Well folks, here's the next part of Doggos. I hope y'all enjoy this. Though don't worry about the series staying dark, it
will get a bit more lighthearted. But only
after this current arc closes off and the next one starts~
An Office and his Dogs Part 7b: The Toll of War
[=]
Ten minutes, it had been ten minutes since the last time Lieutenant William Corgi had spoken with Nachi over the radio. Ten minutes since he had told them good hunting, ten minutes he had been waiting in silence. He couldn't take just sitting there and doing nothing anymore.
So William stood up and went to help Clayton check a few squad automatic weapons and bring out boxes of ammo for them from Storage. After the last of the weapons were checked and loaded, the Gunnery sergeant had left the building to go prepare spots for weapon emplacements.
Ensigns Crawford and Jones had returned to the PT Barracks and he wasted no time with putting them to work. Crawford was doing constant updates on rolling map board. Jones meanwhile was aiding Ellen and Sanderson with the preparations to receive wounded.
For all of her antics, PFC Lisa Ellen was nothing but the utmost professional when it came to what her primary job is in his unit. William had seen her carefully packing one of the large rucksacks with nothing but medical equipment and supplies.
When he had asked her about it, she told him that it was in case the situation became such that if they were forced to evacuate. She'd at least be able to treat any of the wounded dogs that they took with them. He wasn't sure whether to be happy to see her have that kind of foresight or nervous because of the implications of it.
Unable to figure out what exactly to feel regarding that, William went outside to check up on Clayton, who he found had taken the backpack radio out of the equipment building and attached the extended range antenna to it. Currently, he saw that the Gunnery Sergeant was helping Sandbar and Banks with setting up sandbag walls and a Machine gun emplacement.
"You need a hand there Gunny?"
"Yeah Lieutenant, we could use some more bags out here. There should be a crate of empty ones in the first floor supply closet, second shelf on the right."
"Got it, I'll be right back." William said as he turned back and walked back into the PT barracks. William made the split-second decision to go check up with Desmond before he got the sandbags from the supply closet. However just as he walked up to the marine, he heard Nachi's voice crackle over the radio on PT boat Frequency.
"Dog-actual, this is Nachi, Enemy minelayer confirmed sunk! Currently engaged with hostile PT boats!"
He could
hear the sounds of a fight going on the background. Angry barks and the wall of noise made when the PT Corgi's opened fired with all available weapons. The Lance Corporal handed him the microphone without being even asked to do so. William wasted no time in keying the mic and giving a response.
"Understood, Nachi! Don't let them tear up the dogs!" He said into the microphone, his free hand balled up into a fist. If any of the dogs in Squadron 5 carrying the barrels of extra fuel were hit… '
No. Don't go there. Don't think that goddammit. Just be glad that one of those bastard minelayers got sent to the bottom.' He internally reprimanded himself for thinking the worst, instead of being relieved that one of the abyssal minelayers was out of the picture now.
The Lieutenant handed the microphone back to Desmond and then marched off to retrieve the empty sandbags. Dark thoughts started to bubble up in his mind. He forcibly pushed those thoughts back down and focused on the tasks that needed to be done. He needed to keep himself busy.
"Yeah, that's what I need to do. Just gotta keep myself busy." William quietly said to himself as he located the small crate of empty sandbags, he also spotted a spare shovel next to it. He took both the crate and a spare shovel before heading back out of the building.
When William returned to Clayton, he got started on helping his XO set up defenses.
[=]
William wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand after he placed the last sandbag down for a Mortar emplacement. Despite how fit he was; the pace Clayton's marines went at when digging fox holes was exhausting. Throw in carrying and then setting up the emplacements that went into each fox hole and William felt more than a tad bit sore.
However before he was about to go grab the Mortar and its munitions, William felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked to his side and saw Clayton looking at him with a Stony expression.
"William, Dogs from Squadron 5 is saying that Nachi's Approaching PT-41 now." Spoke the rough-edged voice of Gunnery Sergeant Clayton as he held out the handset of the backpack radio for his CO and Lifelong friend to take.
