Hale nodded and said, “Yes. I’ve been stabbed in the shoulder.”
The nurse wore a mink coat that would have been the height of fashion in London or New York. Here, amidst the forest that was home to the animals harvested for the pelts to make the coat, it was a common sensible garment for anyone to wear in the cold. She looked him up and down. Quickly noticing the tear and flecks of red on his coat, “Pull your coat off that shoulder so I can see.” She asked.
Hale, was taken aback by the business-like attitude of the woman. She was the first female he had seen since Oda, had tried to teach him some Russian a few months back. Irritated by her cold brusqueness, the young woman, pushed a blond lock of hair from her face with her left hand and said, “Don’t stand there with a stupid look on your face. You’re taking me away from these dying men.”
Hale mumbled an apology and exposed his injured shoulder to the poking and prodding that was sure to come. He wasn’t disappointed, “Ouch!” He exclaimed.
The nurse flashed him a look of apology, “It’s not infected. You’re lucky.”
“How does being stabbed, poked and prodded make me lucky?” Hale asked.
“Because it looks like this wound has been reopened several times. Why didn’t you seek help sooner?” The nurse admonished.
“I’m sorry, I was a bit busy killing the monsters that have invaded our country.” Hale replied gruffly.
The nurse flashed Hale a smile, “Sorry, I feel like we got off on the wrong foot. My name is Tora.”
“Hale.”
“Well Hale, head on into the tent and get warmed up. Try not to disturb the doctor, he is in the middle of an operation. When he finishes he’ll take a look at you.” Tora said.
Hale relaxed, “Thanks Tora.”
The two shared a long gaze. Hale lost himself in her ice blue eyes for a long moment before she looked away her cheeks turning crimson, “I’ve got to get back to my patients.”
“Of course.” Hale replied politely.
Hale walked over to the entrance of the tent and pulled a flap back to enter. A wall of warm air hit him as he stepped into the surprisingly brightly lit interior of the aid tent. At least a dozen lanterns hung from the ceiling brightly lighting the room. It took a few seconds for the shift in temperature register, then the stench hit him. The stink of the place overwhelmed him. Looking down he saw the floor was covered in blood and bits of. The thought abruptly cut off as he inwardly shuddered.
Hale looked up and saw two figures. In the middle of the tent was a man in a red stained lab coat. Next to him, a woman, wore a blood-stained apron. Hale’s eyes immediately went to her dress underneath the apron. It was form fitting and complimented her figure. The woman, a nurse presumably, stood beside the man and held the tray up where he could easily reach it.
The man in the white lab coat, was using a metal instrument that resembled a large pair of tweezers. Using the tweezers, he pulled a piece of shrapnel from a grisly wound in the gut that the poor unfortunate on the table had. The man in the white lab coat, presumably the doctor, didn’t turn to look as he released the shrapnel into a small metal bowl on the tray.
The nurse, had calmly shifted her tray, so that the metal bowl was underneath the Doctor’s hand, when he released the shrapnel. The tiny piece of metal made a faint tinkling noise as it landed in the bowl.
“I think that’s the last of it. Let’s close him up.” The doctor said.
The nurse set the tray she had been holding on a table behind her, and picked up another tray. This one was covered by neatly arranged rows of instruments. The Doctor turned to look at the tray. For a moment his gaze met Hale’s. Ignoring the young sniper, he selected two items. The first looked to be a needle and thread. The second item was a small packet. Satisfied he had what he needed, he turned back to the injured soldier on the operating table.
The Doctor worked quickly on the unconscious man as the nurse looked on. Hale seeing an unoccupied chair by the wood burning stove that kept the tent warm, walked over to it. Wanting to sit, he removed the two weapons from his back, and sat down in it. He let out a small gasp of pleasure as his exhausted body was finally able to relax.
As the Doctor worked, Hale slowly warmed up. As he did so, he removed his white great coat, then his pants. Underneath was several layers of garments that had helped keep him warm in the subzero temperatures. He glanced at his shoulder. Through several layers of torn shirts, he could see the wound slowly oozed blood. The skin on the edge of the wound had a very angry looking red cast too it.
As the Doctor finished up, a truck pulled up outside. Two men entered, like the medic that had directed Hale to this tent, they were dressed in the gray uniform of Finland and sported white arm bands with a red cross. The Doctor turned to the two men and said, “Good timing, I just finished up with him. You can go ahead and load him into the truck. Don’t leave before I’ve had a chance to look at the Private sitting by the stove. I think he’ll be joining you.”
The two men stiffened to attention and said, “Yes sir.”
“You know I don’t like that yes sir crap.” The doctor admonished, “I’m a healer not a damned pretentious ass with a command stick shoved up his ass.”
Hale, unable to stop himself, laughed loudly at the Doctor’s words. Those sharp eyes immediately fell on him again. Noticing that Hale was not wearing a uniform underneath his clothing, the man said, “What seems to be the issue?” He paused for a long moment before adding questioningly, “Private?”
“Private would be correct sir. I’m not regular army. Just a volunteer reservist trying to keep my home safe. There isn’t enough uniforms to go around for everyone, since I usually work along I don’t need one.” Hale noticed the blank look on the Doctor’s face as the exhausted man waited for Hale to get to the point, “It’s my shoulder sir, I was stabbed a few days ago.”
“I see. Out on a mission?” The Doctor inquired.
“Yes sir.” Hale replied.
“Like I was telling these two.” The doctor gestured toward the two orderlies who were busy removing the patient to their truck, I’m a healer not one of these damned pompous asses that need their boots licked every morning to feel good about themselves.” He paused to take a deep breath and let it out slowly before adding, “Call me Gar.”
Hale laughed at the Doctor’s words and said, “Well met Gar. My name is Hale.”
“Let me get a look at that shoulder. Take off all those shirts.” Gar ordered.
Hale nodded in acknowledgement of the Doctor’s request and took off his shits. He started with the baggy woolen sweater his mom had knit him. She had spun the wool their flock of sheep had provided into thread and painstakingly knit the sweater over the course of many days. Seeing his mom’s beautiful creation torn and bloody, made Hale’s heart ache.
Next was another sweater, this one was tighter and more form fitting than the one his mom had knit. It has been purchased through a catalog from a department store in Helsinki. Hale couldn’t remember which one. Next, was a button-down flannel shirt. Unlike the two sweaters, he was able to remove this one without wincing. Underneath this shirt, was a white undershirt. It had been stained with the sweat from his numerous exertions over the last several days and of course blood.
He stifled a cry as he removed the tight form fitting shirt, and then looked up at Gar. The older man met his gaze, his eyes full of reassurance. The Doctor, took a step forward and stared down into the wound. He poked and prodded the wound eliciting several gasps of pain from Hale.