Black Iron’s Glory

Chapter 186 Treatment Center

Claude opened his eyes and printed them on a gray, dark roof with a human figure, with several yellow straw bars hanging in mid-air between the beam columns. This is a cabin with only four single wooden beds and a small square table, with some dirty yellow linen sheets on the wooden bed, many tubes of medicine on the small square table at the corner of the wall, some tubes empty and some full. This should be the treatment center where the medical team is located in the barracks.

My whole body is sore, my chest is very stuffy and I can't breathe a bit. I feel a little bit of movement and the bones are in severe pain regardless of which part of my body they are. Claude pushed his hand out to pull the bell rope hanging from the bed and quickly heard the crisp “ding-ding-ding-ding” bell coming from outside the cabin.

Footsteps came, stood outside the door, “creaking”, the wooden door was opened, and a middle-aged man outside in a white robe hurried in, which should be a pharmacist. When Claude looked at him with his eyes open, the middle-aged pharmacist nodded with no expression: "Wake up, how are you feeling? ”

Claude looked at him for a while and just opened his mouth and said: "It hurts all over...”

“It's normal, the inner body is vibrated, it affects the whole body, and of course it hurts everywhere. I've seen it for you, the bones are fine, just a few places with slight fractures, some cure, some cream, and you'll be out of bed for five or six days.” The middle-aged pharmacist doesn't care about Claude's injuries at all: "Compared to you, it's bad luck to have those injured by you, and they're likely to be decommissioned because of injuries and disabilities if the treatment isn't good. ”

Claude barely cracked his mouth: “I don't think I'm this good, I've been beaten, it's impossible to cause them to retire from service due to injury...”

“That's none of my business.” The middle-aged pharmacist still has no expression on his face: “My job is to keep you well fed, and it's none of my business whether you hit or maimed people or killed them directly, so it's up to the gendarmerie. ”

“But I admire your performance," the middle-aged pharmacist began to lay some tubes on a small square table in the corner of the wall, laying them out and saying, "Six veteran oils, you sent them all to my treatment center by yourself. Though you came in, you are a defeated Jew..."

Claude couldn't tell if the middle-aged pharmacist was saying the opposite. He was just trying to think back to the fight. He shook his head eventually: “I'm not as glorious as you said, I've forgotten all about it. I just remember I was getting beat up and they were fine...”

The middle-aged pharmacist stopped his move: "Are they okay? Ha..., Corporal Enger, broken wrists and wrists, he ate and drank all of Lhasa's VIPs over the next three months. If the treatment is not effective, his hands are scrapped and he can only be discharged with a disability. Sergeant James, with a vibration in his heart, three broken ribs, you only need to lie down for five or six days, he'll be at least half a month. Sergeant Luton was the worst hit by you. When the four people beat you, they said you only grabbed him and beat him, concussion, cracked sternum, broken right hand, still not awake, in a coma...”

The middle-aged pharmacist Rujiazhen said: “Of course, the worst of all, Corporal Wembley, he would not have been injured. You caught him somehow at the end of the day. You bit a large mouthful of meat directly down his neck. Fortunately, you didn't bite his aorta, otherwise he wouldn't have to send it to me, he could have sent it directly to cremation and come home in a can. I don't know how his treatment will turn out yet. Maybe he'll have to crook his head for the rest of his life and be discharged from service because of this injury.

The other two were minor injuries, and Sergeant Basek was struck by your head on the bone of the nose beam, which was broken. Corporal Federson was kicked in the calf by you and now has a limp on his stent. I really don't get it. It's just the first time you've met, there's no deep hatred. Why are you fighting like enemies? You just entered the camp, not on the battlefield, they are not your enemies... "

Claude couldn't help but laugh: “I'm sorry, I don't want to do this either. I'm just queuing for dinner. It was them who provoked me first. I can only defend myself. You can't keep me from fighting them. And at the end of the day, I've been blinded by them, and I've forgotten everything I've done, and I can't remember anything. ”

The middle-aged pharmacist looked at Claude and said, "You don't have to argue with me, you can talk to the military judge. I can only blame six of them for their bad luck. They were veterans of oil, mixed up in the barracks for four or five years. Fighting and beating their hands naturally knows how light they are. And you're a recruit's egg, you can't do anything about it, you just say hello to the point, and even your teeth are useless. This club was laughing at them, and they got into a tough part. You know, now you're nicknamed Bloodthirsty. ”

Think about it. Claude actually found out that this middle-aged pharmacist was right. When he was in a fight with those veterans, all the veterans greeted them with meaty, skinny places that were not easy to maim, very painful to beat, but more humiliating.

However, it may be because White Deer Town and the Black Snake Club are accustomed to live and die, almost all greeting each other's key points, and fortunately, the veterans have a lot of experience in fighting and have not been killed on the spot. So I used my teeth, regardless of whether I bit them or not.

As for the nickname or the nickname Bloodthirsty Claude, who doesn't care, strong speech in the barracks is the weight, and the most despised thing about the military is cowardice. There may have been this fight, and my days in the army would have been better. Normally no one will mess with himself unless he can afford to fight back.

