Sacrifice of One

by Jamie Fredric

  Adler tried to cheer himself up by thinking, That outta be fun to watch!

  It took a little while, but everyone insisted on shaking the doctor’s hand. He gave a short wave, then walked back to the double doors, disappearing behind them.

  Torrinson took the SEALs aside. “Gentlemen, this was another remarkable mission. I’m sure you know how much we sincerely appreciate what you did.

  “Look, I’ll put in a call to your CO and see if I can extend your stay for a couple extra days. You can get some rest, then come back in a day or so. I’m sure Captain Stevens will want to thank you himself.”

  Lieutenant Monroe replied, “Appreciate that, admiral. Guess it’s time for us to get some sack time, sir, so we’ll leave.”

  Adler started to go talk to the Moshenkos when a sound of a woman’s heels, clicking on the linoleum floor, made him turn.

  A Navy lieutenant, wearing her service dress whites, and carrying her cap, was hurrying down the hallway. She was about 5’7” with brown hair that was twisted into a knot at the nape of her neck. She stopped in front of him. “Excuse me, lieutenant. Are you here for Captain Stevens?” she asked nervously.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Oh, good,” she replied, trying to catch her breath.

  Adler noticed her name tag. “Oh! Lieutenant Palmer! I’m Joe Adler.”

  “Joe Adler. Grant’s spoken of you. Nice to meet you.”

  “You, too, ma’am.”

  “Please. I don’t have much time. Do you have any news? Can I see him?”

  “The last I heard, they were taking him to the recovery room. Doc ran through a list of his injuries but assured us he’d make a full recovery. He’ll probably be here at least another five weeks. And answering your second question, nobody can see him yet, and probably not for another couple of hours.”

  “Oh, I see,” she replied with disappointment. She walked in a small circle with her head down.

  “Anything I can help with, ma’am?” Adler questioned.

  She stood quietly for a moment, then turned to look at him. “I drove here from Rhein-Main. I just found out he was here. I was hoping to see him.”

  “Maybe you can come back tomorrow. He’ll probably be in better shape then, anyway.”

  She shook her head. “No. I can’t. I have to get back to the base,” she answered, as she looked at her Timex. “I’m leaving for D.C. tonight. I’ve got new orders to Pearl (Pearl Harbor, Hawaii). I didn’t expect I’d have much time to see him, but I was hoping.” She hooked the strap of her purse on her shoulder, then said, “Well, look, Lieutenant Joe Adler...tell him I was here. Would you do that, please?”

  “I will, ma’am.”

  She held her hand out and he shook it. “Good luck with the new orders, ma’am.”

  “Thanks.” With that, she turned and walked away.

  Adler watched her briefly, thinking, Thought the skipper ended that one. Maybe he did, but doesn’t sound like she did.

  He waved Grigori toward him. “Colonel, sir. Are you feeling better?”

  “Yes, Joe. Alexandra and I are relieved.” He leaned toward her and whispered in her ear.

  She paused, then gave Adler a hug, and said very slowly, trying to pronounce each word carefully, “Tank you, Joe.”

  Moshenko smiled at her and then gave Adler a wink before asking, “Do you believe we will see Grant soon?”

  Adler glanced at his watch. “Maybe in another couple of hours. I don’t know if they’ll let all of us in, sir. We’ll have to wait and see. And if not today, tomorrow for sure.”

  “Do you mind if we wait with you, Joe?”

  “Of course not. Look, if you’re hungry I can take you down to the geedunk.”

  “Gee-dunk?” Moshenko asked, with his brow wrinkling.

  “Oh, I mean the cafeteria, the galley, sir.”

  Moshenko translated for Alexandra, then answered, “We would like that.”

  As they started for the elevator, Adler stopped near Torrinson. “Sir, we’re going to grab a bite. Would you like to join us, or can I bring you something?”

  “Appreciate the offer, Joe, but think I’ll wait here.”

  An hour later, a Navy nurse came down the hall and walked up to Torrinson. “Admiral, are you waiting to see Captain Stevens?”

  “Yes. Yes, I am.”

  “If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to him, sir. They brought him to his room a little while ago,” she said over her shoulder. “I don’t know if you’ll be having any long conversation,” she smiled. “He’s still coming out of the anesthesia.”

