Former Navy Nurse Raises Awareness About the Lingering Effects of Agent Orange

Susan Schnall and a group of children at Tu Du Hospital, Ho Chi Minh City, in 2008. Susan Schnall and a group of children at Tu Du Hospital, Ho Chi Minh City, in 2008.

On August 10, 1961, the United States military first sprayed Agent Orange, a defoliant containing a particularly toxic dioxin compound, in Vietnam. Fifty-five years later, the effects of this and other chemicals linger on. And 48 years after former naval nurse Susan Schnall was court-martialed for protesting the Vietnam War, she visited Vietnam for the first time and witnessed these effects firsthand.

“In all my years in health care, I have never seen children with such severe birth defects,” Schnall said during an interview with AJN. After her court-martial, Schnall went on to have a successful 30-year career in hospital administration. After retiring and visiting Vietnam, she decided she needed to do something about what she witnessed there.

Schnall joined a group called the Vietnam Agent Orange Relief and Responsibility Campaign, made up of American Vietnam Veterans, Vietnamese Americans, social activists, and community leaders. The group aims to educate the public on the repercussions of the chemical warfare used in […]

Redeemed by M*A*S*H

Greg Horton is a widely published freelance writer and an adjunct professor at Oklahoma City Community College. With a new generation of veterans struggling to deal with emotional and physical wounds from their experiences in Iraq and Afghanistan, and to find meaningful work in a challenging economy, this story of a father’s 30-year nursing career after his return from the Vietnam War is particularly relevant today.

MASH-dioramaMy father started us on M*A*S*H soon after his return from Korea in 1973. The Vietnam War was nearing its end, although we did not know it at the time. A combat medic during his tour of duty in Vietnam early in the war, on this most recent tour my father had been stationed in Korea for a year at a hospital that received the grievously injured. “Spaghetti and meatball surgery,” he called it.

Our family had moved to Maud, Oklahoma, in 1972 to be near my mother’s family while my dad was in Korea. The endless countryside around our small town, combined with the local dump, gave us more than enough adventures to keep our minds off the war in a country of which we knew little.

M*A*S*H, the legendary television show featuring Alan Alda as the sarcastic antihero, started the year my father left for Korea. We were not a television-watching family, as such. My mother’s Pentecostal background instilled a deep-rooted distrust for the medium, unless Oral Roberts or Rex Humbard was preaching.

However, on my […]

From the Crimea to Vietnam: Generations of Veterans Appreciate Florence Nightingale

By Sue Hassmiller, PhD, RN, FAAN, Robert Wood Johnson Foundation Senior Adviser for Nursing (this is the latest in a series of posts by Hassmiller, who’s spending her summer vacation retracing crucial steps in Florence Nightingale’s innovative career)

This post is dedicated to Bob Hassmiller.

It is hard to believe that Florence Nightingale is not buried at Westminster Abbey. The offer was made, but turned down by Florence herself. For all the treasures she bestowed upon this earth while here, she was not one for a lot of pomp and circumstance. She simply wanted to do her work nonstop—to ensure that her voice was heard, and her lessons followed—but she did not want much to do with heroes’ welcomes, medals, or an honorary this or that. So in her will, and in the name of furthering medical science, she asked that her body be donated for medical research.  […]

2016-11-21T13:16:37-05:00July 16th, 2010|Nursing, nursing history|2 Comments

“Maybe I Couldn’t Have Done That”: (Almost) Memories of Being a Nurse in Vietnam

Vietnam Women's Memorial, Washington, DC. Courtesy of Kay Schwebke.

I attended nursing school between 1967 and 1971, when the war in Vietnam was raging. I spent a good part of 1968 at the Manhattan Veterans Administration (VA) Hospital, where I did much of my medical–surgical clinical rotation. Two days a week, I provided care for injured soldiers who were my own age. In the evening, I watched newscasts filled with images of freshly wounded soldiers and napalmed villagers and dutifully listened to the nightly body count, feeling not much better when “we” had fewer than “them.” […]

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