by W. R. Benton
Many long minutes later, the other gunner handed the Frenchman earphones so he could listen to the communications as they made their way east. He heard all kinds of radio traffic from jets bombing, to rescue attempts, and even heard one pilot call out a mayday just before he ejected.
Suddenly the pilot of this aircraft said, “Roger Tower, I have at least four injured on board, my instruments show I'm losing fuel, and I have just enough gas to do a straight in approach and touch down, over.”
“Roger, you're cleared to make a straight in approach and set it down where you can, Rescue Six. Be advised, have your passengers meet at the nose of your aircraft, about a 100 feet. Over. We have a firetruck and ambulance on the way now.”
“Roger that and will do, out.”
Gueguen sat back in his seat and unconsciously pulled his seat-belt just a little tighter. Smoke was now entering the passenger compartment and a small panel constructed of aluminum blew past the door opening. Then, without notice, the aircraft began to shake and shudder violently.
They'd just crossed the fence to the airport, flying low, when he heard, “Uh, tower, this is Rescue Six and I have to put this baby down now.”
“Understand, Six, and you do what needs to be done.”
The aircraft stopped in mid air and slowly began to lower toward the ground. The instant the helicopter skids touched the ground the pilot killed all the power. Leaning back, he said, “Now, in a controlled manner, move everyone about a 100 feet off my nose, straight at my 12 o'clock position.”
The blades overhead were still turning slowly but without power as the healthy moved the wounded to the designated spot. The pilot was the last man to show, carrying his co-pilot over his shoulder.
Emergency vehicles were approaching and for the first time since he'd been at the cemetery, Gueguen felt safe.
The emergency personnel were soon moving all over the men and before he knew what was happening, Gueguen had an IV in his arm and he was being loaded in the back of an ambulance. Something was added to his IV by syringe, and he fell asleep.
He awoke in a hospital bed and when he tried to sit up, his left leg hurt. Pulling the covers back, he saw a slightly bloody, bandaged thigh.
A nurse stuck her head in the door and said, “Oh, I see you are awake. Captain, you are recovering from a bullet to your thigh and one to your hand. It was mostly spent when it struck you, but the doctor had to dig it out. I need you to sleep and rest. Your unit has been notified.”
“What of the other men with me?” He had no idea why he asked, but it was suddenly important for him to know who had died.
“All survived except the man with the broken spine. Seems at some point in all the action, he took a bullet to the chest. I'm afraid he was dead before he was pulled from your aircraft. Was he a friend of yours? Oh, and how is you pain level?”
Rubbing the stubble on his chin, he replied, “No, no, I do not even know his name. He was just a comrade in arms, is all. I am sorry he died. My pain is what woke me up. The leg is throbbing.”
“The rest of the crew are fine, and a couple will be discharged in the next day or two so they can recover in their barracks. We have lots of wounded coming in now that the big offensive is on and we need the space.” She moved to his chart at the end of his bed, looked it over, and then pulled out a syringe. She added morphine to the line hooked to his IV, using the INT site, to kill his pain.
“I see.” he said, but was surprised, because he knew nothing of a big push west. Morphine works pretty fast, I am getting sleepy already. I am not even gone twelve hours and the whole course of the war has changed. Good, maybe I can sit part of this one out, he thought as he closed his eyes.
The first sign of serious trouble with the convoy was when someone screamed over the frequency, “Move, and now! Move!”
Explosions were heard.
“We're being killed here, we're —”
Major Turner heard bullets striking all around and explosions as bombs were dropped and vehicles exploded. The tanks were seen separating from the convoy and moving overland, away from the highway. The air was filled with tracers of all colors, and at times he would hear someone scream as they were hit. He took the bottle from the Colonel's hand and took a long gulp from the container itself. He watched as the driver and passenger in the front seat opened their doors and moved for cover at a run. Neither man made it to safety.
Major Turner had just struck Colonel Gamble hard on the side of his head with the bottle, and was reaching for the door handle, when the staff car exploded, sending flames and debris high into the air. The flaming car seemed to leap a few feet in the air and then fell back to earth. Both Turner and Gamble were dead, and the convoy, except for a couple of tanks, was destroyed.
After the aircraft left, the senior survivor of the attack, Lieutenant Colonel Thomas, reported to base that he would wait until daylight to return with the remains of his convoy. The loss was such that the unit could never function again in combat, with over ninety percent losses in both personnel and vehicles.
Chapter 10
When James and his crew arrived at camp, Dick was still with the living but struggling to stay that way. Nancy had him brought into a big tent and placed on a cot she used to treat the wounded. The canvas shelter provided her a hospital of sorts to fix up those hurt and injured in battles. The most she'd treated so far were bullet holes, and Dick was the first mine victim. Her facility was crude, with no real medical equipment, but well stocked in drugs since they'd robbed a pharmacy in Licking, Missouri the year before.
