Safe Once More

Chapter Three: Marama 592

Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading! I have no idea how many have read this of yet, and I was sort of nervous to publish it as in the past I've been really secretive about my writing. Why not throw myself out on a limb, hey? Thanks again, don't forget to comment or vote :)

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Marama 592 (Hospital Ship)

December 3, 1916

My Dearest Alice,

I am so very sorry for this long letter, but I have a large amount of time on my hands and need to distract my mind from other matters.
          You may have been notified, but maybe not. I have been wounded in action and my dream of serving my country has ended. I'm on a hospital ship currently and am not sure when this will reach you, if it does at all.

My wound is quite life changing. Dear, I'll never be the same. I couldn't remember what had happened, all I could picture was when I was on the beach with my mate Charlie. The nurse told me I was hit with a shell that was dropped. Apparently it hit the ground right near me, throwing me to the side and...
          It's hard to write about it, dear. It sounds much worse than it is. The nurse told me that while I was unconscious from the blow, I had to be operated on quickly. I was losing too much blood from my left arm. It's gone, dear. I no longer have a left arm.

Devastating, right? I've been awake for 3 days and I am already used to the feeling. Thank goodness I was right-handed. The bandage over my arm is still strapped on, and the nurse said it would be months before the cut is fully healed. I cannot believe how quickly everything changes. I guess that is the way it is in war, one day everything seems fine but the next everything has changed.

I am being treated well here, though. The rocking of the ship makes me feel nauseous, but I think I am getting used to it.Thank goodness there was a place available on this hospital ship. The Marama 592 is one of the strongest and most staffed ships, which I am so thankful for.
         The nurses here are great, too. Always caring and kind, making sure I am in as little pain as possible. I hate lying to them, usually my pain is worse than I describe. They seem to have more important things to do, though.

The man I am 'rooming' with (I guess you could call it that), Private Joseph Rammy, his name is, and he was wounded two days after me. Bought in unconscious as well, according to the nurse. His wound isn't as devastating as mine, but he can deal with pain much better than I can. Joseph received a large wound to his leg when he was trying to load up his gun in the trench. He said that the man next to him had loaded up his gun and it malfunctioned and fired by accident, right into Joseph's leg.

The nurses claimed that if it was not for the bullet lodged into Joseph's leg and the amount of blood he was losing, he would have had to stay up there in the trenches and keep fighting. It makes me mad, to think that a man could just be sent back into the trenches with a wound like that, but I suppose there aren't enough nurses to help. Men came into the trenches bandaged up all the time, as if there wasn't any other option, but really there wasn't.
          Joseph lives up in Perth, just like us. He will be leaving the boat at the same port I am, thank goodness. Everyone else on this ship seems so grumpy, but Joe and I get along swell.

I hope you are well, dear. I apologize for telling you this story through writing, but I could not wait until I'm back to tell you about it. Please let my mother know about the injury, and I should arrive home to Perth in under four weeks.

Yours truly and lovingly,
Corporal Luke Miller.