For the Love of a Marine

by Sharon Kimbra Walsh

  “A…a what?” Wanda laughed out loud.

  “Apparently, a clusterfuck means a big problem,” Katie replied, grinning. She stood up and continued getting ready for work. “Oh well. It will give the camp something to chat over for a few days. That’s if they haven’t got anything better to do.”

  She waited for Wanda’s response, but instead looked up to find her friend standing beside her. Wanda spoke quietly and seriously. “Listen, Katie. You be careful. You remember what we talked about the other night? Don’t get serious about this guy, okay? Have fun. By all means, have lotsa fun, but don’t get serious. Now you listen to your momma.”

  Katie turned to her friend, a smile of appreciation on her face. “I get it, Momma. Your words have been noted. Now, you want to shut up and come to breakfast with me?”

  “Most definitely. You definitely need my protection. Let me get dressed and I’ll be with you in two.”

  “Meaning five or ten?” Katie quipped with resignation.

  Back from her shower and dressed, Wanda sang out, “Ready, girl?” as though Katie had been the one keeping her waiting. They both sauntered outside into the bright sunlight, putting on sunglasses and their caps. As the women exited the tent, they both stopped dead as the heat of the day hit them like a slap in the face.

  “Whew,” Katie exclaimed, “this heat sucks. I’ll never get used to it.” Her cap instantly felt like a constricting band encircling her head.

  “Let’s get a move on,” Wanda complained. “This sun is lethal.”

  The two women hurried to the mess, desperate to get out of the harsh sunlight and into the air-conditioned interior. Once inside, they removed their caps and sunglasses and stopped, relishing the cool air pouring down from the ceiling. As she had done every day since they had met, Katie glanced around looking for Joe, but couldn’t see him. She did, however, notice that behind the food counter stood a number of Army cooks in whites.

  “Oh crap!” On recognizing one of the cooks, Katie cursed aloud. Wanda heard the expletive and turned to see what had caused her friend to utter it.

  “Bloody Corporal David Hudson!” Katie offered as an explanation. “All I need to start my day off.”

  “Just ignore the jerk,” Wanda reasoned quietly. “You don’t owe him a thing.”

  “He thinks I do,” Katie rejoined, equally quietly.

  They joined the queue, picking up plastic trays and waiting their turn to choose their food. Katie chose some scrambled eggs on toast, intent on avoiding the food where Corporal Hudson was serving. Unfortunately, he saw her. That morning, however, he did not offer her his usual smile, only left his hot plate and moved toward where she was waiting to collect a glass of fresh orange juice.

  “Morning, Katie,” he greeted.

  “Hello, David,” Katie replied in as friendly a manner as possible.

  “Who was that you left with last night?” Corporal Hudson asked. Katie was taken aback at his tone, which contained a barely controlled anger and frustration.

  Angered, she snapped, “That is none of your business!”

  “We’ll see about that,” David Hudson exclaimed sharply and went back to his position behind the counter.

  Katie gazed after him in shock then glanced at Wanda, who was also looking after the retreating back, completely nonplussed with a little anxiety on her face.

  “What a jerkwad!” she exclaimed. “What’s rattled his cage?”

  “I think he’s going to be trouble,” Katie stated worriedly. “He’s completely got the wrong end of the stick.”

  “Yep,” answered Wanda, “but that’s his funeral. C’mon. Let’s go eat… If we can find a table.”

  Trying to shake off the uneasiness that the altercation with the cook had caused, Katie led the way, looking around for a free table at which to eat. They eventually found one and sat down. There was little time for conversation between the two friends as they consumed their meals quickly, Katie conscious of time ticking on. Having finished, they piled their plates and cups onto trays, rose from the table and went to the racks to deposit them onto one of the shelves. Once outside in the harsh sunlight again, Katie turned to Wanda.

  “Have a good day,” she said, slapping her friend on the arm. “See you later.”

  “Take care, you,” Wanda said, about-turned and strode off toward her place of work. Katie moved off in the opposite direction, and wincing at the heat, began to make her way at a brisk stride down the long, dusty road toward the CTH.

