I awoke in bits and pieces. I blinked my eyes up at the ceiling, which was made of some strange greenish plaster, with light bulbs swinging slightly from wires hanging vertically down. I realized, hazily, that I was in some sort of hard-roofed tent. I tried to move my head but something was holding it down. I raised my right hand with difficulty, as I.V. tubes were heavily taped to most of my arm. I felt my neck. An I.V. was attached under the side of my jaw.

A man’s face appeared from my left side, centering itself over my own, about four inches from me. I wanted to back up or sink lower in the slanted bed but I could not move at all.

“Surgery went well but it’s going to be a long hard road from here,” the man said, his brown eyes remaining steady and unblinking.

“Doctor?” I managed to get out.

“Hardly,” the face said. “I’m your corpsman, your orderly, letter-writer, bathroom assistant, and plenty more.”

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