And he would prefer not the medical ones.
Duncan worked his way to where H.J. and Bud Helliwell lay side by side.
Gibbons was bent over Ensign Helliwell, redressing his wounds. H. J.“s shoulder wound had been bandaged. Her cammie shirt, partially unbuttoned, exposed a bloody cleavage. Part of the shirt had one side taped up.
Gibbons finished swabbing an antibiotic solution on Ensign Helliwell’s arm wounds. He ripped open a wide-gauge bandage pack and began to wrap it around the shoulder in such a way as to cover the cleansed wound.
H. J.“s eyes were shut. Bud watched Gibbons closely as he finished the bandaging.
“How you doing, Bud?” Duncan asked Helliwell.
“I am getting fed up, Captain. Every time I go on a mission I wind up shot. I don’t like it. It’s beginning to piss me off. I was shot when I was a first class in the Middle East. I was shot as a senior chief in Liberia during the African Wars. And now that I’m an officer, I’m shot again. Shit, Captain, I thought officers didn’t get shot.
Guess I should have read your medals better.” Bud raised his right arm. “One good thing, at least I’m right-handed.” Duncan smiled.
“How’s the lieutenant?” Duncan asked Gibbons.
“Could be a serious wound, Captain. Biggest challenge is to keep it from becoming infected. Other than that, she should pull through.
Bullet went clean through and, from where it hit, I’d say she may have a broken collarbone, but with the swelling, I can’t tell. Luckily, the bullet missed her arteries.” “Okay,” Duncan said. “Button up her shirt when you finish.”
The truck hit a series of holes, tossing everyone around the bed of the truck. H.J. moaned and her eyes opened.
“H. J.” how do you feel?”
“Like shit,” she said softly, her eyes half-open. “So this is combat?
It’s almost as bad as a sale day at Macy’s.”
“It isn’t pleasant, but Bud is a better authority on that than me. You need to rest.” They hit another pothole. “As much as possible. I don’t know how long it’ll be before we’re far enough away so we can slow down. I’ll talk with you later.”
“And I don’t have a broken collarbone. At least, I don’t think so.”
“Good.”
Duncan made his way to where Colonel Yosef squatted on his haunches.
H.J. turned her head toward her wounded companion. “What’s the matter, Ensign. Can’t let a woman get wounded without you copying her?” The truck bounced. She grimaced as a wave of pain sent dots of light dancing across her vision.
“There, sir. That should hold you,” Gibbons said.
The bandage ran from Bud’s shoulder past the elbow to where Gibbons had taped it down by tying it around the wrist. The slight wounds on the back of the hand had stopped bleeding so Gibbons left them uncovered.
“Don’t let the flies settle,” Gibbons warned Helliwell, pointing to the arm. “Are you sure it’s not broken?”
“Thanks, Gibbons. I’m okay,” Bud said. Yeah, it was broken, but they had more important things to worry about than a simple fracture. The bandages would hold the arm steady, and besides, he’d been around long enough to know that since he could still move his fingers, the break wasn’t a serious one.
Gibbons grinned. “No sweat, sir. Just in a day’s work.”
When he finished buttoning up H. J.“s shirt and adjusting it so it wouldn’t dislodge the bandages, Gibbons stood and fought the movement of the truck to where Monkey stood watch.
“How many bullets you take?” H.J. asked Helliwell weakly.
“None. I didn’t roll far enough away from a damn grenade.”
“Shit, John. You could have been killed.”
“Yeah. And I would have been, too, if the manager of Kmart hadn’t come out and unplugged that thing.”
She grinned.
Helliwell smiled. “That’s what makes being a SEAL so much fun. You never know when you’re going to leave a lot of creditors upset. Just think, Lieutenant, many SEALs go their entire career without getting shot. You manage it in your first mission. There’s going to be a lot of jealous shipmates when we get back, ma’am.”
“we get back,” she corrected.
“Never ‘if,” ma’am. It’s always ‘when.””
“Quit calling me ma’am, I’m not your mom, John. Call me, H.J. I think that being wounded together gives us something in common.”
Helliwell reached over and squeezed her hand. She weakly returned the gesture. “Don’t think this means we’re engaged or anything,” he said, smiling.
“Not even a casual relationship?” she asked, her voice trailing off.
HJ.‘s eyelids fluttered and then closed.
“Not yet, and besides, only my parents call me John. Call me Bud, like everyone else,” he said. Several seconds passed.
“Get some rest, H.J. You did an excellent job. I’m proud to call you a Navy SEAL.”
“That’s not what you said aboard ship,” she slurred, her eyes closed.
Bud started to apologize, but saw her shut eyes, and watched quietly as her breathing slowed and she slid into unconsciousness. The truck hit another series of rough spots, bouncing everyone around. She slept through the tumble. Bud hoped they got back soon. He’d seen what wounds like hers could become without proper treatment — blood poisoning, gangrene, and a slow, painful death.
Beau slid in beside Duncan as Yosef moved off to check on his men.
“Where to now, Boss?” Beau asked.
“We’ve got to get out of this country.”
“No argument from me on that score. Do you have a plan?”
Duncan nodded. “I’ve discussed it with Colonel Yosef and he agrees. We are going to have to return to the coast. Our only chance lies in getting out to sea where Sixth Fleet can pick us up.”
Beau nodded, and then leaned close to Duncan and whispered, “I don’t understand why they didn’t kill her.”
“Think about it, Beau. The fight wouldn’t have lasted forever.”
The armored car screeched to a halt at the petrol station. Algerian rebels pushed and shoved as they crowded into the cramped spaces of the military vehicle.
Ten minutes later the armored car took off in pursuit. The rebel captain, confident they would soon overtake the old truck, screamed into the radio, trying to establish contact with Algiers. He threw the microphone against the dashboard in frustration when no answer came immediately. President Al neuf had been recognized.
CHAPTER 11
“Mr. President, ” Franco Donelli said. “If you want to talk with Ambassador Cannets while the Algerian ambassador is giving his address, we have a direct phone line at the United Nations up and running.” He pointed to the red phone between them. “It’s a secure line.”
“Thanks, Franco,” Crawford replied as he picked up the phone. “Alex, you there?”
A voice on the other end answered.
“Can you put him on, please,” the president replied. He put his hand over the mouthpiece. “Franco, are we watching C SPAN or CNN on the wide screen?”
“It’s the State Department’s camera, Mr. President.”
The president uncovered the mouthpiece. “Alex, old friend, this is President Crawford. Has there been a pre release of his speech yet?”
“No, sir, Mr. President. But I did speak with the new ambassador late last night, as you directed. A debrief was sent via classified e-mail to Washington earlier today. I was very adamant, nearly to the point of threatening, when I demanded the safe conduct of American and Western citizens out of the black hole of Algiers. I was surprised by his reac lion. He seemed almost apologetic; very receptive, but he never actually apologized. He promised to personally expedite their departure. Further, he assured me of their safety and security. We were interrupted several times by others, but he said that our concerns were being blown out of proportion to events in Algiers. Even so, he promised to resolve our concerns.”