Page 2 of The Long Walk Back

Kate threw the phone into her bag, grabbed her scrubs after throwing her clothes onto her cot bed and got herself ready in record time. Grabbing her kit, she raced to follow Trevor to the hospital tent nearby. She covered her eyes as best she could from the dust that the incoming helicopter kicked up in the sandy dirt that their medical camp was perched on.

Doing a three-month stint with the Red Cross as a trauma surgeon was not for the faint-hearted, but Kate Harper loved every bloody minute of it. She had two weeks left, and although she missed her boy dearly, she knew that going home to her usual hospital job would be an adjustment. Not as much as it would be going home to Neil, her husband of seven years. She had to admit to herself, the distance between them lately mounted up to more than miles, and she didn’t quite know what to do about it. Well, that wasn’t true. She knew what to do, but the thought of having to face her son and tell him his parents were better off apart made her shudder. She was used to overcoming trauma, not inflicting it. Especially not to her favourite person in the world. The thought of seeing Neil again, having that talk, filled her with anxiety. She knew that this trip hadn’t been the only cause that changed something between them, but it had stretched the elastic of their relationship so thin it was essentially broken. She wasn’t sure it could ever be fixed. Being here, with time away and perspective to think had served to confirm that she didn’t want to. She didn’t miss him. There was no longing for him. She couldn’t remember a time she had. Their relationship wasn’t one borne out of passion. Practicality more like. Not exactly the stuff of love stories. Coming to a battlefield, she’d realised that not only had she left one at home, but she felt more herself away from her other half. The silent recriminations between them that hung like axes in the air, just waiting to drop and finally cleave them apart. Something that the distance and circumstance was doing a good job of already.

Being here was a very different kind of working away. Their phone calls were always snatched seconds. When she did get time to call, the signal often dropped, leaving them to play frustrated phone tag with each other. When he was away for work at conferences, they could chat leisurely, not that they had for a long time. Him from his safe snug hotel room at the side of some motorway. Her from their bed, with their son sleeping soundly nearby. Not that it would have helped. Their conversations back then still only consisted of errands to run, Jamie’s school day, their workdays. The logistics of their married life together. Here, the calls were clipped, short. Checking in. Are you and Jamie okay? Is it bad there? She couldn’t talk about her day. What would she tell him? All about the lives she saved? The ones she lost? She didn’t want to think about them, let alone try to form words, to explain them to a man who worked in a safe office all day, watching the clock for meeting times, not for giving time of death. It narrowed their conversation topics to near nothing. She couldn’t help but feel mad if he moaned about his day, about things that Kate had already realised didn’t matter in the grand scheme. Neil got mad that she was so closed off and cagey about her life there. Other times she could feel the resentment in his voice, as though she were away on a girly holiday and he had been left holding the pre-teen. They could fill a book with everything they couldn’t say. She couldn’t remember the last time she had told him she loved him – or felt it. The wind picked up, jolting her back to where she could help. She pushed her marriage to the back of her mind, she had to work now. Some puzzles were easier to solve than others.

The chopper landed, the metal glinting in the early morning scorch of the sun. Kate grabbed her hair, pulling it tighter into her ponytail, and raced to meet the stretcher. She snapped a pair of gloves on as she ran, though she wasn’t sure how sterile they would be given the sand flying around. Her colleagues at home would balk at some of the makeshift operations set up in these tents. The medicine was the key though, patching people up, getting them home. The rest was done as best they could under the circumstances. It wasn’t all pretty and clean here. In this environment, fighting death was bloody, messy and fast. Split second decisions were crucial.

‘What do we have?’

‘My Captain,’ a hulking man jumped out, addressing her in clipped, terse tones. ‘It’s bad, Doc, you gotta save him.’ A wiry scrap of a boy was wrapped in a blanket in his bulky arms, his little fingers gripping the emblem on the man’s uniform as he looked at her, wide eyed. Sniper.

‘Whose child is this?’ She asked, seeing there were no other civilians with them. Just a gurney bearing a man who looked like he’d been ripped apart. Her eyes flicked away from the body bag she saw in the back. Focus on the living.

‘We don’t know, insurgents were using him as a shield. He’s not injured.’ The man shot back, moving out of the way as his captain was brought out. ‘Captain made the call to save him, bastards had us before we knew it.’ The boy whimpered in his arms, and he lowered his voice to a dull roar. ‘He can’t die, you hear me?’

Kate didn’t reply, turning to the army medic pulling the patient out on the gurney, keeping his head dipped below the spinning chopper blades. ‘Run it down for me.’ Shorthand for their kind of patient handover.

‘One dead in the field, two injured; one in the other chopper incoming. This one is Captain Thomas Cooper, his unit was ambushed. Multiple injuries, IED, left leg. Flatlined twice on the way here, his vitals are shot. He has shrapnel injuries to his leg and torso; he hasn’t been conscious since we got him out of there.’ The medic glanced across at her. ‘We need to move fast.’ Kate nodded, running alongside the trolley as they raced for the trauma tent.

