USS SANCTUARY

Story and photos by SSgt Bruce Martin

Copyright Marine Corps Association Sep 1967

[Headnote]She plies the offshore waters from Chu Lai to the DMZ, offering hope to our wounded Marines.

SHE TAKES her name from a word which means refuge and protection. Yet, she offers much more to the fighting Marines who require her attendance. She saves their lives, heals their wounds and cures their illnesses. She offers them help, hope and compassion. She is the USS Sanctuary, Hospital Ship-17.

An 18-year-old Marine squad leader, Sgt Edward K. Ratcliffe, proclaimed the Sanctuary ". . . the greatest morale booster of this war to my men. They know that if they're hit, it'll be only a matter of minutes until a chopper can have them aboard the ship and under medical care."

"That's the beauty of this ship," said GySgt Carmen J. Distefano, NCOIC of a five-man Marine Patient Affairs Liaison team stationed aboard the ship. "She's a mobile hospital and can go where the action is. It means more to the troops in combat than anything else just to know that if they go down, there's somebody nearby, waiting to take care of them."

Sanctuary arrived in the waters on April 10, 1967, where she joined her sister hospital ship, the USS Repose, and in her first SO days of duty she took aboard more than 1200 patients, the majority of whom were Marines. Most of the combat casualties were helicoptered aboard the Sanctuary directly from the battlefield.

Sanctuary was first commissioned as the SS Marine Owl during World War II. Because of her hull design, she was ideally suited for conversion to a hospital ship, one of five types to serve in World War II. In mid-1944, she was designated the Sanctuary, Hospital Ship-17, and launched in August that year after conversion.

Despite her late entry into the war, she traveled more than 90,000 miles and carried 3,644 liberated Allied prisoners of war, patients and passengers. Her active status ended after 13 months and 24 days and she was deactivated on March 1, 1946.

Twenty years later to the day, Sanctuary was reactivated. She was recommissioned later at New Orleans, La. Her crew and hospital staff trained together at Norfolk, Va., before the ship departed the States on November 15, 1966. Sanctuary is home-ported at Alameda, Calif.

Picture a large metropolitan hospital with a staff of 316 doctors, nurses, technicians and other medical and administrative personnel on call 24 hours a day. Add a blood bank of which there are only six others of its type in the world. Equip the hospital with the latest innovations in medical science, such as artificial heart and kidney machines. Transport the staff and equipment aboard a ship and assign a highly trained and efficient crew and you have one of the most modern and complete floating hospitals in the world. That's the Sanctuary.

The ship's mission is to provide specialized and general clinical and hospitalization services for Marine and Navy personnel and other U. S. armed forces personnel, as well as authorized civilians and Allied forces. Aboard her are 24 Medical Corps officers, three Dental Corps officers, 29 Nurse Corps officers, seven Medical Service Corps officers, 246 hospital corpsmen and seven dental corpsmen. Supporting the hospital staff is a crew of 18 officers, two of whom are chaplains-a Protestant and a Catholic-and 290 enlisted sailors.

Practically all of the equipment aboard the Sanctuary is the most up-to-date that money and technology can provide. She is outfitted for a capacity of 750 hospital beds, 20 wards, four operating rooms, three X-ray units, laboratory spaces, a pharmacy and many other supporting units.

The blood bank is unique. It is one of seven frozen blood banks in the world which permit blood to be kept indefinitely. The blood is maintained at more than 100 degrees below Fahrenheit, but it can be readied for use in 15 minutes. More than 1,000 units of frozen blood may be stored in the bank's two special refrigerators, in addition to normally stored whole blood which may be kept for only 21 days. It is highly improbable that the Sanctuary would ever exhaust her store of blood before it could be replenished.

An artificial heart machine is available for use when a patient's heart or major blood vessels have been damaged. The machine may be used to restore slowed or stopped circulation within minutes, which often means the difference between life and death. Surgeons use the machine to bypass part, or all, of a patient's heart in maintaining the flow of blood during certain types of operations.

The artificial kidney machine is required when a severe injury to a patient causes kidney failure. Like the artificial heart, the kidney machine can save the lives of critically injured or ill patients.

Another modern medical technique used aboard the ship is FAST-Fluorescent Antibody Staining Technique. FAST permits doctors to quickly recognize disease-causing organisms, such as tuberculosis or malaria, both of which are common in Vietnam. FAST eliminates lab-testing processes which formerly took days to complete in identifying certain illnesses, and permits doctors to begin treatment more rapidly than before.

The neurosurgical service aboard the Sanctuary is equipped with ultrasonic diagnostic equipment. This is an ultrasound device which, in appearance, resembles the sonar scope of a submarine. Its medical purpose is to seek out and identify hemorrhages and pressure deviations within the brain. Sonar transducers, or probes, aid in locating foreign bodies which may have penetrated the brain.

One of the most important structures added to the Sanctuary during her extensive modernization was the heliport, located on the ship's stern. This facility permits casualties to be received from hundreds of miles away. The heliport can land any 'copter in use by the Marine Corps today.

