by Caroline Morrison Garrett   Forward

On August 25, 2005, I was stunned by the headline in the morning paper. “Walter Reed Army Medical Center To Close.” I found it hard to believe a Federal Commission had voted to shut down Walter Reed Army Medical Center in Washington, D.C. Surely not Walter Reed. Not the historic hospital where soldiers from America’s wars had been treated since 1909. Not Walter Reed where doctors, nurses, technicians and dietitians, including me, had received superior medical training.

I arrived there in September 1944 for a year’s internship in dietetics, to be followed by a commission as second lieutenant in the Medical Corps. From the moment the sentry waved me through the gate, I felt the aura of the army’s crown jewel — Walter Reed Army Hospital.

Gracious Georgian brick buildings, surrounded by sweeping lawns and wooded areas, offered a respite in the northwest section of the city for hundreds of soldiers recovering from the horrors of battle. At the hospital entrance, staff cars and limousines carrying military leaders, congressmen, and international dignitaries left their passengers by the broad marble steps.

General Pershing, leader of the expeditionary forces in Europe during World War I, lived in a penthouse at Walter Reed. World leaders came there to seek his advice and keep him informed on the progress of World War II. Among others, General Patton had sought General Pershing’s blessing before heading for Europe to participate in preparations for the invasion of Normandy on D-Day.

Movie stars, radio comedians, theatre luminaries, and acrobats with trained dogs, all felt privileged to perform for the patients. Mrs. Eleanor Roosevelt strode the halls one afternoon every week to visit “her boys.” Even Fala, President Roosevelt’s famous Scottish terrier, came to the Veterinary School at Walter Reed for grooming.

My year there gave me a grandstand seat for some of the most important and dramatic events of the twentieth century. The Battle of the Bulge, President Roosevelt’s death, victory in Europe, the dropping of atom bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and Japan’s surrender, came with dizzying speed. As those events unfolded, my duties brought me in contact with many key players on the world scene.

When I left for college in 1940, I told Mother I could keep a journal or write to her in detail. There would not be time for both. “By all means write letters,” she said. “I promise to keep them.”

During the next decade, more than a trunk full of letters, written in fountain pen or pencil, on fancy paper or plain, accumulated in the attic. I also saved many missives from Mother, Dad’s weekly “special delivery,” and others from my brothers, relatives, and friends. That constant stream of written communication forms the basis for this memoir.

The war years of the 1940’s remain inside everyone who lived through that tumultuous period and I am no exception. Here is a picture of life as I remember it during my college years, my army training, and two years in the army.

A highlight was the year spent at Walter Reed Army Medical Center. The training I received there instilled in me the discipline, sense of duty, determination, and fortitude necessary to complete two years in the service. Those attributes have stayed with me throughout a long life. Now the time has come for me, as well as Walter Reed, to be retired.

A sparkling new, modern Walter Reed National Medical Center in Bethesda, Maryland will provide world-class care and, with time, develop its own rituals. I, along with former patients and medical personnel familiar with the history and traditions of the old buildings, will grieve our loss.

Like so many others, I remain proud of my association with Walter Reed Army Medical Center. In my heart, it can never be replaced.