Title: Welcome To The Big League
Author: LittleRedhead
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not, nor have I ever owned Combat or its characters. I wrote this for fun, so please don't sue.
Archive: Sure, jest let me know where.
**************************************************************************** ***
Private William G. Kirby, U.S. Infantry, was in the middle of writing a much-belated letter home when a voice interrupted him.
"Excuse me Private, I'm lookin' for a Lieutenant Hanley."
Kirby looked up to see a blond soldier standing in front of him. "What'd you say?"
The medic patiently repeated his question. "Can you tell me where I can find a Lieutenant Hanley?"
"Yeah, he's in the building across the street," Kirby answered, pointing with his pen in the direction of an abandoned dress shop.
The stranger smiled slightly and nodded. "Thanks Private."
"Kirby. Private William G. Kirby." The infantryman replied, supplying his name.
Then, noticing the Red Cross arm band on the stranger's sleeve, "You're our new medic huh?"
The Blond shifted his duffel bag on his right shoulder. "Yeah, I was told to report to the lieutenant when I got here."
"It's about time we got a replacement medic. We've been without a medic for a week already," Kirby grumbled. "You ever been in combat?"
The medic bowed his head and stared down at his Army boots, feeling slightly embarrassed. "No, this is my first assignment."
Kirby shook his head in exasperation as he returned his pen to his shirt pocket. "Just our luck, the Army sends us a tenderfoot replacement."
That got the young medic's dander up and his back stiffened at the criticism. "Look here Private Kirby; I may not have any field experience, but I'm not some country rube either."
Kirby jumped up to his feet and raised his right hand. "Okay, no offense buddy. I was hopin' we'd get a medic with some combat experience is all. Fresh-faced replacements don't last long up here on the front lines. Doc Walton, the guy you're replacin', was best medic around and even he didn't make it. I'll say this for ya though; ya got spunk at least. Welcome to the big leagues Doc."
Kirby was glad to see that the new medic had a backbone. The young man would need the spunk if was going to make it. And Kirby hoped the new replacement would make it. Although the BAR man wouldn't say that to the medic's face.
The medic shook Kirby's hand. "Thanks. How did Doc Walton die?" The Blond could guess the answer. Medics generally developed a bad habit of ignoring their own safety when a soldier was wounded. Still, the Georgian wanted to know for sure what man he was replacing.
"He was killed trying get to a wounded man," Kirby could have kicked himself for opening himself up to that question. The BAR man, like the rest of the squad had liked Doc Walton, and was hit hard by the medic's death. Doc Walton had been one of Kirby's best friends in the squad up until then. "He never even heard the bullet coming."
The new medic bit at his lower lip. Just what Doc was afraid of. Now he would be expected to show the same loyalty and devotion to the squad. Not to mention the same disregard for his personal safety. "Sorry to hear that." Was all the young medic could say, knowing it wasn't enough. In cases like this it was usually all that needed to be said anyway.
"I'm sorry too pal. Do us all a favor and don't let it happen to you too. Good medics are hard to come by.
"Don't worry yourself about it Kirby," the medic assured. "I plan on opening up a grocery store back home when the war is over."
Kirby opened his eyes wide in disbelief. "A grocery store? Now what do ya want to go and own a grocery store for?"
"What's wrong with a grocery store?" the medic asked defensively.
Kirby shrugged his shoulders. "Nothin' I guess. A grocery store just seems so dull."
"It may be dull, but it's safe and honest work," The Blond countered.
"I guess you're right about that. I better take you to the lieutenant before he sees us standing here gabbing," Kirby suggested, quickly changing the subject.
The blond medic flung the duffel bag over his left shoulder and followed Kirby across the street.
The medic was slowed by the load he was carrying but tried to keep up with his guide. Kirby made no effort to help the replacement. The squad members made it a point to not play favorites and let everyone pull his own weight, including tenderfoot medics.
However, Kirby did slow down to keep pace with the medic. "Say, ah, Doc, you got a name?" Kirby asked as he pulled up along side the medic.
"Last I heard I did," the young medic replied.
Kirby walked up the steps to the abandoned French dress shop Lieutenant Hanley set up as a headquarters while in town. "Very funny. Of all the medics in this Army we had to get saddled with one that thinks he's a comedian. You gonna tell me your name or is it some sort of military secret?"
"Well, since you asked so nicely, everybody has just called me Doc so far."
"Doc?" Kirby questioned. "I don't know why I was surprised." He opened the door to Lieutenant Hanley's office, letting the conversation end.
The tall, dark-haired lieutenant was seated at his desk, giving a report to Allied headquarters over the radio.
Kirby and the new medic stood in front of the lieutenant's desk, waiting for him to finish. The two privates spent the time shuffling their feet and looking around the room. A minute later Lieutenant Hanley was done with his report.
Kirby introduced the medic who saluted the officer.
Hanley returned the salute and studied the new medic for a moment. "I assume Private Kirby here has told you that the medic you're replacing was killed in the line of duty.
If the medic was scared, he didn't show it. "Yes sir, Lieutenant. I'll try not to let the same thing happen to me."
Hanley leaned back in his chair and pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his left shirt pocket. "Good, see that it doesn't. You'll be shot at, just like the rest of us, only you won't be able to shoot back. Kirby and the rest of the squad will do their best to keep you out of trouble. See to it that you help them out by keeping your head down and following orders."
"Yes sir, Lieutenant," Doc replied.
"One more thing private," Hanley added after expelling a lungful of smoke. The assignment you drew isn't a walk in the park. Doc Walton earned a great deal of respect from the men of this squad. Don't be surprised if they're not exactly chummy with you at first. They'll come around eventually."
Doc nodded his head in understanding. "I'm sure they will sir. I'll do my best to fit in."
"Kirby will show you where to bed down. You'll be wise to try to get some sleep while you can," Hanley suggested. "The Army has a habit of keeping on the move."
"You won't get an argument from me there Lieutenant," Doc promised as picked up his duffel bag. "I feel like I could sleep for a week."
"You'll be lucky if you get a couple hours sleep," Kirby retorted, eliciting a stern glare from the lieutenant.
Hanley set his cigarette down in an ashtray on the desk. "That's all I have to say. Unless either of you have anything else to add both of you are dismissed."
Doc glanced over at Kirby who was putting his helmet back on. Since neither had anything further to say, they exchanged salutes with Hanley, ending the orientation. The lieutenant then picked up a pen and began writing, while Doc and Kirby left for their quarters.
