Rowing back to M&M proved much harder than rowing to Turtlehead. Howard and Paul were rowing against both wind and tide. Toby switched with Howard when the boat reached mid-river; Paul, being so much younger and stronger, had more endurance and stamina, and did not have any issues. The other things that changed in Howard's longboat was everyone else. All the M&M'ers got undressed, everyone removing their shorts, the women adding their tube tops to the pile of shorts behind the rowers.

When they got to the beach, several men came out and helped everyone out of the boat, emptied it of all the non-boat related items, and with Howard and Paul, turned it over onto the saw horses. Before everyone left, Gunnar had something to say.

"I just want to thank everyone for your hard work, your dedication, and your flexibility in the face of adversity. Good job...no! Excellent job, everyone!! Now, recharge those medical kits for the next person and the next time. Hannah, Patricia, if I know Angel, she had those kids do a complete inventory, counted every bandage, measured every gauze roll, ten times by now. But if she hasn't, please do so, and check the bags. I'll be up shortly to finish, and recharge my kit. Paul, stay with me, please!"

As everyone but Howard, who was checking the underside of his boat for any damage, moved out to finish the medical job, Paul stuck with Gunnar. As the rest of the team worked their way up the hill, Gunnar walked a bit slowly.

"How are you feeling, Paul? You certainly rowed a lot more than everyone. And considering everything else that's gone on, since the Senior Board meeting this morning; the Q and A session during the Annual Meeting, which I found impressive, buying second-rate bricks; John Hamilton can't complain too much about that. Then the wind storm; getting people from camp into the pavilion. Performing first aid; rowing to Turtlehead; the search and rescue; aiding in delivering a baby. No, don't shake your head. You helped with that in more ways than you can imagine. And then rowing all the way back. You've had a full rich day."

Gunnar and Paul topped the hill, and started walking across the parking lot toward the pavilion breezeway. Gunnar nodded his head and continued.

"Now I'm sure you've heard the adage 'No good deed goes unpunished!' I didn't want to tell you this, but it's better coming from me. The crowd down there," he pointed down High Noon Street, "is outside Tent Fifteen and Seventeen...your tent! Seems a large branch came down and..."

Gunnar did not get to finish. Paul started running down the street, trying to see over the heads of the crowd standing in the road. Some were already dispersing, as if whatever was happening had happened and was now over.

Paul saw Harry and Larry, each wearing a leather smock, safety glasses and work boots, their chainsaws cutting into the last of the branch, which looked like a small tree itself. Several other men, and a few of the more athletically inclined women, were rolling away large fresh cut logs and setting them at nearby firewood racks. From what Paul could see, more than a few campsites were going to enjoy a nice wooden firepit over the rest of the weekend.

Paul's belongings, mostly books, some pots and pans, his cooler with all his food, and the materials to build camp toilets were already sitting on the picnic table, or near it. Kate and her cousins (or were they siblings? Paul could not remember) were holding up the roof of his tent. Frejdis was just coming out through the front flap with his pillow, wool blanket, and dragging what was left of his air mattress behind her. He could see where there were holes in several of the seams. There was no saving that.

When Frejdis saw Paul, she called to him. "There isn't much left in there, Paul. Your bookcase was pulled over, but looks intact. I have your laptop here." She held it in the same hand with his pillow. "The globe to your propane lantern will need replacing, as will the air mattress and the tent, obviously." Paul could see from where Harry and Larry were standing, cutting up the last of the branch, if he had been taking a nap, he most likely wouldn't have gotten up from it. All he could think was 'No good deed, indeed!' as he put his shoes on the picnic table bench with his tent belongings.

Before he noticed her, Martha was by his side. She put her arm around his shoulders and gave him a squeeze.

"Thank God you weren't in there. I wouldn't know what to do or say had we lost you! I'm glad you're okay; unharmed, safe and sound!" Looking at the remains of the tent, she said, "We'll have to get you another one. I'm just not sure if we have any spare ones in the storage lockers."

