(Point of a medic)

Today I started a letter,

"Dear Mary, I'm writing about a man who came in today. He was holding his stomach, he had mud packed onto his face, and it was so thick that you couldn't make out his features. I could tell he was in pain. He winced at every step he took. I couldn't watch without feeling sympathy for him. As quickly as I could, I walked over to him; I couldn't make out what had happened because of all the mud. All I could do was helping him walk over to the closest free bed, sitting him down I helped him take the top of his uniform off. There it was, a wound the size of your fist, not very big, but I could tell that it hurt, the way he winced at every step. The first thing I did was wash the packed mud away from his face and torso. Once I did I looked up at his face. The horror struck me. It was Peter, Peter Wilson. A very good friend from my childhood, I promised myself that I wouldn't tear up in front of him. I clean it out his wound, bandaging it up for him."

I had to stop and think about this.

You think why this would happen? It never happens to you. This is what would happen to someone else. What was the chance? Thinking about it now I'm glad I joined the army, being a medic here means helping our country, helping the soldiers recover, leaving this going home, to me would be betraying my country.

When I look at the mess we made, I think, that's what I'm here for. To help clean up the mess that we've made, it wasn't me who started it. Bu I will be here till the end.

Smiling slightly I got up from the little make shift chair that I had made from a crate, checking to go see Peter and his condition. he was sleeping, I could tell he was slowly getting better, I felt a jolt of happiness knowing that he was going to be alright.

I went back to my letter.

"I'm happy that I got to help him. Seeing him in pain stabbed my heart to see, I helped him get better. Me helping Peter made me realize that here, In the war helping the hurt. I will come home soon.

Love: Frances"

I looked out the door to see the rain. Beating down on the mud packed ground. Listening to a quiet pitter patter of the drops. Beating down on the mud packed ground.