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She cared for hundreds, but got to know only a few.
Diana Dwan Poole had arrived in South Vietnam in 1969, 23 years old and two years out of nursing school - an Army nurse assigned to the 67th Evacuation Hospital in Qui Nhon, 300 miles north of Saigon.
She was a captain, head nurse in the orthopedic ward. Its 25 beds were always full, a constant blur of moans and fear. Most of the survivors stayed three days, their wounds stabilized before they were shipped off to hospitals in Japan or the United States.
One was Stu Malter, an old man of 28 by February 1970 when he came to her ward with shrapnel wounds. His 173rd Airborne Brigade squadron had been ambushed in the Central Highlands.
Today on Veterans Day, the former soldier and the nurse who cared for him, both longtime Charlotteans, will be a part of the 10:30 a.m. ceremony to commemorate the 20th anniversary of the Mecklenburg County Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Thompson Park uptown.
Because of expected rain, the program will take part in St. Mary's Chapel in the park. After the program, color guards will raise the American and MIA/POW flags outside at the memorial.
Poole and Malter are thrilled they'll be there together.
"It's tough to remember all this stuff from Vietnam, but I am totally delighted to stand with my little brother Stu - I'm so proud of him," Poole said. "There were hundreds of them, but they were all my little brothers. They were so young, and so scared. I loved them all to death."
A chance reunion
The two reconnected in 1987 at Freedom Park. Poole had read that a replica of "The Wall," the memorial to Vietnam veterans in Washington was there. Wearing her Army nurse fatigue jacket, she took her children.
Malter spoke to the crowd. He'd served three tours, and with two other veterans founded the Metrolina Vietnam Veterans Association, which had brought the replica to Charlotte.
Malter talked about the wall's importance, the troops he served with, and about the nurses and doctors who bravely worked behind the lines to patch up the wounded.
He looked into the crowd, and saw Poole, recognizing her jacket.
"Nurses, like that one," he said, pointing to Poole. He asked her where she served.
"The 67th Evac," she shouted back.
"I went through there in 1970," Malter said.
After the program, he looked for Poole. He told her he was in the orthopedic ward. She told him she was the head nurse.
He recalled a fake snowman. She'd made it. And that he remembered a cute, tiny nurse with long blond hair. That was her. Malter nearly hugged the life out of her.
Then he cried.
"I wasn't 100 percent physically and mentally, but she was the only tiny nurse with long blond hair," Malter said. "She was a tough cookie."
Poole attended a few meetings of the veterans association. But they wouldn't reconnect again until Nov. 11, 1989, when the local Vietnam veterans memorial was dedicated.
Memories, tragic and warm
Army nurses volunteered; they weren't drafted. To pay for nursing school, Poole joined the Army and spent two years at Letterman Hospital in San Francisco, before shipping out to Vietnam in 1969.
At Qui Nhon, she saw unspeakable injuries, and watched young men die. She still thinks - and dreams - about them.
She's met 14 of her former patients, including one who lives in Wingate. Another she met on a recent Veterans Day in Washington. He saw her in a crowd and ran and picked her up. He was on her ward when he turned 19. She brought him a cake with a match for a candle.
"I'm always 19 and I'll never forget you brought me a cake," he told her.
Partners in a cause
In the 20 years since Poole and Malter made their connection, they've been in touch a couple of dozen times by e-mail and phone. Their friendship spurred Malter to push and raise money for the Vietnam Women's Memorial in Washington honoring women who served. Most were nurses.
Today, they'll connect again.
Last month, the commemoration organizers recruited Malter, 67, to be a part of the program. His part called for two people. He immediately thought of Poole and e-mailed her: "Hi Diana: It has been a while, but once again a Vietnam vet needs the help of a nurse."
Poole, 63, replied: "Hi Stuart: So great to hear from you, my former 67th Evac patient, and dear friend! I'd be honored to stand beside you, Little Brother."
