The Bomber
By: AliasCWN
Chapter 1
He opened his eyes and tried to place the sounds he heard around him; moans and rustling...and whispers, female by the sounds of it. He moved his head to look around and the pain exploded behind his eyes. His moan mingled with the others in the room.
Soft hands touched his arm and a female voice made soothing sounds. He opened his eyes to look up into the concerned face of an army nurse. She smiled at him and reached for something above his head.
"Would you like some water?"
He nodded carefully, mindful of the pain lurking behind his eyes.
The nurse held the metal cup in front of his face. Cool fingers slid behind his neck, supporting his head. He tried to help but he discovered that he was weaker than he thought. The strain on his neck muscles made his head hurt again. He relaxed and let the nurse hold his head up for him.
The cool liquid that slid down his throat was the best thing that he had ever tasted. It was plain water but his throat was so parched that it seemed like the nectar of the gods; better than any water he remembered. He tried to get more but the nurse pulled the cup away from his lips.
"Easy. Easy. Too much will make you sick." She put the cup back on the stand where she found it and urged him to lie back. "I'll see that you get more later. Right now I need to check your bandages."
Bandages? He didn't remember having any bandages. Looking down he was surprised to see that his chest and arms were wrapped in pristine white bandages. Funny, he didn't remember seeing them before. He lifted his hand to run his fingers through his hair but his fingers met more bandages. Startled eyes rose to meet those of the nurse.
"Don't you remember being hurt?"
He shook his head slowly. The slow side to side movement didn't elicit the same response the earlier nod had generated. This time there was a moment of dizziness as the whole room started to spin. He closed his eyes quickly to quell the uprising of his stomach in response. It was unsettling to get dizzy just moving his head. He concentrated on the rough brush of the sheets against his back where the bandages didn't cover. When he felt balanced again he opened his eyes to look at the nurse.
"Where am I?"
"Base hospital. Don't you remember?"
"No." He croaked. He closed his eyes again as the effort to talk made his throat hurt.
The nurse looked into his face and frowned. "I'll get the doctor." Before he could ask another question she was gone.
His brow wrinkled into a frown as he tried to remember how he had ended up on in the hospital. The visions were hazy, fragmented, hard to piece together. He remembered a loud noise, not gunshots, louder. Trying to figure it out made his head ache again.
The nurse returned with a tall, muscular man with a white coat. She smiled at him as she indicated the man in white. "The doctor will help you understand what is happening."
He nodded slowly, eyeing the doctor as the nurse stepped back. The doctor took his wrist in a firm but gentle grasp and checked his pulse. Next he took the stethoscope from his pocket and checked his heart and lungs. The doctor pushed gently on his head until he relaxed on the pillow. Scooting a seat closer to the bed the doctor sat down so he could lean forward and check his eyes. He produced a small penlight from another pocket and proceeded to shine it into his eyes.
The light hurt and he pulled back involuntarily.
"Easy soldier, this will only take a second."
"Hurts."
"I know, but it's necessary."
"Why?"
The doctor chuckled. "Why? So I can determine the best treatment for you, that's why."
"Am I sick?"
"Sick?" The doctor paused. "No, not sick. You were injured in an explosion."
"An explosion? What blew up?"
"You did." The doctor explained. "You and half a dozen other men who were in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"Did the others make it?"
"Some did," the doctor explained as he slid back from the bed, "some didn't. Two were killed in the blast and another one died yesterday."
"Yesterday? How long have I been here?" The words were starting to slur as fatigue overtook him.
"Three days."
The doctor's voice faded as the light gave way to cool, blessed darkness.
The light in the room was weaker when he opened his eyes again. It was nearly nightfall he realized, the end of another day. What day though? He vaguely remembered the doctor saying that he had been in the hospital for three days. What had happened during those three days? What had he missed?
A different nurse stopped by his bed when she noticed that he was awake.
"Hello soldier. Is there anything I can get you? Are you in pain?" Her voice softened at the lost look on his face. "It's normal to be confused after head trauma. After all, you were very nearly blown up. Don't worry, things will clear up and you'll be back to normal in no time." She patted his leg to comfort him. "Would you like a sip of water?"
