#combat medic

[traceamountsoftimetravel]

I had the privilege of knowing her since 2017-18. Amazing person. She was so articulate, funny, caring, generous, gracious, and so much more. It hurt deep in my soul hearing the news via her husband. I can’t make it make sense how such pure malice can exist in the world, but Diana persevered her whole life, and was the one light in the darkness that gave you hope. For the good people in your life, it is never “Goodbye,” but “See you later.” Rest easy, Diana. Slava Ukraini.

[secteel]

“Médecin de Combat, 1848”

Wip inspired by Sister Janet Wells, the ‘Florence Nightingale’ of the Zulu War, who I partly based Nini on.

[pyrofromtf2real]

What happened to this Medic?

[headlesssamurai]

//hacksaw_ridge/ //dir_mel_gibson/2016/

[alainamama17]

Proudly served!

[mtg-cards-hourly]

Combat Medic

"Although Icatia's Combat Medics borrowed much of their knowledge from other societies, their skills were their own." —*Sarpadian Empires, vol. VI*

Artist: Edward P. Beard, Jr. TCG Player Link Scryfall Link EDHREC Link

[nanomachinez]

the first rule of diamond dogs is: you do not talk about diamond dogs

[blueiskewl]

Hero of Ukraine

The 29-year-old combat medic Yana Rychlitska has been killed in battle by the Russian Army near Bakhmut.

Rest In Peace Yana. Ukraine will never forget you're sacrifice.

[she-wolf09231982]

Chapter 1-Rosaria Marie Leone

Summary: Chicago native, Rosaria Leone (leh-OHN), was stationed in Aldourne, England awaiting further instructions to her next duty location. She finally received orders to Bastogne after the 326th Medical team was captured on their way to the town by German soldiers.

The church in the town was converted into an aid station to lodge wounded soldiers that came in from the front lines, but with medical supplies running low and shortage of medical personnel, the Americans were in desperate need of more medics and nurses to keep up with the workload. To her surprise, she finds a few silver linings by befriending a local nurse, Renée Lemaire, and Easy Company’s medic, Eugene ‘Doc’ Roe. 

A/N: OC Introduction/Rosaria Marie Leone (leh-OHN), EugeneRoeX!FemMedic, WW2, Character introduction, Post D-Day, She/Her Pronouns, Military Terminology, Band of Brothers References, Mentions of Weaponry, Smoking, Mentions of death, Blood, Medical Terminology, Italian and French with English translations

Story takes place during Episode 6-Bastogne

*These stories may not fall entirely in accordance with the TV series timeline. I do not know the real soldiers the actors portray in this series, so please understand I show no disrespect. Some or most of historical events and character interactions in my fanfics are fabricated purely for the sake of the enjoyment of fiction*

~~~~~~~ 

Bastogne September 1944 

“Rosaria Marie Le-Leeee-on-” the charge nurse, Agatha Hannigan began with difficulty, as she looked over her spectacles at the orders given to her by the young woman standing before her. 

“Leone.” The young lady articulated. She was used to people mispronouncing her last name. 

The older lady’s lips pursed into a thin line, clearly displeased with being corrected by a replacement. She scribbled a few things on the orders. The charge nurse looked back at the young woman, scanning her from head to toe with every ounce of disdain behind her eyes. 

“Why are you wearing soldier’s fatigues? Where is your ward dress uniform? And your apron and head scarf?” Hannigan snapped. 

“This is all I ever worn, ma’am. I’m a field medic, so this is my initial issued uniform.” she explained. 

Hannigan sniffed at her, then wrote a few more notes on the orders. 

“Alright, Rosaria Leone-” 

“It’s just Saria-” 

 “-you and Renée report to me and I report to LT Doc Ryan.” she explained paying no mind to Saria’s statement. 

Saria sighed, “Yes, ma’am.” 

As she followed Hannigan, they approached a young nurse stirring a large metal pot hanging over a pit in the fireplace. The smell of the steam proved it wasn’t any kind of food she had been mixing but used bandages that were being laundered. 

“Renée-” Hannigan bellowed. 

The girl turned upon hearing her name. She met the charge nurse and Saria halfway as she dried her hands on her apron. 

“-this is our new nurse, Rosaria Lenonni, just in from Aldourne.” Hannigan introduced. 

Saria rolled her eyes but remained silent, not bothering to correct her again. 

Renée extended her hand, “Bonjour! (Hello!)” she greeted in French. 

“Ciao. (Hello.)” Saria returned in Italian with a warm smile shaking Renée's hand. 

“You speak Italian?” Hannigan asked. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Hm, a lot of good that’ll do you here. You do know you're in Belgium, right? Renée, you got her from here.” Hannigan snipped, waving her hand as she walked away. 

“Oui. (Yes).” Renée replied turning back to Saria, “-Don’t mind her. You’ll get used to her.” she whispered with a grin. 

“I’m sure.” Saria responded. 

“Viens avec moi (Come with me), I’ll show you around.” Renée gestured to Saria to follow her. 

