6. Sarah
6. Sarah
My heart plunged as I heard the news that Danny’s patrol had been hit. One dead, two seriously injured. They were bringing them into the hospital now.
Danny was the first in. My eyes skittered over him. He had blood-soaked dressings on his arm and hand and extensive shrapnel wounds to his face which was caked in blood and soot. His eyes were closed.
‘Danny!’ I cried, rushing over to him.
‘He’s going to be fine,’ the medic wheeling him in told me. ‘We had to sedate him.’
Sedate him? I wanted to ask more, but there wasn’t time. Other trollies were being wheeled in behind him.
‘Sarah!’ It was Colonel Blackstone.
‘Go,’ the medic smiled. ‘I’ve got this.’
I rushed to the second trolley and saw that it was Carl. His eyes registered my presence for just a second. They were the same striking blue as the day I’d first met him in the canteen, but his focus drifted off now.
‘Carl, Carl, can you hear me?’
He closed his eyes.
‘Carl,’ I pleaded. ‘Carl!’ I reached for his hand.
‘He’s going into shock,’ the colonel said. ‘Let’s get him into surgery.’
Carl’s breathing was shallow and rapid, his hand cold and clammy. I had an awful feeling that he didn’t want to wake up. I gripped his hand as we wheeled him into theatre.
‘Carl, it’s Sarah.’ I tried to sound calm, even though my heart was racing. ‘We’re taking you into surgery now. You’re hurt but you’re going to be okay. You hear me? You’re going to be okay. So hang in there. Will you do that, Carl? Will you do that for me?’
I stepped back to let the anaesthetist place the mask over his face. I thought of the young soldier I’d watched him put the very same mask on, less than an hour ago. He hadn’t made it.
‘You okay?’ Jenni asked as I came out of theatre. ‘You look shattered. Why don’t you go and sit with Danny.’
I shook my head. I felt guilty about not going to him, but I knew Danny would be sleeping. My emotions were with Carl, I couldn’t leave him. How could I explain that to Jenni? I could barely explain it to myself. Something about him just seemed so achingly vulnerable, lying on that hospital trolley. And so alone.
I looked over my shoulder, peeked through the glass panel into the operating theatre, and scanned the monitors by Carl’s side. His vitals were steady. Thank God.
I turned back to Jenni. ‘Who …?’ I asked her. ‘Who …’ I couldn’t bring myself to finish the sentence.
‘Sarge is injured but he’s going to be okay,’ Jenni said. ‘Fridge …’ She looked stricken.
Oh God. Fridge. His poor family.
I wondered if Carl knew. The loss of his friend would hit him hard. All the lads were good mates but none more so than those two. Best friends since way before they joined the army, they were like brothers. They ordered the same food, laughed at the same jokes, finished each other’s sentences.
Carl had spent time in care as a kid – like Caroline, Jobbo’s girlfriend – and from what I could gather Fridge and his parents had, to all intents and purposes, been his family. And now Fridge was gone.
How was it possible that just a few short hours ago we had all been sitting in the canteen together joking?
‘Go on,’ Jenni insisted. ‘Go check on Danny. I’ve got this.’
After one more glance into the operating theatre, to reassure myself that Carl was going to be all right, I went to check on Danny. He was fast asleep, his wounds cleaned and dressed.
I kissed him on the forehead. ‘Sleep well, sweetheart,’ I whispered. Then, knowing that he was peaceful – for now, at least – I busied myself in recovery. I checked patients’ pulse rates and blood pressures. I assessed surgical sites and monitored IV fluids. I went over levels of sensation. Then I checked pulse rates and blood pressures and IV fluids again.
My mind flicked back to the training base I’d been sent to before I came out here. The endless drills we rehearsed, over and over again, on dummies and volunteer patients, doing precisely this.
It felt strange to think of the person I was then. I had thought I knew it all. I had thought I was ready for anything. But nothing could have prepared me for the real thing. How could it?
For the sheer overwhelming, relentless sadness of war.
For the sight of Danny’s bloodied, soot-blackened face.
For Fridge.
For Ellie, the wife I would write to at the end of my shift, to tell her that her husband’s last words had been how much he loved her.
The doors swung open and Jenni and another nurse pushed Carl’s trolley into the room.
‘He’s going to be fine,’ she said. ‘How’s Danny doing?’
‘Fast asleep,’ I told her. ‘But …’
Jenni looked at me.
‘I’m worried. About them having to sedate him. Apparently, he was in shock.’
She nodded. ‘I wouldn’t worry too much,’ she said kindly. ‘Plenty of the lads who come through here suffer from the accumulated effects of stress. Coming under attack, facing IEDs every day, they’re bound to. I’d say it’s to be expected, after what Danny’s been through today.’ She looked down at Carl. ‘What they’ve all been through.’
Jenni started to run through his post-operative checks.
I reached my hand out for the chart she was holding. ‘Why don’t you grab a coffee?’
She looked at me gratefully. ‘You sure?’
I prised the chart out of her hands in response.
‘I’ll bring one back for you,’ she said, disappearing out of the room.
When the door opened again, half an hour later, I assumed it was Jenni.
But then I heard Caroline’s voice.
‘Hey,’ she said quietly. ‘I hope it’s okay to be here. I just wanted to check on you all.’ Ashen-faced, she stared at Carl. ‘How is he doing?’
‘He’s going to be fine.’
‘Thank God.’ She sighed heavily. ‘Does he know?’ she whispered. ‘About Fridge?’
‘I’m not sure. He didn’t say anything when they brought him in.’
‘Carl will be lost without him.’
I nodded.
‘I still can’t believe he’s gone,’ Caroline said. ‘It doesn’t seem real.’
We both stared at the tubes running in and out of Carl’s body.
When I looked up, I saw that Caroline was staring at me. I didn’t realize I was crying until she put her arms around me.