For the Love of a Marine

by Sharon Kimbra Walsh

  Katie enjoyed a long, hot shower, courtesy of the other absent women, soaking her head and body under the spray in the hope that it would wake her up, standing with her eyes closed in an attempt to banish the stiffness and tension from her body. Finally feeling a little more human, she toweled herself dry and went back into the tent.

  Once she had dressed herself in her usual combats, T-shirt and boots, she sat on the edge of her camp bed trying to decide what to do with her time off. If she was honest with herself, she wished that she was back at the CTH doing something to occupy her time. She felt on edge and restless, something that she always experienced when she knew that there was work to do and she was absent from it. She knew that it was perfectly natural to feel that way. It was always difficult to wind down from an adrenaline-fueled high that was a by-product of an incident. The mind and body could not just switch off at will. This was always a problem for those who endeavored to burn the candle at both ends, and who lived on adrenaline and faced pressures day in and day out.

  Katie eventually decided that the mess was the place to be. She needed food to renew her energy, needed to be around other people, and the noise and bustle of the mess was just right. Putting on her helmet and picking up her weapon, she left the tent, making her way out to the road and turned in the direction of the mess.

  On reaching the building, she went inside and found it relatively empty and quiet. Finding an empty table, she left her helmet on a chair and her rifle propped against a table leg and went to the food counter. Picking up a tray, she moved along the selection of food. She was hungry and she intended to do full justice to a hot meal. As she mused on her choices, a voice spoke from behind the hot food counter.

  “Hi, Katie.”

  Glancing up, Katie forced a smile onto her face, “Hello, David.” By using a formal tone, she hoped that the irritating corporal would back off and leave her alone.

  However, Corporal Hudson persisted in his attempt to engage her in conversation. “You look tired,” he said.

  Katie felt instant irritation and bit her lip, blocking a retort. The cook was always trying to insert a personal note into their conversations, treating her as though he had a right to make personal comments about her, how she looked and how she felt. “I’m tired,” Katie replied coolly. “We all had a bad day yesterday and I was up all night on duty.”

  Corporal Hudson nodded. “Must have been pretty bad for you,” he responded, a sympathetic tone in his voice.

  Attempting to choose her food and distract the cook’s obvious need to talk to her, Katie placed some hot food on her plate and moved on to the fridge to get a cold drink. She chose an orange juice and was just about to move away back to her table when Corporal Hudson spoke to her again. “Katie, I was wondering if you’d like to come to the NAAFI with me tomorrow night for a coffee?”

  Katie sighed inwardly. What a jerk! Will he never give up? She turned back to face him. “I’m sorry, David, but no. I’m very tired and I’m on duty tomorrow morning. We have lots of patients and we’re all working flat out. With what’s been going on, most of us are on standby. We could be called back to work at any time. So, thank you, but no.”

  With a small conciliatory smile, she turned away, and without looking where she was going, promptly crashed into someone standing directly behind her. Her tray wobbled in her hands and the orange drink nearly upended itself onto the floor.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she apologized with embarrassment. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.” She glanced up to see who stood in her way and her breath caught in her throat. “Joe,” she exclaimed and couldn’t prevent a smile from appearing on her face. He’s safe.

  “Hey,” Joe Anderson greeted her, a grin spreading across his face, “I was hoping I’d see you here.”

  Katie’s heart did a little dance and her stomach flipped. She saw how tired and wrung out he looked. Dark stubble lined his chin, smudges of dust and dirt stained his skin and there was a dull, weary look in his blue eyes. He carried his combat helmet in one hand and still had on his full body armor with his M4 slung over one shoulder.

  “Was that guy bothering you?” he asked, turning to stare intently at Corporal Hudson, who returned the look with a cold regard of his own.

  Katie looked back at the cook, whose eyes shifted from the staff sergeant to her. His face twisted with what looked like jealousy, and feeling a little uneasy, Katie averted her gaze. “No,” she answered, her tone light and moved away from the counter.

