The soldiers eased the wounded man onto the floor of the chopper. One of our own, I could tell from the uniform, and I had seen too many wounds just like the one in his lower belly to know that he wasn’t going to make it. His hands were slick with his own blood, holding onto his stomach as if that alone could staunch the wound. When he saw me staring, I turned away. Don’t let Tommy be like this,I prayed, busying myself with monitoring the instrument panel. Please God, don’t let him die.
One of the USO girls lifted the man’s head into her lap and held his face in both hands as she stroked his flushed cheeks. Her hair fell in a veil that covered her face, but when she tucked it behind one ear, leaving a smudge of the soldier’s blood on her cheek, I recognized her as Bert’s girl, Ellie. “It’ll be okay, honey,” she was saying. I could hear the tears in her voice. “Everything’s gonna be fine. Just hold on a little while longer. Hold on, shh.”