Disclaimer: I don't own anything and no disrespect is meant with this fic.
A/N: This was written for the HBO War-a-Thon on Tumblr. In Stephen Ambrose's book, he describes (briefly) an incident after a training exercise at Camp Mackall where Sobel was made a casualty for the medics to practice on. Sobel woke up with his pants pulled down and an incision similar to an appendectomy wrapped up with surgical tape and bandages. An investigation was never started because no one would come forward…I wanted to write about the medics in this situation!
After the debacle with Sobel's botched combat maneuver, the rest of Easy Company filed out in defeat, leaving their medics to watch their retreating backs with matching scowls. Sobel, muttering a string of curses long enough to run the three miles up, three miles down of Currahee, trudged back into the trees, dark hawk-like eyes avoiding the medics-in-training. He flopped onto the ground awkwardly to play victim with the others and waited to be attended to.
Problem was, medics Roe, Spina, and Pepping did not want to be the ones to administer treatment to the man who'd just gotten nearly their entire company annihilated in a mock battle exercise. Unfortunately, the other medics were wandering away with the men they'd treated, so they had no other choice. If it were up to them at this point in time, they would have rather left him there as punishment, like a child scolded and sent to stand in the corner. Edward Pepping, a young man with sharp eyes and a permanent half-mischievous smirk, finished treating one of their fellow troopers, wrapping bandages and pretending to stick him with a morphine syringe before sending him on his way. He approached Spina, who was glaring at their combat leader but not making a single move toward him.
"Got a coin?" he asked. "We could flip for him."
Despite the fact that his fists were shaking with rage, Ralph Spina chuckled.
"I ain't touching him."
They walked over to where Eugene Roe had already wrapped a bandage around the other trooper's head and was now creating a makeshift sling for his left arm.
"Hey, Gene, wanna go play doctor for Herby?" Pepping asked, keeping his voice low and throwing a suspicious glance in Sobel's direction. He was more than several feet away, staring up at the overcast sky while lying on the forest floor. There was no doubt in their minds that when one of them did amble on over, he would make a comment about their shoddy response time, therefore rendering him a battlefield fatality.
Though, to be completely fair, it had been his fault in the first place.
Roe looked up at them with dark blue eyes seething with leftover anger at the very mention of Sobel. "You fellas have fun."
"If I go over there, I might not be so careful with all these sharp tools I happen to be carryin' with me," Spina declared, gesturing to his medic's bag.
The soldier in Roe's care laughed. "That ain't a bad idea."
Three pairs of eyes turned to look at him, but only Pepping questioned, "What?" while raising one prominent eyebrow.
"You know," he motioned animatedly with the arm that wasn't in a sling, "Practicing on him. Gotta learn sometime, right? I'd feel a bit safer knowing you medics, uh, got some hands-on experience."
Roe, Pepping and Spina exchanged looks, silently deliberating. They were here to practice in preparation for treating real wounded men, so a little experience with minor surgical procedures fit the bill as well. Roe's scowl quickly turned into an eager smirk as he fished a bottle of anesthetic out of his medic's bag.
He tossed it to Spina, who caught it easily. "Knock him out first."
"You're giving me the honor? I'm touched," Spina grinned. He elbowed Pepping in the arm, nodding his head toward Sobel. "C'mon, Eddie."
Before Spina could set off, Pepping grabbed his arm. "Maybe we should get the anesthetic ready before we go over there. If waste any time and Sobel sees it, he'll catch us and give us hell. We'll get kicked out faster than he can scream hi-ho silver."
"Yeah, yeah," Spina agreed. "All right. Gene, got a handkerchief or somethin'?"
Roe tugged a piece of white cloth out of one of his pockets while he stood and left the other trooper to find his way back to camp. Spina popped the cap off the bottle and took the handkerchief from his fellow medic, dousing it in the clear, yet pungent, sedative. The three of them then proceeded to march over to their combat leader—although the term leader was highly questionable at the moment—with a clear objective.
"Operation: Black Swan is a go," Spina murmured.
Pepping and Roe stifled their laughter and hid their smirks, walking in silence with their boots crunching the soil and leaves beneath their feet. They crept up on him, using the stealth training he had put them through but did not seem to possess himself. They rushed at Sobel after the count of three from an angle where he could not see who was who, and when it was all over, they had an unconscious combat leader at their mercy. Spina kept the handkerchief pressed over Sobel's mouth and nose a few moments longer, making sure he was absolutely knocked out to the point where he wouldn't wake up during their procedure.
"I'd say we got a bad case here, fellas," he said, smirking, "Looks grim."
"Tends to happen when you're in the wrong place at the wrong time," Pepping remarked slyly.
"What do you suppose we should do with him?" Roe asked.
"I got shaky hands when it comes to the scalpel," Pepping told him. "I might do something regrettable."
"How 'bout you, Spina?" Roe asked.
"I knocked him out for you," he reminded. "You can cut him open."
Roe grimaced. "All right, one little incision and that's it."
"We could make like we're taking out his appendix," Pepping suggested. "Can't hurt too bad."
Roe nodded. "Practice is practice."
Pepping knelt on the ground beside Roe and went to work unbuckling Sobel's belt, tugging his pants down around his knees. Spina went into a fit of laughter, turning his face away to compose himself. Pepping's impish grin spread across his face, pleased with his childish antics.
"Hey, Ed," Spina whispered, "You think the Captain's overcompensating?"
"I ain't checking, Ralph. You're a sick bastard."
They both glanced over at Roe, who was pulling Sobel's field jacket open. He caught them staring at him expectantly and frowned.
"No."
Roe pushed up the white t-shirt Sobel was wearing underneath, exposing his stomach. Spina handed his fellow medic the scalpel and he and Pepping flanked Roe to watch the procedure. He felt them breathing down his neck and turned sharply.
"Nothin' like a little pressure, fellas," he stated.
"I have every confidence in ya, buddy," Spina said, roughly clapping him on the back. Roe's hand jostled dangerously close to Sobel's midsection, the scalpel nearly making a large gash in the sensitive skin.
All three medics let out an audible gasp.
"Jesus, Ralph!" Pepping shouted.
"Are you trying to kill him?" Roe scolded.
"Sorry! Sorry! Christ, just get it over with so we can go already. What'd we care if we kill him, huh? If you don't remember, he got the entire company killed today."
"Yeah, well, I'm not gettin' kicked out of the Airborne for killin' a man under the knife."
Roe took another deep breath, and the two other medics backed off. With careful, steady hands, he placed the scalpel on the delicate skin below Sobel's bellybutton, on the lower right side of his stomach. He then made a well-calculated incision, drawing a thin line of blood. Pepping was at his side at once with bandages and Spina had the surgical tape covered; the three of them made sure to fix him up tightly to stem what bleeding there was. And after all the evidence was discarded, the medics stood and admired their work and saw that it was good.
"What're we doin' with him now?" Roe asked. "He's still out cold."
"The hell with him," Spina answered. "Leave him here."
"He'll find his way back when he wakes up," Pepping agreed.
"I dunno fellas," Roe smiled. "He's not too smart with a map."
They chuckled. "Let's get going," Pepping declared, throwing a last glance and a salute to their combat leader.
"Operation: Black Swan is a success, gentlemen."