I only hope that she will not see this, for she might consider it a breach2 of professional etiquette3; and I attach great importance to the opinion of this woman, whom I have only seen once in my whole life. Moreover, on that occasion she was subordinate to me—more or less in the position of a servant.
Suffice it to say, therefore, that it was war-time, and our trade was what the commercial papers call brisk. A war better remembered of the young than of the old, because it was, comparatively speaking, recent. The old fellows seem to remember the old fights better—those fights that were fought when their blood was still young and the vessels4 thereof unclogged.
It was, by the way, my first campaign, but I was not new to the business of blood; for I am no soldier—only a doctor. My only uniform—my full-parade dress—is a red cross on the arm of an old blue serge jacket—such jacket being much stained with certain dull patches which are better not investigated.
All who have taken part in war—doing the damage or repairing it—know that things are not done in quite the same way when ball-cartridge is served out instead of blank. The correspondents are very fond of reporting that the behaviour of the men suggested a parade—which simile6, it is to be presumed, was borne in upon their fantastic brains by its utter inapplicability. The parade may be suggested before the real work begins—when it is a question of marching away from the landing-stage; but after the work—our work—has begun, there is remarkably7 little resemblance to a review.
We are served with many official papers which we never fill in, because, on the spur of the moment, it is apt to suggest itself that men's lives are more important. We misapply a vast majority of our surgical8 supplies, because the most important item is usually left behind at headquarters or at the seaport9 depot10. In fact, we do many things that we should leave undone11, and omit to do more which we are expected (officially) to do.
For some reason—presumably the absence of better men—I was sent up to the front before we had been three days at work. Our hospital by the river was not full when I received orders to follow the flying column with two assistants and the appliances of a field-hospital.
Out of this little nucleus12 sprang the largest depot for sick and wounded that was formed during the campaign. We were within easy reach of headquarters, and I was fortunately allowed a free hand. Thus our establishment in the desert grew daily more important, and finally superseded13 the hospital at headquarters.
We had a busy time, for the main column had now closed up with the first expeditionary force, and our troops were in touch with the enemy not forty miles away from me.
In the course of time—when the authorities learnt to cease despising the foe14, which is a little failing in British military high places—it was deemed expedient15 to fortify16 us, and then, in addition to two medical assistants, I was allowed three Government nurses. This last piece of news was not hailed with so much enthusiasm as might have been expected. I am not in favour of bringing women anywhere near the front. They are, for their own sakes and for the peace of mind of others, much better left behind. If they are beyond a certain age they break down and have to be sent back at considerable trouble—that is to say, an escort and an ambulance cart, of which latter there are never enough. If they are below the climacteric—ever so little below it—they cause mischief17 of another description, and the wounded are neglected; for there is no passion of the human heart so cruel and selfish as love.
“I am sorry to hear it,” I said to light-hearted little Sammy Fitz-Warrener of the Naval18 Brigade, who brought me the news.
“Sorry to hear it? Gad19! I shouldn't be. The place has got a different look about it when there are women-folk around. They are so jolly clever in their ways—worth ten of your red-cross ruffians.”
“That is as may be,” I answered, breaking open the case of whisky which Sammy had brought up on the carriage of his machine-gun for my private consumption.
He had ridden alongside of it—sitting on the top of his horse as sailors do—through seventy miles of desert without a halt; watching over it and tending it as he might have watched and tended his mother, or perhaps some other woman.
“Gad! doctor,” he exclaimed, kicking out his sturdy legs, and contemplating22 with some satisfaction the yellow hide top-boots which he had bought at the Army and Navy Stores. (I know the boots well, and—avoid them.) “Gad! doctor, you should see that gun on the war-path. Travels as light as a tricycle. And when she begins to talk—my stars! Click-click-click-click! For all the world like a steam-launch's engine—mowing 'em down all the time. No work for you there. It will be no use you and your satellites progging about with skewers23 for the bullet. Look at the other side, my boy, and you'll find the beauty has just walked through them.”
“Soda or plain?” I asked, in parenthesis24.
“Soda. I don't like the flavour of dead camel. A big drink, please. I feel as if I were lined with sand-paper.”
He slept that night in the little shanty25 built of mud and roofed chiefly with old palm-mats, which was gracefully26 called the head surgeon's quarters. That is to say, he partook of such hospitality as I had to offer him.
Sammy and I had met before he had touched a rope or I a scalpel. We hailed from the same part of the country—down Devonshire way; and, to a limited extent, we knew each other's people—which little phrase has a vast meaning in places where men do congregate27.