~~~~~~~ 

December 1944 

The months flew by and before Saria could blink, a layer of snow covered the grounds in and around Bastogne. She quickly befriended Renée and the other Congolese nurse, Anna. Together, they worked side by side tending to the wounded, and endured the aftermath of what happened outside of the Church/aid station when soldiers were brought to them. The horrors of blood and gore came in overwhelming waves, but Saria, Anna and Renée worked through the carnage as a team to do what they needed to do to save the men that were brought to them.  

More often than not, soldiers have succumbed to their injuries because medical supplies were becoming scarcer. There was very little of everything they needed, and it seemed more and more men were being brought to them daily. They were unable to evacuate the wounded or receive medical supplies due to heavy German advances. Not only did the Germans prevent escape for the injured, but they also captured the 326th Medical team and integrated them into their own medical team to tend to their wounded soldiers.  

“Lost another one today.” Renée said to Saria as she sat next to her on a pew against the wall. 

Saria shook her head, “Seems to be happening more often, doesn’t it?” she acknowledged. 

“Peut-être (Perhaps).” Renée replied as she reached into her apron pocket pulling out a half-wrapped bar of chocolate. 

She removed the paper and broke off a piece, handing it to Saria. 

“Chocolat?” she asked. 

Saria looked at the candy in Renée's hand and smiled weakly as she took it from her. 

“Merci.” Saria thanked. 

“Prego.” Renée returned in Italian, “Your French is getting better!” she added. 

Saria laughed, “You don’t have to be nice about it, Renée, I know it needs work.”  

“No, I insist! Your practicing is paying off, mon ami (my friend).” Renée encouraged. 

“Well thanks to you.” Saria pointed out. 

As they sat there enjoying the sweet treat, a handful of soldiers came in with an injured man on a stretcher, as a medic walked in after them. 

Renée and Saria rushed to the men with the injured soldier. 

“No, no. Here. Put him here.” Renee instructed. 

“Yes, ma’am.” the head soldier carrying the stretcher obliged as they lifted him onto a bed. 

“Is he bad?” Saria asked the medic. 

“No, lower-leg wound. No morphine.” he replied in a deep calm voice. 

Renée took a quick look at the right leg then nodded. 

“I’ll get more bandages.” Renée relayed to Saria. 

Before Renée could leave the medic was following her, “Nurse, have you got plasma I can--?” 

“Wait. Please.” Renée urged before disappearing into another room. 

The medic furrowed his eyebrows, discouraged by Renée's response. Saria felt a wave of guilt for him.  

She looked back at the soldier on the bed that they just brought in, “What’s your name, soldier?”  

“They call me Skinny.” he responded with labored breathing. 

“I’m Saria. We’ll get you squared away, ok?” She reassured him with a warm smile. 

He nodded with a forced grin since he was obviously in pain. She covered him with a blanket and turned to the same medic standing alone in a doorway watching Anna pack a thigh wound of another soldier while Renée assisted. 

The medic turned to Saria, “Hey, what’s going on here? Why aren't these men being evacuated?” 

Saria was a little taken back by his dismayed tone. 