William took the Handset from Clayton and brought it to his ear with a mechanical motion. He hadn't manned Radio since his last conversation with Nachi a little less than two hours ago. When she had radioed in that one of the minelayers had been sunk and that his PT boats were engaged with Enemy PT boats.
Since then, with Desmond busy communicating with Port Fourchon and the PT Corgis that were sortied out on patrol, other than Squadron 5 who were currently with Nachi's group. William had opted to help his subordinates with preparations to pass the time, at least until word came in that Nachi's group had made contact with Squadron 3. If for nothing else then to steady his nerves, he couldn't just sit around and do nothing but wait.
William wouldn't lie and say he was feeling entirely calm at the moment, he felt like a ball of gasoline soaked nerves. Especially after three members of Squadron 5 had to turn back and return to base due to combat injuries. They were sitting in the repair baths after being treated by Ellen and Sanderson. The Lieutenant steeled himself as he heard the radio crackle to life.
"Dog-actual, This is Nachi. Hostile forces have been sunk or routed, but I have a severely-damaged PT boat in hand, and am requesting a location to drop it off for repairs. How copy?" Came the collected tone of Nachi's voice over the radio.
"Solid Copy Nachi. Proceed to NSA JRB New Orleans at best possible speed. Nachi Be advised. Remaining members of Squadron 5 are carrying extra damage control supplies to assist stabilizing the wounded..." He briefly paused as a small lump formed in his throat before he swallowed it down "until they have returned to base for repairs proper. Dog-Actual out."
Releasing the transmission button and handing the handset back to Clayton. William looked around to his Staff with a stony but determined expression. "Ellen, Banks, Sanderson, Sandbar stow your gear and pack whatever you need. You're taking the Ambulance Humvees to the Naval Air Station. That's where Nachi's taking the wounded."
He watched as the people he called out stopped what they had been doing prior, gave him a quick affirmative before they got ready for departure. Sanderson and Ellen were packing up the medical supplies they had laid out on a folding table for triage. Sandbar and Banks stuck their shovels in the ground and hauled themselves out of the fox hole they were digging.
William looked at his watch to check the time before he looked at his XO. "Clayton, you get the rest of the Day PT Corgis ready for sortie, Night patrols are already heading back to base now. Can you hold the fort down while I get 41 and the others?" He asked his friend. He had lingering uncertainty of heading down with the medical group.
Clayton gave a small smile before he reached out and gave William's shoulder a firm Squeeze. "When have I ever let you down Sir?"
"You never have."
"Then I and everyone else here have things handled." Clayton said before leaning in closer to William with a serious expression on his face "You go ahead and meet them there William. You and I both know those dogs are gonna be scared for their Sister's life. And we
both know that between you and me, they always calm down a lot quicker with you. They do consider ya to be a dad to them after all."
After a few moments' thought at the words given to him by his XO, William closed his eyes briefly and nodded. When he opened them again, he made his way to one of the Ambulance Humvees and got into the back. He saw Ellen in the back, checking over her supplies again. It took William a second to realize it, but he noticed that Ellen had grabbed the rucksack she had prepared earlier.
"Sergeant Banks, Get this Humvee moving." William spoke with an intensity he had seldom used since those early days. The appointed OPS officer's response was to floor the gas. William was prepared for it and so he didn't get thrown. Ellen was prepared for it as well, for when he looked over to her to check on her, she was continuing on with rechecking her rucksack like nothing had happened.
There was a brief pause as Banks stopped at the base gate and informed the Guards of the situation and what he was doing. And then they were off again, though not as quickly as before. Until at least Banks got clear of the crowded city streets. Then Banks floored the gas like his life depended on it.
"Does Sergeant Banks always have this much of a lead foot Lieutenant?" Ellen asked her CO as she felt the Humvee continuing to accelerate. Lisa felt a pull act on her as the Sergeant did a turn at speed. She was scared of the Humvee flipping over but she didn't show it since she was far too busy making sure everything she had brought with her wasn't sent flying around in the back. She looked at the Lieutenant and saw that he had a somewhat apologetic expression on his face.
