Bright Sword: The Flowers of War

Chapter 211 Visitation
While Doolittle and his pilots were battling through the skies, Hoddle was enjoying a rare moment of peace in a field hospital in Wutai County, far behind the front lines.

The ward was filled with the faint smell of disinfectant. Sunlight streamed through the wooden lattice windows covered with paper, falling on Hoddle's bed covered with a clean white sheet, bringing a touch of warmth.

He leaned against the headboard, his back against the soft pillows, holding an enamel bowl filled with steaming lean meat porridge and a small dish of pickled vegetables.

These days, Hoddle's mood can be described as more relaxed than ever before.

Since being admitted to this field hospital run by the Shanxi militia, and under the meticulous care of a young female doctor named Song Mei, he began receiving injections of a magical drug called "Penicillin." His severe pneumonia, which had long tormented him, causing him sleepless nights and difficulty breathing, began to improve at a visible speed.

This morning during rounds, the slender and beautiful female doctor told him some good news.

"Mr. Hoddle, your lung infection has been effectively controlled and your body temperature has returned to normal."

While carefully listening to his lungs with a stethoscope, Song Mei said in fluent English, "Judging from the X-ray, the inflammation is also subsiding. If everything goes smoothly, after about ten more days of consolidation treatment, your treatment will be over. At that time, with more rest, you will be able to return to the army soon."

"Returning to the army." These four words are undoubtedly the greatest blessing for a soldier who longs for battle.

Hoddle was overjoyed and thanked her repeatedly. He even wanted to give the Chinese female doctor who had saved his life a warm hug, but when he thought about the identity of the beautiful and charming female doctor in front of him, he immediately calmed down.

He had no doubt that if he dared to do anything outrageous to the doctor, his boss would cut off his own testicles without hesitation.

At that moment, he sipped his porridge, savoring Dr. Song Mei's words, and was so happy he almost hummed a song.

He even started planning that once he recovered, he would definitely try to persuade his boss to open a soldiers' club next to the armored unit's base. Why should those bastards like Jack and Tom be able to have fun in the pilots' club, while they, the armored soldiers, had to live miserably in tents without any entertainment?

However, just as he was figuring out how to persuade his boss, a series of shrill, chilling alarm sounds came from the direction of the airport in the distance, like ghosts! The sound was so familiar that it instantly sent shivers down the spine of this seasoned veteran!

"Air raid! It's an air raid siren!" Hoddle immediately jumped out of bed, wanting to rush out and see what was happening. But soon, nurses came in to reassure the patients, telling them not to panic, that the hospital had air raid shelters, and that the target of the air raid was the airport, not the hospital.

Despite being ignored and calmed down, Hoddle could still clearly hear the distant, faint yet terrifying explosions, as well as the distinctive, tearing shriek of aircraft engines!

"Damn it, those damn Japanese bastards!" Hoddle cursed fiercely.

Although he really wanted to go out and help, reason prevailed over impulse.

He knew very well that, given his current physical condition, going there would only cause trouble.

For the entire afternoon, he listened intently to every subtle sound coming from afar, until the all-clear was given and the sky returned to calm. But his anxiety did not diminish in the slightest.

"Boom boom boom——"

As evening approached, a soft knock on the door interrupted Hoddle's thoughts.

“Please come in!” Hoddle responded.

The door to the ward was pushed open, and two familiar figures walked in—it was Forl and John.

Fur's uniform still carried the distinctive smell of oil stains typical of armored soldiers, and his face showed signs of fatigue, but his eyes gleamed with undisguised excitement.

John was relatively cleaner, but a look of worry was still visible between his brows.

"Hey! Hoddle! You look great!" Foll greeted him casually as he walked in, tossing a pack of cigarettes to Hoddle.

"Fell! John! What brings you here?" Hoddle sat up straight with delight, taking the cigarette. "Please sit down! Please sit down!"

"Let me see how your recovery is going," John said with a smile, pulling up a chair and sitting down. "And... I'll tell you something."

Hoddle looked at their expressions and his heart skipped a beat. A sense of foreboding washed over him. "Was it... the air raid today... how was it? Are the guys all alright?"

Fell and John exchanged a glance. Fell sighed, and the excitement on his face faded considerably.

“Hodl, don’t worry, things aren’t as you think.” Fol patted him on the shoulder. “At noon today, the Japanese went crazy and sent at least thirty or forty planes to bomb the Nine Bend River!”

Shit... those Japanese monkeys are like madmen, they dispatched dozens of fighter jets, trying to blow up our airport.

Fortunately, Doolittle and Jack were very effective; they not only drove them out but also shot down more than twenty of their planes.

Fol began to describe to Hoddle the thrilling air battle of the previous day with great enthusiasm.

He recounted how the P-47 formation, led by Doolittle, took off in an emergency, how they used BZ tactics to catch the Japanese off guard, how One-Eyed Jack and Tom fought a desperate battle with Japanese ace pilots, and how the sky was covered by artillery fire and wreckage...

