Chapter 72
Field hospital
Gyulafehérvár
As the weather grew colder, there was much desire to try to find a warmer, more permanent place in which to house those soldiers still convalescing from their wounds. Both the Collegium Academicum and the Princely Palace had been crossed off the list by the Transylvanian court, much to Isaac’s frustration. Both facilities had ample room for such patients, but the collegium was, after all, a college, and thus needed its space for students. And the palace was, well, the palace, and who in their right mind would consider soiling the opulent floors of the prince’s home with the blood of mercenaries?
The search was ongoing.
In the meantime, two wood-burning stoves had been brought into the tent to try to keep those still recovering from freezing to death. Isaac wore as many layers as he could and still perform his duties.
He reviewed a patient’s chart at the foot of bed number six. “Why are you still here, Captain? I need this bed for the wounded.”
“Are you releasing me from your care?” Christian asked, happily sitting upright to await the answer.
“I am…if you’ll allow me to check your burns one more time.”
“Certainly.”
Isaac pulled the blanket away to reveal a right nasty patch of burned skin on Christian’s leg. Over the thigh and knee. As it turned out, the right leg had taken the brunt of the fire. The area was still tender, sore, and the rough scar tissue, which was beginning to form, would never disappear. It was healing nicely, however, and despite tightness and pain, the damage wasn’t life threatening, nor would it keep Christian from walking.
“You’re cursed, my friend,” Isaac said, giving Christian’s leg a gentle tap before replacing the blanket. “Your right side is cursed. Your right eye and now, your leg. Might I recommend that next time you foolishly charge into a regiment of Tatars, you show them your left side?”
Christian chuckled. “Assuming I ever charge into battle again.”
Isaac raised a hopeful brow. “You’ve decided to resign your commission?”
Christian removed the blanket and turned to sit upright on the bed, a move he had been practicing for a good while for this inevitable moment. He sighed deeply and rubbed his face and did well to hide the pain Isaac knew the stubborn captain felt. “It’s not quite that complicated with mercenary captains, Isaac. In truth, I could just walk away—or ride away, if you prefer—since we’re not in the middle of a fight. But I haven’t decided yet.” He looked behind him, toward where Andreea and Devorah were taking care of patients. “I know what Andreea wants me to do.”
“She’s a good woman,” Isaac said, handing Christian his cleaned and folded breeches before the man froze to death. “She’ll make an honest man out of you.”
Christian huffed, shaking the chill away. “I know it.” He put his clothing on as quickly as possible, taking care not to stretch his thigh too quickly, thus aggravating his wounds and tearing the remaining blisters.
“I want you to promise me,” Isaac said, “that you’ll follow the therapy regimen I’ve written down for you. I want you to stretch that leg every day, in the manner I have described, to ensure that that scar doesn’t tighten up. If you don’t, I’ll—”
“I know, I know,” Christian said, waving him off. “You’ll find me and kill me.”
They both laughed at that, though Isaac could see that deep laughter brought serious pain to his friend. The kind of trauma Christian had suffered had affected his whole body, even if the most significant wounds were confined to his legs. In truth, Christian was breaking down, whether he wished to accept it or not. His youth would mask such trauma for a while, but not forever. He needed monthslong rest and therapy to fully recover from the trauma of both battles that he had fought on the Transylvanian plateau. Would he do it? Please, please, my friend, resign, return to Déj with Andreea, and live out your days in peace.
“Oh,” Christian said, tying up his breeches with cold fingers, “congratulations are in order, are they not…chief medical officer of the Sunrise?”
Isaac rolled his eyes. “You heard, did you?”
“You can’t keep something like that a secret.” Christian winked. “Not when you have a nurse like Devorah Bayer in the tent.”
Isaac made a mental note to scold the sweet lady later. “Yes, Oberheuser has resigned. He’s returning to Kassa on the Jupiter later this afternoon with the rest of them. I’ve accepted the position, but…I don’t know. I’m still young, Christian. I’m not sure I’m qualified yet to be the chief.”
“Nonsense. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again: you’re the doctor everyone wants to work with. They respond to you. They respect you. You have General Roth’s confidence, for sure, or he wouldn’t have appointed you.” Christian turned carefully and placed his hand on Isaac’s shoulder. “Just don’t carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. Let me, Devorah, Oana, all of us, help you carry the load. All right?”
Isaac smiled, though his never-ending anxiety rose in his throat. He swallowed, nodded. “Thank you, Christian.”
Isaac handed Christian a cane that Oana had given him, one that her father—whom Morris had recently gotten released from prison—had owned. He could tell that his friend didn’t like using it, didn’t like the symbolism of old age that it projected. If Isaac hadn’t been standing right there, Christian might have tossed it away. Instead, he accepted the cane, turned and said, “Andreea? I’m ready when you are.”
Andreea finished with a patient, a young Silesian guardsman sporting a terrible concussion who, in his delirium, kept claiming that he had captured the Janissary commander. She then joined them, giving Isaac a small bow. “Herr Doctor, with your permission, I will escort your Captain von Jori to his company.”
Isaac nodded. “You may, and may you keep him well.”
With the cane in his right hand, Christian placed his left in Andreea’s hand. “Will you be joining us at the Jupiter this afternoon?” he asked.
Isaac shook his head. “No. I’m sending Devorah as my representative. Oana and I have important matters to attend to here.”
“Very well. Then will we see you tomorrow night for dinner?”
