The Wings of Mercury
Copyright© 2025 by Lumpy
Chapter 22
Temporary Legion Hospital, Eastern Germania
Ky stepped off the small military train and was immediately stopped by multiple soldiers who wanted to reach out and touch him, or wish him well, or just get his blessing.
Their level of adulation still made him uncomfortable, but he understood that in some ways they needed it, so he did his best to give them what they wanted, offering them the most hopeful words he could to soothe their worries as best he could.
The only thing that made this time different was that every one of the soldiers greeting him was injured in one way or another. Ky hadn’t been to the far rear, to their medical camp, in more than a month, something that bothered him greatly. During less critical moments of the campaign, he liked to come back and visit with the injured men, see how they were faring, and try to buoy their spirits a bit. The last month, however, he’d had even more reasons for wanting to come back, as the men the physician Hywel had trained on the new procedures and a large shipment of supplies and equipment to perform them had arrived at the rear hospital that served as the recuperation and recovery center.
Some of these techniques would move to the front-line medical stations, of course, since often amputations couldn’t wait for an ambulance carriage and then a short train ride to the temporary rear hospital. That would take time, however, as those physicians had to cycle through the rear facilities to be trained in the techniques while not actively under fire or being deluged with wounded that all needed immediate treatment.
Unfortunately, he’d been unable to come until now. After their last defeat, the enemy had begun pulling back from them. Not fully retreating, but every time they advanced to make contact, the enemy would pull their line back. If his forces slowed their pursuit, they would start lining up again. It was clear they were waiting for something, and that something had to be reinforcements. Ky had received another legion and replacements for the men they had lost from the training camp in Germania while the enemy had been bled badly in their handful of engagements.
It was only a matter of time until they got more men, and Ky had been focused on getting them to grips before that happened, in order to cause as much pain as he could before the odds unbalanced again. Unfortunately, having knowledge and abilities that gave his side an edge did not mean the enemy was incompetent. The drone gave them an edge in scouting, but the distances in this area of the world were long and the enemy did excellent scouting with what they had available, reacting quickly any time their scouts or skirmishers came in contact, quickly withdrawing.
For a month, he’d chased them over mountainous regions that would, in another future that would never happen, be the countries of Ukraine and Belarus. The entire time, they’d stayed a step ahead of him, always just out of reach.
Finally, he’d decided to change tactics and let the enemy wait for their reinforcements. His legates had been unsure about the decision, since wisdom dictated that if they were to fight, they should fight when the enemy was the weakest and they were the strongest. Ky, however, was not sure this style of warfare was the one they should be fighting at all. He knew the lessons of what happened when rifled firearms made their appearance, and the tactics stayed in the Victorian model. He’d known it, but still gone into battle with those tactics, and seen his men mauled even in victory.
It was time for a change, and the breather the enemy asked for while they waited to reinforce would suffice for him as well. They may come back rearmed and reinforced, but they would meet a surprise when they did.
He’d gotten a skeptical Bomilcar to work on what needed to be done, and then set off for the rear to see the new techniques in person before things heated up again.
Ky made his way to the largest of the sprawling tents with the caduceus symbol marking it as a primary center of healing, one of the few symbols that transcended the ancient world and stood for the same thing thousands of years later in his time.
The inside of the main area in the front part of the facility was huge and filled with row after row of cots. There was a sickly smell in the air, but it was not as bad as some of the field hospitals Ky had been in when he first arrived, where men were left to fester in their own fluids and disease ran rampant. Now, dressings and beddings were changed regularly and there was a slight tinge in the air from the antiseptics used to wash down every surface.
He was glad to see they were being so diligent at it.
A man in a clean, full-body tunic that clasped in the back and a thick leather apron approached Ky. It was similar to what most of the men and handful of women walking between the cots were wearing and was the more or less de facto uniform of physicians in the Empire. It wasn’t perfect, but the over-tunic allowed them to quickly change when they got dirtied so they could be boiled and sprayed down with antiseptics, while the leather apron would stand up to higher levels of antiseptics and harder sterilization.
It wouldn’t stop all transmission of bacteria, just as the cloth masks they wore when dealing with infectious patients wouldn’t stop everything, but it was better than just wearing the clothes that they wore around outside the tent or that had become soiled with fluids from multiple patients throughout the day.
When it came to keeping the areas around the patients clean, especially those with open wounds, incremental precautions were better than no precautions.
“Consul,” the man greeted, inclining his head respectfully. “I’m Veturius. I was sent as head of the team from Devnum to train everyone on the new procedures we’ve been working on. We’ve been hoping you’d be able to come see us.”
“I’m sorry it took me so long to make it. The reports I’ve seen have been stellar, however. Did you train under Hywel?”
“Yes. I was part of the first volunteers he brought in to train and assisted in our first amputation, and several of the smaller surgeries we did since, including leading on seven procedures before I volunteered to come out here. Not a lot to your years, I’m sure, but I was primary on more procedures than anyone other than Hywel himself, so it made sense for me to be the one to come out.”
