“Are you hit, sir?”
“Yes. Nothing much—here in the arm. Get the wirers in. It’ll be light soon.”
Then somehow I found my equipment and tunic off; there seemed a lot of men round me; and I tried to realise that I was really hit. My arm hung numb and stiff, with the after-taste of a sting in it. I felt this could not be a proper wound, as there was no real throbbing pain such as I expected. I was surprised when I saw a lot of blood in the half light. Corporal Dyson asked me if I had a field-dressing, and I said he would find one in the bottom right-hand corner of my tunic. To my annoyance he did not seem to hear, and used one of the men’s. Then Owen appeared, with a serious peering face.
“Are all the wirers in?” I asked.
“Yes,” he answered. “How are you feeling?”
His serious tone amused me. I wanted to say, “Good heavens, man, I’m as fit as anything. I shall be back to-morrow, I expect.” But I felt very tired and rather out of breath as I answered “Oh! all right.”
By this time my arm was bandaged and I started walking back to Maple Redoubt, leaning on Corporal Dyson. I wanted to joke, but felt too tired. It seemed an interminable way down, especially along Watling Street.
I had only once looked into the dressing-station, although I must have passed it several hundred times. I was surprised at its size: there were two compartments. As I stepped down inside, I wondered if it were shell-proof. In the inner chamber I could hear the doctor’s quick low voice, telling a man to move the lamp: and it seemed to flash across me for the first time that there ought to be some kind of guarantee against dressing-stations being blown in like any ordinary dug-out. And yet I knew there was no possibility of any such guarantee.
“Hullo, Bill, old man,” said the little doctor, coming out quickly. “Where’s this thing of yours? In the arm, isn’t it? Let’s have a look. Oh yes, I see. (He examined the bandage, and the arm above it.) Well, I won’t be long. You won’t mind waiting a few minutes, will you? I’ve got a bad case in here. Hall, get him to sit down, and give him some Bovril.”
And he was gone. No man could move or make men move quicker than the doctor.