A Fallen Hero

by Sharon Kimbra Walsh

  Pulling a sleeping pad from her rucksack, she spread it out on the hard ground. Taking off her helmet, she dragged her pack to where she could use it to rest her head then she put on her sunglasses and finally took a long drink of water. She glanced around the courtyard, searching for Joe.

  Some of the men were staring at her with what she could only interpret as interest—much as any man would stare at a woman—and she felt uncomfortable. This was turning out to be a little more difficult than she had anticipated as she was obviously getting attention from the men.

  She saw Dan Reed seated on the ground beneath a shaded lean-to at the opposite end of the compound talking to Joe, Sergeant Eastman and two other marines. They were studying maps and making notes, Joe occasionally talking into the handset of a portable radio. Dan raised a hand when he noticed Katie watching and she nodded in response.

  Having drunk her fill and feeling exhausted, she made sure her weapon and helmet were within reach so that she could grab them quickly and she laid down.

  It was so good to relax. Even though the temperature had risen some degrees and the ground beneath her sleeping pad was hard, she was so tired that these small issues were trivial in comparison to how exhausted and drained she felt. Turning on her side, she watched Joe until eventually, before a few minutes had passed, her eyes grew heavy and she drifted into a much-needed sleep.

  * * * *

  Only a brief time later, someone shook Katie’s shoulder and called her name. She moaned in response and opened eyes that felt dry and full of grit. She was disoriented at first because someone had erected a lean-to over her after she’d fallen asleep and now she was lying in shade. Outside the canopy, it was broad daylight, the sun glaring in its intensity.

  She saw Corporal Reed crouched beside her. Groggily, she sat up.

  “What’s the problem?” she asked, rubbing at her eyes, feeling sweat dampening her face and her T-shirt clinging to her upper torso. She grimaced and would have given anything to be able to have a long, cool shower.

  “My buddy is sick,” Dan Reed announced, rising to his feet. “You need to come and take a look at him.”

  “Okay,” Katie replied, now wide-awake. She crawled out from beneath the lean-to and scrambled to her feet. “Lead me to him. What’s wrong?”

  Remembering the order from Joe to wear her helmet, she grabbed it, put it on then picked up her pack and weapon, slinging one over each shoulder. Together, she and Dan walked hurriedly away from her lean-to.

  “What’s wrong with him?” she asked again.

  Dan tipped his helmet back. “He developed a pain in his gut about an hour ago and started throwing up. The pain has gotten worse and now he’s real sick.”

  Katie glanced at her companion, concerned. “Does he have a fever?” she asked.

  “I don’t know, Corporal. I haven’t asked him.”

  “Okay, I’ll check him over,” Katie said, keeping anxious thoughts about what might be wrong with the marine to herself.

  Corporal Reed led her across the compound toward a lean-to where a young man was lying down. As Katie drew close, she saw him tossing his head from side-to-side and heard him moaning softly. His hand was lying protectively across his stomach.

  Katie ducked beneath the makeshift canopy and knelt down beside the marine. Turning to Corporal Reed, she asked, “What’s his name?”

  “Lance Corporal Bob Harris,” he answered.

  Turning back to the sick man, Katie placed a hand on his shoulder and gently shook it.

  “Bob. Bob, can you hear me? Can you open your eyes for me?”

  Lance Corporal Bob Harris groaned again but obeyed. His eyes were glazed and full of pain, his face glistening with sweat and very white.

  She placed the back of her wrist on his forehead, noting he was extremely hot, then she picked up the hand that wasn’t lying on his stomach, felt his pulse and discovered it was fast and slightly shallow.

  She didn’t like where this was going at all.

  “Bob, I’m sorry but I need to ask you a couple of questions. Try to answer them for me. Have you been vomiting?”

  The lance corporal nodded, “Yes,” he replied, his voice sounding hoarse.

  “Did the pain start in the middle of your stomach and move to the right low down?” Katie asked.

