just an attempt to introduce something recognisable into this alien landscape â some reminder of the familiar shapes and sights of a European homeland? Walking back along the trail to his camp site, Vinnie turned this mystery over in his mind.
The end of the trail loomed with unexpected speed, like the end of a long green tunnel. Reaching it, Vinnie was startled again by the unusual silence that pervaded here, but he was alarmed when that silence was broken, suddenly and harshly, by the lilt of disembodied voices, floating across the clearing like smoke in the morning air.
August 1943
âDoctor, what is this word?â
Erich carried the ageing medical textbook to the desk, indicating with his finger the unfamiliar term.
â Cauterise , Erich. It is when you use a hot iron or flames to literally burn the infection out of a wound. Itâs something we have to do occasionally, and also when we desperately need to stop some bleeding.â
For the last few days, at the doctorâs suggestion, Erich had been spending his spare time reading from the old medical texts that were kept on a small shelf behind the doctorâs desk.
âIt sounds primitive.â
âMuch of modern surgery is based on primitive techniques, donât forget that. In any case, you should remember that fire can be a strikingly effective antiseptic measure, if nothing else is available. Very few diseases can survive extreme temperature. Sometimes burning is all you can do.â
Erich offered no further comment as he returned to his seat by the fire. The rain had lifted and the sun glistened wet on smoky green leaves. After a week of constant drumming on tin roofs the world seemed silent, the morning still, cold and crisp. There were no patients at the moment, and Erich found himself falling into contentment, which he knew he must resist.
âI suspect we will be busy later, Erich.â
Doctor Alexander spoke without looking up.
âWhy?â
âThe change in the weather. It often brings accidents with it. Men get careless, distracted. Axes are swung haphazardly, footing lost in the mud. Rarely does a change like this herald good news for you and me.â
âShould I do anything to prepare?â
The doctor considered.
âThatâs a very good suggestion. Can you prepare a tray of bandages and mix some more antiseptic?â
Erich set to the task without reply. As he rolled bandages and mixed the brown Condyâs crystals with boiling water, he could feel the old manâs eyes on his back.
âIs something wrong, Doctor?â
âNo, not at all, Erich. I was just thinking to myself what a great deal of aptitude you show for this kind of work.â
âThank you, Doctor.â
âNot at all. What do you plan to do after the war?â
âAfter the war?â
âIt canât last forever, you know.â
Erich stopped, mid-bandage, considering, reminding himself that the old man behind the desk was still his captor, the enemy.
âI think I will wait and see who wins first, Doctor.â
âA wise answer, Erich. But may I offer a suggestion?â
Erich said nothing.
âRegardless of who wins, you should consider most carefully joining the medical profession. A young man with your intelligence and ability could do a great deal for the world.â
âI donât think so, Doctor.â
Thoughts of after the war, of home, were dangerous. Already, after only a few weeks of camp life, Erich had seen what happened to men who let themselves become caught up in dreams of home and of peace. They became complacent, domesticated, sacrificing their pride for a quiet life. They stopped fighting. Men like Stutt and GuÌnter were now little more than lapdogs for the Australians and English. Men with no honour.
âAnd why not?â
Erich considered the best reply. âBecause I suspect that my father would not approve.â
âWhy on earth not? It is a very
The end of the trail loomed with unexpected speed, like the end of a long green tunnel. Reaching it, Vinnie was startled again by the unusual silence that pervaded here, but he was alarmed when that silence was broken, suddenly and harshly, by the lilt of disembodied voices, floating across the clearing like smoke in the morning air.
August 1943
âDoctor, what is this word?â
Erich carried the ageing medical textbook to the desk, indicating with his finger the unfamiliar term.
â Cauterise , Erich. It is when you use a hot iron or flames to literally burn the infection out of a wound. Itâs something we have to do occasionally, and also when we desperately need to stop some bleeding.â
For the last few days, at the doctorâs suggestion, Erich had been spending his spare time reading from the old medical texts that were kept on a small shelf behind the doctorâs desk.
âIt sounds primitive.â
âMuch of modern surgery is based on primitive techniques, donât forget that. In any case, you should remember that fire can be a strikingly effective antiseptic measure, if nothing else is available. Very few diseases can survive extreme temperature. Sometimes burning is all you can do.â
Erich offered no further comment as he returned to his seat by the fire. The rain had lifted and the sun glistened wet on smoky green leaves. After a week of constant drumming on tin roofs the world seemed silent, the morning still, cold and crisp. There were no patients at the moment, and Erich found himself falling into contentment, which he knew he must resist.
âI suspect we will be busy later, Erich.â
Doctor Alexander spoke without looking up.
âWhy?â
âThe change in the weather. It often brings accidents with it. Men get careless, distracted. Axes are swung haphazardly, footing lost in the mud. Rarely does a change like this herald good news for you and me.â
âShould I do anything to prepare?â
The doctor considered.
âThatâs a very good suggestion. Can you prepare a tray of bandages and mix some more antiseptic?â
Erich set to the task without reply. As he rolled bandages and mixed the brown Condyâs crystals with boiling water, he could feel the old manâs eyes on his back.
âIs something wrong, Doctor?â
âNo, not at all, Erich. I was just thinking to myself what a great deal of aptitude you show for this kind of work.â
âThank you, Doctor.â
âNot at all. What do you plan to do after the war?â
âAfter the war?â
âIt canât last forever, you know.â
Erich stopped, mid-bandage, considering, reminding himself that the old man behind the desk was still his captor, the enemy.
âI think I will wait and see who wins first, Doctor.â
âA wise answer, Erich. But may I offer a suggestion?â
Erich said nothing.
âRegardless of who wins, you should consider most carefully joining the medical profession. A young man with your intelligence and ability could do a great deal for the world.â
âI donât think so, Doctor.â
Thoughts of after the war, of home, were dangerous. Already, after only a few weeks of camp life, Erich had seen what happened to men who let themselves become caught up in dreams of home and of peace. They became complacent, domesticated, sacrificing their pride for a quiet life. They stopped fighting. Men like Stutt and GuÌnter were now little more than lapdogs for the Australians and English. Men with no honour.
âAnd why not?â
Erich considered the best reply. âBecause I suspect that my father would not approve.â
âWhy on earth not? It is a very