World War, 1914-1918 -- Hospitals, charities, etc.
I have been thinking of that too, but I pretend not to have heard.
Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.
I spend part of the afternoon sewing pieces of waterproof stuff
together. He asks me:
"What are you doing?"
"I am making you a mask, to give you ether."
"Thank you; I can't bear the smell of chloroform."
I answer "Yes, that's why." The real reason is that we are not sure he
could bear the brutal chloroform, in his present state.
Leglise's leg was taken off at the thigh this morning. He was still
unconscious when we carried him into the dark room to examine his other
leg under the X-rays.
He was already beginning to moan and to open his eyes, and the
radiographer was not hurrying. I did all I could to hasten the business,
and to get him back into his bed. Thus he regained consciousness in
bright sunshine.
What would he, who once again was so close to the dark kingdom, have
thought if he had awakened in a gloom peopled by shadows, full of
whisperings, sparks and flashes of light?
As soon as he could speak, he said to me:
"You have cut off my leg?"
I made a sign. His eyes filled, and as his head was low, the great tears
trickled on to the pillow.
To-day he is calmer. The first dressings were very painful. He looked at
the raw, bloody, oozing stump, trembling, and said:
"It looks pretty horrible!"
We took so many precautions that now he is refreshed for a few hours.
"They say you are to have the Military Medal," the head doctor told him.
Leglise confided to me later, with some hesitation:
"I don't suppose they would really give me the medal!"
"And why not?"
"I was punished; one of my men had some buttons off his overcoat."
Oh, my friend, scrupulous lad, could I love my countrymen if they could
remember those wretched buttons for an instant?
"My men!" he said gravely. I look at his narrow chest, his thin face,
his boyish forehead with the serious furrow on it of one who accepts
all responsibilities, and I do not know how to show him my respect and
affection.
Leglise's fears were baseless. General G----arrived just now. I met him
on the terrace. His face pleased me. It was refined and intelligent.
"I have come to see Corporal Leglise," he said.
I took him into the ward, full of wounded men, and he at once went
towards Leglise unhesitatingly, as if he knew him perfectly.
"How are you?" he asked, taking the young man's hand.
"Mon General, they've cut off my leg..."
"Yes, yes, I know, my poor fellow. And I have brought you the Military
Medal."
He pinned it on to Leglise's shirt, and kissed my friend on both cheeks,
simply and affectionately.
Then he talked to him again for a few minutes.
I was greatly pleased. Really, this General is one of the right sort.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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