Sweat poured into Jeff's eyes as he shakily began reloading his carbine. He was reaching for the ramrod when suddenly the sharp sting of a well-aimed bullet exploded into his stomach, curling his spine grotesquely. Pain like liquid fire poured into his sides and back and pounded in his stomach, knocking him gasping to his knees. Hardly able to breathe, he struggled against hysteria as his muscles twitched and shivered, blood gushing from his wound with every painful beat of his terrified heart. Thud! Jeff heard rather than felt the second bullet hit his swaying body. His right hand instinctively reached for his left shoulder, where the pain was started to grow and pulse. He blinked rapidly, fighting for consciousness. Blood filled his mouth and the world tilted and swam as vivid colors flashed before his rolling eyes. His body numbed from the intense, tearing pain and he fell senseless into a nearby ditch, surrounded by the dead bodies of his comrades.
A haggard man ran across the battlefield, dodging miniballs right and left. He was gasping for breath, his voice hoarse from the smoke and from yelling. He found a canteen on a dead man's body and drank deeply, moistening his throat to yell again.
"Jeff! Jeff, where are you? Jeff!" he called over and over, frantically scanning the field for any sight of his friend. Stumbling and nearly falling over the body of another dead soldier, the man looked up and saw a ditch in front of him. He crawled toward it, bloodshot eyes stinging with the smoke of the battle field. Maybe he made it to safety there, he thought, or maybe just he's lying dead somewhere. That thought was too much to imagine; he shook his head to clear it.
Finally he made it to the ditch. His frightened eyes darted here and there as he looked for any sign of Jeff among the bodies heaped in the ditch. Sudden fear gripped his heart. There, lying in a bloody heap on the ground was his coat – the coat he gave to Jeff so many nights ago. As he lurched toward it, he prayed with all his might that the body in the jacket was not his friend. Trembling with fear and exhaustion, he fell on his knees besides the still form. He turned the body over and a sob tore from his throat.
"Jeff! No, please, no! You can't go under, Jeff. You just can't! Don't leave me!" He checked for a pulse, eyes wild, battle sounds crashed endlessly on his deafened ears. There! A tiny, unsteady thump-thump. He was alive, but barely. He had to get Jeff to shelter – and fast.
"I know this'll hurt, but we gotta get you outa here!" he said, slipping his arms underneath the form, and wrapping his arms around Jeff's shoulders and legs and taking off for the field-side hospital. He didn't notice the bullets spraying up the dust around his feet, the bombs exploding everywhere, the littered battle field. He never slowed down. He was only thinking of Jeff.