"What a pity! The space is so large, the bone will never regenerate. This leg should come off—but I promised to try and save it."
We discussed the situation for a few moments, and finally decided to try an experiment. The loose piece of bone had not yet been thrown away. Might it be used as a splint? We fitted it in between the upper and lower fragment—it was just long enough to be wedged between. We drilled a hole through either end and fastened it firmly with silver wire. Would it grow or decay there? We had grave doubts, and time alone would tell.
Let no one imagine that in the thousands of operations performed at the front surgeons become careless! Every case is a special one; every "Tommy" the private patient of the Empire. The surgeon's responsibility is as great—and he feels it, too—in that far-away land, as it is at home.
We put the limb in a plaster cast to hold it firm. It had been a clean wound—no infection—we had hopes. Six weeks later the bone had united fairly well, and in three months McPherson was able to walk!
But when this operation was done the colonel's troubles were by no means over for the day. It was ten o'clock, and "office" must be held. This miniature military "Police-Court" sits every morning, with the commanding officer as judge. If the court is small, it is by no means unimportant. Jogman realised this as he stood waiting with the guard and witnesses in the hall, the day after his great "debâcle."
The colonel and adjutant were seated in due state, being in full "service dress," which, as distinct from undress, comprises belt and cap. The sergeant-major, in equally dread attire, ordered the guard and prisoner (the latter being minus both belt and cap—these appurtenances being denied him) to "'Shun!—Right turn; quick march!—Halt!—Right turn!" and the whole squad was in line, awaiting "office."
The colonel's face wore a tired and worried expression; his smile had disappeared. The sergeant-major announced:
"Private Jogman, sir!"
The adjutant read the charge sheet. "Number 17462, Private James Jogman, is accused with conduct to the prejudice of good order and military discipline, in that he, on the afternoon of the 21st instant at 4 p.m., in the village of Paris-plage, was disorderly."
The colonel turned to the accused: "Private Jogman, you have heard the charge against you, as read. Are you 'guilty' or 'not guilty'?"