Gimme Shelter

For three days, the 1019th CSH had been on the move. They were not normally a mobile unit, but all medical units within fifty miles had been recalled to Saigon. The PLF had renewed their attacks on the South Vietnamese capital, and there were heavy casualties. They'd hastily taken down the tents, helicopters coming to move what wounded they had at the site already.

Nearly thirty miles in three days, Eden thought, and we're still not in sight of the city. Damn this rain. And damn the VC. The People's Liberation Front might be attacking Saigon, but the 1019th was plagued by the Viet Cong. Private First Class Eden DeWitt stared at the other pale, tense faces in the Army Nurse Corp truck. They hadn't been attacked yet, but everyone felt the same awful sense of foreboding. There were enemy soldiers out in the jungle, and it was only a matter of time.

Eden glanced at the soldiers sitting at the very back of the truck, rifles held loosely but ready. She felt a surge of affection for them both. My guardian angels, she thought, hiding her smile. Corporal Edward "Fuzz" O'Reilly and Corporal Alan Torres, who'd befriended a young and very frightened nurse on her first tour of duty. She'd been fresh out of medical school, determined to take her skills to the men who needed it most.

The hippie movement was definitely not for Eden. She preferred doing something to talking about it. She did not really support the idea of war; however, her government was sending men to Vietnam regardless of her beliefs. How could she possibly sit on her ass, wearing flowers, sleeping with anything on two legs, and waving signs when there were men dying? Still, she wasn't prepared for the jungle.

It had been Fuzz who'd found her crying behind the operating tent after her first big wave of wounded. She'd thought she could handle anything, but she'd watched a boy younger than her die on the operating table from shrapnel that had torn off half his face. She'd been able to finish helping the surgeon, to finish out her shift in a wooden kind of shock. But the racking sobs had hit her as she stumbled out to return to her sleeping quarters.

Fuzz was the same age as her, 23, and was in his second year of service. Despite the horrible conditions, Fuzz was an optimist and an all-around sweet guy. His nickname, Alan had told her once, had originally been "Peach Fuzz" due to his inability to grow a thick beard and his babyface. When he'd found her, he wasn't on active duty, so he'd sat down right next her and hugged her. A complete stranger, but he'd understood and just gave her a shoulder to cry on. Then he'd taken her to the mess tent and introduced her to his two good friends--Alan Torres and Jack Daniels.

The three of them had formed a close bond over the last two years. Friends to the end--and if Fuzz had ever been jealous that she and Alan were a bit closer than that, he'd never let on. She could have found out--she was a telepath after all--but she just didn't want to know. She'd never have read his journal without asking, and reading his thoughts was an even worse invasion. Besides, her dad had warned her about that--he'd told her that their family was special, that such abilities were to be used responsibly or they'd be a curse rather than a blessing.

Eden was shaken out of her reverie by the sudden staccato of gunfire up ahead. One of the other nurses made a sound halfway between a gasp and a shriek, a strangled noise of fear and shock. The caravan of trucks erupted into noise, shouting and gunfire and the revving of engines readying to escape the ambush. However, the truck she was in came to a sudden stop, throwing everyone to the floor. She heard a man's voice shouting, "Road's blocked! Turn around, dammit! Turn around!" The truck's engine roared, but the road was narrow, the ground wet from the constant rain.

Alan caught her gaze as she looked around wildly, wondering what was going on. Don't panic, those impossibly blue eyes said. "Everyone stay down!" he commanded, then turned to Fuzz. "I'll find out what's going on. Stay here and watch the girls." He turned back towards Eden, giving her a wink and a smile meant for only her before jumping out the back. Fuzz flashed her a nervous grin, then included the rest of the nurses in the supposedly heartening expression.

"That guy, huh? What a nut. Leaving a pretty bunch like you to go play with the gooks," Fuzz said, which elicited a few anxious chuckles from the women. The truck lurched forward again, making Eden feel like she'd left her stomach several feet behind her. Fuzz grabbed for purchase, nearly getting thrown out of the vehicle. His rifle slipped out of his hands, and Eden found herself catching it before it hit the floor of the truck.

