Books » Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew » Hardys at War
Author: sparkles321
1. Chapter 12. Chapter 23. Chapter 34. Chapter 45. Chapter 56. Chapter 67. Chapter 78. Chapter 89. Chapter 910. Chapter 1011. Chapter 1112. Chapter 1213. Chapter 1314. Chapter 1415. Chapter 1516. Chapter 1617. Chapter 1718. Chapter 1819. Chapter 1920. Chapter 2021. Chapter 2122. Chapter 2223. Chapter 23
Rated: T - English - General - Reviews: 96 - Published: 06-28-13 - Updated: 01-23-14
id:9437155
Hello, my lovelies! I've been thinking, you need a name. Since my username is sparkles321, what do you think of me calling you my sparklers? Kind of a play on words, and sparklers are so cool.(you know,those little fireworks)Let me know what you think! This chapter is centered on Frank, during the Allied invasion of Italy. It's now early 1943, since it took them about a year to go through training. Hardy Gal - I don't know who Steve Rogers is, sorry! I like your other ideas, though! I'm intrigued- what do you mean about Joe being blonde and blue eyed like the Nazis wanted? Tell me more!
*this next chapter is a little bit T. This is a war, after all. Nothing too bad, but, towards the end, it gets a little bloody.*
Frank stirred in his sleep and sat up quickly, hitting his head on the bunk above him. Someone was shaking him. It was Doc, and he looked serious. He beckoned for Frank to follow him quietly, not wishing to wake the other men. Curious, Frank followed Doc to one of the cabins reserved for training lectures. The three other medics from their company, Company B, were seated at a table. Frank surveyed their faces swiftly. Matthew Smith, who was a little older than Frank, looked worried, but he smiled at Frank and waved as he entered. Dr. Henning, Doc's good friend who had served with him in the Great War, looked oddly excited. And Charles Grand ,in his mid-twenties, looked nervous. A few commanding officers were also seated, and Frank wondered why they were here. He wasn't in trouble, was he?!
Doc, the unofficial leader of the medical personnel for Company B, cleared his throat and approached the front of the room. "Our ship will dock off the coast of Italy in a few days," he began. "Their are many companies on board. Our company and two other American companies will join three British companies and one Canadian company. They've been selected for an invasion of Sicily. You are all aware of the choice President Roosevelt gave the Italian people?"
They nodded, and Matthew answered "They could choose to side with Hitler and Mussolini, and face an inevitable death, or side with the Allies, and-" Doc cut him off.
"Exactly. If we succeed, we overthrow Mussolini. That's our main objective."
One of the officers spoke now."The troops have been preparing for something like this for quite some time,but we can't tell them what. Everything is classified. All you will need to know and do is follow your company wherever they go and render aid." He paused, and added,"Prepare medical supplies, and lots of them. This is going to be a vital battle, but it will have an enormous cost." He left then, flanked by the other officers.
Doc spoke again, his voice a little softer. "We will be preparing medicines, sharpening needles, and rolling bandages. I've arranged for everything to be brought in here, where we will work on it."
Twenty-four hours later, Frank was thoroughly convinced he never wanted to see another medical instrument. He was exhausted and they still had to prepare and pack for a grueling hike with their company. Matthew dropped to the floor tiredly. "Frank, I think I'm gonna see bandages in my sleep!"
Thomas arrived just then with a plate of rolls. "I got stuck on K.P., and we had some leftovers. Thought you might be hungry."
The group swarmed around him, shouting their thanks as they grabbed a roll and headed off to their next tasks.
"There is one thing you must always remember."
It was now exactly twelve hours until the ship docked, and Doc was going over last minute rules.
"You must train yourself to listen. There is screaming and explosions and shots and cannon fire, but you must listen for just one word - "Medic." As soon as you are called, assess the situation as quickly as possible. Is it a 'happy' wound, such as a slight bullet graze or a first degree burn? Then treat the wound, have them sit for a little while, and send them back out. If not, get the seriously injured to the infirmary tent, where we will treat them and place them back on the ship." Doc paused and added, "You're all going to do fine. Whatever happens, we must face it as it comes. Now get some rest."
