Chapter 19

I arrived at the Field Hospital in the early hours of the next day. I thanked Max and his friends for a safe journey. “You are the 175th Allied soldier or airman we’ve helped get to safety,” Max said as he drove away.

I surrendered my rifle and web belt, then my identification was confirmed. The nurse saw my limp and handed me a set of crutches to use. I said I had to send a telegram to my parents, and those taking me to the observation room laughed at me.

“I was injured several days ago in battle and our Doc thought I was dead. My parents have no doubt been notified I was killed in action. As you can plainly see, I am alive. Imagine one of your parents getting the telegram, or knock at the front door.”

Within minutes a Corporal from the Signals Squadron was taking down my message. In my dry humour, “Mom and Dad, contrary to popular belief, I am not dead, so don’t give away my golf clubs and skates. I was saved by a Dutch family, who hid me from the Germans until I could be taken to safety. I Love you all and will write you a good letter. Love Richard.”

Given a thorough examination, the doctor said I needed an operation on my calf muscle as the infection was spreading. My head wounds also required attention.

“Someone used ordinary thread to stitch up your leg anf head wounds?” The doctor asked.

“The wife of the family that saved my life. She had to remove a bone splinter I got from Private Ferguson, who was next to me. He must have taken the full brunt from an exploding grenade or mortor. This mark on my head is from part of his skull embedded into my scalp. This one is from a German bullet that grazed me.” I pointed to the two marks above my ear.

I was prescribed antibiotics to begin fighting the infection and operated on later that morning.

I woke up to the sight of a Nursing Sister writing a note on my medical chart. I lifted the sheet covering me to make sure my leg was still part of me. I saw a loosely wrapped bandage covering my calf muscle. It hurt like hell, more than my first days with Lana.

“Captain Henderson will see you shortly to explain what he did to your leg. The small box on the table had the contents of what was in your pockets,” she said.

I looked around at the other wounded soldiers, some missing an arm or leg or suffered an eye wound. I opened the box and took out Lana’s picture. I touched and kissed it. I missed her warm kisses and embrace, her nipples hardened by my lips, the taste of her pussy, and the sensation of us fucking. I was doubly lucky to experience both mother and daughter together in the same bed and separately.

“Sergeant Van Den Haven?”

“Yes, that’s me, Sir.”

“I’m Captain Henderson. I operated on your leg.”

“I get to keep my leg?” I sat up partially, and we shook hands.

“Yes. We had to remove some infected tissue which will likely leave your calf muscle smaller than the left one. You may end up with a permanent limp if the muscle can’t stretch to compensate for the lost of tissue.”

“I look around at these other wounded soldiers, and if I leave this war with only a limp and a few scars, I’ll be very grateful.”

“We also cleaned up your head wounds. We restitched them and the hair likely won’t grow back around the suture lines.”

“Thanks, Captain. When can I get back to my Regiment? I’m with the 48th Highlanders.”

“If you were a pilot or armoured vehicle soldier, you could likely return to combat. You are an infantryman and need your legs to do your job. Your combat days in this war are likely over. Your leg requires several weeks of healing. The Allies have the Germans on the run. We’re expecting more wounded later on. We’re pushing to liberate Apeldoorn and then Vassen.”

“Vaassen? The Dutch family that saved my life lives near there.”

“Hopefully they leave in time.”

“I brought you a set of crutches so you can move around easier,” the Nursing Sister said.

I was up in an instant hobbling around. “Anyone here from the 48th Highlanders?” I received no answer.

I went outside, the warm spring air and sunshine greeting me. I sat on a vacant chair, noticing other wounded soldiers. I gently rubbed my injured calf muscle and felt the bandage around my head. Compared to others, I was damn lucky. I could feel the pulse in my leg, which would be a good thing, I guess.

Returning to my bed, I noticed a man wearing a white hat going from bed to bed. Conversations getting closer to me me, I found out he’s a Padre.