“Yes,” Isaac confirmed with a curt nod and a smile. “My treat.”
As he watched them leave the tent, Oana waved him over politely. “Isaac? Can you give me assistance with this patient?”
Isaac raised his hand in acknowledgement. He smiled. “Of course, Oana. I’ll be right with you.”
Sunrise Airfield
Gyulafehérvár
The Jupiter was already fueled and running as Morris pushed Len up to it for loading. Len could walk, but Ellie insisted that her husband be loaded onto the plane to ensure he didn’t start running away the moment his feet touched the tarmac. The badly wounded communications specialist didn’t want to leave, but his shoulder was not improving at the pace that Doctor Kohen liked. The flesh was healing, but its mobility hadn’t improved much at all. A quick flight to Kassa and then on to Magdeburg where they had superior medical facilities and procedures to deal with such problems. Maybe they could fix him, maybe not. Now that the battle was over, it was time to try.
Ellie was going with him, in addition to a few other patients whose wounds would benefit from better care than the Sunrise medical staff could provide. Retiring Doctor Oberheuser was going as well, and he had volunteered to oversee the care of the patients during the flight.
Lieutenant Karl Enkefort had, as predicted, lost his arm. At Ellie’s behest, he had decided to leave the army and return to Prague. His radio knowledge and skills would help shore up her and Len’s absence.
Enkefort’s captain had come to see him off, as had Denise Beasley who, Morris learned recently, had a strong connection with Second Cavalry Regiment. Also present was Andreea Hatmanu, clinging to Captain von Jori like a life preserver. Clearly, there were things going on behind the scenes that the Sunrise general did not know. Time to talk to Isaac, Morris thought as he brought Len to a halt, and get all the scuttlebutt.
Morris took Len’s working hand and shook it vigorously. “I want to thank you both,” he said, “for being here, for working with me. I know it was a difficult decision to make, leaving Prague, but as the old, stale cliché says, ‘I couldn’t have done it without you’?”
“What exactly have you done, Morris?” Ellie asked.
Good question, and for the moment, Morris wasn’t sure of the answer. There was still much more to do to bring his Anaconda Project to full froth, thus wiping out any possibility that something like the Chmielnicki Pogrom could ever happen in this timeline. So, what had he done? A lot, in truth, but his ultimate goal was still to be achieved, and the ebbs and flows of life were never easy to predict. The past year had turned out in his, and the Sunrise’s, favor. Who knew what the next year might bring?
Morris smiled, but ignored her question. “I also want to apologize for my harsh behavior during the battle. I—”
“Don’t worry about it, boss,” Len said. “Hell, Ellie sounds off all the time, as you well know.”
Ellie giggled. “I do.” She took Morris’ hands into her own and squeezed them in strong affirmation. “You’re forgiven, my friend, so don’t worry about it any longer. Our friendship transcends time, and it always will.”
Morris pulled Ellie close and hugged her tightly, not wanting to let go, but feeling Eddie Junker’s eyes on him from the cockpit window, as if the pilot were pointing at his wrist and shouting, “Let’s go. Time’s money.”
Ellie kissed Morris’ cheek, then turned away as the Jupiter crew picked up Len in his wheelchair and handed him up to other crew waiting. “Hey, Len!” Morris shouted over the roar of the Jupiter engines.
“What?”
“Get the chess board ready. When I see you again in Prague, I’m gonna whip your ass!”
Len smiled, nodded. “You’ll try, anyway!”
* * *
Despite the sadness of the moment, Denise was in good spirits. Yes, a friend of hers was getting on the Jupiter and leaving forever. But getting Enkefort off the battlefield was the right thing to do. His physical impediment would not have made his service as a cavalry lieutenant impossible, but certainly difficult.
“I hate seeing you go,” Denise said as she stood with Christian and Andreea, his new lady love, bidding Enkefort goodbye under the shadow of the up-time plane. “In my opinion, you were the best radio operator in the field. The Sunrise is losing a star.”
“Thank you, Denise,” Enkefort said. Denise could see that he was still in quite a bit of pain, though the surgery to remove his arm had gone well. It would take a while for him to recover. She only hoped that he found good care in Prague once he arrived. “I wish I were staying.”
“Doctor Kohen offered you a medical supply position,” Christian said. “You turned it down.”
Enkefort huffed. “I’m a mercenary soldier, Captain, and a radio operator. And I’m missing an arm. What good am I in that position?”
Christian nodded. “Fair enough. But, as Denise says, I too hate to see you go. The company is losing its best lieutenant, and I’m losing my right-hand man.”
An awkward pause, and Denise saw that Christian realized his error. He started to correct himself. Denise jumped in.
“You’ll have to forgive Captain von Jori’s inarticulate comment, Karl. He’s not thinking with his brains right now.”
Christian got the crude joke. Andreea seemed confused. Christian chuckled, leaned into Andreea’s ear, and whispered, “I’ll tell you later.”
“That’s quite all right,” Enkefort said. “And you’re right, Captain: I’m no good to you in this condition. You’ll find another to take my place. There are plenty to choose from.”
Christian shook his head, his expression turning sour. “Not as many as there used to be.”
“Indeed. But you’ll manage, Captain. You always have. Goodbye, sir.” Enkefort pulled away, then paused to salute.
Christian saluted. “Take Prague by storm, Lieutenant. That’s an order.”
They shared a smile, then Enkefort turned, and with help from the crew, climbed into the Jupiter.