- In Love And War -
Chapter Three: Wounds

Trapper jumped on the ambulance to go meet the choppers, and BJ and I went to help pull bodies off the bus. I kept an eye on him—he got very pale, not as bright-eyed or bushy-tailed anymore, but he handled himself well. Frank took charge of pre-op—it was the easiest way to keep him from operating on the most severely wounded kids—and BJ and I joined Potter in the scrub room.

"How you feeling, son?" Potter asked BJ.

"My heart's beating about a hundred miles a minute," he confessed.

"Just relax," I advised. "Breathe. Meatball surgery isn't quite as terrifying as it sounds."

"Thanks ever so much."

"You'll be fine."

Potter leaned over and said softly to me, "I want you to keep an eye on him, Pierce. Teach him all the shortcuts, make sure he doesn't fall apart."

I had BJ take care of a fairly simple chest wound for his first surgery in Korea, and he froze for a moment when they first laid the kid out on the table; but then he sprung into action, proving that he had just as much skill as anyone else around here. I pointed out a few places where he could save a little time, but I left him mostly to himself and made sure Margaret stayed with him to help if he needed it.

I'd just finished up with a kid who'd come in missing half his insides, when I heard BJ swear softly, and Margaret said, "No pulse. We're losing him, doctor."

"No, we're not!" BJ growled, pounding a fist down on the patient's chest. There were the first touches of panic in his voice.

I stepped up behind him, said calmly, "Open him up. Massage the heart."

He glanced at me over his shoulder, eyes wide and face pale, sweating. "I've never done that before."

"I'm here," I said. "Rib spreader. Go on, doctor, make the incision."

Margaret was staring at me, looked like she was about to say something; I shook my head slightly at her, saw her swallow hard and give a small nod before she grabbed the rib spreader from Kellye, waiting. BJ stood over his patient, scalpel in one hand, and I thought he'd frozen again; then, slowly but confidently, he drew the little knife in a line down the chest. I told him what to do, keeping my voice calm in order to keep him calm, and he did everything perfectly. But—as I knew, as Margaret knew, as everyone but BJ knew—the patient was too far gone. There was nothing that could be done to save him, and I finally grabbed BJ's arm and pulled him gently away, saying softly, "Enough, BJ. He's gone."

"No!" BJ said fiercely, sweat and tears mingling to dampen his mask. "I won't lose him—!"

"It's over," I said more firmly, and nodded toward the gas-passer, who pulled the mask away from the kid's face.

BJ kept going for about a half a minute more until, finally, his hands stilled and he let me pull him away from the body. "Corpsmen," I called, and they came to carry away the litter. BJ watched them go, and then tore away from me, sprinting out of the room.

"You got him, Hawkeye?" Trapper called.

"Take it easy with him, Pierce," Potter said as I started after BJ.

I found him outside, bent over a garbage can, retching. I went over to him, rested my hands gently on his shoulder and back, until he stopped heaving and was merely leaning against the can for support, his whole body shaking with quiet tears. "You knew he wouldn't make it," he accused, his voice shaking as much as his body.

"I did."

"Then why, damnit?" Such a simple question, but it held so many emotions. He sounded like a lost and scared and confused little child, and my heart went out to him.

Softly, with the wound still as raw and painful as the day I'd received it, I said, "My first patient here was a kid who'd had half his chest blown away. It was amazing he'd made it as far as he did. Our C.O. at the time, Henry Blake, gave the kid to me, told me to save him. I did everything I could for that kid, with Henry watching and telling me what to do, but there was just too much damage. And after it all, I ran out here and did the same thing you just did, and I called Henry a heartless son of a bitch and a few other names. And I'll never forget what he said to me. He said, 'It's the damn war that's heartless. We're the ones who have to have hearts.' You can't save every kid who comes through here, but you have to try, so you can look everyone in the eye and say, 'I did everything I could to save him.' That's what it's about here."

"How do you do it? How can you…how can you stand to just watch them die?"

"I can't," I said simply. "That's why I do everything I can to save each and every one of them, so the bastard doesn't win."

Still bent over the garbage can, he finally tilted his head to look up at me. "Who?"

"Death. Out there, they're fighting the war against Korea or China or Communism or whatever it is we've decided we hate today; but in here, the war we're fighting is against death."

He shook his head, gave a half-sob, half-laugh, and said, "I think I hate it here."

"You'd be inhuman if you didn't. Come on back inside. The waiting room's full, and we're out of magazines."

He straightened slowly and, after wiping fiercely at his cheeks, looked me in the eye and smiled very faintly. "You're a real bastard, you know that?"

"That's what they tell me," I said, and threw my arm around his shoulders, leading him back into the scrub room.

It was a fairly heavy load of casualties, the hour hand taking a trip and a half around the clock face before I finally called for another body and was told there weren't any more. I helped BJ finish up with his last patient, a leg amputation, and then we all trudged into the scrub room. BJ sat down heavily on the bench, dropping his head into his hands; I sat on one side of him, and Trapper sat on his other. "How're you doing?" I asked gently.

"Three," he said gruffly. I could hear the tears in his voice.

"I lost four my first day here," I said, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"Six," Trapper said grimly.

A "Three," from Potter.

Frank said nothing, stripping his scrubs off as fast as possible and hurrying from the room. I didn't blame him for not wanting to share, considering Trap and I knew the number.

"Does it ever get easier?" BJ asked softly, desperately.

I sighed. "You want the truth? Yeah, it does. That's the worst part."

Trapper stood up and started to pull off his scrubs. "Come on," he said to BJ. "We still owe you that drink."

"Mind if I join you boys?" Potter asked.

"The more the merrier."

"You're a damn fine surgeon, Hunnicutt," Potter said with fatherly pride as we walked slowly out of the room. "Sure am glad they sent you here."

"I can't say I'm glad to be in Korea," BJ said with a faint, tired smile, "but if I have to be here, this seems like as good a place as any to be."

Potter smiled, and clapped BJ on the shoulder. "Welcome to the family, BJ."

TBC