by W. R. Benton
"What now?" I asked.
"Well rig up a stretcher from two tree limbs and some shirts from the dead. Then, Ivan here and one of us will take turns packing Ralph back to our base camp. We need to hurry too, because everyone and his brother heard our battle."
When we returned, Sandra was placing an IV in Ralph's arm and Tom grinned when she saw the Russian.
"Sandra, while Tom and John rig a stretcher for Ralph, can you take a look at our guest?"
"Sure." She replied, and then stuck a long forked stick in the dirt beside Ralph and hooked the IV on one of the branches. While we moved off to get the shirts and tree limbs, I could hear the conversation.
Willy rattled off some Russian and the man sat in the dirt, and then stretched out on his back. His hands were still tied behind him.
"How do I do this safely?" Sandra asked.
Will grinned, put his shotgun on the ground and then pulled his pistol. Walking to the prisoner, he knelt beside him and place the gun barrel against the side of his head. "Now, check the bleeding at his groin first, then the arm. If he moves suddenly, you'll hear my shot. Treat him for blood loss, but no painkiller or antibiotics at this point."
I returned with two bloody shirts in my hands and a few seconds later, Tom placed two limbs beside the clothing on the ground near Ralph. I buttoned the shirts down the front and then ran the limbs down the long sleeves of each. We placed Ralph on the shirt buttons and the job was complete. While it'd not hold up for miles and miles, I suspected it would last long enough for us to get the man back to our base camp. If not, we'd make a better one using a poncho.
I watched as Sandra unbuttoned the prisoners trousers and lowered them, along with his green cotton boxer shorts. She gave a light chuckle and said, "Looks like our Dolly tore his scrotum open, and he's a puncture wound to his penis. He's bleeding badly, but the injury is not serious. Once back at camp someone will sew it closed for him."
She placed a bandage against the bleeding bag and taped it in place.
Tom commented, "Rough wound, and our boy almost lost the family jewels."
"Now, let me check his arm."
Willy spat out some more Russian and the man rolled over on his stomach. Pulling her sheath knife, as the green beret sat on the prisoners back, she sliced the shirt up the entire length of the arm. When she pulled the material away from the arm, I grimaced at the damage done.
The forearm muscle was torn loose at the elbow and flapping, and a huge chunk was completely missing from his upper arm. The bite to the upper arm had to hurt and it was bleeding profusely. Sandra placed a bandage on both injuries and then taped them in place.
"He's good to go."
Willy asked, "Can he carry an end of the stretcher?"
"I don't know, really. The medical side of me says he shouldn't, but I think he can for a while anyway."
"Get saddled, we're moving," Willy ordered and then spoke to the Russian. The prisoner moved to Ralph's head and squatted by the stretcher.
Tom went to the front of the stretcher and as soon as they lifted Ralph, we began to move overland toward Top. I felt uneasy, but had no real reason to feel the way I did.
"John, take point, I'll pull drag. We'll take no breaks on the way back. Make a beeline to Top, but don't compromise safety for speed. I love Ralph like a brother, but I'll not risk our lives for his. Next on the stretcher will be Sandra, me, then John and finally back to Tom. If the Russian tires, tough shit. Rotate on the stretcher every twenty minutes."
I stepped off at a slow but steady mile-eating-mile rate and scanned the area closely as we moved. A few times I stopped the group, only to spot a squirrel scurrying up a tree or a rabbit making a mad dash to safety in some thickets. The return trip, as far as all were concerned, was too slow, but uneventful.
Once we entered the cave, Top smiled, moved to the prisoner and asked, "Where'd ya find this vodka slurping sonofabitch?"
Willy grinned and said, "Last night his group almost walked through our over night position, so I popped a Claymore, and then John popped another. This is the only survivor out of two squads."
"He looks to be bleeding a little."
I laughed and said, "Dolly almost tore his balls off and bit his tallywhacker, too. The muscle of his forearm was ripped from the elbow."
