The bottom of the hill looked like a triage ward.
Rhyner was crawling down the last steep incline of the hill, when Martinez arrived with his aid bag. As he approached, Martinez could see the interpreters rolling CK off the mountain. He watched as the terp’s body fell the last few feet to the wadi below.
While Lodyga met with Walton to coordinate the medevacs, McGarry set up a security perimeter around the bottom of the hill to ward off any attacks. Positioned near the goat barn where Ford waited, Martin was on the satellite radio calling in the medevac helicopters. They had gone to refuel and it would take a few minutes for them to return.
Martinez went straight to the wounded. They were laid out at the bottom of the cliff. He asked Shurer what he could do. The medic was focusing on Behr because he appeared to be in the worst shape. Nearby, Carter was tending to Morales.
“Help John,” Shurer said.
Kneeling at Walding’s side, Martinez broke open his medical bag.
“You’re going to be okay.”
Walding was scuffed up. His teeth were covered in dirt. Martinez could see his lips were dry from being dehydrated. Walding had a little smile and he kept asking for morphine. He was complaining about the pain and that he was having problems breathing. Martinez didn’t give him any because morphine depresses a patient’s respiratory drive.
He started an IV on Walding and then helped Carter start one on Morales. Since Shurer was short on medical supplies, Martinez’s aid bag became the only means of treating the wounded until the helicopters arrived.
We’ve got to get these guys out of here, he thought.
The shooting had slacked off a little, but Martinez knew they weren’t safe yet. He was amazed that the wounded were still alive, but the clock was ticking. When are the medevac helicopters going to show up?