A short burst of automatic gunfire was what announced to us the start of an hour-long gun battle about a kilometer away from the hospital. It was around 8 in the evening when the fighting started. You could hear different sounds apparently from different caliber of guns. Sometimes a big blast would occur, which was a grenade going off. We made sure all windows and doors were shut and that we were ready for any possible trauma patient. After what seemed like a long time the fighting stopped and we could hear APCs and Shimites rumbling away. The following morning people started walking toward the area of battle and we were told that the army had an encounter with a Moro separatist group.
After several episodes of this kind of noise from different distances we got used to life in a rebel infested area, and a gun going off didn't warrant our attention anymore.
On one occasion a gunshot rang out on the road not far from behind the hospital, after which I saw a man running with a pistol in his hand. He rushed up the hill in front of the hospital and disappeared from sight. About several minutes later a bloodied man assisted by some guys arrived and they said that he just got shot by the guy who ran past the hospital. No one had the courage to examine the guy before bringing him in, because the bleeding was from a tear in his shirt right over the heart and at the left sleeve, and they feared that he was doomed.
After the patient's shirt was taken off I noticed 3 gunshot wounds: one exactly over the heart at the left chest, one at the left upper arm over the biceps muscle and the third wound at the left elbow. All the wounds had minimal bleeding by now. I asked how many times he was shot and the patient said that he was shot only once. With a little sleuthing I discovered that the slug - a 45 cal bullet, first entered the left elbow, slid along the humerus bone, exited at the upper portion of the biceps and struck the chest. A little probing of the wound in the chest uncovered the slug, which was sitting against a rib. The bullet was extracted and the wounds closed, and the lucky guy walked home for another chance at life.
Another gun story is about a dehydrated Iranun man who was having gastro-enteritis. He had to be given a fast drip of IV fluids to restore his condition and it was apparent that his treatment had to last until the next day. As the night approached his wife came to me and said that they had to go home. She explained that they couldn't stay in the area because they didn't feel safe here. I understood what she meant, because the Christian community was just behind the hospital and that was too near for comfort. I handed her the bill and she said that they didn't have the money on hand to which I replied that the patient could go home only if they left something of value as collateral for their bill. She conferred with her husband and then the son left. In a while he was back with a sack containing a vintage Enfield rifle similar to the one below. That gun stay in the hospital over night and they redeemed it the next day.
Transactions similar to this in a hospital are only possible in places like Landasan. Guns apparently still played a vital role in this society, something akin to the Wild West in the history of America.
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