A WOUNDED SOLDIER

Star (Christchurch), Issue 1125, 19 December 1914, Page 8

A WOUNDED SOLDIER

(By A. NEIL LYO?

Tho wounded soldier lay in his bed: a sumptuous bed, situated in a silent, lofty room and richly found in silk and down and cambric. These comforts had been freely given to the wounded soldier by a grateful Government —at somebody else's expense. Some private person's expense. I was privileged to shake hands with this soldier, and then to sit at the loot of. his bed and talk to him; an experience which I greatly valued, because I had been reading a number of newspaper "interviews" with wounded soldiers, all of which performances struck me as being extraordinarily unreal and unconvincing. It is ill arguing from the particular to the general. I will ( therefore, merely stato that my wounded soldier was quite unlike the wounded soldiers of the Sunday Press, being—for one thing—without a sense of drama.

He sat up in bed, wearing a garment of bright, pink flannel and looking, on the whole, extremely well. Tins was strange, because-he had been very thoroughly wounded. He had, in the' urst place, been struck on the ltnee and arm. oy shrapnel, and while ho was lying helpless on the ground an ammunition or transport waggon had passed hat way, crushing his ribs, smashing his collarbone and gen zing his face. Tho bits had been carefully collected and brought to hhigiand, where they had been put together again, and now they sat up in bed, bright-eyed and cheerful, ana exuberant. They give d me heartily, .stretching out a hand which gripped my own wan a heaiuness and vigour which can still be felt in three fingers. Private Dodd was a robust, roundfaced, smiling fellow the Saxon type—-blue-eyed, fair-haired, fair-skinned. I judged him to; be more than middle heignt and some thirty years old. He had a thick, well-grown moustache, which was evidently an object for which he entertained regard. He constantly stroked it witii a-quick and character is-' tie gesture of the litind—first the right hand, then the left—as if to assure himself of its continued existence. His utterance was qu.ck, clear and emphatic. But ho had a habit of repeating his speeches, for tho shell which had smashed his arm and led had also destroyed his hearing (not permanently, it may be hoped) and he hnd already lea nit," that deaf man's trick of repetition. When he shook hands with me and when the feeling of numbness which followed upon that operation had partly subsided and I was able to experience other sensations, 1 became conscious of an idea that there was something wrong With the soldier's hand. There was, m fact, nothing wrong with, it, either physically or technically. It was a fully-grown hand, and, therefore, from a geutxvl .standpoint, enormous, and it was richly illustrated with diagrams and monograms in blue, the "V of a professional tattooist. But fc" j which was most remarkable about *»• and which inspired one with that feeling of uiitaimUarity, was the tact that it had lain idle, for live weeks and iiad been continuously washed and i: .. .-Tjicured throughout that period. So one beheld the almost unique phenomenon of a human hand which had achieved the perfect degree of baiand formation which j« conienvd ;',j manual iaijour, and which yet was «3 soft and clean, if not so uniformly V-'hite, as my stockbroker's! | private Dodd. it appears, has been •'mentioned in despatches" by virtue of a trivial exploit on the held of battle, lie crawled out of the trenches and [ brought back wounded men—four of them, ono by one—on his back. One

;-.:~ked him to explain the exact signifie&nco of being " mentioned in despatches." " Oh, nothing, sir," said Private Dodd, not in any spirit of false modesty, but with the air of almost des-

S, in the " Clarion.")

perate earnestness which plain men adopt when they want to convey an abstract idea. "It's nothing, sir. A kind of a custom, that's all. There's hundreds mentioned every time. If there's any Distinguished Conduct Medals to spare, one o' them might come a fellow's way; but that am't likely, not with so" many sergeants about. They mostly gets the medals. One of our sergeants got a D.C.M. in the Bower War for sitting (which kindly read as such) between the lines. No, sir; there's no particular cop about these ' mentions'; only something for your pals to read. The chaps in the regiment will know about it, of course, and it's nice to think they know about it. A bit o' swank. Seep And if a Distinguished Conduct Medal does come your way, why that's a bit of all right, because they give you a live pound gratooty along with it." " About this shell fire, now. Was it so terrifying as the papers make out? Did the wounded soldiers feel . very frightened ?" ."No, sir." said Private Dodd, ;, 'not in the ordinary way. I say not in the ordinary way," he repeated, with that alert and searching look with which deaf men accompany these repetitions. " Imeantersay, sir," continued , Private Dodd, "a man gets used to 'em. You can't bo in amongst a thing like that continual, like, without you get used to it. I say you can't experience a thing regular without you get used to it. But where you do cop the 'orrors is wiieu you're lying wounded and can't move." (A dab at the moustache.) " They found us out when we was lying on the stretchers—me and anothei bloke stele by side. It was a accident, 1 think—l say 1 think it was a accident. .But they found us out, and then 1 did feel frightened. So did tlit, otner bloke. Heel got 'it in tho head, and they said he was paralysed for life; but he nipped off that stretcher and hopped it for shelter as quick as a rabbit. I couldn't move myself, or else I'd have acted tho same, You see, I'd had a waggon over me, besides this punch ni the leg and the smack on mo arm. And I was deaf at the time, too, owing to tho noise. So 1 had to lie there. However, nothing never touched me. I was always a lucky chap. I say I always was a lucky chap."

The wounded soldier, maiding two quick dabs at his moustache, grinned contentedly. Woiiiu ae have to go back again? Certainly he would. There was no doubt about that. They would send him hack again so soon as his ribs were mended. Ax the present moment one or two of them were still working loose. But they didn't hurt him. It was wonderful how they didn't hurt him. He sa.d it was wonderful how they didn't hurt him. (Slap-dash work with the moustache.) Would he like that—having to go back again? lie wouldn't mind. He wouldu t mind at all. " Vou see. sir," said Private Dodd, " there's more peace for a man out there- at the front. They don't mess vou about the same as they do here. It's all right lyinc snug in a place like this. The King hisself could not wish for a better lite than tins. 1 say the King hisseif could not wish lor a better life than this. But this wont last lor ever. I've got on wonderful since Ivo been 'ome: me leg better, me arm better, mo face better, me dealness nearly .■one.'' (Vou had to shout at the top of your voire to make him hear two words.) '• Soon mo ribs'll grow togetner once again, and then they 11 have me out o' This and send me back to duty. Back to Aldersbol or Salisbury Plain or Colchester. 1 don't want none o that. I'd rather go back to the iront. Thev ain't so regimental at the iront. i'hey don't-"Wos a man about so much' 5