For several decades the critical role they played remained somewhat unknown, but by telling their important stories, recognition of their service has grown. The retired nurse recently shared her time in Vietnam with fellow members of the local chapter of the Upper Peninsula Nurses Honor Guard.

U.P. Nurses Honor Guard co-coordinator Lauri Oberdorfer said it wasn’t until recent years that she learned about how nurses served in Vietnam.

“For so many years, she (Stolze) and other Vietnam veterans were told not to talk about it,” Oberdorfer said. “Now they can, but when you are so used to burying it, it’s hard.”

Stolze says it has helped her and other veterans cope with their traumatic experiences.

GEORGE AND MARY Stolze at Chu Lai after George arrived in Vietnam. (Contributed photo)

“Each time it gets a little easier,” said Stolze, noting in her earlier presentations she kept it light, focusing on things like the large bugs and snakes, climate and landscape.

“My daughter finally said to me, I shouldn’t sugarcoat the war experience — you need to tell the whole story,” Stolze said.

The daughter of a physician and a nurse decided to follow in her parents footsteps and pursue a career in the medical field after high school. The former Denver resident went on to attend Colorado State University to become a veterinarian. However after a couple years, Stolze realized she was meant to be a nurse, and joined a hospital-based diploma nursing program.

Shortly after becoming a registered nurse, she joined the U.S. Army Nurse Corps in 1968 with a direct commission to go to Vietnam.

“This was something I felt like I needed to do,” Stolze said. “My father was a doctor in World War II and my mother tried to get into the Navy but was denied because she was too thin.”

MARY STOLZE visits FireBase Roy. (Contributed photo)

She also had two cousins in the Marine Corps in Vietnam at that time; and another member of the family ended up being killed in the conflict.

Stolze said several times she was told that by joining she was supporting the war and helping it continue. “My response was the nurses were there to help the poor young guys that got dragged over there,” she said.

Stolze went to Fort Sam Houston in Texas, where she was taught how to debride and suture wounds. “Essentially it was learning how to do surgery,” she said.

Before being shipped out, nurses were required to spend about six months working in a military hospital, getting used to the routine.

While at Fort Ord in California, she met her future husband, George Jr. She jokes about being one of three nurses among three floors of men in the officers’ corridors. “I would say, ‘I had the pick of the litter,'” Stolze said with a laugh.

She and George had their first real date on July 4, 1969, and were married on Sept. 12 that same year. “We were both young and scared — and thought we possibly could never see each other again,” she explained.

Stolze left for Vietnam two weeks before her new spouse, as he had left for jungle training in Panama. “I knew he would be stationed farther north in Vietnam because he was with the First Airborne,” she said.

Stolze recalls arriving in Chu Lai, Vietnam, south of Da Nang on China Beach, and looking out the window like it was the surface of the moon. A few months earlier, the Vietnamese ward was hit by rocket fire that killed nurse Sharon Lane, along with Vietnamese civilians.

“I lived a very sheltered life. It was a shock coming in,” she said.

Stolze worked 16- to 18-hour shifts, caring for injured soldiers as well as the Vietnamese, children and prisoners of war. She explained that most nurses wanted to strictly work with the U.S. military.

Patients would be brought to triage, then after being stabilized would be transported to the hospital ship or Japan, depending on severity of need.

“I always said ‘the only clean place in Vietnam was three miles offshore on that hospital ship,'” Stolze said.

As soon as she could she transferred to Phu Bai, 40 miles south of the DMZ, which was fairly primitive and closer to where George was stationed.

She makes fun of trying to call him on shortwave radio and the Vietnamese would keep the frequency open because they wanted to hear what the American girl had to say.

On occasions, he would be able to visit if his unit was near the hospital.

“If his unit had a casualty they would send me someplace else so I wouldn’t see if it was him coming in,” Stolze said. “He never wanted me to know if he was injured.”

They had an ammunition dump blow up, and George was taken to Quan Tre to be treated so she wouldn’t find out. However, while his colonel was pinning Purple Hearts on those in the hospital’s intensive care area, he noticed Stolze’s name tag and gave her the news.

“He just says, ‘Congratulations, your husband will be receiving a Purple Heart, he was injured in the same explosion,'” she said. “I couldn’t believe he just blurted it out.”

