'clock in the morning and I don't remember if I had duty that morning. But it didn't take long before the chief nurse called everybody over to the wards and casualties started coming in. And they continued coming in throughout the day. The heads or toilets were right outside the wards and there was a walkway between the ward and the head. The bodies were laid out like stacks of wood on that passageway connecting the ward and the toilet.
Did you work in the surgical area?
I was in the surgical ward and when they needed surgery they went to the operating room. Later on, I was transferred to the burn ward because there were so many people who were burned from the fires.
I read that you sprayed tannic acid on the burns.
That's right.
You must have seen some pretty horrible things that day.
It was really tragic. These kids were so young and so burned. I remember a radio blaring the song, "I Don't Want to Set the World On Fire," when some kid at the end of the ward yelled out, "Lady, you're too late. It's done been set." At that time, the wards had anywhere from 20 to 30 patients per ward. And I was on the burn ward. These kids were all lined up with tannic acid applications all over.
The saddest thing, though, was having night duty. That's when these severely burned kids would die. And you'd know when that was going to happen. Many a time, I'd sit by the bed of a young man, boy, who was burned, as he died talking about his family. It was generally about 4:30 or 5:30 in the morning when most of them went. You'd hold their hands and talk to them about their families.
That must have been terribly sad for you.
Yes. These kids were so young.
I'm sure that even if you don't remember everything that happened subsequently at Oakland, you'll probably never forget that day as long as you live.
I don't think anyone would.
We've previously posted Nurse Arbelle's entire oral history.
Remembering Pearl Harbor
Every December 7th my thoughts turn to those who witnessed that "date of infamy," an event that truly changed the course of history. As Medical Department historian, I've had the rare privilege of meeting and recording the memories of some our medical veterans--physicians, nurses, dentists, and hospital corpsmen--who not only survived the Japanese attack, but helped treat the victims. On this Pearl Harbor Day we'd like to share excerpts from some of those oral histories. Check back throughout the day to help us commemorate this World War II event. - Jan Herman
Monday, December 5, 2011
Echoes of Navy Medicine's Past: Loblollies and Mess Decks
Part I: Loblollies and Messdecks (1775-1860)
By Jan K. Herman and Mr. Grog
Where there’s conflict there is always the need for medical care. The first shots of the American Revolution fired at Lexington and Concord on 19 April 1775 marked both the birth of a nation and the Continental Army. However, it was the British blockade of the American coast and the need to break that blockade that spawned the Continental Navy and Navy Medical Department.
In October 1775, the Continental Congress voted to fund the Continental Navy to augment the existing force of privateers and state vessels. The ships in this tiny fleet—Alfred, Andrew Doria, Cabot, Providence, Columbus, and Hornet—housed sick bays where Continental Navy physicians practiced their healing art. Surgeons and surgeons mates hired by the Continental Congress represented the early Navy Medical Department.
Drs. Joseph Harrison, Thomas Kerr, and Henry Tillinghast were some of these medical pioneers. Assisting them in the daily care of the sick and wounded were personnel called “loblolly boys,” enlisted boys and men named for the thick porridge or “loblolly” they rationed out to the sick. Loblollies also provided containers for amputated limbs, hot tar for cauterizing stumps, and sand for spreading on decks to absorb blood shed during combat and surgical procedures.
The Continental Navy did not long survive the Treaty of Paris in 1783. The United States was without a naval fleet until 1794 when Congress authorized the construction of six new vessels to defend its ever growing commercial interests. These warships, which became the nucleus of the new United States Navy, each had a surgeon, and, for the larger vessels of 36 guns, two additional surgeon’s mates.
The Department of the Navy came about on 30 April 1798 during the “Quasi-War” with France. A significant development during this period was the shore hospitalization of sick and disabled seamen. By an act of 1798, Navy sailors could now be admitted to civilian hospitals designated by directors appointed in ports of entry. These directors paid the incurred expenses from a Marine (later Navy) Hospital Fund maintained by monthly deductions of 20 cents from every merchant and Navy seaman, naval officer, and Marine. Subsequently, Navy hospitals were established in Syracuse, Sicily (1804) and New Orleans, Louisiana (1810) but neither hospital survived very long.
On 26 February 1811, Congress approved “An Act establishing Navy Hospitals.” The Act directed that money collected from naval personnel and the unexpended balance from the Marine Hospital Fund should be paid to the Secretaries of the Navy, Treasury, and Army. These were to act as the so-called “commissioners” of Navy hospitals. The commissioners were authorized to choose suitable sites for permanent hospitals and were then to construct buildings at these locations.
A decade went by before the first site was selected at Washington, DC, in 1821. This was followed by the acquisition of other sites—Chelsea, MA (1823); Brooklyn, NY (1824); Philadelphia, PA (1826); and Norfolk, VA (1827). In 1830, the Naval Hospital at Norfolk became the first of these facilities to admit patients, followed soon thereafter by the Philadelphia Naval Hospital located in the famed Naval Asylum. This multi-tasked institution, designed by noted architect William Strickland, also served as the home of a Navy school that would soon after morph in the U.S. Naval Academy in 1845.
