DulcetFlux & creativemind [WWII]

[DulcetFlux]

The horrors of a war involving nations, banding up into factions and the sheer impact of it used to just be cradle-side stories that her mother or her nursemaid would speak to her about when she was younger. But now, day after day, the sound of cannons firing and bombs dropping and aeroplanes circling the sky and raining down missiles on the battle field became white noise that life could not be complete without. Everything was stirred up from its normal, quiet monotonous hush. Even the halls of the convent and monastery behind St. Andrew's Cathedral was disrupted by the screams and moans of pain from brave men reduced to crying boys as injuries took them.


But despite the carnage and destruction that the war brought about, some individuals were quietly pleased with the fact that they could finally retreat the solace of their fancy lives and take on work that would make them more useful. Anna, a quiet girl who had entered the convent just months before the war broke was one of these people. Conflict had arisen once, about her identity because it was known that she came from a well-to-do family but no one but the Mother Superior knew which one it was. But now in the heat of war, she was glad she could simply dress in the white uniform she and other trained nuns wore to tend to the wounds of the soldiers brought to them.


Another day came when fleets of men just came flooding in with injuries sustained from a crossfire. Anna took a deep breath and clutched the metal crucifix that hung from thin linked chain around her neck before rushing to the courtyard to see the men that were being brought in to the wards which used to be the common halls of the convent.

 

[creativemind]

The longest day had taken its toll on a number of the men he had served with. They all valiantly braved the obstacles on the beaches as they pushed inward toward the rain of gunfire and explosions above them. His ears had only recently stopped ringing once he blinked his eyes blurry swatches of color ahead of him as he felt himself lose control of his own body lifted upward as the sharp, stabbing pain radiating throughout his body as he screamed out for the first time in his life in agony. Quickly he was loaded up and whisked away after having made it just past the beaches before enemy gunfire had torn at his left leg.


They were loaded up onto a small boat then again into a truck where they were carried out to the hospitals. He had been given a tablet to chew on for pain as they had made it to the parking lot the truck came rumbling to a stop. His eyes, blue and heavily sedated looked outward in silence as the collection of nuns and other military staff swarmed the back of the deuce and a half truck loading each injured man out onto a gurney. His leg had been bandaged up to slow the bleeding but three very distinct spots made it easy to see it was from small arms fire. His green uniform now soaked in sweat, dirt, and now dried blood was among the easiest things to deal with as the injured were rolled into the halls.


His eyes looked upward watery and sedated as he wasn't comprehending anything but the visual aspects of the ride. His mouth so dry he could spit dust he would be unable to talk if he wanted. His dog tags lay out from the silver chain against his chest to aid the workers in identification. Matted dark brown hair sat atop his dusty, sweat covered face tanned by the dirt making his pale blue eyes stand out in contrast. He was a larger frame male with the typical olive green uniform on donning three red chevrons on each arm indicating he was a sergeant. Further inspecting his dog tag would reveal his name: Mitchell, James O 407-83-4726 USMC M40.

 

[DulcetFlux]

The nuns were bustling, as today seemed to reel in more patients than any day before. But that was the thing about war, everyday bested the one before, not in terms of coming across a humane option for peace, rather it did better than the day before at driving young men to hospital beds and their mothers to funerals. It was left to hospitals and the nuns and nurses to prevent that feat from doubling or tripling by the day. Anna busied about, rushing to the courtyard and bringing boys in as nurses and doctors tended to them but as the day wore on, the need for someone to tend to them couldn't simply be left to the doctors and nurses alone.


"Sister Anna! Sister Anna!" someone ran to her, calling her. "You and Sister Margaret have to head to the the West Wing and help the doctors with the new patients. The nurses are down in the south wing with the doctors handling more critical cases. Please go down there and help with the minor procedures and dressings..."


"Right away, Sister Jane," Anna nodded and quickly made her way to the West Wing to see what conditions the men could be in and what she could do. She was glad to be put in the West Wing. Only a few of the men here ended up dying. But they usually had the most grotesque visible wounds or gashes or burns. She entered, having cleansed her hands with antiseptic and waited for her assignments.


Officers Tanner, P. Johnson, Knox, Mitchell and Sullivan. She listened to the physician give her her orders and went to the men's bedsides. Tanner was a burns victim. Half of his body was immobile and was badly engulfed in fire that it was blistering so horribly. Knox had a gash at his leg that was bad enough to be feared of sepsis, While Johnson, Sullivan and Mitchell all had there own doses of gunshot.