“We can’t evacuate. We’re cut off, this is far as it goes.” she replied as she side stepped him to get to Renée and Anna. 

~~~~~~~ 

Renée and Saria had returned to Skinny with a bottle of liquor and a glass, pouring him a hefty amount to drink as a pain remedy. 

Skinny looked up at the two nurses then looked at the medic, “I think I’m in heaven, Doc.”  

The medic smirked briefly. 

As Renée and Saria began walking away, the medic called after them, “Nurse-” 

“This way.” Renée said, as she motioned him to follow. 

The medic walked along side Saria while they followed Renée to the rear of the church where all the supplies were being stored at an extravagant altar. 

“I need Morphine. I need bandages. Whatever you got. We’re down to nothin’.” the medic explained. 

“Ok, I can give you a little, but not a lot.” Renée replied gravely. 

Saria picked up a small wooden crate filled with IV bottles, syringes, and a few syrette cases. 

“You can have this today. Do you want that?” Saria asked him. 

“Oui. You got plasma?” he questioned urgently. 

“A little. Are you a surgeon?” Renée queried. 

“No. We don’t got no surgeon.” he replied with a bit of sting behind his voice. 

Saria placed a handful of torn cloth into his crate, “What’s this?” he asked, holding up the bulk of cloth. 

“From the beds.” Saria replied. 

“What, sheets?” he clarified. 

“Yes, for bandages.” 

A look of shock appeared on the medic’s face as he stared at her.��

“It does the job.” Saria said with a soft smile and a shrug. 

He nodded, placing the bandages back in the crate. 

He stood tall before Renée and Saria when they were done packing the crate with supplies,  

“Merci.” he thanked in a low honeyed southern accent. 

“Prego.” Saria responded. 

The medic shot her a look of confusion, tilting his head studying her like a puzzle. 

“Comment vous appelez-vous? (What do you call yourself?)” the man asked Saria and Renée. 

Renée looked at him, then looked at Saria expectantly waiting for her to reply. 

“Go on, this is a perfect time to practice, mon ami. (my friend).” Renée encouraged Saria. 

Saria’s eyes flitted between Renée and the medic,  

“Uh-” was all Saria could manage until she heard Renée again. 

“Tu peux le faire, mon ami (You can do it, friend).”  

Saria took a deep breath, “Je m'appelle Rosaria Leone (My name is Rosaria Leone).”  

A smile tugged at the corners of the medic’s mouth. 

“My name is Renée.”  

“I’m Gene. Eugene Roe.” 

“Where are you from?” Renée asked Eugene. 

“Louisiana. Half-Cajun. Et toi? (And you?)” he returned. 

“Bastogne.” Renée answered. 

Eugene looked at Saria. 

“Chicago.” 

His eyes widened like a deer in the headlights. 

“Oh, I thought maybe you-” 

“No, I’m American. My parents were born in Tuscany, Italy.” Saria explained. 

“I see.” he discerned. 

There was a brief silence before he nodded at Saria then turned to follow Renée to the exit. 

“Addio, Eugenio. (Goodbye, Eugene).” Saria called after him in Italian. 

Eugene turned while still walking away displaying a coy smile. 

After some time, Renée returned from showing Eugene out. Her cheeks were rosy, and she wore a subtle smile as she mindlessly stirred the boiling pot of bandages.

“Renée?” 

No response. 

“Renée?” Saria said again a little louder. 

Renée looked at her startled, “Oui?”  

Saria laughed, “You were gone for a good couple of minutes. Où étiez-vous? (Where were you?)” Saria stated. 

Renée smiled, “I caught up with our new friend to give him some chocolat.” 

“That was nice of you, Renée.” 

“You can see in his eyes he’s seen some awful things. He needed to be shown some kindness.” Renée explained. 

~~~~~~~ 

It wasn’t the last time Renée and Saria saw Eugene Roe. The second time he had visited, Renée and Saria were frantically trying to stop a soldier from bleeding out from his mid-section. As Saria tried to pack the wound where the source of the bleeding was while Gene had been wiping the blood away so she could see where the artery was. The soldier expired leaving Renée, Gene, and Saria disheartened and lost in their own thoughts.  

Saria sauntered towards the spiral staircase to the main entrance so she could go outside to get some air. Eventually, Renée and Eugene joined her. Saria sat by a pile of broken furniture in front of the church, with her face buried in her hands. Renée sat next to Saria draping an arm across her shoulders pulling her in for a side hug. 

“Ça va mon ami? (Are you alright, my friend?)” Renée asked. 

Saria only nodded; not even sure she really was ok. 

Eugene observed each of their hands. Saria’s hands, bruised with remanence of the soldier’s blood after failing to wash all of it off her knuckles and nails and Renée's hands bearing the same appearances. Renée pulled a new bar of chocolate from her apron pocket and began tearing away the paper.  

She broke off a section, nudging Saria, “Tiens, belle amie (Here, beautiful friend).” 

Saria accepted the chocolate, “Vous êtes trop gentil. (You’re too kind).” 

Renée offered Eugene the candy, but as he took it from her, he smiled. 

“What?” Renée asked. 

“Your hands.” Eugene gestured to her and Saria. Saria slowly looked up at him. 

