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Message: <blockquote data-quote="The Shaman" data-source="post: 2716059" data-attributes="member: 26473">The mayor and the sister-in-law have left the clinic when the paras return to the lobby. It’s quiet now, the crowd gone, the UTs walking off the streets of the colonial town.“Now what?” Ortu asks Sgt. Katsourianis as the Sardinian swings a wooden chair around and sits down, resting his arms and head on the backrest.The section leader glances at his big chrome chronograph. “The lieutenant said to bring the wounded here. We still need to get Gaspard and Mador looked at, then we’ll head back to camp.” Kat reaches for his canteen. “Szabo’s section was going to make a patrol of the surrounding farms to look for more fellaghas. I don’t expect they’ll be back for awhile.”Taking a long pull from his canteen, the sergent continues, “We may not be done yet, so make sure you’re ready to go back out. I’m going to see about refilling these.” He holds up the canteen, then pushes through the double-doors leading to the examination rooms. The weary paras methodically check their gear.Asmussen is assigned to collect canteens and fill them when Kat returns, carrying the section radio slung over his shoulder. After this is done, the Greek sergent steps outside to talk with Nedjar and the others standing guard, leaving Normand, Pyotr, and the rest of the section to wait in the lobby: Asmussen seated a chair, his rifle held upright beside him; Syrovy, slumped in a chair in the corner; Ortu, sitting on the floor, back against the wall, head on his chest asleep.The room is quiet when Marcel emerges from the double doors.</blockquote>

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