I was one of five women chosen to serve our country, fighting side by side with the men, and only some of us had come home. Being surrounded by friends and enemies, having to choose who you can save, who you can love, and how to survive is something...
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As I wrapped fresh bandages around another trooper's wounded arm, I heard bone-shaking booms coming from somewhere nearby. I stopped working for a moment to look up, glancing about those around me. Everyone at the farmhouse instinctively ducked down before continuing on their way.
The medic in charge saw me looking around and informed me, "There's a German outpost near here. I think I overheard some of the officers talking about sending a patrol to take care of it."
"Do you know which group?" I questioned, finishing up my work on the man's arm. I motioned for him to head over to his friends as I turned my gaze over to the medic. The man hopped off the cot rejoined his friends.
The medic shook his head. "No," he began, "I'm not even sure when they are planning on doing it," he shrugged, "they might not do it at all." He turned back to his patient, dropping the conversation entirely.
Approaching another wounded man waiting on a nearby cot, my eyes immediately landed on his obvious wounds. His left shoulder was sloppily bandaged in the field by his friends or possibly even by himself but it was fully saturated in blood - not a smidge of white remained. I started removing the blood-soaked bandage from his shoulder and as soon as I peeled it away from the wound, I saw how bad it truly was. My brows drew together as I swallowed the rising bile back down my throat, lifting my eyes to meet the man. "How did this happen?"
The man's pigmentation was nearly gone from the blood loss, leaving him a sickly shade of white - even his green eyes seemed to have dimmed to a dark gray. His voice cracked from exhaustion as he tried to speak, "During the jump."
My mouth fell open on its own accord as it dawned on me; he had been hit with one of the bigger rounds when he was drifting to the ground instead of a normal bullet from a rifle. The deep wound was several inches wide and the extensive damage was beyond my skills to save him. I furrowed my brow as I tried the best I could to clean it up, despite knowing it probably wouldn't change the inevitable. As I worked, voices nearing the med station caused me to glance up to see who was approaching.
Major Strayer and a couple of his assistants marched up to us. Strayer eyed the two of us before turning to the medic in charge, asking for an update. "How's everything here?"
The medic replied, "We're doing the best we can, sir."
Strayer turned his gaze to me. "You might want to know, Nurse Banks," he began, "your unit is moving out to secure that outpost nearby."
My mouth went dry as I widened my eyes. "Should I be heading out with them, sir?"
Strayer shook his head. "No. Stay here," he told me, glancing about the wounded, the dying, and the deceased, "we need you here more than they do." I nodded once in response. Strayer looked around at the work we were doing before he walked away, his men following close behind. I recognized the look of sadness behind his expression before he left.