"Yeah, He was Bradley driver in Afghanistan before he made Sergeant. And before that, he was an amateur race driver. Only time I had ever seen him drive normally was when his girlfriend was in the car with him." The Lieutenant said as the acceleration leveled off.
"Banks has a Girlfriend?" Ellen spoke with clear surprise in her voice.
"He
had one."
"What happened to her?"
"She didn't like dogs." William said flatly to Ellen as Banks feathered the breaks before making another turn.
"Rachael was a kind of a bitch anyways. I was just too dumb to have really noticed it until I got assigned to this unit. The Dogs made her show her true colors. Honestly, I'm better off without her anyways." Banks shouted over the roar of the Humvee's engine. After a moment of silence, William thought he heard something over the Humvee's Radio.
"Lieutenant that was Clayton on the radio just now, he said that he contacted the personnel of the Air station. So they know we're coming in hot and they've got the road cleared for us. Clayton also spoke to Nachi, told her that we'd meet her at the Port Ship Belle Chase Pier." Banks hollered as the Humvee slowed down a fair bit as the Sergeant made a one more, rather sharp turn.
William nodded and then tried to listen in as he heard the radio in the cab crackled to life. However he was only able to make out half of what was said and even then he wasn't entirely sure if he had heard it correctly. "Sergeant Banks who was that on the radio just now, I couldn't quite make out what they said."
"That was the Naval Air Station commander; he said he's sending some engineers out to the drop off point with a floating dock so you can get the dogs. Okay we're on the last straightaway; we're roughly three minutes out from the drop off point." Banks shouted as he put the pedal to the metal and sent the Humvee roaring down State highway 23.
The remainder of the ride was a short one, and then came the waiting. Unlike before, there was nothing here for William to do but sit and wait. And so, he waited, first in the Humvee, and then out on the floating dock once the engineers had arrived and set it up before departing once more.
[=]
William checked his watch, it was almost 0600. Despite the chill of the late December air, he was sweating from the almost maddening anticipation and dread he currently felt. He didn't know exactly how bad PT-41 and the other wounded dogs were and he felt doubt starting to creep up within him. Doubt about whether if they'd be able to save PT-41 or if she'd just pass away before they could get her to the repair docks.
William knew he wasn't alone on the floating dock, Sandbar and Banks were right behind him, ready to help get the wounded out of the water. While Ellen and Sanderson were back at the Humvees, ready to start surgery as soon as the wounded got to them. However, he still
felt like he was standing there all by himself. Squeezing his eyes shut for a moment and biting the inside of his left cheek hard enough to draw blood, he managed to dispel the thoughts from his mind.
Not a moment too soon either, for he saw a group of PT Corgis come into view from around the river bend, he recognized that it was Squadron 5, or least part of it. He could see the dogs were scouting ahead, whether if it was from instinct or perhaps they were looking for him specifically. He wasn't sure. When the lead dog of Squadron 5 came close to the floating dock; she looked back behind her and started barking for a few moments before coming right up to the Lieutenant.
William looked down at the PT Corgi and spoke softly. "Hey, can you tell the others that those who've got engine or propeller damage to hop up onto the docks. We've only got two ambulances with us. We'll meet the rest of ya at the repair docks. Okay?" William said to the PT Corgi with some strain in his voice. There was only so much weight those ambulance Humvees could take before something in the suspension broke.
The PT Corgi looked at William and gave him an affirmative bark. William looked up from the PT Corgi as she sped off to tell her sisters and it was then that he saw Nachi come into view from around the river bend. For a brief fleeting moment, he saw the ship instead of the girl. In that moment he saw her damage and while it made him wince. What made him take in a sharp breath was the brief flash of PT-41 he saw as well, resting on Nachi's deck just forward of her main battery. Even from the brief flash he saw, he realized that PT-41 was in
bad shape.