Outside of the squad's quarters a soldier was attempting to wash his socks in an Army helmet. Once inside the quarters Doc looked around the room. Several squad members were involved in a game of poker at one of the bunks on the left side of the room. Two others were cleaning their rifles, while one was writing a letter.
Kirby made quick introductions. Caje, the French speaking Louisianan was trying to get young Billy Nelson to hurry up and deal. The third player, Williams, was sitting on the bunk waiting for Nelson to begin dealing.
The two men cleaning their rifles were introduced as Mitchell and LeBeau. Doc tried to remember the names. He didn't want to work on any of these men without knowing their names. The medic felt he owed them at least that much.
The squad's next mission began early the next morning with the sound of Saunders' baritone voice rumbling from doorway. "Alright, everybody up! Rise and shine, we leave in 15 minutes."
The sergeant was greeted with a chorus of groans and mumbles at being awakened so early. Doc wondered to himself if he would ever get used to Army life. He took some consolation in the fact that the rest of the squad hated getting up early just as much.
Everyone eventually sat up in bed and began dressing, grumbling the whole time. Saunders ignored the complaints and watched the squad for a few seconds, making sure everyone was up and getting ready. Satisfied, he went outside for a briefing on the mission from Hanley.
After the squad was assembled outside Hanley began his briefing. "We'll take two patrols out. Saunders, you'll take Nelson, LeBeau, Mitchell and Warren. The rest of you are with me."
The blond sergeant affixed his camouflage helmet atop his head and stepped forward. "Alright, fall in. Nelson, take the point."
When Saunders' group was several hundred yards up the road, Hanley started his squad in the opposite direction.
The big PFC Littlejohn took point for Hanley's patrol, followed by Hanley, Caje and Kirby, with Williams bringing up the rear. Doc kept close to Kirby since the BAR man was the squad member the medic knew best. The truth was Kirby was the only squad member, other than Hanley, that Doc had even said more than hello to.
Several miles into the patrol Kirby glanced over to his right just in time to see the lead end of a German patrol walking along the road. The PFC quickly grabbed Doc's left arm and yanked the medic to the ground.
Doc let out an involuntary grunt as the wind was knocked out of him from the hard fall. Kirby immediately put his hand over Doc's mouth.
One of the Germans looked over in the direction of Kirby and Doc's position and shouted to his companions.
Hanley's squad immediately opened fire as they all took cover in a cement drainage channel. The Germans returned fire, taking cover behind a stand of trees.
Kirby groaned in pain as a bullet creased his left side.
"Lieutenant, Kirby's hit!" Littlejohn shouted to his right.
Hanley looked over in Kirby's direction and saw the private's predicament. Kirby lay motionless behind a tree about twenty yards from the rest of the ditch. Hanley knew that in that condition there was no way for the private to make it to the squad's position. There was also no way for him to help Kirby. Not without risking the rest of the squad. Kirby would have to wait.
Hanley forced himself to concentrate on the Germans. "Keep firing, we've got to keep the Germans away from Kirby," Hanley ordered, hoping Kirby could hang on just a little longer.
Doc had watched helplessly as Kirby cried out in pain. It was too much for the young medic to bear. Without thinking, Doc crawled up out of the ditch and ran toward Kirby. The rest of the squad were shocked, but recovered quickly, giving Doc cover fire.
Ducking bullets, Doc carefully checked the private's wound. Kirby had a nasty bullet hole in his side. Doc reached into his medical kit and pulled out a sulfa pack.
Doc bent down and lifted Kirby's head onto his lap. After quickly ripping open the sulfa powder, the medic poured it onto Kirby's wound.
Kirby gritted his teeth in pain as he arched his back against Doc's legs. "So, what's the verdict Doc?"
"You'll live Kirby," The medic answered. "It doesn't look like the bullet hit anything vital."
"Nothing vital except my skin," Kirby groused.
Caje was able to take out two German on the right flank with a grenade. Meanwhile Littlejohn dispatched an advancing German. The remaining German was killed when the whole squad aimed their fire at him.
"This is your lucky day Kirby; you'll be going back to a nice clean Allied hospital filled with nurses," Hanley deadpanned in an effort to cheer up the private.
"Heh, if this was my lucky day I wouldn't have been shot at all," the PFC grumbled.
That remark didn't bring any smiles to the squad members' faces. They all knew that Kirby was putting on an act that belied his pale pallor.
"Same old Kirby. You'd complain if you got a 48 hour pass," Littlejohn commented, trying to continue the light banter.
Hanley reached into his jacket pocket and produced a map. After unfolding the map and studying it a few seconds the lieutenant looked over at Doc. "There's an aid station five miles east of here in Avranches?" the lieutenant informed. "They'll be able to transport Kirby to a field hospital from there. Doc get Kirby on a stretcher and head northeast and you'll hit Avranches. You might get lucky and be able to hitch a ride part of the way. You can take Williams with you."
Immediately, the bespectacled Williams made his way over to Kirby. The small slight private helped Doc get a stretcher set up.
Williams grabbed Kirby's feet while Doc gently lifted the BAR man's shoulders. The two then lifted Kirby up and gently placed him back down onto the stretcher.
"Be careful Williams, there might still be Krauts in the area," Hanley cautioned before the private departed. "We'll be waiting for you in Deauville."
Hanley allowed himself and his men a brief rest as they watched Doc, Williams and Kirby head towards Avranches. "Okay, let's get going," The tall lieutenant ordered. "This isn't a picnic we're on."
"You coulda fooled me Lieutenant," Littlejohn quipped as he shouldered his rifle.
Hanley forced back a grin saying, "Just for that Littlejohn, you get to take the point again."
The tall, burly private moved to the front of the squad, making sure to keep a reign on his mouth.
Doc and Williams had some luck and managed to get a ride on an Allied supply truck heading to Avranches. A half hour later they were at Avranches, unloading Kirby form the back of the truck. After a quick glance around the compound, the medic motioned for the three soldiers to head for large tent where wounded soldiers were being brought inside.
Doc and Williams gently laid Kirby on a makeshift table immediately inside. Doc briefly left the wounded infantryman with Williams in order to go search for doctor. The medic only had to walk several feet before a plump brunette nurse passed by in the opposite direction. "Nurse, my friend and I brought in a wounded buddy. He needs a doctor."
The nurse glanced in the direction that Doc was pointing and hurried over to examine Kirby. Immediately the nurse looked up and announced, "This one has a stomach wound. He's third up."
Doc grabbed the nurse's left arm as she turned to leave. "You're not just gonna leave him lying here are ya?"
