The Music Trilogy (68 page)

COMBAT SUPPORT HOSPITAL

CHAPTER 26

Five minutes after the call the HH60L Black Hawk helicopter ambulance was in the air. Tyrone, one of the youngest pilots in the military, was racing just a few hundred feet about the plateau of sand toward his destination and the injured. He spotted the smoke flare and in just a few seconds the chopper was on the ground. Soldiers quickly lifted the two critically wounded into the helicopter’s cargo area and the steel bird with red crosses painted on its nose and sides lifted off just a couple of minutes after its initial landing. The interior could be configured to transport personnel, cargo or wounded soldiers. Any one of these configurations took no more than two minutes and the flight medic had already converted the area with the litters he needed. As soon as the injured were on board he immediately hooked them up to the supply of oxygen that was housed in the door panels and started working on their injuries. The helicopter was well equiped, enabling the medics to perform anything from major treatment to minor surgeries. Tyrone made sure the ECS, the environmental control system, was at a comfortable temperature, as the cabin could reach up to 170 degrees Fahrenheit.

Tyrone flew them to the combat hospital. He reflected that it was a Black Hawk, very similar to the one he was flying now, that had rescued him on that fateful day during the hurricane that killed his parents and destroyed his home. But it was also due to that circumstance and the Coast Guard crew that he found himself in the position of flying an aeromedical evacuation aircraft. He loved his job as a military pilot and he loved his bird. The instruments were state of the art and could guide him in inclement weather, through storms and during night rescues. He also loved that he was in a war zone where he could some good. His crew on board felt the same way and they all worked well together, so much so that they could almost read each other’s minds. Tyrone flew into the CSH compound, landing gently, albeit kicking up dust. The medical team on the ground was waiting, and as soon as they opened the door they immediately took the wounded into the hospital. Tyrone saw his sister and Sam ready to take his precious cargo. He saluted and blew them a kiss, and they returned the gesture. The sister and brother were proud of each other and had come a long way since the devastation in New Orleans.

The medical team took the wounded soldiers into the ER. Chantal and Sam were among them.

“Hey, Devereaux,” the doctor handling the patient they were working on said.”

“Yes, Doctor?”

“Tyrone, he’s your brother, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Well, young lady, I want you to know that he is one of the finest helicopter pilots I’ve had the privilege to fly with. And that’s saying something ‘cause I’ve ridden with some of the best and I’ve been doing this since Desert Storm. He’s damn young, but he’s a natural. He has the feel for it. I’m sure glad he’s on our team.”

“Thank you, Doctor. I’ll be sure to tell him and I know he’ll be very honored at your compliment.”

“And deservedly so. Now let’s try to save this boy’s arm.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

He opened his palm face up and before he could say “clamp” Chantal had already placed it there. Even under the mask the doctor was smiling. “You Devereaux kids are damn good at what you do. Keep it up!”

“Yes, Doctor, thank you, Sir.”

That week the CSH treated over two hundred wounded. Many returned to their units in less than seventy-two hours and were happy to return to their buddies. About one hundred were MEDEVACed to Landstuhl with Hercules C130’s converted into flying care centers. Sadly ten percent did not survive. Sam never anticipated how hard the first death hit her. She and her team tried to save as many as they could with all the knowledge and skill they possessed, but when one of them died it left them empty and frustrated. They were sure a little piece of their soul died with each one of the deceased. They all tried to distance themselves, well that was what they were supposed to do. But having worked on the injured bodies and being covered with their blood left them exasperated and disconcerted when those young lives ceased to exist.

The pace reached a ridiculous level with every member of the medical staff, from the highest ranking officer to the soldiers that just finished boot camp, working day and night with hardly any sleep. And even though they were totally exhausted, they were the consummate professionals and damn proud of the work and the lives they saved.

Sam even continued after the grueling medical attention of the operations and the care giving. She would visit the recovering wounded, sit by their side, hold their hands and sing to them. Some were conscious, others weren’t, but deep down she firmly believed that with music she could reach and help each and every one.

♫

BAGHDAD

CHAPTER 27

In the frenzy that was war Colin and Max were able to get a few hours to themselves. They both knew what they wanted to do and they borrowed a jeep from the motor pool and headed for the CSH.

“So, what’s happening with gorgeous Miss New Orleans and you?”

“What about you and Sam?”

“She’s engaged.”

“Well, that could change. And if it doesn’t you can always be friends.”

“Yeah, right. I don’t want to be friends, Haf, I want to be the air that she breaths, the music she hears…”

“Oooh, this boy’s got it bad.”

“Man, I’ve never felt like this about any woman before. There’s just something about her.”

“I know what you mean. I feel the same way about Chantal.”

“Yeah, she’s a really great girl, and an absolute beauty. Good job, Haf.”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Sure.”

“If you say anything I swear I’ll make fucking shish kebab meat out of you.”

