I looked at Char now as her hand began to slip from mine, and held it tighter. Her eyes, full of questions, met mine. And then she nodded, understanding. I was not fine.
At half past two we began loading the patients into the plane. I grinned at the familiar figure doing a thorough check of the aircraft.
“Hey, Gus,” I said, happy to know he’d be the one flying us back.
“You doing okay, kid?” he asked, moving out of the way for two soldiers carrying a large metal trunk toward the plane. “Heard you had a bit of excitement this morning.”
I shrugged, and he patted my shoulder before hurrying off to the mess hall to get a quick bite before we took off.
“It’s nice to have company!” Char yelled over the engines an hour later, looking first to me, then to Mac who was sitting up front beside Gus, then to the full bunks running to the back of the plane. “And extra hands!”
It had taken us a while to get all the patients onboard. One blew the stitches on his chest and had to be taken back inside to be tended to. Another, a young man with a head injury, ran off when the male nurse escorting him stopped to help another soldier who was struggling with his crutches. By the time everyone was finally in their bunks, I was exhausted.
I smiled wanly at Char and she patted my leg.
“We’ll be home in no time,” she said and then closed her eyes as the plane began to move.
The flight was mostly uneventful. Char and I moved through the bunks checking wounds, administering oxygen, and chatting quietly with our patients.
“You got a fella?” a soldier with a head wound asked.
We were asked that a lot on these flights.
I shook my head at the soldier and patted his arm before moving on to the next.
“Why not?” he asked. I sighed. I hated when they were persistent with this particular line of questioning, but also knew it provided a distraction.
“I like keeping my wits about me,” I said. “Having a man to worry about would just distract me.”
“Well, you wouldn’t have to worry about me,” he said. “I’m goin’ home.”
“She don’t want no brain damaged man, Davey,” the soldier below him said, thumping the bottom of the bunk.
My eyes widened and I prepared to defend one patient against the other, until Davey laughed.
“Hush, man! She don’t need to know how bad it is until I get her home.”
Now several of them were laughing and I turned to Char, who was shaking her head.
“I think maybe we’ve given them too much oxygen,” I said with a grin.
“That’s it, fellas,” Char announced. “No more breathing for you lot.”
My ears popped then and I glanced toward the front of the plane where Mac was just turning to shout at us.
“Starting our descent!” he said, and I nodded and picked up the pace, checking my half of the patients and stowing the oxygen.
I was buckling myself into my seat when I felt the rumble of the landing gear. But a moment later the plane tipped into a right turn and I glanced at Char, who frowned. We knew the route home like the back of our hands. We didn’t usually make a turn to get there. It was a straight shot.
“Where’s he takin’ us?” she asked before turning her head and shouting toward the cockpit. “Where you taking us, Gus?”
But there was no answer as we stayed in the turn, evened out, then dipped into another turn.
I felt the landing gear again.
“Gus?” I shouted.
“Hang on!” Mac yelled.