"For now, yes. His wound is serious, but there are two others with more serious ones. That corporal over there has a severe head wound. He needs attention right now," the nurse informed," motioning to a soldier being carried into the operating room. "Unfortunately that means your friend will have to wait."
"What kinda place is this where man with a serious wound has to wait before a doctor operates on him?" Williams asked in anger.
The nurse bit back a retort, knowing it wouldn't help anything to lose her temper. Besides, she was just as frustrated as the medic at the situation. "I'm Captain Fields, head nurse. Please understand, I would like to help you right now, but this last major Allied offensive has us operating around the clock. Right now there just aren't enough medical personnel to go around. Other soldiers more seriously wounded than your friend and they must have priority. Please understand."
Williams nodded his head and sighed. He didn't feel any better about the situation, but at least he understood. "Then we'll stay with Kirby until he goes into the operating room."
His words were drowned out by the commotion of yet another wounded soldier being carried inside the tent. Captain Fields promptly turned around and weaved her way through the maze of medical personnel to examine the man's injuries.
Doc watched as the doctors and nurses attended the soldier. His lack of movement, combined with the sight of a bloody bandage on his chest told the medic that the soldier didn't have much of a chance.
"Doesn't look like the fella's goin' to make it?" Williams asked the medic.
Doc shook his head. "No, but miracles can happen. I'm sure the doctors won't let him die without a fight."
"I guess you're right," Williams admitted. "I remember hearing this story back home about this lady who fell and hit her head. Everyone thought she was dead; they even had a funeral for her. Just as they were about to start the funeral the lady sits up in the coffin."
Doc chuckled in spite of the mood. "I bet that musta been some sight."
"Yeah, but I don't know that it's true," The private confessed. "I always figured it was just some sorta tall tale that got passed down from generation to generation."
"Maybe, but they say that all legends have their beginnings in truth," Doc pointed out.
Williams looked down at Kirby and sighed. "I don't like just standing here waiting. I think I'll go and try to round up a cup of coffee or somethin'. You want me to bring you back anything?"
"A cup of coffee sounds good," The medic decided.
With that Williams was off in search of a quick, improvised meal. Doc managed to scrounge up a small chair which he set next to Kirby. The medic sat down and watched Kirby slow, shallow breathing. Even with his limited experience with soldiers, Doc could tell the BAR man wasn't going to make it if he didn't get operated on soon. But for Doc, the worst part of waiting was having to listen to the moans screams of the wounded waiting for surgery. The screams even got to some of the veteran doctors and nurses. Doc caught glimpses of them looking at each other, shaking their heads exasperation.
Williams came back carrying a try of food and two cups of coffee. The private looked more than a little pale, obviously having had his fill of a field hospital. "Here's your coffee Doc."
The medic gratefully accepted the cup of hot liquid. Doc took one sip of the coffee and pursing his lips and crinkled his nose. "This coffee must be left over from the last war."
Williams sat down on the floor beside the medic saying, "Yeah, it tastes like muddy water, but at least it's hot."
"That's the only good thing that can be said for it," Doc quipped.
"I see they still haven't taken Kirby into the operating room," Williams remarked as he stabbed a fork into a piece of something that appeared to be roast beef.
Doc sighed deeply with regret. "Yeah, business is booming as you can see,"
Williams shuttered involuntarily. "I hope they take him soon. The quicker we get out of here the better, as far as I'm concerned."
"You mean you'd rather go back to the front lines than sit here in a makeshift hospital?" The medic questioned in surprise.
"I never thought I'd feel this way, but yeah, you better believe I'd rather be anywhere but here," Williams replied between bites of mashed potato. "I've seen never so many wounded people all in one place."
"I know what you mean," The medic agreed. "Alot of them don't look like they'll make either. Look Williams, I'm gonna stay here until Kirby gets through surgery, but I don't see why you can't leave."
Williams glanced over at Kirby, lifted his tray and stood up. "I was hopin' you'd say that. If you're sure you don't need me I'll get started back right now."
Doc eyed they tray filled with partially eaten food. "You mean you aren't gonna stay and finish you lunch?"
"Nah, This food is worse than K-Rations."
"Okay, I'll catch up with the lieutenant." Doc lifted his left wrist and glanced at his wristwatch. "Lieutenant Hanley and the others should be at the objective by now."
"Probably. You sound like you're in a hurry to leave this place too," Williams teased.
"It's not that so much. I just don't like the idea that one of the guys might get hurt and I won't be there," The medic confessed.
"You worry too much Doc. You can't be everywhere," the infantryman pointed out.
"You're right, but that doesn't mean I can't try to be where the action is," Doc countered.
Their conversation was ended as a short redheaded nurse walked up next to Doc. "Private, we're going to need your help in the wounded."
"It looks like you found some action here Doc," Williams observed wryly.
The medic ignored the infantryman and turned his attention to the nurse. "I'm just a medic," he stammered.
"You'll do," the nurse said, grabbing his left arm and pulling the medic along.
Fifteen minutes later a nurse and an orderly wheeled Kirby into the operating room. The infantryman stirred as his eyes fluttered open. "Where am I?"
"You're in an operating room soldier," A gray-haired doctor informed in a calm, gentle voice, motioning for the anesthesiologist to put Kirby under. "Now we're going to take care of this wound of yours, so just relax and go to sleep."
Doc was at another operating table across the room, handing medical instruments to one of the doctors. The medic briefly looked up to watch Kirby's operation. That brief glance was immediately interrupted by the doctor Doc was assisting.
"Private, 3-0 silk," The doctor asked again.
Doc looked momentarily at the Doctor and then grabbed the 3-0 silk. Handing it to the major, the medic attempted to explain. "The guy on the table over there is the one I brought in."
"Private, right now I don't care he's your brother. We have a patient right here on this table that deserves our full attention," the doctor scolded.
Doc nodded his head and forced himself to concentrate on the work at hand. For the next ten hours Doc and the rest of the medical personnel worked feverishly to help the patch up the soldiers that came across the operating tables.
As he continued assisting one of the senior doctors, the medic thought back to his basic training. Until now Doc had thought his basic medical training had prepared him for something like this. After all, basic medical training was supposed to acclimate future medics to the gruesome realities of war. Now Doc was realizing that no amount of training in the world could have prepared him for the sight of the broken, disfigured bodies he was seeing.
When the last patient was finished Doc removed his mask and massaged his eyes, grateful that the ordeal was finally over.
"Thank you for your help Private. You did a good job," the Major complimented.
"I'm glad I could help. I'm sorry about being such a fumble-fingers," Doc apologized.
