Jedao eyes the storm and returns his attention to the next soldier in his triage. Critical but able to be stabilized. "Don't talk," he tells the patient as he wraps the man's head. The helmet's cracked in pieces nearby. It may have saved his life. "Pray silently. God'll still here you." Jedao doesn't believe in God, but he believes in not making the injury worse.

Though he doesn't hear it, for some reason that gets a laugh.

"They called in for 'copters. All we can do is treat them and wait. We can't walk these guys back to the unit."

Which happens first, the storm or the transportation, is out of their hands.