Gone to War (A Bucky Barnes FanFiction)

Chapter Eight

|| August 1943. France ||

The ward was rushed with a blitz of wounded soldiers being rushed in by their fellow soldiers. Blood has been spilled through the cracks on the floor, as it painted the porcelain tiling on the hospital floor. Clean hands were stained red with the blood of those who got injured on the field. Men had been shipped to the hospital as the war heated up in a foreign country.

Ophelia wiped her hands of the metallic blood and reached over to steady a young soldiers hand, as she tried to take out a bullet that he had gotten shot with. He screamed in pain as she plunged a pair of tweezers into his open wound. She fritter her teeth as if she felt the pain. Ophelia poured alcohol on the wound as he gripped the sheets of the blanket below him with his life. She handed him a clean cloth telling him to bite down on it. He listened to the young nurse, his screaming was now muffled. She took this moment to fish out the bullet in his arm. The bullet moved in his arm as she did this procedure blindly, finally grabbing it and placing it in the trey next to her. It clinked on the glass as the soldier looked to it in pain. Ophelia poured some hot water and cleaned the wound, bandaging it up. She looked to the young soldier, his eyes young, younger than her. Grabbing a cloth she wet it down and cleaned the dirt and blood off his forehead. He seemed shocked by her kindness act, tense at her touch, but soon eased into her touch. He was relaxed in her presence.

Time seemed to go by quickly. Ophelia spent her days tending to the needs of the soldiers in the hospital. She was a source of joy for these men who were far away from home. Trying her best to be the best she could, she gave them the best attention she could, which often gave her trouble with her superiors. The men she helped needed that motherly comfort, some did cry for their wives or mothers while in her care. Most nights she would hear them from afar, wishing she could take their pain away and giving them a sense of home and belonging.

Ophelia found that she fit in with the other nurses, most were unmarried single women who did the same as her, ran from whatever problems from home, to help with the war efforts. The other girls wanted to flirt and hang around the soldiers who were doing better then most in their ward, but Ophelia stayed with those who had nothing. The men who were broken and beat from everything they had come to know.

She learned of the horrors of war through the men who experienced it. She saw things she never thought she'd ever see or hear in her life. Ophelia was shocked at what vile and evil things that men could do, the things that humans can be capable of doing. At night she would have nightmares of these horrors, seeing the blood and pain of the world, all the loss and suffering.

"Rowland!" Colonel Charles yelled as he walked towards the young nurse. Ophelia was cleaning the burns on one of her patients, who was unconscious most of the time. But she kept a close eye on him.

"Colonel Charles?" She turned to him, standing from the side of the bed. "What can I do for you?"

"This letter came for you." He handed her a letter with her name on it. She recognized the handwriting, it was Bucky's. "Along with orders from up high." She looked up to the Colonel. "They want me to take a group of nurses Italy lines." Colonel Charles leaned in, "I want you to come with me."

"Me? Why?" She huffed. "There are so many eligible nurses here, why me?" Ophelia asked.

Colonel Charles put his hands behind his back, "The war is raging in Italy, there are men who need your touch. Your hospitality is something those men need. They need you." Ophelia turned to the men around her, the ones wounded in beds.

She nodded her head, "When are we to leave?"

"Tonight." Ophelia took a breath, "I know it's on short notice, it's best for you to get yourself ready, we leave at ten." He told the nurse. She nodded her head. "Maybe Uh..." he laughed a little, his face red, "when we get there, and you have a free night, maybe we could... go for dinner?" Colonel Charles smiled to her

"You flatter me Colonel." She smiled to him.

"Is that a yes?" He asked, his eyes bright with admiration for the young nurse.

"Maybe." She teased smiling as he nodded his head, leaving her to get back to work.

Ophelia had grown to like Colonel Alexander Charles, he was a young man who was ranked up through the war after all his superiors had died in battle, leaving him as Colonel as no one was left to take the mantle. Colonel Charles wasn't much older then her, only by two years. He was the first patient Ophelia had when she first arrived in the France Hospital. She was nervous about doing his check up, but he was kind with her, even after loosing all his fellow soldiers. He stayed in the hospital, on Doctors orders. He took a likening to the twenty-six year old Ophelia, often taking the time to talk with her about things. Alexander Charles was someone Ophelia could confide in, telling stories of their childhoods with each other. Making Ophelia remember what she had left behind.

Standing in the middle of her room, which she shared with two other nurses, she collected her things into her suitcase and grabbed her coat. Ophelia looked to the unopened letter on her empty bed. The curves of Bucky's handwriting was tempting her, but she was afraid of what was on the other side of the envelope. Grabbing it, she stuffed it in her pocket of her apron, before grabbing her suit case and walking down the halls of the hospital.

|| Authors note: Sorry for the two short chapters. I promise the next ones will be longer :)) ||