Paul knew without looking that there weren't any spare tents or air mattresses. Everything was out and set up at every site. He knew because he and Howard pulled everything out and put it all up over the last few days.

Before anyone could make the offer, Frejdis said, "Of course, he'll stay with us. With the twins doing a sleep-over with their friends, Gunnar and I have more than enough room for one more. Besides that, he'll want to be close to his stuff, not that anyone would steal anything."

Martha knew from experience that once Frejdis said something, it was pretty much a done thing. Aside from replacing the tents and air mattresses (there was not anything in the McKendals' tent except for two air mattresses), and a replacement globe for Paul's lantern, everything was just as it should be. Paul was set for the night, maybe the whole weekend, and there were no injuries.

Paul checked over the few things that were on his picnic table, the laptop was undamaged, his text books, notes for his as yet unwritten Master's thesis. He opened his cooler and checked on his food. He pulled the water release plug, letting out icy water that had collected at the bottom. He would need to bring another bag of ice to replace what had melted. That was the really important stuff to him. Everything else was not as important, or at least it did not seem to be anymore. Most of his things were out on the table, untouched by any but himself and Frejdis. He took a few minutes to take stock of the whole situation. Seeing that there was not much more to be done he made his way to the pavilion to turn in and recharge his medic's bag.

* * *

Gunnar watched Paul run down the street, now barefooted and bare-assed, for a few moments before continuing across the parking lot. He felt for the young man. If what Martha told him on the phone was even half true, the young man was in for a nasty surprise and the feeling of a huge setback. But Gunnar had a few things to do: recharge his doctor's kit, check the inventory for what might be low or need replacing, find the man whose shoes he borrowed, and after all of that, figure out what he could do for Paul.

The nurses had been busy. They worked in pairs, having done this at their respective hospitals dozens of times. They counted everything, checked, and rechecked each other's work, leaving Toby and Angel to take notes and write down the counts of bandages, consumable items, tools used, items in need of repair, or replacement, etc. When Gunnar got there, Terri and Patricia took his backpack, counted everything, refilled it, and accounted for what was transferred from the bins. When Paul showed up, his medic's pouch received the same treatment. Final adjustments were made to the lists, and presented to Gunnar, who looked it over, nodding his head, and said, "Next trip through a First Aid department at the drug store, I'll purchase these refills."

Frejdis and Howard came in, Howard handing his S-B shorts to Patricia, who folded them and placed them with the other shorts and tube-tops. He also had one of the stretchers that the rangers were using at Turtlehead. He leaned it up against the wall next to a stack of bins.

"Some of the rangers came across in a motorboat, wanted to thank us again for helping out, asked if they had anything we didn't. All I could think of was one of those old stretchers. They had one in the boat, so they gave it to us." Looking around he saw that Angie was still there. "Angie, this one has a lot of Korean town and village names written on it. What's the meaning of that?" he asked.

Angie looked at the stretcher from where she stood between her walker and a picnic table. She thought a minute, and answered. "Sometimes the medics would set up an Aid Station, or it was carried through a MASH unit, whatever. The soldiers would print the name of a village or town, wherever the various units were, since the stretcher could not speak for itself, they wrote it on them, where those stretchers were, and when. Seems funny..." she drifted off, remembering.

Hannah was looking at the stretcher, examining the canvas covering one of the side poles. She barely made out the words 'Angel of Taegu.'

"Hey, Angie! This side has 'Angel of Taegu' written on it. Do you know who that is? Or was?"

Upon hearing that, Angie sat down hard on a picnic table seat. Her eyes welled up and tears began streaming down her face. After a few moments, with Doris and Frejdis holding her, Angie simply said, "I lost my innocence on that stretcher," and started crying softly.

Through her tears she continued, "I graduated Nursing School in the spring of Nineteen Fifty! I got in on one of those programs where the service branch pays a certain amount for your medical training and you serve a certain amount of time based on how much they paid. I graduated in May, North Korea attacked South Korea in late June, and I was in the Pusan Perimeter by mid-August, supporting the Twenty-Fourth Infantry Division. Me, two other nurses, and Doctor Roberts. Doctor Neil Roberts", she said, staring off into space, seeing his face again, after all these years.

