Women in War

Invigorating new works continue to surface on ABC.

The latest is “China Beach,” grim and brooding, yet captivating, unforgettable and not to be missed, a series about the effect of the Vietnam War on several American women working in various capacities near Da Nang in the mid-1960s.

At times it overreaches, overdraws, oversentimentalizes. Yet among its excesses are troves of dark brilliance that mark “China Beach” as a potentially significant series.

Its seven-segment trial begins with tonight’s two-hour premiere at 9 on Channels 7, 3,10 and 42 in advance of its regular run at 10 on Wednesdays.

This season’s “Tour of Duty” This season’s “Tour of Duty” became American television’s first dramatic series about the Vietnam War, a worthy CBS offering about GIs in battle that unfortunately followed those fine theatrical films “Platoon” and “Full Metal Jacket,” and suffered by comparison.

“China Beach” has no commercial counterpart, no overpowering Dolby sound or panoramic screen memories to compete with. It burns its own agonizing images into the small screen, setting them off with streaks of humor that relieve the tension.

The conflicts and ironies of war are ever present. The sounds of shelling and rock ‘n’ roll mingle in the China Beach area that sits adjacent to the U.S. air base at Da Nang and houses a hospital, entertainment center and living quarters. But the sounds you won’t forget are the zippers--the zipping of dead GIs into body bags for shipping home.

Created by John Sacret Young and William Broyles Jr., “China Beach” at least initially makes no statement about the politics of the war (the time frame predates the bulk of the anti-war protests), instead its characters reflect the pain, not the morality or immorality, of the conflict.

Written by Young (“Testament” and “A Rumor of War”) and directed by Rod Holcomb, the premiere is too long and flawed by occasional script conveniences and a conclusion whose heaving, choking sentiment is almost unbearable.

Otherwise, the saga of these women--and men--in the epicenter of war is deep, honest and moving, augmented by striking visuals that convey the blood-soaked horrors of Vietnam and the ambivalence of many of those caught up in the conflict.

The story’s hub is a tormented nurse who has clearly seen too much war and dying, but persists in her work despite buckling under the strain. Colleen McMurphy (Dana Delany) can’t seem to remove the blood from her skin and complains that the choppers bearing dead and wounded “never stop coming.” Her dark, soulful eyes often seem blank.

When we meet McMurphy, sitting on a beach in a bathing suit, before the inevitable whir of choppers has her rushing back to the operating theater, she has only a week remaining on her tour and seems eager to leave. But she will surprise no one by deciding to stay on.

She, more than anyone, defines the mental scarring and the bleakness of the terrain, routinely having conversations with a soldier amid body-bagged corpses in a makeshift morgue.

Also on the scene are Lila Garreau (Concetta Tomei), a special services officer for the military; and a stunning woman known as K.C. (Marg Helgenberger), whose entrepreneurial skills extend to hooking.

Two other women arrive tonight, Red Cross worker Cherry White (Nan Woods), who is searching for her missing brother, and singer Laurette Barber (Chloe Webb), who has come to entertain the troops, while carrying a tune like a load of bricks.

Delany is excellent as McMurphy. Yet Webb nearly steals the show as the guileless Barber, her comic coarseness the perfect counterpoint to the somber McMurphy, as the two ultimately become roommates.

Webb is just hilarious while trying to train an operatic tenor to join her act in Wednesday’s episode. “I can’t lower myself, my art,” he protests after trying to belt out “I’ll Be There.”

Written by Broyles (a Vietnam War veteran and former Newsweek editor-in-chief), it’s a wonderful hour in which McMurphy must deliver the baby of a Viet Cong woman who has killed one of McMurphy’s GI friends with a grenade. The Viet Cong woman who has taken life, now produces life. And the American woman who hates her, collaborates in the birth. Later these two enemies find another common denominator, and their tangle of emotions makes for powerful storytelling.

Subsequent episodes don’t succeed as consistently. Even when “China Beach” doesn’t work, however, it’s still interesting, provocative and something to celebrate.

Not that ABC gets all good marks. You have the feeling that the title of its newest comedy, “Just the Ten of Us,” refers to the number of viewers it will attract. Either that or their IQ.

Starting a limited run at at 8:30 tonight, “Just the Ten of Us” is a spinoff from “Growing Pains” that gives new meaning to the word stupid.

That good-natured lug, Coach Lubbock (Bill Kirchenbauer), and his wife Elizabeth (Deborah Harmon) have seven kids, ranging from an infant to 15-year-old twin daughters, with another on the way. After losing his job as football coach at Dewey High School in New York, therefore, he’s thrilled to get a job at a boy’s prep school in Eureka, Calif.

The family’s adjustment is mixed. The girls love the move, because they get to attend the boy’s school. Coach’s son has a hard time gaining acceptance from his classmates at school though, so he tells everyone his father’s a killer on the lam. Naturally this causes the coach problems, and boy is he mad when he gets home.

Coach to his dog: How was your day, huh?

Dog: Woof.

Coach: Yeah, my day was rough, too.

Naturally, it just keeps getting better and better.