‘What meds has he had?’

‘We started him on a course of strong antibiotics and 10mg of morphine. We had no time for anything else, we had to get him out of there.’

It didn’t look good. Captain Cooper’s eyes fluttered, and Kate noticed what a beautiful shade of green they were, the contrast made all the starker against his deathly pale skin and blood-splattered face.

His lips moved, but she couldn’t make out the rasping sounds he tried to form.

‘Captain.’ She leaned closer. ‘Try not to speak. We got you.’

His pupils were wide, darkness against the emerald green surrounding them. He grabbed at the bottom hem of her top with a shaky hand, and when she reached for it, his fingers locked around hers. Gripping her tight. His hand was huge, dwarfing hers in its grasp. She waited for the pain of his panicked hold, but it was gentle, insistent.

‘No.’ He tried to shake his head. ‘Leave me.’ He coughed, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. ‘Kid… rooftop. Save… him.’ His eyes grew less focused, glassy. ‘Smithy…’ He lost the fight for consciousness.

‘Move!’ Kate boomed. ‘Faster!’ His grip didn’t leave her, and she held his hand, gripping the gurney and running flat out. They raced into the tent, transferring him from the stretcher to one of the hospital treatment tables. He never made a murmur. Resting his hand by his side, Kate grabbed a pair of scissors from her kit and cut away the remnants of his trousers, showing torn black boxers underneath. His left leg was a bloody mess. They had to stop the bleeding, or he would lose his life too. Looking at his right leg, she saw shrapnel protruding from his bloody wounds. These were comparatively superficial wounds; had he not been running flat out, she surmised that both legs would have hit the homemade bomb and been in the same state. The only reason this soldier had any leg at all was the position of his running body as the blast hit. She got to work, barking out orders to the staff running around the bed next to her. The whole tent was a hive of activity, and Kate blocked the noises out. The sniper was trying to push his way through, another soldier holding him back. Shouting at him to keep it together. Let them work. She switched it all off, focused on what was in front of her.

On her first week here, she had been useless. She was no stranger to traumatic injuries, but the relative silence of the wards and operating rooms back home was a world apart from the sounds that surrounded her on a daily basis now. Strapping grown men, screaming, calling for their mothers, their wives, their gods. Helicopters and the booming sounds of bombs nearby, gunfire in the distance. All of these sounds had taken some adjustment, but now she tuned them out, was able to concentrate on what her colleagues were saying, the heart sounds she listened to in damaged chests, the gurgles and moans from the bodies she tended to. Kate ran over to Trevor, who’d just run in with the other chopper casualty.

‘The captain’s not looking good. We need to stop the bleeders in his chest and right leg too. He’s lost a lot of blood. You got this?’

Trevor nodded, working fast as he listened to his colleague and one-time student.

‘I’m good.’ As she turned to run back, he shouted after her.

‘Kate, save him if you can. He saved two others in the field, his troop only made it out because of his actions. He made a difficult call, saving the kid too. Only one of his men died, and he will be angry enough about that when he comes to. It could have been a bloodbath. The guy was bleeding out and he still gave the order to get the boy from the rooftop the second his team got to him, they defied his order to leave him in the field. If it was up to him, he wouldn’t have been here, with a chance. We owe it to him to get him through this.’

Kate ignored the slab of thick tension that nestled in her throat. ‘Roger that.’

‘They used a kid as a human shield, Kate. An innocent fucking child. No one else gets to die today.’ Kate looked at Cooper as she worked to stem the bleeding. She thought of her earlier phone call with her son. Worrying about him missing football practice, whether he had eaten breakfast. A world away from being used as a weapon in a war he didn’t cause or belong in. A mother had almost lost her child today. Thanks to this man, he was here. Safe. The army could get him out of there, out of this. Wouldn’t she want the same if her child was out there? It made her speed up. Every second mattered, and she vowed to give the battle-ravaged man more time on this earth, no matter what.

‘Sniper,’ she called to the man still trying to force his way through to the captain.

‘They call me Hightower, ma’am.’ Addressing him had stilled him momentarily in his efforts to get across the room.

‘Yeah, well no one calls me that, Hightower. Doctor, usually, or Kate.’ He clenched his jaw, giving her a slow acknowledging nod. ‘I got this, okay?’ She looked him dead in the eye. ‘I am going to save your captain, so stand down. Take the child to be checked over in the triage tent.’ When he didn’t move, she levelled him with a stare. ‘Now, Hightower. Go.’

When he left the tent, Trevor shot her a grateful look.

‘Glad you’re here, badass. You heard her, team! No one else is dying today. Get to it.’

---