Part 34 (1/2)

She looked down at Lieutenant Lowell.

”Relax,” she said. ”I just did that to get him off your back about the gun. How do you feel?”

”s.h.i.+tty ,” he said, ”now that you've asked.”

”I'm going to give you a bath anyhow,” the nurse said.

”Was.h.i.+ng your mouth out won't be much extra work.”

”Sorry,” he said.

The elevator stopped and the door whooshed open.

”What happens now?” Lowell asked, as they rolled down another corridor.

”Well, the first thing we're going to do is get that cruddy uniform off you,” she said. ”And give you a bath. And pump some blood in you.”

”I'm hungry,” he said.

”And then we'll see what else you need,” she said.

”You're not going to knock me out,” he said.

”We won't? Get this straight, Sonny boy, I'll do whatever I d.a.m.ned well please to you.”

”I'm not going to let you knock me out and grab the pistol,” he said.

”What's with that pistol, anyway?” she asked.

”It saved my a.s.s, and I intend to keep it,” he said.

She looked down at him with surprise in her eyes, but said nothing. The cart was rolled into a private room. The orderlies moved him from the cart onto the bed. She saw his face go white from the pain.

”We'll just cut that jacket off,” she said to him. ”It won't hurt that way.”

”I want the jacket, too,” he said.

I want the jacket and the pistol. The rest of it you can have.”

What she should do, she knew, was give him something to knock him out. And cut his clothes off, and give him a bath, and take the pistol. He was probably going right up to the OR anyway.

”You've got a hard head,” she said, and bent over him and pulled the intravenous needle from the inside of his wrist. Then she reached for the holstered pistol he clutched to his breast.

”I'll put it under your mattress,” she said. The young nurse with the whole blood looked at her in surprise when she did exactly that.

”Help me to get his jacket off him,” the operating room nurse said. ”And then send for one of the Schwestem to help me undress him and give him a bath. For reasons I can't imagine, it embarra.s.ses healthy young men to be undressed by a healthy young woman.” She was pleased when the boy in the filthy, blood-soaked uniform chuckled. She wondered what had happened to him.

”Major, really,” the nurse in the crisp whites and the starched cap and the lieutenant's bar said.

”Good G.o.d,” the operating room nurse said. ”You're lousy. Where the h.e.l.l have you been, anyway?” She looked at the young nurse. ”He's going to have to be deloused before we do anything else.” The young nurse left the room. Two middle-aged German nurses, called Schwestem, sisters, came in and matter of factly, impersonally, efficiently, stripped him, deloused him, and then bathed him in alcohol. The major pulled off his bandages, looked, and put them back. The blood transfusion apparatus was hooked up again.

”You need a haircut and a shave, too,” the major said. ”But that can wait.”

”I'm hungry,” he repeated.

”If we have to put you under,” the major said, ”you'll just throw up allover the recovery room.”

”I was sewn up at Ioarmina.”

She picked up the telephone and gave a number. She asked for a colonel, and then said, ”OK,” and hung up. A few moments later, a doctor in surgical whites pushed open the door.

”I thought you were going to prep him and bring him right up.”

”It looks to me like the guy in Greece knew what he was doing,” the major said. ”I just called up to ask yon to look at him.”

”How do you feel, Son?” the doctor asked, very tenderly raising the loosened bandages and examining the sutures.

”I'm hungry,” Lowell said.

”Well, that's a good sign.”

”He was lousy,” the major said.

”I don't see any point in opening him up now,” the doctor said. ”Not until we get some X rays, anyhow. And let's get some more blood in him. Are you in pain?”

”I feel like 1 was run over by a locomotive,” Lowell said.

”What happened?”

”I forgot to duck,” Lowell said.

”Let's get some more blood in him,” the surgeon said. ”And get him something to eat. We'll have another look in the morning. I asked if you were in pain. You want something for it?”

”h.e.l.l, yes.”

The surgeon scribbled an order. He smiled down at the bed.

”You're going to be all right,” he said. ”Sore, but all right.” The ward nurse, a captain, had come into the room. The surgeon handed her the orders. The immediate care of the patient was no longer the responsibility of the operating room nurse. She left the room, and started toward the elevators. Then she changed her mind, and turned around, and walked to the kitchen.

”h.e.l.lo, Florence,” the dietician said. ”What brings you here ?”

”You got a steak in the cooler?” she asked. The dietician, a captain, raised her eyebrows. ”You're about to get an order for a high-protein, low-bulk meal for 505,” the operating room nurse said. ”505 is about thirteen years old. He came in lousy, skinny as a rail, just about out of blood, and st.i.tched up like a baseball. I figure we can do better for him than a couple of poached eggs on toast.”

”All right, Florence,” the dietician said. ”I'll see to it.”

”Thank you,” the operating room nurse said. She picked up the telephone and gave a number, and when it answered, she said, ”This is Major Horter. If anybody wants me, I'll be with the multiple shrapnel case in 505.” Major Horter walked back down the corridor to the PX refreshment stand. She reached into the flap of her operating room whites and took a dollar in script from her bra.s.siere and bought two c.o.kes from the attendant. Then she went to 505.

”Chow's on the way,” she said, handing him one of the c.o.kes.

”Thank you,” he said.