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"One" - Creative writing.

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"One"- First Draft "Medic!" the cry rang out through the hot street. Another gunshot, and men scrambled for cover like scared rabbits. The man still lay bleeding in the middle of the road. The war had started today, and he was already dying. He made an attempt to crawl for safety. Too late, he looked pleadingly to his comrades. A rifle bullet cut through stifling air and bit deep into the man's backbone. He writhed, screaming in pain. A final shot, this time better aimed. A burst of blood from his neck and a gargle, and he was gone forever. He was dead. His radio crackled. A few miles away someone needed help. "Med Evac to grid 647- 321. Landmine detonation. One casualty. Serious." George Robertson lay in the muddy field, in a pool of dirty water and his own blood. Like a Valkyrie coming to claim him, a helicopter buzzed overhead, and two medics kneeling beside him spoke in terse, quiet voices. Of course, George didn't know any of this. George didn't know that his legs were a smoking ruin and that his pelvis had been smashed, fragments forced into his gut and spine. There was no pain, only the purgatory black of unconsciousness. A memory formed in his mind. The morning rally echoed out over the barracks. ...read more.


He had a weather-beaten face; he'd seen it all before, too many times. "Whats going on with him?", the Doctor inquired. "Massive internal bleeding... he needs surgery now, sir", recommended a senior medic, brandishing x- ray photos at the Doctor, who brushed past him. Uncaring of the swirling melee, like a ghost in the night, the Doctor walked to George, who was still thrashing about on the table. The Doctor took George's arm, and took a syringe from his pouch. The needle slipped into the skin, like the mouthpiece of a hungry mosquito. A thumb pushed the plunger, and the Doctor shouted "Ten millegrams morphine going in...." A minute later, the potent opiate did its work and the thrashing stopped. His pulse was still weak, but had slowed to a safer level. His blood pressure, though, the Doctor noted, was through the floor. The room was silent and still. The doctor breathed in long and slow. "Get this man to theatre. I'm going to do what I can.". The Doctor said, and walked away to get ready. "Oh, and contact HQ. They have to inform his family." The shaking stopped as the ramp on the Hercules transport reached its fully open position. The thirty young men checked their parachutes one last time. They looked at the light by the door- still red. ...read more.


It all sank in. "OK... I've looked at the map. Meet at grid 502-178", said Mark. "Roger, see you-" George stopped talking. He'd seen something move in the trees to his left. George immediately went prone, and looked around him. He crawled through the undergrowth, and saw a man walking away. He looked in his early twenties... maybe the same age as George. He carried an AK-47, and wore a red t shirt, with the words "Always Coca Cola" emblazoned on the back. George moved again, this time snapping a twig. The man turned around, eyes wild with panic. He lifted his gun to shoot George. George instinctively pulled the trigger on his rifle. A shout of gun, and the man was on the floor. George lay there, stunned. He'd just killed a man. He got up to look at the man. and jogged. The rendezvous couldn't be far away now. A half hour later, George was being briefed by the lieutenant. They had 11 men in the squad, and the main force had landed on the beach a few miles away. Helicopters buzzed overhead..... "Now that the war is through with me..." George stepped forwards.... "I'm waking up I cannot see...." His foot hit something metallic..... "Deep down inside I feel the scream....." "Landmine!" shrieked a squaddie. George was in terrible pain....... "This terrible silence stops me....." The world went white. "Now the world is gone, I'm just one, Oh God help me....." The pain stopped. George remembered no more. "He's dead, Doctor". ...read more.

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