It wasn’t more than an hour after that when I was on the operating table for the infected fragments of my thumb had to be cut away and if the arm was to be saved at all other surgical work was necessary. As to the success of these operations it is only necessary to say that I still have my arm and my hand, though it is thumbless. For a long time this right arm of mine was a useless appendage dangling from my shoulder. But week by week it became more like a living member of my body. When I was given an anæsthetic for the major operation, I suddenly got the absurd notion of counting--counting from one to nineteen. Well, it was “20” before I woke up. When I did so it was to find myself squeezing for dear life the hand of the nurse beside me. As I batted my eyes she said: “You bad boy, you’re hurting me.” “I thought I was in heaven holding the hand of an angel!” I gasped at her, not making much of a success, however, of this attempt to be gay. But she chuckled--the nicest softest chuckle you ever heard. “That,” she told me, “will be sufficient of your blarney.” Then I had a long sleep. And when I awakened I was weak as an infant and for days fed like one--hot milk out of a bottle from a baby’s tube affixed. They told me afterward the fight for my life was a hard one--on one or two occasions desperate. I know myself there were times when I thought the fight was going to finish against me. But something happened that would brace any man. The nurse with the lovely chuckle brought a paper to me and read it, pausing to make every word clear, distinct, impressive. I could feel new blood racing into my veins at every word. For she read to me the order of recommendation for the decoration of Lieut. David Fallon with the Military Cross as sent out from my Battalion Headquarters, forwarded to Field Marshal Haig at Grand Headquarters, approved by the great British leader, and thence forwarded for posting in all British commands. And it read: “Lieut. David Fallon, Oxfordshire and Buckshire Light Infantry. Though dangerously wounded he carried out a most daring reconnaisance and gained much valuable information. He set a splendid example throughout.” I don’t think science would have failed me. But if it were going to, here was the magic cure. CHAPTER XX HONORED BY THE KING There would be little gratitude in me if I did not set down in this story of my experiences the delightful kindnesses and unremitting attentions which came to me after, on the score of a fighting man, I had become useless to my country. For the country certainly wasn’t ungrateful. Famous surgeons were giving attention constantly to the thorough healing and saving of my arm, there followed constant treatments to destroy the paralysis which afflicted it, treatments which promise in time I shall have the use of it restored.