Fighting For Love

XIV - French Bastards

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Chapter 14: French Bastards

June 13th, 1940 - 18:00

Somewhere in Eastern France

We had been up for about four hours when rescue finally came: we were hungry, sweaty, tired and thirsty and I don't think I've ever wanted a bath so badly in my whole life as I did then. I stank of something burned and spoiled at the same time. I had smelled death: I held her in my arms and this was not the same. This was worse.

A white truck with a red cross parked on the lavender field, now burned entirely, and the people who were in it came to us, as Otto and I shouted on top of the hill. A doctor and two nurses were the first sight of living humans we had in the past several hours and it was amazing.

"Doctor Acker," said the man, stretching a hand to greet me. When I did the same, he noticed the glass shard stuck in my arm. "Don't worry, I can take care of this in no time."

"Ertha!" He shouted at one of the nurses, while the other was checking if Otto wasn't hurt. Quickly, the nurse came, carrying a suitcase. "Quickness. I really appreciate that in you," he said to Ertha and she blushed.

"Thank you, doctor," she said, letting out a smirk and he smiled from ear to ear.

I cleared my throat, just to bring the doctor's attention back to me: I didn't want that shard in my arm for any longer than it already had been.

"Oh yes, I am sorry," he adjusted his glasses with a finger, as they were very close to sliding down his nose. "When did this happen?" He asked, while searching for something in the suitcase.

"When the airplanes came. Probably about 7 hours ago, I am not really sure, don't have a watch."

"Uhum," he mumbled as he grabbed a flask containing an uncolored liquid. Alcohol, I assumed.

"Is it bad?" I asked as he examined it.

"No. It looks like a shallow cut, to me. I am honestly more surprised by the fact the shard got stuck in your arm."

"Good."

"You were talking about airplanes?""

"Yes. I don't know how many, but they came dropping bombs that destroyed everything. You must have seen it as you we... Ouch!" I looked at my arm, then at Doctor Acker, who was holding the glass shard in his hand.

"It's out," he stated the obvious, with a smile on his face. "Did it hurt?"

"Not much."

"Keep the patient distracted. It always works for me," he said, as he grabbed a rag of cloth and poured some of the liquid on it. "This will burn a little, so keep talking. Where are you from?"

"Frankfurt," he placed the rag on the wound, rubbing it gently. It burned like hell.

"I have relatives there."

"Oh, really? Small world, isn't it?"

"Yes, Colonel Schmidt. Do you know him?" Yes, the number one cuckold in Germany.

"I've heard about him. Everyone has. He's a big name in Frankfurt's society."

He threw the bloody cloth away and got another one, pouring more liquid on it.

"And my grand-uncle. But I've never really been to Frankfurt and never met him in person either."

He held the cloth on the wound and, with another hand, grabbed a tape and cut it with his teeth. He fixated the cloth with the tape and looked satisfied with the improvised bandage.