The doctor pulled down his mask and began stripping off his rubber gloves. "For a beginner you did fine. I just had to jump all over you to wake you up so you'd pay attention to your job,"
"I understand sir. I deserved the chewing out. I could have made a fatal mistake in there. I should have realized that Kirby was in good hands," Doc berated himself as he followed the officer into the changing room.
"Don't be too hard on yourself private. Your Private Kirby is lucky to have such a loyal friend like you. I take it you two have served together for quite some time."
Doc shook his head as he sat down on a bench next to the major. "No sir. I was just assigned to his squad today."
The major stopped in the middle of putting on a boot. "Your concern is even more remarkable then. You're welcome to go check your Kirby if you like. He'll be asleep, but it might do him and you some good if you talk to him a few minutes."
"Thanks Major, I'll do that." Then, suddenly realizing something he had forgotten Doc asked, "Oh Major, we were never introduced."
The physician paused momentarily and then smiled broadly. "By golly you're right private. I'm Major Sherman Potter. And you are?"
"Just plain Doc," The medic answered, shaking the officer's hand.
"Nice to meet you, 'Just Plain Doc'" Potter replied as he finished buttoning his olive-drab Army shirt.
"I guess I'll go check on Kirby and let you get some rest," Doc announced before heading for the recovery room.
Doc wondered if everyone else was as tired as the Major Potter looked. One look around at the haggard features on the faces of the medical personnel gave Doc the answer.
The medic fought off his own fatigue and went to check on Kirby. The ward room was crammed full of wounded. There was barely enough room to walk around. The medic looked around the room, searching for Kirby. Finally spying the BAR man at the far end, Doc made his way toward the private. Doc had to squeeze between cots to make it to his destination.
Kirby was still asleep, his breathing shallow but easy. Doc carefully sat down on the edge of the cot, making sure not to disturb the infantryman. The Southern medic then bowed his head and silently prayed for the Kirby and the rest of the wounded.
After sitting with Kirby for an hour Doc decided to find a place to sleep for the night. The Southerner had found himself dozing off to sleep more than once in the past few minutes and didn't need any more hints that it was time for bed.
Doc woke up to the smell of coffee brought to him by on of the nurses. The medic carefully cupped the hot brew in his hands. Doc shifted the cup into his left hand and glance at the watch on his right wrist. He had been asleep for a good two hours. That was enough sleep, now it was time to get back to work.
Doc went to check in on Kirby one more time before searched for the CO to get permission to go back to the squad. Kirby was awake this time, but not up to doing much talking. Doc let the infantryman rest and did most of the talking for the few minutes he spent with Kirby.
Doc didn't need to find the C.O. as the lieutenant colonel found him. "Excuse me private, I'm Colonel Vincent," the doctor introduced.
Doc flashed a smile and saluted the gray-haired officer. "I'm Private Morrow. People just call me Doc."
Vincent raised an eyebrow at the name before returning the salute. "An appropriate moniker, if not over-used."
Doc shrugged his shoulders sheepishly. "I know what you mean Colonel. I think every medic in the army is called Doc."
That drew a brief chuckle from Vincent. "You're probably right. I just wanted to stop by and thank you for your help in the operating room. You did a fine job in there. We really needed the help."
"Thank you Colonel. I hope you get more help soon."
"I'd settle for fewer patients," Vincent replied wearily.
"Yes sir Colonel, I wouldn't mind that either," Doc agreed. "I was wonderin' if you need me here anymore. If not I'd like to return to my squad."
"I think we can do without you now. You're free to go back to your unit anytime," Vincent replied.
Kirby stood up and stretched his arms out over his head saying, "Since Kirby here is in good hands I guess I'll be leaving then." With that the medic left the tent and started on his walk.
On his way back to Lieutenant Hanley's squad Doc reflected on the many of wounded that had come across the operating table the night before. The thought turned the medic's stomach. The wounded in basic training were covered with only fake blood and got up and walked away after each exercise. Doc knew that too many of these young soldiers he was helping today wouldn't be so lucky.
The next day Doc was told to report to Lieutenant Hanley's office. The medic walked slowly inside the makeshift office. Doc was apprehensive, unsure as to how tell the lieutenant what he wanted to say.
Doc opened the office door and waited for the lieutenant to finish signing a report. The two soldiers then exchanged salutes. Doc pulled up a crate lying near the door and sat down.
"I thought you would want to know that I talked with Kirby's doctor and he said Kirby will be alright," Hanley informed.
"Thank you sir, that's good news," Kirby replied with relief. "There's somethin' I wanted to talk to you about Lieutenant, if you have the time."
Hanley rubbed the tight muscles in the back of his neck. "What's on your mind Doc?"
He paused a moment in an effort to come up with the words. "I'll just come right out with it sir. I don't think I'm cut out to be a medic." 'Well, that wasn't so hard' he thought to himself. 'At least it's all out in the open.'
Hanley's only reaction was to lean back in his chair and study the medic. He certainly hadn't expected this statement from Doc. "This is rather sudden. What brought it on?"
"Helping out at the field hospital," The medic answered. "I just don't think I can take seeing that kind of suffering any more. I was barely even able to keep my food down the whole time."
"What makes you think that you're the only soldier whose stomach was tied up in knots when he got his first real look at war?" Hanley demanded, leaning forward against his desk. He was determined not to let Doc get off this easy. The medic was going to have to prove he needed a transfer.
Doc was stunned. He hadn't expected Hanley to react quite so strongly. The lieutenant was supposed to be skeptical, yes, but not antagonistic. The medic had expected some understanding form his commanding officer. After all, this was a difficult time for Doc.
"What if I freeze up or lose my lunch when one of the guys is hurt and needs me," Doc countered, taking a cigarette Hanley produced from his shirt pocket.
The lieutenant stood up, leaned over his desk and lit Doc's Camel. "You didn't freeze up the other day when Kirby needed or in the operating room."
Maybe you're right Lieutenant," The medic conceded. "I'd still like some time to think it over though."
"I'll give you a couple days to think it over. If you still decide that you want to change professions I'll see what I can do," Hanley suggested as he leaned forward in his chair.
Doc took a long drag on the cigarette and slowly exhaled the smoke. "Fair enough sir. I think I'll try to find a priest and talk the problem over with him."
A slight smile crept across Hanley's lips as he nodded his approval. "That sounds like a good idea."
Their conversation ended, Hanley and Doc exchanged salutes and Doc left the office. Alone now, Hanley allowed himself the luxury of a break from his paperwork. The lieutenant locked his fingers together behind his head and sighed. 'Maybe the new medic would work out after all,' the lieutenant thought.
