Victory And Beyond Nurse Saw War’s Grim Realities

Myrtle Hagan Talbot of Spokane filled a conventional women’s role in an unconventional way during World War II - as a nurse aboard a hospital ship, the Mercy.

Talbot dug out her 50-year-old notes on VJ Day.

“We are in Subic Bay (the Philippines),” she read. “It was a few minutes after 8 a.m. on Aug. 14 when the report came that the war was over. All the ships blew sirens and whistles, signal flares were shot off, a smoke screen was laid and everybody was out taking pictures.

“This is truly a great day in history.”

Talbot didn’t have to consult notes to recall the all-world party that spread from top to bottom on VJ Day. The ship’s captain sent the nurses ashore for a steak fry.

“He got real generous that day,” Talbot said. “We had steaks and three cases of beer he let us take ashore. We were told to be ready to pick up patients by noon the next day.”

A victory party broke out on an Australian ship that night, with buffet dinner and music from a five-piece band that played from a gun mount, Talbot said.

Officers and crew of the Mercy earned their celebration.

In 16 months, Talbot, a captain, was off the ship only twice as it crossed the equator 22 times with its complement of 37 nurses, a dozen doctors, two Red Cross workers, a dietitian and “lots of corpsmen,” Talbot said.

She remembered a Japanese kamikaze pilot diving into a nearby tanker.

“It happened maybe a quarter of a block off our starboard side,” she said. “We were under cover, but we heard it. Our lifeboats went out and picked up survivors.”

The ship worked in hot spots, including the battles of the Philippines and Okinawa.

“We would pick up survivors hanging onto debris or trying to swim,” Talbot said. “Okinawa was the worst. At Okinawa we had lots of burials at sea - some nights as many as 30. Admiral (Chester) Nimitz wanted the Army dead buried at sea as well, but (Gen. Douglas) MacArthur said no Army personnel would be buried at sea.

“So we had a morgue for the Army, and sometimes we ran out of room.”

When the demanding, rewarding, dangerous work was finally over, there was tedium.

“I loved it, even though we worked all the time,” Talbot said. “Seeing casualties come in, and maybe after a week or two seeing them walk off the ship was a thrill.”

Not all who were carried on walked off.

“The pressures, the stress of seeing the seriously ill and injured. … They came on by the dozens, as fast as we could haul them in,” Talbot said.

It made settling back into Spokane a tough adjustment at first.

“It was a letdown,” Talbot said, “but then I got a good job and married my husband. He was a Navy man who had shore duty during the war. I was in the Army and was at sea the whole time.”

Talbot still gets to sea, only now as an escort on a cruise ship.

“I’ve heard from some of the people who were on our hospital ship,” she said. “I get a letter every once in a while. It gives you a good feeling that they remember what we did.

“The sad thing is, the hospital ship never had a reunion. I tried to stimulate interest, but no luck. I think a lot of them have died, plus it might be painful for some of the others.”

, DataTimes