He nodded his head carefully. As he watched her reach for the water a tiny voice in his head chuckled. What is normal for us? He could hear the voice like the speaker was standing right over him but he couldn't associate it with a name or face. A second voice echoed in his head with a slow drawl, crazy works for us. He frowned. What kind of a comment was that?
"Here's your water." The nurse's voice drown out the others as she held the cup out to him. Once again cool fingers slid behind his neck to help him lift his head. This time he was expecting the weakness so he didn't even try to help. The nurse lifted his head slowly as he closed his eyes, expecting the room to spin. To his surprise he didn't feel any of the anticipated dizziness. Grateful for small improvements, he opened his eyes to see the cup in front of his lips.
He drank half of the liquid before the nurse pulled the cup away. She lowered his head and adjusted the pillow to what she thought was a more comfortable position. "Do you need pain meds? I can call the doctor."
He mentally did an inventory of his aches and pains. They weren't too bad; his earlier pain medications must not have worn off yet. "I'm okay." He managed to reply. To his relief he noticed that his voice wasn't as hoarse as it had been earlier.
"All right." The nurse nodded and smiled at him. "If you change your mind, just let me know."
"Okay." Like that was going to happen. He needed a clear head to figure out what was going on. There were too many unanswered questions for him to dull his senses with drugs. He turned his head to watch as the nurse stopped at the next bed.
"Is that one of the guys who got blown up with me?" He was proud that he had managed to get that entire question out without his voice breaking.
"Yes." The nurse answered while looking up at him expectantly. "Do you know him?"
He stared at the battered face of the young soldier. "I don't think so." He answered. "Who is he?" The left side of the boy's face was covered in still healing cuts. His light hair was sticking out of the bandages around his head like straw from a scarecrow. His chest was wrapped in bandages too.
The nurse looked at the chart at the end of the bed. "Jefferson, Alex."
Disappointment made him sigh. "That doesn't sound familiar. I don't think I know him."
"That doesn't surprise me. The explosion was at the motor pool. That's a pretty busy area of the base. I'm sure there are people coming and going there all of the time. I wouldn't expect anyone to know them all."
"I guess." He answered. "But I don't know why I was there either."
The nurse smiled sympathetically. "I can't help you there. Maybe some of these other guys can help when they wake up. They seem to know you." The nurse gave the chart one last look and went about her rounds.
They seem to know you. That comment made him realize that he didn't know who he was. He didn't even know his own name! That realization sent a shot of near panic through him. What if he never remembered? He looked around for the nurse. "Nurse!"
The nurse hurried back to his side. "What is it?"
"What if they can't help me?"
The nurse looked startled and confused at first but then understanding softened her expression. "According to your chart the doctor thinks your confusion is a result of the explosion. He expects you to remember everything and make a full recovery. These things take time."
He nodded thoughtfully. "I hope he's right."
"You were lucky to survive the blast." The nurse offered. "Not everyone did."
"I know." He replied. "I heard."
"You should rest now." She urged. "The doctor will check on you in the morning. If you need anything I will be doing the rounds regularly."
"Thank you."
She nodded and moved on to the next patient. This one stirred when she adjusted his blankets. A low moan issued from his lips and his body shifted restlessly. The nurse acted quickly to administer a shot of morphine, and then hovered over the patient until he quieted. She checked his pulse before moving on to the next bed.
He watched her check on each patient as she made her way down the long line of cots. Lying on his back he couldn't really see the faces of the other patients, only the ones on either side of him. They were both asleep and he couldn't ask them any questions. He tried to place them but neither of them looked familiar to him. Knowing that answers would have to wait until morning, he closed his eyes. Sleep was slow in coming as the questions tumbled around in his head.
Quiet voices penetrated his sleep. He opened his eyes to see the doctor standing at the foot of the next bed staring down at a clipboard in his hand. "Keep an eye on him and let me know immediately if there are any changes."
The day nurse nodded as she reached for the clipboard.