“Our hands?” Renée reiterated. 

He nodded, “You’re good nurses.” he complimented. 

Renée looked at her hands, “No. I never want to treat another wounded man again. I’d rather work in a butcher’s shop.” 

Eugene’s eyebrows drew inward hearing her statement. 

“But your touch calms people.” he defended, “That’s a gift from God.” he added. 

Renée shook her head, “No, it’s not a gift,” she flipped her hands over to look at the back of them, “God would never give such a painful thing.” she proclaimed. 

“Renée, you don’t mean that.” Saria insisted. 

“Oh, mais je le fais, mon ami. (Oh, but I do, my friend).” Renee said with a weak smile. 

A jeep pulled up with yet another wounded soldier, “Nurse! Nurse! We need some help over here!” 

Renée looked over her shoulder, “Stay and rest awhile longer, mon ami. I’ll take care of this.” She said to Saria as she gave her an encouraging hug before she stood up and ran off. 

A moment of silence passed before Eugene spoke again. 

“Is that how you feel, too?” he asked her. 

Saria sighed, “No. I don’t.” she replied confidently shaking her head before meeting his gaze. 

“Glad to hear it.” he affirmed with a slight smile as he looked back down at the candy bar in his hand. 

Saria folded her hands in her lap. 

“Comment se porte ton français? (How’s your French coming along?)” Eugene quizzed her with a mischievous grin. 

Saria looked at him alarmed, and slightly embarrassed. She rubbed the back of her neck and began to blush. 

“Oh, uh-” she began, “-tellement, tellement (so, so.)” she replied. 

Eugene chuckled, “I've heard you do better than that.” he declared, “Tell me something new you’ve learned. Peut-être que je peux aider. (Maybe I can help.)” he offered. 

Saria felt heat rise from her collar. 

“Ce serait généreux de votre part, Eugène (That would be generous of you, Eugene),” she managed to say, “-merci.” 

“Prego.” Eugene answered modestly in Italian with a welcoming smile. 

Saria laughed aloud at his playful response. 

“Guess I could return the favor and teach you some Italian.” she suggested. 

“Sure.” Gene allotted. “Guess I’ll be heading back to the line then. See ya around, mon ami.” He stood and ran towards the jeep to hitch a ride. 

Saria watched the jeep speed off with Eugene in the front seat, saying a silent prayer to herself for him to be safe when he makes it to the front lines. 

~~~~~~~ 

Christmas Eve 1944 

The third run in with Eugene, he brought in an Easy Company soldier, with an IV already applied. As they carried him in setting him down onto a cot, the receiving medic, Jones, began hounding Gene for the man’s information. 

“Where’s his tag?” Jones looked all over the man’s person, then looked at Gene again, “Where’s his tag?” 

Eugene stared at his buddy lying on the cot unable to move. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Jones pushed. 

Eugene looked at him calmly, “Paralyzed.” he responded simply. 

“What?” Jones asked. 

Eugene sighed, “He’s paralyzed. Can’t feel a thing.” he clarified. 

Renée saw him from across the room, “Eugene?” 

Gene looked at her, his spirits lifted the moment he saw her smile. 

“Eugene.” Renée greeted him. 

“Renée-” he replied with frail delight in his voice. 

“Are you-” Renee started to ask before she was interrupted. 

“-Renée, I need some help over here!” Jones called from the back. 

“Are you all right?” Renée continued as she walked towards Eugene. 

“Renée! We need you!” Jones called again. 

She looked towards the rear of the church where Jones was then huffed in frustration. She met Gene’s disappointed expression, gave him an apologetic smile then scampered off. 

“Bonjour, Eugène.” Saria greeted. 

“Bonjour, Rosaria, mon ami. (Hello, Rosaria, my friend),” he returned with a fleeting smile. 

Saria looked Gene over, “You ok?”  

He met her concerned guise with soft tired eyes, “Oui.” he responded plainly. 

Saria gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, “Je suis toujours là, mon ami. (I’m always here, friend.)” Saria reassured him. 

He looked at her and nodded, “Merci, mon ami.” he replied managing a genuine smile. 

Saria returned a smile then proceeded past him. 

“Oh, and Eugene-” she called back to him. 

He turned to her. 

“Joyeux noël. (Merry Christmas.)” she projected somewhat cheerfully to him, sending him a wink before he could reply. 

Eugene smiled to himself, feeling that bit of warmth in his heart that he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

~~~~~~~ 

Eugene returned to the line, only to have to go back to Bastogne to bring LT Welsh to the aid station that night. Upon entering the town, everyone was in a panic, running to find cover from an imminent German air raid heading towards the town.  