Author: LittleRedhead
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not, nor have I ever owned Combat or its characters. I wrote this for fun, so please don't sue.
Archive: Sure, jest let me know where.
**************************************************************************** ***
Private William G. Kirby, U.S. Infantry, was in the middle of writing a much-belated letter home when a voice interrupted him.
"Excuse me Private, I'm lookin' for a Lieutenant Hanley."
Kirby looked up to see a blond soldier standing in front of him. "What'd you say?"
The medic patiently repeated his question. "Can you tell me where I can find a Lieutenant Hanley?"
"Yeah, he's in the building across the street," Kirby answered, pointing with his pen in the direction of an abandoned dress shop.
The stranger smiled slightly and nodded. "Thanks Private."
"Kirby. Private William G. Kirby." The infantryman replied, supplying his name.
Then, noticing the Red Cross arm band on the stranger's sleeve, "You're our new medic huh?"
The Blond shifted his duffel bag on his right shoulder. "Yeah, I was told to report to the lieutenant when I got here."
"It's about time we got a replacement medic. We've been without a medic for a week already," Kirby grumbled. "You ever been in combat?"
The medic bowed his head and stared down at his Army boots, feeling slightly embarrassed. "No, this is my first assignment."
Kirby shook his head in exasperation as he returned his pen to his shirt pocket. "Just our luck, the Army sends us a tenderfoot replacement."
That got the young medic's dander up and his back stiffened at the criticism. "Look here Private Kirby; I may not have any field experience, but I'm not some country rube either."
Kirby jumped up to his feet and raised his right hand. "Okay, no offense buddy. I was hopin' we'd get a medic with some combat experience is all. Fresh-faced replacements don't last long up here on the front lines. Doc Walton, the guy you're replacin', was best medic around and even he didn't make it. I'll say this for ya though; ya got spunk at least. Welcome to the big leagues Doc."
Kirby was glad to see that the new medic had a backbone. The young man would need the spunk if was going to make it. And Kirby hoped the new replacement would make it. Although the BAR man wouldn't say that to the medic's face.
The medic shook Kirby's hand. "Thanks. How did Doc Walton die?" The Blond could guess the answer. Medics generally developed a bad habit of ignoring their own safety when a soldier was wounded. Still, the Georgian wanted to know for sure what man he was replacing.
"He was killed trying get to a wounded man," Kirby could have kicked himself for opening himself up to that question. The BAR man, like the rest of the squad had liked Doc Walton, and was hit hard by the medic's death. Doc Walton had been one of Kirby's best friends in the squad up until then. "He never even heard the bullet coming."
The new medic bit at his lower lip. Just what Doc was afraid of. Now he would be expected to show the same loyalty and devotion to the squad. Not to mention the same disregard for his personal safety. "Sorry to hear that." Was all the young medic could say, knowing it wasn't enough. In cases like this it was usually all that needed to be said anyway.
"I'm sorry too pal. Do us all a favor and don't let it happen to you too. Good medics are hard to come by.
"Don't worry yourself about it Kirby," the medic assured. "I plan on opening up a grocery store back home when the war is over."
Kirby opened his eyes wide in disbelief. "A grocery store? Now what do ya want to go and own a grocery store for?"
"What's wrong with a grocery store?" the medic asked defensively.
Kirby shrugged his shoulders. "Nothin' I guess. A grocery store just seems so dull."
"It may be dull, but it's safe and honest work," The Blond countered.
"I guess you're right about that. I better take you to the lieutenant before he sees us standing here gabbing," Kirby suggested, quickly changing the subject.
The blond medic flung the duffel bag over his left shoulder and followed Kirby across the street.
The medic was slowed by the load he was carrying but tried to keep up with his guide. Kirby made no effort to help the replacement. The squad members made it a point to not play favorites and let everyone pull his own weight, including tenderfoot medics.
However, Kirby did slow down to keep pace with the medic. "Say, ah, Doc, you got a name?" Kirby asked as he pulled up along side the medic.
"Last I heard I did," the young medic replied.
Kirby walked up the steps to the abandoned French dress shop Lieutenant Hanley set up as a headquarters while in town. "Very funny. Of all the medics in this Army we had to get saddled with one that thinks he's a comedian. You gonna tell me your name or is it some sort of military secret?"
"Well, since you asked so nicely, everybody has just called me Doc so far."
"Doc?" Kirby questioned. "I don't know why I was surprised." He opened the door to Lieutenant Hanley's office, letting the conversation end.
The tall, dark-haired lieutenant was seated at his desk, giving a report to Allied headquarters over the radio.
Kirby and the new medic stood in front of the lieutenant's desk, waiting for him to finish. The two privates spent the time shuffling their feet and looking around the room. A minute later Lieutenant Hanley was done with his report.
Kirby introduced the medic who saluted the officer.
Hanley returned the salute and studied the new medic for a moment. "I assume Private Kirby here has told you that the medic you're replacing was killed in the line of duty.
If the medic was scared, he didn't show it. "Yes sir, Lieutenant. I'll try not to let the same thing happen to me."
Hanley leaned back in his chair and pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his left shirt pocket. "Good, see that it doesn't. You'll be shot at, just like the rest of us, only you won't be able to shoot back. Kirby and the rest of the squad will do their best to keep you out of trouble. See to it that you help them out by keeping your head down and following orders."
"Yes sir, Lieutenant," Doc replied.
"One more thing private," Hanley added after expelling a lungful of smoke. The assignment you drew isn't a walk in the park. Doc Walton earned a great deal of respect from the men of this squad. Don't be surprised if they're not exactly chummy with you at first. They'll come around eventually."
Doc nodded his head in understanding. "I'm sure they will sir. I'll do my best to fit in."
"Kirby will show you where to bed down. You'll be wise to try to get some sleep while you can," Hanley suggested. "The Army has a habit of keeping on the move."
"You won't get an argument from me there Lieutenant," Doc promised as picked up his duffel bag. "I feel like I could sleep for a week."
"You'll be lucky if you get a couple hours sleep," Kirby retorted, eliciting a stern glare from the lieutenant.
Hanley set his cigarette down in an ashtray on the desk. "That's all I have to say. Unless either of you have anything else to add both of you are dismissed."
Doc glanced over at Kirby who was putting his helmet back on. Since neither had anything further to say, they exchanged salutes with Hanley, ending the orientation. The lieutenant then picked up a pen and began writing, while Doc and Kirby left for their quarters.
