The Tracy Family and Thunderbirds are the creation of Gerry and Sylvia Anderson
Chapter 73
Jeff Tracy didn't like the way this conversation was starting. "Yes, I'm sitting down and Virgil is here with me….now just tell me Steve," Jeff asked quietly on noticing his friend's solemn and serious face.
"Jeff…I've just got word that Scott and Lieutenant Numann have both been picked up….they're been flown back to Da Nang at this very minute," General Ryder began carefully.
Jeff let out a deep sigh of relief and closed his eyes in a silent pray of thanks. Virgil, who had been standing at his side, gripped his father's shoulder in a gesture of comfort and support as well as feeling his own relief. However, on opening his eyes, Jeff observed his friend taking a deep breath and looking to his desk before engaging again in eye contact. He felt that ominous cold chill grip his heart once again, knowing something wasn't quite right.
"There's something else….isn't there, Steve. What aren't you telling us?" Jeff asked firmly and trying to remain stoic in the face of what he might hear.
Steve Ryder shook his head, knowing there was no easy way of saying it. "Jeff….just before Scott and his partner were pulled into the Huey there was a fire-fight……'Charlie' had broken into the clearing and began firing….," he started carefully. Jeff drew in a breath and felt Virgil tighten his grip on his shoulder. "Jeff….Scott was hit…..he took a bullet to his right shoulder and he went down…..they don't know how he did it but the report from the Huey crew was he got up and made for that Huey and they were both pulled on board….and they got outta there just in time," he added, telling Jeff just what he knew.
"But Scott is alive….isn't he? Steve….please tell me that Scott is still alive," Jeff responded, his heart aching with that of a father's plea. Virgil stiffened at hearing the news, praying that his brother had made it.
"Scott is alive….but only just," Steve replied straight away to which Jeff breathed out another sigh of relief. "Jeff…..I won't lie to you….Scott is in pretty bad shape by all accounts……the bullet he took hasn't exited….it's still in there….and he's pretty much exhausted…..he hasn't got anything left to fight with….that last burst of energy took just about everything he had," he continued honestly, needing his friend to understand the situation and, perhaps, prepare himself.
Jeff winced and closed his eyes, trying to draw on every reserve of strength he had. "Scott is strong….he'll fight this….I know he will…that boy doesn't know how to give up," Jeff stated proudly and trying desperately to believe it would be true. "There is still something else, though…isn't there, Steve? Just tell us everything," he insisted on seeing his friend wince.
"The medic who's treating him…..well…the medic discovered Scott has cracked ribs on his left side, Jeff. Chances are he did that on ejection…..and that means….well dammit Jeff….that means Scott has been carrying his buddy for two nights and trying to survive with cracked ribs and…..," Steve told him reluctantly, really wishing he could have spared his friend the news.
Jeff Tracy knew only too well what it meant and so did his brother, who sucked in a breath at hearing the continued list of injuries. "And that means he's been in a hell of amount of pain, even with his pain relief. Dear gawd…..how did he manage to even get to that LZ…..never mind get up when he was shot," Jeff anguished as he vocalised his thoughts, the same thoughts that had been going through Virgil's mind. It was only now beginning to sink in to Jeff just what his friend meant about his eldest son's serious condition and how, indeed, after all that Scott may well have nothing left to fight with, no reserves of strength to call on. It was a thought Jeff Tracy could barely contemplate.
"Jeff…my friend…I really wish I could have given you better news," General Ryder sympathised.
"I appreciate you getting back to me, Steve….and I appreciate your honesty," Jeff replied gratefully to which his friend nodded. He had known, of course, there would be risks in such a rescue operation for, after all, they were behind enemy lines. "Now…I have to get out there, Steve…..I have to be with my son," he added decisively, now that the initial shock had worn off and he was starting to think clearly.
Major General Ryder winced. Now just why did he know his friend was going to say that, because he knew Jefferson Tracy of old and knew he was a man of steely determination and was not going to be put off easily. "Jeff….I'm afraid that's just not possible…..," he had started to say.