We turned in pretty early—I on a hospital mattress28, he in my bed; but Sam would not go to sleep. He would lie with his arms above his head (which is not an attitude of sleep) and talk about that everlasting29 gun.
I dozed30 off to the murmur31 of his voice expatiating32 on the extreme cunning of the ejector, and awoke to hear details of the rifling.
We did not talk of home, as do men in books when lying by a camp-fire. Perhaps it was owing to the absence of that picturesque33 adjunct to a soldier's life. We talked chiefly of the clever gun; and once, just before he fell asleep, Sammy returned to the question of the nurses.
“Yes,” he said, “the head saw-bones down there told me to tell you that he had got permission to send you three nurses. Treat 'em kindly34, Jack5, for my sake. Bless their hearts! They mean well.”
Then he fell asleep, and left me thinking of his words, and of the spirit which had prompted them.
I knew really nothing of this man's life, but he seemed singularly happy, with that happiness which only comes when daily existence has a background to it. He spoke35 habitually36 of women, as if he loved them all for the sake of one; and this not being precisely37 my own position, I was glad when he fell asleep.
The fort was astir next morning at four. The bugler38 kindly blew a blast into our glassless window which left no doubt about it.
“That means all hands on deck, I take it,” said Sam, who was one of the few men capable of good humour before tiffin time.
By six o'clock he was ready to go. It was easy to see what sort of officer this cheery sailor was by the way his men worked.
While they were getting the machine-gun limbered up, Sam came back to my quarters, and took a hasty breakfast.
“Feel a bit down this morning,” he said, with a gay smile. “Cheap—very cheap. I hope I am not going to funk it. It is all very well for some of you long-faced fellows, who don't seem to have much to live for, to fight for the love of fighting. I don't want to fight any man; I am too fond of 'em all for that.”
I went out after breakfast, and I gave him a leg up on to his very sorry horse, which he sat like a tailor or a sailor. He held the reins39 like tiller-lines, and indulged in a pleased smile at the effect of the yellow boots.
“No great hand at this sort of thing,” he said, with a nod of farewell. “When the beast does anything out of the common, or begins to make heavy weather of it, I AM NOT.”
He ranged up alongside his beloved gun, and gave the word of command with more dignity than he knew what to do with.
All that day I was employed in arranging quarters for the nurses. To do this I was forced to turn some of our most precious stores out into the open, covering them with a tarpaulin40, and in consequence felt all the more assured that my chief was making a great mistake.
At nine o'clock in the evening they arrived, one of the juniors having ridden out in the moonlight to meet them. He reported them completely exhausted41; informed me that he had recommended them to go straight to bed; and was altogether more enthusiastic about the matter than I personally or officially cared to see.
He handed me a pencil note from my chief at headquarters, explaining that he had not written me a despatch42 because he had nothing but a “J” pen, with which instrument he could not make himself legible. It struck me that he was suffering from a plethora43 of assistance, and was anxious to reduce his staff.
I sent my enthusiastic assistant to the nurses' quarters, with a message that they were not to report themselves to me until they had had a night's rest. Then I turned in.
At midnight I was awakened45 by the orderly, and summoned to the tent of the officer in command. This youth's face was considerably46 whiter than his linen47. He was consulting with his second in command, a boy of twenty-two or thereabouts.
A man covered with sand and blood was sitting in a hammock-chair, rubbing his eyes, and drinking something out of a tumbler.
“News from the front?” I inquired without ceremony, which hindrance48 we had long since dispensed49 with.
“Yes, and bad news.”
It certainly was not pleasant hearing. Some one mentioned the word “disaster,” and we looked at each other with hard, anxious eyes. I thought of the women, and almost decided50 to send them back before daylight.
In a few moments a fresh man was roused out of his bed, and sent full gallop51 through the moonlight across the desert to headquarters, and the officer in command began to regain52 confidence. I think he extracted it from the despatch-bearer's tumbler. After all, he was not responsible for much. He was merely a connecting-link, a point of touch between two greater men.
It was necessary to get my men to work at once, but I gave particular orders to leave the nurses undisturbed. Disaster at the front meant hard work at the rear. We all knew that, and endeavoured to make ready for a sudden rush of wounded.
The rush began before daylight. As they came in we saw to them, dressing53 their wounds and packing them as closely as possible. But the stream was continuous. They never stopped coming; they never gave us a moment's rest.
At six o'clock I gave orders to awaken44 the nurses and order them to prepare their quarters for the reception of the wounded. At half-past six an Army Hospital Corps54 man came to me in the ward55.
“Take him to my quarters,” I said, wiping my instruments on my sleeve.
In a few minutes I followed, and on entering my little room the first thing I saw was a pair of yellow boots.