  The long walk to the CTH was particularly difficult that morning as the heat was scorching and oppressive. The whole sky was tinged with a yellow haze, the sun a blurred murky orb. The hot wind that gusted sporadically, created miniature sand and dust whirlwinds particles that stung Katie’s exposed skin. As she marched along, she found it difficult to draw in a breath, as though all oxygen had been leached from the air, and she had to grit her teeth so they acted as filters for the clouds of dust that hovered around her face.

  At the halfway mark, a light sweat broke out on Katie’s forehead and arms. Sand and dust stuck to her moist skin, managing to get down the front of her T-shirt, and the webbing strap holding her weapon, as light as it was, chafed at a sore patch along the strap of her bra. Attempting to ignore the increasing discomfort, she stepped up her pace and then heard the harsh blare of a vehicle horn behind her.

  Glancing back over her shoulder, she saw a camouflaged, open-topped Land Rover pull over to the side of the road and was relieved to see Sergeant Webster gesture for her to get into the vehicle. Katie hurried toward him and obligingly climbed in.

  “You’re an angel, Sergeant,” she quipped. “I’m so glad you came along. I was about ready to melt.”

  “No problem,” Ron Webster replied. “An angel I’m not, but glad to be of service.”

  Walking along the opposite side of the road toward the mess with some members of his squad, Joe Anderson saw Katie getting into the Land Rover. She didn’t return his gaze or wave so he knew that she hadn’t seen him. He watched as she tilted her head back and laughed at something the male driver said to her, and Joe continued observing her as she rested one booted foot on the dashboard, steadying herself as the speed of the vehicle increased on the uneven, dry road. Even with the cap on her head and sunglasses shielding her beautiful eyes, he still admired the vitality and exuberance that was evident in her actions and the way her mouth curved into her special, brilliant smile.

  Joe had woken up that morning with his head teeming with images of the night before, and he knew that kissing Katie had sent his feelings over the edge. She aroused him sexually like no other woman had done before and it was a new experience for him to feel as horny as the proverbial schoolboy. He had become fully aware of the fact that his concentration on his duties was becoming a lost cause and this was not good for either himself or his men. Try as he might, he could not rid himself of the tantalizing imagery of Katie’s green eyes or the feel of her soft mouth under his. He had a vague idea that for the first time in his life, he had fallen in love.

  In five minutes, Katie and her companion arrived at the sprawling CTH.

  “Here we go,” Sergeant Webster exclaimed. They jumped out of the vehicle and went into the air-conditioned comfort of the medical facility.

  Katie put her cap into her locker, and with a little time to spare before reporting for duty, she hurried along to Ward One to see Private Berwick, who still remained a patient within the CTH. Entering the ward, Katie went straight to the first bed. Private Berwick was lying with his eyes closed, but on hearing movement he opened them, and his face lit up at the sight of her.

  “Morning, Jeff,” Katie greeted. “How are you doing today?”

  “Morning, Katie. I’m doing okay,” the young private replied.

  Katie picked up the chart attached to the end of the hospital bed and quickly glanced through it. The young British soldier remained on two intravenous drips, one that fed a number of antibiotics into his arm and another that held
a saline solution to keep his body hydrated. She noted in the chart that his temperature had been elevated since the night before and that he had complained of pain in the stump of his leg.

  Setting the metal clipboard holding the chart back in its position, Katie walked to his side, and mindful of his injury, gently sat on the edge of the bed. “How’s your pain, Jeff?” she asked.

  “Not too bad now that I’ve been allowed to pop some pills,” Jeff answered. “It was a little bad during the night and they say that I have a bit of a fever but things are fine now.”

  Katie’s heart ached for the young man. Two weeks in-country and he was now significantly maimed. Sure, there were artificial aids and prosthetic limbs that he would be offered back in the UK, but his young life would be altered forever and he would need much rehabilitation back home once they had him stabilized enough for him to be flown back to his family. But he was young and strong and the one good thing about his situation was that he would be going home.