"Dammit Steve….this is my son….my eldest son….I need to be with him," Jeff interrupted.
"I appreciate that Jeff….but just right at this minute Da Nang is socked in by bad weather…..there's nothing flying in or out….well…apart from the rescue helo….and even at that…he's gonna have a hard time getting in there. Jeff…they couldn't even launch their own helo's…..this is a Navy rescue….. brought in on special request. So you see….you can't get in….even if you wanted," Steve Ryder explained.
The frustration that Jeff felt was obvious but, of course, there's no arguing with the forces of nature. "Then as soon as the bad weather clears I want you to clear it for me, Steve. Get me out there," Jeff insisted.
Steve drew a calming deep breath, knowing his friend spoke from a father's heart but sometimes a father's concern paled into nothing on the world scale of politics and diplomacy. "Jeff….even I can't get you in there…..this is an operational military base and….," he had started, only to once more be interrupted.
"Dammit Steve…..don't all my years and service in the Air Force and Space Agency count for anything! And what about all the work we do in development for the Air Force at Tracy Aerospace!" Jeff stated frustratingly.
"I know this is hard for you old buddy….but you are a civilian now…..and yes, of course, we appreciate all you do in that field….but….and I hate to admit this….but this is a game of politics as well. Jeff…the fact is…you are just too high profile…..and if you go in there….well…the National Assembly is kinda edgy as it is….and there are people who just wouldn't understand why you would be there….they might just think you were there to help set up a new weapons system," Steve replied, trying to explain the finer points of the political arena, though he knew that was far from Jeff's mind right now but, harsh as it may seem, the world did not revolve around Jefferson Tracy.
"But that's ridiculous, Steve….it would be obvious why I was there when it was known that my son is injured. I'll go to the President himself if I have to….you know that," Jeff stated, desperately thinking of some way round this obstacle.
General Ryder winced and shook his head. "Jeff….I'm sorry….it would do you no good. The President wants to keep this tentative foothold in Nam and for that he needs to keep the majority of the National Assembly sweet…..and like I said….you are just too high profile….there are those there who would use any excuse to create trouble….I'm sorry, Jeff. But Scott will be in the best place possible…..we spare no expense to give our boys over there the very best of medical treatment and care. The military hospital at Da Nang is the best there is….and you will be kept informed….you can be sure of that," Steve added, giving Jeff every assurance he could.
Not for the first time did Jeff Tracy feel totally helpless and powerless as things were taken out of his hands, though, for once, all his money, power and position could not get him the thing he wanted now, which was nothing to do with all those things but just to be with his son when he needed him most. Reluctantly Jeff conceded, as he realised that his wealth and status, in this case, were actually a hindrance and a burden to him.
"All right, Steve….but as soon as Scott is stable enough I want him moved back here….to the mainland," Jeff insisted, wanting to know his son would be close by.
Steve winced again at his friend's request; he really wasn't making this easy on himself. "Jeff….you're not thinking straight…..for a start….Scott is an officer in the United States Air Force…..you just can't insist he be moved to a civilian hospital…..we take care of our own….you know that Jeff…..and besides…..when Scott regains consciousness……he's going to need help….psychological help. Jeff…we just don't know what those boys went through out there….he is going to need the kind of help only we can give him. We are geared for this, Jeff…..at Da Nang they have dealt with pilots who have had to survive in jungle conditions……a civilian hospital just wouldn't be able to give him the help he needs," Steve responded as gently as he could, while trying to make his friend see the sense of it and that, like it or not, the Air Force had its own way of doing things, rules had to be adhered to.
In his head Jeff knew he was right, it's just his heart told him he had to try everything possible to be with his son or to have him as close as he could. He nodded his reluctant acceptance of the situation.
"General Ryder's right, Dad….Scott is probably going to need more expert help that only the military hospital can give him….they'll take good care of him…..and I know he will pull through this….and then we will get him home for a while," Virgil encouraged his father, giving his shoulder a squeeze of assurance. "We would get him home on leave for a while….wouldn't we General Ryder?" he added, asking more for his father's sake.