Top winked at me and said, "Remind me not to piss off Dolly. One of the men killed a deer late yesterday, so give our canine hero a big raw steak tonight. I feel anyone that can capture a real live Russian should be rewarded. Does this bastard speak English?"
Willy replied, "He claims he doesn't, but if he didn't, why was he with a bunch of American's? I suspect he's working as an adviser."
"Don't worry about it. Someone in intelligence will go to work on him shortly. Oh, by the way, your Stryker is now history."
"How'd that happen with it mined?"
Top chuckled and said, "Late last night a group of close to ten men loaded the thing and cranked the engine. I swear, when the explosives went off, it shook this cave. From the spot we use for guard duty the flames must have been 200 feet in the air."
"Well," I added, "it had well over three quarters of a tank of gas left, and I think your boys may have placed too much C-4 when they booby-trapped it."
"At first light we did a recon and from body parts found, it must have been a squad."
Tom grinned and said, "You know, there ain't no good way to die, but that was likely one of the fastest ways I know of. You're here one minute, and in small pieces the next."
"As we say in special forces, you're in hell before you know you've died."
"Ganton!" Top suddenly yelled.
"Yo!" A huge black man of about twenty-four yelled back.
"Gather up your men and get this Russian bastard out of here. Ask Colonel Parker to work this guy over hard. I figure he knows a little something, only don't expect too much, because he's just a sergeant."
"Will do, Top. Okay, y'all heard the top sergeant, saddle up."
"What of my injuries? Will you not treat them and give me something for my pain?" The Russian suddenly asked in perfect English.
Before I could react, Willy backhanded the man so hard he fell to the floor. Then pulling his knife, he placed his foot on the Russian's chest and said, "You told me you didn't speak English, you lying bastard. I hate a liar with a passion! You denied speaking the language so you could listen to our conversations."
"Sir," Top yelled, "don't kill the worthless piece of shit, he may know something that will save lives. He's a valuable prisoner, Willy!" Top pleaded, and moved to Willy's side. He placed his hand on the captains shoulder and added, "He's not worth it, Willy. Let it go."
Sheathing his knife, Willy said harshly, "I want no medication given to this man or any enemy we capture from now on. We don't have an endless supply, so save it for our own."
"Well said. Ganton, get this scumbag away from us now!"
"You cannot deny me medical attention, because it is part of the Geneva Convention. As a POW I demand medical treatment!"
Top grinned and said, "Ivan, the United States government signed and agreed to the Geneva Convention, not us. See, America no longer exists as a sovereign nation, so we don't have to adhere to a damned thing. I think your trainers may have forgotten to tell you that part. I don't think this is your lucky day."
Ganton moved to the prisoner and said, "Let's move. You burp or look cross-eyed and one of us will stick a knife in your gut."
I pulled the duct tape from my pack, threw it to Ganton and said, "Cover his mouth with this once outside, and he'll be quiet on the trip.
Sandra was suddenly by my side and when I looked at her she looked like hell warmed over. She hadn't slept in close to thirty-six hours, so she had a right to look rough. I started to speak, but she said, "We have to take Alisa's leg off in just a few minutes."
"Do you have what you need?"
"Pretty much, because it doesn't really take any special tools except for a bone-saw. I just wish
we had more of her blood type."
"Ganton, stop!" I called out as the man started to leave the cave with our prisoner. Then turning to Willy I asked, "Is blood type on Russian dog tags?"
"No, they don't have the same information on theirs as we do, but it should be on a card in his wallet."
Top must have read my mind, because he ordered the prisoner brought to us. Then he smiled at the Russian, pulled his pistol, and then asked, "What is your blood type? If you answer me, you will receive full medical treatment. If you refuse to talk or lie to me, I'll kill you where you stand."
"My blood type is O negative, why?"
Willy, who'd opened the man's wallet, pulled out a small card and said, "Yep, O negative and his name is Adrik Chirkoff. He's also a senior sergeant."
