The gardens of the Achilleon

Asclepius: nam bonum sanitas

Montgomery doesn't remember how exactly he and his plane managed to get back... most of it was a complete blur of memory fragments. Of Manfred... then of home... then of Tommy and then back to Manfred.

The first thing he remembered clearly was waking up to the sight of a nurse... unlike in the movies he was met with a crooked smile consisting of a few rotten teeth and a smell that smelled like 50 cigarettes combined with about a pound of sugar... her hair dishevelled and she looked like she needed to catch up on a few good nights of sleep...

"Oh sir, you're awake". She said... oh well, she's not nice to look at but at least she's kind.

Montgomery looked around himself, he was at the small improvised hospital ward at the airfield in Ypres where he and his squadron are stationed. The hospital ward was a makeshift tent with only half a dozen beds and 2 nurses and one doctor (god bless his soul).

An understaffed facility with only one operating room and only one doctor skilled enough to perform operations...

"Wha-... oh-". Montgomery said, finally getting his thoughts and mind to align and think clearly about what went down and where he was. They must have given him opium because the headache that pounded in his head was now only a soft buzz. "you were very lucky sir Armstrong, only a small skull fracture, it should heal in no time". The nurse said breaking the silence and Montgomery could only nod... Montgomery did an effort to try and look at her name on her uniform but quickly found him too delirious on opium to even attempt sitting up.

"You'll have to lay down, sir... you'll have to rest for a while, and you'll be given two weeks of medical leave". Said the kind nurse and Montgomery didn't protest the idea of going home, he had missed London... and he'd be in time to attend his brother's wedding.

"Oh... when will I be allowed to leave miss?" He asked the nurse as she provided him with a small cup of lukewarm tea, Montgomery didn't complain... he took a careful sip from the tea so as not to choke, drinking while laying down wasn't really efficient. "You'll be allowed to leave bed once you're able to walk and you don't need any more opium". She responded. Montgomery laid in bed, counting the stitches in the tent above him, he managed to get to 27 before boring himself...

Outside the sounds of mechanics running through the mud and planes being dragged around dominated the white noise that filled the atmosphere.

His thoughts drifted back to yesterday... or however long ago it was that he had crashed...

Would he have spared Manfred? If he had been in his shoes and more than only semi-cognitive would he have dragged Manfred to safety and stayed with him in enemy territory like he had done for him? Or would he have murdered him with his own hands and fists?

Lord knows Montgomery couldn't do that... he was a pilot, not a killer.

His history with Manfred went back beyond the war before even the thought of war occurred.

Their parents had gotten acquainted through Montgomery's uncle... his mother's brother, as an ex-prime-minister of Greece he had a large web of business associates, one of them being the von Richthofen family. So one faithful Christmas in 1912, he and Manfred had sat at the same table... and had talked to one another in a civilised manner.

Montgomery needed to stop thinking about that Prussian bastard, maybe it was because he was such a threat or the inevitable thought of having to face his old friend in battle... but the battle wasn't something he should worry about for now, he was going back to London for two weeks, he'll be eating up his closet in anticipation to get back to flying... maybe he should try getting his driver's license while he's back there...