Outside of the squad's quarters a soldier was attempting to wash his socks in an Army helmet. Once inside the quarters Doc looked around the room. Several squad members were involved in a game of poker at one of the bunks on the left side of the room. Two others were cleaning their rifles, while one was writing a letter.
Kirby made quick introductions. Caje, the French speaking Louisianan was trying to get young Billy Nelson to hurry up and deal. The third player, Williams, was sitting on the bunk waiting for Nelson to begin dealing.
The two men cleaning their rifles were introduced as Mitchell and LeBeau. Doc tried to remember the names. He didn't want to work on any of these men without knowing their names. The medic felt he owed them at least that much.
The squad's next mission began early the next morning with the sound of Saunders' baritone voice rumbling from doorway. "Alright, everybody up! Rise and shine, we leave in 15 minutes."
The sergeant was greeted with a chorus of groans and mumbles at being awakened so early. Doc wondered to himself if he would ever get used to Army life. He took some consolation in the fact that the rest of the squad hated getting up early just as much.
Everyone eventually sat up in bed and began dressing, grumbling the whole time. Saunders ignored the complaints and watched the squad for a few seconds, making sure everyone was up and getting ready. Satisfied, he went outside for a briefing on the mission from Hanley.
After the squad was assembled outside Hanley began his briefing. "We'll take two patrols out. Saunders, you'll take Nelson, LeBeau, Mitchell and Warren. The rest of you are with me."
The blond sergeant affixed his camouflage helmet atop his head and stepped forward. "Alright, fall in. Nelson, take the point."
When Saunders' group was several hundred yards up the road, Hanley started his squad in the opposite direction.
The big PFC Littlejohn took point for Hanley's patrol, followed by Hanley, Caje and Kirby, with Williams bringing up the rear. Doc kept close to Kirby since the BAR man was the squad member the medic knew best. The truth was Kirby was the only squad member, other than Hanley, that Doc had even said more than hello to.
Several miles into the patrol Kirby glanced over to his right just in time to see the lead end of a German patrol walking along the road. The PFC quickly grabbed Doc's left arm and yanked the medic to the ground.
Doc let out an involuntary grunt as the wind was knocked out of him from the hard fall. Kirby immediately put his hand over Doc's mouth.
One of the Germans looked over in the direction of Kirby and Doc's position and shouted to his companions.
Hanley's squad immediately opened fire as they all took cover in a cement drainage channel. The Germans returned fire, taking cover behind a stand of trees.
Kirby groaned in pain as a bullet creased his left side.
"Lieutenant, Kirby's hit!" Littlejohn shouted to his right.
Hanley looked over in Kirby's direction and saw the private's predicament. Kirby lay motionless behind a tree about twenty yards from the rest of the ditch. Hanley knew that in that condition there was no way for the private to make it to the squad's position. There was also no way for him to help Kirby. Not without risking the rest of the squad. Kirby would have to wait.
Hanley forced himself to concentrate on the Germans. "Keep firing, we've got to keep the Germans away from Kirby," Hanley ordered, hoping Kirby could hang on just a little longer.
Doc had watched helplessly as Kirby cried out in pain. It was too much for the young medic to bear. Without thinking, Doc crawled up out of the ditch and ran toward Kirby. The rest of the squad were shocked, but recovered quickly, giving Doc cover fire.
Ducking bullets, Doc carefully checked the private's wound. Kirby had a nasty bullet hole in his side. Doc reached into his medical kit and pulled out a sulfa pack.
Doc bent down and lifted Kirby's head onto his lap. After quickly ripping open the sulfa powder, the medic poured it onto Kirby's wound.
Kirby gritted his teeth in pain as he arched his back against Doc's legs. "So, what's the verdict Doc?"
"You'll live Kirby," The medic answered. "It doesn't look like the bullet hit anything vital."
"Nothing vital except my skin," Kirby groused.
Caje was able to take out two German on the right flank with a grenade. Meanwhile Littlejohn dispatched an advancing German. The remaining German was killed when the whole squad aimed their fire at him.
"This is your lucky day Kirby; you'll be going back to a nice clean Allied hospital filled with nurses," Hanley deadpanned in an effort to cheer up the private.
"Heh, if this was my lucky day I wouldn't have been shot at all," the PFC grumbled.
That remark didn't bring any smiles to the squad members' faces. They all knew that Kirby was putting on an act that belied his pale pallor.
"Same old Kirby. You'd complain if you got a 48 hour pass," Littlejohn commented, trying to continue the light banter.
Hanley reached into his jacket pocket and produced a map. After unfolding the map and studying it a few seconds the lieutenant looked over at Doc. "There's an aid station five miles east of here in Avranches?" the lieutenant informed. "They'll be able to transport Kirby to a field hospital from there. Doc get Kirby on a stretcher and head northeast and you'll hit Avranches. You might get lucky and be able to hitch a ride part of the way. You can take Williams with you."
Immediately, the bespectacled Williams made his way over to Kirby. The small slight private helped Doc get a stretcher set up.
Williams grabbed Kirby's feet while Doc gently lifted the BAR man's shoulders. The two then lifted Kirby up and gently placed him back down onto the stretcher.
"Be careful Williams, there might still be Krauts in the area," Hanley cautioned before the private departed. "We'll be waiting for you in Deauville."
Hanley allowed himself and his men a brief rest as they watched Doc, Williams and Kirby head towards Avranches. "Okay, let's get going," The tall lieutenant ordered. "This isn't a picnic we're on."
"You coulda fooled me Lieutenant," Littlejohn quipped as he shouldered his rifle.
Hanley forced back a grin saying, "Just for that Littlejohn, you get to take the point again."
The tall, burly private moved to the front of the squad, making sure to keep a reign on his mouth.
Doc and Williams had some luck and managed to get a ride on an Allied supply truck heading to Avranches. A half hour later they were at Avranches, unloading Kirby form the back of the truck. After a quick glance around the compound, the medic motioned for the three soldiers to head for large tent where wounded soldiers were being brought inside.
Doc and Williams gently laid Kirby on a makeshift table immediately inside. Doc briefly left the wounded infantryman with Williams in order to go search for doctor. The medic only had to walk several feet before a plump brunette nurse passed by in the opposite direction. "Nurse, my friend and I brought in a wounded buddy. He needs a doctor."
The nurse glanced in the direction that Doc was pointing and hurried over to examine Kirby. Immediately the nurse looked up and announced, "This one has a stomach wound. He's third up."
Doc grabbed the nurse's left arm as she turned to leave. "You're not just gonna leave him lying here are ya?"