Without realizing it right away, William removed his NWU jacket and arranged it to be a makeshift stretcher. He felt a stinging cold in his lower back. It was at that point he fully realized that he had removed his jacket and in the process, accidently lifted the back of his undershirt just enough to expose some of the massive burn scar on the lower third of his back to the chilly December air.
William didn't care about that though. For the moment, he didn't care who even got a fleeting glimpse of the shiny, pitted scar on his back. Where it seemed in places that his skin on that part of his back was translucent or even transparent, showing flesh that had taken on a purple hue from the cold biting air. All he cared about at this moment was doing everything he could to save PT-41. He couldn't allow himself to freeze up; otherwise he was certain PT-41 would die. He had seen enough people die before his eyes to last himself several lifetimes. He wasn't about to let PT-41 die if he had a thing to say about it.
When the Japanese Heavy Cruiser approached the floating dock, William swallowed the lump that formed in his throat and fought back the urge to hurl. He knew PT boats were surprisingly tough, but even he couldn't believe how shot up 41 was. Sections of her nose, torso and even little pieces of the dog's head were just simply
gone. He could briefly see through the holes entrails that were a few movements away from spilling out altogether. Yet he could see 41's shallow breaths, his only indication that the dog still lived. A PT Corgi that would still continue to live if he didn't freeze up and did what needed to be done.
When Nachi came to a stop at the floating dock and got ready to hand him PT-41. He reached out and had the heavy cruiser help him wrap the dog in his NWU Jacket before he took PT-41 in his arms. An expression of barely concealed pain played out across his face as he took the nigh-mortally wounded dog into his arms, he thought for just a moment that 41 had died during the handover when he didn't notice a breath from her. Until he felt a small rise come from her chest.
He looked up from PT-41 and into Nachi's eyes as Sandbar and Banks helped the other five badly wounded dogs out of the water. "Thank you Nachi, for bringing them all home… Thank you for bringing my girls home." William whispered to the Heavy cruiser with a mostly thankful tone, though his voice did crack from the flood of emotions that threatening to overwhelm him.
William turned around sharply and began fast walking towards the Humvees. He didn't care whether or not if the Heavy Cruiser or her destroyers saw the twisted gnarled flesh of the scar in the early dawn light. All he cared about was the mangled form of a PT Corgi he was holding in the makeshift stretcher that was his NWU Jacket. As he arrived to the Humvee Ellen was in the back of, William heard and saw the PFC sharply inhale before she sprang into action.
"Ellen, if there's anything I can do to help you…" William trailed off as he got into the back and placed PT-41 on one of the benches that doubled as a compact operating table. It creaked and groaned for a few tense moments but it didn't collapse.
"Yes, put these on and then do as I say, Sir." Ellen said with an even but determined voice as she handed her CO a pair of surgical gloves. As soon as the LT took the gloves from her, she was a blur of motion as she picked various medical supplies and began her work.
"Take this gauze pad here and hold that against that entry wound there." Ellen commanded William, pointing out which entry wound she was speaking about with her pinky finger as she finished setting up most of an IV line. She went to PT-41's intact front leg, took the cordless electric shaver she had brought with her and shaved off a rectangle of fur from around the area of 41's Cephalic vein.
She then took one of the cotton balls she had doused with rubbing Alcohol earlier as she saw the Lieutenant approaching the Humvee. With the soaked cotton balls, Ellen rubbed and wiped off the semi-congealed blood, sweat and other contaminants on 41's skin in that shaved spot. Once that patch of 41's skin was completely clean, she took a catheter and swiftly went through the process of setting it up in the dog and securing it.
As the IV line was connected, Sergeant Banks came up to the Humvee with PT-35 and placed her in the back with William, Ellen and PT-41. "Sir, all remaining mobile dogs are heading back to base, PT's 26, 28 and 42 are riding back to base in Sanderson's Humvee." The appointed operations officer of the unit reported to his CO, who briefly nodded once before the Sergeant closed the doors and went up to get into the driver's seat.
