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Captain Bradford releases his wrist. "Get my first aid kit and then go."
Davies fumbles with the pocket of the captain's tunic that contains the packet of gauze dressings, gets one out, and presses it against the bleeding wound. Captain Bradford covers it with his hand.
"Hope no one saw you do that," he says, and winks. "Go on."
Davies finally shoves himself to his feet and follows his platoon.
This attack is not as successful as previous attacks, however, and the battalion has to retreat. Davies catches more shrapnel from a shell exploding nearby, this time badly enough to send him to the first aid post back at the trenches. Dr Craig takes one look at him, deems him not serious enough to merit immediate attention, and sends him even further back behind the line to a dressing station.
The trek to the dressing station is mud and puddles from end to end – cold half-frozen mud and puddles, even. All along the route are men dragging themselves away from the front line and towards medical care, wounded soldiers interspersed with stretcher bearers. Davies sees Naylor and Powell leaning on each other, and comes up next to them to help. Naylor is bleeding from the shoulder and Powell is limping, but at least they're both still on their own feet.
( Lt Fiske was hit in the head, Powell says. )
words: 1024
total words: 36,903
note: i have a vague idea how the chain of medical care worked at the front, but also i'm totally winging some of it.
Davies fumbles with the pocket of the captain's tunic that contains the packet of gauze dressings, gets one out, and presses it against the bleeding wound. Captain Bradford covers it with his hand.
"Hope no one saw you do that," he says, and winks. "Go on."
Davies finally shoves himself to his feet and follows his platoon.
This attack is not as successful as previous attacks, however, and the battalion has to retreat. Davies catches more shrapnel from a shell exploding nearby, this time badly enough to send him to the first aid post back at the trenches. Dr Craig takes one look at him, deems him not serious enough to merit immediate attention, and sends him even further back behind the line to a dressing station.
The trek to the dressing station is mud and puddles from end to end – cold half-frozen mud and puddles, even. All along the route are men dragging themselves away from the front line and towards medical care, wounded soldiers interspersed with stretcher bearers. Davies sees Naylor and Powell leaning on each other, and comes up next to them to help. Naylor is bleeding from the shoulder and Powell is limping, but at least they're both still on their own feet.
( Lt Fiske was hit in the head, Powell says. )
words: 1024
total words: 36,903
note: i have a vague idea how the chain of medical care worked at the front, but also i'm totally winging some of it.
