Chapter 4 – Don't Let Him Die
Dawn was just breaking, Pawel, Borys and Andrezj lead the way back to the safe house, they were feeling jubilant at helping to rescue Dawid Mazur from the Germans. They were also very aware of the quiet, dark-haired man bringing up the rear behind Garrison. Now they'd seen him in action and realised how deadly he could be they took his order to keep the Lieutenant out of danger very seriously. Borys could still feel Chief's blade flying past his ear to embed itself in the German's throat, he smiled to himself as he imagined telling his family the story of how the Navajo warrior had saved his, Borys' and Andrezj's lives. That was a story he could tell his children, if he survived the war long enough to marry and have some.
The three Resistance men walked past a small copse of trees, they stopped and gave it a quick visual check before carrying on. Garrison stopped and watched them before turning round. "Walk next to me Chief, you don't have to be one step behind me all the time."
Chief stepped forward. "Thought my job was to watch your back."
Garrison laughed. "Not literally, I've got a very boring back, walk by my side."
Chief smiled, his eyes rose up to meet Garrison's, his expression turned to one of horror as his gaze travelled over the Warden's shoulder and saw movement where there shouldn't be any. "Get down," he yelled as he pushed Garrison out of the way, he brought up his rifle and fired.
Pawel, Borys and Andrezj whirled round as they heard the shout and then the shots. They watched as Garrison fell to the ground, Chief standing over him and firing into the copse. They ran back, firing at the German soldiers that had suddenly appeared, they must have been well hidden in the trees.
Garrison heard the shots and felt a bullet hit his upper arm as he staggered and fell. He looked up to see Chief standing over him, protecting him from the attack. Gunfire echoed all around as he saw the three young Poles running back, guns ablaze. The firing stopped, he crawled forward and stood up slowly, he felt his arm and winced. "That's gonna need stitches, luckily it's a through and through."
He turned to Chief and froze, his scout's shirt was soaked in blood. Chief turned to him, looked at his wounded arm and reached out a hand. "You ok Warden? Sorry, should've known they were there." His gun arm dropped and his rifle fell to the ground. Blood seeped from his mouth as he staggered forward into Garrison's arms and collapsed.
Garrison fell to his knees on the ground along with his scout, he watched as Chief's eyes rolled up and closed, his head lolled back. "Oh God no, Chief!" he yelled. "Don't you leave me, you hear me? Stay with me." He looked helplessly up at the three young Poles. "Help him," he shouted hoarsely.
Borys looked at the other two. "Take them to Uncle Gustaw, now." He turned to Garrison. "Uncle Gustaw is the Head Doctor at the local hospital, we will take you there." He saw Garrison's objection and shook his head. "Do not worry, the family will protect you. No-one will know you are there, I promise you that." He looked down at Chief. "This is the least we can do. This was our fault, we should have seen the ambush but we didn't."
Garrison gathered Chief's body in his arms and struggled to stand. He shook his head as Pawel stepped forward to take him. "Chief's my scout, he's my responsibility, I'll carry him." He knew it would be a long, hard journey but he needed Chief to know that he was there, willing him to live. He looked down at the young Navajo's face, it was deathly pale. "Don't you dare die, you hear me?" he whispered. He looked at Borys. "Lead the way."
GG-GG-GG
Garrison pushed away the nursing staff as they tried to tend to his arm. He followed Chief as he was taken into a consulting room. Doctor Nowak examined his newest patient and frowned. "I must operate now!" He watched the American's face as his nephew interpreted.
Garrison grabbed his hand. "Please save him. What can I do?" He looked at Borys as he interpreted. Uncle Gustaw smiled at him grimly. "Tell him to pray." He watched Garrison's face as his nephew relayed the message. The man seemed to crumple in on himself in misery, he looked at the Doctor and nodded. "Please, do what you can."
Gustaw didn't need a translation, he nodded and indicated for the patient to be taken into the operating room. The expression on Garrison's face had been enough, he looked at his operating team. "This man does not die, do you understand me?" They looked at each other and then nodded. "Good, let's begin."
Garrison watched as Chief was taken away, he desperately hoped he knew he was there for him. He looked around. "Pray" the doctor had said. He wondered if Navajos had a God, if so how would he contact Him? He knew Chief liked to be outside, would his God hear him if he was outside? He walked out and found a small memorial garden, he sat down on a bench, bowed his head and sent out a heartfelt prayer addressed to whoever could hear him. "Please save him, I'll do whatever you want but please save him."
