In 1966 on Coronado Island, twenty-year-old Frances “Frankie” McGrath watched her brother Finley’s send-off to Vietnam, where his friend Joseph “Rye” Walsh told her women could be heroes. His words unsettled her family’s male-centric legacy and planted a seed. Months later, as a new RN, Frankie met a wounded Vietnam veteran who credited an Evac nurse with saving him, and she enlisted in the Army Nurse Corps. When she told her parents, Navy-proud Connor and status-minded Bette, their disapproval was interrupted by officers reporting Finley’s death in a helicopter shoot-down, forcing mother and daughter into raw grief that did not change Frankie’s resolve to serve.

Deployed to Vietnam in early 1967, Frankie arrived under fire and sickness, then learned the 36th Evac’s brutal pace from Patty Perkins and roommates Ethel Flint and Barb Johnson. She endured rocket attacks, her first MASCAL triage, and sat with expectant patients as they died. Mentored by Ethel and surgeons like Jamie Callahan, she moved from Neuro nights under Captain Ted Smith to Surgery, closing abdomens during pushes and discovering purpose amid chaos. MEDCAPs exposed her to civilian suffering, including a field amputation and a traumatized toddler, Mai. Bonds tightened under monsoon misery and constant loss, and an unconsummated attraction to married Jamie deepened into respect and friendship before he was gravely wounded and coded during medevac. Reassigned with Barb to the 71st Evac at Pleiku, Frankie proved herself to Lt. Col. “Hap” Dickerson during blackout surgeries under rocket fire as Dak To raged.

Through late 1967, disillusionment grew as official reports clashed with bodies stacked at the morgue, even on Christmas Eve. Rye and a Seawolf copilot risked a quick landing to deliver a scraggly tree, stirring a pull between Rye and Frankie that she refused while he was engaged. During Tet, rockets hammered the 71st; Frankie performed an emergency tracheotomy, steadied a frozen new surgeon, and comforted Private Albert Brown as he died, then chose to extend another year. On R&R in Kauai, Rye revealed he had ended his engagement; their days became an intense love affair, and when Frankie disclosed she had re-upped, Rye vowed to do the same so they could face the war together. Back in-country, Frankie worked through napalm influxes and POW casualties, held a dying infant, and later was promoted to First Lieutenant; Rye whispered he would love her till he died, a phrase that haunted her.

Frankie DEROSed in March 1969 and was spat on at LAX, then returned to parents who minimized her service. After she learned from Rye’s father that Rye had been killed in action, she collapsed into grief until Ethel and Barb pulled her outside and helped her reclaim nursing. Stateside, she was minimized on a night shift and fired after saving a gunshot victim with a tracheotomy. A family blowup ended with Connor throwing her out; a VA doctor dismissed her service; and Ethel and Barb spirited her to Virginia to rebuild. By 1971, she balanced surgical work with activism, marched with VVAW as Gold Star Mothers were blocked, and bought a POW/MIA bracelet. A Navy wives’ fundraiser introduced Anne Jenkins and, in the same breath, news of Bette’s stroke; Frankie rushed home, supported ICU care, reconciled with Connor, and accepted a Coronado cottage. She joined the League of Families, tabled for POWs, and steadied her life.

In 1972, a July Fourth trigger sent Frankie to the ground; psychiatrist Henry Acevedo helped her home, and a quiet relationship began. She marched in VVAW’s silent “last patrol” at the Republican National Convention, then wrestled with returning nightmares. Near Christmas she discovered she was pregnant; Henry proposed and her parents rejoiced. As the Peace Accord and Operation Homecoming unfolded, Frankie prepared for marriage and watched POWs return—until she saw Rye alive on television. With Barb and Ethel, she went to NAS Miramar, where Rye limped into the arms of a wife and daughter. Days later, amid plans to proceed with her wedding for the baby’s sake, Frankie miscarried. She ended the engagement with Henry, received her mother’s guarded comfort, and slid into pills, insomnia, and isolation.

Placed on leave after freezing in surgery, Frankie fixated on Rye, followed his family, and then, when he came to her, learned he had married due to a pregnancy before the war, had never worn a ring, and had survived torture in Hanoi. They began an affair while he remained married, and though Frankie tried to end it at Barb’s wedding, she accepted Rye’s proposal—only to find Melissa Walsh giving birth to his son. Shattered, Frankie fled, drove impaired, and crashed. Rejected from a VA rap group, rebuffed but admonished by the bicyclist she nearly hit, and drifting on pills and grief, she sleepwalked into the ocean and was placed on an involuntary psychiatric hold.

Frankie completed inpatient detox and trauma therapy in early 1974 under Henry’s program and Dr. Alden, finally naming her PTSD and reclaiming the worth of her Vietnam service. With Barb’s visit and group work, she began to believe she could heal. She reconciled with her parents, worked AA, made amends, sold her cottage, and, with Barb’s help, searched the West for quiet until a Montana farm felt like a place to start over. Over years she and fellow nurse Donna built The Last Best Place, a ranch and refuge for women who served, earned advanced degrees, restored their licenses, and created a wall titled “THE WOMEN.”

In 1982, an invitation to a 36th Evac reunion tied to the Vietnam Veterans Memorial dedication stirred anger and resolve. Frankie led a group discussion about the Wall, Agent Orange, miscarriages, and silence, then traveled to Washington with Barb and Ethel. At the Wall, finally hearing “Welcome home and thank you,” she found Finley’s name with her parents, and Connor apologized for how he had treated her, calling her “Peanut.” Walking the panels, she was stunned to meet Jamie Callahan alive, scarred and on a prosthetic, returning the carved “YOU FIGHT MCGRATH” stone and telling her she had helped him survive. Surrounded by veterans and families, Frankie claimed pride in her service and renewed her purpose to tell the story that began with the truth: they were there, and the women’s courage would not be forgotten.