Hoddle was also terrified, and fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

Although he wasn't a pilot, he could fully imagine the ferocity of the air battle from Furna's vivid description!

"...In the end, we took down more than twenty of their planes! Hahaha...that was awesome!" Fell said, getting excited again and waving his fist. "However...we also lost four 'Thunderbolts'...Tom and Jack were also slightly injured."

…………

Meanwhile, in the simple medical room at Jiuquhe Airport, the air was also filled with a strong smell of disinfectant and blood, but the atmosphere was completely different from the relatively calm atmosphere in Hoddle's ward.

"Ouch... Gently! Gently! Susan! Damn it, this is flesh, not some fucking airplane skin! It'll hurt!!"
"Couldn't you have given me anesthesia before stitching me up?"

Exaggerated and slightly comical cries of pain came from Tom, who was sitting shirtless and grimacing in a wooden chair.

On his bronze arm, covered with tiny scars and defined muscles, a wound about three or four inches long, with the skin turned outwards and still slightly bleeding, looked particularly gruesome under the bright light.

This wound was inflicted today during the air battle with Colonel Tetsuji Iga, when shrapnel from a machine gun bullet pierced the cockpit canopy.

Standing next to Tom, holding a curved needle already threaded with medical sutures and a hemostat, was the field nurse named Susan.

Susan, in her early twenties, wore a white nurse's uniform. Her short blonde hair was neatly tied back, revealing her smooth forehead and a pair of calm and focused blue eyes.

Her features weren't exceptionally beautiful, but together they exuded a sense of heroism and competence. At this moment, she was slightly frowning, ignoring Tom's pig-like screams, but her hands didn't stop moving at all, skillfully and precisely cleaning and suturing the wound.

"Shut up, Tom! If you keep yelling like a girl, I'll sew your mouth shut!" Susan snapped without looking up, her voice icy, but her hands remained steady as she threaded the needle. Her fingers moved deftly, each puncture and each pull of the thread precise and decisive—clearly the work of an experienced nurse.

Tom deflated like a punctured balloon after Susan's merciless rebuke, his voice trailing off as he could only manage suppressed hissing breaths.

He didn't even dare to look at Susan's pretty face, which now looked somewhat "fierce," nor did he dare to look at the gruesome stitches on his arm. He could only close his eyes tightly and turn his head to the other side, as if that would alleviate some of the pain.

It's not that Tom is timid or afraid of pain.

As a pilot who had the courage to venture to a foreign land to seek his fortune, he had long since become indifferent to life and death. A few broken bones or being grazed by bullets were commonplace for him.

The problem is, the sight of a young girl threading needles through my skin is just too... too damn weird and creepy! Especially without anesthesia (or rather, the airport medical room has a very limited supply of anesthesia, and they usually don't use it on such "minor injuries").

The distinct tactile sensation of a needle piercing the skin, penetrating the muscle, and the sutures being pulled through the flesh, along with Susan's face so close to his, her expression so focused it was almost cold, sent a chill down Tom's spine.

He would rather fight the Japanese "Hayabusa" fighter jets for another three hundred rounds than endure this "gentle" torture for even a second longer!

"Hiss... Susan... I mean... did you learn this skill from your grandma who sews patches?" Tom tried to ease his tension and pain with a joke, but his voice was distorted because he was trying to suppress the pain.

Susan ignored his banter, and after finishing the stitch, she clamped the suture with hemostats and then cut the thread with a small pair of scissors with a clean and efficient motion.

"Alright, stop joking. Just bear with it, it'll be over soon."

Susan finally spoke, her voice still cold, but upon closer listening, it seemed a little softer than before, "This cut isn't deep, but it's a bit long, and the edges aren't neat. If it's not stitched properly, it's prone to infection, and then you'll have to stay in a field hospital with Hoddle for a few months."

Upon hearing "Hodr" and "field hospital," Tom immediately felt a chill.

He'd heard that Hoddle had almost died of pneumonia and had come to China for treatment. He didn't want to go and keep Hoddle company because of this minor injury; if he caught it from him, he'd have no one to blame but himself.

"No...no...I don't want to go to that awful place," Tom said quickly, his voice softening. "Susan...please, Susan...be gentle...I promise I won't scream..."

Susan's lips seemed to curl slightly upwards, but she quickly regained her composure. She picked up a cotton ball soaked in rubbing alcohol and carefully wiped the blood around the stitched wound. The cold, tingling sensation made Tom grimace again.

Just as Susan skillfully finished tying the last surgical knot, carefully cleaned the slightly swollen and red wound on Tom's arm with an alcohol-soaked cotton ball, and was about to bandage it with gauze, the simple wooden door of the infirmary creaked open again.

A blonde young woman, also dressed in a nurse's uniform but with a small medicine bottle badge pinned to her chest, appearing more demure and refined, came running in, carrying a heavy wooden box about half her height, slightly out of breath. Fine beads of sweat glistened on her nose, a few strands of her blonde hair clung to her cheeks, and her chest rose and fell slightly from her hurried running, her full curves faintly visible beneath the somewhat thin nurse's uniform.