"Yes, of course, Virgil…..Scott would be given as much leave as he needs to be with his family," General Ryder assured them eagerly, as though it were a foregone conclusion that Scott was going to pull through but then they had to remain positive and hopeful. He was glad too, that young Virgil was there to support his father and was sensible enough to see things his way. "Now you will be kept informed, Jeff and I'm sorry…..I just wish it could have been better news," he finished off to which Jeff nodded and thanked him for all his help.
Jeff sank back in his chair, heaved a sigh and patted Virgil's hand on his shoulder. "Now…just how do we tell your brothers this latest news, son," he mused aloud. It had been hard enough telling them that their eldest brother had been forced to eject somewhere over the jungle but he had waited until the later call when he could tell them Scott had, at least, landed safely, or so they thought at the time.
He was glad that he had Virgil at home with him for support, Virgil having graduated from the Denver College of Advanced Technology with glowing reports. Virgil had then agreed to stay at home to help him with a project he had long hoped he could bring to fruition and for which Virgil was now ably qualified, that of an innovative and exciting concept involving the building of some highly technically advanced rescue craft. It was Jeff's hope eventually that all of his sons would share in this dream but he had respected their right to follow their own individual careers first.
John felt totally helpless, being so far away, seeing as he was not long in astronaut training with NASA, having followed in his father's footsteps. Gordon, too, was on active duty in the Pacific Sector with the World Aquanaut Security Patrol, or WASP for short but was promised special leave if he should be needed at home and Alan, at 19, was attending the University of Colorado with the intentions of going into astronaut training. When it came to telling Alan, though, Virgil offered to break the news, as he well suspected Alan could be playing hooky from his studies in order to persue his love of fast cars on the racing circuit. He felt his father had more than enough to worry about right at this moment than to be told his youngest son had not attended his quota of classes.
They had all, of course, been stunned by the latest news, not wanting to believe their eldest brother, who they all looked up too and admired and who was always there when they needed him, that he could now be so gravely injured after having been so brave and heroic. Their father had promised them he would let them know when Scott was out of danger and would ensure he would get them home when their brother would be brought home on sick leave. Now all they could do was wait.
"Jack….you really think you're gonna get us in there?" Mac shouted out through his headset over the noise of the rotors and the storm.
The Huey bucked and shuddered to the winds demands as they followed the coastline and neared Da Nang. "I've gotta Mac….those guys don't have a prayer if we don't," Jack Flannigan gritted out, setting his face in steely determination. He wasn't going to let a little thing like a storm stand in his way. "Say...how they doin back there?" he called in to the cabin.
"Jack…you gotta get us in fast. Lieutenant Numann….he's OK…I've got him stable…..but I'm worried about Lieutenant Tracy….he's not doin so good. He's lost a lot of blood, Jack….he has cracked ribs and his pulse is weak...hell Jack…I don't think the guy has much left to fight with….you've just gotta get us down," the medic replied, not being able to do much more than he already had.
Jack nodded, chewed on his gum that bit harder and vowed he would get them there. Chief Cooper had looked back with concern when his young crewman had shouted for the medic and much as he had wanted to help the young man whose bravery he had witnessed he could not leave his post. Young Bud watched anxiously as the medic worked quickly, ready to do whatever was asked of him. Between the two of them they had taken off Scott's Survival Vest and Bud was cutting open the back of his flight suit and t-shirt, stripping him to the waist while the medic got what he needed from his kit. The medic then clamped the large self-sealing dressing over the entry wound, put an oxygen mask over his face that was attached to a portable unit and inserted an IV saline drip for fluids. He put a blanket over the young Lieutenant to keep him warm, pulling it up gently round his shoulders and apart from periodically checking his pulse there was not much more he could do.
"OK guys…Da Nang's in sight….this is gonna be rough so you'd better hang on," Jack warned, fighting the controls to keep her as smooth as possible.