"What kind of name is Jerkoff?" Tom asked and then broke out laughing.
"That's enough of that, Tom. Ganton, our Soviet visitor has just volunteered to give two pints or more of blood." Top said, but I could see he was wanting to laugh as well.
Sandra instantly shot back, "He can't give "
"Yes he can and he will. After you take blood from him, treat him properly and give him a painkiller. Take as much as you can without killing the man."
The Russian grinned as Ganton led him to the area where the blood would be taken.
"Top, he's already weak from the loss of blood. If I take two pints it could very well kill him. If I take more than two, he'll die." Sandra said.
"I fully realize he may die, but I'll not let one of my people expire if I can avoid it at any cost. And, young lady, there is something you need to learn about war."
Looking puzzled, she asked, "What's that?"
"Shit happens. Now, draw your blood from Adrik and try to save Alisa's life. I've forgotten about the Russian already."
*****
I sat on an oak log someone had pulled in to use as a sofa and opened my MRE. I was hungry and tired. I'd just taken the first bite of something that was suppose to be an omelet, when I noticed Sandra approaching me.
When in front of me she asked, "Honey, I know you're tired and so am I, but can you help us remove Alisa's leg?"
I gave a dry chuckle and replied, "Well, the sight of blood doesn't bother me, but I'm afraid my medical experience may be a bit low. I was trained in combat first aid and can keep anyone, but the most severely wounded, alive long enough to get to a doctor. I think I'm lacking in the skills you need."
"I'll be doing the actual surgery, but I need someone to hand me the tools as I work. Besides Willy, who will assist, and Tom, who'll be there too, you're the only one I know that can help."
"Hell, I thought we had a doctor or nurse practitioner here?"
"Had, is the key word now. Top sent the nurse off to help some men who'd been severely injured in an ambush."
"Baby, you know I'll help if I can." I placed my meal by my foot and started to stand, when she said, "I knew you would, because that's the kind of man I married. But, sit back down, she's still in what we'd call pre-op. We have to give her something to put her out, shave the skin around the amputation spot, and some other things. Right now, I just need an answer."
"How long do I have to eat?"
She gave a dry chuckle and said, "You have about ten minutes. Willy is getting her ready now and from the way you veterans eat, I suspect you can eat and still have eight minutes to relax. As soon as you finish the meal, come join us." I watched as she turned and walked toward the small group assembled around Alisa.
Well, she was wrong, I finished the entree and side-dish in three minutes. I stood, wiped the dirt from my hands, and thought, Lord, let Alisa live. She's a good woman and deserves better than what we're about to do to her. However, thy will be done.
CHAPTER 16
To be honest, Alisa looked more dead than alive when I neared the table. Her skin was pale and the medication they'd given her must have been working, because she was completely out of this world.
"How much blood did you take from the Russian?" I asked.
"Three, pints and that's all we have for this surgery. We had to use your blood earlier today." Sandra replied and then continued, "Now, wash your hands well with soap and water, then pour a little alcohol on them. We'll start in a few minutes."
I was fascinated by the surgery, but was lost most of the time, because Sandra would ask for this or that tool and I had no understanding of why she needed it. Things went well, until Sandra pushed the sharp bone cutting blade of the bone-saw across Alisa's leg.
An earsplitting scream filled the cave and Sandra yelled to be heard, "Willy, more morphine!"
Alisa attempted to move from the crates we were using as an operating table, and her body flailed in all directions. She made the most inhuman babbling sounds and screams as pain radiated through her body. Sandra quickly pulled the saw away and backed from her patient.
Willy swung into action and in just a little time Alisa fell back, with no sounds from her at all.
"Is she dead?" I asked.
"No, not even close. It's the morphine. It's good shit for surgery and lays a person low in no time." Willy said, and then winked at me.
Sandra returned to the leg and added, "It used to be sold in a diluted form called laudanum over the counter of most general stores. The difference in laudanum is it had a heavy dose of alcohol mixed with it as well."