“Lift your head up a little and drink this tube of medicine.” The middle-aged pharmacist walked to the bed with a tube of configured medicine: “Yesterday, he blew it into your stomach, wasting half of it outside. Now that you're awake, you can drink it yourself. By night, your injuries will be easier. You won't feel so much pain in your whole body. You can sit up and drink some porridge. ”

The room is bright and should be out in broad daylight. Claude lifted his head so hard that his arm was powerless that he could only let this middle-aged pharmacist take the tube to his mouth and grunt it all into his stomach.

“How long have I been in a coma?” Claude asked.

“It's been almost a day and it's 3: 00 p.m. You were sent here yesterday evening at 6: 20. We were all frightened. You looked so miserable, like you had been raped by 18 men. As a result, nothing happened except flesh wounds and minor bone fractures, and the only slightly more serious point was internal vibration. ”

The middle-aged pharmacist ignored Claude's white eyes and went on to say: "Then the six unlucky bastards were sent here too. It looks like nothing happened, but once checked, they were almost immediately sent to the infirmary. If I were later, I would worry about hiccups on the spot, and then we would have to carry a charge of bad treatment...”

Claude closed his eyes and pretended he didn't hear anything. After all, the more serious the middle-aged pharmacist said about the wounds of the six veterans, the more worried he was. No matter how honest he was, the consequences were unexpected and he just didn't know how to punish himself and the six veterans.

“Okay, you take a break, get some sleep, change your meds at night, and I'll feed you another bowl of porridge. If something is wrong with your body, pull this bell string.” After that, the middle-aged pharmacist went out.

Perhaps the pill I just drank had a sleeping ingredient, and Claude just lay down for a moment and felt sleepy and fell asleep very quickly.

By the time he woke up again, an oil lamp had been lit in the cabin, and Claude found three more people in the room, one being the middle-aged pharmacist in the afternoon, and the other being his assistant, also wearing a white robe outside his uniform, looking like he was in his twenties, a medic. Another lieutenant officer, holding a black briefcase in his hand, stood there quietly, as if it were a piece of cold ice, breathing a breath of invisibility.

“I knew you'd wake up at this time.” The middle-aged pharmacist was proud to say that it was obviously showing the timeliness of the drug he was configuring in the afternoon: “How did it feel? ”

Claude took two big breaths: “Seems a lot easier and his chest isn't that dull. My whole body still has some pain, but I feel it would be better than that in the afternoon, I can tolerate this pain..."

The middle-aged pharmacist nodded and couldn't help but think: “Belle, go and help him get some more, then go to the kitchen and get his sick meal. ”

Turns out the young medic came to care for him. He took a long neck wooden jar from under the bed, lifted the thin carpet on Claude's body, pulled down Claude's underwear without hesitation, and blew a long whistle in front of Claude, the middle-aged pharmacist and the cold lieutenant officer: “Big fella...”

In Claude's angry eyes, this young medic named Bell picked up Claude's big guy, stuffed him in that long-necked wooden jar, and smiled at Claude: "Don't be grumpy, man, I've seen so much, in a few years in the barracks, you can take off your clothes without embarrassment in front of everyone and take a bath in broad daylight. Besides, this guy below you has a lot of weight, worth showing off in front of everyone, envy those earthworms for life..."

Claude is unable to move now, leaving it to others to do so, because of his nervousness and shame, so he can't come out. So this medical soldier named Bell made a good understanding of the whistle of "Shh shh shh”. It really worked. Not long ago, first of all, the middle-aged pharmacist couldn't stand it. He shouted “Grass, I just got over it and wanted to pee...”

As the middle-aged pharmacist went out, the cold-blooded lieutenant officer also seemed a little unbearable and followed him out. Then, in the whistle of Beldewestern, Claude leaked a thousand miles and pulled half a can to make it convenient.

After pulling Claude's underwear up, he put a blanket on it, and Bell said, "Dude, lay tight, I'll get you some porridge. ”

After that, go outside with the long neck of the wooden jar.

Claude's head was blank and he saw Bell opening the door to go, which was why he shouted: “Remember to wash your hands before serving me porridge...”

Bell clamped at the door and hurried to hold the door handle, which did not spill the piss inside the long neck wooden jar onto the floor.

“I know, I'll go wash my hands after pouring this, and finally I'll bring you porridge...”

A little while later, the middle-aged pharmacist and the cold lieutenant officer returned to their room. Even if they were both convenient, there seemed to be nothing to say, and they were both in the house with their faces on.

The middle-aged pharmacist came to Claude, opened his mouth, vomited his tongue, examined his teeth and asked several questions. It seemed that Claude did recover well and that he was awake, so he turned to the cold lieutenant officer and nodded, suggesting that he could go up and talk to Claude and back to the small square table on the corner of the wall and swing up the medicine tubes on the table.

The cold lieutenant walked up to Claude's bed, knowingly asking, "No way. It's a procedure:" You're Claude. Fields? ”

“It's me," replied Claude.

“I'm Judge Billichland. Lieutenant H. Sderry, I have been instructed to investigate this canteen fight.” This cold lieutenant said.