was a vampire, Mary,living in his huge castle high in the mountains of Brasov, sucking the blood of his innocent victims.
Mary was suddenly aware of a deep silence in the room. The class was staring at her. How long have I been standing here daydreaming? she wondered. She hurriedly continued her lecture. “In Romania, Gheorghiu-Dej was consolidating his power in the Workers’ Party…”
The class seemed to go on endlessly, but mercifully it was almost over.
“Your homework assignment will be to write an essay on the USSR’s economic planning and management, describing the basic organization of the government organs, and the CPSU control. I want you to analyze the internal and external dimensions of Soviet policy, with emphasis on its positions on Poland, Czechoslovakia, and Romania.”
Romania…Welcome to Romania, Madam Ambassador. Your limousine is here to drive you to your embassy. Her embassy. She had been invited to live in one of the most exciting capitals of the world, reporting to the President, being in the center of his people-to-people concept. I could have been a part of history.
She was roused from her reverie by the sound of the bell. Class was over. Time to go home and change. Edward would be back from the hospital early. He was taking her out to the country club for dinner.
As befitted an almost-ambassador.
“Code Blue! Code Blue!” the crackling voice sounded over the loudspeaker throughout the hospital corridors. Even as the emergency crew began to converge on the ambulance entrance, the sound of an approaching siren could be heard. The Geary Community Hospital is an austere-looking three-story brown building perched on a hill on St. Mary’s Road in the southwest section of Junction City. The hospital holds sixty-six beds, and has two modern operating rooms and a series of examining rooms and administrative offices.
It had been an unusually busy Friday, and the ward on the top floor was already filled with injured servicemen who had come to town from nearby Fort Riley, home of the 1 st Infantry Division, known as The Big Red One, for their weekend R and R.
Dr. Edward Ashley was sewing up the scalp of a soldier who had lost a bar fight. Edward Ashley had been a doctor at Geary Memorial Hospital for thirteen years, and before going into private practice he had been an air force flight surgeon with the rank of captain. Several prestigious hospitals in large cities had tried to lure him away, but he preferred to stay where he was.
He finished with the patient he was working on and looked around. There were at least a dozen soldiers waiting to be patched up. He heard the sound of the approaching ambulance siren. “They’re playing our song.”
Dr. Douglas Schiffer, who was tending a gunshot-wound victim, nodded. “It looks like M*A*S*H in here. You’d think we were in some kind of war.”
Edward Ashley said, “It’s the only war they have, Doug. That’s why they come into town every weekend and go a little nuts. They’re frustrated.” He finished the last stitch. “There you are, soldier. You’re as good as new.” He turned to Douglas Schiffer. “We’d better get down to emergency.”
The patient wore the uniform of a private, and he looked to be no more than eighteen years old. He was in shock. He was sweating profusely and his breathing was labored. Dr. Ashley felt his pulse. It was weak and thready. A splotch of blood stained the front of his uniform jacket. Edward Ashley turned to one of the paramedics who had brought in the patient.
“What do we have here?”
“A knife wound to the chest, Doctor.”
“Let’s see if his lung is collapsed.” He turned to a nurse. “I want a stat chest X ray. You’ve got three minutes.”
Dr. Douglas Schiffer was observing the jugular vein. It was raised. He looked over at Edward. “It’s distended. The pericardium’s probably been penetrated.” Which meant that the sac that protected the heart was filled with blood, pressing
Mary was suddenly aware of a deep silence in the room. The class was staring at her. How long have I been standing here daydreaming? she wondered. She hurriedly continued her lecture. “In Romania, Gheorghiu-Dej was consolidating his power in the Workers’ Party…”
The class seemed to go on endlessly, but mercifully it was almost over.
“Your homework assignment will be to write an essay on the USSR’s economic planning and management, describing the basic organization of the government organs, and the CPSU control. I want you to analyze the internal and external dimensions of Soviet policy, with emphasis on its positions on Poland, Czechoslovakia, and Romania.”
Romania…Welcome to Romania, Madam Ambassador. Your limousine is here to drive you to your embassy. Her embassy. She had been invited to live in one of the most exciting capitals of the world, reporting to the President, being in the center of his people-to-people concept. I could have been a part of history.
She was roused from her reverie by the sound of the bell. Class was over. Time to go home and change. Edward would be back from the hospital early. He was taking her out to the country club for dinner.
As befitted an almost-ambassador.
“Code Blue! Code Blue!” the crackling voice sounded over the loudspeaker throughout the hospital corridors. Even as the emergency crew began to converge on the ambulance entrance, the sound of an approaching siren could be heard. The Geary Community Hospital is an austere-looking three-story brown building perched on a hill on St. Mary’s Road in the southwest section of Junction City. The hospital holds sixty-six beds, and has two modern operating rooms and a series of examining rooms and administrative offices.
It had been an unusually busy Friday, and the ward on the top floor was already filled with injured servicemen who had come to town from nearby Fort Riley, home of the 1 st Infantry Division, known as The Big Red One, for their weekend R and R.
Dr. Edward Ashley was sewing up the scalp of a soldier who had lost a bar fight. Edward Ashley had been a doctor at Geary Memorial Hospital for thirteen years, and before going into private practice he had been an air force flight surgeon with the rank of captain. Several prestigious hospitals in large cities had tried to lure him away, but he preferred to stay where he was.
He finished with the patient he was working on and looked around. There were at least a dozen soldiers waiting to be patched up. He heard the sound of the approaching ambulance siren. “They’re playing our song.”
Dr. Douglas Schiffer, who was tending a gunshot-wound victim, nodded. “It looks like M*A*S*H in here. You’d think we were in some kind of war.”
Edward Ashley said, “It’s the only war they have, Doug. That’s why they come into town every weekend and go a little nuts. They’re frustrated.” He finished the last stitch. “There you are, soldier. You’re as good as new.” He turned to Douglas Schiffer. “We’d better get down to emergency.”
The patient wore the uniform of a private, and he looked to be no more than eighteen years old. He was in shock. He was sweating profusely and his breathing was labored. Dr. Ashley felt his pulse. It was weak and thready. A splotch of blood stained the front of his uniform jacket. Edward Ashley turned to one of the paramedics who had brought in the patient.
“What do we have here?”
“A knife wound to the chest, Doctor.”
“Let’s see if his lung is collapsed.” He turned to a nurse. “I want a stat chest X ray. You’ve got three minutes.”
Dr. Douglas Schiffer was observing the jugular vein. It was raised. He looked over at Edward. “It’s distended. The pericardium’s probably been penetrated.” Which meant that the sac that protected the heart was filled with blood, pressing
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