"Anya, prepare to suture the wound. This part is almost finished."
"Change the basin. This basin is full of blood. Pay attention to the remaining plasma!"
Karachev in front of the operating table, just like most of the time in the past, was already concentrating and sweating profusely, and his nerves were as tense as a fuse hung on a string.
Bang——
There was a crisp falling sound as it fell into the tray, and the sound of metal colliding with metal lingered in the operating room.
This is the sixth bullet. This is already the sixth bullet that Karachev personally took out from the body of this young American on the operating table.
Even in all the field surgeries performed so far, Kalachev has never encountered a situation where six bullets have been removed from the wounded in a row and he had to continue working to save others.
The tenacity of life is clearly demonstrated at this moment. Even if he is seriously injured and bleeding, the bullets he takes out are like popcorn spitting out of a vending machine.
But the body on the operating table, this young man from the United States, has still not lost his vital signs and is still holding on bravely and tenaciously.
The wounded had become so strong that Karachev, as a doctor, asked himself that he had no reason to give up. He would persist until the last moment of his fight with death no matter what.
But just when Kalachev's scalpel was reaching for the seventh bullet wound, an unexpected and even shocking scene suddenly occurred.
"Drink - ah -"
"Wow!!!"
A little nurse, who had the shortest experience and knowledge among all the people in white in front of the operating table, was the first to be startled by this sudden scene and screamed. The tray used to hold the bloody instruments in her hand suddenly dropped.
It fell and fell to the ground with a series of metal crackling sounds.
You want to ask why?
Just look at the operating table and you will know.
The wound was still open and had not yet been completely sutured, and the unstoppable blood loss was dripping down the operating table. The wounded man, who was bleeding while receiving blood transfusion, woke up during the operation without any warning and grandly.
In front of all the medical staff who treated him, on this operating table.
"What's going on? Didn't you give enough anesthesia?"
There are cases of wounded people suddenly waking up on the operating table, but they are very rare. The probability is about the same as buying a lottery ticket. So far, Karachev has only encountered this situation once since he started practicing with his tutor in school.
number.
Karachev, who mistakenly thought that the amount of anesthesia was not enough, was about to call Anya, who was also able to remain calm, for help and quickly take remedial measures to prevent the situation from continuing like this.
However, what Kalachev never expected was that the person who suddenly woke up on the operating table could actually burst out with incredible strong willpower. God knows how much pain he could endure and still keep his nerves awake.
Then he used all his strength to slowly raise his left hand that he had been holding, and spoke to Karachev who was very close in front of him.
"Doctor, please bring this to Major Kovanov, the man who saved me here. Please."
Kalachev didn't know what the young man in front of him was obsessed with or what was important, but his bounden duty as a doctor could not allow him to choose to sit idly by and ignore the situation before him.
"Shut your mouth, don't talk. Stay calm and don't give up, and you will survive."
Looking at the doctor in front of him in white clothes, white hat and white mask, with only a pair of eyes exposed, he was hurriedly arranging the equipment and at the same time motivating himself in fluent English without looking back.
David, who looked struggling, suddenly smiled, calmly and calmly.
"Thank you, doctor, but I can't hold on any longer."
"Please. Please give it to Major Kovanov. This is my last wish. Please help me. He is the only person I can rely on. If there is an afterlife, I will definitely repay him. I will definitely repay him."
Yes, I"
"."
Wordless silence replaced all the noise of the previous second, and everything calmed down at this moment in the next second.
David suddenly woke up during the operation and struggled to leave his last words and passed away.
The only thing he did at the last moment of his life was to pass the thing he was holding tightly in his left hand to the Soviet Red Army Major whom he had known for a short time. Even though he was not sure about it, it was his only choice.
Under such circumstances, ask him to help fulfill his last wish.
"."
A fresh life passed away in his own hands again, and the evidence that once existed in this world was lying quietly on the operating table in front of him, on his own battlefield.
All efforts were in vain at this moment, and hope was ruthlessly extinguished like a candle, leaving only a wisp of smoke floating in the air.
Karachev, who understood what was happening in front of him, stopped his hurried movements and stood in front of the operating table in silence for a moment, as if he was thinking or playing with something in his heart.
At the end of the day, Kalachev chose to take the initiative to stretch out his hands. Under the gaze of the comrades fighting side by side, he gently exerted force and took out the last wish that needed to be handed over from his left hand that had not yet become rigid. It was stained with blood.
.
"I don't know, Comrade Commander, I don't know what I should do. This is the first time I have encountered such a thing. I hope I can seek help from you."
"I'm not sure whether I should hand it over directly to Major Kovanov. I think there may be something I don't know or understand. I'm just a doctor who treats patients and saves people. I don't understand military and political matters at all.
, I understand the special nature of David’s identity, and I also know that his last wish with such a strong obsession may not be simple, so I”
Karachev, who could no longer speak anymore, stopped and immediately put the thing that he had kept in his pocket since he got it. For some reason, he didn't even open it and put it on Malashenko's chest.
Put it on the desk in front of you.
It was a ball of paper, a crumpled letter paper stained with dried blood, or something that looked more like a note or a small piece of paper in terms of size.
"."
Malashenko, who was silent, did not say anything directly, but after listening to Karachev's narration, he quietly reached out his hand and picked up the wad of paper on the table in front of him, moving gently.
Then he opened and stretched it little by little until its complete content was presented in front of him.
"Did he say anything else? Just this piece of paper?"