Jefferson, that was the patient's name. He remembered. Funny, he could remember the other guy's name but he couldn't remember his own. The nurse said the doctor expected him to make a full recovery, but she hadn't said when it would happen. He had a lot of questions and very few answers.
The doctor looked over and saw him watching. Handing the nurse the clipboard the doctor made his way around the bed. Stopping at his side the doctor looked down at him. "And how are you feeling?"
"Weak." He answered honestly. "And confused. I can't remember anything."
"It will come back." The doctor encouraged. "Just give it a little time."
"How much time? I can't help but feel that I've forgotten something, something very important."
"That's understandable." The doctor nodded. "Forgetting your past probably does leave you feeling lost."
He nodded, not at all satisfied with the answer.
"I want you to take it easy sergeant."
"Sergeant?"
"Yes, sergeant." The doctor confirmed. "Relax and enjoy the break from the war. You'll be back out there getting shot at soon enough."
"Shot at? I thought I got caught by a bomb."
"This time it was an explosion." The doctor nodded as he made a note on the chart at the foot of the bed. "But that was sabotage; it doesn't happen that often around here."
"How did it happen?"
"Someone planted a bomb in one of the trucks in the motor pool." The doctor explained. "They think it may have been a German sympathizer. No one has been caught yet."
"I don't remember." He shook his head. "I have this vague memory of a really loud noise."
The doctor nodded again and made another note on the chart. "That would be the bomb. If you remember that then you are already starting to get your memory back. Let it happen naturally Sergeant. Don't try to force it, it will only set you back." The doctor hooked the chart on the foot of the bed and smiled. "Rest Sergeant, it's the best thing for you."
With the nurse following the doctor moved on to the patient who had been moaning the night before. The patient was quiet now, sleeping comfortably. The doctor and the nurse continued to work their way down the row of patients. He wanted to call them back and ask them his name, but they were busy, and he didn't want to be a bother.
"Hey, are you all right?"
He turned at the question to face the soldier on the other side of him.
"You sure were out quite a while. I saw you fly back into that truck. You were out like a light."
He glanced down at the bandages on his body and shrugged. "I guess so."
"Your buddy didn't look so good either. Not as bad as you, but beat up pretty bad too." The soldier went on.
"My buddy?"
"Yeah, that guy over there."
He turned to look where the other soldier pointed but all he could see was a dark head with the blankets pulled up to the chin. He tried to sit up but his ribs screamed in protest. He relaxed again grateful that the world didn't start spinning and the drums in his head were muted.
"Are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine."
"That bomb sure did a number on a lot of guys, me included."
It took a minute for the meaning to register. The guy had seen him fly through the air; he had to have been at the motor pool or close to it. "You were there."
"Yeah." The soldier smiled. "And lucky to be alive. I was supposed to be picking up a truck. The dang thing blew up before I could reach it." The soldier grinned self-consciously. "But I guess that was a good thing, right? It could have been worse; it could have blown up after I reached it."
Ignoring the soldier's story he looked the soldier in the eye. "Do you know who I am?"
"Sure, almost everybody knows who you are. At least by reputation."
"But do you know my name?"
"Don't you?" The soldier looked at him curiously.
"I don't remember." He admitted. "I don't remember anything."
"Hey, that's too bad. But if you have questions maybe you had better ask those guys over there."
"What guys?" He twisted to see who the soldier meant. Two privates were making their way between the beds toward him. As they got closer they separated. One stopped at one of the other beds while the second one continued toward his bed.
"Hi Sarge! It's good to see you awake." The blond private stopped next to the bed and smiled down at him.
That bright smile was familiar, very familiar, but he still didn't have a name to go with it. The smile faded as he continued to stare at the private without returning the greeting.
"What's wrong Sarge?" Concern darkened the private's blue eyes. He looked around to see if anyone was bothering the sergeant.
"Sarge? The doctor told me I'm a sergeant, but what's my name? He didn't tell me that."
"Your name? What are you talking about Sarge?"
"He can't remember his name." The soldier in the next bed offered helpfully.
"Troy. Your name is Sam Troy." The blond private answered as he pulled up a chair. His expression turned from confused to worried, almost frightened. "What's going on Sarge? You aren't kidding are you?"