  “That’s good, Jeff. I’m glad things are improving.” She stood up. “I have to get on now, but I’ll come back and see you later. You take care.”

  “Katie,” Private Berwick began.

  Katie turned her attention back to the patient, a questioning look on her face.

  A smile flitted across the young private’s face. “Scuttlebutt tells me you and a staff sergeant have a thing going,” he announced.

  Katie blushed instantly and was momentarily horrified that the news had gotten around the camp so quickly. But she should have guessed. Composing herself, she laughed, “Well, that didn’t take long to get out, did it? How did you get to find out?”

  “Some of the guys from my unit came to see me,” Private Berwick answered. “I know the staff sergeant and he’s a great guy, Katie, and a lucky man.”

  “That’s sweet of you to say,” Katie responded softly. “And thank you.” She waited for the young man to acknowledge her statement, and with a last smile at him and another smile directed at Joe’s US marine in the next bed, she left the ward. She made her way back to her locker, and after opening it, retrieved a fresh set of green scrubs, floral hair cover, blue bootees and dingy canvas shoes. She took the bundle to the toilet, let herself in, locked the door behind her and changed.

  Katie made her way to the briefing room where a large white board was regularly updated with patient’s details and their medical statuses. There were already two trauma nurses present, Sergeant Webster, an anesthetist, a surgeon and a CTM. Eight casualties and Private Berwick were the only patients remaining in the CTH. All patients had been released from the CCU and were now in Ward Two, doing well. Katie was pleased to hear that Private Berwick was also doing well—improving slowly physically and appearing mentally to be adapting to the loss of his limb. However, time would tell if his positive mental attitude would continue to improve or if he would suffer a relapse. He would continue on the antibiotics for a further week, dressings changed once a day, painkillers on request and a saline drip to keep him hydrated. He would be going home once he was off the antibiotics.

  Sergeant Webster then stood up to continue the briefing. “There is a patrol going out tonight so there may be casualties. Before we all go off duty, I want every item of equipment checked and double-checked. We have to prepare for a worst-case scenario. Well, that’s all folks. Let’s get on with the day.”

  Katie left the briefing room to attend to the patients arriving for sick parade then went in to one of the two empty theaters. At the moment, the CTH was quiet. Stainless steel equipment shone and was in position, ready for use, white walls gleamed in the harsh overhead lights and instruments that would be required in the event of an incident were arrayed in neat regimental rows on spotless trolleys and tables. She went quietly about her usual duties of checking the instrument trays, making sure that the surgeons had swabs and scalpels and inspecting the retractors and amputation tools to make sure that they were clean and in order.

  She went along to Theater Two to find a British and US surgeon playing a board game, the board itself set out on the operating table with counters strewn across it. They both looked up as she came in. “Care to join us?” Major Burns asked, raising his head to glance in Katie’s direction.

  “I don’t have a clue what you’re playing, sir, so I’ll decline and leave you to it,” Katie replied, smiling. She quickly went about her duties of checking the equipment and instruments, then left to make her way to the R&R room.

  Katie collected a plastic cup, one of many stacked haphazardly on a shelf above the coffee machine, and poured herself a cup of coffee. It smelled strong and bitter but she retrieved some milk from the fridge and diluted it to her taste before finding the most comfortable chair in the room and sitting down. Glancing at her watch then the clunking clock on the wall, she noted that it was already 1000 hours. Fifteen minutes’ downtime and she would visit Private Berwick again, check his observations then check in with Sergeant Webster to see what other duties he had in store for her. As of now, she needed to relax.

  Leaning back against the sagging cushions, she closed her eyes. Joe’s image popped into her mind and she sighed gently. What is he doing at this moment? Is he thinking of me as I’m thinking of him? Does he feel the same way about me as I do him? Those questions would probably never be answered because, time in this case, was not conducive to sorting out a relationship, to letting feelings resolve themselves into something long-term. Katie’s feelings for Joe however, were deep and true, regardless of how quickly they had developed.