There was no doubt about the boots and the white duck trousers, and although I could not see the face, I knew that this was Sammy Fitz-Warrener come back again.
A woman—one of the nurses for whom he had pleaded—was bending over the bed with a sponge and a basin of tepid57 water. As I entered she turned upon me a pair of calmly horror-stricken eyes.
“OH!” she whispered meaningly, stepping back to let me approach. I had no time to notice then that she was one of those largely built women, with perfect skin and fair hair, who make one think of what England must have been before Gallic blood got to be so widely disseminated58 in the race.
“Please pull down that mat from the window,” I said, indicating a temporary blind which I had put up.
She did so promptly59, and returned to the bedside, falling into position as it were, awaiting my orders.
I bent60 over the bed, and I must confess that what I saw there gave me a thrill of horror which will come again at times so long as I live.
I made a sign to Sister to continue her task of sponging away the mud, of which one ingredient was sand.
“Both eyes,” she whispered, “are destroyed.”
“Not the top of the skull,” I said; “you must not touch that.”
For we both knew that our task was without hope.
As I have said, I knew something of Fitz-Warrener's people, and I could not help lingering there, where I could do no good, when I knew that I was wanted elsewhere.
Suddenly his lips moved, and Sister, kneeling down on the floor, bent over him.
I could not hear what he said, but I think she did. I saw her lips frame the whisper “Yes” in reply, and over her face there swept suddenly a look of great tenderness.
After a little pause she rose and came to me.
“Who is he?” she asked.
“Fitz-Warrener of the Naval Brigade. Do you know him?”
“No, I never heard of him. Of course—it is quite hopeless?”
“Quite.”
She returned to her position by the bedside, with one arm laid across his chest.
Presently he began whispering again, and at intervals61 she answered him. It suddenly occurred to me that, in his unconsciousness, he was mistaking her for some one else, and that she, for some woman's reason, was deceiving him purposely.
In a few moments I was sure of this.
I tried not to look; but I saw it all. I saw his poor blind hands wander over her throat and face, up to her hair.
“What is this?” he muttered quite distinctly, with that tone of self-absorption which characterizes the sayings of an unconscious man. “What is this silly cap?”
As an aspirant63 to the title of gentleman, I felt like running away—many doctors know this feeling; as a doctor, I could only stay.
His fingers fumbled64 with the strings. Still Sister bent over the bed. Perhaps she bent an inch or two nearer. One hand was beneath his neck, supporting the poor shattered head.
He slowly drew off the cap, and his fingers crept lovingly over the soft fair hair.
“Marny,” he said, quite clearly, “you've done your hair up, and you're nothing but a little girl, you know—nothing but a little girl.”
I could not help watching his fingers, and yet I felt like a man committing sacrilege.
“When I left you,” said the brainless voice, “you wore it down your back. You were a little girl—you are a little girl now.” And he slowly drew a hairpin65 out.
One long lock fell curling to her shoulder. She never looked up, never noticed me, but knelt there like a ministering angel—personating for a time a girl whom we had never seen.
“My little girl,” he added, with a low laugh, and drew out another hairpin.
In a few moments all her hair was about her shoulders. I had never thought that she might be carrying such glory quietly hidden beneath the simple nurse's cap.
“That is better,” he said—“that is better.” And he let all the hairpins66 fall on the coverlet. “Now you are my own Marny,” he murmured. “Are you not?”
She hesitated one moment. “Yes, dear,” she said softly. “I am your own Marny.”
With her disengaged hand she stroked his blanching67 cheek. There was a certain science about her touch, as if she had once known something of these matters.
Lovingly and slowly the smoke-grimed fingers passed over the wonderful hair, smoothing it.
Then he grew more daring. He touched her eyes, her gentle cheeks, the quiet, strong lips. He slipped to her shoulder, and over the soft folds of her black dress.
It was marvellous how the brain, which was laid open to the day, retained the consciousness of one subject so long.
“Yes—dear,” she whispered.
“Your old apron is all wet!” he said reproachfully, touching69 her breast where the blood—his own blood—was slowly drying.
His hand passed on, and as it touched her, I saw her eyes soften70 into such a wonderful tenderness that I felt as if I were looking on a part of Sister's life which was sacred.
I saw a little movement as if to draw back, then she resolutely71 held her position. But her eyes were dull with a new pain. I wonder—I have wondered ever since—what memories that poor senseless wreck72 of a man was arousing in the woman's heart by his wandering touch.
“Marny,” he said, “Marny. It was not TOO hard waiting for me?”
“No, dear.”
“It will be all right now, Marny. The bad part is all past.”
“Yes.”