"I'm not kidding." He growled. "Sam Troy." He repeated. "What's your name?"
"My name?" The blond looked shocked. "Don't you remember me either?"
He shook his head.
"What about Tully?"
"Who is Tully?"
"Sarge!" The blond wailed. "Doc, you remember Doc at least."
"Yeah." He nodded. "I talked to him this morning. He's the one who told me I was a sergeant." Troy paused. "He told me my memory would come back but he didn't say when."
"Didn't he tell you your name?"
"No." Troy shook his head marginally, waiting to see if the movement made him dizzy. When it didn't he turned his head to look for the doctor.
The blond pulled his chair closer to the bed and made himself comfortable. "My name is Mark Hitchcock but you call me Hitch." The blond pointed to the private who had walked in with him. "That's Tully, Tully Pettigrew."
Troy nodded again. "Who is he talking to?"
The blond looked shocked again. "That's Doc. You said you talked to Doc this morning. Was Doc awake or wasn't he?"
"That's Doc? I thought you meant the doctor. Is Doc the medic for our unit? Is that why you call him Doc?" Troy frowned as he tried to sort out all of the information.
"It's his nickname. You gave it to him. We all call him Doc." Hitch answered. "He's not an official medic but he does most of the doctoring for our unit."
"That's why we call him Doc?"
"No." Hitch frowned. "We call him Doc cause he doesn't like being called Sarge."
"Why would you call him Sarge? I thought I was the sergeant."
"Doc has a doctorate in anthropology and he doesn't mind being called doc. It does help keep everyone from getting confused when we holler Sarge."
Troy nodded his head and instantly regretted it. "What's his real name?"
"Sergeant Jack Moffitt." Hitch answered.
"Moffitt? What kind of name is that?"
"He's English Sarge, remember?"
He was starting to get tired. The information was starting to get all jumbled in his thoughts. "What's an Englishman doing in our army?"
"He's not in our army." Hitch replied with another worried look. "He's in the British army but he's on loan to us. You asked for him, remember?"
"And we got him blown up?"
"Yeah, but you got blown up too." Hitch answered defensively.
Troy smiled weakly. "Yeah, I did, I guess."
"You don't remember that either." The blond stated.
"No." Troy closed his eyes as his headache returned with a vengeance.
"You'd better get some rest Sarge." The blond stood and pushed his chair back out of the way. "I'll come back later. Tully and I are helping out in the motor pool until you and Doc recover. With the explosion they're short on mechanics."
"Are you mechanics?"
Hitch shook his head and turned back to face him. "No Sarge, we're not mechanics. We drive your jeeps. We work for you." Hitch sighed. "You rest; I'll come back later and answer more questions for you."
Troy closed his eyes and Hitch took that as an agreement. Hitch rejoined Tully and the two young men left the building. Troy tried to sleep but slumber eluded him. Giving up after a while he opened his eyes to look around the room. To his surprise, Tully was once again sitting next to Sergeant Moffitt's bedside. He hadn't seen him come back in. He looked around but the one called Hitch hadn't returned.
Unable to sleep he spent the next hour watching the lean private read to the injured man in the bed. The private's fondness for the injured sergeant was evident in the way he gently adjusted the blankets and pillows on the bed.
The lanky private looked up and caught him watching. Throwing him a rakish grin the private stood up and placed his book on the bed next to the other sergeant. Stretching, he ambled over and stood next to Troy's bed. "Can't sleep Sarge?"
"I guess I slept too much earlier." Troy answered.
The private nodded. "I guess that can happen." He looked right and left to check the other patients. "These other guys don't seem to be having any trouble."
"I'm not these other guys." Troy growled.
Tully smiled. "You got that right Sarge." He pulled the chair Hitch had used closer to the bed. "We can talk if you want…as long as we keep our voices down. We don't want to disturb these other guys." Tully made himself comfortable as he waited for Troy to open the conversation.
Troy watched him until the silence began to get uncomfortable. The private looked back at him with calm brown eyes that seemed more amused than irritated. "You don't mind talking? You don't mind spending time answering my questions?"