Lieutenant Numann had been placed in the safety of the helo's cot and was well strapped in, the cot itself being anchored to the floor before it was known of Lieutenant Tracy's injury. Scott, on the other hand, lay where he fell, the medic not wanting to move him any more than necessary since they didn't know where the bullet had lodged and if it was close to the spine then there was risk of paralysis. The medic checked the restraints on the cot one more time then told Bud and Chief Cooper, since he was no longer needed on machine gun duty, that they needed to try to keep Lieutenant Tracy from moving about as they attempted to land.
"Da Nang…..Da Nang…..this is Navy Rescue helo Bravo Niner….I repeat…Navy Rescue helo Bravo Niner….call sign, the Cowboy. We are inbound for Da Nang….ETA 4 minutes…..I repeat….ETA 4 minutes…..hope you guys are ready for us….I need you to call me out the wind strengths on approach…do you copy?" Jack called out with the easy, relaxed manner of the true professional that he was.
"Navy Rescue Bravo Niner….that is a copy….readin you loud and clear….but we got wind strength here says you can't make it…advise you make for USS Liberty….I repeat…advise you make for USS Liberty…do you copy?" Da Nang control replied.
Lt Jack Flannigan was not amused and accordingly all protocol went right out the window. "Gawd dammit Da Nang….Liberty's too far. Now I got two guys here….one of em bleedin out all over the back of my Huey that says we gotta make it…..so why don't you just climb down off your puny little whining ass long enough to stop wettin yourself and just read me out those gawd damn wind strengths…cus we're comin in hot and tight to the deck….or so help me when I get down there I'm gonna come lookin for you and shove that fancy little headset a yours right where the sun don't shine….you got me….is that a copy…Da Nang!" Jack responded with a passion and making himself very clear indeed, to which a rather nervous young radio operator replied with a 'Yes sir'.
"Geez Jack….the kid's only doin his job….maybe we oughtta make for the Liberty," Mac reminded him, though it didn't surprise him at all about his friend's strength of feeling.
Jack shot him a look. "Dammit Mac….the kid's playin it by the book….playin safe…..well….I don't play by the book….and I sure as hell don't have time to play it safe. Liberty's too far and you know it…hell Mac….you see the state of those guys back there….well I…DID NOT…go all the way out there to have Scott Tracy bleed out all over the back of my Huey….an I tell ya Mac….if he doesn't make it cus I was too damn gutless to make a landin at Da Nang….I swear….I'll never fly another gawd damn thing so help me as long as I live," he stated with even more of a passion. "Now…you're either for me or against me on this, Mac…..and if you're for me then just grab that stick and help me take her in."
Mac shook his head with a laugh of amazed wonder at his commander. Jack Flannigan sure knew how to give a rip-roaring, rousing speech that brought a lump to your throat and hit you right in the gut, inspiring confidence. He was the epitome of that truly American ideal, that of the 'guts and glory', all American hero. "Hell Jack….who wants to live forever anyway," he grinned at his friend as he grabbed his joystick. "Let's take her in, buddy."
Jack Flannigan gave his co-pilot a hearty slap on the back along with a huge grin, he knew Mac wouldn't let him down; he just needed a little inspirational pep talk, that's all. "OK…let's do it," Jack responded and both men nodded to each other and prepared for the approach.
The Huey shuddered and bucked violently as Jack brought her down ever closer to the tarmac area just in front of the Base Hospital, all the time the two pilots wrestling with the controls to keep her on course. It takes an incredible amount of skill to land a helo in such conditions, requiring precise co-ordination between control stick and rudder pedals, which are operated by the pilots two feet. At the first attempt to land the Huey bounced down onto its suspension and rose up again. Jack took her up a safe enough distance to try again while the crew in the back braced themselves against Lt Tracy to stop him moving about.
Jack's face was set hard, like granite stone, in concentration, chewing vigorously on his gum and determined to do it this time. The Huey descended, fighting them every step of the way. "Come on baby….just do it for old Jack," he gritted out.
