Chapter Seven—If There's A Hell…
Newkirk slid under the cot, wearing the stethoscope Wilson had shown him how to use, and took Carter's hand, as Hogan and Wilson knelt down next down next to them. " 'ow ya doin', mate?"
"Not so good, Peter. What's happening? Why were they all here? I'm in trouble, right?"
Newkirk never took his eyes off his friend as Hogan spoke.
"They came to see you, Carter, because Wilson has to do another debridement, and there's no more morphine. It's gonna be really hard on you, but it has to be done, or things will be worse. We, me and Newkirk, will be right here for you the whole time. Wilson is gonna have to tie both your arms. Now that's gonna hurt, Andrew, but we have to keep you as still as possible. Newkirk is gonna be right down there, helping you through it, and I'm gonna be up here, helping Wilson. You can help by staying as calm as you can. Do you understand, Andrew?"
Carter grimaced, and then smiled. "Hey, Peter, it must really be bad. Col. Hogan called me 'Andrew' twice in a row!" The others in the room nearly lost their composure at this bit of humor; but recovered quickly.
Wilson stepped over, and motioned Hogan into place as he moved the tray with the sterilized instruments in place. He then had Hogan help him gently restrain both of Carter's arms. Hogan and Wilson both felt the young man trembling as they did so, and Newkirk had a hard time getting Andrew to release the death grip he had on his hand. Once they begin to tie his injured arm, suddenly his resolve seemed to harden. Newkirk slid quickly from under the bed and went to scrub his hands one more time. He was back under the cot almost before Carter realized he had left, since he had closed his eyes while the other two were working with his arms.
"Peter, can you do something for me?"
"Sure, mate, anything."
As the two of them heard various noises above them, Carter tensed when he felt the iodine* being painted on his back. The fear returned to his eyes, basically the only thing he could move "Please, Peter. Sing to me."
Newkirk told him, "I will, mate. As much as I can. I have to help Wilson, but I will."
Carter nodded, and shut his eyes, trying to relax. He trusted his friends completely.
And, as Wilson began the preparations for Carter's ordeal, Peter began to sing to him. The first song he sang was one that Andrew had taught him from when he was a child. And they were surprised when Andrew picked up the melody and sang along. Hogan was stunned by what he was hearing; he obviously owed Wilson an apology for doubting him! The song was one that explained much about exactly who their sergeant was. When the two friends sang the simple, beautiful melody together in their smooth, breathtaking tenor and baritone, Wilson was grateful he hadn't started anything yet, because he was as mesmerized as Hogan. The two men sang the song through a couple of times, their voices blending and weaving through the song as they followed each other through the melody. Both Hogan and Wilson could feel Carter relax as they sang.
"'Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free
'Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be,
And when we find ourselves in the place just right,
'Twill be in the valley of love and delight.
When true simplicity is gain'd,
To bow and to bend we shan't be asham'd,
To turn, turn will be our delight,
Till by turning, turning we come 'round right."**
After a few moments, Newkirk broke the spell by smiling up at Carter. "You ready, mate?"
Carter took a shuddering breath. The fear was in his eyes, but his trembling had stopped. He nodded. "Yeah. Yes. Let's go."
"Newkirk, I want you to keep track of his heart rate and respiration for me. Let me know if he starts breathing too fast or if his rate goes dangerously high. It should stay within the range I showed you. I am also placing a bowl of cool water and strips of sheeting down by you. Sponge his face with those.
"All right, folks, this is it. Andrew, just try to breath as slowly and evenly as you can. In through your nose and out through your mouth. If you feel sick, let Peter know. He's got a basin for that, too. Don't worry about anything, okay?"
Andrew smirked, "Easy for you to say…just don't sneeze, okay?"
Wilson and Hogan both rolled their eyes, marveling at Carter. Only Newkirk saw the fear. He smiled at his best mate, willing his strength into him, and the nightmare began.
Wilson began by rinsing the small bits of loose debris that had worked its way to the surface with saline solution. Fortunately, he had just enough gauze and solution for this session. He had Hogan ready with gauze clamped into forceps to blot away excess blood as he worked. Hogan found the experience of wearing a surgical mask and gloves a bit disorienting at first. He was also having a difficult time concentrating, due to the reality of the wounds themselves. Hogan had never seen anything like the damage he was now observing up close. Carter himself remained calm and quiet for this part of the procedure.
Newkirk checked his friend's heartrate, which was strong and steady. "You're doin' great, mate."
Carter said nothing, his eyes closed, concentrating on breathing slowly and steadily.
Newkirk nudged Hogan, who saw Wilson pick up a pair of forceps. He looked down at Newkirk and nodded silently. Newkirk slid back into place, took a deep breath and braced himself.
At first, as the forceps dug into the surface of the wound in his upper back, Carter did nothing more than grit his teeth and flinch. He could hear the plinking sounds as the debris hit the pan, and feel the sharp sting of the bite of each probe. So far, it wasn't so bad…like when he had stepped on a wasp nest as a kid…it hurt, but he could handle it.
Wilson shook his head as he saw exactly what he was afraid of. Some of the tissue in the wound was becoming infected, and there were still bits of slag deep inside the wound. These would both have to be come out, either with the forceps, or be cut out with a surgeon's knife. He spoke quietly, but calmly. "Colonel, be ready with those sponges." Hogan nodded.
