THIRTY NINE


Dec. 24th: 1400 hours

"That takes care of your temperature and blood pressure," the nurse informed her patient. She recorded the information on his medical chart and put away her equipment, "Now, you need to drink the rest of this." In the Swamp, sitting near Major Winchester's cot, Lieutenant MacAllister was holding a cup of broth for the officer.

"I don't want any more. Go away and leave me alone," he told her between sneezes. "Let me suffer in peace."

"Sorry, you're my assignment for this shift and I'm not leaving," she handed the man a clean handkerchief, "So you might as well cooperate," she warned.

"I don't need anyone to look after me. I just need to be left alone."

"Nope. The Chief Surgeon decided otherwise."

Winchester muttered something that couldn't be understood. "I fail to understand why I'm the only one who caught pneumonia," he wheezed. "You and Pierce were out there longer than I was."

"Clean living?" MacAllister suggested with a smile.

"You...certainly. Pierce...never!" The man closed his feverish eyes, "I am so hot! And every bone in my body hurts."

"I know," she answered with compassion. "Charles, you need to finish the drink, take your medicine and get some sleep."

"Are you always this persistent?" He questioned.

"Are you always this obstinate?" She countered.

After the officer had taken his antibiotics and had swallowed the last of the liquid, he lay back down. Wearily, he asked, "Now, will you go away?"

"Nope," she replied evenly. She dipped a washcloth into a basin, squeezed out the excess water and gently sponged his face, neck and wrists. "This will help cool you down some." Completing her task, Sarabeth smiled at him, "There. Try to rest, Charles."

A brief knock was heard on the door to his tent.

"How can I rest? Everyone keeps dropping in to annoy me," he grumbled.

Colonel Potter entered the surgeons' tent. He was followed by the Australian officers, Davidson and Cochlan. "MacAllister, the captain has something he would like to say to you."

"Yes, sir," with a perplexed frown, she stood at attention before the men. She raised an eyebrow in a silent question to Cochlan. To her annoyance, he merely grinned at her expression.

"…And, it is a great privilege, as well a great pleasure to present you with this Commendation of Bravery medal for your meritorious actions on October 2nd, Lieutenant. On behalf of Her Majesty's Army, I thank you."

The officer started to attach the medal to the woman's shirt pocket. Hesitating because of the location, he pinned it on her shirt collar, instead.

"I thank you, sir, for this honor," was the softly drawled response from the red haired nurse.

Davidson added, "And, speaking for myself, and for my men; thank you for the beef you sent earlier…and for these." He displayed his new pair of leather gloves. "No frozen fingers with these."

"And, I have one more kudo to give out," Colonel Potter announced. He removed a small box from his jacket, "Winchester, this arrived today. It's your Purple Heart for the injuries you received during the mortar attack last month."

A series of sneezes and snuffles was the only response the man was able to give.

Shaking his head, the colonel gave the box to MacAllister. "Give this to 'Doctors Grumpy and Sneezy' later. Gentlemen, let's get out of here before we start sounding like that."

"Y'all be careful out there," Sarabeth instructed the visiting military men, "and stay warm."


"Some water, please," keeping his eyes closed against the light, Major Winchester spoke hoarsely.

"Yes, sir," the nurse on duty answered. With a glass in her hand, she helped the man to sit upright. She looked at her watch. "I'm glad you're awake. It's time to check your temperature and blood pressure, again."

"It is also time to take a trip outside," he answered. "All of those forced fluids are having their desired effect." Major Winchester slowly moved to the edge of his cot. "And so, if you will hand me my robe and slippers..."

"Not so fast, mister," Lieutenant MacAllister responded. "You have a bad cold and you should not be participating in the 50 yard latrine dash across the compound in sub arctic weather."

"Not to worry, my dear. I shall wear the thick bathrobe Honoria sent me as well as my eider down parka. I will certainly be warm enough."

"Sorry," the nurse replied in a no-nonsense tone. "Latrine visitation is not listed on my medical orders. You'll have to use the Army's version of indoor plumbing," she gestured to the urinal underneath his bed.

"That is unnecessary. I will only be gone for a few minutes."

"You are not leaving this tent," she said. "If you don't want to use that; okay. I can catheterize you, you know," MacAllister gave him a wicked grin.

The man replied with haughty defiance, "Not while I'm still conscious! Now, hand me my robe and slippers!" He ordered.

"Do I have to sedate you?" the lieutenant asked and arched an eyebrow at him in warning.

"You are extremely determined, aren't you?" he stared at her with equal resolve.

"That comes from rubbing elbows with stubborn Yankees."

"Who get annoyed at hard-headed Texans!" Charles Winchester winced and rubbed his forehead, "This argument is giving me a headache. Sarabeth, I propose a compromise. I shall remain inside the tent---if you will leave."

The woman grinned, "Some compromise. However, your water pitcher is empty. And I need to see if the mess sergeant remembered to heat some more beef broth for you." Her smile faded and she became business-like again, "You do understand that I am responsible for recording fluid output as well as fluid intake?"

"Understood. And so you shall. Now...shoo."

Sarabeth laughed. She reached for her stethoscope, "All right. I'll shoo. I get to take care of my business first, however. You know how irritable doctors get when vitals aren't taken on time," she said as she placed the blood pressure cuff on his arm.

"I know how irritable this doctor is going to get if you take your time," he retorted wryly.


"Thanks for the escort, Sergeant," Lieutenant MacAllister spoke to the man who had accompanied her back to the surgeons' tent. She was shivering, despite her warm clothes.

Once inside, setting the pitcher on the desk, MacAllister stood near the heater for warmth. Shaking her hair out of its covering, she looked at her patient with an arched eyebrow. Wordlessly, he pointed to the container near the door. The nurse grinned.

Winchester waited until she finished her record keeping before he spoke to her, "Sarabeth, please sit down." He patted the chair beside to his bed. With a smile, the woman sat next to him. "I apologize, my dear. I realize that I am a far better doctor than I am a patient."

"That's for sure and for certain!" Her smile softened her words. "And I apologize also, Charles. I'm concerned about you. And I don't like my patients trying to walk out on me."

"Believe me; I am in no shape to walk out of here. Crawl, maybe…but not walk," the man confessed with a weak grin.