"Jeffries!" the pilot shouted as he jumped on the helicopter.
Shit. Matt rushed to climb into the helo. He gave Chuck the thumbs up as the Blackhawk lifted into the air. As they flew over the outskirts of Baghdad, Matt could feel sweat begin to trickle down his spine under his flack jacket. This was Iraq. It didn't seem to matter that the sun had set hours earlier, or that they were two hundred feet in the air, the temperature still hovered around eighty degrees.
Just ahead he could see the fire burning from the car bomb that had been driven into an Army outpost, the blowing smoke burning his nostrils. From the report they'd received over the radio, they were to expect serious injuries and several casualties.
Matt's stomach knotted. It was something he never got used to. It didn't matter whether he knew the soldiers personally, they were still soldiers, and because of that, his brothers and sisters.
Chuck set the helicopter down with a light touch. Without time to think, they jumped onto the ground running. The next few moments were organised chaos as the wounded were triaged. The soldiers that managed to escape without serious injury helped load those whose lives depended on getting to Sina Hospital in Baghdad.
Within minutes, the Blackhawk was back in the air, Matt trying desperately to save a boy of about twenty. "Come on," he said as he gave the soldier chest compressions.
Next to him his friend Danny worked on a corporal whose leg had been severed by a flying piece of metal.
Blood. There was always so much blood. It's coppery scent, something he'd never forget. "How's your patient?" Danny asked through his headset.
Matt gave a sombre shake to his head. As long as he continued administering chest compressions, he knew the young man would make it to the hospital alive, but the prognosis was grave from that point on. Miracles had been known to happen, however, and Matt hoped for one for this particular private.
A hand gripped his sleeve. Matt's attention swung to the injured soldier to his other side. The man had been unconscious when they'd loaded him, a piece of shrapnel lodged in his neck. They all knew better than to touch it, so they loaded the soldier and started an IV.
"Help me," the guy gasped.
Evidently in the transfer onto the helo, the piece of metal in the soldier's neck had shifted slightly. Blood was arching upward in copious amounts with every breath the man took.
Matt looked around the interior of the Blackhawk. There was no-one available to help the bleeding man. Matt knew if he stopped the chest compressions on the young man he was working on, he'd surely die moments away from the hospital. Shit.
This was the worst part of his job. It was like playing God on a daily basis. How do you live with the guilt of sacrificing one to save another?
With a deep breath, Matt continued with the compressions. He looked at the bleeding man beside him. "Try to relax. We're almost there."
"Please," the bleeding man begged.
"I'm sorry," Matt said. "I can't do anything more, you need a surgeon." Even as he said it, Matt watched the private's eyes begin to close. As the Blackhawk touched down, Matt watched the life drain out of the bleeding soldier.
)