She had no X-ray machines and could do little with the medical equipment she had except take a patient's temperature and blood pressure. She did know his blood type, which was A+, so she looked down the list of other partisans, written in code, to see who else had the same blood type. She had many to choose from, but settled on Gator and Ben. The old man wasn't as active in combat as the others, was in excellent shape for his age, and on no medications. Most of the time Gator stood guard at camp or cooked while the others were out on missions. Ben was younger by about twenty years, in good health, and very active. Between the two, maybe she'd be able to get enough blood to get Dick back on his feet. She'd take a pint of blood from each man.
She had empty IV bags taken from a destroyed UN ambulance earlier in the year, but outside of a few medical tools found in the vehicle, there was little taken. She had no way to refrigerate the blood she'd found that day so it was left behind, but she'd taken a surgeon's field bag, with all she needed to do any surgery.
Now she'd have to collect blood from the old man and Ben, then put it in Dick. If needed, she'd get more from the other partisans. She had some sport drinks to help him regain some electrolytes, and she'd gotten those the night they'd loaded up Gator's store. She'd need an assistant as she worked on Dick, and she'd use Shaw. He kept a level head, knew the various tools of the business, and was quiet most of the time.
James walked in and said, “If you need anything for Dick, let me know.”
“I'll want Shaw to assist me as I work on the arm, and I'll need to take blood from Gator and Ben because they have the same type. I'll collect their blood and then give it to Dick in an IV.”
“How will you close the wound? I see no way you can do what is done in a normal hospital.”
“No, I am primitive at best, and the damage done to the arm is such that I can't just sew the skin together. I don't have the equipment needed to do a skin graph, or to see the arteries well enough to tie them off, so I'll likely cauterize the stub.”
“Burn it?” James asked. He knew burning worked, or hot tar, but the thought of burning had never entered his mind. He read of surgeons in years past who'd burned serious injuries closed, only at this date and time he thought things were different.
“I'll burn it shut using a red-hot knife. It will seal the flesh, veins, and arteries instantly. First though, we need to spend some time cleaning the wound. I don't want to lose him to infection afte
r we treat him. I have antibiotics from the pharmacy, so I can place him on those for a bit following treatment.”
“You'd better have some heavy pain killers if you're going to burn the man, or some way to knock his ass out. I'd lose my mind if you burned me like that.” He gave a visible shudder.
Nancy gave a light laugh and then said, “Morphine will work, and I have that. It'll not kill all the pain, but most of it. Now, I need for you to send me Gator and Ben, so I can take a pint of blood from each. Oh, and have Shaw come as well. I can promise nothing, but I'll do the best I can for Dick, and then it's up to God.”
Later, as Shaw cleaned Dick's arm of small debris, Nancy looked the A-10 pilot over closely and found no injuries. Cook was just sore and bruised, but in many cases, bones were broken while ejecting from aircraft.
She handed him a pint of whiskey and said, “Drink enough now and then as needed until the soreness leaves. I'd imagine by the time the bottle is gone, you'll feel pretty normal. Has James decided what to do with you yet?”
“He said he would take me to Fort Leonard Wood in a few days. He seems to think that me missing in the field is hurting the war effort.” Cook said, and then took a gulp of the strong amber liquid.
“He's like that, and knows every qualified pilot is needed in the air. He's totally against the New World Order and the present United States. I can remember some of the remarks he made about our country when we first came here.”
“Regardless of who wins this war, do you think the United States will ever be whole again?”
“I do, but not for years yet. We were doomed when we started bringing in refugees from countries that hated us, turned politically correct, and allowed politicians to run this land without listening to the will of the people. America is for Americans and while others can move here, they need to become Americans and not settle in areas that are exclusively set aside for their group of folks. New Americans must adhere to our laws and customs and not expect us to change anything to suit them. I saw this war coming years back, when all the Syrian refugees were resettled here and very few were Christians. I noticed at the time most of the refugees were young males of military age and I wondered why they were not in the army, defending their homeland.”
“They were allowed in here to increase the Liberal vote, and that's my thoughts on the subject. I have nothing against Muslims, but we did absolutely no screening of those coming in, not really, and many were radical. Now, there is a difference between a radical Baptist and Muslim, because only the radical Muslim will kill you and others if he can.”
“He's clean, Nancy.” Shaw said, and stood.
“Well, we'll talk again later, because I have to turn my attention to Dick. Go easy on the bottle, I will give you no more.”
Cook left the tent after a nod followed by a smile, and she turned her attention to her next patient.
They'd moved the cot near the door and had two knife blades stuck in the fire. Shaw walked to the flames and said, “Both blades are shimmering red.”
Dick had been given morphine and appeared unconscious, but Nancy knew as soon as the hot knife touched him, he'd raise a fuss.
“Bring me a knife and then hold him down as I sear the flesh on his arm. He'll buck on you and probably go nuts, so expect some hard movements from him.”
“Okay,” Shaw said and picked up a knife, noticing even the handle was somewhat hot.
