Jo White- Woman at War

Chapter Nineteen

The ambulance is uneven and slow with all the mud that clogs its tires, "I mean it, you know," Oscar says, his knuckles turning white from the vice grip he had on the bed.

"Mean what?"

"That I'm going to marry you when all this is over," he says, with a tilted smile. My heart swells at the image of great roles of white fabric, flowers bound in pretty ribbons and Oscar stood at the end of the church in the same suit that he wore to the dance.

"I'd like that," I say eventually. I swallow hard, as I feel the ambulance tires stick and idyllic images of us safe disintegrates into an icy desolated land. I can see my breath in the back of the ambulance, Oscar has his own bubble of breath opposite me, I can only see that, the white of his teeth and the whites of his eyes in here which is swathed in darkness. "Have you got a lighter?"

"Err... yes," I can hear him patting himself down until he slides a gold rectangle in my palm. I uncap it, it feels cool against my palms that are sweating despite the biting cold. There's an engraving on it, some delicate design, I flick it on emitting a short flame, "What are you doing?"

"Can't really stand the dark,"

"Oh," I can hear the smile behind his voice.

"Shut up,"

"I didn't say anything," he chuckles, I hoover the lighter in between us so his face is illuminated. He smiles at me, I reach over to him, my fingertips running over his stubble that's grown thicker now. He leans into my hand, and his own hand reaches over mine and brings it to his lips, "Still scared of the dark?"

"Yes," I reply, sinking back into the stretcher. He hums, interlocking our fingers again.

"We'll be alright,"

"You think so?"

"Yes, I do," he says. There's a sincerity in his eyes, that I feel almost completely his. The ambulance comes to a stop, Oscar secures one hand on his bag and steps down through the ambulance. A wave of sweating heat washes over me, as the canvas swathe is rolled up and Oscar helps me down.

I feel like I could vomit at the scene unfolding in front of me. There's an underlying ringing that sinks under the groaning and screaming of men. There's a chaos to it. Men scrambling, some scratching at their red eyes, others being soothed and tended to by other doctors who look as equally distressed. Me and Oscar stand shoulder to shoulder for a moment, letting the chaos envelope us. Oscar begins coughing beside me, I suspect from the stench of sweat but blended with a cooper tinge, from the blood that is spilling out of limbs and hearts.

"God," I exhale, not sure if Oscar is going to hear me but just needing to breath out the breath that had been growing tight in my chest. My eyes are beginning to sting now and I realise I haven't blinked. I blink harshly now, my eyes trying to regain moisture that the wind has taken at his mercy.

"Come on," Oscar moves forward, his hands reaching out and finding a soldier whose face was damp and scratched. "Sit down, sir," We sit each side of him, Oscar handing me bottles of saline and cotton. I uncap it, gritting my jaw hard to try and block out everything that was happening so brightly in the darkness. The soldier is begging for us to help him now, and I'm shaking so much the saline slops on the ground, Oscar reaches over him and takes the soaked cotton off of my hands and runs it over his eyes. He relaxes, obviously soothed as I screw the cap on tightly. My head is beginning to hurt, from the untameable chaos.

"I've got this," Oscar says to me, I nod going over to another group of men, an oil lantern gripped in my hand. I hover the lantern to their faces, all greasy and breathless, eyes wide like a spooked animal. I falter for a second, his expression not what I was expecting; full of fear and pleading.