Ellen looked over to PT-35 and quickly assessed where she needed to be wrapped to stem the worst of the bleeding from her partially torn off stern. Ellen then directed William on where to wrap the wounded PT-Corgi with bandages and gauze to slow down her bleeding. Even as she was occupied with trying to cover up or temporarily plug up the worst of the holes in PT-41. Though she did take her time to stitch a few holes closed and pull out a few dozen pieces of shrapnel that were embedded on the surface of 41's skin.
The ride back to base was tense and nearly silent as William and Lisa worked furiously to stabilize their respective dogs. The only sounds were that of the Humvee's engine, and directions from Lisa to William on where to apply a bandage.
[=]
As the leading Humvee came to a stop just outside of the repair docks building, the doors to the back of the ambulance flew open before two people came out carrying a PT-Corgi each. Heavily wrapped in bandages and covered in already red tainted gauze was PT-41. Still wrapped in the Lieutenant's NWU jacket and being carried by the man himself while Ellen carried PT-35, whose stern was wrapped up in with bandages that had already turned red from the bleeding she had from her wound there. Ellen briefly paused at the doors and turned to face Sergeant Banks as William marched on ahead.
"Banks go help Sandbar and Sanderson with carrying PT-26, 28 and 42 inside." Ellen barked out as before she went into the building with PT-35 in hand just as the second ambulance Humvee pulled up to the building and parked.
Ellen knew that PT-41 was going to need her attention the most out of all of the heavily wounded Corgis. Still though she wasn't quite prepared to see how much 41 had actually bled, by all conventions, 41 should have bled out long before they got to the docks. But she hadn't, even though the small hallway to leading to the repair pool had a trail of fairly sizable blotches of shimmering reddish blood leading to it, no doubt it was what had seeped through the Lt's NWU's and dripped to the floor.
PT-35 whined quietly, which made Ellen stroke the side of the PT Corgi's face with her free hand. "Shhh I know girl, I know. Don't worry, we'll save your sister, I haven't lost any of y'all yet and I sure as hell ain't gonna start now." Lisa said in a comforting tone even as she hurried down the hall and entered the repair pool room.
William was already in the pool, gently moving PT-41 from the makeshift stretcher that was his NWU jacket onto the submerged adjustable operating table. Ellen didn't even bother to try removing her boots as she waded into the pool and placed PT-35 on top of the water. The Dog whined sharply for a moment before making a relieved sound. "Hang tight 35; I have to get working on 41." Lisa said somewhat apologetically to the dog, who responded with a bark that Lisa understood was a clear command of '
Go help her first' from PT-35.
As Ellen moved over to PT-41 to resume the surgery she had started in the back of the Ambulance. Banks, Sanderson and Sandbar arrived with PT's 26, 28 and 42 in hand respectively. As the three men carried their respective PT Corgi to the repair pool, the doors to the room were almost wrenched free from their hinges from the arrival of the remainder of Squadron 3.
As Sanderson directed Sandbar and Banks with treating the other wounded dogs, William watched as Lisa removed some of the gauze and wrappings from PT-41. Already he could see that the water was beginning to heal the severely wounded PT Corgi. However, he also saw that some of the damage was healing back
wrong. He noticed Ellen's wince as she saw the damage slowly healing back the wrong way.
"William we're gonna have to…" Lisa started saying but trailed off, he looked at her with icy cold eyes.
"I know, just tell me what I need to get you and what I have to do." William said to her somewhat tersely before she gave him a slightly timid nod.
"I'm gonna need the portable band saw Lieutenant… I don't think I can save these back two legs." Lisa said hesitantly as she removed the bandages covering the mangled legs. She saw that the stumps were stating to regrow, but the flesh was like twisted and gnarled wood at its ragged ends. She adjusted the table upwards, and carefully shifted PT-41 over to the small vice that was bolted onto the table. As gently as she could, Lisa locked one of PT-41's mangled hind legs in the vice. She was about to look up and ask William to hand her the saw when the man all but placed it in her hands for her.
She wordless took the saw and reeved it up. Before bringing it down on PT-41's leg, she saw from the corner of her eyes William moving to comfort the dog as best as he could. Despite everything, she didn't make a single errant movement as she sawed off the mangled flesh despite the dog's sharp yelp of pain.
