“Medic!” Owl screamed. He shuffled out of the gunfire and into the narrow doorway and cradled his comrade, whose skin was cool as marble.
“No, no, no,” he cried. “Where’s that sawbones?”
Raccoon dove into the alcove as a thick yellow cloud drifted across the battlefield. He got to his knees and clucked his tongue.
“Doc ain’t coming through that,” he said throwing a thumb back over his shoulder. His seasoned eye looked over the mournful scene. He knocked the dust from his pants.
“On your feet, private,” Raccoon said, warmly. “We can’t let them damn Jerries take this village.”