Waiting is the Hardest Part

A woman waits for a returning Sailor.

Waiting is the Hardest Part

         Lydia stood anxiously waiting for the military aircraft carrying David to land. It seemed like she'd stood in this very spot at least a thousand times, braced in anticipation, but it never got easier. In fact, this time it was far, far worse!

         God! She thought. Would he ever get here?

         She took off her sunglasses to wipe the sweat from her brow, but it was only out of habit. Sweat didn't evaporate slowly here like it did in the humid Georgia summers. Instead it seemed to boil and steam off her skin just as it was forming. She impatiently scanned the sky, searching for the inbound aircraft, but the only thing breaking up the deep blue was the glaring, brutal sun. The heat, like the wait, was insufferable.

         Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a new girl, watching the sky intently as well, until a veteran in this horrid "Wait-and-See" play approached her. This scene always brought Lydia back to her acting days another lifetime ago. Everyone had a role to play, the old hand, the tentative newcomer, and yes, even the absent minded extra played by Lydia this time. She normally preferred a more active role, but today, she was too preoccupied with David's arrival, not sure what kind of shape he would be in.

         Wait! Her thoughts screeched to a halt. She strained to make out the formless black dot in the distance. She couldn't quite make it out, but it was moving in her direction. Maybe this was it!

         She would be so relieved when he was on the ground, and she could see for herself what damage had been done on this last trip. Waiting, though, was the worst part. It was the hardest role she'd ever played.

         His role wasn't easy either, she knew. He served as a United States Navy Corpsman. She remembered years ago trying to tell her own mother what a Corpsman was. It was a unique job in the Navy that trained Sailors to follow other Sailors and Marines into harms way. They were there; ready to step into battle, to save the lives of those who'd fallen. Of course her mother stopped listening after the word "battle," so Lydia doubted if she actually knew what a Corpsman really did, or the extent they would go to in order to save a life.

         The intercom on the side of the building boomed to life, announcing the flight would land in ten minutes. Just ten more minutes Lydia thought!

         That was the signal everyone had been waiting for, and suddenly there was a rush of activity, setting up for the next scene. At the cue, the actors quickly took their rehearsed place, poised, and waited for action.

         And action was coming.

         Lydia could now clearly make out the shape of the helicopter. She put on her helmet and jammed her brown braid hard inside. Then she removed her sunglasses once again, this time tucking them safety in her camouflage cargo pocket. They would be no match against the storm of desert sand the helo would spit in her face. When her goggles were firmly snapped in place, Lydia knelt on the hard pavement at the edge of the helo flight pad, in position with the rest of her team, waiting for the next stage cue.

         Usually while she crouched and waited, Lydia practiced flight safety in her head; this wasn't a place for screwing up. Keep your head down, get straight to the helo, grab the patient, and move to Trauma Bay One, she would recite, over and over again. She wanted to get her lines right.

         This time, though, she was too worried, so she used the next few moments praying for the inbound wounded instead.

         The morning had started off like most with a request for a routine helicopter evacuation of a wounded Marine. But what had been a safe pick-up site for the helo this morning had turned to a hot one! Shots were fired as they were loading up the wounded Marine! The pilot reported David was hit! Now they would need two trauma bays ready to receive casualties.

         Why did it have to be David? He had so much potential as a Sailor, and so much life to live as a young man. Lydia tried not to blame herself. It was her job to fairly give out the assignments each day. It could have been any of her Corpsman.

         Now on the helicopter pad, the waiting, along with the whirling sand, was choking her. Then the next cue came, and she was moving toward the wounded. Keep your head down, she mentally recited. Straight to the helo. Grab the patient. Trauma Bay One.

         Once they got David in the ER, doctors and nurses took over, and pushed her to the back of the stage. As they searched methodically for wounds, Lydia searched frantically, growing annoyed with her limited view. Like a mother checking her newborn for fingers and toes, she searched for signs David was alright. How big was the exit wound? She couldn't see! And blood loss? But before she could get any answers, David was rushed to the operating room.

         Lydia knew it would be hours yet before she would know any more. So outside the OR doors, she took off her goggles and wiped at her tears. Next she removed the helmet. Her braid came lose, but she didn't bother to fix it. She'd wait as long as it took. Waiting seemed to be her role to play on this God-awful day.

         And it really was the hardest part.

Tina B

Word count: 945