Nature's Hand and Faces

Rain riveting the ribbed, metal Quonset serving as an emergency room was so deafening that the MD and I sought shelter in the back of a double-roofed field (‘cracker box’) ambulance.

We left the doors open to watch the road, the storm, and to let the smoke escape, smoke from local greenery we had rolled in a yellow Zig-Zag and incinerated.

A med battalion jeep carrying a litter, a man and someone on the litter fought gravity, sliding and swerving up the sloppily mudded hill toward us, flashing its brights.

The doc, jeep driver, G.I. boyfriend and I got the soaked canvas litter cradling the very pregnant woman into the Quonset just as the storm blew out our electricity.

Each of us dedicated one hand to holding a candle, while our free hands served to deliver the baby girl without complication or incident.

Ten minutes later in the flickering glow of four candlepower, two medics a doc and a new father stood with silent, streaking tears at the miracle of such an innocent’s birth in the fury of a paralyzing monsoon, less than 10 miles from the DMZ.