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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We retreated to one of the smaller towns we passed through earlier that morning. As we limped back into town, the residents, who were once cheering and waving orange flags at us, took their flags down and shut their shutters. Guilt ran through each one of us as we entered the town, feeling like we failed them.
Doc Roe shouted, "Bring the wounded over here! We'll get them looked at before sending them back to England!" The men around him followed the order and all of our casualties were ushered to a secluded area off to the side of the town. I headed over to help.
Once I arrived at our little makeshift aid station, I set to work cleaning up the numerous wounds the men had endured during that battle, many of them were shrapnel wounds. I kept an eye out for the men who helped me with the legless tank gunner but I didn't see them anywhere. It added to my guilt to think they died trying to help me.
Laughing echoed across the square, cutting through the heavy silence looming over the morose evening. Briefly looking over my shoulder, I noticed Strayer and some of his officers from Battalion walking into the square. They approached Winters, still laughing, joking, and drinking from their new steins. Strayer looked at Winters, suppressing his laughter long enough to ask, "How'd it go today, Winters?"
I could see Winters shift in his spot, balling his fists with anger. I had never seen him display any form of frustration or anger before today. To his credit, he spoke professionally, "I had fifteen casualties today and took a hell of a licking."
The laughter ceased. Strayer and the other officers' faces fell as the realization of how serious it had been for us washed over their inebriated state. It wasn't until after Winters spoke, they glanced around, taking a look for themselves at how bad it truly was.
After noticing our state, Strayer sobered up immediately to discuss the details with Winters. I turned my attention back to the wounded man I was caring for. He had a large piece of shrapnel to the wrist, which he managed to bandage up but it was still bleeding profusely when I took the wrap off. My eyes darted about the open wound as I asked, "Tank?"
He grimaced as I began cleaning it up. "Yeah. I was pretty close to it when it got hit."
I nodded as I recalled the chaos. "You're lucky you bandaged it up when you did."
"Still feels like something's in there," he confessed through gritted teeth, "hurts like a..." he paused as his eyes lifted to meet mine.
"Like a bitch?" I finished his sentence for him.
He smiled briefly, nodding in agreement. "Yes, ma'am."
Taking a closer look, I could make out a quarter-sized piece of metal barely sticking out of the bloody mess. I missed it the first time because the pooling blood covered it up. "I'm glad you said something," I told him, "There is a piece still in there." I grabbed the tweezers from my kit. I looked up at him before saying, "This is going to hurt. Are you ready?"