"Jeez! Where'd that guy learn to drive? Jersey?" Fuzz hollered, and Eden knew then how scared her friend was. It seemed that he tried harder to be funny the more frightened he became. She sat up and handed the rifle back to him; suddenly, her left shoulder was on fire. No, not just on fire, like she'd been punched with fire and ice and glass and molten lead. She was lying on the floor of the truck, and the other nurses were screaming. Fuzz's round face hovered above her, pale and scared.

"Jeez, oh, jeez, Eden, are you okay? Ohmygodthere'ssomuchblood," he was saying, words tumbling out his mouth, although she found it hard to concentrate on them. "Alan! Where are you, man? Hey, aren't you guys nurses? Help her!"

I'm in shock, she thought detachedly. I think I've been shot. She struggled to sit up, but the pain flared, and she fell back, a sound somewhere between a shriek and a gasp forcing its way past her lips. One of the other women pushed Fuzz away, and began tearing the fabric away from Eden's shoulder. "Don't move, Eden," the woman said as she examined Eden's shoulder. Eden focused on her face; Laura, she thought. The new girl, the one with the boyfriend back home who ran away to Canada. Damn fine nurse, though. Couldn't be in better hands, except my own.

"Alright, Eden, looks like a clean wound. Went right through. Oh, thanks," Laura said as another woman handed her a roll of bandages. "We haven't got much that's accessible right now, so we'll have to wait until we get to Saigon to treat you right." Eden nodded, but even that small movement brought a renewal of pain. It was amazing how quickly one could grow accustomed to a certain level of pain, but any change in that level was unbearable.

"The gooks have blocked the road up ahead," a new voice was saying, "but we outgun them. The captain's going to round-up the survivors and--oh Christ, Eden, what happened?"

Alan. Eden conjured up a weak smile. Alan jumped into the truck, but Laura held him back. "I'm about to bandage her up, so stay out of my way." Alan looked mutinous, but stayed where he was.

"Whiskey," Eden croaked.

"What?" The answer came from several voices.

"Alan. Whiskey. Pour it on the wound before she bandages me." After a moment of hesitation--because it was contraband--Alan pulled out his hip flask and handed it to Laura. Eden gritted her teeth as Laura uncorked the flask and held it over the hole in her shoulder. "Do it," she whispered. Laura gave her a bundle of bandages to bite on. It hurt worse than the initial wounding. Unconsciousness was a merciful thing, and it slid over her like a blanket.

Eden woke to the realization that she was moving--or to be more accurate, was being moved. She couldn't interpret the sensations she was feeling, so she opened her eyes. Jungle flashed by. She tilted her head forward, and she saw Alan's face, lips thin with concentration. She was on some kind of stretcher, and he was carrying one end of it. She had no idea how long she'd been out.

"Alan," she said, her voice coming out as a thin whisper. But he heard anyway. Later, she'd wonder if she'd sent it mentally, or if he'd heard it some other way. She didn't know the word yet, but years in the future she'd remember this moment and think, Khef.

His eyes snapped down to her, and that schoolboy smile she adored lit up his dirty, anxious face. "Hey, beautiful. Welcome back to Hell. Hope you enjoyed the vacation." His head snapped back up. "Captain, she's awake!" His eyes returned to hers. "You need anything?"

"Water, please." Eden heard someone--the captain--call a halt, and her stretcher was lowered to the uneven jungle floor. The movement jarred her shoulder, but the pain seemed further away than it had been before. Alan was unscrewing the cap of his canteen, kneeling beside her.

"Just a little, beautiful. We're on water rations."

Between tiny sips, Eden asked, "What happened? Where are we?"

"In the jungle about 10 miles from Saigon," a new voice interjected. "Caravan got hit hard. We're what's left." A man with a captain's badge stood next to Alan. She didn't know him well; he'd been transfered to the 1019th shortly before they went mobile. The name on his fatigues was Everson. "Think you can walk, ma'am?"

She wiggled her toes. "Legs seem fine, sir."

"Good. Didn't want to leave you behind, but that stretcher's been a damned nuisance." There was an inscrutable look in the captain's brown eyes, then he turned abruptly away from her. "Ten minutes, soldiers, then we're mobile!"

"What's his problem?" Eden whispered to Alan, who had put away the canteen and was now holding her hand.

