My Home in the Field of Honor Part 22

At that same instant a shriek rose from the interior of the hotel.

Looking up I saw that the proprietress and her two daughters had disappeared.

"_Au secours! Au secours!_"

The boys and I made a rush for the house. As we entered the _grande sale_, we saw a man bearing a human form in his arms staggering through the door. Through the blood and dust that smeared the unfortunate boy's clothing, I recognized the uniform of a cha.s.seur. Not even an emergency bandage stopped the stream that was flowing from his cheek.

"Quick--a mattress!" I shouted.

The proprietress stood as though nailed to the doorway leading to the kitchen.

"Is he wounded?"

"No matter--a mattress!"

"But he might soil it--"

"Then I'll pay for it--but for the love of heaven, be quick!"

Just then the boy's head lurched forward and the blood poured from his mouth. Leon jumped to help the old man who was holding him, and I had just time to catch the proprietress as she swooned on the floor.

"Put the boy on the billiard table and stuff this blanket under his head," I said, grabbing the article mentioned from the top of a bundle near by. "Come in here!" I called to the two daughters who were blubbering in the next room, terrified at what they had seen. "Come in here--lay her flat, loosen her clothes, and dash some cold water over her. She's not dead and I've no time to bother with her."

While others laid the wounded man out on the table, I rushed for my emergency case which I had fortunately thought to bring along.

With a sharp pair of scissors, I cut away the b.l.o.o.d.y garments and with a little warm water washed my patient so I could see what was the matter.

He was but half conscious, and his eyes rolled wildly and his hand grasped mine and wrung it in agony.

I discovered a tiny cheek wound and was congratulating myself that perhaps the bullet had lodged in the flesh, when on turning his head gently to one side, I was almost nauseated by the terrible wound that greeted my eyes.

Either a Mauser pistol or an explosive bullet fired at but short distance had entered the cheek and gouged its way through the lad's head, carrying away part of the ear and well--let us not go any further.

"Is there a doctor in the place still?" I called to the cook who stood looking in at the door. "Run and see if you can get him--for I'm incompetent here. Quick! It's life or death!"

And while she was gone I stuffed cotton and iodine into the tremendous cavity, hoping to stop the hemorrhage. As I bandaged, I questioned the man who had brought him.

"Where did you pick him up?"

"Amillis--a mile and a half from here. The Uhlans fired into me, too, when they saw me help him. Look at the sole of my shoe! They're following close on behind."

I stepped to the window. "George and Leon! Quick! Drop everything.

Hitch and get out of here like lightning! I'll follow in this man's cart. Hitch and I'll tell you where to go."

Frica.s.seed chicken and rabbit stew were forgotten and I could hear my people running wildly about the court, obeying orders.

The doctor appeared. I explained. "Shall I unbandage?"

"Useless."

"Then don't say so out loud, as he's not yet unconscious."

The poor fellow gripped my hand as proof. The physician blushed scarlet.

"I'll give him an injection of ether and then you take him in your cart to the nearest hospital--it's Provins--twenty miles from here."

He jabbed in the needle, and then handing it with a phial to me: "Here--take this. I'm clearing out. Got a wife and baby to save. Keep his heart going--there's a ghost of a chance. Adieu!"

I stood petrified.

"Take him away, I'm closing up! Take him away--" screamed the hostess, who had recovered from her swoon.

I looked at the old man who had brought the boy.

"Where are you going with your cart?"

"To Coulommiers--to save my sister-in-law and her children."

"Good G.o.d, man! Can't you see that if this boy was wounded at Amillis your road to Coulommiers is cut off!"

"It may not be."

"There's no time to argue. My wagons are full to overflowing. Are you going to let this boy stay and be finished by the Germans, or are you going to let me put him in your cart and drive to a hospital?"

"But Provins must be occupied by this time. It's east of here."

"I never had any intention of going there. I'm heading for Melun."

"Melun?"

"Yes."

"Good heavens! That's seventy kilometers! My poor sister-in-law! My horse!" wailed the old fellow.

"Now then--one, two, three--" said I, gently patting my Browning which I had drawn from my outside pocket. "Will you do it gracefully? That's right. Now stop your crying. I'll release you as soon as I can find someone else to take me on. The important thing is to get out of here and quick! It may be too late now."

The boys had fetched a mattress, had found pillows and a sheet, somewhere, and gently we laid the dying man on the old farm cart.

"You boys take your bikes and go ahead. Tell the refugees you meet to pull to the right and not enc.u.mber the whole road. We're rushing a wounded man to the hospital. When I think you've got the way clear I'll drive on full speed. Tell our carts to head for Melun and keep on going till they get there. I can't bother with them. We'll meet at the first bridge over the Seine."

They departed, and climbing in beside my patient, who writhed in agony, now lurching from one side, now rolling to the other, I tried to make him as comfortable as possible. All the other carts had departed ere we got away, and my tearful driver kept on grumbling and lamenting.

Two hundred yards from the hotel, where the road makes a sharp turn, we halted abruptly, for we had come upon a group composed of my boy George and three French cha.s.seurs. Two were on horseback, their naked swords glittering in the sunlight; the third on a bicycle--and all three, as well as George, were shrieking excitedly at a phlegmatic Tommy Atkins who, seated on a milestone, was calmly smoking his pipe. Behind him, his horse was peacefully nibbling gra.s.s. At the sight of my armlet and the agitated white sheet in the wagon, the cha.s.seurs approached in haste.

"What have you got there? Our comrade, Ballandreau?"

"Yes." (I had seen the boy's name in his military book.)

"Is he dead?"