Tully smiled and shook his head. "Ask away Sarge, I'll answer anything I can."
"I don't think Private Hitchcock wanted to answer my questions."
Tully shook his head. "Hitch would do anything for you Sarge. I think it shook him up a little that you don't remember things, especially us. But he would have answered anything you asked, he just had to go on duty. He'll be back."
Troy nodded, filing the information away for later. "So your name is Tully?"
"You remembered."
"Not really, Hitch told me." Troy admitted.
"Do you remember Hitch yet?"
"No, he's a stranger named Hitch who happens to know more about me than I know about myself." Troy growled. "I know I should know him, but I don't remember him."
"Hitch says the doctor thinks you'll make a full recovery, you just need to wait for it to happen." Tully smiled softly.
"Wait?" Troy repeated. "Again, I'm mostly guessing, but I have a feeling I'm not a big fan of waiting."
"Right again." Tully chuckled.
"So now what?"
Tully shrugged and grinned. "We could talk or you could try to get more rest. I'm sure the doctor would prefer you try to sleep."
"I'm tired, I'm just not that tired."
"Okay." Tully nodded. "What do you want to talk about?"
"Tell me about Sergeant Moffitt."
"Doc?"
"Yeah, Doc, what's he like?"
Tully smiled fondly as he glanced toward the man in question. "Doc's a quiet guy. He's real cool under pressure. Smart too. One of the smartest guys I've ever met. He does have a strange liking for going undercover and playing thief or spy. He speaks German and is the one who usually ends up getting sent into German strongholds to get information. Doc loves it though." Tully smiled again. "We've had to pull him out more than a few times but it doesn't faze him. He actually enjoys it. He says he likes a challenge."
"Do we get along?"
"You and Doc?" Tully asked for clarification.
Troy nodded.
"Sure." Tully nodded. "You two get along just fine. He's your second-in-command and between the two of you you keep us all safe."
"It doesn't seem like I kept him safe." Troy replied solemnly.
"It wasn't your fault." Tully assured him. "You got hurt too. Worse than Doc even." Tully frowned. "I don't think anyone expected someone to blow up the motor pool."
"What were we doing there?"
"You and Doc were dropping off orders for the motor pool to do some work on our jeeps. Hitch and I were on our way to supply to get what we needed to restock them for the next time out. We heard the explosion and ran back to help."
"Private Hitchcock said you were both working in the motor pool now."
"Hitch, Sarge, call him Hitch or he'll be upset. He's really worried about you. And yeah, we're both pretty handy around vehicles. With some of the mechanics hurt or killed in the blast they were short on help. We're running a lot of convoys and the Germans are hitting them. Quite a few of those trucks need to be repaired; it's keeping the place busy. With you and Doc in here, Hitch and I didn't have much else to do. The Captain figured we would stay out of trouble if we were kept busy in the motor pool."
Troy ignored that little gem in favor of more information. "What about the rest of my men?"
Tully shook his head. "We're not a squad Sarge; we're a long range desert patrol. We do mostly recon although we do manage to get in quite a bit of sabotage and taking out convoys. The four of us are it; there aren't any others, just us."
"Is Sergeant Moffitt going to be all right?" Troy suddenly felt guilty for not asking sooner. If they were friends that is the first thing he should have asked.
"Doc's a tough guy to kill." Tully glanced at the injured man again and nodded. "I think he's going to be okay. He was awake earlier. He was asking about you too. Of course, he remembers you." Tully grinned mischievously.
"You take care of him. Make sure he gets what he needs." Troy ordered.
"I'll take care of him Sarge, and I'll take care of you too. And Hitch will be back later to relieve me while I go on duty. We take care of each other, always have, always will. You just rest and let us take care of both of you. We got this Sarge."
Tully looked so confident that Troy felt that he could relax and let the two younger men do just that. He couldn't remember either one of them but he had a good feeling about them.
"I guess I'll try to get some sleep after all." Troy answered with a yawn.
"Good night Sarge."
"Good night." Troy watched as Tully returned to Sergeant Moffitt's bedside and picked up his book. His quiet narration of the book's content lulled Troy to sleep.