"Sounds too dangerous to offer over the counter," I said, and watched her grasp the saw firmly with both hands.
"Big addiction problem in the late 1800's, especially following the War of Union Aggression. The north had all the drugs, except for what the south could smuggle or steal and as a result, the addiction problem was bigger in the north. Read your history, honey, and you'll learn laudanum and opium were as popular in the days of the cowboy as beer is today." Sandra said and then ordered, "Hold her down, Willy, this leg must come off now."
A few minutes later the leg fell to the floor of the cave with a dull thud. Alisa hadn't moved again, and I felt she'd been blessed. I knew the shock alone of Sandra cutting the bone could easily kill.
"John, hold the loose flap of skin up as I use stitches to close the flap over the raw end."
As I held the skin in place, I asked, "What's the odds of infection, if she survives the surgery?"
"Well, she's got a better than average chance of survival, really. We'll use some triple antibiotic ointment on the injury, give her the rest of the blood, and hopefully in a few days she'll be fine. But, even in a hospital like we had before the fall, there were no guarantees."
"How's the Russian?"
She shrugged her shoulders and said, "He was unconscious the last time I checked. He'd already lost a lot of blood, and we took too damned much from him. I'm not sure if he'll make it or not."
"I guess you didn't have to medicate him, huh?"
"Huh-uh, he passed out from blood loss."
"It'd be an easy death."
At that point she smiled at me and said, "I can finish this alone. Go wash your hands and then get some sleep; you look rough."
"I'll do that, if you'll lay beside me in a few minutes."
"Oh, don't worry about that, because my ass is draggin' from being up all night. Only, this had to be done now and not later, or Alisa would have died."
I leaned forward, kissed her on the cheek and then made my way to the washbasin.
*****
The next morning both Adrik and Alisa were still among the living, but I didn't think the Russian would be with us much longer. I sat in the dirt of the cave and shared part of an MRE with Dolly. As she ate, I scratched her ears absentmindedly. I did a whole lot of thinking about nothing the hour before, simply allowing my mind to jump from subject to subject without attempting to control it. My mind jumped from making love to Sandra, to the last time I'd seen my father, and then to a circus I'd seen as a small child. I enjoy my nonsense thinking because after doing it for an hour or two, I always felt refreshed.
Top walked over a
nd sat beside me, placing his coffee cup on the ground.
"What's on your mind, Top, or is this a social call?"
He smiled and replied, "Absolutely nothing is on my mind right now. Actually, it's been a good day, so far."
Suddenly interested, I asked, "And why is today going so well?"
"Just got off the radio with G2 intelligence, and the American POW you brought in is singing like a robin these days."
"Does he know much?"
Top nodded and said, "He's full of more shit than a Thanksgiving turkey. The problem now, or so they tell me, is he won't shut up."
"How'd they get him to sing?"
Top laughed loud and hard, but after a few minutes he said, "They had one of our men who'd been sentenced to death for being a spy. He was guilty as hell and admitted it, so we had to make an example of him. They held off the execution until the new man arrived. After your POW had been there a few hours, playing Mister Hard-ass and refusing to answer any questions, they brought the condemned man out, forced him to kneel, and then shot him in the back of the neck. He fell right next to the POW's foot. G2 said he hasn't stopped talking since the execution."
I grew sober and then asked, "What will they eventually do with him? I mean, we don't have a POW camp or even a way to house prisoners."
"I honestly don't know and don't want to know. I suspect they'll kill him, once they milk all they can out of him. We don't have the manpower to watch POW's or even a prison."
"I'd suspect that's exactly what they'll do, so we can expect the same if we get captured, or so I guess."
"I think you're correct with that guess. Anyway, he informed G2 the Russians are here only as advisers, and the large convoy you spotted was taking them to various units. They usually work in two men teams, totally different than our Green Berets."
"Did he have any idea why the Russians are supporting this one group?"
Top cleared his throat and replied, "Yep, because they're the biggest unit in the states right now, with close to 10,000 men and women."