Gunshots so loud it still echos in my reincarnated life,
Each night I see the shots being fired lighting up the night skyline, just like the fireworks do now for the New Year’s Eve.
It’s that very image I jump awake to each night, the silence still echos, screams , machine guns ….
There are many dug out dungeons.
My hair so sleek pinned back in a perfect bun,
The dress pressed to perfection, the collar and cuffs as white as snow,
The choice of material was serge, and held the colour of the sky; blue.
Kerchief wrapped around the head to give the final touch.
I was dressed to precision.
Along side where my helpers , one screamed “Maitron! , I can’t keep this one going”.
The odour of boric acid and sodium hypochlorite so potent till this day, it reminds me of than.
“Let’s just sedate with chloroform!”, I yelled, in hope to keep him going and rest at a lower heart rate.
Blood oozing from many wounds , my sterile apron obviously not sterile anymore.
The camp fire lit very dim, to not attach too much attention.
The opposition are moving in closer each day,
All men sleep deprived and many malnutritioned despite all the volunteers serving the best in such a situation.
My dress tethered, the rain has washed all the blood off my open wound.
I’m breathing so heavily I can almost count each heartbeat in my mind.
I feel the lack of oxygen and I’m clearly hyperventilating.
Will I be able to get back to camp site ?
Who are these men ?
What do they want ?
Do I know something that will caused destruction ?
At the camp I find causality number 112.
After the chloroform had done its job, I sterilised my scalpel on a burning fire,
Cutting away the tissue around the 2 wounds, now hopefully the debridement will keep infection away.
Done !, methylated sprite than soaked the would , causing the casualty nil pain, thank goodness!
I than bring together my sharp tools to seal up the wound.