  Katie opened her eyes, blinked and sipped at the hot coffee, cringing at the underlying bitterness. At least it would keep her energized and awake. There was nothing like a good burst of caffeine to put things into perspective.

  A few minutes later, Katie finished the last of her coffee, threw the cup into a waste bin and left the R&R room. As she walked quickly along the empty corridor, a strident alarm sounded throughout the CTH. Instantly, adrenaline spilled through her veins, her senses switched to high alert and she ran for the briefing room. She could hear pounding feet behind and in front of her as the medical staff hurried to find out what was about to shatter the false peace of the CTH. On reaching the briefing room, Katie went inside.

  “Okay, people. Two injured being medevacked in. Info is that one has a gunshot wound in the arm, the other has a shrapnel wound or wounds in the legs. Let’s go.”

  The quiet, relaxed atmosphere quickly vanished and the teams instantly became alert. Katie quickly donned a clean scrub smock then she and a fellow CTM grabbed a gurney each and wheeled them outside the front doors of the building, ready for the incoming casualties.

  Both teams heard the siren of an approaching Army ambulance, and within a few minutes, it had pulled up beneath the canopy in front of the doors of the CTH. The back doors opened forcefully and two US Army corpsmen in full combat clothing appeared at the doors. Both the driver and his passenger also leaped from the front of the vehicle and ran around to the rear. Lifted out of the back of the ambulance on stretchers and placed on the waiting gurneys, the two corpsmen traveling in the back held intravenous IVs in the air. As Katie was one of only two CTMs on duty, she took over the role of CTM to one of the trauma teams who, allocated the gunshot wound, rushed the gurney through to Trauma Room One.

  After delivering her patient to the waiting trauma team, Katie, armed with a clipboard to which was attached a form, took down the patient’s details by glancing quickly at the soldier’s dog tags. The injured man was moaning and awake so she quickly went to his head, bent down, and speaking loudly but gently and clearly asked him for some further personal details. Gasping with pain and distress, the soldier attempted to give Katie the answers she required.

  The wounded soldier smelled bad. He had obviously been out in the field for quite some time. His face was grimy with a chin covered in stubble where he hadn’t shaved in days and his MTPCs were covered in dust and blood. His upper torso was drenched with the bright red liquid.


  Working as a well-organized team, one member lifted the soldier’s chin to open his airway to enable a high flow of oxygen to be given via a face mask. His breathing was assessed as being normal albeit rapid and shallow with pain, so the team went on to make an assessment as to his general state. Considerable bleeding had occurred, but as the soldier was young and fit, this did not pose a significant problem. Katie managed to obtain good intravenous access with two large bore IV cannula, a necessity in case of delayed tachycardia and hypotension due to shock and blood loss. The leading trauma surgeon performed a rapid assessment of the young soldier’s neurological status and a trauma nurse began to quickly remove the grimed combat clothing so that the entire body of the young man could be examined for exit and entry wounds. Katie fastened a blood pressure cuff around the uninjured left arm and noted that the blood pressure, although a little low, was within normal parameters.

  “I have a BP of systolic sixty-five mmHg,” she reported calmly and proceeded to monitor other vital signs such as blood gases, CXR and ECG output. Once the uniform was, Katie gently and carefully began to wash away dried blood and dirt from around the wound and from the soldier’s torso and face. A second trauma nurse hurried into the room with six units of crossmatched blood and Katie promptly hung the bags from IV stands and connected them to the cannula. A portable X-ray machine was then wheeled into position over the soldier’s body and X-rays taken above, below and directly over the wound. The surgeon studied the X-rays and beamed confidently.

  “No bullet in situ. It’s clean. Let’s get him to theater, seal him up, put him on intravenous antibiotics and give him a tetanus shot. He’s going to be fine.”

  Having done her part on the trauma team, Katie stepped back and watched as the young soldier was wheeled quickly from Trauma Room One and into theater where a surgical team waited to commence the surgical procedure.