I worked in the Coumadin clinic at the VA in Temple. One of my patients was a Bataan Death March survivor. He was a tall and quiet man but very friendly. I asked him if I could ask some questions about Bataan. He said okay. I mentioned that many died on the March due to injury and summary executions by the Japanese. Also, many died in the camp. I asked what the difference between those that lived and those that died? He said, “When you gave up you died.” I asked him what kept him going? He said, “The only way to defy the Japanese was to live one more day at a time.
I had to change his warfarin dosing. That would entail about an hour of waiting for this old soldier. I told him to just wait in my office while I went to the pharmacy and filled it myself. That man should wait for nothing ever.
His strength of character humbled me. I would be proud to be 1/2 the man he was.
I remember cashiering at my folks’ store when a tall, slim gray-haired man came through and handed me some money for his purchase. I saw the arm tattoo and looked up in shock. There he was, his bright, grey eyes shining. He smiled.
I was verklempt.