Izzy now had a tent to herself, on the outskirts of camp. It wasn't very
big, a little smaller than Hotlips' tent. She'd been given a spare cot, and
a footlocker, though she had nothing to put in it, except the shirt she'd
come in, and her one sandal. Other than that, her tent seemed very empty.
'You can buy things to put in it later,' Hawkeye said as the three of them looked around.
'Maybe you can ask whoever goes on leave next to get you something,' BJ suggested. Izzy nodded. She didn't mind the emptiness much, but it reminded her of her old life in Sydney. Once or twice she'd rented out a house for a week or more, and they all looked like this. A mattress she'd borrowed from a friend, and a suitcase of stolen things. Thinking of her life in Sydney made her wonder how she's cope if she was suddenly sent back, she didn't want to be out of practise when she was living on the streets again.
'Come on, dinner time,' Hawkeye said, gently pulling Izzy out of her new home. They walked towards the mess tent, Izzy still deep in thought. She's best keep in touch with her shoplifting skills, just to be on the safe side. She wasn't the eleventh most sought after thief in Sydney for nothing.
'You ok, Izzy? You haven't said a lot,' BJ said concernedly. Izzy shook her head slightly to clear her thoughts, and realised she was standing in the queue to be served, a few feet to the left of Hawkeye, and an angry bunch of nurses waiting for her to move forwards.
'I'm fine,' Izzy said to BJ. A few tables behind them, Izzy heard Radar drop his knife and fork.
'Incoming wounded!' he said through a mouthful of food. He swallowed quickly, and repeated himself more loudly. 'INCOMING!' Hawkeye and BJ groaned, and put their trays down before running out. Klinger noticed Izzy looking a little lost by herself and grabbed her arm.
'Come on, stick with me and I'll look after you,' he said, taking her outside. Ambulances had already arrived, and they were being unloaded quickly.
'Klinger! Izzy! Get this one into pre op now!' Potter yelled. Izzy followed Klinger to a man on a stretcher and Izzy picked up one end. Izzy almost dropped her end when she saw the boy she was carrying. He must have been a few years older than her, with blond hair now turned red and black from blood and dirt.
'Come on, Izzy, ignore the blood,' Klinger said through gritted teeth. It must have been hell for him as well. Izzy helped Klinger take the soldier inside.
**~~*~~*~~*~~**
Once the doctors had scrubbed up and began cutting up the men on the tables, Izzy ran out and was violently sick in the bushes outside of camp. She'd managed to not think about what she was doing until the doctors had little use for her, but she still felt upset that she had such a weak stomach.
'Are you alright, my child?' Father Mulchay had followed her outside.
'I'm ok. . . I think,' Izzy said, before spewing again.
'It's alright to be disturbed by what you see here. It's perfectly natural,' Father Mulchay told her.
'It's so much more real. . .' Izzy trailed off.
'Than it is back home? I know,' Father Mulchay comforted her. 'I believe I felt unwell after I saw my first lot of wounded. So much blood, so many innocent lives.'
'Do you get used to it?' Izzy asked.
'Yes. . . and no. You feel more comfortable around the newly arrived wounded after a while, but you never get used to what they look like,' Father Mulchay replied.
'I want to go back and help now,' Izzy said eventually.
'Are you sure?' The priest looked worried.
'Yes.' Izzy stood up and looked determinedly at the OR. Then she was sick for a third time.
'You can buy things to put in it later,' Hawkeye said as the three of them looked around.
'Maybe you can ask whoever goes on leave next to get you something,' BJ suggested. Izzy nodded. She didn't mind the emptiness much, but it reminded her of her old life in Sydney. Once or twice she'd rented out a house for a week or more, and they all looked like this. A mattress she'd borrowed from a friend, and a suitcase of stolen things. Thinking of her life in Sydney made her wonder how she's cope if she was suddenly sent back, she didn't want to be out of practise when she was living on the streets again.
'Come on, dinner time,' Hawkeye said, gently pulling Izzy out of her new home. They walked towards the mess tent, Izzy still deep in thought. She's best keep in touch with her shoplifting skills, just to be on the safe side. She wasn't the eleventh most sought after thief in Sydney for nothing.
'You ok, Izzy? You haven't said a lot,' BJ said concernedly. Izzy shook her head slightly to clear her thoughts, and realised she was standing in the queue to be served, a few feet to the left of Hawkeye, and an angry bunch of nurses waiting for her to move forwards.
'I'm fine,' Izzy said to BJ. A few tables behind them, Izzy heard Radar drop his knife and fork.
'Incoming wounded!' he said through a mouthful of food. He swallowed quickly, and repeated himself more loudly. 'INCOMING!' Hawkeye and BJ groaned, and put their trays down before running out. Klinger noticed Izzy looking a little lost by herself and grabbed her arm.
'Come on, stick with me and I'll look after you,' he said, taking her outside. Ambulances had already arrived, and they were being unloaded quickly.
'Klinger! Izzy! Get this one into pre op now!' Potter yelled. Izzy followed Klinger to a man on a stretcher and Izzy picked up one end. Izzy almost dropped her end when she saw the boy she was carrying. He must have been a few years older than her, with blond hair now turned red and black from blood and dirt.
'Come on, Izzy, ignore the blood,' Klinger said through gritted teeth. It must have been hell for him as well. Izzy helped Klinger take the soldier inside.
**~~*~~*~~*~~**
Once the doctors had scrubbed up and began cutting up the men on the tables, Izzy ran out and was violently sick in the bushes outside of camp. She'd managed to not think about what she was doing until the doctors had little use for her, but she still felt upset that she had such a weak stomach.
'Are you alright, my child?' Father Mulchay had followed her outside.
'I'm ok. . . I think,' Izzy said, before spewing again.
'It's alright to be disturbed by what you see here. It's perfectly natural,' Father Mulchay told her.
'It's so much more real. . .' Izzy trailed off.
'Than it is back home? I know,' Father Mulchay comforted her. 'I believe I felt unwell after I saw my first lot of wounded. So much blood, so many innocent lives.'
'Do you get used to it?' Izzy asked.
'Yes. . . and no. You feel more comfortable around the newly arrived wounded after a while, but you never get used to what they look like,' Father Mulchay replied.
'I want to go back and help now,' Izzy said eventually.
'Are you sure?' The priest looked worried.
'Yes.' Izzy stood up and looked determinedly at the OR. Then she was sick for a third time.