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Smallpox shots and Corporal Robinson
Recently the disease smallpox has been much in the news. The fear is that terrorists might try to thrust havoc on the western world by unleashing the live smallpox virus into areas of dense population. Authorities are contemplating vaccinating health officials, or even the entire U.S. population, against the disease.
For many centuries, smallpox was a major cause of death throughout the world. Epidemics were widespread and greatly feared. In the late 1700s Dr. Edward Jenner, in England, noted that milkmaids, who invariably contracted the milder, but related, illness, Cow Pox, never contracted the dreaded smallpox. Using this observation he developed a vaccine, made from the Cow Pox virus, that protected a person against the deadly smallpox.
Over many years Jenner's vaccine was used around the world, greatly diminishing the incidence of smallpox. In the 1970s the World Health Organization made a concerted effort to eradicate smallpox from the face of the earth, and in 1977 declared that smallpox was no more, and that no more smallpox vaccinations should be given because of the slight chance that the vaccinations themselves might be fatal. Unfortunately, the smallpox virus was kept in various laboratories here and abroad, and that is the virus that we fear may be unleashed.
People born before the 1970s were vaccinated against smallpox. They have the distinctive round scar on their upper arms, indicative of the smallpox vaccination, which was made by poking the arm with many tiny needle pricks, each carrying the Cow Pox vaccine.
We can all be greatly indebted to Dr. Jenner and his vaccines. In addition to saving the world countless deaths from smallpox, he has saved much suffering by those who survived the disease. Though it was unusual to see a person in the United States who was scarred by smallpox, in Korea, in the 50s, there were many people who bore the telltale scars of smallpox. Most of the scarred people I saw were older people. Their faces were pock marked horribly, and in some cases they appeared to have been blinded in one or both eyes.
When I entered the Army in 1950, I was subjected to a whole series of vaccination shots for who knows what diseases, including smallpox. Evidently the Army thought it was easier to give everyone all the shots than to figure out just who needed what shot. Needless to say, recruits were quite vocal in declaring that they had already received their shots -- to no avail.
When I received my smallpox vaccination (even though it presumable already had been done years before) I had a severe reaction. In addition to the scab on the upper arm, which results from the vaccination, I developed a high fever and a lump the size of an egg under my arm, which restricted my duties for two or three days. As the scab developed it was covered with a gauze bandage. Just when I was feeling pretty good again I was involved in a game of football, which resulted in the scab being torn off.
The new wound was sore and for some reason I went through all of the earlier symptoms again, the high fever and the lump under my arm. When I asked about this I was given no explanation. The doctors acted as if they had never seen that phenomenon before. But I recovered nicely that time, so I guess it didn't matter.
There was one incident, which occurred while we were getting our shots that I now look back on as quite memorable: When we arrived at Fort Sill, Okla., we were greeted by Corporal (Robbie) Robinson, who was to help our group of recruits through the transition from civilian to military status. He took his responsibility seriously, but evidently had a somewhat sadistic view toward new recruits. We arrived at Fort Sill one night at about 10 p.m. We were sure that we'd gotten there too late for supper, but were pleasantly surprised to find ourselves treated to a fine hot meal. On the table there were the usual condiments, but additionally there were several jars of pickles and peppers, including one jar of very large peppers, called "Banana Peppers."
Our group, from Nebraska and South Dakota, had never seen banana peppers before and were curious. "They're very mild," said Robbie. "Very much like a dill pickle". With that recommendation we quickly emptied the jar and most of us began to chomp on the new delicacy.
But Robbie had lied to us. They had a delayed reaction -- seemed mild at first, but turned to fire in our stomach. We were soon trying to quench the fire with water and milk, without much success. As one fellow, who had eaten a whole pepper in short order, later said, "I knew exactly where that pepper was from the time it entered my stomach, through the gut, till I finally got rid of it, and it burned every inch of the way!"
Robbie was a stern taskmaster, very picky about our uniforms, the way we made our beds, and the way we performed at close order drill. And it seemed as if he were with us from the time we got up in the morning till we went to bed at night. He was not a popular fellow and we looked forward to the day we'd be rid of him.
On the day we went for our shots, we lined up in a long line in a large room in the hospital. At one end of the room there were a number of medics, at tables on either side of the line and as we moved through (like cattle through a chute) they hit us with a series of shots, using both arms.
Robbie walked up and down the line, and kept up a running commentary about the size of the needles the medics would be using, and the fact that the needles were square. Some of our group had never been to a doctor in their life, and visibly blanched at Robbie's descriptions about the needles and the procedures. He had us all dreading the experience. He kept up his commentary, telling us to hang in there, that the medics were slow because their needles had gotten dull, and on an on.
Then he's laugh at us as though our unease about what was coming was the funniest thing he'd ever seen. The room was still, except for Robbie's talking. Though he was enjoying it all immensely, most of us thought that his little joke had gone on quite long enough.
Evidently the medics had seen Robbie's performance before and had not appreciated his getting us upset. Suddenly two rather burly medics came up behind Robbie, grabbed him, one on each arm, and lifted him off his feet.
Immediately, four more medics came up. Before we scarcely knew what was happening they had given him multiple shots in each arm. Someone pulled down his pants and he got two more shots in his backside. It all happened so fast, he hardly had a chance to yell out. And it was over just that fast. The two big medics relaxed their hold and set him on his feet. But he didn't stay on his feet. He fainted dead away and collapsed to the floor.
"OK, you fellows," said one of the medics. "Let's get back at it and get these shots taken care of so you can get back to work." There was a cheer from the line, as if someone had scored a touchdown, and after that a good bit of laughing and talking, from a much more relaxed group.
"But what about Robbie?" someone asked.
"Don't worry about him. He'll come around in a minute. He'll be OK, but I predict he won't be so mouthy around here for awhile".
And so he was. In just a minute or so Robbie opened his eyes, got up sheepishly, pulled up his pants, and slipped out the door, muttering something about the Gosh Darned Medics must be crazy.
After that the atmosphere in the room changed from apprehension to levity. As they administered our shots, the medics had big smiles, which we returned in kind. We were sharing a huge joke. And, somehow, those shots didn't hurt a bit.