  “I understand.”

  “Oh, you can still talk to him. In fact, we’d like you to do that. It will help him fight off the effects from the anesthesia.” She motioned with her arm. “Right in here, admiral.”

  He followed her into a large room with six beds, three of which had curtains drawn around them. The far wall had a bank of windows, with white aluminum blinds. White vinyl tiles covered the floor.

  She walked to the second bed. “Here we are.” A green curtain hung by a metal rod from the ceiling, forming a U around the bed. She drew one side of it back. “I’ll check back in a little while.” She left.

  Torrinson stood near the foot of the bed, staring at Grant. He never would have imagined seeing him this way. Wires led from his body and arms to monitors that constantly beeped, flashing his heart rate, pulse, temperature, and O2 SAT (oxygen saturation). Oxygen was flowing through tubes into his nostrils. His right arm was bent at the elbow. A wrap held it in place against his body. There was swelling and black and blue marks on his face; small cuts on his nose, and near his mouth and eyes; a bandage was taped above his temple. “Jesus Christ!” Torrinson whispered to himself, as his fingers curled around the cool metal of the bed.

  He walked around the side, and laid his cap on the side table. Picking up a chair, he set it close to the bed, then sat down. Leaning close to the side rails, he spoke softly. “Captain. Captain Stevens. Can you hear me? It’s Admiral Torrinson, Grant.” There was a slight movement of Grant’s head. “Grant,” he said louder.

  Grant’s eyes remained closed, as he answered in barely a hoarse whisper, with words very slurred. “Yes...sir.”

  “Glad to have you back, Grant.” No response. “Joe and Colonel Moshenko are here. They’re outside waiting to see you.”

  “Yes...sir.” He tried turning his head in the direction of the voice, but nothing was working as it should. And he couldn’t seem to open his eyes.

  Torrinson stood. He leaned over the side rail and gently laid a hand on top of Grant’s head. “Okay, sailor. I’ll let you rest. I’ll be back later.”

  “Yes...sir.”

  As Torrinson picked up his cap, a duty nurse, wearing a white uniform and nurse’s cap, came in with a tray holding needles and small tubes. “Time for blood work,” she said, placing the tray on the side table.

  “How long will it take for the anesthesia to wear off, lieutenant?”

  “Everybody’s different, sir, but I would think in a few hours he’ll be much more coherent. Every time one of us comes in to poke and prod him, he’ll come around more,” she smiled, “and we’re here more than you can imagine, admiral.”

  “Thank you.” Torrinson left the room, then turned down the passageway, seeing Adler sitting near the elevator. “Where are the Moshenkos, Joe?” he asked, looking around.

  Adler stood. “They’re still in the geedunk enjoying delicious hospital food, sir.” Before Torrinson could comment, Adler asked, “You been to see the captain?”

  “Right now, Joe, I can tell you he’s a man of few words,” Torrinson answered, giving Adler’s arm a slap.

  “So, he’s still out of it, sir?”

  “Oh, yeah. But you can go in and talk to him. Nurse said he’d come around a little at a time. Maybe he’ll recognize your voice.”

  “That may not be a good thing, sir,” Adler answered, forcing a smile.

  “Go ahead,” Torrinson said, as
he was pointing. “He’s down on the right, first door, second bed, left.” As Adler walked away, Torrinson called to him. “Joe. He really took some hits.” Adler nodded, sucked in a chestful of air, then walked down the passageway, slapping his cap against his leg. Torrinson decided to join the Moshenkos.

  Adler sat next to the bed, resting his arms on his thighs, as he leaned forward. He stared through the side rail at his friend, laying so still, so quiet, so beat up. He and Grant had often spoken about the likelihood of shit like this, or worse, happening.

  He thought how lucky he was in Sicily after being held hostage, and being rescued by his friend. But being prepared, and then having to face the fact were two entirely different matters. He was sure of one thing. He’d never forget leaving Grant behind, seeing him laying on the ground, surrounded by Russians and East Germans.

  Maybe Grant was right. Had they been pushing their luck far too long? Maybe it was time for them to have that talk. Was it time for them to “hang it up?”

