When war erupted across Europe in 1939, sixteen year old Katherine Montague had known what she wanted to do - what she had to do. Now, five years later and a trained nurse in the British army, she finds herself thrust into the thick of that same war...
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YAY for another update before I go back to work and then go on vacation for July 4th! If I've said it once, I've said it a million times... but I am LOVING this story! Let me know what you guys think ... I love reading your comments and hearing your feedback! <3
"Alright Lieutenant Clarke," Katherine said, tying off the gauze of the fresh bandage she'd applied to the man's burned arm. "You're all set." Standing from the wooden stool she'd pulled to his bedside, she wiped her hands down the front of her apron.
"Thank you nurse," He said, fighting back a grimace.
"I hope it wasn't too terrible for you," She commented, gathering up the tray of supplies she'd brought with her. She'd tried to finish as quickly as possible, but no amount of speed, or morphine - which he'd received a hefty dose of - could make the debridement process any less horrendous than it already was.
It had been a nasty chemical burn, caused by the premature ignition of a smoke grenade. She'd heard about the damage white phosphorus could do if ignited on someone's clothing or skin. It burned fast and hot, and if you were unlucky enough to come into contact with the flame without it killing you, you'd soon be wishing it had. He'd been lucky that it had only burned his arm.
"Don't worry about me," He shook his head, wiping away the beads of sweat that had accumulated on his forehead during the procedure. "Though if you have any more of the good stuff, I wouldn't be opposed to it," He added, mustering a smile.
"I'm afraid you're maxed out," She gave him a sympathetic smile, holding up the empty syringe of morphine she'd already administered. "But I can bring you another dose with dinner if you're still uncomfortable," She added. He nodded his thanks and she turned on her heel, tray in hand.
"Archie," She smiled, pausing at Officer Andrews' bed to visit for a moment before she returned to the supply room.
"Kat," He smiled back. He was sitting up, dressed in a white t-shirt and a pair of fatigues that had been cut to accommodate his leg cast. Closing the newspaper he'd been thumbing through, he sat it on the bedside table.
"Well look at you," She said, her smile widening. "You look like you're ready for a road trip."
"Today's the da-" He wheezed, breaking off mid sentence into a series of hacking coughs. Sitting her tray down, she crouched beside him.
"Are you alright?" She asked, patting his back as he recovered from the episode.
"Oh, I'm fine," He waved his hand dismissively. "Just this nagging cough that won't quit."
"When did it start?" She furrowed her brow.
"This morning," He replied. "My chest felt so heavy it woke me up."
"Let me have a look at you," She said, picking up the stethoscope she'd been wearing around her neck.
"I'm fine," Archie shook his head. "I'm sure it's just a-," He cleared his throat, letting out another dry cough. "Just a head cold."
