An Ordinary Day Read Online Free PDF Page B

dressing around the man’s hand and tied it tightly in place. Durant then carefully inserted a needle into the man’s arm and attached a Ringer’s lactate drip for fluid replacement. It was probably the best nutrition his body had seen for a while. Durant checked for other wounds, made sure the line was flowing correctly, and then pondered his next move.
    The fire fight seemed to have slowed down and some of the gunshots sounded as if they were receding into the distance. Durant silently took the combatant’s blood pressure and wrote his vital signs on a piece of tape, which he stuck to the man’s arm. Sweat poured down Durant’s face as he examined the injured man. Under his jacket, he wore a red T -shirt with the Coca-Cola logo and the words ‘Coke Adds Life’ written in white. Durant managed a faint smile. The man was well built and clearly in good physical shape. His eyes met Durant’s momentarily, and Durant looked away. This man would kill him, given half a chance. When the man closed his eyes again, Durant studied his face. He expected a cold and expressionless face, the face of the enemy. But it was a kind face; the face of a man wise beyond his years, an elder, a soldier who commanded the respect of his men.
    ‘You can’t win,’ the man said quietly, in a deep, commanding voice.
    ‘Shut up,’ Durant said instinctively, shocked at his own brutal response.
    ‘It’s a people’s war,’ the soldier said, ‘You can’t fight the people forever.’
    Durant wished his team would return, as they would know how to deal with this situation. He was just a medic. His patients were to be incoherent and screaming in pain and he was to simply apply medical protocols to keep the patient alive. The man was dying, bleeding out. He should have been praying, asking Durant to tell his wife he loved her, confessing his sins. Instead, he was using his last bit of strength to deliver a political speech.
    ‘I’m not a politician – I follow orders,’ Durant said, gently squeezing the plasmalyte bag to speed up the fluid flow into the patient’s veins.
    ‘Don’t you want peace? Don’t you want the killing to stop?’
    ‘You’re killing us. We’re protecting ourselves.’ As he said the words, Durant knew he had committed the cardinal sin of engaging in a conversation with the enemy.
    ‘We’re both soldiers. You know how much we want peace?’
    ‘It’s an elusive thing.’
    ‘Why are you here?’ the man asked, grimacing in pain and struggling for breath.
    ‘I fix people. I stop living people from becoming dead people. That’s the only reason I’m here. I’m not fighting this war, others are.’
    ‘You’re in the fight, my friend.’
    ‘I’m fighting to keep people alive so they can go home to their families. I thought I could make a difference here.’
    ‘This is a battlefield; you can’t make a difference here.’ His eyes screwed up in pain. It was hard for him to talk. ‘The difference, my friend … must come in your mind and in your heart.’
    Durant put his stethoscope back into his ears and took the man’s blood pressure again. ‘Look, I don’t want to talk to you, I just want to do my job, so I can go home.’
    ‘I also have a home in South Africa. I’m here so that one day I can go home and live in peace. I don’t want to be in this place any more than you do.’
    Durant was surprised the man was a South African. Both South Africans, fighting each other. ‘Ja, it’s crazy, isn’t it?’
    ‘If you want to make a difference, then you’re part of the struggle – the struggle’s all about making things different, making things better.’
    ‘Our struggles are different,’ Durant said. But he was unconvinced.
    The sound of running feet drew nearer, and Durant picked up his R 4 rifle and aimed it in the direction of the sound. He lowered it when he recognised the familiar battledress of his team. They were wide-eyed and breathless. One was shouting uncontrollably and another two