World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives, English
Holding my jaw, I made my way carefully to one of the horses I had
brought up, mounted, and kicked the poor brute in the ribs every step of
the way back to the wagon line. My feelings of sympathy for the animal
were completely submerged in the feeling in my jaw, my haste to get to a
dressing station, and home. For fear it would reach the Major's ears, I
told the doctor at the dressing station that the horse had kicked me. He
washed and dressed it with a bandage, but just before getting to the
wagon lines I removed it.
Here I had another hard time convincing the fellows that I was off for
home, but when they saw me go to the paymaster and draw 50 francs, they
were constrained to believe that there must be something in it, and I
was the recipient of hearty congratulations and well wishes. Forty of
the francs went for champagne and eats; I felt that this might be the
last time I would have the opportunity to enjoy the company of many of
them.
I departed next morning in the mess cart, and just before leaving I had
another send-off;--the entire wagon lines paraded and gave me a parting
cheer. Again the tears!
I arrived at Bethune, boarded a French civilian train and traveled for
five hours, reaching a junction point where, in company with a number of
wounded men who were able to walk, I boarded a box car.
The train was traveling at a funereal pace and the weather turned
sharply cold; neither the wounded nor the well men, with one exception,
had any blankets; the exception had seven blankets that he monopolized,
refusing to share an inch of them with anyone. Such unparalleled
hoggishness and meanness never went unpunished at the front, and I
resolved that he would be no exception to the rule. In order to take the
chill off ourselves, we jumped off the train every chance we got,
gathering up some coal, until we had accumulated enough to make a
fair-sized fire, which we kindled on the floor of the car; it was
necessary to shove the burning coals here and there over the surface to
avoid burning a hole through it. At one point I noticed a horse-car
filled with straw bedding for the animals, and the train going here at a
snail's pace enabled me to jump off and chuck an armful of the straw
into our car; I did this with my friend of the blankets in mind. I threw
the damp straw on top of the live coals and in a few minutes or less the
car was filled with rank, reeking smoke that fairly made the eyes water.
Up jumped the blanket monopolist, rushed to the window for a breath of
air, and while inhaling the ozone I chucked his blankets out of the car
door. When he returned to his nest, which was a nest no longer, he swore
several swears, both large and small, but he was forced to fare like the
rest of us,--on the bare boards.
All this time the pain in my jaw was gradually getting worse. A
swelling had started and I was feeling a little the worse for wear.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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