Chapter Twenty-Two
Katie opened her eyes. For considerable time her mind remained mercifully blank, then gradually she became aware that she was lying face down on cold, hard ground and her head hurt badly. A flickering golden-red light surrounded her and she had no idea where it was coming from. Her mind had stopped functioning and she couldn’t remember anything. Something had happened, something bad. She had been… Then everything came flooding back to her and she whimpered.
The helicopter had been hit by some kind of missile and had crashed. Somehow, she was flung from the Chinook after they had hit, and although she had obviously hit her head and was feeling the impact from the ground, she was alive.
The side of her face stung where it rested on the hard earth and she felt bruised all over. Slowly and carefully, she moved each limb, assessing each for any broken bones. It appeared that nothing was broken, but she was bruised and going to ache like the devil in a few hours.
The only thing she was sure of was that her head was pounding severely and she felt sick to her stomach. The cold ground was leaching the warmth from her body and she was beginning to shiver. Inch by inch, she attempted to sit up. At each tentative movement, her head protested, but she persevered until she was in a kneeling position. Once upright, she immediately vomited and instantly diagnosed herself with a concussion—or worse—a skull fracture. She rested for a while with her eyes closed, biting her lip hard, as though another source of pain would force back the much more severe pain in her head.
Gritting her teeth, Katie shrugged out of her medical bergen. Somehow, it had remained on her back, even with one strap broken. She opened up various pockets, searching for basic first-aid supplies, her torch, and a bottle of sterile water. She found all the items she needed and laid them on the ground around her. The flickering golden light and her torch beam allowed her to see reasonably well and she opened up some gauze, unscrewed the top of a bottle of water, and upended it carefully so that some of the liquid trickled out slowly to wet the gauze. She lifted a hand to her head and by feel alone, she discovered a large, painful lump and gash just above her left temple. Hissing through her teeth, she dabbed at the wound gently. She could feel a trail of stickiness coated with sand and dust down the left side of her face and knew that it was probably blood. By touch alone, she located the approximate area of the wound and the blood trail down her face and attempted to clean it, but it was a futile task.
Once she had finished, she repacked everything into her bergen, then spent a precious few minutes locating her combat helmet, which had rolled a few feet away from her position, and her rifle that, because it was black in color and blended with the night, was harder to locate. Once she had retrieved all her equipment, she sat back down on the ground. She felt sick again and light–headed, and she bowed her head between her knees until the feelings passed. She knew she needed to get to her feet and get to the helicopter. The others might be injured and need her help.
She could hear nothing in the area, not a single voice or movement. There was a crackling from somewhere close by and even more distant, there were sharp repetitive cracking sounds that she recognized as gunfire. Sound traveled long distances in the silent desert and she had no idea how far away the gunfire was but knew that she was possibly in big trouble. There was obviously a firefight going off somewhere, not close by, but close enough that if the hostiles decided to come in her direction, she was on her own and she couldn’t hope to defend herself.
The pain in her head had retreated a little. As long as she didn’t move quickly, it stayed that way, and she finally felt able to get to her feet, although she discovered that she had to use her weapon as leverage by digging the butt of it into the ground and leaning on it to be able to gain her feet.
Once upright, her head pounded another rebellious protest and she groaned quietly, putting a hand up to her forehead as though to relieve the pain. Determined not to give in to her injury, she turned slowly in a circle, surveying her location. It was then she discovered the source of the light and was horrified.
The helicopter was in flames. It had skidded and rolled some distance away from her, coming to rest in a twisted tangle of metal against an outcropping of rock. The highly flammable fuel had obviously exploded and caught fire and it was now a burning beacon for all the hostiles in the area and farther afield to see. Katie knew that she needed to find the others, if they were still alive. They would then need to find somewhere to hide until rescue came, which it surely would, as the co-pilot had sent a mayday before the crash.
Hobbling on bruised and sore legs, she began to limp her way toward the burning pyre. She had come to within fifty meters of it when, by the leaping light of the flames, she saw a body lying on the ground. Hurriedly, she moved toward it and dropped to her knees.
It was the Sergeant who had ordered her to move to the open door before they crashed. Katie quickly put two fingers against his carotid artery and, holding her breath, waited to feel the steady throb of a pulse. There was none. Whimpering, she frantically ripped open his body armor, his jacket and raised his T-shirt, and proceeded to commence CPR. Her head throbbed and pounded at the repetitive movement, but she continued the life-saving technique for ten minutes with no response from the sergeant. Finally realizing that he was dead, Katie sat back on her heels, gasping. Tears began to trickle down her cheeks and she felt as though she could curl up on the ground and cry herself into oblivion.
She was so tired, so weary of all the death and destruction, and now here was this dead man, someone who had done nothing to deserve dying out in a lonely desert when all he had ever done was try to save lives. A sob escaped her, and she put a hand across her mouth to prevent any more escaping. The sob had sounded so lonely and pathetic that it frightened her.
She could not allow herself the luxury of breaking down just yet. She desperately needed to find out if any of the others were still alive. In pain, she laboriously clambered to her feet and proceeded to circle the burning helicopter, glancing around the area for signs that there were others that might be alive. There were no other bodies and she could see no other survivors.