What was health care in the early days of the U.S. Navy? Fortunately, the writings of some early Navy health practitioners provide some answers. While serving aboard USS United States, Surgeon Edward Cutbush, later dubbed the “Nestor of the Navy Medical Department,” reported that venereal diseases and diarrhea were quite common among the crew. He also reported their state of mental health. There were days, he said, in which sailors seemed “very low” and labored “under Nostalgia or a constant desire to return [home].” Surgeon’s Mate Benjamin Harris of USS Philadelphia reported that venereal diseases and influenza were common, and he treated the latter through “copious bleedings and other evacuations.” Harris stated that injuries from accidents during the warship’s Caribbean cruise were frequent in the early part of the voyage because of the crew’s inexperience. Scurvy also posed a problem for Harris and other Navy surgeons until 1812 when citrus fruits were issued to ships regularly at the urging of William P.C. Barton, Navy surgeon and future Chief of the Bureau of Medicine and Surgery.
Following the Revolutionary War, the United States Navy fought against France, the Barbary Pirates, and Britain in the War of 1812. Throughout these conflicts, the duties of the Navy surgeon were quite defined. The surgeon visited sailors under his care at least twice a day, supervised surgeon’s mates, consulted with other surgeons in the squadron about difficult cases, daily informed the captain of his patients’ condition, and was expected to be prepared with his mates and assistants for battle. He kept a day-book, containing the names of his patients, their prescriptions and methods of treatment, when and how they became ill or injured, when they recovered or died, and when they were discharged to duty. From this document, he made two journals: a record of his “physical” practice and a journal of his “chirurgical” practice. At the end of each voyage he sent the two journals to the Navy Department. When ordering patients to hospitals, he was to send with them a record of their cases. The Navy surgeon was only authorized to send sailors to hospitals and sick quarters when they could not be adequately cared for aboard ship. He had charge of the requisition, inspection, storage, accounting, and dispensation of all medical supplies used aboard his ship. Upon receipt of defective or faulty supplies, the surgeon was to notify the captain. He also forwarded accounts of medical supplies received and consumed to the accountant of the Navy at the end of each cruise.
Although the early Navy medical community was small, many giants paved the way to today’s modern organization. Surgeon Edward Cutbush (1772-1843), a former doctor in the Pennsylvania militia, authored Observations on the Means of Preserving the Health of Soldiers and Sailors (1808). In this pioneering text, Dr. Cutbush proposed techniques for cleaning, disinfecting, ventilating, and drying ships. He advocated strict physical examinations of all recruits coming aboard to eliminate disease. Cutbush also urged sailors to wear their hair short, to shave regularly, and to wash themselves and their clothing.
Surgeon William Paul Crillon Barton (1786-1856), the son of the United States Seal’s designer and nephew of a well-known American botanist, proposed that Navy ships be better equipped for the care of the sick and wounded. He also suggested a system for organizing Marine hospitals and adopting better physical standards in recruiting. Barton emphasized that sick days compiled by the Navy were traced to the practice of accepting mentally and physically unfit sailors for duty. Dr. Barton experimented with lime juice and lemonade aboard ships years before the Navy recognized the importance of antiscorbutic treatment for the dreaded vitamin C deficiency. He was also one of the first to propose that female nurses “be included among Navy personnel.”
Surgeon Lewis Heermann (1779-1833), who served under LT Stephen Decatur in the war with the Tripolitan pirates, later established a naval hospital in New Orleans with his own funds. Andrew Jackson’s troops used this hospital after repelling the British invasion of New Orleans in 1815. The well traveled and educated physician’s organization of this short-lived hospital served as a model for future naval hospitals.
Surgeon Thomas Harris (1784-1861) founded in 1822 what is considered to be the first U.S. Navy medical school. Located in Philadelphia, school instructors taught newly commissioned Navy medical officers hygiene, military surgery, and naval customs.
It can be argued that the Navy Medical Department, or more accurately, the doctors who comprised the Navy medical community, were treated unequally compared to their compatriots in the rest of the U.S. Navy. For one, Navy physicians’ salaries were a great source of dissatisfaction. Drs. Barton, Cutbush, and Heermann protested against the paltry remunerations, stating that their pay should be at least equal to their counterparts in the U.S. Army, let alone the physicians in the British Navy.
Rank was another concern. Navy medical men were classified simply as surgeons or surgeon’s mates and did not have relative rank with naval officers. The Act of 24 May 1828 for the “Better Organization of the Medical Department of the Navy” marked the first time the status of personnel in the Navy Medical Department received serious attention. In this act, the title “assistant surgeon” replaced the designation surgeon’s mate. The act stated that all candidates for appointments as surgeon or assistant surgeon must first appear before and be approved by the Board of Naval Surgeons, that no person could be appointed as surgeon until he had served at least two years on board a public vessel of the U.S at sea, followed by an examination and approval for promotion by a Board of Naval Surgeons. After satisfying the requirements of the Examining Board, the assistant surgeon still would not receive an appointment as surgeon until surgeon vacancies occurred. During the waiting period, the successful candidate was known as “passed assistant surgeon,” a status that was not officially classified until 1898.
