My (Nurse Lou Peveto Scott) Memories of the 64th General Hospital in WWII

              MY MEMORIES OF THE 64TH GENERAL HOSPITAL IN WW II
Fort Jackson, S.C.: In 1942 I transferred from La Garde General Hospital in New
Orleans to the 64th General Hospital which was being readied fOr overseas duty at
~ Fort Jackson, S. C. ~e remained at Fort Jackson for a year. ~1y most outstanding
memories of Fort Jackson include the following:
Drill-every afternoon after we got off duty. We marched in that hot South Carolina
sunshine on a hot, dusty field-and in our white uniforms and shoes. Miss Wallen ,
the chief nurse, and Sgt. Anderico drilled us (Hut,two, hut,two) until we were soU
and cotton-mouthed, its a wonder we didn't fall out. They said they were toughen­ing
us up-and I suppose they did,but that hot, dusty marching played havoc with
our white shoes and uniforms. After drill there was a rush for the showers.
Since it took several hours for all of us to •get through the showers, it paid off
to be fleet of foot. Once, when the line was several hours long, Hattie (Corrine)
Calvette and I hit upon a dandy idea. There was a hopper in each of the two bath­rooms.
We each hopped into a hopper which turned out to be much more luxurious
than the showers . It wasn't long until some of the girls discovered us and they
called other girls in so Lve ended up with a gleeful audience. Hattie 's and my ad­vantage
was of short duration because from then on, after drill, lines formed in
front of the hoppers as well as the showers .
At Fort Jackson I worked on first one ward, then another until, somehow, got as­signed
to the psychiatric section. Because of this experience, I was given a psy­chiatric
rating. I worked on several wards in psychiatry. The ward officer was a
IY!ajor ~latthews who had no patience Lvith the psychoneurotics-they were all "gold­bricking"
according to- hir1. He was not a psychiatrist. Catricello,the ward boy,
was a liability to the patients ' welfare . He aggravated them with his high-handed
ways until one patient became hysterical and, had I not intervened, he would have
engaged in as altercation with Catricello. This was the last straw, so I requested
that Catricello be transferred out of psychiatric. Davis was a good ward boy- a
Tennessee mountain boy with only one fault-every month or so he went out on the
t~wn, got roaring drunk and stayed that wa~~or several da~s. The staff ~alued
h~m so much that, on those not so rare occ~s~ons, when Dav~s showed up "h~gh",
they put him in a locked psychiatric room until he sobered up. This kept him
out of the guardhouse. After Major Matthews received his orders we got a real
psychiatrist who turned out to be as bad off as any of the N.P. patients. He
worried the patients to death-such things as coming back over at night and
peeping through the window to see who was awake and talking after the lights
went out-then the next day he would punish the offenders by making them scrub
the floor with a toothbrush. He, too, pushed a patient too far and just barely
missed getting a beating. The O.D. had to be called- and the psychiatrist was
whisked away (for treatment, I believe).
I remember many dances at the officers' club-some of them were formal, so we had
a chance to get out of the drab old uniforms and dress up pretty. Our supply of
formals was limited so we used to exchange gowns for a change . I usually ex­changed
gowns with Andy (Edna Anderson) because we were about the same size.
\..,1}-'\l}
After a year at Fort Jackson uJe got our overseas orders. The train ride to Fort '<> ~
D~ New Jersey was most uncomfortable-very crowded and so few toilets. we had to
be scheduled-now, who can "go" on a schedule made by someone else? Needless to
say, we were all "bound up" by journey's end.
~"" .{)""'-\ L 1-, •
Fort Dix and Across the Atlantic: At Fort Dix we were sent to the supply center
to get all our gear~igh top shoes, low quarter shoes, G.I. fatigues and olive
drabs (pants), blankets, musette bags, bedrolls, canteens, mess kits and all
the other paraphernalia} Then we had to spread it out on our bunks for inspec­tion.
I was on an upper bunk-what a strain that was.