Beneath the heliport is a recompression chamber for the treatment of anaerobic infections, such as tetanus or gas gangrene. The chamber, identical to those used to treat deep sea divers for "the bends," creates an elevated barometric pressure which permits increased amounts of oxygen to enter the blood and body tissues to enhance patient recovery.

Included on the staff of medical officers aboard the Sanctuary are six general practitioners, five general surgeons, two anesthesiologists, two internists, one neurosurgeon, one opthalmologist, one orthopedic surgeon, one otolaryngologist, one pathologist, one radiologist, one psychiatrist, one thoracic surgeon, and one urologist.

"All our equipment and staff are available 24 hours a day," stated Capt Gerald J. Duffner, MC, USN, the commanding officer of the hospital staff. "Operating from the Da Nang harbor, we can steam to Chu Lai in two hours or be at the DMZ in less than five hours. This time can be lessened when you consider that helicopters can meet us while we're under way."

An illustration of how the ship's crew and hospital staff react to an incoming medical evacuation helicopter occurred while Leatherneck was visiting the Sanctuary. Word was received in the ship's radio shack that a chopper was bringing in a critically wounded Marine who was suffering from multiple shrapnel wounds.

Immediately, the ship's public address system called for casualty handling procedures. Doctors, nurses and corpsmen raced to their assigned areas. Litter bearers moved to the helicopter landing platform as deck personnel flagged the chopper to a landing.

The patient was rushed to the Triage room less than 100 feet from the heliport. Doctors and corpsmen began immediate lifesaving procedures in the Triage room. Specialists needed to assist in the treatment or diagnosis of the injury were summoned if they were not already present.

The patient's breathing was labored and difficult so a tracheotomy was performed and an oxygen tube inserted in his throat

From the Triage room, the patient was sent to the X-ray department where blood samples were drawn to be cross-matched to determine the blood type. At the same time, the Marine was X-rayed from head to foot to locate shrapnel. Then, he was returned to the recovery room where stabilization of his system began. He was given a blood transfusion. Medications were administered. Pulse and respiration were continually checked, and as he began to show signs of gathering strength and responding to the treatment, he was readied for surgery.

Once the patient had been stabilized to the degree where he could withstand surgery, he was wheeled into one of the Sanctuary's operating rooms. There, surgeons continued the fight to save his life-and won.

After the operation the patient was placed in a recovery room. He was eventually moved to an intensive care unit and doctors say that as recovery from his wounds progresses, he will be moved to a ward, or perhaps evacuated to a hospital near his hometown.

"Once a casualty becomes our patient, he generally survives regardless of how serious his injuries," explained LtCmdr Ronald Bowden. "We lose less than one per cent of the casualties sent to us."

According to LtCmdr Bowden, the Sanctuary's patient affairs officer, not all of the Marines who come aboard the ship are brought from the battlefield, suffering from combat-inflicted injuries.

I lost my dentures somewhere on the DMZ," smiled Cpl Eddie R. Letendre. "Five days after I came aboard the Sanctuary, they had me a complete set of uppers and lowers. I've been wearing dentures since I was 12 years old and these are the best I've ever had."

According to Capt Marvin Carmen, DC, USN, his ten-man dental section could produce a complete set of dentures in less than a day in an emergency case.

"Every Marine who comes aboard the ship as a patient and wears glasses is given two pairs, regardless of how many he already owns," HM-1 Martin Gibson said. "Ninety per cent of the men needing glasses have either broken or lost them and those who do have them can always use an extra pair."

Eight minutes is the "emergency" time required to cut pre-ground lenses, place them in a frame and give them to a patient after he has received an eye examination. The optical shop dispenses about 20 pairs of glasses a day.

"Nobody, Marine or Navy, aboard the ship has any fixed working hours," GySgt Distefano said. "We're all on call 24 hours a day and there's at least one Marine from the Patient Affairs team on duty constantly with a Navy counterpart. Everyone averages a 12-hour day. Sometimes we have to look at a calendar to tell Tuesday from Saturday."

Distefano's team works alongside a 13-man division of sailors under LtCmdr Bowden's direction. HMCH Virgil French is the supervisor for the Patient Affairs section and maintains direct liaison with GySgt Distefano.

The Navy team handles the more technical aspects of the patients' records, such as transcribing case histories, maintaining files, etc. The Marines, who are part of the Force Logistic Command, take care of administrative matters pertaining to the Marine Corps. For example, a Marine patient may wish to submit a nomination for a combat award he thinks a comrade earned in battle. This is handled by GySgt Distefano's team.

"The work isn't hard," Sgt Robert Holmes said, "but the hours are long and tiresome. Once you start, you've got to stay with it."

Holmes is GySgt Distefano's assistant. Between the two of them, they see that each Marine patient is visited at least once daily. Distefano handles the patients' personal problems when they're brought to his attention by the individuals or through other channels.

Sgt Alan Lightle and Cpl Robert McGeehan have drawn the assignment of paying patients aboard the ship. When a patient comes aboard, particularly from the battlefield, without his pay records, they arrange to give him a "special" when he asks for it, which is one-half of his basic monthly pay.

"First chance we get to go ashore, we try to locate his pay record and bring it to the ship so we can pay him on a regular basis," said Lightle.