"We were in a war zone. War does strange things with time, and emotions, and a lot of other things. I met Doc Roberts for the first time on a Thursday. By the following Friday, we were lovers, and if it says 'Angel of Taegu,' that's probably the stretcher we did it on that night...after all these years, it's come full circle." Tears started streaming down her face with abandon.

Frejdis could not help herself, and beat an equally curious Doris by a second or two.

"What happened to Doc Roberts? Neil?"

Angie came up out of her reverie, shaking her head as if shaking the memories loose.

"We worked well together. Hand in glove at the operating table, something else in something else on that stretcher." Everyone giggled some nervous laughter.

"One night the North Koreans broke through the lines not far from our Aid Station. Some soldiers quick loaded us into two trucks and a few jeeps. Doc was in the jeep just behind the truck I was in. He was working on a wounded soldier in the back seat when the road was mortared. A few rounds fell short of the road, two hit the road, and a few fell long. One of the road rounds hit Neil's jeep. One minute he, his driver, a wounded man up front, and the stretcher case he was working on in back, the next...nothing! Not even a body to bury." Her tears coming harder now, her whole body shuddered, even though Frejdis and Doris were holding her tightly.

Doris, never married herself, asked if she planned to marry Neil.

"Married?" Angie asked, "Good Lord, I don't know. We were just two people who turned to each other in a scary wartime situation; life or death, any time, some which way. I didn't want to die a virgin, and I wanted to do it before I did. I'm glad it was with Neil. It happened to be us, together. And what a wonderful, exciting, harrowing, three weeks it was."

Frejdis, still curious, "And afterwards?"

Angie shook her head. "Afterwards, I worked my shifts, and started making love with 'the bottle.' Mostly to forget, but it never worked out that way. I saw him, and those wounded men, for years afterward. I was rotated out before Christmas, but I was back at an Aid Station, then on a hospital ship spring and summer of 'Fifty-Two." She took a few well-deserved breaths and continued.

"I stayed in the Navy for a few more years after the war. I took part in Deep Freeze One in Antarctica, but when I got home later in Nineteen-Fifty-Six, I got out of the Navy, but I was only thirty-one, and still young enough to be on their Call Up list. I did three tours in Vietnam, Sixty-five to Sixty-Seven; Sixty-Eight to Sixty-Nine, that's where I met Tyler; and Seventy-One to Seventy-Two, when I went into the bottle for the second time, mostly because of Tyler. He was a sweet young thing, died way before his time. But we sure lit up those nights. I separated from the Navy when I was forty-eight in Seventy-Three, and not recallable after fifty."

Angie seemed to have pulled herself together enough to stand up with her walker and move away from the table. She stopped and looked around at the faces looking back at her. If it were not for the kids playing out in the pool, anyone standing there would have heard a pin drop. Few people knew any of this about Angie, and the level of respect by everyone in the room for her went up several fold as she walked out by the pool, and down to her bungalow.

* * *

After Angie's bombshell stories of her past, Howard and Paul got back to work making deliveries. After the storm, the day got back to hazy, hot, and humid, so there were more calls for ice than anything else. Sometimes, Howard would park the golf cart at the intersections of the camp streets, and he and Paul would grab a few bags and run up and down, going from site to site. Other times, campers waited at the intersections, and give them both a break.

Once when Paul was running to a site across the street from his own, he saw a plastic condiment jar sitting on his picnic table, that had not been there before. After making his delivery, he went over to discover that the jar was clean, the lid had its top sanded, with a slot cut out just wide enough to slip in a paper dollar bill, and a $20 and two $5s in the bottom. Taped to the side was a paper that read 'Paul's Replacement Tent and Air Mattress Fund.'