  Directing a final steely look at the young cook, Joe stated, “I’ll join you. Just let me get some chow. Why don’t you go find us a table?”

  Katie hastened back to the table she already had and sat down. She watched Joe as he chose his own food and drink then joined her. He hooked a chair away from the table with a boot, put down his tray then propped his weapon against the table and sat down. Katie watched as he rubbed a hand over his face, as though trying to brush away the exhaustion that was evident in the posture of his body.

  “Ahh shit!” he exclaimed and sighed.

  “You looked shattered, Joe,” Katie said softly. “Have you only just come in?”

  “Yeah,” Joe answered, “we spent most of yesterday, last night and today recceing areas around the base trying to find those Taliban bastards.”

  “Did you?” Katie asked. “Find them, I mean?”

  “Nope. They were long gone. But at least four of the fuckers incinerated themselves in the explosion. No great loss.”

  Katie winced at the hard note of anger in his voice, but she could understand why he felt that way. There was always a fierce anger on the base when something happened such as an aircraft being shot down, a patrol getting involved in a firefight or personnel killed in an explosion, but it hurt her to hear this man speak so coldly and callously. She wanted to stretch out her hand and hold Joe’s, letting him know that he wasn’t alone in his anger. Instead, she picked up her fork and began to eat.

  “How are the guys getting along in the CTH?” Joe suddenly asked, beginning to eat his own food.

  “They’re doing all right,” Katie answered. “Some are still in critical condition but the others are stable. I was on duty until 0700 hours, so the sergeant gave me a twenty-four hour.”

  “I have to go back out on patrol again tonight,” Joe volunteered casually, “at 2200 hours. We’re going to patrol farther out. See if we can’t find something to shoot at.”

  Katie glanced up abruptly from her meal. “You’re going out again?” She couldn’t prevent consternation from entering her voice, and she belatedly attempted to hide it.

  “You have any plans for tonight?” Joe asked, noting the worried look on her face and changing the subject.

  “No,” Katie replied, her tone equally casual. “I’m on standby in case we have any further casualties. I hope there aren’t. It’s physically and emotionally draining.”

  “I get that,” Joe answered. “All of you do a great job.” He paused. “Look, I hate to do this, but I have to go and attend a debriefing, get my equipment ready for tonight. Walk you back to your tent?”

  Bitterly disappointed, Katie nodded. Their meetings were always so brief, and tonight felt worse because of the heightened security on the base and the fact that he was going out on patrol and would be in danger. She felt swift panic rise up in her throat. What if something happens to him? What if he’s shot, injured in a bomb blast, and has to be medevacked to the CTH? She would know instantly, and have to watch his suffering while maintaining complete detachment from his treatment and care.

  As if he sensed her fears, Joe leaned forward and reached a hand across the table, turning it palm up. Katie stared at it. If she placed her hand in his, her destiny as well as his, was sealed. Their relationship would have taken a big stride forward. What came next would be part of their future. She glanced at his face, both frightened and exhilarated at the same time. This man did have feelings for her, and it filled her with happiness. But, they were trapped
here with no time for closeness or for being together as a normal couple. More to the point—and harder to think of—was the fact that she would be constantly worrying about him, waiting until she saw him again so that she knew that he was still alive. She wondered if it would be best for them both if this was to stop now, before either was hurt? She studied his face as though she could see inside his mind, saw the warmth and understanding in his eyes, as if he knew why she was hesitating. The look both warmed her and sent a frisson of undeniable sexual tension between them.

  Katie raised her hand, hesitated, and placed it in his. He closed his fingers around hers and squeezed. They were both fully aware that the touch had bonded them irrevocably together.

  “I’ll be fine,” he said huskily, his eyes never leaving her face. They were full of emotion. “I’m too old and ugly for anything to happen to me. But you take care of yourself. You hear me?” He squeezed her hand so hard that she winced.

  “I will,” she whispered in reply. She had a sudden irresistible urge to kiss him, but the mess was certainly not the place to do that, and also doing it in full view of everyone would have very embarrassing repercussions, including giving Camp Churchill something to gossip about for weeks.

