My eyes slowly adjust to the flickering, fluorescent light. I examine the artificially lighted room and find myself looking into the eyes of a young woman. Her anxious face instantly relaxes and she whispers, ‘Welcome back.’
My hands brush against linen sheets as I try to steady myself upright. Before I can sit straight, a cry escapes my throat. An excruciating pain shoots from my abdomen, restricting my breathing. A cool, soft hand immediately covers my cheek and my body settles. I take deep, deliberate breaths.
She lightly touches my back for support as she lays me down. I cannot speak, just simply watch her as she wets a cloth and dabs it on my forehead. The pain extends up and down my body; I can feel a fever radiating from my skin.
‘You’ve been at the casualty station for over a week now. A soldier took you in from the Western Front with a bullet beneath your lung. You’re fortunate that you’re even here.’ I close my eyes and recall the vague yet familiar scene.
I watch my breath condense before my very eyes, but my attention immediately averts to the sudden bright flash overhead. The thundering of bullets reverberates over the trenches and a light whistle grows louder. Following the signal, I leap up from my place and race forward.
The whistling approaches overhead, but I do not hear an explosion. I hear nothing but a humming, feel nothing but a throbbing under my chest and a scorching heat lick my face. Then I see nothing but black.
Photo: Australian Army Medical Corps personnel
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