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Hey, everyone. Welcome back. We're diving into Kristin Hannah's The Women Today, a story that takes us right into the heart of the Vietnam War. And we're going deep way beyond the history books to uncover what it was really like to be there, especially for the women who lived through it. Exactly. So forget the dates and the battles for now. We'll experience this war through the eyes of a young nurse named Frankie. It's fiction, sure, but Hannah really captures the emotional truth of the era. Frankie's journey is something else, let me tell you. Picture this, 1960s America, small town, good girl, kind of sheltered, you know? Yeah, totally. Hannah nails that sense of innocence, that naivete about the war, especially coming from a background like Frankie's. And the expectations placed on young women back then. Limited, to say the least. Oh, absolutely. Teacher, nurse, secretary, those were pretty much the options. No room for much else. And it's not like Frankie had this burning desire to be a nurse, but it was expected. Right. Fit in, follow the rules, make your parents happy. That was the social climate for many women in the 60s. But then, boom, her world changes completely. Her brother, Finley, a Navy pilot, killed in action in Vietnam. Talk about a life-altering event, that loss, that grief. It's what pushes Frankie to enlist. Like she has to do something, you know? Be part of something bigger than herself. A very human response to such a huge loss, especially with the whole wave of patriotism sweeping the nation. So off she goes to Vietnam. But here's the thing, Frankie's got this idealized view of service, of what she's getting into. And Hannah doesn't let us forget for a second what she's walking into, the reality of war. It's like you're right there with Frankie. The heat, the noise, the smells, it's all so intense. The overcrowded hospitals, the constant fear, the sheer number of young men wounded, it's overwhelming. And Frankie's way of coping, she becomes obsessed with rules and regulations, like it's the only thing keeping her sane. It's a common reaction to trauma, you know? When everything's chaotic, you cling to anything familiar, anything that feels safe. Remember that part where she insists on wearing her helmet and flak jacket to a party? Almost funny if it wasn't so heartbreaking. She's just trying to hold on to some sense of order in this crazy upside down world. And speaking of order, she finds it in the most unexpected place, her fellow nurses, Ethel and Barb. And they are, to put it mildly, an interesting bunch. Total opposites in almost every way. But war has a funny way of doing that, right? Forging these intense bonds, regardless of your background. It's about survival, plain and simple. In a war zone, that support system, that sense of camaraderie, it can be a lifeline. I still get chills thinking about Ethel's advice to Frankie, watch out, take care of yourself. So simple, but so profound. That's it, right there, their mantra. Because in the midst of all that death, taking care of each other was the only way to make it through. And just as Frankie's starting to find her footing, she meets Jamie. Ah, Jamie, a married surgeon, complicated much. You could say that again, their connection is undeniable, but it's also tangled up in all sorts of moral dilemmas. Wartime love, it's messy, it's passionate, and often it's fleeting. And speaking of messy, just as Frankie's finding her way, both personally and professionally, the war throws another curve ball. The Ted offensive. Yeah. A turning point in the war, wouldn't you say? Absolutely. And we'll see how Frankie handles it all when we come back.
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When we left off, the Ted offensive was in full swing, turning everything upside down. It really shook things up, both in Vietnam and back home. Frankie's right in the thick of it. It's chaos, pure and simple. Hannah doesn't hold back on the details either. You feel the relentlessness of it all. The casualties just keep coming. And Frankie, she's working around the clock, pushing herself to the limit. It's like all the idealism, all those notions of service. They start to crumble under the sheer weight of it all. And you see that disillusionment creeping in for Frankie. The things she's seeing, the things she's experiencing, they don't match up with what's being said back home. It's a classic case of the fog of war, isn't it? The gap between the reality on the ground and the narrative being spun for the public. And that gap becomes even more apparent when Frankie finally returns home to California. Talk about a culture shock. One minute she's surrounded by the horrors of war, the next she's back in her old life, like nothing's changed. It's like stepping into a parallel universe and everyone expects her to just snap back to normal. But how can you snap back from something like that? The things she's seen, the things she's done, they've changed her. Exactly, it's all bubbling under the surface and it comes to a head rather dramatically at a baby shower. Oh man, that scene is rough. Everyone's all happy, celebrating new life and Frankie just loses it. Surrounded by babies and presents and all that normalcy, while the memories of war are still so vivid for her. Hannah does an incredible job of capturing that sense of displacement, that feeling of being caught between two worlds. It's the invisible wounds of war, the ones that don't heal so easily. Frankie, she realizes she can't just go back to her old life, it doesn't fit anymore. So she sets off on a new path, a path to healing, to finding her place in this new reality. And that path leads her to the VA hospital. Makes sense, right. Surrounding herself with others to understand what she's going through. It's not a cure-all, not by any means, but it's a start. She connects with patients, other nurses, many of them Vietnam vets themselves. It's all about finding that sense of community, that shared understanding that's so hard to come by in the civilian world. But even with that support, Frankie still feels this pull to escape, to find some peace. And where does she end up? Of all places, Montana. Talk about a change of scenery. Right, but it's