Commentary: A ‘doctor’ for his people
Published 3:51 am, Wednesday, May 16, 2018
In the summer of 1944, for squadrons located at Hankow, China, the Air Force provided appropriate medical assistance. Capt. Thomas J. McKenna, a graduate of the Air Corps School of Aviation Medicine in 1943, was one of several flight surgeons assigned the unit.
One day, a small Chinese boy appeared at the dispensary asking, “Want boy?” most likely the only English words he knew. The medics noted the youngster had medical problems of his own: an unrepaired hair lip through which could be seen two not-too-white incisors and his curved spine indicated he also suffered from untreated Potts disease. Overlooking these problems, the Americans immediately hired the boy who, to their surprise, proved a hard worker, and unable to pronounce his name, they christened him “Hennis.”
Hermis was given orders by means of hand signals and Pigeon English, which from a distance appeared a game of charades.
Interestingly enough, the boy displayed keen interest and when flight surgeons and NCOs took sick call every morning, Hermis proved a close observer. Whenever one of the surgeons selected a particular medicine from hundreds in the pharmacy, he noticed the Chinese boy carefully studied which medicine he dispensed and the appropriate quantity.
As the physicians began relying upon Hermis to keep solutions warm and to apply hot packs when needed, the boy began taking more responsibility.
During that period when China’s millions of starved and bombed and diseased millions needed assistance, the dispensary door at the base offered the only hope for war-savaged civilians in the area. Though the Americans wanted to provide help as needed, unable to speak the language, there was little they could do.
When a ragged and dirty rickshaw appeared in the dispensary, it was apparent he needed medical assistance. Approaching one of the enlisted men and making a glum face, the boy pushed upon his abdomen with a grimy right hand. The Americans knew the man was seriously ill, yet it was impossible for them to determine his problem. Half-joking, the sergeant pointed to Hermis with word “doctor,” most likely the only English word the Chinese knew.
Without hesitation, Hermis carefully listened while the laborer offered a long stream of Chinese indicating his troubles. Though at first the Americans found the scene amusing, they quickly realized Hermis was listening with great care.
“My God,” one of the surgeons whispered, “he’s taking a medical history.”
With the Americans watching, Hermis scanned the hundreds of bottles in the pharmacy, none of which he could read, after which he provided the laborer with appropriate instructions for use.
Fortunately, one of the American sergeants carefully checked, making certain the medicine would not be harmful.
Thus began the medical service being provided each morning for non-American patients — sick call by the small Chinese boy. Following careful interrogation, Hennis, after locating the medicine, would provide it to his grateful patients.
One day, an old Japanese ammunition dump in Hankow exploded, killing several soldiers and wounding others. Overwhelmed when more and more wounded GIs were brought into the dispensary, the flight surgeons had little time to care for the Chinese who were also carried in.
Working with a soldier with a gaping abdominal wound, McKenna was doing everything possible to combat the shock that endangered an American soldier’s life. Though busily engaged, he also noticed Hennis working on an ugly shrapnel wound in a civilian while other ragged Chinese patients waited for “their doctor.”
Word soon spread about the “Chinese doctor” who, though working for the Americans, was willing to care for his comrades who were unable to pay for his services. The boy’s “practice” grew in numbers when other Chinese begged for assistance. This combination of American pharmaceuticals, along with age-old wisdom, intelligence and patience, helped to alleviate the terrible sufferings of a few of China’s silent millions.
Suddenly, when orders were received for the medical unit to move, equipment and supplies were loaded for transport. Through the window of the large twin-engine C-46 aircraft, Capt. McKenna spotted a small Chinese boy with a bump on his back wearing an ill-fitting GI uniform and standing in front of the now-deserted dispensary.
Waving his grimy hand at the passing planes was his faithful little assistant. Though the American doctor had a successful medical practice over many years, he never forgot the small Chinese boy who, for a brief period of time, provided welcome assistance at the temporary medical unit at Hankow, China, during World War II.
And it is likely he wondered what became of the boy they called Hermis.
Robert Underbrink is a Jacksonville writer.