Wood shavings interspersed with a small amount of metal flecks flew out as the PFC removed the section of leg that was beyond saving. It only took thirty seconds for the first stump to be cut, and then another forty for her to maneuver the other hind leg into the vice, secure it and then cut off the charred splintered wood. Once the task was done, she released the dog from the vice and took in a breath.
"Hand me the cordless Dremel with a sanding drum… and hold her still Lieutenant." Ellen said with a monotone voice, the tool was handed to her a moment later. She then proceeded to sand the cuts smooth, so that when PT-41's hind legs healed, they would heal correctly. Lisa did this work all while doing her absolute best to not let the pained whimpers and yelps coming from PT-41 affect her. She wouldn't and
couldn't allow it to affect her ability to do her job right.
It didn't take her long to finish the work on her hind legs, but now came the hardest part, PT-41's right flank. Ellen winced as she looked at the sheared, splintered and burned wood that dominated part of the dog's right side.
Lisa swallowed a lump and knew what needed to be done, she had to open up that part of 41 and remove the charred bits that were on the inside. As she looked to William's eyes, she saw the immense pain they held in their Hazel-Green stare. However, she saw something else smoldering in those orbs, something determined but dark.
She couldn't discern what exactly the other emotion was, but when his eyes glanced up and met hers, she felt a chill of fear run up her spine. For one brief moment in the room's lighting, the Lieutenant's eyes had appeared to turn a pale yellow color. Ellen blinked and William's eyes were their Hazel-Green color once more.
"Ellen…" William started, his voice tense but precise. "I'll do the Debridement on the outside portion; just do what you need to do for her on the inside." He said in a mechanical like manner before taking a small handful of quick-change Dremel bits that Sandbar had retrieved. He then gave them to Ellen, who wasted no time swapping the sanding drum out for a cutoff wheel before she started to cutaway the tattered ruins of the PT-Boat's rigging around her burned and partly ripped open right flank.
William closed his eyes briefly and gently stroked an undamaged part of 41's face, doing his best to comfort her. He saw Sanderson and Sandbar doing their best to help the other dogs, but they didn't have Ellen's experience with doing surgery on animals. The best they could do was clean wounds, remove anything that was burned and pull bullet fragments and shrapnel from locations they could easily see. Or hand him or Ellen the tools they needed, like how Sandbar returned with a pad of course steel wool and handed it to him.
William took the pad and looked at PT-41 once more. "This is gonna hurt girl, but it's so you can heal properly." He whispered to her softly, like a father speaking to his daughter, before he took the pad in one hand and just as Ellen finished cutting off that tattered remains of 41's rigging vest.
He started scrubbing at the charred skin and flesh that was on the outside of the dog's right flank. William's other hand rubbed an intact part of her head. He felt every shudder and twitch from PT-41 travel up both of his arms as he did his work and it took all he had to keep going; to do what needed to be done. It took him a minute to finish removing the charred flesh, leaving raw bloody wood behind. With warm water, Ellen rinsed the spot thoroughly before she prepared to cut into the area around the hole that led to the fire damage on the inside.
A low ragged pained whine slipped past PT-41's mouth as Ellen took the Dremel and started carefully cutting open her right flank. At least the sections of it that hadn't already been torn open from cannon fire. She had to remove a bit more to get full access to the charred part of 41's engine room. After a minute, she had her opening made and what she saw inside when she shined a waterproof flashlight into the cavity almost made her vomit then and there.
Swallowing down the bile that had lept up her throat, Ellen switched out the cutting disk for a stainless steel brush. She glanced up the Lieutenant, who had busied himself with carefully removing even more bullets and shrapnel fragments from the inside of PT-41's destroyed eye. He noticed her stare, and gave her a small nod.
When Lisa brought the rotating brush into contact with the charred parts of 41's engine room, at first 41 didn't react. However, after a second the pain struck the PT Corgi full force. A shrieking yelp of agony flew out of the dog as the PFC methodically scrapped off the charred sections of her Engine room.