The doctor was in the middle of extracting bullets from Mitchell's leg as Anna approached him. "Do you need anything doctor?" Anna asked softly in a calm, firm voice that they had to use to keep the patients calm. She went to get a basin and some warm water to wipe the man's forehead which was dripping with what she could imagine as cold sweat. The doctor kept his eyes on the leg as he explained that Mitchell had very obvious wounds on his leg but probably another bullet that would have penetrated his stomach. It wouldn't be too bad but he needed to get it out. Anna nodded, knowing it was a cue for her to prepare antiseptic and anethetic gas to spray. She closed the drapes around his bed and gently looked over him with her dark green eyes to see if he was calm.

 

[creativemind]

As he was wheeled to the wing that seemed to have the least amount of dire injuries there was no short of groans and shouts of agonizing pain. For some a tablet had not been given or it had long since worn off, Mitchell held on to his senses albeit dulled by the medications. Once a doctor approached him, Mitchell's eyes floated upward pools of pale blue unable to focus completely on the doctor but nodding in slight acknowledgement of understanding where he was and why. Without haste, the doctor began to remove the fragments from his leg. Mitchell not wanting to show any weakness focused into space, teeth clenched as a sheen of cold sweat covered his forehead.


Suddenly, a warm cloth swiped against his forehead. It was the most soothing sensation he had felt in what seemed like forever. His pale blue eyes darted upward in the direction of the movement unable to see little but the elbow covered in cloth. He heard voices talking but they were slightly distorted as he tilted his head several seconds processing what had just been said. Once the soothing presence moved away, a surge of panic ran throughout his body like electricity. He raised up on an elbow looking around. His eyes still sedated but with a tinge of fear as he searched the area as the curtains were closed. He feared he would die and they were closing the curtains on him. "No!", Mitchell finally was able to say thick tongued and slurred from the partial sedation.


From no where a pair of dark green eyes appeared over him as the doctor struggled to keep him still. The wave of calm surrounding this woman was enough to settle Mitchell quietly back on the bed. His eyes connected with hers in a struggle to seek strength and comfort from this strange woman. He focused on his breathing which to him at the moment seemed like a formidable task but his chest rose and fell evenly and calmly as he lay back down on the table motionless to allow the doctor to do what he needed. It was reality for him but a hazy one as his vision was still sometimes blurred and a ringing began in his ears again.

 

[DulcetFlux]

Anna saw the man panic in his bed. It was not uncommon for these men to wake up disoriented but it was an undeniable struggle to calm down men who, in their sedated, woozy states had no idea that people were trying to help them and the fact that their reactive actions, coupled with strength that a military man would have, was something that doctors and nurses deemed dangerous to themselves. But Anna, having faced men like this day in and day out knew that there were simply ways to knowing how to calm them down. Some of them responded well when she would whisper prayers into their ears as she misted the area with anesthetic. Some of them preferred if she would hum a few hymns to calm them down, while others wanted to be spoken to, reminded of their mothers or daughters or grandmothers or aunts.


She sat by his bed, just near his head as she gave him the anesthetic and began her usual attempt to calm men down by whispering, "Officer James Mitchell," she said in her soft yet stern, firm yet gentle voice. "You can relax, sir. You are away from the battle lines and in St. Andrew's convent. The doctor would like to remove a bullet from your stomach, sir but there is no need to be alarmed. I am Sister Anna, a nun and a nurse. I'll be helping the doctor. Would you like me to pray, sir?" She watched him, waiting for any sort of response as she used her free hand to dab the warm towel along his forehead. Without waiting, and perhaps for her own purpose of trying to stomach the sight of blood and a man's abdomen being inscisioned, she began to murmur, "Our Father, in heaven, hallowed be thy name..."





Her green eyes watched him gently to see if he would respond--to relax somehow or make a sound or simply allow his body to reduce the tension in it as she murmured her prayer and gently wiped warm water at his forehead. She kept quiet as the doctor would monotonously ask her for an instrument and she would do her duty to clean it and pass it to him up until the last stitch was made.

 

[creativemind]

His head would bob in response affirmatively that he wanted her to pray. Mitchell had never felt so much panic but the title she gave him confused him. He relaxed back in the bed slowly feeling her wipe the warm towel against his head. He allowed the doctor access to his stomach and didn't make move except to dryly say, "Sergeant". He was an enlisted man and a world different than a rank and file officer. "I'm...a...sergeant..", Mitchell would reply again his voice dry and raspy as he struggled to clear his throat which sent a shooting back from his abdomen upward.