“No man, it’s cool.”

“I think she’s the one, Music Man.”

“Wow, really?”

“Dead fucking serious.”

“And you just met.”

“From the moment I saw her, you know the day with the kid.”

“The day we brought Hamid in with his arm injury?”

“Yeah.”

Max looked at his buddy and couldn’t help thinking that this colossus of a man with the tender heart deserved all the bliss in the world. He was happy for him. And he wanted to be as happy—with Sam. “That’s great news, Haf. And don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

They arrived at the CSH and parked in front of the tents where Sam and Chantal worked. They jumped out of the jeep and went to find the girls. One of the staff directed them to the right ward. As they walked in Hamid ran up to them. Colin grabbed the boy, picked him up and lifted him high above his head as if he were a mere feather.

“Hello Colossus, hello Max.”

“Hello Hamid,” they both said.

“How is your arm?” Colin asked.

“It’s getting better,” Chantal said, as she came up behind the big man.

Colin whirled around and put Hamid down. “That’s great news,” he answered, as shy as a school boy.

“Hey Hamid,” Max said, patting him on the back. “You’re doing very well.” The boy stared blankly at Max, not understanding a word. Sam, who had been watching, came up and repeated Max’s phrase in Arabic. Hamid gave Max a huge smile. Max looked at Sam and his body went up a few degrees. His hands and back started to perspire. “Hi Sam,” he barely managed to say, “how are you?” Max had never, ever been at a loss for words when it came to women.

“Pretty good, it’s a bit of a slow day,” Sam answered.

“That’s always excellent.”

“Mm, I agree.”

“I have an idea. What are you and Colin up to?”

“Not much. We have a few hours off. What did you have in mind?”

“Well, since you have a jeep how about we go into Baghdad and deliver Hamid to his aunt.”

Max jumped at the opportunity to spend some time with Sam. “Sounds great.” He turned to his buddy. “Hey, Haf, the four of us are going to Baghdad to drop Hamid off.”

“Is Chantal coming?”

“That would make it four, Colossus, now wouldn’t it?” Chantal said walking up behind the big man.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Chantal turned to Sam. “Road trip?”

“Yeah, Hamid’s Aunt’s house.”

“If you want to wait for us in the jeep we’ll be out in ten minutes. Just have to sign him out.”

“Okay, Sam, we’ll be waiting,” Max said.

“This is going better than I could have imagined,” Max said to Colin.

“I’ll sit in the back with Chantal and Hamid and you can have Sam next to you in the front.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

The women walked out with Hamid and got into the jeep. Max was in the driver’s seat and Colin lifted Hamid and put him next to him in the back seat. Chantal joined him and Sam sat next to Max. He noticed her ring and tried not to the think of its meaning.

They left the CSH compound and headed into Baghdad. It was only a few miles.

“Hamid told me his Aunt’s house is very close to where you found him. Do you think you can get back there?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure,” Max answered.

Colin and Chantal were talking in the back as if they had known each other an entire lifetime.

“The other day you said something about helping the wounded with music and that you wished you had that Spanish guitar. Can you tell me about it now?”

“Oh, the power of the music. The most powerful weapon in the world.”

“My mother says that!” Max exclaimed.

“Smart Mom.”

“That she is. So tell me, what is your version of this weapon?”

“Well, scientists are finally proving, something that has been common knowledge since the beginning of time that the influence of music can help heal people. This is what I’ve been doing with some of the wounded that come through the CSH, especially the ones with PTSD or TBI.”

“TBI?”

“Traumatic Brain Injury. The brain is amazing. It is still so mysterious and we know just a little of what it does, but what I do know for sure is that somewhere in there it recognizes music, not words. It’s easier to remember notes that form a melody.”

“And the sounds are much prettier than the spoken word.”

“Right. Words are more complicated. They have sounds as well but it’s too precise, not to mention that there so many languages and dialects that no two sounds are the same. But in music you have seven sounds and they are always the same, now there’s the universal language everyone should be speaking.”

“Would make communicating between nations a lot easier.”

“Exactly. And as far as I know no one has ever gone to war over music.”

“Hey, instead of dropping bombs from the sky we should drop notes.”

“Wouldn’t that be interesting? Here take a C or an F, or as they say in other countries a Do or a Fa.”

“And if there’s a whole bunch of them it would be a song when they hit the target.” Max was enjoying himself and found talking to Sam easy and pleasant. And of course the subject was dear to his heart.

“You see, Max, the brain can understand or remember a tune. This in turn helps the injured person with communicating when nothing else can. For example, the other day I had a guy come in with a piece of shrapnel imbedded in his brain from an IED.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“Yes, and he couldn’t speak any more. The poor man was perfectly healthy otherwise. I started to sing to him.”

“What happened?”

“He was able to hum back to me. I sang him a lullaby that he knew.”

“Wow, that’s amazing.”