  The lance corporal nodded again and Katie’s concern increased. She was almost positive that the marine had appendicitis and she had nothing in her medical equipment to treat it. She turned to Corporal Reed.

  “I’m sure it’s appendicitis,” she said. “I need to speak to the Staff Sergeant and radio the base. I want you to sit beside him and keep him company. Talk to him and try to keep him awake.”

  She crawled outside the lean-to and Corporal Reed took her place. Katie searched the compound for Joe and eventually found him in the exact same place she had seen him before. She began to jog toward him, ignoring the slow whistles from some of the men as they watched her as she passed.

  Joe watched her approach and as she reached him, he frowned. “What’s the problem, Corporal?” he asked.

  “I need to talk to you, Staff Sergeant,” Katie answered, her tone cool. “It’s an emergency.”

  “Sure,” Joe agreed, setting down his map and getting to his feet. He gestured for them to move a short distance away from the others. Turning to her he asked, “What’s up?”

  Keeping her voice low, Katie explained, “I believe Lance Corporal Harris has acute appendicitis. I need to radio the base to get some advice on what to give him to relieve the pain and we’ll need to order up a medevac.”

  “I see,” Joe said. “You’re sure it’s appendicitis?”

  Katie nodded. “He has all the symptoms, and they’re typical of acute onset,” she replied. “It could be dangerous if we don’t move quickly on this.”

  Joe nodded, “Okay. Let’s get you through to the base. You can use the radio.”

  He went back to the main transmitter, took the handset from one of the marines and spoke into it, announcing the base call sign. He listened then handed it to Katie.

  “You’re through to the CTH, Sergeant Webster.”

  Katie glanced at him and saw the warning look in his eyes. She nodded slightly, accepting that she had to be careful about what she said, pressed the button on the side of the handset and spoke, “Sergeant Webster?” then released the button.

  “Corporal Walker, is that you?” the sergeant asked, using her maiden name which Katie did not correct, wanting to avoid any complicated questions that might arise. Even though the sergeant was probably extremely curious as to why she was back in Afghanistan with a US marine squad, it was not evident in his tone.

  “Yes, Sergeant,” Katie replied, hurriedly. “I need some urgent advice from one of the surgeons. Is anyone around?”

  Sergeant Webster’s voice was business-like when he replied. “Good to hear your voice again, Corporal Walker. Wait one and I’ll get Major Macintyre.”

  Katie waited impatiently, glancing over her shoulder to where the sick man was lying under the lean-to. A few minutes later, a Scottish voice spoke from the receiver.

  “Corporal Walker. How are you? Couldn’t stay away from us then?” it asked.

  “Fine thank you, sir,” Katie replied, feeling slightly impatient. “Sir, I have an emergency here. I believe a young marine has appendicitis. I need some advice on what to give him and we need a medevac out here.”

  “Right-o,” the officer said, his tone brisk. “What are the symptoms?”

  Katie quickly listed the symptoms and waited for confirmation of the diagnosis.

  “Good call, Corporal,” Major Macintyre finally said. “But you canna give the wee laddie anything for the pain, I’m afraid, until we assess him here at the CTH. While I think your diagnosis is perfectly correct, it could be other conditions as well. You can only make him as comfortable as possible. No liquids, but try to keep his temperature down. I’ll order up a medevac and get it out to you as soon as possibl
e. Pass me back to Staff Sergeant Anderson and I’ll get the necessary co-ordinates from him.”

  Katie turned to Joe and handed him the handset. “Major Macintyre wants to speak to you. I need to get back to my patient.”

  Joe took the handset and Katie hurried back to the young marine. There was a small crowd gathering and Corporal Reed joined her outside the lean-to.

  “How is he?” Katie asked, stooping slightly to see into the shelter.

  Corporal Reed tipped his helmet back on his head and wiped the sweat from his face.

  “He’s in a lot of pain,” he answered. “Can’t you give him something, ma’am?”

  Katie shook her head. The sun beating down onto the back of her neck had started to make her feel slightly dizzy.