  Instead, she managed a smile meant purely for him, studying his every feature and finally releasing his hand.

  “Come on, we’d better go,” Joe said.

  They took their trays laden with empty plates to the dirty dishes rack then went back to the table to pick up their helmets and weapons.

  Joe led the way outside and together they made their way to the rows of tented accommodation. Outside Katie’s tent, they stopped and faced each other.

  “Well…” Joe stopped. He suddenly placed the palm of his hand gently against the side of her face, stroking the soft skin of her cheek with his thumb. Without hesitation, Katie placed her own hand on top of his and, turning his palm slightly, kissed the rough, warm skin there.

  Joe smiled. “I’ll see you in the NAAFI tomorrow night,” he stated. “Will you be there?”

  Katie nodded silently, not trusting herself to speak

  Joe withdrew his hand from the side of her face. “I’ll see you then.” Striding off hurriedly in the direction of the road, he disappeared.

  “Please come back safe,” Katie whispered to his departing back, hoping he would look back and feeling disappointed when he didn’t. Experiencing a sense of loss, she went into her tent to find Wanda sitting on her bed as though waiting for her to come in.

  “You dark horse, you,” she crowed. “Who’s the guy?”

  “None of your business,” Katie retorted. “If I tell you, the whole camp will know about it by tomorrow.”

  “That’s a bit unfair,” Wanda said, twisting her face into a scowl of mock offense. “How could you think such a thing of me?”

  “Yeah right,” Katie said sarcastically, smiling at her friend. “Like that’s the truth.”

  “Okay. Well, if that’s the way you want it to be, I shall stay silent on the subject.”

  Katie laughed, “That’ll be the day. You’ll burst.”

  For the rest of the evening, Katie tidied her bed space, cleaned her boots and hand washed her dirty combat fatigues, hanging them to dry on a makeshift clothesline out back of the tent. She attempted to sit down in the lounge to watch TV, but was too restless and uneasy. Finally, she lay down on her camp bed and tried to read a magazine. However, the only thing she could focus on was Joe—wondering where he was, what he was doing. At last, impatient with herself, she closed her eyes and attempted to sleep, but the noise from the other women in the tent was too much and so she sat up.

  At 2200 hours, exasperated at the fact that she couldn’t settle, Katie decided that she would get ready for bed. She was just undoing the fastenings of her combat trousers when suddenly her pager went off. She wasted a few precious seconds frantically hunting for it and eventually found it deep in the pocket of her combats. Glancing at the small LED screen, she saw that a message was scrolling across it, repeating itself over and over again—Report to the CTH immediately.

  “Oh crap!” Katie exclaimed. Moving quickly, she grabbed her webbing, put it on, and slammed her helmet on her head. “I’ve been called in,” she explained to Wanda. “I guess I’ll see you later.”

  “Take care, girl,” Wanda responded.

  Retrieving her weapon, Katie left the tent to retrace her steps back to the CTH. She knew that she had been called back because of something potentially serious. More casualties? Katie gritted her teeth. Had someone, or even Joe, been hurt on his patrol? Common sense tried to dictate that it could be anyone. Joe’s squad wasn’t the only one out beyond the wire that night but even so, panic gripped her. Images assaulted her mind—of Joe badly injured, bleeding and hurt, of having to call on that unique detachment that medical personnel used as a cloak to protect themselves from emotional involvement with their patients. She wouldn’t be able to do it. She just wasn’t strong enough.

  As though trying to escape from her thoughts, Katie began to jog along the road, threading her way around other personnel going about their duties. She reached the CTH and entered to find Sergeant Webster waiting for her arrival at the entrance to his office. Slowing her breathing, Katie strode to meet him, a look of enquiry on her face. “Sergeant?” she queried nervously, coming to a halt in front of him.

  “I’m sending you out with a CTT,” the sergeant explained abruptly.