The same act created the title of “Surgeon of the Fleet” which authorized the president to designate and appoint to every fleet or squadron an “experienced and intelligent surgeon, then in the naval service.” The Fleet Surgeon was to serve in the flagship and be generally responsible for all medical matters within the fleet or squadron in which serving.
In the Act of 3 March 1835, Congress first considered surgeons and assistant surgeons as officers when these positions were finally subject to the same pay scale as Navy line officers. The General Order of August 1846 finally conferred relative rank to physicians serving in the Navy. “Commanding and executive officers, of whatever grade, when on duty, will take precedence over all medical officers. This order confers no authority to exercise military command, and no additional right to quarters.” By this General Order, surgeons of the fleet and surgeons with more than 12 years service were to have equivalent rank of commanders.
In addition to issues of rank and pay, Navy medicine also had organizational problems. On 31 August 1842, Congress passed a Navy appropriations bill that was a blueprint for efficiency. The legislation provided for five bureaus to replace the outdated Board of Navy Commissioners—Yards and Docks; Construction, Equipment, and Repair; Provisions and Clothing; Ordnance and Hydrography; and Medicine and Surgery. The president appointed a chief to head each bureau.
The Bureau of Medicine and Surgery (BUMED) became the central administrative headquarters for the Navy Medical Department, and those names became interchangeable. The General Order of 26 November 1842, which defined the duties of the new bureaus, charged BUMED with:
-All medicines and medical stores of every description, used in the treatment of the sick, the diseased and the wounded;
-All boxes, vials, and other vessels containing the same;
-All clothing, beds, and bedding for the sick;
-All surgical instruments of every kind;
-The management of hospitals, so far as the patients therein are concerned;
-All appliances of every sort, used in surgical and medical practice;
-All contracts, accounts, and returns, relating to these and such other subjects as shall hereafter be assigned to this bureau.
BUMED’s establishment contributed a great deal to the Medical Department’s development and efficiency. The availability and quality of medical supplies and equipment improved. The year 1853 saw the construction of the naval hospital at Annapolis, MD, and the establishment of the Naval laboratory in Brooklyn, NY. The lab, headed by Surgeon Benjamin F. Bache and Passed Assistant Surgeon Edward R. Squibb, experimented with the production of chloroform and ether anesthesia. Squibb’s major contribution was providing the Navy Medical Department with a reliable source of pure pharmaceuticals. In 1857, Dr. Squibb resigned from the Navy and founded the pharmaceutical house that bears his name.
What kind of medicine did Navy surgeons practice in the mid-nineteenth century and how was it different from the practice of their Army colleagues? The instruments of civilian manufacture were similar. A Navy physician’s surgical kit was almost identical to that of an Army physician, and, most likely, carried the same brand name. A surgical scalpel was a surgical scalpel, a tourniquet a tourniquet, the treatment of choice for a shattered limb was amputation. Indeed, many Army and Navy surgeons attended the same medical schools.
The difference was the environment in which the naval surgeon practiced. The maritime venue was decidedly different from the battlefield. Certainly the marine theater had its own unique hazards—handling of anchor gear, hoisting apparatus, dangers incident to storms or heavy weather at sea, falls from mast tops, spills down hatchways and ladders, being struck by a lead line, being caught between boats and gangways on ships and docks, entanglement in parting lines or cables when mooring or unmooring. The term loose cannon had an original and more deadly meaning. Sailors fell overboard and either drowned or died of hypothermia. Fire caused by spilled oil or kerosene lamps below decks was a constant and sometimes fatal hazard. Contagious respiratory diseases ran through close packed living spaces, leaving entire crews incapacitated.
By the eve of the Civil War, Navy medicine already had one foot firmly placed in the new age of steam. The new technology of ironclad ships and rifled guns would soon add a very new dimension to treating the sick and wounded.
By Jan K. Herman and Mr. Grog
Where there’s conflict there is always the need for medical care. The first shots of the American Revolution fired at Lexington and Concord on 19 April 1775 marked both the birth of a nation and the Continental Army. However, it was the British blockade of the American coast and the need to break that blockade that spawned the Continental Navy and Navy Medical Department.
In October 1775, the Continental Congress voted to fund the Continental Navy to augment the existing force of privateers and state vessels. The ships in this tiny fleet—Alfred, Andrew Doria, Cabot, Providence, Columbus, and Hornet—housed sick bays where Continental Navy physicians practiced their healing art. Surgeons and surgeons mates hired by the Continental Congress represented the early Navy Medical Department.
Drs. Joseph Harrison, Thomas Kerr, and Henry Tillinghast were some of these medical pioneers. Assisting them in the daily care of the sick and wounded were personnel called “loblolly boys,” enlisted boys and men named for the thick porridge or “loblolly” they rationed out to the sick. Loblollies also provided containers for amputated limbs, hot tar for cauterizing stumps, and sand for spreading on decks to absorb blood shed during combat and surgical procedures.
The Continental Navy did not long survive the Treaty of Paris in 1783. The United States was without a naval fleet until 1794 when Congress authorized the construction of six new vessels to defend its ever growing commercial interests. These warships, which became the nucleus of the new United States Navy, each had a surgeon, and, for the larger vessels of 36 guns, two additional surgeon’s mates.