ArghhhHH! He groaned loudly his eyes misted a little from the sharp pain as he worked to contain himself again his battle with consciousness had began now with the added pain of the doctor working on his stomach. It was the worst pain he had felt in his life. It actually hurt less to be shot repeatedly, than to be operated on. His body had relaxed some once she had announced exactly where he was and how he was being cared for. His eyes darted around the room trying to focus on anything that would take away the pain but failed.


Soon enough he felt the pressure away from his abdomen and slowly allowed himself to relax completely. Rest. That would be all he could think about as his eyes began to close and drift off to sleep. The woman's deep green eyes appeared to him as he lay there relaxing. The presence of her was soothing and calming in a way he could not explain at the time. Soon enough he would be softly snoring as he lay on the table. The longest day was over for him now. He lay patched up in the makeshift hospital asleep and unaware of what his future may hold.

 

[DulcetFlux]

"Sir, please try not to fight it. You are safe here. The doctor is trying his best," Anna said. She had said this to so many panicking men in their beds. But her voicehad never lost its genuine care. It just tore her heart up every time she saw men, so strong and brave, willing to sacrifice their lives for their country being reduced to disoriented, crying little boys when the war had taken a bite out of them. "Ave Maria, gratia plena..." she murmured softly as she tried to keep him as calm as she could. She saw the terrified look in his blue eyes every time he opened them and tried to keep as calm as possible as blood blossomed from beneath the antiseptic sheet the doctor was working underneath.


Soon enough, he was finished and Sergeant Mitchell visibly calmed down. She sighed in relief as the doctor gave her the instruments to soak in warm water and antiseptic. She did so quietly as the physician moved away to check on another patient. She checked on Sergent Mitchell once more, gently putting dressing and a bandage on his newly-made stitches. "There, officer," said softly. "You are safe now. You need some rest. But if you wake up and need anything, just call for me. I'm Sister Anna..."


She wiped at his forehead with her warm cloth one more time before quietly exciting past the stark white drapes that kept him away from the other men in the ward. She closed the drapes to give him some rest and proceeded to check on the other men.

 

[creativemind]

He would nod off barely shaking his head in acknowledgement of the sister as his tired eyes lost the battle with sleep and closed. He would remain peacefully motionless, softly snoring as a few hours would pass by. Whether outside noise or his own internal clock he awoke nearly 3 hours after having recalled drifting to sleep. He wouldn't make a noise except for to try and swallow some of his own saliva to wet his persistently dry throat. The motion made him cough loudly as even the saliva trickling down his throat was sending a tingling sensation.


He tried to sit up but the torn incision on his abdomen weakened his entire core muscles as he raised only slightly and allowed himself to flop back on the bed. "SARGE! You here?", a man bellowed out causing the halls to echo his voice. "Sergeant Mitchell yes who....", Sergeant Mitchell started speaking as loud as he could with his raspy voice, "Yes", would be all he would say waiting for a reply. It occurred to him the man bellowing may just be delirious and not looking for him specifically. "I'm here son what's going on?", Mitchell would continue. Even through his own battle with pain and healing he had to be a leader.


"I can't see anything, Sarge. It's freaking me out.", the man bellowed out. It was a young voice barely of age to serve probably. "We're in good hands here. Just try to get some rest and pray. I'll come see you later.", Mitchell made the promise and had no idea who outside of that curtain he needed to see and how exactly he would get there with his injuries. Perhaps he would ask the nurse to open his curtain when and if she ever returned to check on him. Those green eyes popped into his mind again and the feeling of calm washed over him as he turned a little on his side. He didn't hear anything in return from the young man. The longest day for them all was over for now. Mitchell lay in the bed staring at a small red smudge on the inside of the curtain keeping his isolated from everyone else. Was it his blood? Someone else's? How many lay outside that curtain? Mitchell's mind rattle through the questions rapid fire as he lay there listening to the groans and silence beginning to take over the room.

 

[DulcetFlux]

Sister Anna was busy with trying to keep all the men in the West Wing in check. Truly, that day brought in a flood of men so many that they had to fill up all the wings of the convent with beds. She remained their, assisting in bullet extractions, sewing up minor wounds, keeping wounds clean and just keeping men calm in general. Then one of them men with burns began screaming and panicking. He had bandages around his eyes where he was badly burned. She was told that he might not be able to see again but she was in no position to tell him so early. She had no intention of doing so anyway.