“It is, and I know that I could help even more if I had a guitar. There’s just something about it that somehow pushes a so called button in the brain. I think maybe because it’s a musical instrument that everyone knows.”

“This is really fascinating, and I think you’re definitely onto something.”

“I’m not the only one who sees this. There are more and more people studying these effects and getting great results, but it’s not out there enough. We need to push this more.”

“Sign me up.”

Sam smiled and Max thought his heart was slowly melting. “Consider yourself signed up.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you play an instrument, Max?”

“I do.”

“Which one?”

“Oh, a little bit of everything.”

Sam laughed. “That’s like saying I speak a few words of every language.”

Max laughed as well. “You’re right. I’ve tried quite a few instruments and my favorites are the piano and the guitar, but I’m passionate about rhythms so I love drums and bongos.”

“Nice. Maybe we’ll play together some time.”

“That would be great. Let’s do that sooner rather than later.”
Oh, yes please, let’s definitely play
.

“Yes, lets, there’s nothing more sensual that the combination of guitar and piano. At least I think so.”

“I absolutely agree.”
Totally!

“Hey Max,” Haf interrupted excitedly, “Chantal is from New Orleans, like me, and she has an aunt who is the best cook in the state!”

“I’ll vouch for that,” Sam said. “I’ve had some amazing meals in my life, but nothing like what Aunt Clotilde comes up with.”

“Hey, when all this is over, we’ll have her cook something for us,” Chantal said.

“It’s a plan,” Colin said.

“I’m in,” Max said.

“Why not,” Sam added. She also just realized that ever since she met Max she hardly thought of Robert.

“Hey Music Man, it’s the next right up ahead.”

“Yeah, got it.”

“Music Man?” Sam asked. “Why do they call you that?”

“It’s a nickname Haf gave me in boot camp. When things got tough music got me through it.”

Sam nodded. She was liking Max more and more, and hating herself for it.

When they arrived at the house Hamid was ready to jump out, but Colin held him back. “Just wait a few more minutes, little man, let us check out the place first.”

But Hamid didn’t have to wait long. A woman dressed in an all-black hijab, including a veil over her face ran out of the house with outstretched arms. “Hamid!” She exclaimed.

“Aunt Fatima,” the boy screeched in delight and jumped out of the jeep. They hugged and then she saw the bandage.

“Are you hurt? Is it painful?”

“No, they fixed it up. They said it would be like new.”

Fatima turned to the people in the vehicle and in broken English thanked them for all they had done. She also insisted they come in for tea. They couldn’t refuse, it would have been impolite, and so they followed her in. The little house was sparsely furnished. Max thought that maybe they had sold almost everything to survive. They sat down cross-legged on a carpet around a low table.

Sam related that her husband, Hamid’s uncle, had been killed along with his parents.

Fatima came out of the kitchen carrying a platter with dates, small cups and a steaming pot of brewed tea. She served each one of her guests with the greatest of pleasures. It was such a treat to have people in her house, and she was so grateful and happy to have her little nephew back.

“This tea is amazing,” Chantal commented.

“You like
chai
?” Fatima asked.

“Yes, very much, thank you. What is the spice? It is delicious.”

“It is
heil.
I don’t know in English.”

“Cardamom,” Sam said.

“I’ll have to get some for Aunt Clo.”

“No, no,” Fatima exclaimed, “I give to you.” She quickly went to the kitchen and brought back two small bags, one with tea, the other with cardamom. “Please, for you,” she said, handing it to Chantal.

“Thank you very much, Fatima. We will think of you in New Orleans, where I am from, when we drink this wonderful tea.”

“New Orleans? Tell me about this city,” Fatima asked.

“I’m from the same city,” Colin said.

“Ah, you are the same family,” Fatima said to Chantal and Colin.

The big man wanted to crawl under the carpet. Max, who ordinarily would have pursued the issue and made him even more uncomfortable, came to his rescue. “We are all one family, Fatima. Some of us are like brothers and sisters, sometimes from different cities. I am from Washington and Sam is from Boston, also very beautiful cities.”

“Ah, yes, one day maybe we will visit your beautiful America.”

“It would be our pleasure to have you as our guests, Fatima. You are welcome any time,” Max said.

“You are very kind, and we, the Iraqi people are very grateful you have come to help us. Thank you from all of us,” Fatima said, and touched her heart.

Max wanted to help. He knew that giving her money would be insulting so he had an idea.

“Fatima,” Max said.

“Yes?”

“When we found Hamid he was in a music store.”

“Yes, that was my brother’s shop, Hamid’s father. May Allah watch over him and my sister-in-law.”

“Was he the one who made the instruments?”

“Yes, he made most of them. They were very beautiful.”

“Truly remarkable. Do you know what happened to them, the few that were not destroyed?”

“There were not too many left. I have them here.”

“Really? May I see them?”

“Of course, come with me.”