George was my high school pal and we stayed friends throughout all the years and over all the miles we spent apart. I kidnapped him from Walter Reed Army Hospital back in 1969. They said he needed special treatment and therapy and that’s why he couldn’t go home for Christmas. A rocket had taken a huge toll on his lower extemities.
Mom called me. It was his Mom but I always called her Mom as well. I lived with them for awhile as a teenager. She was crying when she called. She wanted her son home for Christmas but also wanted to be sure I would be there as well. She was concerned because I was still on active duty when I got out of Nam. I told her, “I’ll definitely be there for Christmas”.
Before Christmas I went to see George at WR. His leg (stump) was in traction; hooked up to a 10 lb bag of flour suspended from a pulley. It was to aid in the healing of the skin over the amputation point.
George said, “Take me home. I want to go home for Christmas but they won’t let me out of here. Besides, what are they going to do? Throw me out of the army”?
George never had to ask me twice for anything. I got a wheel chair, grabbed the chart hanging on the hospital bed, some dressings, salves, the traction get up, and his pain meds. Then we wheeled off down the hall, down the elevator, out the front door to my Volkswagon Beetle. It was tricky getting him into the Bug since he also had an ankle to hip cast on his other leg. He put his stump on the VW’s dash (what dash there was) and his other leg (with a little hat on his toes) out the window.
We laughed all the way home to Syracuse, N.Y., having to stop once to wrap his toes in something a bit warmer. It was one of the best moments in our friendship. I got him home to Mom and since I was a medic, I stayed to take care of his wound. Eventually the MP’s came to get him. That was funny too. He didn’t rat me out of course. He told ‘em he’d taken a cab. 
Peace
Great story! Are you two still close?