“Marny, you remember—the night—I left—Marny—I want—no—no, your LIPS.”
I knelt suddenly, and slipped my hand within his shirt, for I saw something in his face.
As Sister's lips touched his I felt his heart give a great bound within his breast, and then it was still. When she lifted her face it was as pale as his.
I must say that I felt like crying—a feeling which had not come to me for twenty years. I busied myself purposely with the dead man, and when I had finished my task I turned, and found Sister filling in the papers—her cap neatly73 tied, her golden hair hidden.
I signed the certificate, placing my name beneath hers.
For a moment we stood. Our eyes met, and—we said nothing. She moved towards the door, and I held it open while she passed out.
Two hours later I received orders from the officer in command to send the nurses back to headquarters. Our men were falling back before the enemy.
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1
affixed
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| adj.[医]附着的，附着的v.附加( affix的过去式和过去分词 )；粘贴；加以；盖（印章） | |
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breach
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| n.违反，不履行；破裂；vt.冲破，攻破 | |
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etiquette
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| n.礼仪，礼节；规矩 | |
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vessels
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| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
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5
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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simile
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| n.直喻，明喻 | |
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7
remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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8
surgical
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| adj.外科的，外科医生的，手术上的 | |
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9
seaport
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| n.海港，港口，港市 | |
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10
depot
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| n.仓库，储藏处；公共汽车站；火车站 | |
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11
undone
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| a.未做完的，未完成的 | |
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nucleus
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| n.核，核心，原子核 | |
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13
superseded
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| [医]被代替的，废弃的 | |
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14
foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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15
expedient
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| adj.有用的，有利的；n.紧急的办法，权宜之计 | |
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16
fortify
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| v.强化防御，为…设防；加强，强化 | |
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17
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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18
naval
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| adj.海军的，军舰的，船的 | |
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19
gad
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| n.闲逛；v.闲逛 | |
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20
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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21
almighty
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| adj.全能的，万能的；很大的，很强的 | |
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22
contemplating
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| 深思，细想，仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 )； 注视，凝视； 考虑接受（发生某事的可能性）； 深思熟虑，沉思，苦思冥想 | |
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23
skewers
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| n.串肉扦( skewer的名词复数 )；烤肉扦；棒v.（用串肉扦或类似物）串起，刺穿( skewer的第三人称单数 ) | |
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24
parenthesis
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| n.圆括号，插入语，插曲，间歇，停歇 | |
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25
shanty
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| n.小屋，棚屋；船工号子 | |
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26
gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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27
congregate
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| v.(使)集合，聚集 | |
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mattress
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| n.床垫，床褥 | |
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29
everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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30
dozed
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| v.打盹儿，打瞌睡( doze的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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31
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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32
expatiating
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| v.详述，细说( expatiate的现在分词 ) | |
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33
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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35
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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36
habitually
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| ad.习惯地，通常地 | |
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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38
bugler
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| 喇叭手； 号兵； 吹鼓手； 司号员 | |
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39
reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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40
tarpaulin
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| n.涂油防水布，防水衣，防水帽 | |
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41
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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42
despatch
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| n./v.(dispatch)派遣；发送；n.急件；新闻报道 | |
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43
plethora
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| n.过量，过剩 | |
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44
awaken
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| vi.醒，觉醒；vt.唤醒，使觉醒，唤起，激起 | |
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45
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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46
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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47
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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48
hindrance
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| n.妨碍，障碍 | |
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49
dispensed
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| v.分配( dispense的过去式和过去分词 )；施与；配（药） | |
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50
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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51
gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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52
regain
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| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
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53
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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54
corps
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| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
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55
ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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56
busted
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| adj. 破产了的，失败了的，被降级的，被逮捕的，被抓到的 动词bust的过去式和过去分词 | |
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57
tepid
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| adj.微温的，温热的，不太热心的 | |
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58
disseminated
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| 散布，传播( disseminate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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60
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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61
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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62
strings
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| n.弦 | |
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aspirant
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| n.热望者；adj.渴望的 | |
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64
fumbled
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| （笨拙地）摸索或处理（某事物）( fumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 乱摸，笨拙地弄； 使落下 | |
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65
hairpin
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| n.簪,束发夹，夹发针 | |
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66
hairpins
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| n.发夹( hairpin的名词复数 ) | |
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67
blanching
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| adj.漂白的n.热烫v.使变白( blanch的现在分词 )；使（植物）不见阳光而变白；酸洗（金属）使有光泽；用沸水烫（杏仁等）以便去皮 | |
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apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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69
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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70
soften
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| v.(使)变柔软；(使)变柔和 | |
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resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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72
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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