  “I can’t,” she answered. “He’s not allowed to have anything, including water. It will make him vomit. Any painkiller will simply depress his central nervous system. A medevac will be here soon.”

  She crouched down, moved awkwardly beneath the canopy and studied the young marine. His pallor was marked and sweat beaded his forehead, trickling down the sides of his face to soak the sleeping pad. Katie placed the back of her wrist on his skin and winced at the heat of fever coming from his body.

  “Corporal Reed,” she called and Dan Reed crouched down to peer in at her. “Can you ask the Staff Sergeant if he could come over here?”

  Corporal Reed nodded and rose to his feet. Katie opened up her pack and removed a sealed combat casualty blanket, ripping open the plastic packaging with her teeth, shaking it out and spreading it over the patient. She then took out a bottle of water and a square of gauze. Turning back to her patient, she shook him gently.

  “Bob? Bob, can you hear me?”

  Lance Corporal Harris’ eyelids fluttered and he moaned but remained unresponsive. Katie put her hand beneath the blanket and placed two fingers on his limp wrist to check his pulse. It was still fast and fainter than before. Katie tried to quell her rising anxiety.

  She saw a pair of dusty boots and combat-clad legs appear then Joe crouched down. Without acknowledging his presence, preoccupied with attending to the sick man, Katie opened the water bottle, poured some of the liquid onto the gauze and gently wiped the sweat from the lance corporal’s face. Once she had finished, she looked at Joe.

  “How are you doing?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

  Katie wiped the perspiration from her forehead. “I’m all right,” she answered, suddenly wishing that he would take her in his arms.

  Joe gazed at her then cleared his throat. “How’s he doing? Problem?” he asked.

  “Yes. His condition is deteriorating rapidly,” Katie responded. “He’s unresponsive and we need that medevac as soon as possible.”

  “It’ll be here in about ten minutes. I’ve sent some men outside to lay down some smoke and escort the CTT here. It won’t be long. Hang in there.”

  Katie nodded and turned back to her patient. Pouring more liquid onto the gauze, she bathed the lance corporal’s face again.

  “I have to get back,” Joe continued and Katie barely acknowledged him.

  Joe rose to his feet, straightened then ducked down again. “The medevac is almost here. They made better time than I thought they would,” he announced.

  Katie, hearing the distant sound of a helicopter, knew the combat trauma flight—CTF—was close.

  “Good,” she replied, feeling a surge of relief that help was almost with them.

  Joe hurried away and Katie turned back to the young marine, noting he was completely comatose now. She could hear the approaching helicopter’s engines getting louder until, as it reached almost overhead, the noise became deafening. It then moved away a short distance and she heard the noise from the rotor blades change pitch as it came in to land. She crawled out from beneath the lean-to to wait for the combat trauma team—CTT—to arrive.

  A short time later, three members of the medical team appeared, jogging through a ragged hole in the courtyard wall, carrying a stretcher and an Emergency Medical Carrier—EMC—and accompanied by two marines. The group approached the lean-to where Katie was standing.

  She briefly explained the symptoms to the CTT doctor then stood back to allow them access to the sick lance corporal. She had done her bit for him and could do no more.

  Waiting patiently while the CTT tended to their casualty, checking his vital signs and stabilizing him, Katie wanted desperately to go to Joe but had to stand and watch—with some relief—as they lifted her patient gently onto a stretcher. The patient couldn’t have been an easy weight to carry but two of the CTT each took an end of the stretcher and, with the assistance of the two marine escorts, moved off, heading back to the Chinook helicopter.

  Katie watched the group disappear out of sight and wiped a hand across her damp face. She was perspiring heavily and the flies were driving her mad. The courtyard walls reflected the sun blindingly, the rays bouncing off them with searing brightness. She was desperate for sleep and, grabbing her equipment, she started back toward the lean-to and her sleeping pad.

  Chapter Eight

  “Corporal Anderson.”

  Joe’s voice sounded from behind her, and with a sinking feeling that sleep was drifting farther and farther out of reach, Katie stopped in her tracks and turned to face her husband.

