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War doctor in the city
Northern region of Afghanistan, a refugee camp.
One kilometer away is a fierce battlefield, the sound of light weapons firing is intense, and from time to time there is the sound of artillery shells exploding, as well as the roar of helicopters circling. A Red Cross flag is waving in the wind over the camp, but it is damaged and tattered in many places.
Suddenly a few local men rushed through the gate carrying a stretcher with a seriously wounded man on it, blood trickling down the stretcher to the ground, where it was trampled into the dirt.
Then the nurse with the Red Cross markings rushed out, hurriedly put the respirator in her hand over the wounded man's mouth, and waved her hand, "Get out of the way, go this way, quick!"
The stretcher was carried to a large tent with only some rudimentary medical equipment and a few small operating tables. There were several physicians standing by the operating table, mostly white-skinned Westerners, the most conspicuous was the main surgeon standing in the middle, obviously a yellow-skinned, black-eyed Oriental, a large mask blocked most of his face, and it was impossible to tell how old he was.
The tent then became busy.
The nurse carefully cut open the injured man's clothes, and then reported to the chief surgeon: "Abdominal puncture wounds, the loaded bullet should still be inside, pupil abnormality, and the pulse ......