  Fifteen minutes later he heard Grant trying to clear his throat. He stood up, leaning over the side rail. “Skipper, it’s me. It’s Joe.”

  Grant’s eyes were mere slits as he tried to shake off the anesthesia. “Joe?” He kept staring straight ahead. “Where are you?” His words were still slurring.

  Adler laughed. “Right here next to you. Come on. Follow my voice.”

  Grant turned his head extremely slowly. His eyes were having a hard time trying to keep up with the motion of his head.

  Adler finally came into view, albeit, somewhat out of focus. Grant squinted but it didn’t make Adler’s face any clearer. “Hey, Joe. What are you doing here?” His eyes closed again.

  Maybe the anesthesia was wearing off, but the pain meds were kickin’ in. “I’m visiting you. You’re in the hospital at Landstuhl, near Ramstein.”

  Adler’s words rolled around in his brain. He scrunched up his face. His face felt numb. And his tongue didn’t seem to be working right. Every word dragged as it came out of his mouth. “Hospital? Ramstein? What the hell...?” He rolled his head back to center. He was out again.

  Adler leaned over the side rail and said quietly, “Damn, skipper. Aspirins practically knock your ‘dick’ in the dirt. Maybe the doc needs to cut back some!” He braced, hearing somebody walking behind him.

  “So, lieutenant, you think I need to readjust the meds?”

  Shit! Adler looked slowly to his right as he stood up straight, seeing Doc Engleston standing there with somewhat of a grin. “Sorry, doc, but any kind of pain meds hit him like a brick. Besides, he has a huge aversion to any pills, probably ‘cause he heals pretty damn quick without them. He usually does his karate thing, you know, concentration.”

  “So, he’s into karate? Is that why he’s got those scars on his hands?”

  “Yes, sir, at least some of them. I think he’s a fifth degree black belt.”

  “Hmm,” Engleston softly said, putting a finger to his lips as a thought came to mind.

  “Something wrong, sir?”

  “Oh, no. I wondered why he didn’t have any internal bleeding or serious internal injuries to his organs from the pounding he took.”

  “You think it’s because of the karate?”

  “Well, it’s possible the captain kept his presence of mind and was able to contract those stomach muscles just enough to protect himself a good part of the time. I’m sure his captors probably made sure he was conscious when they beat him. How long was he in their hands?”

  Adler jammed his hands into his pockets, feeling a pang of guilt as he answered, “At least ten, twelve hours, doc.”

  Engleston shook his head slowly, folding his arms across his chest tightly. “No way to tell how long he could have kept it up during that amount of time.” He patted Adler’s arm as he said, “Well, in any case, don’t think the concentration will help him now. He needs the meds, believe me. It’s all part of the healing process. Don’t worry. I’ll have the nurses keep an eye on him. Okay?”

  “Uh, yes, sir.”

  Engleston stood at the foot of the bed, perusing the chart, making notations. He hung it on an S hook then clicked his pen and dropped it in his top pocket. As he started walking out, he held his arm out to the side, wagging a finger toward Grant. “Keep talking to him, lieutenant!”

  Adler sat down again. Twenty minutes later another nurse came to check the monitors, then she checked the chart. “Has he been awake?” she asked.

  “Yeah, about twenty minutes ago, but it was only for a minute.”

  She made a notation on the chart. “That’s okay. It happens that way.”

  Adler sat quietly by the bed, with his legs stretched out, his ankles crossed, trying not to picture leaving Grant behind.

  “Joe?” Moshenko called just above a whisper.

  He jumped up and waved Grigori and Alexandra into the room, motioning for them to go to the other side of the bed.

  Moshenko grabbed hold of the railing, his heart feeling an ache. Rubbing a hand lightly over Grant’s head, and being mindful of the bandages, he said, “Oh, my young friend. What they did to you. But you are safe now. You will be all right.”

  Grant struggled to open his eyes, blinking a couple of times. This time he turned right to where the voice came from, to Moshenko. He squinted. “Grigori? That you?” His voice was still gravely. His mouth felt like it was full of cotton.

  “Yes, my friend. And look who else is here.”

  Grant refocused, moving his eyes slightly, finally spotting Alexandra. She reached through the side rail and took his hand gently in hers. “Alexandra? What are you guys doing here?”