“Hey… Susan! Huff… huff…” The pharmacist named Margaret placed the wooden box bearing the Red Cross and some English letters on the floor in the center of the infirmary with a thud, then, supporting herself on her knees, gasped for breath and said intermittently:
"This...this is the boss...just sent from the county town...the latest batch of disinfectant and...and anesthetic! I...I'll put it here for now, remember to check it later."

As Margaret spoke, she wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, then straightened up and gave a slightly apologetic smile: "I'm sorry, Susan, we were delayed on the way. The medicine delivery truck broke down on the way, and we had to hire porters to carry these precious things back."

Upon hearing this, Susan nodded and said, "Thank you for your hard work, Margaret. These things have arrived at just the right time. Before we came, I thought that the medicine we brought would be used up little by little and difficult to replenish. I didn't expect the boss to be so thoughtful." As she spoke, she walked over and opened the clasp of the wooden box.

"Wow--"

As the box was opened, a box full of various colored liquid medicines in glass bottles, rolls of bandages, and some small metal instruments wrapped in oil paper were immediately displayed in front of everyone.

Among them, the most eye-catching were several rows of neatly arranged ampoules labeled "Morphine" or "Novocain" (a local anesthetic).

Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the crystal-clear glass bottles and reflecting dappled light. In Tom's eyes, which were somewhat dazed from pain, these normally unremarkable medicine bottles seemed to radiate a sacred glow!
Anesthetic!
And it was a whole big box!

Tom's eyes, which had been somewhat dazed from the pain, widened instantly when he saw the familiar anesthetic drug labels in the box, as if he had seen a ghost! He blinked incredulously for a moment, then abruptly turned his head and stared intently at Susan, who was about to pick up gauze and tape to bandage his wounds.

He got it!

He understood it completely!

This woman, who looks quiet and gentle but is incredibly ruthless... she did it on purpose!

She must have known all along that the batch of anesthetic was about to arrive, but she still insisted on stitching his arm up with countless holes before then, without using any anesthesia!
This is nothing short of naked revenge! It's torture! It's a merciless destruction of him, a hero who has just returned from a bloody battle with the enemy in the blue sky!

An indescribable sense of grief and humiliation erupted from Tom's chest like a volcanic eruption!

"Shet..."

A scream more piercing, more desperate, and more filled with blood and tears than any before suddenly burst from Tom's mouth, echoing throughout the entire infirmary. Even the ground crew passing by outside were startled and turned to look.

“Su...Shan...you...you devil!! You cold-blooded...heartless...sadist!!” Tom pointed at Susan, his voice becoming shrill and hoarse with extreme anger and grievance, and tears welling up in his eyes. “You knew there was anesthesia! You knew! But you...you...Aww...my arm...my flesh…”

He howled as he covered his arm, which had just been "ravaged," with his uninjured hand.

Susan was startled by Tom's sudden outburst. She looked at Tom in surprise, then glanced at the box full of medicines on the ground, especially the conspicuous bottles of anesthetics, and her lips twitched involuntarily.

A rare hint of... well... guilt seemed to flash across her calm face.
“Ahem…” Susan cleared her throat, trying to put on a stern face, but her eyes darted around, not daring to meet Tom’s “accusing” gaze. “Tom… you need to know that anesthetic drugs are very precious strategic resources and cannot be wasted casually.”

Your little injury... well... it's not exactly minor... but it's just a superficial wound, you'll bear it. Besides, a little pain will help you stay alert, remember the lessons learned from this fight, and won't be so careless next time.”

These words were spoken with righteous indignation and high moral character, but to Tom, they were nothing short of adding fuel to the fire!

"Appropriate pain?!"

"Helps stay awake?!"

"Remember the lesson?!"

He was so angry!
"Holy shit... I... I'll fight you to the death!!" Tom suddenly stood up from his chair, roaring as he tried to pounce on Susan, but as soon as he moved, a piercing pain shot through the fresh wound on his arm, causing him to cry out and fall back into the chair, tears welling up in his eyes from the pain.

Margaret, who was standing to the side, was initially confused by the dramatic scene before her, but she quickly came to her senses. Seeing Susan's slightly unnatural expression and Tom's grief-stricken look, she couldn't help but burst out laughing.

But she quickly realized the situation was inappropriate, so she covered her mouth and tried hard to suppress her laughter, but her shoulders were trembling, clearly she was having a hard time holding it in.

Susan glared at Margaret, who was trying not to laugh, then took a deep breath, regained her composure, walked up to Tom, looked down at him, and said in an unquestionable tone:
"Alright, stop howling! The wound has been stitched up and now it needs bandaging. If you move around again and cause the wound to reopen or get infected, then you'll really be going to a field hospital to keep Hoddle company. At that point, forget about anesthesia, even if you want me to stitch you up, I won't have time!"

(End of this chapter)