"Officer, please calm down and get some rest," She told him softly as apparently, he had woken up the Sergeant that they were operating on earlier. She reached for the man's hand and held it just to give him the confidence that someone was watching over him and watched him calm down slowly as she began to hum a few strains of Amazing Grace. She let the man settle down first before adding, "I'll be back to clean your wounds later and redress them, Officer. I'll be back later with it, alright? Is there anything I can get you for later?"





She promised the man a book and went to check on the sergeant who was woken up by the other officer. She parted the curtain gently and went past it to his bedside. She poured him a cup of water and handed it to him quietly, knowing he was parched by then. "Is there anything I can get you, sir?" She asked softly as she gently began to check his wound. She pressed around it with her delicate but steady hands and looked at him with imploring green eyes. "Does this hurt, sir?"

 

[creativemind]

The panicked man grasped desperately for the sister's hand unable to see as she touched his hand he held it firmly. "Thank you. Thank you.", the man would said soaking up the reassurance from her. He settled down nodding his head for any further requests. He turned on his side curling up as a child would soothing himself. It had just been a momentary surge of panic and fear that he was alone.


Mitchell sat up slightly on his elbow looking toward the direction of the curtain open. "Is he ok?", Mitchell asked curiously as his pale eyes began to have more focus. His voice still slightly raspy as he watched her pour the water and hand it. He took the cup eagerly and sipped the water clearing his throat. "Thank you, Sister.", Mitchell's voice was much clearer and a deeper tone than before. He leaned back on his elbow slowly lifting himself upward against the plan metal headrest.


Mitchell sat still allowing her to access his abdominal area to check it. He felt her hands delicately but very medically check his wound. He held the water cup off to the side and lifted it up, "This is good thank you, Sister." He looked down at his own injury as she did and turned his eyes upward to meet her green eyes. He shrugged slightly to her question, "It's not bad. Where am I?" The pain was nearly unbearable but Mitchell didn't want to seem weak in front of anyone. He was coming to his senses slowly from the tablet he had been given prior to being transported to wherever he was located. His face tilted upward toward her a couple day's stubble littered his squared jawline. His hair dark brown, cut close but still slightly disheveled littered with granules of sand from the beach.

 

[DulcetFlux]

Sister Anna knew that these men, especially those in higher ranks usually liked to pretend that they were in no pain so she knew how to read "It's not bad" as it hurts terribly or "It hurts slightly" as a call for her to bring in the doctor. But then, considering that Sergeant Mitchell had just had his stomach opened up a while ago, she knew it was bound to hurt somehow. What concerned her more was that she had to kept him free from sepsis that killed more men than the injuries did. "St. Andrew's convent, Sergeant. It's a few miles off the beach," she said with a delicate yet reassuring voice.


"Your wound is healing up well," she smiled gently as she told him while redressing it. "But please don't be in too much of a hurry to sit up. We all want you to get better at sustainable paces, sir," she said as a compelling request. "I know you are concerned of your men but I assure you that the majority has been sent to medical care already and are needing as much healing as you are." She smiled slightly at him and nodded, as if waiting for him to agree.


"Can I bring you anything to pass the time, sir?" she asked as she took his cup and put it on his bedside table, filling it up again. She waited for his reply, pulling open the curtains that surrounded his bed, letting him have a view and an assessment of how his men were holding up.

 

[creativemind]

Mitchell sensed she knew his act was just a ploy. His voice lowered just for her ears, "It hurts.. but they can't know that." His flashed his blue eyes toward her pleading for an agreement on that tactic. "Most of these men are just boys. Haven't had their first full shave.", Mitchell continued trying to make light of the situation. "What I need is to move about somehow to see them and to find the water closet.", he would continue. He knew the idea would be almost out of question but his eyes pleaded with help to at least visit with his men perhaps with the use of a wheelchair at some point.


As soon as she moved opening the curtains to give him a view, he scanned it carefully taking count of how many men were there and how badly they were injured. "How long have we been here?", Mitchell asked turning his head toward the sister fully making eye contact as his lucidness was coming in full storm. Mitchell was a leader and calm. His current injured position would leave him feeling no less a sense of duty to these men than when their feet first hit the waters off the beaches. His eyes panned out over the rows of beds and back to her in a pleading stance to be allowed to move about.