He could only shake his head in disbelief. The number of people who could have put that jar there was staggering to say the least. He did not think Howard put it there, since he was just as busy as Paul had been all afternoon. Maybe Martha, she might have had the time, and certainly the initiative to do something like that, as did Frejdis, or perhaps even Doris. While he waited for Howard to return to the intersection of High Noon and Central with another load of ice and charcoal, he saw a young girl, maybe 12 years old, tall, and lanky, wearing only an old pair of Crocs, pass by coming from the RV section of Sunset. She went up to the jar and stuck in a $10 and another $5, before running off toward the pool area.

Paul did not know her name, but remembered seeing her with her grandparents when they came in Friday afternoon. They had an RV parked in the odd numbered Sunset section, below Central Ave. They would be able to see her cross over Sunset on her way to the pool.

What surprised him was that she came back, and placed another two $20s and two more $5s in the jar, before passing by him, heading to Sunset and home.

Howard stopped right in front of him, only a few bags of ice this time.

"Only three stops, all down in the RV section; two here on High Noon, one over on Sunset. Do you want me to...?" He did not get a chance to finish. Paul grabbed all the bags, looked at Howard's cell phone for the addresses, and off he went. "I got this. See you up at the pool?" Howard yelled back "Yeah, sure!" before spinning wheels over to Sunrise. He was going to pick up Deuce and give him a ride.

Paul made his way down High Noon, dropping off several bags of ice. He crossed over to Sunset, and worked his way back up the hill. Sure enough, his stop was where the pre-teen's grandparent's RV was.

Seeing that the young girl and her grandmother were enjoying the late afternoon sun, he held the bag over his head, and asked, "Where would you like it?"

The grandmother looked up from her book. "Oh, thank you, dear! Put it right here in this cooler," she said, pointing to the long metal ice chest next to the picnic table where the girl was sitting. "There's an empty space by the food. Just set it in there as it can fit!" The girl paid him no attention, staring at the bungalow across the street.

Walking over to the grandmother, Paul asked, "Is she okay?"

"Oh yes! She's on the autistic spectrum. Bright as a penny, yet single minded in her approach. Just more socially awkward for a pre-teen, but aren't all pre-teens?"

Paul laughed more in understanding than malice, but it was half his lifetime ago when he was a preteen. Paul looked at the girl for a moment, but as he returned his attention to the older woman, he noticed a small work bench next to the RV, with an electric sander and metal punch on it. He smiled, but did not say anything. If he were right, there would be plenty of time to say 'thank you' later, if they even wanted to accept acknowledgement.

As Paul excused himself, the woman's cell phone buzzed with a text. She looked at it, and smiled. "Gracie! That was Mr. Paul. He's the nice man we are helping to get a new tent. Now, the folks at Sunrise Fourteen and Twelve just sent a text. They have some money for you to put into that mayonnaise jar. Would you get it, and put it in Mr. Paul's jar? Don't let him see you, okay?"

The girl smiled, nodded her head, and was off to her chore. After she left, an old man came out of the RV, wearing his glasses and an old baseball cap. He had a look of concern on his face.

"Betsy, is our granddaughter going to be okay?" He had been asking this question for the better part of 3 months, when they were awarded custody of their granddaughter, their own daughter arrested and jailed for possession and trafficking in stolen pharmaceuticals.

Betsy watched as Gracie rounded the corner onto Central Ave., and saw Paul as he was turning further up Sunset toward the pool.

"Of course, she will, Charlie. She's bright, and friendly. Just shy and socially awkward. But here, in this place, where people are patient, encouraging, and caring; she'll thrive. People around here care for each other. They care about her, just like we're caring for Paul. You emptied and cleaned that jar, tapped out a slot in the lid, and sanded it smooth. Showed Gracie just how easy it is to slip a bill in. I saw you with that twenty, and then Gracie put in a fiver, and I gave her another to put in. And you remember what Howard said about Paul, he'd give you the shirt off his back if he was wearing one."

That explanation satisfied old Charlie for now. Betsy knew he would ask the same question again next week. He walked over to his work bench, unplugged the sander, dropped the punch into the open toolbox, and swept the last remnants of the yellow lid into a dust pan, dropping it into a trash bag that had several ounces of nearly fresh mayo in it.

* * *

Continued in Part 2

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