Page 19 of Healing Hazel

Hazel wiped her brow with her sleeve. Although she couldn’t understand the conversations happening around her, she could sense the apprehension the hospital staff felt about traveling in the direction of the fighting.

Their reactions surprised her—this was not so different from the rescue at the train site—but as they drew closer, the sounds of gunshots were louder, and with them yelling, and she understood their misgivings right away. The battle was still active, and they were headed directly for it.

An explosion echoed through the mountains, and Hazel instinctively ducked. One of the nurses slid off her seat, kneeling on the floor. Camila pulled her back up to sit on the bench, speaking words of comfort.

After a few more explosions, the gunshots came less frequently, and eventually, they stopped altogether.

The wagon halted. Hazel peeked out, and seeing there was no obvious danger, she climbed down. Carrying her kit, she followed the others to where Dr. Jackson and Dr. Laurent were already assisting a man with a bleeding head wound.

A woman was with him, speaking rapidly as she pointed toward the town.

Behind them, the town of Santa Rosa had suffered extensive damage in the attack. Smoke and dust hung in the air, and holes were punched through stone walls and tile roofs. Some of the buildings were nothing but a pile of rocks. Others had only a wall to mark where a structure had once stood. Loose rocks and piles of rubble blocked further passage of the wagon into town.

Dr. Jackson called Lucía over, and once she took his place, holding a cloth against the man’s head, he and Dr. Laurent came to the rest of the group. “According to this man, the Spanish Army is just over the hill, there.” He pointed past the town to a rocky hill. “They have their own medical staff and will probably not require our help, although we will provide it if needed.” He waited for Dr. Laurent to finish translating, then continued.

“The Carlist army is that way.” He pointed in the other direction. “Dr. Laurent will take his group to help the wounded fighters, and the rest of us will tend to the townspeople.”

Hazel gazed around at the destruction, and her limbs felt heavy. The silence following the battle seemed somehow more dreadful than the explosions and gunfire.

“Move with caution,” Dr. Jackson said. “There could be unexploded artillery shells. And even though some of them still stand, the integrity of the buildings’ structures may be compromised.”

He and Dr. Laurent split the group, with Dr. Laurent taking most of the medical staff. Hazel was assigned to Dr. Jackson’s smaller group; aside from herself, the doctor, and the head nurse, there were two orderlies and Camila. The two groups set off in different directions, and Dr. Jackson led his down a narrow street, passing between houses built of warm-colored bricks with tile roofs.

Hazel stayed close to Lucía and Camila.

The doctor walked ahead, arms raised, calling out in a loud voice. Hazel didn’t understand all of what he said, but she heard the wordmédico.

Lucía called out as well, but the word she used wasmedikua, which Hazel assumed was a Basque translation.

As they picked their way through the town, faces appeared at windows and heads popped up over walls. Some were accompanied by rifles.

Seeing weapons were pointed at them, Hazel grabbed on to Lucía’s hand.

Although the woman had not necessarily shown herself to be tender, she squeezed Hazel’s hand, speaking in a reassuring voice and giving a kind smile.

That, more than anything, calmed Hazel’s worries. A bit.

They came to a wide-open space that appeared to be the town square. A fountain with colorful tiles in its basin sat directly in front of a large church. The church was the largest structure in the town. Carvings of saints decorated the facade around a tall wooden door with layers of arches that drew up to a point in the center beneath a large cross. Two bell towers rose from the front corners. From what Hazel could see, the building was undamaged by the bombings.

The door opened, and a man poked his head through the crack. He stepped out wearing the robes of a priest. Sunlight shone on his bald head, and he looked around him as if he were bewildered.

Lucía released Hazel’s hand and approached. She crossed herself and knelt to kiss the priest’s hand.

He made a gesture above her head in return, looking as if he were doing so out of habit. His eyes were glazed, stunned.

Lucía spoke to him, waving for Dr. Jackson to join them.

After a moment, the priest’s facial expression cleared and his shoulders relaxed. He called out in a loud voice, speaking words Hazel could only assume were reassurances to the townspeople that the Red Cross group were there to assist the injured and were not a band of spies.

A man came from behind a crumbling wall, leading a child. The little girl held her arm tightly against her body. Another man stumbled through a doorway with blood coming from a gash in his head, and another assisted a companion as he limped forward.

Within moments, the town square became a hospital.

At Dr. Jackson’s orders, Hazel cleaned wounds, assessing whether stitches were needed, and if not, she wrapped them in bandages. Lucía stitched those that were more serious. Camila helped Dr. Jackson set broken bones, and orderlies carried patients who required more intensive treatment toward the ambulance wagons once their condition had been stabilized enough to move them.

The priest had snapped out of his daze now that he had a purpose. He moved among the injured, speaking in a calming voice. The townspeople seemed reassured by his presence, and Hazel thought he must be a very good clergyman to provide such comfort to his flock.

They all worked quickly, and in spite of the cool mountain air, the hair at the back of Hazel’s neck was soon damp.

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