Then I called on the chaplain, at his request. He was looking pale and peaked but his courage was good. He was a fine fellow with a lot of stuff in him besides common sense. He did not make me feel shame-faced by “plastering it on” about my bringing him into our lines, nor make any fuss over me at all, for he understood. It was just what he, or any other decent man, would have done under similar circumstances. Later the colonel sent his orderly to bring me to his office. He was another sensible man! I stood at attention and saluted. “You are looking fine, Sergeant,” he said, “and I am glad to see you looking so fit!” “Yes, Colonel,” I answered, “a flesh wound should not keep a man tied up long. I am ready for duty now.” “Sit down,” he invited me; and just then Muddy rushed in and made a fuss over me; he had been living with the colonel since I had been tied up by my leg. “I have good news for you, that I may as well tell you now,” he continued. “The French general has recommended you for the _Croix de Guerre_.” “I’d be glad to get one,” I stammered “if they think that I really deserve it, Colonel.” “Oh, I think that’s all right,” he replied. “You did a good act and saved a good man. The regiment couldn’t spare its chaplain.” “Yes,” I said, “the chaplain is a brave, good man. I hope that doctor he is under won’t starve him as he did me, the other time I was hurt.” “I don’t think he will,” said the colonel, smiling as though amused at something. Then, after a pause, he continued. “There is a possibility that I may be given a higher command than this, and in that case I may wish you to serve with me.” “I shall be glad to serve you, Colonel, in any place I can fill,” I answered, rising and saluting. I felt pretty good. Had it not been undignified and my hip still hurting a little I would have ran and jumped. It was part of the system of our Expeditionary Force in France that, every four months, soldiers were to be granted a few days’ leave and though I had been in the service much longer than that time, I had not yet asked for one. The surgeon strongly recommended that I should take a permission, in order to recuperate before going to duty again. Jot suggested that he also get permission and go with me. “Where shall we go?” I said. “I should like to go where I can get a good swim.” “Just the thing,” said Jot, “I have been recommended to go to a place on the south coast--a watering place; they say it is fine.” It was so arranged. At this time our army in northern France were holding a sector in the world’s great battle where our regiment, with other American and French forces, faced the German army at the peak of a German salient. At some points the American positions were maintained in the shell holes that pitted the battle ground; and I felt guilty at leaving my comrades when I felt myself fit for duty and there was fighting to be done. I was ordered to report to the colonel and receive instructions.