The doctor waved a bloody instrument in the direction of another door at the far end of the small surgery and then continued probing the wound, seeking to remove bits of cloth that could cause infection. McDonald groaned. Ira and Potter walked through the door and found Edgar Armstrong and Ben Timmons lying beneath bloodstained sheets. The pallor of death replaced life, vitality and friendship.
Edgar was shot through the heart; Ben had been stabbed in the abdomen. Restoring their dignity, Ira replaced the sheets and stood in respectful silence, head bowed. Both soldiers had seen a fair share of death through war and violence, but they had not lost feeling, nor were they immune to grief.
"We have work to do, Iho," said Ira, breaking the moment with a deep breath.
They returned to the doctor, who was suturing the entrance wound on McDonald's back. Ira crouched near Wayne's face.
"Doctor, can you please leave us for a minute. Take a short break?" Ira asked.