 

[DulcetFlux]

She smiled very slightly as he finally admitted that his injury hurt and nodded lightly in acknowledgment when he told her not to let the men know. "Oh, I can close the curtains again if you need to use the water closet, sir because the doctor has told me to keep you in strict bed rest for the next few days," she said, showing him a bedpan that would be his WC for the moment. She liked to try and joke around to lighten up the mood but she saw the real concern on the sergeants face. She could feel how he truly cared for the boys under his command.


"Just since this morning, sir. I'm surprised you're up and awake by now, actually," she admitted as he asked about how long they had been there. Her gaze followed what he was looking at for a while and saw men, some delirious, some disfigured, all changed by war in one way or another. "Sir, if you rest well enough today, I promise to ask the doctor if you can be in a wheelchair to talk to the men tomorrow," she said reassuringly.

 

[creativemind]

Her smile made his eyes light as his gaze fell upon her and away from the rows of injured men. Once she began to speak, his eyes glanced down at the stainless steel bed pan and his eyes feel in disappointment. He raised his eyes back up once more in a pleading motion, "Sister, I couldn't possibly wet in that bed pan. Would you please wheel me off to a standard water closet.", Mitchell's voice was a mix of a pleading and firm tone. He was doing his best to request instead of order as had been his role in war.


It was completely demoralizing to be reduced to wetting in a bedpan for Mitchell. He was a proud man and lifted himself up further in the bed to prove his ability to move around without her needing to lift him. "Just bring the chair please. The doctor can be upset with me if he wants but no grown man in his right mind wants to wet in a bed pan.", Mitchell said firmly and chuckled a little at the end. He was sitting almost fully upright now. His long legs still stretched out across the bed. "Tomorrow, I need to bathe myself. I know I smell to high heaven and I am sorry for that.", Mitchell grinned. His grin was masking the incredible pain he was experiencing from moving around.

 

[DulcetFlux]

"I pity all the military men who now have to wet in bedpans," she chuckled. But ti was a considerate sort of joke as she kept it at a tone that would only be between her and the sergeant. She reached into her pocket and handed him a small pill. "Here, take this. I wouldn't want you screaming in pain when I bring you to the water closet," she said with a little smile playing on her lips. She waited for him to take the pill before quietly bringing a chair by his bed.


"Relax your body on three, sir," she told him gently but firmly as she wrapped an arm just below his chest to avoid his wound and gently supported his shoulders with her other arm. "Kindly swing your legs over the side of the bed as I say so, alright?" She made sure first, that she had drawn teh curtains back in place so no man had to see the sergeant's ordeal of having to be helped into a wheelchair by a nun.


"One... two... three," she said as her body, developing from doing this day in and day out easily helped the sergeant to sit at the edge of his bed. She supported his back gently, acting as a pseudo-headrest. "Now, on three, sir, I'd like you to try to stand as steadily as you can. It will be quick..." She waited for him to get ready before counting again. "One... two... three," she said as she hoisted him up and quickly but gently guided his body into the seat of the wheelchair.


She smiled. "Comfortable?" she asked as she drew his curtains back and wheeled him through the rows of beds as slowly as she could so he could survey his men until they reached the water closet.

 

[creativemind]

He slid the pill into his mouth and reached for the cup of water downing it. Before he could attempt to hoist himself into the chair the sister had wrapped her arms around his chest. He looked down unsure of how this small woman could lift him. "I can...", Mitchell began to say as the movements were smooth and quick. Before he realized he was seated in the wheelchair and he tilted his head back and upward toward the sister, "I could've just stood up on one leg.", his voice grumbled. He appreciated the additional tablet and knew he would be asleep soon but he didn't like the feeling of being helpless and guided around by a nun.


"I'm about as comfortable as I could possibly be I think.", Mitchell said as the chair began to move. His eyes studied over then men carefully as they passed by. Some of them he recognized others he did not know but they were all the same to him. His men. Once they reached the water closet, Mitchell held up his hand politely waving off any assistance as he scooted forward and stood awkwardly as he wobbled just in front of the chair slightly. His fingertips stayed against the armrests steadying himself until he got his footing and reached toward the door pulling it open. He turned his head nodding in a slight appreciation toward the sister as he disappeared inside of the water closet.