It took Lisa Ellen ten minutes; ten whole minutes to finish the Debridement of PT-41's fire damaged Engine room. Ten minutes where she had to hear the PT-Corgi whine, shriek and whimper with pain as she scoured the charred sections away. Rinse and flush the cavity with fresh water, inspect it, and then go back with the Dremel to scour off any char she had missed in a prior pass.
The PFC had to make six such passes before she was certain she had gotten it all. She then stuffed the slowly bleeding cavity with gauze to keep undamaged sections of 41's organs in place before she tapped an extra-large gauze pad over the hole. There wasn't any other way she could have closed the wound. With that bit of surgery done, she lowered the operating table into the water until PT-41 was partially submerged in the healing waters.
Lieutenant Corgi picked up his ruined NWU jacket that had tossed aside after he had placed PT-41 on the operating table. Folding the jacket up into a makeshift pillow, he carefully lifted 41's head up and placed the garment underneath before gently setting her head back down. The PT Corgi made a sound that sounded like a relived sigh and then passed out as the healing waters began to do their work on her badly battered body.
"William I'll still need to do more surgery on 41 to get everything… but she's no longer at any immediate threat of dying. I have to get to the others…" Ellen said, trailing off slightly. She didn't know how exactly her CO would take her statement. The marine flinched ever so slightly when her CO looked up at her.
"Do what you have to, I'm here to help. Sandbar, Sanderson, thank you both for your help but I think you two need to head back to the Barracks building, unless Ellen still needs your help with treating the wounded." William said in a tired voice. He looked over to Ellen, who shook her head.
"Though I'll still need you here Lieutenant," She briefly looked at the rest of Squadron 3, "Because I'm almost certain these girls aren't gonna sit still and make my job easy unless their dad is here with them." She said in a quiet, faintly upbeat voice. The Lieutenant looked at her with a mixed expression on his face for a few moments before a faint ghost of a smile crossed his face. A bit of life returned to his otherwise dulled eyes.
"Alright Lisa, I'll stay and help ya with them." William said as he looked over the other PT Corgis of squadron 3 and noticed the happy body language they displayed. As Sandbar, Banks and Sanderson left the room; Ellen directed the Lieutenant with what needed to be done on the rest of the wounded dogs.
[=]
Twelve hours later, they were done with the last of the surgeries.
All the shrapnel and bullets had been pulled from the PT Corgis of squadron 3; every hole was either closed up or covered up with bandages. William Corgi felt tired. He felt beyond tired no doubt because of how little sleep he had before everything occurred. He was still at the repair docks, cleaning up things after Lisa had departed. He had told her to get something to eat and get much needed rest.
As much as it had pained him to see some of the Dogs lose legs, he knew it had affected Ellen worse, even if she hadn't shown a single sign of it until after she was completely done putting the wounded back together again.
His eyes drifted over to PT-41, still wrapped up and covered in bandages and gauze, but she was half floating on the water's surface. Four additional rounds of surgery were needed to get her to this current state. He knew that she'd heal up, but even with the ease of repairing PT boats, she'd be dock bound for at least a few days, at most an entire week.
All the other wounded members of squadron 3 would come out of the docks before PT-41 did. Though William knew that unless he specifically ordered them to do so; some if not all of the other 11 members of squadron 3 would refuse to leave the repair baths until PT-41 came was done healing and ready to get out. While William wouldn't dare leave PT-41 alone in the repair pools, he knew that he could just let all the members of Squadron 3 stay at the docks.
They didn't have enough surface assets for him to do that and not jeopardize the patrol screen. It was going to be bad enough that he'd have to have a few squadrons pull double shifts. And it'll also be a headache to rotate the squadrons to pull double shifts until enough of Squadron 3 was fully healed so they could resume their night patrols, if a bit in a reduced capacity.
