Battle wounded were never quite as TV and books made them out to be, it was impossible in any format to document the whole experience, the sight, smell, feel, sound and even the taste in the back of the throat –Death, was an all-round sensory experience, something that was all the more real for Mere when she had to get down on her knees and bury herself into the still warm body of a survivor.
Of course the cracking wise of a certain Sgt Mjr, meant that the otherwise potentially horrific scene, which Mere was in equal parts revulsion, and acceptance that she was ok with it, was made a little surreal as if she was part of some 70’s battlefield sitcom.
She knew a little of their language, enough time in the field would grant you the basics, and it was more likely their party line of never surrendering, than a quip about his lineage, but Mere wasn’t going to ruin the levity of the situation, not when it would pop them right back into grisly reality.
Tourniquet tied tightly above the worst bleeder, Mere was putting a little more than required pressure on another point, hoping to illicit an answer and get some pay back for the blood that had been spilt, when Taft seemed to switch focus.
Hand still pressed to the Jaffa’s thigh pressing down hard on a gauze pad, Mere watched him stalk off towards the stockades where the others were playing musical statues.
A five count sounded in her head, Mere shuffled back from the prone Jaffa and stood upright, unclipping her weapon and bringing it into battle ready position. Pointing at their fallen quarry, Mere assessed how far he was likely to make it on the leg, and felt safe leaving him.
“Don’t move, or you will bleed to death” Her med kit was half open, and grabbing it one handed she shoved it into the ruck sack that lay a foot or so away, before swinging it up onto her shoulder, switching hands to ensure that both straps were in place before following her commanding officers steps.
Even with her short strides, it didn’t talk long to catch up to Taft’s position, due both in part to the small distance covering the stockade and the make shift medic post, and that fact that the SgtMjr was in stalking lion mode, and seemed to be keeping his distance from the point of enquiry.
“Rope them up and lead them home. Contrary to the accent I suck at Rodeo, so on your lead” Smirking Mere took stepped round to the side, hoping to get a better glance of whatever had caught Taft’s attention.
"You'll shoot him, I'll save him, they'll question him and everyone goes home happy"