How Can You Mend This Purple Heart Read Online Free Page A

comforting the haunted souls with morphine.
    A couple of hours would pass and Ward 2B would lay awash in a trembling quiet and wait—wait once again for morning.

Salute
    THE BROWN DOUBLE doors opened and closed exactly eleven times this morning. Dr. Donnolly had pushed his way in or out eight of those times. He was back on the ward from his third surgery since seven; he and Miss Berry were doing post-op checks and changing out IV bags.
    I glanced across the ward at the big-faced clock hanging above the green and white tiled entryway to the backroom; it was 11:21.
    Counting was about the only mental activity you could accomplish while in a constant drug-laden buzz. Count the squares in the windows across the ward. Count the green and white tiles around the utility room entryway. Count the number of cigarettes left in the open pack. And count the number of times someone came onto or went off the ward.
    When the double doors swung open for the twelfth time, a solemn-looking sailor in all-white dress uniform stepped through. He cautiously made his way onto Ward 2B. His eyes drifted back and forth, gaining an endlessly saddened face from the bodies lying on either side of him. Slowly rolling his Navy cap through his fingers, he made his way over to me and forced a hard grin. I didn’t recognize him. Then he smiled.
    It was William Otis Johnson.
    Bill Johnson gently placed his cap on the foot of my bed and touched my left hand. His thin, six-foot frame had an ever-present preciseness, as if he were going to snap to attention at any moment for no reason, yet he radiated with a natural, relaxed charm. He had a way of making you feel better just by being in his presence. His smile was broad and easy, with perfect teeth as white and clean as his uniform. It was the same smile I saw the evening I left him standing outside Fiddler’s Green.
    His dark black eyes sparkled even through the sudden sadness that had punctuated his slow walk onto 2B.
    â€œHello Jeremy.”
    â€œHello Bill.”
    â€œMy, my, look what you’ve done now. I won’t ask how you feel; it’s pretty obvious.”
    â€œI’m doing okay.”
    â€œYou really messed up this time.”
    Thanks for coming,” I said. “I’m just glad you weren’t with us.”
    â€œYou got that right. I knew something was wrong when you didn’t show up for muster. The chief told us about the accident. I got here as soon as I could.”
    Dr. Donnolly had made his way toward us. “Are you a friend of his?”
    â€œYes sir,” Bill replied.
    â€œHe’s very lucky. I understand one of your friends didn’t make it.”
    â€œYes sir. The chief said he died instantly.”
    â€œI’m sorry to hear that.”
    â€œThe other two…are they okay?” Bill asked.
    â€œThey’re doing well. They’re down the hall on Ward 2A,” Doctor Donnolly said. “Well, the worst part is over for your friend here. Isn’t that right, Jeremy?”
    â€œYes sir,” I replied.
    Dr. Donnolly gave Bill a quick smile and circled around him toward Ski.
    Our conversation drifted in and out with the ebb and flow of the morphine in my brain.
    â€œI think you’re in pretty good hands here,” Bill said.
    â€œYeah, I think they’re some of the best,” I grinned. “You have a great time on that tour, okay?”
    â€œIt won’t be the same without you.”
    He made a quick glance around the ward. “Don’t give them too much trouble. You take care.”
    William Otis Johnson turned away and walked back down the ward. As he approached the brown double doors, he turned sharply around, firmly placed his white sailor cap to his head, snapped to attention, and gave a quiet salute to the Marines on Ward 2B.
    Earl Ray Higgins, from his bed five spaces down, raised his right hand into the air and gave him the finger.

Keep It Inside
    THE SUNLIGHT CAME glaring through the