He laughed. "It's because you're a gal. He doesn't know how to act around you. The wounded guys he can deal with, but he's been acting like you're made of glass. Probably why he talked to you like he had a flagpole up his ass." Eden chuckled.

Fuzz appeared as Eden struggled to sit up. Her shoulder was bandaged securely, impeding use of her left arm. Alan helped her, gentle as though he, too, thought she were made of glass. "Hey! Eden! You've been out for hours! Wish I could have taken a nap through all that." He started to hug her, then remembered her shoulder and looked embarrassed. He settled for a sheepish grin and a soft punch to her good shoulder.

She looked around. About two dozen people were sitting or leaning against trees, taking sips from canteens or smoking. Eden saw four of the six nurses who'd been in the truck with her. She did not see Colonel Fairchild, or anyone higher in rank than Captain Everson for that matter. There'd been well over a hundred men with the 1019th.

Her horror must have shown, because the smile slid off Fuzz's face, to be replaced by a haunted look. "You're lucky, Eden," he said softly, all the joking gone. "We had to evac pretty fast, but we'd already gotten that stretcher ready for you. Things got real scary for a while." Fuzz looked at Alan and something passed between them, something that Eden couldn't share.

"We had to leave men behind," Alan said quietly, pained. "that's the other reason for the way the Captain acted around you, beautiful. We left men behind, but we brought you." His eyes, his impossibly blue eyes, told her the rest of the story. He and Fuzz, they wouldn't have left her. Not even if they'd been ordered to. She didn't think it had come to that, but she felt a sudden awful dread. It was a sadness she couldn't place, and she didn't want to.

The ten minutes passed all too quickly. The captain tried to get someone to rig a makeshift pack for Eden, so that the supplies being carried could be distributed more evenly. However, Laura quickly pointed out that there was no way Eden could bear the weight of a pack with her shoulder shot up. Eden felt his eyes bore into her back as she was helped to her feet.

She kept up, even though she regretted saying she'd be able to. It was the middle of winter, and while the temperature was far from chilly, the rain fell in heavy sheets. It dripped constantly though the canopy above, adding to the misery of the struggling band. Eden's shoulder was just as constant a misery, the pain never subsiding below a fiery throb.

Yet physical misery was secondary to the fear that they would be ambushed again. Eden found herself trying to stay close enough to her friends to easily reach out a hand to either one. But either they were very lucky or the VC was too busy to track down a small band of Americans. It took them two days to traverse the ten miles, hacking their way through dense undergrowth. By the end, Eden was concealing the shivers that racked her body. There was nothing anybody could do to bring down her fever--it would only be a hindrance.

It was only when they reached the edge of a vast swath of cleared jungle, the city of Saigon clearly visible beyond a cluster of villages, that Eden allowed herself the privilege of collapsing. She'd been leaning on Alan for at least two hours, and she felt his strong arms encircle her as she fell.

Eden woke up someplace well-lit and dry. She had vague recollections of fevered dreams, of Alan sitting by her cot, of some unknown nurse changing the sweat-and-rain-soaked bandages. It wasn't a tent, she realized, nor a cot. She was inside a building, lying on an honest-to-god bed.

As Eden was trying to shake off the grogginess, a nurse opened the door and poked her head in. The woman noticed that Eden was awake, and entered the room, closing the door behind her. Surprised, Eden noted that she was in a private room. Hospitals have those, she reminded herself. It's not all lines of cots in rows of tents.

"How are you feeling...," the nurse took a moment to check the chart hanging at the end of her bed. "Private DeWitt?"

"Better, I think. How long have I been here?"

"About a day and a half," the nurse answered after checking the chart again. "I'll get the doctor. He'll want to know you're awake." The nurse looked back over her shoulder. "You're lucky. I wish I had someone who cared enough about me to have to be ordered to leave."

As the door closed, Eden smiled. It had to be Alan. It was such a shame that they'd met here, rather than back in the States. She felt a pang of guilt. The real lucky one was the woman back home who'd spoken the "til death do us part" vows. Alan never spoke about her. Fuzz had once made a joke about a shotgun wedding, before Alan had silenced him with a poisonous glare. Eden guessed there was a kid involved, and knowing Alan, he'd never abandon his family back home. Not even for her.

