WARNING: pure fluff, mentions of blood, death and war,
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love, miss nurse
the war in the pacific seemed to have dragged on. many soldiers had come and gone through the medic tent; most alive, but some succumbing to the inevitable end. thank god for penicillin else you'd be saying goodbye to more men than you would have liked.
the battle of peleliu in the autumn of '44 saw over 2,000 men dead and over 8,000 men wounded, many of them seen (and saved) by you. the battle had finally reached its end, and, still, nearly 100 men were in your care. none of them had made impacting impression on you, until an auburn haired soldier was dragged into your tent.
he had minimal injuries, but they would definitely leave scars. when he arrived, he was unconscious, but breathing. the soldiers who brought him in said he had only been out for a short while. 'he fainted when he saw his blood' they said, patting his shoulder before running out of the tent.
as you looked over the soldier, you noted that he had a reason to faint. his badly bandaged arm had bled through the material, but, luckily, the wound was clean. both of his ankles were swollen, light bruising slowly appearing. there were a few scars on his face, only little ones which would usually be on every soldier's face.
you tended to his wound first, removing the bandages and cleaning up all of the blood that hadn't been cleaned earlier. the wound was still raw, bright red at that, notifiying you that it wasn't infected. it didn't take you long to rewrap his wound, applying the right amount of pressure to stop the bleeding. his ankles were easy; nothing that some ice couldn't help.
once you were happy with how you dealt with his wounds, you grabbed your clipboard, ready to write down the soldier's injuries. luckily, his dog tags were clean and legible, clearly showing the man as eugene b. sledge, k company, of the 1st marine division. 'finally,' you thought. 'a name to a pretty face.'
eugene stayed out for the night. he slept through peacefully, his ankles reducing slightly in size by the morning and his arm stayed clean and uninfected. when he woke, you were nowhere in sight, only a cup of water and a bowl of, what looked like, oatmeal on his bedside table.
although he had never been before, eugene recognised the tent as the medic tent (and not due to the medical equipment surrounding him and the other wounded soldiers). the tight wrap around his arm and the coolness of his ankles reminded him of the events of the day before. the screams. the shouts. the sounds. all too vivid for his liking.
"morning, mr sledge," you smiled as you walked around to collect his now empty cup and bowl. "did you sleep well?"
"if my memory serves me well, i believe i was knocked out over the night, so my best guess is that i slept fine, miss nurse." the small smirk on eugene's face made you giggle.
"well, mr sledge, you're one of the lucky few to survive the night," your smile sadden as you broke the news to him. "it seems some of your friends in the 1st division didn't make it. infections and pain really take their toll here."