The Department of the Navy came about on 30 April 1798 during the “Quasi-War” with France. A significant development during this period was the shore hospitalization of sick and disabled seamen. By an act of 1798, Navy sailors could now be admitted to civilian hospitals designated by directors appointed in ports of entry. These directors paid the incurred expenses from a Marine (later Navy) Hospital Fund maintained by monthly deductions of 20 cents from every merchant and Navy seaman, naval officer, and Marine. Subsequently, Navy hospitals were established in Syracuse, Sicily (1804) and New Orleans, Louisiana (1810) but neither hospital survived very long.
On 26 February 1811, Congress approved “An Act establishing Navy Hospitals.” The Act directed that money collected from naval personnel and the unexpended balance from the Marine Hospital Fund should be paid to the Secretaries of the Navy, Treasury, and Army. These were to act as the so-called “commissioners” of Navy hospitals. The commissioners were authorized to choose suitable sites for permanent hospitals and were then to construct buildings at these locations.
A decade went by before the first site was selected at Washington, DC, in 1821. This was followed by the acquisition of other sites—Chelsea, MA (1823); Brooklyn, NY (1824); Philadelphia, PA (1826); and Norfolk, VA (1827). In 1830, the Naval Hospital at Norfolk became the first of these facilities to admit patients, followed soon thereafter by the Philadelphia Naval Hospital located in the famed Naval Asylum. This multi-tasked institution, designed by noted architect William Strickland, also served as the home of a Navy school that would soon after morph in the U.S. Naval Academy in 1845.
What was health care in the early days of the U.S. Navy? Fortunately, the writings of some early Navy health practitioners provide some answers. While serving aboard USS United States, Surgeon Edward Cutbush, later dubbed the “Nestor of the Navy Medical Department,” reported that venereal diseases and diarrhea were quite common among the crew. He also reported their state of mental health. There were days, he said, in which sailors seemed “very low” and labored “under Nostalgia or a constant desire to return [home].” Surgeon’s Mate Benjamin Harris of USS Philadelphia reported that venereal diseases and influenza were common, and he treated the latter through “copious bleedings and other evacuations.” Harris stated that injuries from accidents during the warship’s Caribbean cruise were frequent in the early part of the voyage because of the crew’s inexperience. Scurvy also posed a problem for Harris and other Navy surgeons until 1812 when citrus fruits were issued to ships regularly at the urging of William P.C. Barton, Navy surgeon and future Chief of the Bureau of Medicine and Surgery.
Following the Revolutionary War, the United States Navy fought against France, the Barbary Pirates, and Britain in the War of 1812. Throughout these conflicts, the duties of the Navy surgeon were quite defined. The surgeon visited sailors under his care at least twice a day, supervised surgeon’s mates, consulted with other surgeons in the squadron about difficult cases, daily informed the captain of his patients’ condition, and was expected to be prepared with his mates and assistants for battle. He kept a day-book, containing the names of his patients, their prescriptions and methods of treatment, when and how they became ill or injured, when they recovered or died, and when they were discharged to duty. From this document, he made two journals: a record of his “physical” practice and a journal of his “chirurgical” practice. At the end of each voyage he sent the two journals to the Navy Department. When ordering patients to hospitals, he was to send with them a record of their cases. The Navy surgeon was only authorized to send sailors to hospitals and sick quarters when they could not be adequately cared for aboard ship. He had charge of the requisition, inspection, storage, accounting, and dispensation of all medical supplies used aboard his ship. Upon receipt of defective or faulty supplies, the surgeon was to notify the captain. He also forwarded accounts of medical supplies received and consumed to the accountant of the Navy at the end of each cruise.
Although the early Navy medical community was small, many giants paved the way to today’s modern organization. Surgeon Edward Cutbush (1772-1843), a former doctor in the Pennsylvania militia, authored Observations on the Means of Preserving the Health of Soldiers and Sailors (1808). In this pioneering text, Dr. Cutbush proposed techniques for cleaning, disinfecting, ventilating, and drying ships. He advocated strict physical examinations of all recruits coming aboard to eliminate disease. Cutbush also urged sailors to wear their hair short, to shave regularly, and to wash themselves and their clothing.
Surgeon William Paul Crillon Barton (1786-1856), the son of the United States Seal’s designer and nephew of a well-known American botanist, proposed that Navy ships be better equipped for the care of the sick and wounded. He also suggested a system for organizing Marine hospitals and adopting better physical standards in recruiting. Barton emphasized that sick days compiled by the Navy were traced to the practice of accepting mentally and physically unfit sailors for duty. Dr. Barton experimented with lime juice and lemonade aboard ships years before the Navy recognized the importance of antiscorbutic treatment for the dreaded vitamin C deficiency. He was also one of the first to propose that female nurses “be included among Navy personnel.”
Surgeon Lewis Heermann (1779-1833), who served under LT Stephen Decatur in the war with the Tripolitan pirates, later established a naval hospital in New Orleans with his own funds. Andrew Jackson’s troops used this hospital after repelling the British invasion of New Orleans in 1815. The well traveled and educated physician’s organization of this short-lived hospital served as a model for future naval hospitals.
