Bobbie landed with the regiment, and went through thick and thin with it. But always with a smile and never a scratch. Bullets flew off Bobbie at a tangent.
Of our officers, three only of the original arrivals were left when Bobbie went. He had watched the others go away one by one, some wounded, some sick, and some—well, just left,
“Where the foe and the stranger will tread o’er their heads
When we’re far away on the billow.”
Bobbie had grown quite proud of his staying powers, which carried him through three months of real hardship and trying work night and day. But for Bobbie’s smile in adversity and his way—for he has a way with him—many of his brave boys would have given up. But Bobbie’s bright example spurred them on and they “stuck it,” like their idol.
Bobbie’s only a youngster, but he is made of the real “stuff that’s bred in the army.” When he found himself exalted to the command of a company his head didn’t swell. The added responsibilities were not too heavy for Bobbie’s shoulders, which really were not broad relatively when compared with his broad smile. Bobbie acted like a tonic to a man run-down.
But, at last, Nature (in collusion with the M.O.) asserted her imperious will, and Bobbie just had to go to hospital. So Bobbie bowed to the inevitable, and, still smiling, went away.
Bobbie in hospital! What a picture! His bright smile, his rosy cheeks, and his immaculately parted hair, framed in snowy-white pillows. Bobbie—the irresistible!
Bobbie, we were loath to lose you; Bobbie, we miss you; but, Bobbie, won’t there be a weeping and a wailing when the nurses have to let you go?
Still, “it’s an ill wind that blows nobody good.” Bobbie’s chocolate sweetened the bitterness of parting; Bobbie’s tinned fruit sustains us in his absence; Bobbie’s cigarettes sooth our sorrow.