Brooding over that thought, she didn't notice the door open again to admit an older man in a long white coat. "So how's our patient today?" he asked in a rich but tired voice.

"I'm not sure," she answered truthfully. "Last thing I really know, we'd reached the outskirts of the 'burbs."

"You had a high fever. Infection was starting to set in on your shoulder, but we've got that controlled. You won't be going anywhere for a while, but I've heard congratulations are in order."

"Congratulations?"

The doctor smiled widely. "You're going home. As soon as I declare you fit for traveling, you're being discharged."

"But... my tour of duty doesn't end for another six months!"

"In light of your ordeal, the Colonel has decided to send you home."

"Listen, Doctor...." she paused, looking for a name badge on the coat. There was none.

"Albrecht," he answered, a frown in his voice that had not yet manifested in his expression.

"Doctor Albrecht, I'm here because I can do some good. This may sound like a boast, but I'm one of the best nurses in my unit and my skill is wasted anywhere but here. Unlike most of the boys out there, I'm in Vietnam because I chose to come here!"

Albrecht sighed heavily. "My dear girl, I don't doubt that. In fact, I understand it better than you think. I'm a civilian. I chose this as well. But you've been through a traumatic experience, and Colonel Mayphert has decided it best to send you home."

"Then let me speak to Colonel Mayphert! I refuse to sit around while men are dying!"

"My dear, there comes a time when a woman can--"

"Don't you dare patronize me, Doctor," Eden said sharply as she struggled to sit up. "I can do just as much as any man in the army, if only the laws would let me. And since you're a civilian, I have no problem saying that I am sick of the bullshit spewed by 'this man's Army.' Like being born with a dick makes someone more worthy of defending what they believe in!"

Doctor Albrecht cleared his throat, embarrassed. "I'll send a message to Colonel Mayphert. If you need anything, Private, the nurses will be able to help you." And with that, the doctor fled the room, leaving Eden to helplessly fume.

The conversation with Colonel Mayphert didn't go any better. The Colonel was a career officer, born and bred into all the dogmas of the institution. He didn't even try to empathize with her; he merely spouted patronizing platitudes and quoted military law. Mayphert then informed her that Albrecht had declared she'd be fit for travel by the next week. Her plane was scheduled to leave in five days.

Eden didn't see much of the doctor, but her friends came to visit whenever they could. Fuzz regaled her with stories about the open air markets in Saigon, and the absolute luxury of fresh fruit. He smuggled in some kind of orange, and she delighted in the crisp, citrus scent of the rind before devouring the sweet segmented fruit within.

Alan smiled and charmed the nurses into letting him stay past visiting hours, since his duties kept him during the normal time. They spent most of their time in a painful sort of silence, unwilling to talk about her discharge, but unable to disregard it. Still, he was there every night, holding her hand until she fell asleep.

Her last full day in Vietnam, she finally felt strong enough to walk around the hospital. She and Alan strolled the halls, she leaning more than little on him for support. There was a small, semi-secluded courtyard not too far from her room. They sat in the humid darkness, looking at a miraculously clear sky.

"Eden," Alan began, but his voice faltered. She moved so that she could look him in the eye. She could feel the uncertainty and pain pouring off him in waves.

"What is it?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper. He licked his lips nervously, staring at her. "Come on, you know you can talk to me. After everything we've been through?"

To her complete shock, she noticed a glimmering of tears in his eyes. Alan Torres was no macho jerk, but he was a man in a world that taught men not to cry. He took her hands in his.

"Eden, you know I'm married, right?" She could only nod. "Her name's Mary, and I can't stand her. But I thought I loved her once, and I got her pregnant. My kid... he's a real spark. I can't leave him, no matter how much I hate his mom. But Eden... I'll never forget you." He clutched her to him.

"Alan, I--"

"No, wait. I'm not not done," he murmured into her hair. "Eden, you and Fuzz are my best friends. But I'd leave Fuzz in an instant if it meant getting you someplace safe. I hate that you're leaving," he said, and something suspiciously like sob escaped his lips, "but I know you're getting away from this madness."