Surgeon Thomas Harris (1784-1861) founded in 1822 what is considered to be the first U.S. Navy medical school. Located in Philadelphia, school instructors taught newly commissioned Navy medical officers hygiene, military surgery, and naval customs.
It can be argued that the Navy Medical Department, or more accurately, the doctors who comprised the Navy medical community, were treated unequally compared to their compatriots in the rest of the U.S. Navy. For one, Navy physicians’ salaries were a great source of dissatisfaction. Drs. Barton, Cutbush, and Heermann protested against the paltry remunerations, stating that their pay should be at least equal to their counterparts in the U.S. Army, let alone the physicians in the British Navy.
Rank was another concern. Navy medical men were classified simply as surgeons or surgeon’s mates and did not have relative rank with naval officers. The Act of 24 May 1828 for the “Better Organization of the Medical Department of the Navy” marked the first time the status of personnel in the Navy Medical Department received serious attention. In this act, the title “assistant surgeon” replaced the designation surgeon’s mate. The act stated that all candidates for appointments as surgeon or assistant surgeon must first appear before and be approved by the Board of Naval Surgeons, that no person could be appointed as surgeon until he had served at least two years on board a public vessel of the U.S at sea, followed by an examination and approval for promotion by a Board of Naval Surgeons. After satisfying the requirements of the Examining Board, the assistant surgeon still would not receive an appointment as surgeon until surgeon vacancies occurred. During the waiting period, the successful candidate was known as “passed assistant surgeon,” a status that was not officially classified until 1898.
The same act created the title of “Surgeon of the Fleet” which authorized the president to designate and appoint to every fleet or squadron an “experienced and intelligent surgeon, then in the naval service.” The Fleet Surgeon was to serve in the flagship and be generally responsible for all medical matters within the fleet or squadron in which serving.
In the Act of 3 March 1835, Congress first considered surgeons and assistant surgeons as officers when these positions were finally subject to the same pay scale as Navy line officers. The General Order of August 1846 finally conferred relative rank to physicians serving in the Navy. “Commanding and executive officers, of whatever grade, when on duty, will take precedence over all medical officers. This order confers no authority to exercise military command, and no additional right to quarters.” By this General Order, surgeons of the fleet and surgeons with more than 12 years service were to have equivalent rank of commanders.
In addition to issues of rank and pay, Navy medicine also had organizational problems. On 31 August 1842, Congress passed a Navy appropriations bill that was a blueprint for efficiency. The legislation provided for five bureaus to replace the outdated Board of Navy Commissioners—Yards and Docks; Construction, Equipment, and Repair; Provisions and Clothing; Ordnance and Hydrography; and Medicine and Surgery. The president appointed a chief to head each bureau.
The Bureau of Medicine and Surgery (BUMED) became the central administrative headquarters for the Navy Medical Department, and those names became interchangeable. The General Order of 26 November 1842, which defined the duties of the new bureaus, charged BUMED with:
-All medicines and medical stores of every description, used in the treatment of the sick, the diseased and the wounded;
-All boxes, vials, and other vessels containing the same;
-All clothing, beds, and bedding for the sick;
-All surgical instruments of every kind;
-The management of hospitals, so far as the patients therein are concerned;
-All appliances of every sort, used in surgical and medical practice;
-All contracts, accounts, and returns, relating to these and such other subjects as shall hereafter be assigned to this bureau.
BUMED’s establishment contributed a great deal to the Medical Department’s development and efficiency. The availability and quality of medical supplies and equipment improved. The year 1853 saw the construction of the naval hospital at Annapolis, MD, and the establishment of the Naval laboratory in Brooklyn, NY. The lab, headed by Surgeon Benjamin F. Bache and Passed Assistant Surgeon Edward R. Squibb, experimented with the production of chloroform and ether anesthesia. Squibb’s major contribution was providing the Navy Medical Department with a reliable source of pure pharmaceuticals. In 1857, Dr. Squibb resigned from the Navy and founded the pharmaceutical house that bears his name.
What kind of medicine did Navy surgeons practice in the mid-nineteenth century and how was it different from the practice of their Army colleagues? The instruments of civilian manufacture were similar. A Navy physician’s surgical kit was almost identical to that of an Army physician, and, most likely, carried the same brand name. A surgical scalpel was a surgical scalpel, a tourniquet a tourniquet, the treatment of choice for a shattered limb was amputation. Indeed, many Army and Navy surgeons attended the same medical schools.
The difference was the environment in which the naval surgeon practiced. The maritime venue was decidedly different from the battlefield. Certainly the marine theater had its own unique hazards—handling of anchor gear, hoisting apparatus, dangers incident to storms or heavy weather at sea, falls from mast tops, spills down hatchways and ladders, being struck by a lead line, being caught between boats and gangways on ships and docks, entanglement in parting lines or cables when mooring or unmooring. The term loose cannon had an original and more deadly meaning. Sailors fell overboard and either drowned or died of hypothermia. Fire caused by spilled oil or kerosene lamps below decks was a constant and sometimes fatal hazard. Contagious respiratory diseases ran through close packed living spaces, leaving entire crews incapacitated.