Once inside, he would relieve himself and take that opportunity to wash up a little. Only his hands and face obviously but once he had returned, his face was free of the layer of dirt and sand. His hands much cleaner but still had small cuts and the nail beds were dirty. Yet, he felt better and turned although the stabbing pain in his abdomen and throbbing pain in his leg urged him back to the chair. He reappeared only a short time later seating himself carefully in the chair. "Thank you for letting me have that dignity.", Mitchell would say softly only for her ears as he settled in the chair his hands folded across his lap.

 

[DulcetFlux]

She smiled at him genuinely and nodded. She felt like she understood how it felt when these men were allowed not to be babied. They, especially the officers, strong men in their own respect, anyway. So, she tried to understand from their point of view how it would felt to be degenerated into a child. It would simply be a bad sign if they didn't refuse it because it would mean that the fear of war had crept into them and had taken possession of them.


She smiled gently at him. "Your purpose here, sir is to get better and if you believe that being made to wet in a bedpan would not make you better, then I believe so too," she said softly as she began to wheel him back to his bed. But before she led the chair to his bed, she asked him briefly. "Would you mind a quick visit, sir?"





She led his chair to the man who had been screaming earlier on. She knew he needed someone to be there for him while Sergeant Mitchell needed to feel in charge again as much as he could. "Officer Barnes," she said softly as not to startle him. She found his hand with hers and continued. "Sergeant Mitchell is here to see you for a while."

 

[creativemind]

Mitchell would nod his head. He didn't know the man who had been screaming even though he was nearly face to face with him right now. Mitchell reached out tapping the man's foot just hard enough to be noticed. "You need to stop that screaming, son, you're scaring the hell out of everybody in here. We're all here at a convent...", Mitchell's tone was firm but reassuring his eyes focused directly on the man's face that was heavily bandaged. "Everybody's got a little something wrong with them. Just rest and try to do what they say they're here to help. Alright?", Mitchell raised the tone in the end as a question to see if the young man would respond.


"Yes sir.", the young man said muffled. He would move his foot back toward Mitchell's hand again and Mitchell gave it another tap. "You're gonna be fine boy just rest. We're all ok here.", Mitchell said as he tapped the bed and placed his hands back in his lap again. He wasn't sure if he would be left to sit by the bed or wheeled away. His gaze fixed on the boy laying there. Barely old enough to serve and afraid. Mitchell felt a bit of sadness for the boy as he knew his life was going to be forever changed.


Mitchell raised his head upward to see if the sister was still behind him.

 

[DulcetFlux]

(Sorry if this one will be below average. Lack of sleep plus typing from my phone is not a good combination.)


The sister was indeed behind him, watching how he handled his men. She understood that men like him felt just as responsible for their men's healing as they were for their own as soon as they were in beds of the same rows. Before that would happen, though, she could barely imagine any high ranking official even knowing these boys by name. It was a late change in heart but it was change in these stone cold men nonetheless.


She smiled as the Sergeant finished talking to the boy and gently touched the boy's hand again. "Officer Barnes, Sergeant Mitchell will be returning to bed rest now," she said softly before she began to wheel Mitchell back to his bed. "Rest, please sir," she told Mitchell as she lifted him out of the chair like she did when he was on the bed and put him back in.

 

[creativemind]

"I don't need to be lifted.", Mitchell protested gently against the sister. He stood up fully making himself out of reach for her arms. Slowly, he lifted himself sliding the non-injured leg into the bed and pulling himself on it. There was a little wince of pain but it was the way he'd have it. He couldn't bear the mental anguish of having to be carried or helped in such a manner. The effects of the tablet were starting to fade him out as his eyes would seem less alert. He settled himself in the bed pulling the sheet to cover himself.


"I'm going to rest now. Wake me if they won't calm down. They'll listen..to...me.", Mitchell's voice would fade into a soft snore again. His body relaxed, arms drooping to his sides. He would stand up for the men even though he could barely stand up himself. Mitchell would rest comfortably for several hours. The only movement that could be seen was the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest as he slept soundly with a second dose of the medication running through his system.

 

[DulcetFlux]

Anna let him get up on his own as he made effort to pull away from her but her hands never strayed too far from his body just in case he needed the support. "Yes, sir," she said to acknowledge his opinion when he said he didn't need to be lifted. She truly believed that these men knew better than the doctors when it came to knowing what was best to heal them. She made sure she had gotten into bed and watched his eyelids grow heavy as the medicine took effect.