Many ask if it was like a MASH unit. She explained it was similar; however, it wasn’t as clean or as funny.

The unit was at the end of the supply line, so medications such as penicillin were always scarce and outdated.

The only IV fluid for six months was Ringer’s lactate solution, which had been pulled from the states because of botulism contamination.

They would often travel to the city to purchase medication and equipment, just so they would have “decent stuff.”

She remembers them bringing hyperthermia blankets but they wouldn’t work when it was 100-plus degrees without air conditioning.

In addition to the wounded, medics dealt with many cases of malaria and a lot of other infections.

Stolze tells of how she and another nurse discovered the theft of pain medication.

“A nurse was replacing the Demerol syringes with different fluids, including Kool-Aid and urine,” she said. “We had patients literally dying in pain — that’s what happens when you can’t get it under control.”

“That was awful — I still remember how helpless we felt, unable to help more,” Stolze added.

They never left the unit without a flak jacket and helmet, as it wasn’t safe, she said. When the sirens would go off, all they could do was hide under their beds.

“It was terrifying — you could hear people running around but never knew who it was, whether it was one of the conscientious objectors (guards) that might shoot you as well, or sappers ready to throw something under there or rockets that would be coming in,” she said.

Stolze said the nurses were issued .45-caliber pistols and M-16 rifles when they came over, but were never allowed to have them. “All we could do is cower,” she said.

Stolze said there were several really bad experiences she didn’t go into, but did share how she felt on one occasion like she was “floating around” the compound and watching people run around.

“For years I thought it was a psychotic break, but after receiving therapy I now know it was dissociate reaction, which people under stress will have that,” she explained.

Not only did they have to deal with the war, they did it in difficult conditions. During the monsoon season, they had constant rain and were knee-deep in mud. In the dry season, the mud turned into a foot of dust.

They were also on constant watch of the insects, snakes and spiders.

“They had a type of bug that looked like colorful June bugs and if it got into your hair you would have to cut them out,” she said. “Rats were the size of a cat.”

Stolze and her husband were able to go on a couple R&Rs to Hong Kong and Australia.

“I ended up getting pregnant on our second trip and as much as I wanted to stay to be with George, I knew it wouldn’t be safe for the baby,” she said, adding she spent about three months of her pregnancy in the country.

Two months later, George was able to return home.

“I wouldn’t recommend spending your first year of marriage in a war zone,” Stolze said.

When she arrived stateside, they had been notified about war demonstrators, so she and another nurse threw their fatigues in the garbage and changed into civilian clothes.

“You could hear everyone yelling. I just couldn’t believe it,” Stolze said. “It was the worst thing — we weren’t welcomed home.”

Stolze said one of the hardest things she dealt with as a nurse during her almost 11 months in Vietnam was not knowing if the men they treated recovered or if their name was on the Vietnam Wall.

When the nurses returned, because they were volunteers and not combat veterans, they weren’t considered eligible for treatment at the Veterans Administration hospitals.

“Things are very different now — all veterans are being treated well,” Stolze said. “And the VA, too, has done an excellent job in making sure we get the therapy and treatment that is needed.”

She credits her doctors and the women’s peer group in dealing with her PTSD, which she had ignored for years.

“I would have nightmares that would carry over for days, or tragic events like 911 would trigger it,” Stolze said.

She added that just talking with other peers and veterans groups is a very healing experience.

When asked if she has returned or would go back to Vietnam, the answer is a simple, “No, thank you.”

“I had the opportunity to go on healing trips and was very close to the border while my daughter was in China,” Stolze said. “The hills and waterfalls going to the ocean are very pretty — it’s a beautiful country, but I never want to go back.”

She and George, who is a retired forester, traveled around the Upper Peninsula, northern Wisconsin and Canada before settling locally. She continued to work as a nurse at hospitals at those locations.

Stolze later earned a bachelor of science degree in nursing from Northern Michigan University and taught nursing classes at Bay de Noc Community College for 26 years before retiring. She also did medical case management for federal workers until the pandemic, when she fully retired.

She and her husband have two children, Gunther and Jessica, and three grandchildren.

Stolze is looking forward to attending the first all-women U.P. Honor Flight to Washington D.C. that is being planned.