By the time he reached the evac area, the floodlights were on and the chopper had landed. Coming in from the dark around the back of the evac guiding Edwards was dazzled by the sudden lights. The Huey, low and glistening, its rotors still whirling, sat like a toy exactly in the middle of the arc lights. Its crew chief and co-pilot were already in the open hatchway unstrapping the litters from their carrying hooks. Edwards watched unseen while the corpsmen hurried out to the chopper to off-load the patients. The choppers usually came in about 10 in the morning, but when a bad burn was evac'd to Japan, they were born in the same night. Burns are a very special kind of wound, and no physician anywhere wants the responsibility of caring for them, not even for a little while. For openers, burns look bad and the patients die.

"Each of the next of kin listed in the deceased 201 file has already been visited by a survivor assistance officer. This was done in person by an officer in uniform from the nearest army unit. Every effort is made to pick an officer from a similar racial and economic background. These families have already been convinced of the death by either the presentation of personal effects or the relating of an eyewitness report from a member of the deceased's unit. You need not convince the deceased's relatives. The point to remember is that the survivor assistance officer has been there before you and the next of kin have already accepted the death."

He was standing in the reflected glare of the landing lights, with the windy noise of the chopper rushing past him.

"Sir. Sir?" one of the corpsmen was shouting above the whining of the motor. "One of 'em's got a head wound, the other is just burned."

"Call the neurosurgeon," Edwards shouted back. He gave the empty chopper one more look and then followed the medic into the air evac area. By the time he reached the building, the medics had placed the two litters on the movable stretcher racks and one of them, working on the patient nearest the door, was already setting up an IV.

"He's OK, Major," the air evac sergeant said. "The head injury's over there."

"One hundred and seventy," the corpsman said as Edwards approached the litter. The wounded soldier, his head wrapped, was lying unconscious on his back, with the blood pressure cuff still wrapped around his arm. "I figured I'd leave the cuff on, sir. He don't look too good."

"I'll give you that," Edwards said. He began to unwrap the gauze from around the patient's head. The boy was breathing; other than that he looked dead. Edwards pinched his neck, but there was no response. As he unwound the gauze it became wet and then blood-soaked. Now he was down to the four-by-four surgical pads, and finally to the wound itself. Carefully he lifted up the last pack. Despite himself, he closed his eyes.

"He's 47 per cent burned." the sergeant said, reading the cover sheet of the soldier's medical record. "Took an AK round a little in front of the right eye. Removed the right eye, traversed the left orbit, removing the left eye and came out near the left temple, apparently blowing out the left side of his head."

"Don't worry. I'll be careful, Bob. Honest, I'll be careful. . . ."

"Send him to neurosurgery," Edwards said. "We'll treat his burns up there."

"An IV?"

"No, just send him up."

He walked across to the other wounded trooper. The corpsman had just got the IV started.

"Sorry it took so long, sir," he said. "Hard to find a vein."