William rubbed his temples as thoughts of all the things he'd need to do in the near future and addition to his lack of sleep brought forth an almost unbearable headache. Tossing away the last of the torn open packages of bandages and gauze, he picked up his soggy, stained NWU jacket. Looking at the garment for a few moments, he knew he would never get the stains out, and even if he could get them out. He still wouldn't wear it ever again; he didn't want the reminder of how close he had come to Losing PT-41.
Besides, the Jacket was from when he had initially returned to active duty after spending a few months at a desk job after recovering from the injuries he had sustained from that fourth bloody day of that awful week. It was at least one and a half sizes too big on him now compared to how he was when he came out of doing a desk job. It also stank of blood and faintly of high octane gasoline, so that was just even more reason to not keep it. Besides, he figured he was well overdue on getting a new set of uniforms. Even if it meant adding just a tiny bit more to the mountain of paperwork he knew he was going to have to do.
Tossing the garment into the garbage can, the Lieutenant started to make his way out of the room. However, he halted in his tracks when a single almost unnoticeable whine echoed out. He turned around and saw PT-41 raising her head as far above the water as she could. The dog's mouth slightly opened up again and another whine escaped the PT Corgi.
His eyes widened as he understood exactly what she was conveying with that whine. She was asking him to not leave her, at least not yet. William stood there for a moment, unsure what course of action to take. However, that indecisiveness lasted only for a brief moment before he walked over to the repair pool before stepping in. There was a stool in the water by the pool's wall, one Ellen had been using when she was busy doing surgery and needed to be seated.
Sitting down on the stool and letting his back be mostly supported by the wall, William was a little more than halfway submerged in his seated position. The location of the stool placed him next to the severely wounded but now slowly recovering PT Corgi. He heard another small whine come from the dog and realized that she wanted to be in his lap, which was submerged but not deeply so. He even saw that she was trying to move herself into his lap!
"41, you know Ellen said you shouldn't be moving around too much. Stay still girl." William softly admonished the PT Corgi. Though his words didn't hold any real bite to them, he still worried about her reopening some of the wounds he and Ellen had worked hard on closing.
Reaching over to her with both hands, William very carefully moved PT-41 into his submerged lap. The PT Corgi almost immediately relaxed against him, her head resting against the arm he held under her head to support it. His free hand gently stroked the undamaged parts of her back and face. The Dog lightly nuzzled her face against the cotton of his undershirt as he spoke almost inaudible words of comfort to the dog.
William was so focused on watching 41's breathing fall back to regular if a bit sedated pattern, that he hadn't noticed the other members of Squadron 3 gathering around him until he felt a snout poke his left side. Blinking twice at the touch, he looked over and saw that it was PT-34 coming up to rest against him. He then looked around and saw that all the members of Squadron 3 were gathering around him and PT-41. Though they did give their severely injured sister the space she needed. They still crowed around the two of them in a group hug. Or at least the closest thing to one that PT Corgis could manage.
The Lieutenant blinked again when he felt the impact and then tug of small anchors on his pant legs. A small gentle smile spread across his face. He felt completely utterly spent, but he felt oddly comfortable. The lure of sleep was simply too great for him to try resisting it anymore. So he slowly closed his eyes. Almost right away he was somewhere between being awake and being asleep.
In his mind he wasn't sitting a little past his belly button in the warm waters of the repair bath, surrounded by 11 PT Corgis with one heavily bandaged one in his lap. Instead in the Lieutenant's mind, he was sitting on a soft sofa in a warm living room.
Surrounded on either side by a total of eleven little girls that looked like identical sisters save for the small differences between them, some of them were lightly bandaged up, others more so and two were completely unblemished. All of them however, were hugging him and the twelfth girl that was resting in his lap. She was heavily bandaged and wrapped in a soft blanket, breathing slowly but steadily. She was held steady in his lap with his left arm while his free hand gently tussled her hair.
"It'll be alright girls." William murmured softly in both his dream and in the real world. "Everything's going to be alright my precious little girls. I'm here for you. Dad's here for you." Lieutenant Corgi murmured quietly as he and the PT Corgis of Squadron 3, drifted off to sleep together.
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