Camp

Welcome to Mud Central Station, population 137, 110 of which share 1 shower.

The camp is your standard military mobile hospital. You have your doctors and nurses who tend to the wounded. Then you have “specialized medical staff” like us ladies.

Yes, I do technically have an MD... strange as it may seem, some of the women who come in here hurt are actually disappointed I won’t be operating on them. A man as a surgeon... that’ll be the day. Most of the women tend not to respect our positions (side effect of the fact we refuse to date them) but the nurses address us as “Doctor” and the surgeons treat us with respect.

The camp is laid out in a roughly square shape. Our tent is furthest from the main buildings since we’re the least important. Hell, Major North, the CO, wasn’t even sure she wanted us here till Michael stepped out of the truck.

We’ve been here about two years now, fighting the French to kick them out of the UKSL territory they seized. The jungle is an unforgiving bitch 90% of the time and our services are almost always needed.

I think I’ve become a father 72 times since then. The human body is an amazing thing sometimes. Troop is marching down the road. One soldier steps to the side, pulls a newborn baby out of her pants, passes the kid to a runner and then keeps on marching.