This time the Huey hit the deck hard as she bounced down on her suspension and immediately Jack cut the power to her rotors. They had made it, they were down. Before the rotors had stopped turning Jack and Mac were unbuckling their harnesses and climbing into the back where Jack got his first real look at the man he had risked his life to save, the wet, bedraggled and pitiful form of Lieutenant Scott Tracy.
Within seconds a team of two doctors, four nurses and two porters had braved the weather and appeared at the open doorway of the Huey complete with two gurneys. The two doctors climbed in as Bud and the medic unfastened the cot and after a quick assessment the cot, with Lieutenant Numann was passed out and placed on one of the gurneys. A doctor, nurse along with a porter rushed him away. The other doctor made a quick assessment of Scott and called for the other gurney to be collapsed and brought in, though as he and the porter went to lift the young Lieutenant, Jack Flannigan stepped in and insisted they would do it.
Jack and young Bud hunkered down on one side while on the other was the medic and Chief Cooper and as tenderly and carefully as they could, on Jack's say so, they lifted Scott's limp body onto the gurney, placing him face down. "Come on old buddy….you've done enough…..now you've just gotta hang in there and fight for yourself," Jack said quietly as he lifted him. Scott was quickly strapped down, the portable oxygen unit set on top and with a nurse now holding aloft the IV bag the gurney was carefully taken out of the Huey, set up again and rushed into the hospital.
The fearless little band of heroes looked at each other, knowing their part was now done and all silently thinking the same thing, they hoped Scott would make it, then Jack broke into a huge grin, his attention having quickly become diverted. Suddenly and mysteriously his face grimaced as though in pain. The two youngest nurses who had intentionally still remained behind took one look at his bandaged, muscular thigh and rushed to the aid of the gallant young pilot, where Jack Flannigan lost no time in putting his arms around each of their shoulders for support, while they in turn put their hands round his waist and on his chest.
"Oh Lieutenant….you're wounded…..here…lean on us for support. You are sooo brave…Lieutenant…but don't worry…we are going to take very good care of you….aren't we," one of the young nurses cooed with eager assurance to which her other young colleague more than readily agreed.
"Yeah thanks girls...come to think of it….I am beginning to feel a little bit faint," Jack responded, unable to keep the grin from his face as he lapped up the attention..
Chief Cooper and Mac shook their heads with an exasperated laugh at seeing the two young nurses fawning with girlish delight over their fearless commander. They would swear that if they were lying dying and Jack Flannigan had a mere scratch that the nurses would treat Jack first, such was his overpowering charisma and natural charm with the ladies, he just had that way about him.
"Aw geez Jack…we didn't realise you were so bad….say….we'd better get you back to the Liberty and let ole Doc patch you up," Mac said with mock concern and a mischievous grin to Chief Cooper who agreed wholeheartedly.
"Hey guys….you wouldn't deprive your brave, courageous and totally selfless pilot and commander of the company of these two charming little ladies….now would ya!" Jack grinned as he looked at each of them in turn to which they giggled embarrassingly. They watched the two nurses help him out of the Huey and hobble the short distance to the casualty entrance, knowing that once more, as Jack got the girls, they were left to tag along.
"How the hell does he do it….I swear….that guy has the luck o the Irish in him," Chief Cooper mused as they followed them in, causing the rest of the crew to break into spontaneous laughter. "Come on kid….looks like old Jack's gonna be busy for some time….we got ourselves some r & r," he added, wrapping his arm round young Bud's neck, much to the youngsters bemusement. He had a lot to learn still about his Aircraft Commander but the more he was learning the more he liked.
Once they were inside and having shaken themselves down young Bud realised something. "Hey Chief...whatda am I supposed to do with these?" he asked, showing Hank Cooper the NVS visor he had been given and the assault rifle he was carrying.
"What did the Lieutenant tell ya to do with them, kid?" the Chief replied.
"He…eh….told me to give them to Colonel Adams, Chief," Bud Gillis responded.