"For now, yes. His wound is serious, but there are two others with more serious ones. That corporal over there has a severe head wound. He needs attention right now," the nurse informed," motioning to a soldier being carried into the operating room. "Unfortunately that means your friend will have to wait."
"What kinda place is this where man with a serious wound has to wait before a doctor operates on him?" Williams asked in anger.
The nurse bit back a retort, knowing it wouldn't help anything to lose her temper. Besides, she was just as frustrated as the medic at the situation. "I'm Captain Fields, head nurse. Please understand, I would like to help you right now, but this last major Allied offensive has us operating around the clock. Right now there just aren't enough medical personnel to go around. Other soldiers more seriously wounded than your friend and they must have priority. Please understand."
Williams nodded his head and sighed. He didn't feel any better about the situation, but at least he understood. "Then we'll stay with Kirby until he goes into the operating room."
His words were drowned out by the commotion of yet another wounded soldier being carried inside the tent. Captain Fields promptly turned around and weaved her way through the maze of medical personnel to examine the man's injuries.
Doc watched as the doctors and nurses attended the soldier. His lack of movement, combined with the sight of a bloody bandage on his chest told the medic that the soldier didn't have much of a chance.
"Doesn't look like the fella's goin' to make it?" Williams asked the medic.
Doc shook his head. "No, but miracles can happen. I'm sure the doctors won't let him die without a fight."
"I guess you're right," Williams admitted. "I remember hearing this story back home about this lady who fell and hit her head. Everyone thought she was dead; they even had a funeral for her. Just as they were about to start the funeral the lady sits up in the coffin."
Doc chuckled in spite of the mood. "I bet that musta been some sight."
"Yeah, but I don't know that it's true," The private confessed. "I always figured it was just some sorta tall tale that got passed down from generation to generation."
"Maybe, but they say that all legends have their beginnings in truth," Doc pointed out.
Williams looked down at Kirby and sighed. "I don't like just standing here waiting. I think I'll go and try to round up a cup of coffee or somethin'. You want me to bring you back anything?"
"A cup of coffee sounds good," The medic decided.
With that Williams was off in search of a quick, improvised meal. Doc managed to scrounge up a small chair which he set next to Kirby. The medic sat down and watched Kirby slow, shallow breathing. Even with his limited experience with soldiers, Doc could tell the BAR man wasn't going to make it if he didn't get operated on soon. But for Doc, the worst part of waiting was having to listen to the moans screams of the wounded waiting for surgery. The screams even got to some of the veteran doctors and nurses. Doc caught glimpses of them looking at each other, shaking their heads exasperation.
Williams came back carrying a try of food and two cups of coffee. The private looked more than a little pale, obviously having had his fill of a field hospital. "Here's your coffee Doc."
The medic gratefully accepted the cup of hot liquid. Doc took one sip of the coffee and pursing his lips and crinkled his nose. "This coffee must be left over from the last war."
Williams sat down on the floor beside the medic saying, "Yeah, it tastes like muddy water, but at least it's hot."
"That's the only good thing that can be said for it," Doc quipped.
"I see they still haven't taken Kirby into the operating room," Williams remarked as he stabbed a fork into a piece of something that appeared to be roast beef.
Doc sighed deeply with regret. "Yeah, business is booming as you can see,"
Williams shuttered involuntarily. "I hope they take him soon. The quicker we get out of here the better, as far as I'm concerned."
"You mean you'd rather go back to the front lines than sit here in a makeshift hospital?" The medic questioned in surprise.
"I never thought I'd feel this way, but yeah, you better believe I'd rather be anywhere but here," Williams replied between bites of mashed potato. "I've seen never so many wounded people all in one place."
"I know what you mean," The medic agreed. "Alot of them don't look like they'll make either. Look Williams, I'm gonna stay here until Kirby gets through surgery, but I don't see why you can't leave."
Williams glanced over at Kirby, lifted his tray and stood up. "I was hopin' you'd say that. If you're sure you don't need me I'll get started back right now."
Doc eyed they tray filled with partially eaten food. "You mean you aren't gonna stay and finish you lunch?"
"Nah, This food is worse than K-Rations."
"Okay, I'll catch up with the lieutenant." Doc lifted his left wrist and glanced at his wristwatch. "Lieutenant Hanley and the others should be at the objective by now."
"Probably. You sound like you're in a hurry to leave this place too," Williams teased.
"It's not that so much. I just don't like the idea that one of the guys might get hurt and I won't be there," The medic confessed.
"You worry too much Doc. You can't be everywhere," the infantryman pointed out.
"You're right, but that doesn't mean I can't try to be where the action is," Doc countered.
Their conversation was ended as a short redheaded nurse walked up next to Doc. "Private, we're going to need your help in the wounded."
"It looks like you found some action here Doc," Williams observed wryly.
The medic ignored the infantryman and turned his attention to the nurse. "I'm just a medic," he stammered.
"You'll do," the nurse said, grabbing his left arm and pulling the medic along.
Fifteen minutes later a nurse and an orderly wheeled Kirby into the operating room. The infantryman stirred as his eyes fluttered open. "Where am I?"
"You're in an operating room soldier," A gray-haired doctor informed in a calm, gentle voice, motioning for the anesthesiologist to put Kirby under. "Now we're going to take care of this wound of yours, so just relax and go to sleep."
Doc was at another operating table across the room, handing medical instruments to one of the doctors. The medic briefly looked up to watch Kirby's operation. That brief glance was immediately interrupted by the doctor Doc was assisting.
"Private, 3-0 silk," The doctor asked again.
Doc looked momentarily at the Doctor and then grabbed the 3-0 silk. Handing it to the major, the medic attempted to explain. "The guy on the table over there is the one I brought in."
"Private, right now I don't care he's your brother. We have a patient right here on this table that deserves our full attention," the doctor scolded.
Doc nodded his head and forced himself to concentrate on the work at hand. For the next ten hours Doc and the rest of the medical personnel worked feverishly to help the patch up the soldiers that came across the operating tables.
As he continued assisting one of the senior doctors, the medic thought back to his basic training. Until now Doc had thought his basic medical training had prepared him for something like this. After all, basic medical training was supposed to acclimate future medics to the gruesome realities of war. Now Doc was realizing that no amount of training in the world could have prepared him for the sight of the broken, disfigured bodies he was seeing.
When the last patient was finished Doc removed his mask and massaged his eyes, grateful that the ordeal was finally over.
"Thank you for your help Private. You did a good job," the Major complimented.
"I'm glad I could help. I'm sorry about being such a fumble-fingers," Doc apologized.