He moved to the tent, handed the glowing knife to Nancy, and then held Dick's shoulders down.
When the hot blade touched him, he gave a loud shriek, but it quickly died as he passed out from the pain.
“Good, he's unconscious, so bring me the other knife now, and hurry.”
With the second knife she sealed the injury and then hooked up an IV with blood for her patient. She knew he'd lost a lot of blood when initially wounded. Shaw was walking around gagging over the smell of burnt flesh, so she had him stand upwind.
“He didn't take the hot knife well, did he?” James asked as he neared.
“Most folks don't, but there was no other way to stop the bleeding. Dick's too good of a man to allow him to bleed to death.”
“I hear you. What kind of condition is Captain Cook in? I plan to take him to Fort Leonard Wood within the week, so can he make the trip?”
“He's bruised and sore, but he'll live. I gave him a bottle of whiskey to kill most of his pain.”
“I noticed, and didn't expect any serious injury to him. How long before we'll know about Dick?”
“I expect the next 24 hours to be crucial with him. I'm worried about how much blood he lost and infection. I was able to take blood from Gator and Ben, and it will take time for their bodies to recover from the missing blood. I don't want to take blood from either of them for at least a month.”
“There are others with his blood type, including me.”
“I don't want to take blood from everyone with his blood type, so I have good sources of blood in case someone else is injured. There is a limit of what I can do for any of you.”
“Tired?”
“Yes, very, so I need to eat and get some sleep. It must be late.”
Looking at his watch, James said, “A little after 8 pm. I imagine just working on a wounded individual takes a lot out of a person, so call it a night. I'll place a guard in the tent with Dick, so if you're needed at some point, they'll come and get you.”
“My biggest concern is he may start bleeding again, but it's not likely.”
“Just relax for now and eat, then sleep.”
Morning dawned wet with a light rain that had been falling since close to midnight, but the temperature was warm. Nancy woke; she'd slept in the tent, and found Dick in much better condition than she'd left him. When she listened to his heart, it was beating stronger and steady, so she unknowingly smiled. His face had better color and what remained of his arm was badly bruised, but when she changed the bandage, she found no fresh blood.
She walked from the tent, moving for the bathroom area, which was little more than two tarps that shielded the user from the eyes of others, and a trench dug in the ground.
On her return, James asked, “How is our man?” He'd been gathering firewood for the always hungry flames.
“I honestly think he'll survive. I hope to never burn another person in this life. To do something like that, I need anesthesia.”
“Well, we know it works now, but it's a rough way to treat a man.”
“It reminded me of 1776 and a story I read once about the Revolutionary War. Our Navy at the time knew very little about medicine or medical issues. On board each ship they set aside an area where the wounded were taken. In that area they kept a constantly hot blade or piece of iron, or a container of hot tar. The doctor, who often was the ship's cook, would the use the hot tar or blade on any man who lost a limb. They knew of opium at the time and they had laudanum, but can you imagine the pain those men must have experienced? Usually, they only had rum for a pain killer after treatment.”
“Hush.” James suddenly said, “I hear something.”
“It's a chopper, but a ways off yet, because I saw it earlier. It seems to be looking for something, and that something may be us.” Ben said, from his position as camp guard.
“Keep your eyes on it as long as you can, and if you hear a difference in pitch, let me know. The pitch difference may mean they're landing.”
“I'll let you know.”
“Do you think they'll land?” Cook asked.
“I'm not a fortune teller, but it's possible. Just so you know, I'll not run from a squad of men, but if we engage anyone with a radio we'll have compromised our position, and will have to move. There is no way to avoid it that I know of.”
“If we move, Dick may not survive the trip.” Nancy said.
“Well, I'll not risk the safety and security of all of us for one man. Now, I'd hope you'd make the same decision if I was in Dick's place. No single person is worth gambling with the lives of the group.”
Nancy met his eyes and said, “All I was doing was making a statement on his condition.”
Gator said, “I know of a cave near Newburg, high on a hill above the railroad tracks.”
“I'll keep it in mind, but right now we are placing —”
“The bird is landing to our north, maybe a mile off, and near where Gator killed that big buck last fall.”
“Okay, we'll take all but Nancy and Shaw, and prepare an ambush for our visitors. They may or may not know we're in the area. If this turns to shooting, we'll damned sure have to move.”
Gator, who had often hunted the area in the past said, “There's a deer trail that runs from that field to almost right here. Many times guarding at night I've heard deer moving on the trail here.”
“A good scout will use that trail, so let's move and prepare a warm welcome for the UN.” James said, and picked up his rifle.
The President of the Conservative States of America stepped on the stage and cleared his throat. He placed both hands on top of the podium and said, “My fellow Americans, I come before you today with great sadness in my heart. I have had the sad experience of learning of many deaths and injuries in occupied Chicago last night as a result of local residents breaking curfew. Our last count was five hundred deaths and over a thousand injured, but some of the badly injured may not survive. This was not done because we are evil, but because the protesters broke the law.