|BF3 Life in War
Author: Unguided PM
Follow David Gortchavez throughout the Russo-American war. Through ups and downs, good health and dire injury everything will be documented.Rated: Fiction T - English - Chapters: 2 - Words: 2,219 - Updated: 05-09-12 - Published: 04-19-12 - id: 8040556
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N I do intend to keep this going for some time unlike my RvB attempt which was really poor.
As David Gortchavez woke up groggily from his light sleep, last night's patrol was still in his head and every part tired him out like he felt now. David dragged his hand across his face to wake himself up. What he felt though was odd, his face was cracked and dry. Hells if my squad had pulled another prank on me I was gonna make sure I'd volunteer us to clean the shit pits, he mused. That extra $10 a week would be enough to treat himself to that new subway combo everyone was talkin' about. He tried moving his head yet to no success. He tried again, he gained some leverage and his head was forced back down.
"What the hell have you guys done ," David blurted out but he choked on the last two as a warm liquid from his stomach flooded his mouth. David swallowed it back down to his tongue's disgust and his face wrinkled up cracking some more.
"Damn sir you talk crazy shit while dosed up on morphine I'd have thought that much would have sedated you," joked a voice. Panicking David lifted his head with much more force than he would have expected and saw what would have launched most into hysterics. Then it all pieced together now. That patrol was 4 years ago in Afghan when he was a lowly private he had no authority back then. His tent had turned into a suddenly taller more spacious tile riddled room. David's head was forced back down to refuse him the sight of gore lower down on his body. It was obvious to him why his face was dry and cracked. Blood spray. His face focused on the tiles and he thought to himself, what the fuck was he doing in the toilets. Realising what was keeping his head down didn't restrict him from turning his head side to side. He turned his head to the right and saw a figure in a Boonie hat and just above the figure was a sign saying metro. That's all he saw, his vision went black, he felt cold and the only thing he heard was silence.
Waking with a start Davids muscles were torn from lifelessness back to the brink. 1000 volts riddled my nerves and he lost control he moved in a horrible convulsive motion before being restrained. The 1000 volts corrected his irregular heart beat but had wiped every ounce of morphine from him. Feeling this searing pain he entered a deranged mumbling. Someone slapped his face to get his attention. He turned to see a battle worn man look down on him the grey eyes let no emotion in or out and even as David saw them, mocking him. They had to clean him make him safe so they mocked him in return. This man's unwavering emotions and calm posture relaxed David, thank god for combat medics.
"You are not dyeing on my watch ya here me, I'm going to make sure you get through this," shouted the ragged medic. David nodded and a high pitch mumble came out of his mouth as he applied pressure to his wound. The boonie wearing figure was again resting against the wall despite the ensuing battle and what was happening next to them. David's right hand gestured towards them. They rested the rifle against the wall and took David's hand.
"Where gonna get you out of here sarge," stated an instantly recognisable female voice. Their name was printed on the name bar on the standard issue greens she was wearing . Her hand was still in his not in the affectionate sense but to will him on. He thanked her silently as this would be a weird time to announce love and nor did he have any feelings for her. Withdrawing his hand he went for his admin pouch but he was suddenly bombarded with disapprovals of his action.
"Admin pouch, tactical map, pen," was all David could muster up. Henderson went for his admin pouch unzipping it she passed him a pen and placed the map in front of him. On the map there was a series of the letters A and B scrawled in red ink which were crossed out, destroyed and plans of attack which up until now were working. The map displayed the interior of the station where he was and outside where the last set of A and B markings were, but they weren't crossed out. Setting to work with what little time he had conscious left he scrawled strategic movements during which he was interrupted with bouts of pain and an injection of morphine. Finished he assigned Henderson with executing what was scrawled on the map. Looking at the medic one last time he said.
"I stemmed the bleeding as best I could and cleaned the wound. It was more of a flesh wound what you saw not the actual stuff it wasn't that bad. You're free to drop out but someone will have to stay to check your pulse." Just before whiting out David heard "this seems plausible" grinning he faded out of consciousness.