Garrison sat outside for nearly an hour, repeating his request to the heavens. At last he stood up, took one last look at the sky and walked back into the hospital. He walked to the waiting room and sat next to Borys. "Any news?" Borys shook his head, Garrison looked down and felt a lump rise in his throat, Chief was going to die because he'd been protecting him, his mind screamed out to whoever was listening. "Don't you dare let him die!" A nurse walked over and pointed to his arm. Borys looked at him. "Your wound must be seen to, I will stay here and wait for news."
Garrison reluctantly followed the nurse and submitted to her ministrations all the while looking at the door and wanting to be back waiting for news on his scout. Garrison paused, he realised he now thought of Chief as his scout. He stopped to consider that, he might be the team's scout but he invariably stood at his side and watched his back. He recalled Chief's apology for letting him get wounded, he thought he'd let him down. The words he'd shouted at Pawel came back to him. "Chief's my scout, he's my responsibility." He became aware of something else even more important. "He's my friend," he said to himself and let that unexpected fact sink in to his consciousness.
Garrison walked back down to the waiting room and sat by Borys, he looked at the door to the operating room and readied himself for the wait. Three hours later Gustaw walked through the door, Garrison rose and looked at him expectantly. Gustaw talked to his nephew. Borys turned to Garrison. "My Uncle says the operation went well. Chief is in recovery, do you want to see him?"
Garrison grabbed the doctor's hand and shook it. "Thank you. Yes, please take me to him, I'm not going anywhere until he's recovered and can travel." He looked up and sent a silent thank you.
Gustaw lead him to a small room, it held a chair and a bed. Garrison strode over to the chair, picked it up and placed it next to the bed, he sat down and looked at the quiet figure lying there. "I'm here Chief. Now all you got to do is get well," he said quietly as he settled down and prepared himself to keep vigil for as long as it took. Gustaw closed the door and walked away, he hadn't told Garrison how bad the wound had been, it had been touch and go but the Indian was a fighter and survived the surgery. He knew the Lieutenant wouldn't leave the young man's side and he hoped that would be enough to pull him through, the next few days would tell.
Garrison took off his boots and rested his feet on the end of the bed. He rested his head on one hand and thought about what had happened. Why would Chief push him out the way and take the bullet meant for him? In all his army career no-one had ever done that and he'd been in some dangerous situations in North Africa with men he'd considered close comrades. Chief had known him for only a few months and yet had not hesitated to save him. Would any of the others have done the same? He doubted it, in fact if he'd brought Casino along as originally planned they'd both be lying dead in the middle of a field and the mission would have failed before it had even started. It suddenly struck him that Chief had saved his life four times in two missions. He bowed his head and sent out one last silent prayer. "Please don't let him die, he's my friend, I need him by my side."
Gustaw told Garrison through Borys that patients could hear what was going on around them even if they seemed unconscious. He encouraged him to talk to Chief, it didn't matter what he talked about, just as long as he could hear his voice. Garrison sat in the quiet room and talked about anything and everything that came into his head from his favourite food to his trips to pre-war Europe, he told him his favourite stories from memory and even ran a few jokes past him to see if he could get a response, whenever he ran out of subjects he simply asked Chief to keep living and come back from wherever he was.
GG-GG-GG
Forty eight hours later Garrison was exhausted. Chief had developed a high fever and had difficulty breathing. Gustaw and the nursing staff were continually coming in and out to tend to him. Garrison would leave the room while they were performing the more intimate activities, he thought Chief might get embarrassed if he knew he was there. He'd take the opportunity to freshen up and have a walk around the memorial garden to remind whoever was looking down that he was still there and expecting a miracle. The cold air helped to wake him up, ready to go back in again and watch over his scout. A few hours later he was relieved to be told by Borys that the fever had broken and Chief's breathing was easier. He settled back in his chair and started talking again.
Chief took a deep, painful breath and struggled to regain his senses, he looked around the room and paused as his gaze rested on Garrison. The Warden was asleep in a chair next to him and he didn't look comfortable, his bandaged arm was held over his chest and his legs were stretched out resting on the end of his bed. Chief took in his dishevelled clothing and tired, stubbled face, he didn't remember him looking like that the last time he saw him.
He frowned as he tried to remember what had happened, they'd been ambushed and the Warden got wounded. Where were they? Were they still in Poland? How long had they been been here? Why was Garrison still here? He had to find out. "Hey Warden," he whispered, his voice was hoarse and his throat was dry.
Garrison's eyes flew open, his feet thumped to the floor as he threw himself forward, the relief in his voice was palpable as he grabbed Chief's hand. "You're ok, thank God."