By the eve of the Civil War, Navy medicine already had one foot firmly placed in the new age of steam. The new technology of ironclad ships and rifled guns would soon add a very new dimension to treating the sick and wounded.
Friday, December 2, 2011
The Art of the Tattoo in the Navy (as Seen by a Navy Medical Officer in 1908)
Dr. Ammen Farenholt (1871-1956)BUMED Library and Archives
Perhaps outside of the rum ration, nothing is more associated with the tars of the “old” U.S. Navy than the tattoo. In 1908, while serving aboard USS Indianapolis, Navy Surgeon Ammen Farenholt decided to conduct a study on practice of personal adornment in the Navy. His findings first published in the U.S. Navy Medical Bulletin (1908) is a fascinating time capsule offering a glimpse into the habits and interests of our Navy ancestors.
Tattooing in the Navy, as shown by the records of the USS Independence
Probability no class of persons has the opportunity to see such an amount and variety of tattooing as that upon whom duty of physical examination for a military or naval service devolves, and undoubtedly the latter presents the richer field. Why this form of personal adornment should be so popular with those whose profession it is to follow the sea is difficult to explain; but custom and sentiment without doubt keep alive a practice which, in the early days, was the mark of a true deep-water sailor and a necessary requisite to the beau ideal. The custom probably originated among the natives of the south-sea islands where at one time it was almost universally in vogue, whence it was carried by admiring voyagers to home ports an in turn imitated by the envious. The name is considered to have been derived from the Tahitian word “tatu,” of the same meaning.
While tattooing originated as an adornment of uncivilized peoples, it is far less common among them to-day [sic] than it was formerly, partly through the influence of missionaries; partly, also through the influence of public sentiment; and partly through Government interference, as is at present the case in Japan. On the other hand the total extent of this habit had probably never been greater than it is at the present time. Although it may be there is a slight decrease in the percentage of tattooed persons who adopt the sea as a means of livelihood, there is certainly a marked increase among those who travel and even among those live at a large distance from the influences of the sea. There is hardly any large city but has one or more professional tattooers, often ex-man-of-warsmen or Japanese, who advertise freely and who cater to the lure of this fascination.
Lombroso states that few people, with the fortunate exception of sailors, are tattooed who are not of the criminal class, or degenerate. While on shore it is probable that the custom is chiefly confined to the lower orders of society, the same can not be said of the seagoing population. I have recently examined the enlistment records of 3,572 men, being the enlistments on this vessel for a period of eight and one-half years, and have obtained the following data for that portion of our enlisted force:
Percentage of men found tattooed on examination for second and subsequent enlistments…………………..................53.61
Percentage of men found to be tattooed on examination for first enlistment…………………………………23.01
While the former figures give a fair estimate of tattooing among the “old timers,” it is a trifle under the correct estimate for the service as a whole, and I think it would be nearer the truth to say that about 60 per cent of persons who have served over ten years are thus marked. On the other hand it is not fair to assume that 23 per cent of all male civilians are tattooed because that was found to be the percentage among those who presented themselves for first enlistment, as a considerable proportion of applicants are seafaring men and as it is probable that some men conceal previous service. On inquiry, however, I have been surprised to find so many, probably 8 per cent of the recruits, who are tattooed and who deny having been at sea or even having lived in seaport towns. I think the custom is more common in camps and in places where men are collected in large numbers than is ordinarily imagined.
The designs were found to have been placed in the following locations according to numerical preponderance: (1) Forearms; (2) arms; (3) chest; (4) shoulders; (5) hands; (6) wrists; (7) legs; (8) feet; (9) back; (10) face; (11) penis.
The conventional designs in order of frequency were the following: (1) Letters; (2) coats of arms; (3) flags; (4) anchors; (5) eagles and birds; (6) stars; (7) female figures; (8) ships; (9) clasped hands; (10) dagger; (11) crosses; (12) bracelets; (13) hearts.
Letters, mottoes, initials, and allied devices lead the list and constitute about 26 per cent of all ink marks. Coats of arms and national emblems follow with about 25 per cent, then flags, anchors, etc., as is shown by the list above. Female figures are shown in 18 per cent of all tattooing; but if all figures in which women are shown, such as nude women, Gibson heads, sailor and girl, and portraits, are included, the percentage rises to 33, one in every three men tattooed selecting a design, some part of which is a female figure. Less than 1 per cent show indecent subjects; almost invariably such designs have been covered by other work, as also frequently have letters, names, and the once common tombstone scene. The usual types were found, among them, such as: H-O-L-D-F-A-S-T (a letter on the back of each finger); apprentice knot; pig on dorsum of foot, which among the older men was supposed to shield its possessor from death by drowning; crucifix, which in case of death would insure Christian burial in a Christian country, and “Jerusalem cross,” which would answer the same purpose on Moslem shores. Of the latter there were 14, all in reenlisted men. One man was adorned with a sock covering each foot and extending above the ankles; another with a fox-hunting scene, the dogs in full cry over the abdomen, up over the shoulder, down the back, and the fox almost reaching the buttocks. The entire back was covered in one case by a large Masonic column and globe. “Little Egypt” figured in two cases and a copy of a Schlitz beer trade-mark in one. The penis was found to be tattooed in 7 cases, 3 on the glands and 4 on the sides; one of the former represented the American flag. The following designs were found to be more popular on reenlistment than among those who came directly from civil life: Goddess of liberty, ships, eagles, pigs, and apprentice knots.