The doctor pulled down his mask and began stripping off his rubber gloves. "For a beginner you did fine. I just had to jump all over you to wake you up so you'd pay attention to your job,"
"I understand sir. I deserved the chewing out. I could have made a fatal mistake in there. I should have realized that Kirby was in good hands," Doc berated himself as he followed the officer into the changing room.
"Don't be too hard on yourself private. Your Private Kirby is lucky to have such a loyal friend like you. I take it you two have served together for quite some time."
Doc shook his head as he sat down on a bench next to the major. "No sir. I was just assigned to his squad today."
The major stopped in the middle of putting on a boot. "Your concern is even more remarkable then. You're welcome to go check your Kirby if you like. He'll be asleep, but it might do him and you some good if you talk to him a few minutes."
"Thanks Major, I'll do that." Then, suddenly realizing something he had forgotten Doc asked, "Oh Major, we were never introduced."
The physician paused momentarily and then smiled broadly. "By golly you're right private. I'm Major Sherman Potter. And you are?"
"Just plain Doc," The medic answered, shaking the officer's hand.
"Nice to meet you, 'Just Plain Doc'" Potter replied as he finished buttoning his olive-drab Army shirt.
"I guess I'll go check on Kirby and let you get some rest," Doc announced before heading for the recovery room.
Doc wondered if everyone else was as tired as the Major Potter looked. One look around at the haggard features on the faces of the medical personnel gave Doc the answer.
The medic fought off his own fatigue and went to check on Kirby. The ward room was crammed full of wounded. There was barely enough room to walk around. The medic looked around the room, searching for Kirby. Finally spying the BAR man at the far end, Doc made his way toward the private. Doc had to squeeze between cots to make it to his destination.
Kirby was still asleep, his breathing shallow but easy. Doc carefully sat down on the edge of the cot, making sure not to disturb the infantryman. The Southern medic then bowed his head and silently prayed for the Kirby and the rest of the wounded.
After sitting with Kirby for an hour Doc decided to find a place to sleep for the night. The Southerner had found himself dozing off to sleep more than once in the past few minutes and didn't need any more hints that it was time for bed.
Doc woke up to the smell of coffee brought to him by on of the nurses. The medic carefully cupped the hot brew in his hands. Doc shifted the cup into his left hand and glance at the watch on his right wrist. He had been asleep for a good two hours. That was enough sleep, now it was time to get back to work.
Doc went to check in on Kirby one more time before searched for the CO to get permission to go back to the squad. Kirby was awake this time, but not up to doing much talking. Doc let the infantryman rest and did most of the talking for the few minutes he spent with Kirby.
Doc didn't need to find the C.O. as the lieutenant colonel found him. "Excuse me private, I'm Colonel Vincent," the doctor introduced.
Doc flashed a smile and saluted the gray-haired officer. "I'm Private Morrow. People just call me Doc."
Vincent raised an eyebrow at the name before returning the salute. "An appropriate moniker, if not over-used."
Doc shrugged his shoulders sheepishly. "I know what you mean Colonel. I think every medic in the army is called Doc."
That drew a brief chuckle from Vincent. "You're probably right. I just wanted to stop by and thank you for your help in the operating room. You did a fine job in there. We really needed the help."
"Thank you Colonel. I hope you get more help soon."
"I'd settle for fewer patients," Vincent replied wearily.
"Yes sir Colonel, I wouldn't mind that either," Doc agreed. "I was wonderin' if you need me here anymore. If not I'd like to return to my squad."
"I think we can do without you now. You're free to go back to your unit anytime," Vincent replied.
Kirby stood up and stretched his arms out over his head saying, "Since Kirby here is in good hands I guess I'll be leaving then." With that the medic left the tent and started on his walk.
On his way back to Lieutenant Hanley's squad Doc reflected on the many of wounded that had come across the operating table the night before. The thought turned the medic's stomach. The wounded in basic training were covered with only fake blood and got up and walked away after each exercise. Doc knew that too many of these young soldiers he was helping today wouldn't be so lucky.
The next day Doc was told to report to Lieutenant Hanley's office. The medic walked slowly inside the makeshift office. Doc was apprehensive, unsure as to how tell the lieutenant what he wanted to say.
Doc opened the office door and waited for the lieutenant to finish signing a report. The two soldiers then exchanged salutes. Doc pulled up a crate lying near the door and sat down.
"I thought you would want to know that I talked with Kirby's doctor and he said Kirby will be alright," Hanley informed.
"Thank you sir, that's good news," Kirby replied with relief. "There's somethin' I wanted to talk to you about Lieutenant, if you have the time."
Hanley rubbed the tight muscles in the back of his neck. "What's on your mind Doc?"
He paused a moment in an effort to come up with the words. "I'll just come right out with it sir. I don't think I'm cut out to be a medic." 'Well, that wasn't so hard' he thought to himself. 'At least it's all out in the open.'
Hanley's only reaction was to lean back in his chair and study the medic. He certainly hadn't expected this statement from Doc. "This is rather sudden. What brought it on?"
"Helping out at the field hospital," The medic answered. "I just don't think I can take seeing that kind of suffering any more. I was barely even able to keep my food down the whole time."
"What makes you think that you're the only soldier whose stomach was tied up in knots when he got his first real look at war?" Hanley demanded, leaning forward against his desk. He was determined not to let Doc get off this easy. The medic was going to have to prove he needed a transfer.
Doc was stunned. He hadn't expected Hanley to react quite so strongly. The lieutenant was supposed to be skeptical, yes, but not antagonistic. The medic had expected some understanding form his commanding officer. After all, this was a difficult time for Doc.
"What if I freeze up or lose my lunch when one of the guys is hurt and needs me," Doc countered, taking a cigarette Hanley produced from his shirt pocket.
The lieutenant stood up, leaned over his desk and lit Doc's Camel. "You didn't freeze up the other day when Kirby needed or in the operating room."
Maybe you're right Lieutenant," The medic conceded. "I'd still like some time to think it over though."
"I'll give you a couple days to think it over. If you still decide that you want to change professions I'll see what I can do," Hanley suggested as he leaned forward in his chair.
Doc took a long drag on the cigarette and slowly exhaled the smoke. "Fair enough sir. I think I'll try to find a priest and talk the problem over with him."
A slight smile crept across Hanley's lips as he nodded his approval. "That sounds like a good idea."
Their conversation ended, Hanley and Doc exchanged salutes and Doc left the office. Alone now, Hanley allowed himself the luxury of a break from his paperwork. The lieutenant locked his fingers together behind his head and sighed. 'Maybe the new medic would work out after all,' the lieutenant thought.