"Well then, kid….I guess you'd better do just that….the Lieutenant trusted you with that job," Chief Cooper returned with a raise of his eyebrows and a wry grin.
"Yeah he did……..yeah….he did….didn't he!" young Bud repeated proudly as it sank in, that he had been given a most important task by Lieutenant Scott Tracy and when he had got suitably refreshed he did just that.
He could hear the 'whomp, whomp, whomp' of the rotors echo in his head, see the blades turning through hazy eyes, he could feel the cool breeze of their downdraft playing on his body. He had to get up, 'Charlie' would be all over them soon; he was down, he knew he had fallen but his body refused to co-operate. He felt incredibly heavy and his body was wracked with pain as he tried to force himself up.
Scott Tracy's eyes flickered open, dazedly trying to focus on his surroundings and as he watched with almost hypnotic fascination he realised he wasn't looking at the rotor blades of the Huey after all. He wasn't even outside, lying as he thought in the wet grass, but rather he was watching the blades of a ceiling fan whir softly. Looking down at himself he saw that he was propped up in a comfortable bed and bare-chested, the reason he was able to feel the cooling breeze on his body. As his eyes came more into focus he could see he was in a small, white and clinically clean room, a window on one wall covered by closed vertical blinds, keeping the room in a soft natural light and a crisp, cool white cotton sheet was pulled up to his waist.
He frowned when he looked down to his left side, wondering why something dark was covering his ribs but then he realised it wasn't any kind of cloth rather it was a large black/purple bruise and then he remembered, he had cracked his ribs on the ejection seat, it's just he had never actually looked at the damage. He felt, too, his right arm incredibly heavy and that he was propped forward a little on his right side. He was also aware of a large dressing that went from his lower right shoulder blade to the top. A hazy memory swam in his mind, something hard and hot had slammed into his shoulder, sending him buckling to his knees; he had been shot.
He shifted uncomfortably, sending a wave of pain coursing through his body that made him groan. He lay back on the pillows, that small effort even taking it out of him; his breathing was short and shallow because taking deeper breaths was too painful and he was exhausted beyond belief. Scott closed his eyes for a moment, trying desperately to think where he might be; he was confused, disorientated.
What if 'Charlie' had gotten to him and, if they had him then they must have Jez but it wasn't like 'Charlie' to treat their captives so well. This could be one of their mind games though, let him think he was being treated well, lull him into a false sense of security then, then they would take it all away from him, use his injury against him, well he wasn't going to fall for that. He had to get away, had to escape, find Jez and get them both away from here. He tried to force himself up but the pain was too great and his body just wouldn't do what he wanted it to anymore.
Through his haze he thought he could hear voices, female voices, familiar accents but no, these were more mind games, he wouldn't fall for that either. "Gotta…get away….find Jez…..get away," Scott groaned.
"Lieutenant! Lieutenant Tracy!" the female voice called softly.
"No…no….won't listen….gotta get away….gotta….," he continued.
"I think we'd better get Captain Conley," the nurse suggested to her colleague at seeing his obvious distress.
His eyes felt heavy as he hovered somewhere in that twilight world but he fought to stay awake.
"Lieutenant! Lieutenant Tracy….we're glad to have you awake at last," another soft female voice called.
Scott startled at the sudden voice beside him and the cool hand that rested now on his forehead, his eyes were wide with confusion as he searched her face.
"I'm sorry Lieutenant….I didn't mean to startle you," the gentle voice assured him.
He blinked his eyes until they came into focus and observed a woman with short dark hair and a kindly face who he figured was in her thirties, the silver bars on the collar of her short-sleeved, white dress uniform and on the shoulder epaulets telling him she was a Captain, a Captain in the United States Air Force.
Captain Sarah Conley could see he was dazed and disoriented; it wasn't uncommon for young men who had been brought back from having to survive in hostile conditions to think that maybe they were in enemy hands for she knew they had been taught to expect the unexpected. She smiled reassuringly.
"It's all right Lieutenant….you're perfectly safe….you're in the military hospital at Da Nang….they brought you back Lt Tracy…..I'm Captain Conley," she told him, giving him every reassurance.
