An Act of War

She had a gentle manner. It was most disarming. The exasperation he’d felt drained away, his initial resistance now seeming petty and cruel. He should try to be considerate and calm, following her example. She didn’t need to be kind to him, but she had no reason not to be. She chose to be pleasant, so he should too.

She mopped at his brow, applying only light pressure, careful not to drag at his wound.

“Let’s try again,” she said. “What were you doing before you came here? Were you only observing? Or did you take an active part in the fighting? There’s no shame in a soldier running away when he sees other people dying around him.”

Madigan stiffened, his neck and shoulders becoming like stone. “I did my share too. It was more good luck than anything. Charlie was firing indiscriminately at us from up in the trees. They’d got snipers hiding there – we had to cross fifty yards of open ground to reach our objective. They were hosing us down with Chinese AKs: they didn’t need to be marksmen. But that’s why they often use children; they’re agile and small and only need a minimum of training. Hoss managed to hit one: he must have only been eight or nine. But we didn’t stop to see if he was still alive. There was too much going on to do anything like that.”

The nurse nodded, her almond eyes suddenly flaring.

“It’s hell out there,” she said.

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