War Torn

The stretcher was red, painted with Jamie’s blood. Two medics seized it and were almost immediately working with a tourniquet and dressings along his left side, where his arm and his leg should have been, except there wasn’t an arm and there wasn’t much of a leg and Dave wasn’t even sure there was a lot of left side.‘Jamie, Jamie, the fucking bastards got you again – they got you again! Don’t let them finish the job this time! Come on, Jamie, for Chrissake!’ Whose voice was that? His own?He wanted Jamie to open his eyes. He wanted it with a desperation that took over his whole mind and whole body as if he could will Jamie’s eyes to open if he wanted it hard enough. He was Jamie’s sergeant. Now he was ordering him to live.‘It’s not over till it’s over,’ said one of the medics, without looking up, as he reached for another bandage.Dave was certain it would soon be over but he refused to look at that certainty. He clung to the medic’s words instead. His hand held Jamie’s wrist and searched for a pulse. He couldn’t feel one.‘It’s there but it’s very, very faint,’ said a medic. ‘Did you see what happened?’‘RPG. Went straight through him.’‘No one can survive that,’ said Iain Kila.‘It didn’t detonate,’ Dave said.‘Well, fuck me!’ said Kila.‘It certainly touched him but it went straight on and then hit some rocks about thirty metres later.’‘He’s in with a chance, then.’‘This man survived a round from an AK, he survived a round from a machine gun . . .’The other medic said: ‘The grenade sliced his left side off but there’s a chance it missed his vital organs. He must have been squatting over the gimpy because it went through the top of his leg and the bottom of his arm. But he can live without an arm and a leg . . .’‘A few centimetres further left and he’d certainly be dead,’ said the other.‘MERT will be here in four more minutes,’ reported Kila. ‘He’ll be at Bastion inside the golden hour.’Dave leaned over the stretcher, looking at the unmoving face.He tried to imagine Jamie without an arm, a leg and God knew what other body parts. Always trying to hide the pain. Making the best of it. Loving Agnieszka as she pushed him around in a wheelchair. Some people can live like that, Dave thought. But Jamie can’t.If Jamie heard what the medic just said, then he can hear me now.Dave moved close to the thin face. Eyes closed, it showed no pain. He grasped the still fingers.‘Shit, Jamie Dermott,’ he said softly. ‘You’re the last man I can afford to lose. But I know that you’re a soldier through and through. And, Jamie, you’re the best. You’ve lost half your body. But you could never be half a soldier. I understand if you want to go now. So go, if you must, mate. You’ve done a great job soldiering. You’ve got a lovely kid. You’ve got a wife who does truly love you – I know that for a fact, whatever you think. So, if you want to, go peacefully. Good luck. I’ll never forget you.’Of course Jamie did not respond. He couldn’t.‘Not looking good!’ said one of the medics suddenly.‘Are we losing him?’‘Can’t be . . . but we are.’Dave closed his eyes and fell back to let the medics do their work.‘No! No way!’‘See for yourself!’‘Shit! I thought we had him!’‘Resuscitate.’‘Clear, everyone, please.’Dave turned his back, walked away and stared out at the endless expanse of desert. His face stung. His eyes stung. Sand in his mouth, sand in his eyes, sand in his heart.