Having circled the burning Chinook, Katie came to a standstill. She was done. Her senses were numb and she was glad of the feeling. But it felt like there was a ten-ton weight on her shoulders and in the pit of her stomach was a ball of unreleased grief that she would have to attend to eventually. But for now, she had to get a grip, maintain an iron-hard control, and piece together a plan from her scattered thoughts. It was becoming obvious that everyone else aboard the helicopter was inside when it exploded and caught fire. The sergeant had obviously been flung out onto the ground as she herself had been, but she was the only lucky one to have lived.
Now, she was alone, out in the desert, and a sudden fear assailed her. She had to find somewhere safe to hide until rescue arrived. She didn’t know how long that would be or in what form it would arrive. She listened carefully to see if she could roughly pinpoint how distant the firefight was. The gunfire had drawn closer and now she could decipher the thudding percussions of heavy weapons.
Katie glanced back at the dead body of the sergeant. She had to move the body and hide it in case any enemy happened to appear to check out the burning helicopter. She shrugged off her bergen, dropping it to the ground, and retraced her steps back to where he lay. Hoping that she had the energy to carry it out, she grasped the man under his arms and slowly and with a great deal of effort, began to drag him along the ground toward a small, uneven outcropping of rock that threw its own shadow deep enough to hide both the body and herself. She would lay him there and she would stay by him. The darkness would hide them both, but the burning helicopter would provide some warmth and light. It would also be where any rescue would arrive because it would be their last known coordinates.
Katie laid the sergeant gently in the shadows then stood still for a minute, waiting for the sick pounding in her head to die down and the sudden dizziness to abate. Once th
e pain had diminished, she tiredly went back for her bergen. Arriving back by the rock, she sank down onto the hard ground and rested against it. She was shivering now, and a clammy sweat had broken out on her forehead. She wanted to sleep but the medical part of her mind knew that with a head injury, you did not sleep. She could feel fresh blood coating her face and she felt very thirsty and sick. Sliding farther down the rock into a half reclining position, she placed her bergen under her head, propped her helmet up so it partly shielded her head—she couldn’t put it on because it hurt too much—turned on her right side and curled up into a ball, clutching her rifle with both hands. She thought of Joe and wished that he was there with her. She wanted to feel his arms around her and to hear him say that everything would be all right. The wanting was so strong that it was like a physical pain. “Be safe, Joe,” she murmured. “But please come and get me.”
Her thoughts became jumbled, and even though she struggled to keep them open, her eyelids began to flutter closed. Finally, against her better judgment, drowsiness overcame her and she slipped into sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Ma’am, ma’am. Can you wake up for me, ma’am?”
From somewhere in the depths of a deep, dark sleep, Katie heard a faint, persistent voice calling her name. She tried to ignore it, determined not to open her eyes and answer the call, fighting against drifting up through black layers of sleep to the world of reality.
She then felt gentle tapping on her exposed cheek and finally realized that the person calling her name was not going to go away. Katie groaned and attempted to push away the irritating hand. “Leave me alone,” she moaned her words slurred and hoarse.
“’Fraid I can’t do that, ma’am,” came the voice again. “Come on. Open your eyes.”
Katie sighed with exasperation and her eyelids fluttered half open. They felt gritty and dry with dust and her mouth and lips felt devoid of moisture, her tongue swollen. She licked her lips and tried to force her eyes open wider. Her vision remained blurred for a few minutes then it cleared and she was able to see her surroundings. She was no longer alone. There were soldiers walking about the area, obviously searching for either the enemy or the occupants of the burning helicopter. Katie blinked a few times then rolled onto her back. She groaned, her body stiff and cold and sore. She immediately saw that a soldier was leaning over her.
“Who’re you?” she mumbled, lifting her head so that she could focus on him more clearly. She instantly scrunched up her eyes as a dagger-like pain shot through her skull.
“Bugger,” she exclaimed, “that hurts.”
“I’m a medic, ma’am. US Marines,” the marine answered. “I need to assess your injuries. Ask you a few questions.”
“I know what’s wrong with me,” Katie responded snappishly, feeling very combative. “I have a concussion with accompanying wound, dizziness, my pulse feels a little fast, and I am probably dehydrated because of vomiting. Does that answer your questions?”
The medic looked a little taken aback. “Very good,” he commented. “I take it you’re a medic yourself then?”
Refraining from nodding her head because of the pain that might result, Katie swallowed and cleared her throat. “CTM,” she replied shortly—and shivered.
“Did you lose consciousness?” the medic asked.
“Yes,” Katie answered, “but I don’t know for how long.”
“Okay,” the medic continued. “I’m going to need to clean your wound and put a dressing on it. You’re covered in dust and you may get an infection.” He opened a medical bergen beside him and began to pull out gauze, cotton wool and a bottle of antibacterial wash. He also pulled out a silver hypothermia blanket and slung it around her shoulders, pulling it together around her.
