Chapter Seven
Ron eyed Doris as she made her way from stretcher to stretcher, her pale face determined yet compassionate. Pencil gripped between her fingers, she examined each patient with a studied gaze, then she made notations on the tags. With a smile and a quiet word, she moved on to the next victim. He glanced at his watch. She averaged two-and-a-half minutes with each man. Not bad for a first-timer.
“Am I going to lose my leg, Doctor?”
Ron gazed down at the soldier lying on the floor, his freckles dark against his ashen skin. The boy’s uniform was dirty and torn, his white bandages in stark contrast. “I can’t make any promises other than I will do my best to ensure you’ll be dancing on your wedding day. How does that sound?”
The young man grinned, then grimaced, and clutched his