Upon hearing the siren alerting the town of the attack, Renée and Saria began assisting the wounded who tolerated the ability to move to evacuate the church.  

On the other side of the town, Eugene could see the enemy aircraft approaching. He started to race towards the church to see if Renée, Saria, and Anna had been able to reach safety. As he sprinted towards the aid station, the bombers passed overhead releasing shells on every building in their wake until one hit the church, releasing a mushrooming blast from the steeple. Another bomber deploying a bigger explosive, shattered the foundation of the stone building, sending it to shambles to the ground below. 

Eugene stopped in his tracks, shielding his eyes from the piercing light from the blast. Frozen from shock and disbelief, his mind began piecing together the possibility that Renée, Saria, and Anna were still in the church during the bombing. To this thought, he began running again, pushing through the crowds to reach his friends. 

~~~~~~~ 

Eugene searched relentlessly for the three nurses. As dawn approached, he began to lose hope. He had asked everyone he bumped into if they had seen Renée, Saria, or Anna. Everyone he asked either hadn’t known the whereabouts of any medical personnel or had conflicting stories of who made it out or not.

Just when Eugene was ready to give up, he saw a familiar figure sitting on a pile of stones that had collapsed from the church. As he cautiously approached, he recognized the face of this young woman seated before him. 

“Rosaria?” He addressed the woman with strain behind his voice. 

Saria turned slowly; her bloodshot eyes met his hopeful face while tears trailed through the dirt on her cheeks. When she saw it was Eugene, her tear flow increased beyond her ability to see. 

“Eugene.” she gasped as she tried to stand to meet him. As she did, she lost her footing on the gravel. 

Eugene snaked his arms around her, pulling her into him so she wouldn’t fall forward. 

“Hey, now! Je t'ai eu (I got you).” he exclaimed. 

He helped her stand up right, pulling her square to him so he could talk to her. 

“Are you ok!?” he asked. 

“I-I’m alive.” Saria stuttered. 

Eugene kneaded her shoulders with his hands. 

“Et Renée? (And Renée?) Anna?” he dared to ask holding Saria steady by the shoulders. 

Saria looked away from Eugene and began to sniffle. Eugene waited. 

She reached into her pocket, pulling out a blue head scarf and handed it to him. He took it from her, realizing it was the same one that Renée had worn. 

He stared at the blue cloth in his hand as everything began to sink in. 

“We-” Saria tried to explain but her overwhelming anguish had her struggling to speak, “-we were evacuating as many men as we could. Renée had----gone back inside to find Anna right before the first shell dropped on the church-”  

Eugene redirected his eyes onto Saria. He swallowed hard, biting back the tears he felt building up. 

“When the first bomb hit, I tried to go in to get her...then the second one hit blocking the entrance to the church. I couldn’t get to them, Eugene.” Saria whispered, staring over his shoulder reliving the horrific scene as if it was replaying in front of her on a movie screen. 

She started to shake her head, “If I had only gotten there sooner-” 

“No,” Gene placed a hand on each side of her face bringing her attention to him, “what happened to Renée and Anna is not your fault. You hear me?”  

Saria’s tears spilled over like waterfalls.  

He pulled her into his chest, allowing her to sob into his jacket as he stroked her hair. 

“Ssshhh,” Gene soothed, “Je suis là, belle amie. Je suis là (I’m right here, beautiful friend. I’m here.)” 

~~~~~~~ 

[tentacion3099]

Ukrainian Combat Medic talks about evacuation

[mtg-smash-or-pass]

[hato-mercenary]

Wake up babe. New CLS bag just dropped.

Holy shit I have a lot more room for meds n shit in here than my old fannypack. I'm definitely throwing my drug box, a cric kit, and a ton of other stuff in here. May need to set up some more dividers in here though.

[secteel]

Young and stupid oc! I’m still hyperfixating on League Prequels help me.

[pyrofromtf2real]

Here's more of Sebastian.

[juksuart]

For the 13th day I got the word ”nurse” and I took it as an excuse to draw Mercy

[anastasiamaru]

🐶😽PetArmy Of Ukraine🐶

Pepa and Luna helps the combat medics by calming them down in times of stress.Or maybe this is the biological weapon which russian propagandists loves to talks🧐