Major Kimsey called the tower to report himself eight minutes out. This time the communications were distinct and clear; he was told that the hangar would be opened as soon as he was down and that the ambulance, with Dr. Markley, was waiting inside. The base was approaching Phase Two status. The controller gave him clearance direct to the hangar, then he alerted the fire and crash equipment, telling them the approach the helicopter was going to take.
At four minutes before the ETA, the emergency equipment rolled into position on each side of the hangar doors, out of the way but ready to respond immediately if necessary. Eighty seconds later the landing lights of the incoming aircraft could be seen.
It was almost over then, but the very last part could be the worst. Major Kimsey flew directly across the field at two hundred feet, slowed, and began to let down. For a moment the helicopter almost broke out of control, then it straightened and kept up its angle of descent. Six feet above the ramp it went into hover; fighting the heavy wind, it eased down, and then dropped onto the ramp. As soon as the wheels had hit the concrete, a dozen parka-clad men ran to help control it on the ground. The aircraft turned and then headed toward the bright welcoming lights less than a hundred and fifty feet away. The major cut the turbines to idle and let the rotors slow down as the ground crew pushed his aircraft forward. As the wheels crossed the threshold of the hangar, he shut the turbines down and applied the main rotor brake.
Sergeant Prevost dropped the rear ramp and the doctor came aboard. Under his direction the litter was moved to the ambulance; the patient was on her way to the hospital very shortly thereafter.
Since their part was now over, the men of Det. 4 took time to catch up with themselves. Major Dashner was installed in a deep, comfortable chair where she could remain perfectly stitt — the most effective relief she could have. Ferguson followed her example; it had been a very rough ride and he was ready for a little peace and quiet himself.
Dick Mulder met Kimsey as he came off the aircraft. “How was it?” he asked.
“We went and we came back — that’s about it.”
Bob Seligman deplaned and headed for the latrine. He had taken a considerable beating too; it had not been easy in the cockpit.
In the hospital, little Bebiane Jeremiassen, undergoing careful examination, lay very still on the table in one of the two operating rooms. Captain Markley, the internist, was working over her while Captain Bowditch, the surgeon, stood by to suture her wounds. Both available nurses were on hand to assist.
“I don’t like this,” Markley said. “I understood that she had been attacked early this evening in Kanak. Apparently that isn’t the case. I think we should try to raise Dr. Pedersen and get a fuller history.”
At that moment there was a tap on the door. That was most unusual; the operating areas were kept immaculately clean and no outside personnel were admitted. One of the nurses responded and came back with an envelope. “Sergeant Prevost brought this,” she said. “It’s from Dr. Pedersen; they forgot to give it to you in the hangar.”
Markley tore it open quickly and began to read. As he did so, added evidence of concern shadowed his smooth, youthful face. “Here’s the answer,” he said. “She was hurt more than three days ago when she was out with her family at a hunting camp. They brought her in the best way they could, but Pedersen didn’t see her until earlier tonight. Apparently she also had some sort of mishap on the way — that would account for the fresh bleeding.”
He read on before he continued. “Pedersen is very concerned about rabies, of course. Besides the face, she was bitten in two other places.”
“Did he give her a Pasteur shot?”
Markley nodded. “Yes, and we’ll continue the series, of course, but that three-day interval before she was treated has got me scared.”
Bowditch saw no reason not to state it plainly. “With a bite on the face, that close to the brain, the incubation could be fairly rapid, too. And I don’t see any way to get the head of the dog for lab work. They may not know which one it was that actually bit her.”
“There may have been more than one, since there was a pack. Bob, I think we’ll have to assume that the animal was rabid, since sixty percent of them are. Go ahead and get those lacerations cleaned up, irrigated, and sutured. Meanwhile, I’ll try to get her stabilized.”
“Right.” Bowditch began his careful, skilled work while his patient was still well under the merciful influence of the Demerol. For close to an hour he repaired the damage as continuous information on her vital signs was supplied to him. When he had done everything that he could at that stage, he emerged from the operating room to find Colonel Kleckner waiting outside. Scott Ferguson was there too, and three of the men from Det. 4.
Bowditch dropped into a chair and removed his surgeon’s mask so that he could talk more easily. Like Ferguson, he was also a very young man, slender almost to the point of being lean, but he knew his profession and he had the hands to practice it. “I’m damn glad that you got her in here tonight,” he said. “If you hadn’t, it might have been a lot worse. I’ve just cleaned up all of the lacerations. At her age, and in her general physical condition, they shouldn’t cause too many problems.”
“How about rabies?” the colonel asked.
“The question is whether Dr. Pedersen saw her in time. She was bitten on the face more than three days ago, which may have injected the virus very close to the brain. Frankly, Herb and I are very worried about that.”
“If she has it, what are her chances?” Ferguson asked.
“To be honest, very poor. Rabies in humans has always been considered to be a hundred percent fatal, but there is a treatment now and a recovery was reported in 1971. We’re going to give it everything we’ve got.”
The colonel was visibly concerned. “How about it, Bob, are we equipped to use that procedure here if it becomes necessary? If not, the moment the weather permits I’ll have her transported in the C-130 to any facility you specify.”
Ferguson didn’t wait to let the surgeon answer. “If it’s critical, we can get out of here tonight. We have the range to clear this storm and lift her directly to Walter Reed or wherever you say. Shall we get ready?”
Bowditch quickly shook his head. “I don’t think she should be moved, and we have almost everything here. We’re going to watch her on a minute-by-minute basis; if she shows any signs of going into fasciculation, then I’m sure that Herb will immobilize her. If it gets that far, then our respirator won’t be adequate; we’ll have to have a Bennett MA-1. They’ve got one at Dronning Ingrid’s Hospital in Godthaab. We can ask for it along with a catastrophic team; there’ll be time enough for that.”
“Will they respond?” the colonel asked.
“Absolutely. The patient is a Greenlander, which means a lot to them. But they would come anyway.”
Throughout the rest of the night an intense watch was kept over the tiny Eskimo girl; Markley broke his sleep three times to check on her condition and to instruct Captain Debra Lyons, who was continuously at her bedside. Fortunately, the only other patient in the hospital was an Army man recuperating from a cracked rib, and his condition imposed no problems.
At 1100 hours the following morning Linda Dashner, who had taken over from the night nurse, noticed that her patient coughed twice within five minutes. Normally that would not have unduly concerned her, but because she knew exactly what to watch for, she called the doctor.
Markley responded quickly and examined Bebiane’s throat for visible evidence of soreness. “I’ve got to talk to her,” he said. “Some of the Danes here can speak Eskimo; I need one as soon as possible. Commander Kure will know.”