After telling Sara to hide the car, Owen helped Swager into the house.
Putting Swager down on the bed, Owen took scissors and cut open his shirt. There was blood everywhere on his upper body, and the wound wrapped with gauze was soaked with blood.
Owen removed the gauze from the wound, and Swager, who was in a coma, frowned in pain.
Owen looked at his injuries. No wonder he was still alive. Although he was shot twice, both shots were in the shoulder and did not hit the vital points. He also stopped the bleeding himself, so he was able to persist until now.
Swagger had already woken up when Sarah parked the car and came back, but this was actually worse because Owen had to clean his wounds next.
Owen took out a rolled cloth bag from his backpack and spread it out. Inside was various surgical tools.
This is the U.S. Army's standard battlefield medical kit, which contains various hemostatic drugs and simple surgical tools. He is no stranger to wound treatment, having received special training during his SAT days.
Owen took out a small compressed air tank and said, "I'm sorry, I can't get anesthetic, so I can only use this instead."
"What's this?"
"Carbon monoxide."
"I hope you can move faster and sew it better for me."
"I'll try my best."
Swagger took a breath of carbon monoxide and passed out completely. Irving began to cleanse him quickly. Sarah couldn't help much, so she lay by the door and watched.
The tweezers in Owen's hand searched the wound, while the forceps in the other hand held alcohol cotton and kept dipping it in the blood flowing out of the wound.
With Owen's movements, Swager's expression showed pain. After all, carbon monoxide could not replace anesthetics. It could only make him pass out, but it could not relieve his pain.
Pieces of alcohol cotton balls were dyed red and soon formed like a hill. Sarah frowned and helped change two basins of blood water, and finally found the warhead.
Owen held the two warheads with pliers and threw them into the basin with a crisp sound. Owen once again confirmed that no warhead fragments were left and then began to sew.
The curved needle quickly shuttled through the skin under the operation of the tweezers. The surgical threads tightened the skin on both sides of the wound, and finally joined together. The blood flowed out less and less, and was finally sealed in an ugly scar.
within.
Fortunately, Swager had done a good job in stopping the bleeding for himself, and it had not yet reached the point where he needed a large amount of blood transfusion, otherwise Irving would have been unable to recover.
After all the sutures were completed, Irving gave Swager a bottle of saline solution and antibiotics, and then sat on the sofa nearby to rest.
He was very tired after all the operations. This kind of delicate work consumes a lot of his mind, and his attention always needs to be in a state of high concentration. A debridement is no less than a high-intensity qb game.
Swager finally woke up at night. The carbon monoxide was not enough to make him comatose for such a long time, but coupled with the body's self-protection program, he did not wake up until this time.
"The FBI revealed some information about this case to this station. According to surveillance camera footage in Los Angeles, the suspect, Gunnery Sergeant Bob Lee Swagger, had visited multiple places to find shooting locations and record wind direction data.
Although the police are still intensively searching for him across the country, they have not yet found any trace of him. The police remind citizens to close their doors and windows, pay attention to whether there are strange people and vehicles around them, and call 911 for help if they have clues...
The news on TV is non-stop and is broadcast 24 hours a day. The assassination of the presidential candidate has been a hot topic in these two days. Almost every TV station and various media are vying to report it.
A squealing sound.
"Are you awake?"
Owen was watching the news, but Sarah next to him noticed that Swager had woken up.
"How does it feel?"
“Very bad.”
"The pain is normal because we didn't use anesthesia."
Owen chuckled. He touched Swager's forehead and found that the fever was gone. He couldn't help but smile and said: "The fever has subsided. It seems that the first debridement surgery in my life was done well. Don't worry, you
He is recovering and will recover soon..."
Swager was noncommittal and looked at Owen: "I remember you, which policeman are you?"
"Yes, Zhongchen Building, you saved my life, but now you are not a policeman, you are a tu..."
Swagger nodded, "Thank you for trusting me."
If Irving didn't believe him, he might be dead or on his way back to Los Angeles by now.
Owen shrugged and then asked: "Of course I believe you, but man, you have to tell me what the hell is going on?"
Swagger licked his dry mouth, and the attentive Sara immediately handed him a straw. After drinking a sip of water, he said: "A few days ago, a black colonel named Isaac Johnson
They came to me and said that someone was premeditated to assassinate Democratic presidential candidate David Palmer through sniping, and asked me to be a technical consultant to find the most likely sniping point."
"According to the information they provided, David Palmer will give a total of three live speeches in Washington, Los Angeles and Baltimore. The other party is likely to choose to take action during the live broadcast."
"I have visited all three places on the spot. There is not enough space in Baltimore and the streets are narrow. It is even more impossible in Washington. Unless the murderer is not prepared to live after doing it, doing it in Washington is equivalent to committing suicide."
"Then, the only three places left are Los Angeles. And sniping is only possible from 1,800 meters away. In this process, the bullet will fly for about 5-6 seconds, so it can only be done after the opponent stands on the podium and does not move.
Best shooting opportunity."
When it came to his professional field, Swager was eloquent. Seeing everyone looking at him, he continued.
"The target person must have been wearing a body armor during the speech, so he could only shoot in the head. So if you want to hit the target 1,800 meters away, you must use a large-caliber weapon, and it is likely to be a homemade bullet..."
"Why homemade bullets?"
It can be said that Owen knows nothing about sniping, but he still feels unclear about it.
"Using homemade bullets, the ballistic coefficient will be slightly lower and the wind resistance will be smaller. Even after the bullet has traveled more than 1,800 meters, it is still more powerful than the bullet fired by the .44 Magnum pistol.
Dead people are no problem."
So that's it, Owen nodded, sniping is really a great subject.
"You think this is the end? No, it's much worse. The troublesome thing when shooting is the wind direction. If the distance is too far, even the slightest prestige can do bad things.
He must set up a pointer between the podium position and the shooting position. It is easier to adjust the speed, but the angle correction involves the principle of trigonometry. The shooter must complete mental calculations in an instant, otherwise it will be very difficult to hit the target with one shot."
Owen was greatly surprised. It turned out that all the preparations were not finished. Whether he could hit the enemy or not still depended on the shooter's reactions.
This requirement is too high. No wonder it is very difficult to train a sniper. According to this requirement, not only does it require a lot of training, but the selection of the shooter itself is very demanding.
"According to you, even if they are fully prepared, not many people in the United States can successfully hit the target, let alone a direct headshot?"
"Indeed, so the direction we need to check is very clear. The other party's shooting point at that time should be at the bell tower of the church, which is about 2,200 yards away from the venue. As long as we find out who can accurately carry out cold shooting from 2,200 yards away, we can find it.