  Katie was shocked and taken aback. “What? Sergeant? I’m only CTM trained. I’ve never gone out in the field to treat casualties, let alone accompanied a CTT on an extraction.”

  “Katie, you are one of the most skilled CTMs we have here and the other CTTs are already deployed. There are a number of firefights going on outside the wire. Many of the patrols have made contact with hostiles and there have been some casualties. We would normally send two CTTs but we just don’t have the manpower. You’ll be accompanying leading trauma surgeon Major Webster and trauma nurses Fraser, Turner and Martin.” His voice was firmer when he continued. “Go and get on your full combat kit. An APC will be picking you up in five minutes. Get moving, Corporal.”

  Obeying the order without further argument, Katie jogged down the corridor to the locker room. Aware that she only had a few minutes before the APC arrived, she slammed open her locker and proceeded to quickly don her full combats, body armor, limb protectors and PRR. She checked her bootlaces to make sure that they were tightly laced, for there would be no time to fasten them later if they became loose, then undid the leather thong holding her dog tags, took off one tag and shoved it down under the tongue of her right boot. If she happened to be killed and her body was difficult to identify, someone would find the dog tag in her boot with her ID number on it. Finally, she replaced the thong with the remaining dog tag back about her neck, fastened the straps of her combat helmet, pulled on combat gloves and slid the white armband with its red cross up her left arm before finally shrugging into her medical bergen.

  Once she was ready, she felt sudden panic. She could vividly picture the approaching helicopter flight out into the black, cold desert, the coming firefight and having to land in the middle of it, and most frightening of all, having to deal with casualties under fire. For a moment, she rested the front of her helmet against her locker and took some deep breaths, trying to stop the faint trembling in her hands and legs. This was her job, what she was paid to do and she needed to get on with it. This was not the time or the place to succumb to a fit of nerves. She would be no good to anybody if she did not get a grip on herself. Sergeant Webster would not be sending her out if he had any doubts that she could do the job.

  Taking a final deep breath, she left the locker room and jogged down the corridor to the front doors. As she passed the theaters and trauma rooms, she noticed medical staff readying them, preparing for casualties. Katie strong-armed one of the front doors open and went outside. The CTT was already waiting and they all turned as she came out.


  “Corporal Walker.” Major Webster nodded, acknowledging her presence.

  Katie saluted. “Sir.”

  The other members of the team nodded their greetings. Everyone looked pale beneath their helmets and all were tense and restless, eager to be off, shuffling their feet, signs that individual stress was mounting. A sudden rumbling of a large engine announced the arrival of a Bulldog armored personnel carrier—APC—as it pulled up beside them. Immediately Katie and the CTT climbed into the massive vehicle, the door slammed shut, sealing them inside the musty, cloying interior, which smelled heavily of oil and they were off within seconds, heading for the airfield.

  Katie sat down inside and rested her rifle across her knees. She was so scared that the fear felt like a lump in the pit of her stomach. Glancing sideways at her companions, she took note of their tense expressions and the pallor of their skin and knew that she wasn’t the only one who was nervous.

  The APC paused at a checkpoint on the perimeter of the airfield. A soldier glanced in through the window at them all then they waved them on to trundle across to a helicopter apron where the CTF CH-47 Chinook was waiting, its double rotor blades turning slowly, a door gunner armed with an M136 minigun sitting patiently at the large open side door.

  The CTT and Katie jumped down from the APC, and without wasting any time, jogged across the dusty concrete apron to the rear of the helicopter where, in single file, they strode up the lowered ramp into the Chinook’s interior. As soon as they were aboard, the ramp hydraulically lifted, sealing them inside.

  Chapter Seven

  Katie spent a few minutes looking around the inside of the helicopter, as much to distract herself from her fear as out of curiosity. She had never been on board a CTF helicopter before and was impressed by its size and the amount of medical equipment there was hanging on the walls, fastened to the floor and crammed into every available corner and space. There were small seats at various points around the interior and Katie found one and perched herself on it.