  Despite her tiredness and the almost stupefying heat, she couldn’t help but feel warmth flood her body at the sight of him. Clad in combat trousers and T-shirt, body armor and dusty combat boots and helmet, he was the epitome of a strong, tough marine. Even the stubble on his jaw line and the scar on his face added an element of danger to his persona and Katie felt angry with herself for the strong surge of emotions that he always seemed to trigger in her.

  She had an idea that no matter what situation they both found themselves in—even if it was hostile—his closeness would always stir up unwanted images of making love with him.

  She longed to run into his arms, have them close around her and hold her tight, have his mouth come down on hers, feel the sexual frisson that never failed to burn between them. She loved him so much.

  Now she faced him, trying hard to quench the longing she had for him and the wish to regain what they’d had.

  “Yes, Staff Sergeant,” she said, forcing a coldness into her tone.

  Joe saw the look of longing on his wife’s face and understood what she was feeling. Katie always wore her heart on her sleeve, try as she might to hide it, and her brilliant green eyes were expressive and showed every emotion.

  He also saw the conflicting emotions of pain and grief that he was causing her and he shifted uncomfortably, wanting to take her in his arms but fully aware that an Afghanistan compound was not the time or the place and that until the situation was resolved between them, there might never be another.

  He cleared his throat. “Corporal, I need to show you around the perimeter, give you a clear idea of where the men are positioned in case anyone is injured in an attack. It will save you time and energy searching for them.”

  Katie nodded, “Fine, Staff Sergeant, just let me put my gear down.”

  Joe nodded, watching her as she continued to make her way to the lean-to. He had heard the appreciative whistles and ribald remarks made by his men as she had jogged across the courtyard to tell him of his sick man and while he knew that it was ‘men being men’, the jealousy ate away at his insides, made stronger by the fact that he was unable to put them all straight on the fact that she was his and it was ‘look but not touch’—and maybe not even look.

  When Katie rejoined him, he led the way across the courtyard to the jagged, debris-strewn hole in the wall where it appeared as though an explosion had occurred, demolishing part of it.

  They moved through the gap out onto the wide, uneven path that encircled the entire compound, a no-man’s land separating the wall of the courtyard from the perimeter. Joe calmly and quietly explained, as he would have done to any new member of his squad, the
positions of his men and in what direction the enemy could possibly come from.

  They’d walked for about ten minutes when Joe suddenly stopped at a heavy wooden door set in the inner wall and turned to her.

  Katie glanced at him, her eyebrows raised questioningly.

  “I want to show you one of the rooms that the Taliban used for hiding weapons and explosive caches,” he explained, responding to her silent query. “The room has already been searched and any evidence taken away.”

  Finishing the brief explanation, he pushed on the door and, with some effort, managed to open it a meter or so before it wedged into the dry earth. Without a further word, he slid his way through the narrow opening and beckoned Katie to follow him.

  Once inside the white-walled room with its dry mud and sand floor, sunlight filtering in through two glassless windows looking on to the inner courtyard, Joe dropped the veneer of a staff sergeant carrying out one of his responsibilities and turned to face Katie.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  Katie shrugged. “I’m okay I suppose,” she replied.

  Joe could detect no emotion in her voice and he stood in silence for a minute or two staring at her, trying to gauge her mood and feeling uneasy at the way she was looking at him. Suddenly feeling a surge of impatience, he took two paces toward her.

  “Katie…” he began.

  He stopped dead in his tracks as Katie held up a hand, palm outward in a warding off gesture.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Joe?” she asked.

  She was still staring at him, her green gaze holding a sharp and evaluating expression.

  At her question, Joe instantly felt the increasingly familiar flare of irritation begin to churn in his stomach and behind that a faint feeling of panic.

  Don’t do this, Katie, he thought. Don’t push me. Leave things alone. You don’t want to go there.

  He felt the muscles in his body tense. “What do you mean?” he asked and cringed when he detected the ice-cold tones of his voice.