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THE big, white ship, bearing some of the first casualties from Okinawa, cut deep into the Pacific as it headed straight into the hot sun that had just risen in the East. Below decks in Ward A, forward compartment, there was a hubbub of activity. Corpsmen were bustling back and forth bringing food, drink and bedpans for their patients.
A gangling corpsman was shaking one of his patients out of a sound sleep.
"Hey, Pensy! Wake up. Time for chow, old man. Waffles and ice cold milk."
The deeply tanned kid opened his eyes and said wearily:
"Don't give me that malarky, swabbie."
The corpsman straightened his sheets.
"How did you sleep last night? Has the pain gone?"
"Slept like a top," said the kid, rubbing his eyes. "Yessir. And the pain just ain't anymore."
The public address system over the doorway blared out. Medics paused. The casualties cocked their heads to catch the words.
"Attention all hands. Attention all hands. We bring you a special broadcast, direct from San Francisco."
The speaker crackled and sputtered and...