Another death due to the North. He was only nineteen. So young. This war is getting bloodier and bloodier. I put the sheet over the man's body and say a quick and quiet prayer for his family and his soul. I do this for all the ones who have died. They fought for their country hard, and I know they must think in their spirit that they have failed. But they didn't. 

I let the doctor know that he can notify the mortician. I go over to the next patient. He has terrible burns. I tend to him and see that his name is Oh Se-hun. "He's gone." It wasn't a question. I nod. "Yes, but you need to relax, I need to treat you." I clean up his burns as best as I can, but the rest needs to be tended to by a doctor. "I'll send a doctor, I can't diagnose you, but you may need surgery. Your arm needs to be put back into place." It was limp and floppy like a dying fish gasping for breath and trying to get back into the water. 

He thanks me and I smile. "I hope you'll get better." I walk over to Dr. Lee. "Dr. Lee, patient Oh Se-hun needs your attention. His burns are bad and his arm, it may need to be put back into place." "I'll check on him. Can you notify a messenger to send a notice to Choi's family?" I nod. "Right away, sir." I find a messenger and tell him to send the news to the boy's family. "Right away. Just give me information." I give the boy's information to the messenger. I worked on two more patients and because I have to I go to the medical break room, that's more of a tent, and find something to eat. I never really had an appetite, I've always been slim, but tall. My father used to call me his beanpole. Working in the war never really helped me gain an appetite. Seeing all these dying, injured, and dead men doesn't exactly make me hungry. They say you get used to it, that it comes as second nature. But I've worked here for a year and it hadn't changed anything.

I go to the break room and grab a rations bag. The food is disgusting, but it's something in my stomach. I grab a bottle of water and I sit at one of the little tables. "Sad, isn't it?" I look up to see Ha-Yoon a fellow nurse. She's like a mother, having working in the war for fifteen years. "I know I shouldn't let it get to me." I tell her. "It's the youngest you've seen so far. I've seen a seventeen year old die." I had my sandwich hung in the air just before it entered my mouth. "I thought men had to be eighteen?" Ha-Yoon nods. "But he committed fraud, faked his age and information. He wanted so badly to be in the war." After finally chewing a bite of my sandwich I ask. "So, how did everyone find out his true age?" "His family. It was on the news of the recent soldiers that died. The boy's family came out with the truth, showed his birth certificate and everything." "Did they give him a proper funeral?" She nods. I took a sip of my water. 

I worked on a few more patients before being done for the day and heading into the assigned tent I was to sleep in and went to sleep.

****

The next day they had me move to a different part of camp, a different medical area. I talked to the doctor and he requested me to come there. I didn't get no introductions I was just rushed into the room. I couldn't see the face he was so bloody. But something seemed familiar about him, like I knew him. I checked his pulse, but it was hardly there. You could barely hear him breathing, he's dying. People were yelling, everyone was talking over each other. People were commanding me to do things, but I had no idea what they were saying let alone whose job I should do for them first.

I was given a defibrillator and was yelled to shock him. I only used one once, it was in nursing school when I was an intern. I give him a shock, but he wasn't budging. If he makes out of this alive they certainly will make sure he goes home. "Call it. Miss. Park put the sheet over his head." I knew what that meant. It meant that he's dead. I looked at his chart at his name and I gasp. No, it can't be.

I take a warm wet cloth and I begin to wipe off the blood on his face. I put a hand over my mouth to hide the loud sob that I wanted to break free. It was the same Kim Jong-in. Jong-in, my best friend. I press my shakey lips, tears dripping onto his lifeless face as I kiss his forehead and then put the sheet over his head. "I'll personally tell your parents." I whisper before wiping my tears and walking out of the tent.