After a few minutes, he found his way to the line of soldiers retreating from the first two lines. They parted to the side when saw Evans had Howe over his shoulders. He eventually reached the rally point at the fifth line. He shouted at the first officer he saw, “Ma’am! Which way to drop off wounded?”
The officer pointed towards a communication trench, “That way Sergeant.”
“Thank you Ma’am,” Evans replied as he ran into the communication trench. A shell burst on the ground above nearby and showered Evans with dirt, with some of it hitting his legs. He shuddered a bit and kept running. After a few more minutes, he made it to the dressing station.
A soldier directed him to a litter, “Over here! Put her down, a nurse will be with you quickly. Stay with her until we can get the information down.”
Nodding, Evans made it to the empty litter and put Howe down. She smiled and said something softly. Evans nodded and put his hands in his pocket. Fuck. Her blood had gotten down there too. At least he was at the dressing station.
A Nurse came over with a clipboard and asked a few questions, “Her Name and Unit?”
“Private Anna Howe, 202nd Infantry, Fox Company.”
“Nature of Injury?”
“Gun shot to the stomach area..”
“I cleaned the wound with alcohol and applied a field dressing.”
“And how about you?”
“How are you wounded, who are you, etcetera.”
Shaking his head, Evans responded, “Oh, I’m not wounded, the blood’s from Private Howe.”
“You might want to sit down soldier.”
Evans looked down. His leg had several pieces of shrapnel sticking out of it. He lifted up his shirt and saw more blood coming from there. He looked at the Nurse, “Oh Fuck Me.” And passed out.