Vanishing Ambulance

Silence soothed my soul as I ambled through camp, a secure sector in Belfast Ireland during the eighties. One ear listened to the emptiness in the air as the other remained cognizant of the absence of radio static; signifying this Officer of the Day had successfully supervised the previous three hours without incidents required his authority or advisement.
As lightening slices through the sky during a thunderstorm, the alarm resonated through the radio. “Officer down, medical assistance requested E54.58. N5.93”.  Rushing toward the gate, choosing to accompany the ambulance, and mentally questioning what officer would be on Shackleford Road mid-day. . Rounding the corner in less than five seconds, the parking area was empty; authorization had not been requested for the emergency response ambulance to leave the secure area, under the circumstances its absence was heart-stopping. Avoidance of my gaze was paramount, anxiety escalated; my voice maintained the training class calm and aloofness, “Where is the ambulance? We have injured and can’t deploy without an appropriately equipped vehicle.”  Tension was palatable as I waited, finally a single courageous voice stated, “Lieutenant Smith commandeered it and Corporal Dinger (affectionately known as Corporal No Nonsense) at 8:45 Sir.”  “WHO! Never mind call MT for an ambulance”
      Entering my ever ready land rover I was a mere 300 yards ahead of the ambulance and fire team (soldiers deployed for protection against unknown enemy).  Arriving at the down vehicle, confusion continued; medical personnel and vehicle were not usually targets, if an officer was down, where was he?  Quickly moving from the operational ambulance, medics found an officer in the back unconscious. Failing to discover visible injury, immediate administration of sulfur revived the officer; who assured the medics he had not been injured. I was speaking with the corporal trying to ascertain the situation when the newly revived Lieutenant rounded the ambulance as I opened the driver’s door. The officer speaking with less aloofness than expected, “What can I do to help?”
    Corporal Dinger responded in an unexpectedly calm voice, “You grab this leg and I’ll hop around to the other ambulance.”  His sarcasm was not wasted on me, unfortunately; my assistance was limited until my laughter ceased.
    My required interview with Corporal Dinger and Lieutenant Smith later that day, revealed details that alleviated confusion and inspired bewilderment.  Dinger’s foot had been amputated and career defunct, as a direct result of Smith’s poorly planned recreation that day; and his own failure to inform the officer of the day of another officer’s request.
    Dinger’s escapade unfurled like an action packed film. Lieutenant Smith arrived at the gate and ordered him to drive him in the ambulance down Shackleford Road. Several blocks from camp the Lieutenant ordered him to stop; the Lieutenant exited the ambulance and began taking photographs. Reentering the vehicle Dinger spoke directly to the Lieutenant “anything happens to me or this vehicle, sir; I will personally come back and kill you, sir.” Moving less than 50 yards Dinger heard a loud Bang! “The bastards are throwing bricks at my vehicle again!” He quickly moved to change gears and abscond from the area, the transmission failed to respond. Dinger realized he could not feel his leg, reaching down his hand returned covered with blood. “They got me.”
“What do you mean?”
“They freaking shot me!”  Lieutenant Smith could no longer render assistance as he remained horizontal in the back of the ambulance, unconscious.
          Dinger crashed the transmission box trying to get them to a safe location, called for assistance, applied a tourniquet to his leg and remained calm until help arrived, almost ten minutes later because no ambulance was readily available. Dinger’s words as I prepared to leave still ring clear and true to me, “Sir, my career is over because Lieutenant Smith was taking photographs for his family.”
      My interview with Smith is not easily recalled, perhaps my disgust in the behavior of a fellow officer coloured my memory. Obviously, Sandhurst had failed to provide adequate training for Smith, otherwise he would never have commandeered a vehicle with requesting authorization from the officer of the day, used a ambulance for what would appear to the enemy as recon (violating the Geneva Convention),  endangered personnel for personal recreation, or fainted endangering an injured soldier.  Smith had just graduated, however; I never saw or heard from him again.