The Private Jessica Lynch

摘要

Forty steps. Each one is a gamble: lift, lunge, tilt, then land with a stab of the foot she can't feel. The soldier who came out of Iraq on a stretcher and back to the States in a wheelchair can now, seven months later, take 40 steps by herself. Each one is a victory. It's getting dark and cold in this part of West Virginia. But here in rehab the lights are bright and Jessica Lynch is in shorts, a baggy T shirt and sneakers from Wal-Mart that are a half size too big, to make room for the brace that keeps her left foot from dragging. "Good, Jessi, that's good." Physical therapist Burt Reed seems about twice her size as he holds her steady so she can practice walking forward and backward between the padded tables and weight machines. For just a moment, you can imagine they are dancing. And then the time comes when Reed steps back and she's on her own, as if she's walking a wide tightrope, careful, dangerous. "Good, Jessi"―her hands are fists, her jaw is set―"keep going," and you sense she is counting the steps under her breath.