You can read part I here

Steve T. kept watching me through his rearview mirror and asking me how I was doing. I had stopped jonesing for breath and wondered if Steve was intentionally trying to keep me awake. While I felt I could indeed doze away, I had no trouble at all staying awake when needed.

Another medic and Steve T. put me between them and mostly carried me into the building and medical station. Coming down the long hall in the opposite direction was our Flight Surgeon stepping out smartly to answer a distress call.

“Poor bastard, I hope he’s alright. Er, No. Wait … that’s me; I’m the poor bastard!”