"They'll be fine under my watch for now, sir," was probably the last thing he heard before drifting off to sleep. The next few hours she spent dressing wounds, fixing bandages, bringing men medicine and books and whenever she had a few minutes to spare, she'd bring in her guitar and would play them a few songs that they could sing along to just to keep all of them as calm as she could.

 

[creativemind]

Mitchell slept soundly through what would be the evening, night and into the wee hours of the next morning. He woke slowly blinking his eyes looking around still contained by the curtain. The lull of noise led him to believe it was the middle of the night. He didn't hear any noises except for the occasional snore and low voices talking at a distance. Mitchell was content to lay there staring upward at the ceiling. The silence so loud it was filling his ears with its nothingness.


He took a deep cleansing breath holding it for a second before allowing the air to rush through his nostrils. It helped him clear his head. He felt incredible guilt and helplessness for being trapped in a hospital bed while everyone else was still in the fight with the Nazis. Mitchell looked over at the wheelchair still parked close by his bed. He eyed it for awhile contemplating if he had the strength to get to it. He swung his legs around and sat up slowly. The blood rush caused a moment of blurry vision but he lifted himself up hobbling over to the wheelchair and sat down. He reached down flipping the feet plates down as he propped his oversized body into the chair.


He tugged at the curtain going nearly a quarter of the way around the ring before he found the opening. He pushed himself out of the curtain slightly surveying the rook. The clock high on the wall seemed to read 5:03 and with the sea of sleeping men Mitchell concluded it was morning. He pushed himself slowly down the row toward the water closet he was taken to the day before. The pride in pushing himself and freedom the chair gave him was enormous at the time. Once he made it to the water closet door, he knocked very gently and stood hobbling himself inside. Once he finished and washed up, he returned to the chair and wheeled himself toward the gathering of sisters and doctors.

 

[DulcetFlux]

"Sergeant," one of the doctors said sternly. "You should be in bed, resting. You just had vital surgery earlier on. You cannot be up and about this moment!" He was obviously the doctor who had done the procedure on him. "Nurse, I-I mean, Sister, do take this officer back to his bed," he added, beckoning to Sister Anna.


Anna sighed and nodded, taking the handles of Sergeant Mitchell's chair and began to push him down the lane of beds. "I would spoil you with all the activity I can but I can't do that with them around," she said in a slightly amused voice as she led him back to his bed. "Can I get you something in the mean time? The doctors are doing their rounds but they'll be gone soon, what with worse cases to look after in the South Wing.

 

[creativemind]

Mitchell would chuckle a little as he obliged the sister for this instance with the promise of freedom later. "I'm fine really. I didn't sign that dotted line to be coddled like some baby.", Mitchell shook his head looking over at the doctor as he was being whisked back to the confines of his bed. "You think later I could wash myself up and get something else to wear? My socks are about to stand up by themselves.", Mitchell continued to talk to her low enough for only her and perhaps a passing ear would understand.


Once he was back at his bed, he climbed out obediently and sat in the bed. "Hmmm?", he turned back making the noise for her approval of what he had request and the fact that he was up and moving around better than doctors expected him to be at this point. "Vital surgery or not... I smell awful...", he grinned at her flashing his blue eyes at her.

 

[DulcetFlux]

"It was an unspoken agreement when you were shot that the consequence of your inadequacy to defend yourself is to be coddled like a baby," Sister Anna chuckled genially as she led his chair to the bed. "And of course, sir. I'll do nothing more than bring your chair to the bath and draw the water in, if you would demand so much as to ask for bodily autonomy while you bathe."


Anna always seemed to have her lips quirked up in a mischievous smile if her lips weren't pursed in concentration. Her green eyes were lively and simply optimistic despite the fact that she believed she was a realist when she was handling men in such delicate situations as these. She made sure that Sergeant Mitchell was in bed before going to the linens closet to fetch him one of the pairs of pajama-looking outfits they had for the men confined there. They were stark white from afar but closer inspection showed that they were clean cotton shirts and loose pants made of white material with blue pinstripes. She drew warm water into a small tub, kept behind a divider and saw to it that the doctors were away.


"Sergeant Mitchell," she said in a playfully hushed tone. "The coast is clear, sir." She chuckled and produced his chair from behind his bed and began to help him into it. By his bath tub were a bar of soap, a towel and a scrub for him to use. "Be careful on your stitches later, sir. I'll change the dressings after your bath."