“Don’t call me that. You know I hate—”
But the last part of my sentence was drowned out as a loud bang erupted somewhere outside the small plane, and my bones shuddered along with the stacked beds in back. Ahead of us a plane swooped toward the earth, another on its tail.
“What are they doing out here?” I asked, hanging on to the back of Mac’s seat.
Most of the action was back in Guadalcanal, where we’d just loaded the men.
“Dammit, I don’t know!” Mac yelled, pulling us higher as another plane came into view. “Get back in your seat!”
Holding on to what I could, I moved unsteadily to the back of the plane again, noticing as I went that one of my patients was pulling at the bandage on his arm. An arm that had been partially amputated.
I let go of the wall and moved as fast as I could, grasping hold of the bed frame as the plane tilted to one side.
“Hey,” I said, wrapping my free hand around the man’s remaining one, my eyes going to the name that had been fastened to his gown. “You need to leave it, Thompson. The stitches are fresh and you don’t want to pull them out.”
But he shook his head, confusion in eyes clouded with pain medication as he looked down, searching for the missing appendage.
The plane shook violently and my grip slipped, one knee hitting the edge of the bunk below before slamming into the floor.
“You okay?” Mac shouted.
“No!” I shouted back, feeling my leg, my hand coming away with blood on it. “Get us out of here!”
“I’m trying. I’m trying.”
I got to my feet again and took the patient’s hand as I looked at his bandage. There was a little blood staining the fresh wrap and I wondered how many stitches he’d managed to get to. Hopefully it was just a bit of seepage from the wound and nothing that would require him to endure even more pain.
“We’ll be on the ground soon,” I said, wincing as the initial ache in my knee subsided and a stinging sensation from the skin being ripped away set in. “Hang in there, okay? Just a little bit longer and we’ll be on the ground.”
The air began to warm and I realized it was quieter again, the shaking of the beds lessening.
“We clear?” I yelled toward the front of the plane.
“All clear. Our guys got him. Buckle in for landing.”
With a last squeeze of the soldier’s hand, I let go and hurried to my seat, strapping in and watching out the tiny window at my side for the familiar sight of palm trees rushing by, the telltale sign we were home.
A few minutes later we touched down hard, the wounded bodies on the beds across from me rising for the briefest of moments before settling again, several of the men wincing as they were violently shifted.
“Jesus, Mac!” I shouted.
“Hey! You’re alive! What do you say?”
I rolled my eyes. “Thank you, Mac.”
“That’s better, doll.”
I scowled over my shoulder at him and he winked back and then steered us across the pavement.
“Whatcha got on tonight, Lieutenant?” Mac asked as he opened the side door and then stood aside as several nurses and doctors hurried across the runway with foldable litters to collect the wounded. “Wanna get dinner in the mess? Maybe have a drink and play some cards?” He patted the bag slung over his shoulder, the sound of glass bottles clinking against one another.
I shook my head as I unhooked an IV from where it hung and helped move the soldier it had been connected to before kneeling to help the guy on the bunk below.
“Sorry, I’m beat. Plus, I’m hanging on to my winnings from last time.”
He laughed. “You cleaned me out.”
“You were drunk as a skunk.”