exactly what she needs. Wide open spaces, fresh air, a chance to breathe again. And it's in Montana, along with Ethel and Barb, that she creates the Last Best Place Ranch. A sanctuary, specifically for women veterans. A place where they can heal, connect with nature, and support each other. It's a beautiful testament to the power of female friendship and the healing power of nature. And for Frankie, it's a chance to finally use her experiences to help others, to make a real difference. It's like she's finding her purpose again. But just as she's starting to feel whole again, something happens that pulls her right back into the past, the dedication of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington, D.C. Talk about a powerful moment, seeing all those names etched in stone. It's a stark reminder of the war's toll. And for Frankie and her friends, it's an emotional roller coaster. There's grief, there's anger, there's a sense of closure, maybe. It's a way to honor those who served, to honor those who were lost, to acknowledge their sacrifices in a way that wasn't always there when they came home. And then there's this one encounter that really sticks with me. Frankie meets another veteran, and he's carrying this small stone. Turns out it's a reminder of a little girl he treated at an orphanage during the war. It's amazing how such a small object can hold so much weight, so much meaning. It speaks to the enduring impact of war, how it stays with you even decades later. And for Frankie, it triggers a memory of her own, a young Vietnamese boy who gave her a similar stone as a gift. A moment of human connection amidst all that destruction. It's a powerful reminder that even in the darkest of times, hope and compassion can still exist. But as much as the memorial got some sense of closure, Frankie's journey isn't over yet. Remember Jamie, the surgeon she fell for in Vietnam? The one who was presumed dead. Well, turns out he didn't die in that helicopter crash. He was a prisoner of war. Wow, talk about a twist of fate. To survive all that, only to come home too. What, a whole other set of challenges. Exactly, his wife has moved on, built a new life, believing he was gone. And now he's back and everything's turned upside down. It's like picking up the pieces of a life that's been shattered and trying to put them back together in some recognizable form. And Frankie, she's caught in the middle of it all. Old feelings resurface, new complications arise. It's a lot to process. Especially because Frankie's life has also moved on in some ways. She's found love again with Henry, a kind and supportive man who helped her through some really dark times. It's a classic love triangle, but with the weight of the Vietnam War adding a whole other level of complexity. And if that wasn't enough,
Frankie gets hit with another life altering curve ball. But we'll save that for the final part of our deep dive. So Jamie's back, Frankie's got a lot on her plate, and then bam, she finds out she's pregnant. Talk about a curve ball, suddenly it's not just about her anymore. It's like all these choices, all these paths, they all lead back to this one life altering moment. And Hannah doesn't shy away from the weight of those decisions, especially for women in that era. Frankie's grappling with her feelings for Jamie, her growing connection with Henry, and now a baby on the way. It's a lot to process, even without the shadow of the war hanging over everything. And ultimately, Frankie makes a choice.
She decides to marry Henry. Trying to do what she thinks is right, what's expected of her, create a stable home for her child. But it's like deep down a part of her nose, it's not what her heart truly desires. And sometimes those internal conflicts, they have a way of manifesting in, well, heartbreaking ways. Because tragically, she loses the baby. It's a devastating loss, one that sends Frankie spiraling. She's back in that dark place trying to numb the pain, however she can, alcohol, pills. It's a rough chapter. Hannah doesn't sugarcoat the reality of PTSD, of how trauma can resurface, even years later. Frankie's hidden rock bottom, loses her job, almost dies in a drunk driving accident. It's a stark reminder that sometimes healing isn't a straight line. There are setbacks, detours. It's actually Henry, the man she pushed away, who helps her pick up the pieces. He sees the pain she's in, the pain she's trying so hard to hide, and he doesn't run from it. He helps her find a therapist, a support group. He's there for her every step of the way. It's a beautiful testament to the power of love and compassion, of how sometimes healing starts with allowing someone to see your wounds, to acknowledge your pain. And slowly, Frankie starts to heal. It's a long, difficult process, but she starts to talk about her experiences, to confront the demons that have been haunting her. And through that process, she rediscover something she thought she'd lost forever. Her passion for nursing. It's like that desire to help others to ease their suffering. It never truly went away. She starts working at a VA clinic, pouring her heart into her work. And eventually she becomes an advocate, speaking out about the often overlooked sacrifices of women in the war. It's about giving a voice to the voiceless, about making sure their stories are heard. And in the end, Frankie finds peace. Not the kind of peace you find in a quiet corner, but the kind that comes from confronting your past, from making peace with your choices, your regrets, your triumphs. It's a hard one piece, but it's a piece that allows her to finally move forward, to embrace life on her own terms. The women, it's a powerful story, isn't it? It stays with you long after you finish the last page. It reminds us that behind the headlines, behind the history books, there are real people with real stories, stories that deserve to be told. So the next time you hear about the Vietnam War, take a moment to remember the women like Frankie, the nurses, the mothers, the daughters, their sacrifices, their resilience. They're a part of history too. And their stories have the power to change the way we see the world, if we're willing to listen. Thanks for joining us on this deep dive. We'll catch you next time.