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Disclaimer - stories fun, me broke.
Warning - just the usual sad drama those who know me have come to expect.
Note - this was originally intended to be Hawkeye POV, but I guess you could
say this is any one of the doctors (or nurses for that matter)
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Of the Innocent
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Babies full of shrapnel, emptied of It.
Fields littered with bodies, soaked with It.
My hands, never clean, covered in It.
Fear. Death. Guilt.
What comes to mind when you think of blood?
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Blood. A simple word. A simple concept. A fluid collection of cells and proteins
vital for animal survival. Survival being dependant upon blood, and
unfortunately, sometimes the spilling of others'.
War, it seems, is out for blood. A blood thirsty force driving boys to their graves.
A nameless dread making blood boil and gush, inciting blood lust,
indiscriminately taking lives.
It makes my blood run cold to think of the death, the blood spilt, all in the name
of peace. Peace through war. No, not a war, a "police action". A blood feud in
a country divided.
It's my job, (my gift, my curse) to stop the blood. To sew it back in, to make it stay
there. Young blood, blue blood, red blood, life's blood. Most often innocent blood.
So much blood.
Blood that somehow in Korea is thinner than water; water being the only thing
binding together our motley group of doctors, nurses and soldiers. But then again,
speaking literally, we're all united under the banner of blood. Blood brothers and
sisters joined by an oath we didn't have a choice in.
I do my best, we do our best. But no matter what we do, it's never enough. The
war marches on, the bodies keep coming, the blood doesn't stop.
The blood never stops.
Oh, it pauses sometimes, allowing us to become lulled into a false sense of
accomplishment, of security, but it never really stops. How can it?
I've sometimes wondered at the idea of redemption through blood. Christ's blood.
Innocent blood. Shed to cleanse our sins, yet spilled each day anew as we shed
each other's. Will it ever end?
Will it never end.
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Shrapnel. Bodies. Blood.
Fear. Death. Guilt.
What comes to mind when you think of blood?
-End
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