Much to his own surprise Chief briefly returned the Warden's grip. "How long I been out?"
"Four days." Garrison rose to go to the door to let Borys know to summon his Uncle. He walked back and collapsed into his chair. "You had me worried for a while there, I thought I'd lost you."
Chief looked at the Warden in surprise. "You been here four days?"
Garrison smiled gently. "Where else would I be Chief?"
Chief thought about the last few days. In his state of semi-consciousness he'd heard many different voices talking a language he didn't understand but among them was one voice he knew, it was Garrison talking to him, encouraging him to live. He'd held on to that voice and let it guide him back. He looked at the man who'd done the impossible by earning his trust and now his loyalty, the man who'd stayed with him instead of going back to England and safety. "Thanks Warden." It didn't seem enough.
GG-GG-GG
Doctor Nowak hurried into the room, he burst into a huge smile as he saw his patient was awake and talking. Borys followed ready to resume his role as interpreter. Chief squinted hard at the white coated man, "Uncle Gustaw?" he croaked as he recognised him.
Borys nodded enthusiastically, "Yes, Uncle Gustaw is the Head Doctor in our little hospital. You are in a private room, we have made sure no-one knows you are here. You are both safe."
Gustaw turned to his nephew and spoke. Borys listened and translated. "My Uncle would like to examine you Chief, Lieutenant will you please leave the room."
Chief threw a worried look at Garrison and slightly shook his head. Garrison got the message, "I'll stay, Chief doesn't like hospitals, they make him nervous, he'll feel better if someone he knows is by his side." He got a look of thanks.
Gustaw shrugged and stepped forward stethoscope at the ready. Chief flinched violently as the doctor took hold of his shoulders to raise him up, the movement making him cry out as a sharp pain shot through him. The doctor jerked back quickly his startled eyes looked at the Lieutenant.
Garrison stood up and stepped over to Chief's side, he made sure he could see what he was doing. "Everything's ok, I'll help you if that's alright," he said quietly. He sat at the top of the bed, slid his right arm under Chief's shoulders and put his left hand on his scout's left arm. "Let's get you sitting up so the doc can take a good look at you." He helped Chief raise himself off the pillows and supported him as he swayed unsteadily. "You're doing fine." He nodded to the doctor, "Ok."
Gustaw listened to his patient's chest. "Deep breath in," translated Borys. The doctor moved round and started on Chief's back. Garrison felt him tense, he slightly tightened his hold on Chief's arm for a second. "It's ok, nearly done."
Chief looked down at his right arm and frowned as he saw bare skin. "Where's my blade?" he whispered.
Garrison took away his left hand and pointed to his chair. "It's safe over there in my jacket. You weren't thinking of stabbing Uncle Gustaw were you?"
Chief glanced up to see amusement mixed in with the worry in Garrison's eyes, he gave a small shake of his head. "Uh uh, just wanted to know where it was. If I wanted to kill someone you're a lot closer."
Garrison chuckled softly as he returned his hand to hold Chief's arm. "Glad to know you're starting to feel better."
Gustaw started to take off the bandage wrapped round Chief's chest. He carefully peeled away the gauze and inspected the wound. Garrison winced as he looked at the large purple bruise that surrounded the long, neatly stitched incision. The Doctor spoke to his nephew as he put fresh dressings on the wound. "My Uncle says he is very pleased, there is no infection and it should heal well."
Garrison smiled. "Give your Uncle my thanks for all he's done. How long does he think before Chief can travel?"
"At least another nine or ten days."
Chief struggled to get out of bed. "No, we gotta get back now."
Garrison firmly laid him back down on the bed and gave him a stern look. "No Chief, I'm not prepared to take any risks with your health even if you are. We're staying until the Doc says it's safe for you to travel. I'm sure the war will still be there when we get back."
The Doctor fished in his pocket and took something out, he held it in his palm, it was a rifle bullet. Borys looked at Chief. "My Uncle says do you want this as a souvenir of your mission?"
Garrison reached out and took it, he inspected it closely and grinned. "I should've known you weren't gonna die Chief."
Chief looked at him quizzically. "Why's that?"
Garrison dropped it into Chief's hand. "It hasn't got your name on it!" Chief tried to laugh, it turned into a shuddering cough. Garrison's hand returned to his arm. "I'm sorry, no more attempts at humour until you're better."
Chief weighed the bullet in his hand. "Just might start a collection," he gave Garrison an amused look. "Do ya think I'll get a tank shell?"
Garrison shook his head, his mouth twisted up into a crooked smile. "Only if it misses you Chief."