Scott stared at her long and hard, looking around his surroundings again, before finally allowing himself to believe he was safe. Relief swept through him but he would not let his emotion show. His first thought then was for his friend. "Jez! He's all right!" Scott asked, his voice no more than a hoarse rasp.
"Lieutenant Numann is doing very well….thanks to you," Captain Conley assured him with a gentle smile. "In fact….the surgeon was very impressed with your field dressing and splinting. He will need some more surgery on his leg, though and he may walk with a limp but thanks to you he won't lose it….and you did very well controlling his fever. We'll be shipping him home Stateside tomorrow," she added as she went about checking his vitals.
"Tomorrow! But…but we only…just got here," Scott replied, his face that of questioning confusion.
Sarah Conley smiled gently, not surprised in the least by his confused state. "Lieutenant….you were brought in over three days ago….we've been waiting for you to wake up. Lt Numann has responded very well and quickly to treatment….it's you we've been worried about," she told him, carefully breaking the news to him. "You do know you've been shot?" she asked with equal care, not knowing what he would remember.
Scott nodded, remembering all too well for it hurt like hell.
She winced a smile. "Well…the surgeon managed to remove the bullet….and it seems you got everyone pretty stirred up about it. Apparently it's one of the new bullets 'Charlie' has been using….our boys haven't been able to get their hands on any….until now," Captain Conley explained. Scott watched her impassively. "They've called it a Whizzer….and normally….it exits the body after it's done its damage….it whizzes around tearing up the muscle before it exits…..but in your case Lt Tracy…once it entered and did its damage it lodged under your collar bone….your collar bone's broken too I'm afraid," Sarah Conley winced as she continued to explain what had happened to him. "The surgeon has done a good job, though, repairing the damage and you should make a full recovery…..you will be in some pain for a while but we'll give you everything we can to make you comfortable….and of course you have three cracked ribs on your left side….so you're going to be with us for a while longer, Lieutenant. Quite frankly…the surgeon and everyone else was amazed at how you managed to get up from that with Lt Numann and get to that Huey," she added, finishing off with obvious admiration.
Scott said nothing, just closed his eyes briefly as he took in the news. So that's why it hurt so much, why his back right up to his collar bone felt like it was on fire, he thought to himself, why he could barely move his right arm.
"Lt Numann is in the fractures ward but I'm sure we could get him to come see you before he leaves," she continued, hoping that it might cheer him up to be able to see his friend to which Scott nodded. "He's been asking about you….telling everyone what a hero you are…and how he's going to name his first kid after you….even if it's a girl," Sarah added, thinking that might bring a smile to his face. She wasn't quite prepared for his reaction.
Scott rounded on her, fixing her with a cold, hard stare from his piercing blue eyes. "What has he been saying?" he asked coldly.
"He…didn't mention any details….only what a hero you are….that you would be the one anyone would want with them in a tight spot," Captain Conley answered warily. She couldn't help now but wonder what had happened to this handsome young man out in that jungle.
"Just….leave me alone," he responded wearily. He turned away from her to stare at the blank wall.
She continued to talk to him, oblivious of his request as she checked his dressing. "You're a popular young man, Lieutenant….you've had quite a few visitors already."
"Dad! Virg! They were here!" Scott asked, momentarily forgetting where he was. His thoughts, though, were tormented confusion, part of him wanting his family and another part of him not wanting to face them.
Sarah winced at realising what he must have thought. "No…I'm sorry Lieutenant…not your family….but they have been asking about you and we've kept them informed," she was quick to assure him. "I meant all your buddies from your squadron….they've all been in to see you….and Major Hollis has been here every day….and even the crew from the Navy helo that brought you in….they wanted to see you before they left…..from what I understand they took a big risk trying to bring you in here….and, of course, Colonel Adams has been in to see you too."