Frank headed to his bunk, but he couldn't help wondering if Nancy, the pretty Red Cross volunteer, would be with his company.
As spoon as their feet splashed upon the rocky shore, Frank knew their grueling day had begun. It was just before dawn, and the moon cast a dim glow, making twisted strands of barbed wire appear eerily beautiful. The barbed wire was to make it difficult to cross the beach, and it served another, unnerving, purpose. Whoever had put the barbed wire up had known they were coming. The other men in his company were silent, save for a few making small talk among themselves. Frank marched between Matthew and Thomas, and they spoke of home and jobs and girls -anything and everything but this battle.
Soon they had crossed the beach and were now marching through a little town, dark and deserted. Boards were haphazardly nailed to windows, and it gave the impression that the inhabitants had left in a hurry. They prodded on. By the time they reached the other two divisions, it was noon. They were setting up a camp in a large meadow.
"Hardy, Smith, set up the infirmary tent, and be quick," Doc ordered. Matthew and Frank where arranging medicine bottles and needles on the makeshift shelves when they heard it. A shot. Neither boy could honestly say who fired first. All they knew was that it was total, utter, chaos.
Italian and German troops surged up into the field,screeching and yelling, firing wildly. The Allies were defending their ground bravely, but Frank couldn't stand around gaping. He had a job to do.
"Medic!"
He heard it somewhere to his right. Before he knew it, he was running, running into the smoke and fighting men. A grenade exploded somewhere behind him, sending dirt raining down, but he ignored the dirt and, scrambling up again, found the man who'd called.
"Medic?"
"Yes, sir." Blood was spreading on the man's arm, rusty red against his olive grey uniform. Ripping the sleeve off, Frank inspected the wound critically. The bullet had torn through the flesh and went out again, narrowly missing any bone. He cleaned it quickly, then wrapping a bandage around it tightly to stop bleeding or infection, assessed the man. The wound was not life threatening, but it might have stunned the soldier slightly, and his arm was most certainly sore.
"Let me help you to the infirmary!" He had to scream to be heard over the shooting.
After getting the man to a cot and telling him to rest for a day, Frank went back out.
"Medic!"
He had treated several more wounds that were not fatal before he heard the feeble cry. A soldier was lying in a pool of red liquid, and he was very, very still. Frank squared his shoulders and hurried over. The man's face was contorted with pain, and there was a hole just below his chest. A bloody, gaping hole. He stared at Frank unblinkingly. Seeing Matthew walk by, looking for wounded, Frank snapped the collapsible stretcher open. "Matthew!"
It took both of them to carry the man, weaving in and out of gullies and fighting. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion, and Frank was impatient. If they didn't hurry, this man would die!
Once in the infirmary, Frank struggled to keep calm. There was no way this man could live.
"Sir?" The man grasped out. It took Frank a minute to realize the man what addressing him.
"Sh, don't try to talk," Frank managed, astonished the man had not went unconscious from the sheer pain.
The man ignored his reprimand.
"Sir, am I going to die?"
Frank froze in the middle of bandaging the man's chest. What could he say? He patted the man's shoulder. "You're going to do just fine, soldier,"he said, hoping his voice didn't waver. The man smiled and leaned back.
"I thank you,sonny." He closed his eyes, and for a second Frank thought he was merely unconscious. But when he felt for a pulse, there was none. Doc emerged then, from the shadowy edge of the tent where he'd been watching. He looked to Frank. "You handled that very well, my boy."
Frank, to his utter horror, found himself choked up, and had to wait a minute before replying , "Thank you, sir." Doc nodded."I'll take over from here. You go back out now." Frank nodded. He worked blindly now, almost oblivious to the fierce battle raging before him. That night, at long last, the battle was over. The Allies had succeeded, but there would be many more battles like this. He made his way to his assigned tent and fell asleep quickly, too tired to even dream.