AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Meg looked at the soldier, barely more than a boy. His face was covered by Pat’s nurse’s cap. ‘Oh no.’ Her stomach, so empty it rumbled with need, clenched. She should be used to losing a patient. It happened from time to time no matter how much nursing she gave, but each loss touched her to her core.
Beside her, the corporal got to his feet awkwardly and followed her as she joined Pat.
‘When did he die?’
‘Not long ago. There was nothing more we could do for him out here, Meg.’
Flanagan bowed his head and his lips moved in a prayer for the private’s soul.
Meg bowed her head and offered her prayers too. When she lifted her head, Corporal Flanagan was watching her. ‘No tears, macushla. You did all you could for him.’
She nodded slowly. ‘I know, but John Donne was right. Each man’s death diminishes us because none of us is an island.’ She inhaled a long, steadying breath and turned to Pat. ‘What do you want me to do first, Sister?’
Flanagan answered before Pat had a chance to. ‘Breakfast first, don’t you reckon, Sister?’ The corporal was a brave man, taking the head nurse’s lead.
‘Are you going to call up your magic leprechaun to cook something for us, Corporal?’ Pat’s tone was dry at the best of times, but she looked exhausted too.
‘It’s not a touch of magic you need, Sister. There is food in the bush, but we’ll have to gather it.’
‘Then go and organise any semi-able-bodied men and do so.’ Pat suppressed a yawn.
With a touch of embarrassment, Meg realised Pat must have stayed awake through the night, keeping watch over the wounded men. ‘I’m sorry, Sister. I should have stayed awake to assist you.’
‘Nonsense, Meg. I know how long your last shift was. You would have been lucky to catch an hour’s sleep between it and the start of the bombing. Corporal Ransom, our driver assisted me. Now, let’s see if there’s anything in this truck fit to eat.’
Corporal Flanagan had rounded up a couple of men and they followed him into the bush. Sister headed for the cabin and Meg climbed onto the bed of the truck. A barrel tied onto the slats behind the window of the cabin was the only likely place. The lid was a tight fit and she looked for something to lever it up.
‘Need some help, Sister?’ The truck driver squinted up through the side slats. ‘I’ve got a decent knife if you’re looking to open that.’
‘Thanks. Do you know what’s inside?’
‘No idea. It was already lashed on board when we commandeered the truck. We didn’t bother to ask or stop to get rid of it.’
Meg stood aside while the driver, Corporal Ransom, with the polished tone of a city fella, climbed up beside her. He took a lethal-looking hunting knife from a scabbard on his hip, inserted the tip between the lid and the barrel and hit the pommel. Several more hits like that and one side of the lid rose.
Between them, they tugged the lid free. Meg peered inside. Her stomach felt as though it was knocking against her backbone, but she wasn’t sure what she hoped for most.
An earthy smell rose. The soldier thrust his hand inside and pulled out a tuberous plant still covered in dirt. He turned it this way and that and held it out to her. ‘Any idea what this is, Sister?’
‘Sweet potato. We’re in luck. One of the nurses who lives in the Territory was telling me her father grows these.’
Pat called from the rear of the truck. ‘Have you got something there?’
Meg held up the tuber. ‘Madeline Tucker told me her family grow these.’
Pat looked dubious. ‘We have no cooking pots.’
‘We don’t need them. If we dig a fire pit, we can toss them in, and they’ll cook in their skins.’
The driver folded his arms and looked sceptical. ‘We don’t have time to dig a pit or wait for food to cook.’
Corporal Flanagan and his pair of ambulant foragers returned carrying bush food in the shirt of a now bare-chested private. ‘It’s not much, Sister, but it will keep everyone going for now.’
‘Well done.’ Pat smiled at the foragers then turned back to their driver. ‘We need to eat, Corporal Ransom.’
The driver frowned before heading to the truck. Sounds of static reached them, and the corporal’s voice as he contacted a military post.
Meg tuned him out as she relieved the wounded men of their small bundle and began to distribute the bush food, amongst which was some sort of pinkish berry. The men looked at the slim pickings, some with resignation, others, with curiosity. One man asked, ‘What is it, Sister?’