“I’m sure everyone here is glad of that experience. I’ve seen the instructions Hywel put together for the procedures and the training you’re going to be doing, and it all looks excellent to me. I’m not here to second-guess your work, but I wanted to see what was being done in person, since I’ve only been able to rely on reports over the telegraph to this point. How are you finding it, both the things you learned and putting it into practice here?”
“Good. I was a healer before I volunteered, so I can say with some confidence that they’re making a world of difference. We’re saving limbs and lives that we would have lost before. People are surviving wounds longer and even recovering. I was notified just before you arrived that we are receiving some injured any time now. Do you want to observe our work?”
“I do. If I’m going to be near the procedures, I should probably scrub in as well,” Ky said.
As with nearly every industry that had been rapidly advanced, Ky had been forced to introduce words to describe things never considered before his arrival. Strangely, many of them traced their lineage back to Roman itself, sometimes creating confusion due to the circular etymology. It was one of the strange things about time travel that those who made entertainment about it never considered in their videos and stories.
“Of course, Consul. We’ll need to get you properly set up. I don’t know if you’ve ever cleaned with this antiseptic powder we’ve started using, but I should warn you, it does wear on your skin. We’ve had to start rotating those who use it to be properly sterilized to spend days just working the ward to give their skin time to recover.”
“Just the coverings will be fine. My skin doesn’t harbor germs. It’s one of my ... adaptations.”
The physician’s expression wavered between impressed and skeptical, but he didn’t argue aside from a moment’s hesitation. Saying outlandish things without being called on it was one of the few benefits of the pedestal his people put him on. One he’d give up if it meant no longer having to constantly perch on it, but if he had to, he’d at least take the good with the bad.
“Ohh. Uhh, in that case, follow me.”
Veturius led Ky through the connected tents, away from the ward filled with cots and recovering men, and into a connected one where the canvas walls had almost a glossy sheen that Ky knew came from regular scrubbing with less diluted acids and other antiseptics. The air carried a sharp, chemical odor.
“We’ve done our best to maintain a sterile environment,” Veturius explained, gesturing around the tent. “As with our overgarments, we change the tent material frequently, having the old ones boiled and treated with antiseptics. It is a demanding process, so we usually only manage it once a day. It’s also why this section is double lined, so that there is still a barrier as we change out the floors, walls, and even the ceilings. Although reuse is severely limited. Chemicals we use eat through the canvas rather quickly. And to be frank, I’m not entirely certain how sterile we’re actually getting these portable units. A permanent structure with less porous surfaces would be ideal.”
“Your concerns are valid,” Ky acknowledged. “It’s not as sterile as we need it to be, but it’s what we have to work with in the field. Even these measures will significantly reduce infections. And penicillin will help combat what does get through, for the most part. Sadly, we’ll still lose some men. It’s still a vast improvement over what was used before.”
“True. I think...”
Their conversation was cut short as a commotion signaled the arrival of the patients Veturius had been warned were coming. The physician led Ky to a side chamber of the winding, interconnected tents, where a portable metal table had been set up, one of the many pieces of equipment designed and set to the front. Several large buckets for catching limbs and blood sat next to it, ready for the gruesome task.
Veturius wasn’t doing the procedure himself but rather standing over the shoulder of a man who was, giving pointers and instructions as he went. The procedure itself was well done, exactly to the specifications set down by Ky in his original instructions and adapted into practice by Hywel. The ether did its job, putting the man under, and was monitored closely throughout the whole procedure. Ky knew from reports there had been failures, men who were put under and were not able to wake again. He’d known that would happen before he ever gave Sorantius instructions for making it, but it was still much better than being awake as a limb was sawed away and debrided, and the wound stitched closed.
After watching the amputation, Veturius showed him several minor operations involving the removal of bullets. That was much trickier since any cutting into a patient introduced new wounds and vectors for infection. They’d settled on removing bullets and shrapnel if they weren’t too deep or too close to organs. Unfortunately, many injuries involved the perforation of major organs and all they could do was administer medicine for pain and hope the body did its own work.
They were still a long way from internal stitching or repair of organs. It would come, but it seemed unlikely to Ky they would reach that level for several years, and maybe as much as a decade after that to get beyond the most rudimentary levels.
Even without that, cutting away dead muscle and tissue and removing bullets would save many of these men’s lives.
Ky only stayed for a few procedures. Their focus needed to be on the patients themselves and on training the field medics who were currently learning all of these procedures so they could take that knowledge to the forward aid stations.
Ky returned to the recovery ward, stopping at beds here or there to see how the wounds responded after the procedure, which was as important as the procedures themselves, as far as infection went.
He was happy to see that most of the bandages were clean and mostly free of seepage outside of the innermost bandages.
“How are you, soldier?” Ky asked as he stopped by one of the men whose right leg ended in a thick white bandage just at the knee.
“Consul! I ... I’m honored, sir. The pain’s not so bad, but the fever’s been rough.”
“Do you mind if I look at your leg?”
“Of course, anything you could do, Consul. I’d like to get back to my friends.”
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