Farenholt A: Tattooing in the Navy, as shown by records of the USS Independence. U.S. Naval Medical Bulletin, vol 2, number 2, pp 37-39, 1908.
Notes:
“Gibson girls” --- Artistic creations of Charles Dana Gibson in the late 19th century/early 20th century. Gibson’s “Girls” were considered the models of ideal American feminine beauty.
“Little Egypt” --- Stage name of the belly dancer Ashea Wabe who garnered celebrity after appearing at Colombian Exposition of 1893.
Tattooing in the Navy, as shown by the records of the USS Independence
Probability no class of persons has the opportunity to see such an amount and variety of tattooing as that upon whom duty of physical examination for a military or naval service devolves, and undoubtedly the latter presents the richer field. Why this form of personal adornment should be so popular with those whose profession it is to follow the sea is difficult to explain; but custom and sentiment without doubt keep alive a practice which, in the early days, was the mark of a true deep-water sailor and a necessary requisite to the beau ideal. The custom probably originated among the natives of the south-sea islands where at one time it was almost universally in vogue, whence it was carried by admiring voyagers to home ports an in turn imitated by the envious. The name is considered to have been derived from the Tahitian word “tatu,” of the same meaning.
While tattooing originated as an adornment of uncivilized peoples, it is far less common among them to-day [sic] than it was formerly, partly through the influence of missionaries; partly, also through the influence of public sentiment; and partly through Government interference, as is at present the case in Japan. On the other hand the total extent of this habit had probably never been greater than it is at the present time. Although it may be there is a slight decrease in the percentage of tattooed persons who adopt the sea as a means of livelihood, there is certainly a marked increase among those who travel and even among those live at a large distance from the influences of the sea. There is hardly any large city but has one or more professional tattooers, often ex-man-of-warsmen or Japanese, who advertise freely and who cater to the lure of this fascination.
Lombroso states that few people, with the fortunate exception of sailors, are tattooed who are not of the criminal class, or degenerate. While on shore it is probable that the custom is chiefly confined to the lower orders of society, the same can not be said of the seagoing population. I have recently examined the enlistment records of 3,572 men, being the enlistments on this vessel for a period of eight and one-half years, and have obtained the following data for that portion of our enlisted force:
Percentage of men found tattooed on examination for second and subsequent enlistments…………………..................53.61
Percentage of men found to be tattooed on examination for first enlistment…………………………………23.01
While the former figures give a fair estimate of tattooing among the “old timers,” it is a trifle under the correct estimate for the service as a whole, and I think it would be nearer the truth to say that about 60 per cent of persons who have served over ten years are thus marked. On the other hand it is not fair to assume that 23 per cent of all male civilians are tattooed because that was found to be the percentage among those who presented themselves for first enlistment, as a considerable proportion of applicants are seafaring men and as it is probable that some men conceal previous service. On inquiry, however, I have been surprised to find so many, probably 8 per cent of the recruits, who are tattooed and who deny having been at sea or even having lived in seaport towns. I think the custom is more common in camps and in places where men are collected in large numbers than is ordinarily imagined.
The designs were found to have been placed in the following locations according to numerical preponderance: (1) Forearms; (2) arms; (3) chest; (4) shoulders; (5) hands; (6) wrists; (7) legs; (8) feet; (9) back; (10) face; (11) penis.
The conventional designs in order of frequency were the following: (1) Letters; (2) coats of arms; (3) flags; (4) anchors; (5) eagles and birds; (6) stars; (7) female figures; (8) ships; (9) clasped hands; (10) dagger; (11) crosses; (12) bracelets; (13) hearts.
Letters, mottoes, initials, and allied devices lead the list and constitute about 26 per cent of all ink marks. Coats of arms and national emblems follow with about 25 per cent, then flags, anchors, etc., as is shown by the list above. Female figures are shown in 18 per cent of all tattooing; but if all figures in which women are shown, such as nude women, Gibson heads, sailor and girl, and portraits, are included, the percentage rises to 33, one in every three men tattooed selecting a design, some part of which is a female figure. Less than 1 per cent show indecent subjects; almost invariably such designs have been covered by other work, as also frequently have letters, names, and the once common tombstone scene. The usual types were found, among them, such as: H-O-L-D-F-A-S-T (a letter on the back of each finger); apprentice knot; pig on dorsum of foot, which among the older men was supposed to shield its possessor from death by drowning; crucifix, which in case of death would insure Christian burial in a Christian country, and “Jerusalem cross,” which would answer the same purpose on Moslem shores. Of the latter there were 14, all in reenlisted men. One man was adorned with a sock covering each foot and extending above the ankles; another with a fox-hunting scene, the dogs in full cry over the abdomen, up over the shoulder, down the back, and the fox almost reaching the buttocks. The entire back was covered in one case by a large Masonic column and globe. “Little Egypt” figured in two cases and a copy of a Schlitz beer trade-mark in one. The penis was found to be tattooed in 7 cases, 3 on the glands and 4 on the sides; one of the former represented the American flag. The following designs were found to be more popular on reenlistment than among those who came directly from civil life: Goddess of liberty, ships, eagles, pigs, and apprentice knots.