As the forceps bit deeper, Carter groaned. Newkirk checked his heartrate, which had gone higher, but was still well within acceptable range. Peter watched his friend's chest rise and fall. It was still regular and even, but he was beginning to sweat. Peter wiped Carter's face with a cool cloth and began talking to him, about anything he could think of…birds he had known, antics his brothers and sisters had pulled, news from his cousin Hugh in the army in training in Montana, anything.
Wilson began to cut the infection away, and Andrew shuddered. He could feel his control going. So could Peter. "It's okay, mate. It's okay."
"Shut up, Peter!" Carter ground out. "Just—oh, shit—SHUT UP!" He inhaled convulsively and tears began to fall. Newkirk fell silent, and simply let his friend cry. Occasionally, he wiped Carter's face, but other than that, he let his presence be a quiet comfort for a little while.
Wilson had to trim deeper into the edges of skin and other tissue, and he kept praying Carter would pass out, but it never happened. He flushed the area with more saline, and as he expected, Carter finally screamed. It was a primal, guttural sound of pure agony. Hogan paled, but blotted the wound as Wilson directed. The medic then placed sterile dressings into the wound. He looked up into Hogan's eyes. "Ready to move on?" Hogan blanched, but nodded grimly.
Wilson called down to Newkirk, "How is he?"
"His heartrate is up quite a bit, and his breathing is regular, but faster than I'd like."
"Is his heartrate still within range?"
"Yeah. It's around 140, though."
"Try to calm him if you can."
Newkirk closed his eyes, and began to sing again. He knew only one sort of song that might help Andrew, and though it hurt him to sing these songs, he pushed the memories of his father aside and began to sing, his voice strong and clear, the way it had been those many years ago, at St. Dunstan's***
"Nearer, my God, to thee, nearer to thee!
E'en though it be a cross that raiseth me,
Still all my song shall be,
Nearer, my God, to thee;
Nearer, my God, to thee, nearer to thee!"
The wound across the middle of his back was much larger and deeper. And with Carter on the razor's edge of his control as it was, the next hour was pure hell. This area was where most of the slag had hit him as he had gone down during the explosion. Although Wilson knew exactly what he was doing, the necessity of working without any kind of pain relief was taking its toll on them all.
Throughout, Newkirk wiped his mate's face as Andrew sweated, and screamed and cursed. Perhaps in another circumstance, the men may have found it odd, the sacred songs mixed with the increasing violence of Carter's impotent cursing. Instead, it was only heartbreaking. Newkirk himself, felt sure that he would never be able to sing "Nearer, my God to Thee," one of Andrew's favorites, ever again. But for now, he sang it over, and over again, almost as a mantra. Newkirk realized if there was a Hell on Earth, his best friend was in it.
By the time the debridement on his middle back was finished, Carter's voice was raspy, and he was exhausted. Worst of all, his resolve was destroyed. He was in tears again. "Peter, please, please! Make him stop. I can't take anymore! Please, tell him to stop."
Newkirk didn't know what to say. He glanced up at Hogan, who had seen Wilson shake his head briefly, as he was busy concentrating. As he was unable to see Carter, Hogan spoke to him, a bit louder than he normally might, to make sure he heard him.
"Carter, can you hear me?"
There was some sniffling, and then Carter drew a deep breath. "Yessir."
"Okay, then listen to me. There's still some more to do and Wilson can't stop now. I know it hurts like hell, but if he stops, the infection we're seeing up here is just gonna spread, get worse and kill you. Is that what you want?"
"No, sir."
"Okay. Now, Klink gave me a present for you, and I already asked Wilson about it. When we get you patched up here and you recover some, we have a bottle of Schnapps in the barracks…the good stuff."
"The Kommandant did that, sir? Boy, that was sure nice of him. He didn't have to do that."
"Just proves he has a heart in there somewhere." Hogan chuckled.
Wilson had continued his work the whole time Hogan had been distracting his sergeant, starting on the preliminary probing of the third area, his lower back, which fortunately was the least injured part of his back. The wounds were not as deep and the debridement did not take nearly as long, though it was still quite painful.
Half an hour later as he and Hogan drew the sterile strips of sheeting over Carter's back, they both drew deep sighs of relief. Wilson looked into Hogan's eyes. "I cannot believe the stubborn bastard never passed out," he growled as he began stripping off the bloody gloves.
Hogan smiled ruefully. "I can."
~TBC~
A/N: * Iodine was first used as a pre-operative skin disinfectant in 1908 by surgeon Antonio Grossich.
** Any posted lyrics have been researched and are in the public domain, and are therefore allowed by FanFiction rules. Quoted lyrics to "Simple Gifts" are a traditional Shaker dancing song by Elder Joseph Brackett (1797-1882). Other lyrics have been added over the years, but as I do not know their provenance or status, I have chosen not to add them. When sung, these lyrics are very often sung in round form. Although I am not Shaker, (Indeed, sadly, there is only one small Shaker community left in the United States.) I learned this song very young, and have performed it numerous times with a close friend as part of a worship duo as a young adult. (The tune was used for "The Lord of the Dance.") There is a beautiful rendition of "The Lord of the Dance" by John McDermott on YouTube. "Nearer my God to Thee" was written by Sarah F. Adams in 1841.
***St. Dunstan's is the name of the oldest Anglican church in Stepney, having been established before 952 A.D. and still has a vibrant and active congregant today. It is located on Stepney High Street. Though much of Stepney was destroyed during the London Blitz, St. Dunstan's survived intact. I like to think Peter would have had something familiar to come home to in St. Dunstan's, which is why I chose it.