He pulled back and looked her straight in the eyes. " I wish things were different, but they aren't, and we have to play the cards God dealt us."

"Alan--"

"Eden, I love you."

The admission stopped her dead. She'd never let herself realize that his feelings ran so deep. Nor that her own matched them. It just figured that it took her leaving to bring all this out in open.

He walked her back to her room, where they made love--quietly-- for one last time. When he left, he kissed her softly on the forehead.

"Love you, beautiful."

"I love you, too," she whispered as he left.

Her plane left early the next morning. Although she could walk, she was brought to the airstrip in a wheelchair. It seemed that the world was conspiring to make her feel as frail as everyone but her friends assumed her to be. She had no luggage--all her belongings had been left back at the ambush site. The Viet Cong had evidently looted the trucks, for the force sent out to investigate had come back with nothing but bodies.

The Army had temporary barracks she could stay in until she'd arranged for a job and place of her own. Most of what she'd owned before joining the army was in a storage locker she sent a check to every six months. Most of her family was dead, and her college friends had refused to speak to her after learning she was going to support the "evils of war." Her future was uncertain, and her heart was breaking.

Her wheelchair stopped unexpectedly after she was wheeled out of Processing, and she turned to ask what was wrong. Fuzz's round face grinned down at her. "You oughta see the look on your face! Bet ya thought we weren't comin' to say good-bye!"

"Thank you, Fuzz."

"Aw, it's nothing. It's not like I'm doing anything important right now. I doubt they'll miss me at the mess hall."

"No, seriously. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't found that night. You know, when we first met?"

"Yeah, I remember. You were a mess. You know your face turns all red and blotchy when you cry, right?"

"Jerk," she said, but she was grinning. "I'm gonna miss you so much, Fuzz."

"Promise you'll write?"

"Pinky promise, I will," she said, laughing as she extended her pinky finger. He hooked it with his own, a look of satisfaction on his face.

"Now you have to, or your pinky will fall off." He became serious. "Jeez, Eden, I'm really gonna miss you. It won't be the same without you. Alan and I are getting transfered to different units, since the 1019th is pretty much toast. It's just just never gonna be the same," Fuzz said sadly, shaking his head.

"I know, Fuzz." Eden took his hand and smiled. "But maybe it'll get better."

His face lit up. "It just might. Maybe I can get a cushy desk job here in Saigon. Be a company clerk or something! Then when my term's up, I'll come and find you!"

"You do that. I'm thinking of heading to New York."

"New York. You don't set your sights low, do you, beautiful?" Alan's voice hid the pain, but Eden knew it was there.

"Never did, Alan. Only the best for me." She saw the slight smile and knew he understood she'd meant him. He'd been standing off to one side, waiting for Fuzz to finish his good-bye. Although the day was blessedly clear and the temperature mild, he had his fatigue jacket with him. It was clean, but obviously patched and well-worn.

"It'll be cold as hell back home," he said softly as leaned down and slipped the jacket over her shoulders. Even after being laundered, it smelled like him. Regulations be damned, Eden thought, and stood up. Ignoring the sudden sharp pain in her shoulder, she wrapped her arms around Alan and gave him a long, passionate kiss good-bye. When it ended, she became aware of several of the soldiers standing around applauding. Fuzz had a look on his face that said, "Oh those crazy kids."

"Don't you ever forget this, Alan. Not everybody gets what we've had, and we had to fight for every minute of it," she said fiercely, so softly only he could hear her.

"Eden, forgetting you would be like forgetting to breathe." He also spoke for her ears alone.

Alan pushed her the rest of the way to her plane, insisting on carrying her to her seat and sitting next to her while she strapped herself in. It was strange, she thought, realizing that Alan was the only person she ever would have put up with such overprotective nonsense from. Probably because he didn't mean to smother her. He just wanted to there, up until the end. They got one last kiss before the aircraft crew politely, but firmly, asked him to leave.

She didn't cry. Her heart was breaking, but the tears would not come. A part of her life had just ended, and she knew that she'd lost something she could never recapture. She didn't have the words to explain it, not even to herself. She could only turn her face to the uncertain future, and hope that she'd told Fuzz the truth. Maybe it would get better.