Farenholt A: Tattooing in the Navy, as shown by records of the USS Independence. U.S. Naval Medical Bulletin, vol 2, number 2, pp 37-39, 1908.
Notes:
“Gibson girls” --- Artistic creations of Charles Dana Gibson in the late 19th century/early 20th century. Gibson’s “Girls” were considered the models of ideal American feminine beauty.
“Little Egypt” --- Stage name of the belly dancer Ashea Wabe who garnered celebrity after appearing at Colombian Exposition of 1893.
Photo of the Day: Camp Tien-sha
"Camp Tien-sha U.S. Naval Support Activity." [Entrance gate.] Danang, Vietnam.
09-5027-002
Thursday, December 1, 2011
"Navy Medicine at War" Series Now Available Online
The Navy Medicine at War series chronicles the compelling stories recalled by Navy Medical department veterans of World War II—physicians, dentists, nurses and hospital corpsmen who saw the war from their own unique perspectives. An account of Navy medical personnel practicing medicine in submarines operating in enemy waters, aboard vessels under kamikaze attack, aboard hospital ships, on beaches, in the jungle and POW camps scattered throughout Japan and the Philippines. The series was produced by the Bureau of Medicine and Surgery Office of Medical History and Archives in cooperation with the Visual Information Directorate of the Navy Medicine Support Command.
Part I: Trial By Fire: Navy Medicine at Pearl Harbor
https://archive.org/details/TrialByFireDecember71941
https://archive.org/details/NavyMedicineAtNormandyDDayJune61944WMV9640x480
https://archive.org/details/GuestsOfTheEmperorWMV9640x480
https://archive.org/details/BattleStationSickBay
Part V: Navy Medicine at War: Stepping Stones To Tokyo
The fifth installment in the six-part Navy Medicine at War film series chronicles the Navy medical experience with the Marine Corps’ island-hopping campaign during the first three years of the war.
https://archive.org/details/SteppingStonesToTokyoWMV9640x480
Part VI: Navy Medicine at War: Final Victory
“Final Victory” is the last installment of the six-part World War II film series, “Navy Medicine at War.” The film tells the story of the war’s final campaign and aftermath - the bloody fight to take Okinawa, the dress rehearsal for the invasion of the Japan ese home islands, the dropping of the two atomic bombs, Japan’s surrender, and the liberation of the prisoners of war.
https://archive.org/details/FinalVictoryWMV9640x480
Part I: Trial By Fire: Navy Medicine at Pearl Harbor
This installment recounts the “day that will live in infamy”
through the stories of Navy medical personnel who witnessed the tragic events
at Pearl Harbor.
https://archive.org/details/TrialByFireDecember71941
Part II: Navy Medicine at Normandy (Released
in 2001)
Although less well known, Navy medicine made important
contributions in the Atlantic, most notably in the Normandy campaign. The physicians and hospital corpsmen of the 6th
Naval Beach Battalion are highlighted in this installment.
https://archive.org/details/NavyMedicineAtNormandyDDayJune61944WMV9640x480
Part III: Guests of the Emperor (Released in
2005)
Pearl Harbor was just the beginning of a Japanese rampage
throughout the Pacific. With nothing to
stop their expanding empire, the enemy rolled through the Pacific conquering at
will. This installment of the film
series tells the tragic story of those who fought to defend Guam, Bataan, and
Corregidor against the Japanese invasion.
Their heroism throughout the following years in brutal captivity, under
extremely trying conditions exemplifies the enduring values of Navy Medicine.
https://archive.org/details/GuestsOfTheEmperorWMV9640x480
Part IV: Battle Station Sick Bay (Released
in 2006)
After the battle of Midway, even though the pendulum had
swung in favor of the United States, final victory was many campaigns and many,
many lives away. Throughout the next
three years, Navy medicine would accompany the carriers, battleships, cruisers,
destroyers, submarines, and thousands of other vessels on the long bloody road
to Tokyo. As crewman aboard these ships,
physicians, dentists, and hospital corpsmen would man battle stations and sick
bays during the battle—and the lulls in between. And they would do what Navy medical personnel
had always done—treating torn, burned, and bleeding bodies, and returning men
to duty.
https://archive.org/details/BattleStationSickBay
Part V: Navy Medicine at War: Stepping Stones To Tokyo
The fifth installment in the six-part Navy Medicine at War film series chronicles the Navy medical experience with the Marine Corps’ island-hopping campaign during the first three years of the war.
https://archive.org/details/SteppingStonesToTokyoWMV9640x480
Part VI: Navy Medicine at War: Final Victory
“Final Victory” is the last installment of the six-part World War II film series, “Navy Medicine at War.” The film tells the story of the war’s final campaign and aftermath - the bloody fight to take Okinawa, the dress rehearsal for the invasion of the Japan ese home islands, the dropping of the two atomic bombs, Japan’s surrender, and the liberation of the prisoners of war.
https://archive.org/details/FinalVictoryWMV9640x480
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