Free Angel of the Night by Jackie McCallister

Just as he was translating “Jabol” from the chatty auto parts man on the other end of the line into “Do you bowl?” Jack McClaren put the note in front of the frustrated Private Washoe.
    While the sudden silence on the phone in Louisiana was probably explained away by the auto parts man as an occupational hazard of trying to communicate 9,000 miles away, the reality was quite different. Henry read “Kitcavage is awake” on the note and disconnected without meaning to dump the call. Henry grabbed the much smaller Jack McLaren in a bear hug, hoisting him in the air as if he were weightless.
    “Put me down, you big oaf!” McLaren said with a smile. Everyone who worked within the confines of Kabul Air Base knew about the vigil that the big man was holding for his fallen friend. McLaren was only too glad to have been the one who had the chance to pass on the happy news.
    “Sorry, McLaren,” Henry said. “But I’m sure that you liked it better that I picked you up than do the other thing that I thought of doing.”
    Henry punctuated his last sentence by puckering his kips and taking a threatening step toward McLaren…who promptly shrieked and ran out the door.
    Henry wanted to leave for the medical center as soon as possible, but he didn’t want to tell his C.O. that there was an auto parts man in Louisiana who was waiting for a call that would never come. So a brand new call was placed to northwest Louisiana, and the transaction to get the transmission part was completed after a brief apology from Henry about the “dropped call.”
    Henry went into the next office, intending to see if it would be okay to leave work an hour early. His C.O. while pleased that Kitcavage was apparently improving, needed Henry to stay to the end of his shift.
    “We’re backed up here, Washoe. You know that. Having Kitcavage laid up is putting a strain on us all. See these?” he said, holding up a pile of papers that was easily two inches thick. “These are requisition forms asking for everything from toilet seats to a computer motherboard for a jet engine. Stay until 0100 like your schedule says. Kitcavage will keep.”
    Henry knew that his boss had gone above and beyond in letting him take three days off. And the C.O. was right. Without Kitcavage, everyone who worked in supply had to step up his game. Henry went back to his own office, still anxious to leave but satisfied, nevertheless, that his friend was awake. That had to be good news. He was sure.
    As it turned out, Michael Kitcavage’s waking up was good news. It didn’t mean that he was out of the woods, but it was a step in the right direction. Only time and his kidney function would tell the tale of whether or not the young man would be able to resume his career. Henry Washoe finally got a chance to visit his friend the day after Kitcavage had awakened. There was a five minute time limit for visitation in intensive care, but that was enough time for Henry to see that his friend was both truly awake, and truly recovering.
    Wendy was working an extended shift, covering for a fellow nurse who had developed a bad reaction to a vaccination. In addition to the standard shots that the soldiers and support personnel had to endure before going to Afghanistan there are a number of other shots that either needed to be taken for the first time, or boosted occasionally, while in the country. Among these are injections for Hepatitis B, Malaria, and Yellow Fever. First Lieutenant Annie Beck had taken ill as a result of her Yellow Fever shot and would be off work for several days. Hence Wendy was at her post for a little over 11 hours. While she was working, Wendy received a message that Private Henry Washoe wanted to see her as soon as she was free.
    “Oh dear,” she thought. “I hope Michael is doing okay.”
    Wendy knew that the news was good as soon as she saw Henry. Having only known Henry for a few days Wendy didn’t know that the lines on his forehead and between his eyes