  Moshenko looked across at Adler with a raised eyebrow. “Pain meds,” Adler explained.

  Moshenko nodded with understanding. “Do you remember anything, Grant?”

  “Remember? Remember what?” Grant asked, beginning to feel confused...and really sleepy. He wanted to rub his face, but he couldn’t lift either arm.

  “Maybe you need to get more rest,” Moshenko said, patting Grant’s shoulder. “We will talk more later.”

  Grant heard something beeping. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the fuzzy image of monitors, then the wires leading down to his body. He looked above his shoulder, seeing IV bags. He pressed his head back into the pillow, trying to force his eyes to open wider. “What...happened?” He looked back at Adler. “Shit, Joe! What the hell happened?” The heart and pulse monitor started beeping faster.

  “You had a slight...accident. Look, skipper, just calm down, close your eyes and get some sleep. Everything will be clearer later.”

  There was brief silence. As Grant settled down, the meds started kicking in again. “Yeah. Okay. I am kinda tired anyway.” It didn’t take long. He was out.

  A nurse came into the room, hurrying to the bed. Adler stopped her. “He’s okay. Just got a little confused.”

  “I need to check the monitor and then change his bandages anyway. You folks will have to leave for a little while.”

  And so it went for the next several hours. Each time Grant woke, he remained awake a little longer, things got more clearer, and at the same time, things got more difficult to comprehend.

  Torrinson, Adler, and the Moshenkos took turns staying with him, talking, or just sitting, getting some comfort themselves just being with him.

  *

  Landstuhl Hospital

  Two Days Later

  Adler just walked into the ward, and hearing Grant moaning, he rushed over to the bed. “Skipper! Wake up!”

  Grant was agitated and sweating profusely. “Huh? Joe?”

  “Yeah. You having a dream?”

  “More like a nightmare.”

  Adler poured some fresh water into a clear plastic cup, and dropped in a straw. “Here. Drink some. Maybe I can get you a Coke later.” Grant swallowed a few sips. “Wanna tell me about it?” Adler asked, as he reached over and put the cup on the bedside table. He took a washcloth out of the drawer and dabbed the clo
th on Grant’s forehead, wiping away sweat.

  “You want the short or long version?” Grant asked.

  “Whatever you feel like telling me.”

  Grant closed his eyes, seeing everything again. “It starts out quiet. Wherever I am, I’m pretty sure I’m alone. I can’t hear anybody or anything. I start to think that the place is pitch black, no kind of light, until I realize I’m blindfolded. But I can’t figure out why I’m blindfolded. Even though I can’t see, I feel dizzy, disoriented.

  “I’m sitting on some kind of wooden chair. I think it might be handmade ‘cause it’s rough, uncomfortable. I try to move, but can’t. Then I realize my arms are behind my back. My wrists are tied. I struggle but can’t get loose. The rope’s too tight, and I feel it cutting into my wrists. I try to move my legs, but my ankles are tied to the chair, too.

  “There’s an odd yet familiar taste in my mouth, and it takes a minute before I recognize it as blood. Can’t figure out why there’s blood.

  “I hear a door open, then voices. Sounds like at least two men are walking behind me. They’re speaking Russian.” He opened his eyes and looked at Adler, commenting, “You’d think I’d know what they were saying, but I don’t.”

  Adler said, “It’s a dream, boss.”

  Grant gave a quick nod, then continued. “I get a whiff of sulphur, then start to smell smoke, like cigarette smoke. I hear footsteps scuffing by me. Then, somebody is standing in front of me. I know he’s leaning close to my face ‘cause I can hear him breathing, smell some kind of liquor on his breath, before he blows smoke in my face. Everything goes quiet, before I feel intense, sudden pain.

  “It’s the third time it’s happened, Joe, exactly the same way every time.” He tried to clear his brain, trying to put it back on track, trying to make sense out of everything.

  Adler debated about giving Grant the full story behind the dream, but finally reasoned it was better than making him drive himself crazy. “Skipper?” Grant looked at him with confusion in his eyes. “Let me tell you why you’re having this dream, what happened, why you’re here in the hospital. Is there anything you remember?” Grant shook his head.