I tried all evening to get away long enough so I could step out to a hotel and have a decent bath. Those army clothes were kinda itchy and uncomfortable when you were not used to them, and a bath would feel fine—but how could I take a bath in camp? Or on the boat. Or when I got to France? This was getting serious! And there were certain other things that were bound to happen in due time, and from time to time, and would have to be taken care of, regardless of soldiers, sailors, marines, nurses and generals and in spite of war and hell. I could see from here that I was going to have some very unpleasant moments in this man’s army. I was certainly in a no-maid’s land!
Well—such is war! For Leon’s sake, as well as my own, I sincerely hoped that he wasn’t foolish enough to appear there in the morning looking for me: that would certainly be fatal. However, I wasn’t going to worry about that—there was little or no danger of him being near there even to-morrow. I told Auntie to tell him to stay away from there if he couldn’t make it that night. And also for him to send me some money, addressed to Divisional Headquarters. I didn’t have much more than the price of a bath, and there was a lot of things I’d got to have before many days elapsed.
All packed up, from tooth brush to absorbent cotton. Bring on your damned old war!
No sooner said than done: came the C.O. His voice was like the bell that summoned me to heaven or to hell.
And, my God, what was this I saw before me?
—4—
I had a moment of renewed hope when Esky appeared just as the C. O., a pussyfooting lieutenant named Blaines, was giving the final instructions. I thought for the moment that perhaps the pup’s presence meant that Leon was about. But I recalled, next moment, that Auntie had said the dog was nowhere to be found when Leon left, so apparently Esky had padded along through all that snow and hadn’t seen Leon at all.
The poor pup was all in. He dragged himself up on the bunk and put his head in my lap, perfectly happy to be there and have me rub his ears. I tried to get him off the bunk before the Lieutenant saw him, but Esky could be stubborn when he wanted to be, and refused to move, with the result that a few moments later this Lieutenant Blaines came along and spied him.
“Whose dog is that?” he demanded of me.
“Mine, sir,” I replied. The very tone of his voice grated on my nerves. I had met him before: he was some kind of an aide to General Backett, and he was in and out several times the day before. His full name was Chilton Blaines, and I didn’t think the General had a great deal of use for either his intelligence or his personality.