Performing the clerical duties for the Marine liaison team is Cpl John Blodgett. He usually is assisted by an ambulatory patient who is familiar with administrative procedures.

Marines returning to duty meet Cpl James Kair, the liaison-team's supply man. He outfits each discharged patient with at least one uniform, if the one brought aboard ship is unserviceable. Karr also stores and maintains the military equipment brought aboard the ship with each patient.

"I have a $15,000 clothing inventory," said Karr. "Most of it is khaki uniforms we issue on temporary loan to ambulatory patients who are permitted to go ashore on liberty when we land at ports like Subic Bay (the Philippines) for re-supplying the ship."

Mail and pay-in that order-seem to be the two most important things to patients on their way to recovery. The Marine liaison team does its best to see that both items are well taken care of.

Aboard the Sanctuary is a snack shop, or "gedunk" as the Marines call it. In one 30-day period, more than $40,000 was taken in by the gedunk, mostly from Marines. Soft ice cream, candy, soft drinks and popcorn are its mainstays. Treat-hungry Marines from the field quickly forget their former C-ration diets and queue up at the gedunk from the time it opens until it closes.

A ship's store carries all the "health and comfort" items necessary to a Marine's personal well-being. Gifts for the girl back home, such as perfume, boxed candy, jewelry, etc., are available, too. Cameras, watches and other luxury items difficult to obtain in field exchanges are also sold to the patients.

Playing a vital role in assisting all hands aboard the Sanctuary are two American Red Cross workers, Miss Beverly Carpenter and Miss Susan Ritzie. Both of the ladies are invaluable assets. They write an average of 125 letters a month for patients, handle notification cases (i.e., a patient's wife gives birth to a baby and the A.R.C. notifies the patient), organize recreation, wrap packages, take pictures to be sent home, assist in making tape recordings, distribute reading material, and hand out ditty bags filled with sundry items by the National Society of the Colonial Dames of America.

"The Colonial Dames have adopted the ship," Miss Carpenter told us. "They've given us a piano, 700 filled ditty bags-which they made-700 recording tapes, and they're going to spend $'2,500 on Christmas presents for the patients this year."

Movies are the chief source of entertainment aboard the ship. For ambulatory patients, a movie is shown nightly. The same movie is televised the next night over the ship's closed-circuit television system for bed-ridden patients. The closed-circuit system is also used to televise religious services, which may be attended by ambulatory patients.

A video tape machine permits live entertainment to be recorded and telecast at later periods.

An inter-ship radio station broad-casts music throughout the Sanctuary and may be received on sets throughout the ship. Sgt Holmes gives two hours nightly of his off-duty time to produce and air a deejay show called "Musically Yours."

Patients may call home through the ship's HAM radio facility. An average of 30 calls are attempted nightly. The majority of them are completed if the weather and other conditions permit.

"Despite all we try to do for them, Marines seem to prefer to help themselves in some cases," said Chief French.

It's not unusual to see a Marine with one leg in a cast pushing a buddy with both legs in casts around in a wheelchair. Or, if a Marine departs for the gedunk, he takes orders for snacks from his buddies who are unable to walk.

The morale and spirit of the patients is high, once they realize they're aboard the Sanctuary. And the high Esprit de Corps among the Sanctuary's crew and hospital staff is one of the reasons.

But Marines are Marines wherever they are. For example, a pair of Marine riflemen from the same unit were wounded and brought aboard the Sanctuary. One had sustained five bullet wounds while the other was suffering from a minor shrapnel wound in his shoulder.

"The Marine with the bullet wounds refused treatment until he was assured that his friend would be taken care of," said LtCmdr Bowden.

Regardless of the wound, injury or illness, the hospital staff aboard the Sanctuary is dispensing first rate medical care to the Marines who are placed in their charge. Their contribution to winning the war is that of keeping Marines in shape to fight it. Their biggest reward is the self-satisfaction of seeing a Marine who was carried aboard the ship walk away and return to his outfit.

Photos not copied - annotations follow:

• (LEFT) Skilled hands work to save a Marine's life.(RIGHT) A patient is brought aboard from a Mike Boat. 

• ABOVE) The slightest sign of life means there is a chance for recovery aboard the Sanctuary.

• (LEFT) Navy doctors remove shrapnel from a Marine minutes after he was taken from the battlefield.

• (ABOVE) GySgt Carmen Distefano (R), NCOIC of the Marine Patient Affairs Liaison Team, confers with hospital corpsmen on the status of a newly arrived patient.

• (ABOVE RIGHT) Miss Beverly Carpenter, one of two American Red Cross volunteers aboard the Sanctuary, gives LCpI Hank Kehoe some reading material.

• (BELOW) Pfc Mike Darin found that the chow aboard the Sanctuary is outstanding, like the medical care.

• LEFT) Cpl David Lewis passed idle moments aboard the hospital ship fay strumming a guitar furnished by the Red Cross.

• (BELOW) Pfc Ron Frazier (R) made a long-distance phone call to his wife to congratulate her on the birth of their son.

• (BELOW RIGHT) It was a big day for LCpl Sam Patterson (R) when HM-2 Steve Balmer removed his cast.