“This might sting a bit,” he announced, soaking some cotton wool in the antibacterial solution. He dabbed gently at the gash on Katie’s temple, eliciting a sharp hiss from her as the liquid stung the wound ferociously.
The cleansing went on for a while with Katie gritting her teeth and unshed tears springing into her eyes, but she refused to make a sound. The medic then went on to clean the dried blood from the side of her face.
“Nice graze you’ve got there,” the medic commented. “Do you have any other grazes anywhere? I take it you’ve not got any broken bones or other major injuries?”
“I’m fine,” Katie answered sharply. “Sore and bruised but no, no broken bones.”
“That’s good,” the medic responded. “How’s your vision?”
“Fine,” Katie answered. “I just have a hell of a headache.”
“I’ll give you something for that in a minute,” the medic offered. “Here. Have a drink. Don’t gulp it because it’ll come right back up. Small sips.”
Katie took the proffered water bottle, unscrewed its cap, and slowly drank a mouthful. She swished the first liquid around her mouth, turned her head to the side, and spat it out.
She grimaced. “Sorry about that,” she began, “but my mouth is full of dust.”
The medic grinned. “No worries.”
Katie slowly drank small sips of the delicious water, almost closing her eyes at the blissful moisture in her mouth. She eventually opened her eyes, “Thanks,” she said.
“Let’s put a dressing on that wound,” the medic said, and proceeded to place a thick layer of gauze on the gash and tape it there with strips of surgical tape. “That should do it.”
“Thank you,” Katie said again.
“You want to try to sit up?” the medic asked.
“Okay,” Katie agreed.
The medic shuffled forward on his knees, grasped both of Katie’s hands, and gently pulled her up into a seated position. Katie put a hand to her head and froze, waiting for the pounding to cease knocking at the inside of her skull.
“Hurts, huh?” the medic asked.
“Just a bit,” Katie replied, briefly scrunching up her eyes, as though doing so would cause the pain to abate.
The medic searched through his medical bergen again and brought out a bottle of tablets. He shook two out into the palm of his hand and handed them to her. “Here you go. They’re painkillers. They’re not strong, in case you need something else back at the CTH, but they’ll take the edge off the pain.”
Katie swallowed the tablets, washing them down with water from the bottle.
“Okay, I need to go and report your condition to the old man. He needs to radio back to the base to order a medevac so I’ll need your rank and name. He’ll probably want to come and speak to you himself, find out what went on here,” the medic explained.
Katie gave him her rank and name then slumped back against the rock for support.
The medic repacked his bergen and stood up. “Rest for a bit,” he said and marched off toward the other marines.
Katie closed her eyes and willed the painkillers to start working. Her head felt as though it was going to split. A few minutes later, she heard heavy footfalls approaching but kept her eyes closed. She was far too tired to bother opening them. She heard a noise beside her and was just about to open her eyes to see who it was when a warm hand took her own. She would have recognized that touch anywhere. Her eyes flew open and Joe, looking pale and haggard, was crouched beside her, staring at her with a shocked expression on his face.
Katie tried to smile at him, but instead she found the sight of him too much and to her horror, her eyes began to fill with tears.
“Hey,” he greeted gently.
Katie’s answer was a small sob. She bit her lip hard to prevent the tears from falling. It wouldn’t do to cry out here in the desert in front of Joe’s squad. She needed to be tough to get through this.
Joe squeezed her hand. “How’re you doing?” he asked.
Katie swallowed. “I’ve been better,” she replied in a small voice. “What are you doing here?”
Noting the look of pain on her face, the long scrape on her cheekbone and the ashen color of her skin, Joe felt her pain an
d fear like a lead ball in his gut. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that she would be involved in the helicopter crash. In a way, he was relieved that he hadn’t been aware of it until his medic had given him a report of her condition then her rank and name so that he could report back to the base and order up a medevac. His heart had sunk when he had discovered that the only survivor had been her.
“We were out on patrol,” he explained, trying to keep the tone of his voice even, “and closest to the crash site. We had orders to check for survivors and, if we found any, get them back to base. There are firefights going off all over the place tonight, hostiles carrying out hit and runs and ambushes. We can’t get a medevac out here to this location so we’re going to need to march a few clicks to a safe LZ then a medevac will come and extract you. My medic says that you have a concussion but that you’re okay to march a couple of clicks?”
“I’ll be fine,” Katie said, trying to infuse a little firmness into her voice.
“What happened out here, Katie?” Joe asked.
“We got hit by an RPG,” she explained. “I think it took off the tail rotor. I was thrown out when we hit the ground. I was already standing at the door, ready to jump. I was lucky. I don’t think the others made it. I found the sergeant’s body…” She coughed and cleared her throat. “I dragged him into this dark place in case we were discovered. When I hit the ground, my head must have hit a rock and I blacked out.” She was unaware of a tear trickling down her face. “Those poor people,” she whispered. “They were only doing their jobs.” She sobbed a little and put a shaking hand to her mouth. Another tear trickled down her cheek.
“Katie…” Joe reached up and wiped away the errant tears with a thumb. “Hey, honey, please don’t beat yourself up about it.”
For the Love of a Marine Page 22