Jack Flannigan and his crew had, indeed, been in to see the brave young Lieutenant before they had to finally head back to the Liberty, after Jack had been suitably treated and tended too by practically every young nurse in the casualty department. They were glad to see him a lot more comfortable than when they had last seen him and, of course, now that he was cleaned up and free of his camouflaged face paint they could, at last, tell what he looked like. "He's gonna be OK, isn't he?" Jack asked concerned of the nurse that was tending to the young Lieutenant.
"Physically….Lt Tracy should make a full recovery….he just needs plenty of rest," the nurse smiled and feeling very moved that the rescue crew should take the time to come and see him. Chief Cooper, Mac and Jack gave each other a knowing look, the word 'physically' not having escaped their notice. They were experienced enough to know it was the deeper psychological traumas that took longer to heal, if ever, young Bud being more naïve in such matters.
"Well….so long, buddy….it's been a pleasure and an honor to pull your ass outta the fire….and maybe some day……!" Jack nodded in admiration and gripping Scott's left hand in a farewell, chewing his usual stick of gum, of course. "Well guys….guess we'd better be headin back to the 'Ranch'…bet old Chief Sanchez is just dyin to welcome us with open arms," Jack quipped, to which Chief Cooper and Mac shook their heads in exasperation at his mischievous grin. The rest of the crew, too, gave Scott their good wishes and then they were gone.
And just what did happen when our little band of heroes arrived back on board the USS Liberty. Well, rumour has it that Jack Flannigan was summoned to the Ward Room, along with a gloating Master Chief Sanchez, where Commander Stockton was waiting and was given an official dressing down for disobeying a direct order, which pleased Sanchez no end. The Chief was then dismissed and rumour has it that when the door was closed Commander Stockton clapped Jack Flannigan heartily on the back and told him what a damn fine job he did and how proud he was that Jack was a member of his crew. Rumour also had it that the Commander went so far as to recommend Jack for the Navy Cross, the next highest honor to the Navy Medal of Honor and, of course, he earned himself a Purple Heart for his wound, which he felt a little embarrassed about, compared with Lieutenant Scott Tracy. Which just all went to prove that, perhaps, Lt Jack Flannigan really did have the luck o the Irish in him. After that he became something of a celebrity, held in even higher regard and loved by his crew and comrades alike, except for one particular Master Chief, though, who found it all rather too much to stomach!
At the mention of Colonel Adams, Scott once again turned his face from the Captain and she somehow got the impression that the Base Commander was not exactly his favourite person right now. He tried to swallow, feeling incredibly dry and thirsty and he watched as Sarah Conley poured the cool water into a spouted cup; he knew it would be cool and refreshing for he could hear the ice cubes clink against the glass of the jug as she poured it. Scott sucked greedily on the spout when she placed it in his mouth, as though he had been deprived of water for a long time, so greedily in fact that he started to choke.
Sarah Conley fought back the emotion that rose in her, not able to imagine being that thirsty or what it must have been like to be out in that heat. "Take it easy, Lieutenant….you can have as much water as you like, whenever you like," she reassured him.
His choking and coughing wracked his body with pain and he groaned in agony.
"I'll get you something more for the pain, Lieutenant," Captain Conley sympathised.
"No. Just leave me alone……I need my pain…Captain…sir," Scott spat out coldly and with more than a little sarcasm, knowing that, officially, she outranked him.
Her heart went out to this young man who was obviously suffering some deeper mental pain but she had no intention of heeding his request and leaving him to suffer. She reappeared, upended a small bottle and withdrew the required amount of medication. Scott watched as she pushed the needle into the connection of the IV drip in his right arm and moments later felt a measure of relief.
"Try and get some rest, Lieutenant," she suggested gently, leaving the room when his eyes finally closed. Closing his eyes, though, only brought him restless torment, haunted by images of young, startled eyes, a neck snapping in his hands and a falling sword.
As she sat at her desk in the small office beside the Nursing Station Captain Conley stared at the vid-phone screen, trying to decide the best thing to do. She had been given strict orders however and so reluctantly she tapped in a code and asked to be put through.
"Colonel Adams…..he's awake."
