Several sick and wounded men were returned from the hospital as fit for duty. Among these was Private Beaudett, whose hurt had been a clean gun shot wound which was not entirely healed but the doctors, at his urgent request, had discharged him as again fit for duty. We were glad to greet him and have him with us once more.
A cheerful, hopeful man like him, one who sees the bright side of every hardship, and who has a stock of good humor, and fun in him, puts a valuable addition of cheerfulness and life into a company of soldiers. This characteristic can neither be measured, nor weighed. It is called its morale. Napoleon said that an army with this imponderable quality, made up in part of hope, cheerfulness and confidence in itself and its commander, was worth, in actual service, three times as much as an army without it.
No doubt it was this fun-loving and fun-seeing quality that had conduced to Beaudett’s quick recovery from his wound.
“An’ sure,” said Pat Quinn, “ye’s look as good as new, ye little son of a gun.”
“Yes, be Shorge! pretty much better for muche good companee of Red Cross leetle nurse; an’ I cheets him doctor and de bugs,” responded Beaudett with a significant scratch and a grin; “Oui, I have none of he.”
“We will be generous,” said Corporal Sutherland with a wink, “and share our cooties with you. So you can begin scratching at once.”
And he did!
The rain poured down in torrents, and with a persistence worthy of even France in war, when we began our march. For neither weather, nor general or special orders, have the least regard for the soldiers’ comfort in emergencies; and no more consults their convenience than a brigadier general does a mule or an auto truck.
The whitish clay stuck to our feet, magnifying them in both size and weight to such a degree that when, at one time, we halted for rest in a village Pat Quinn looked ruefully downward, and said: “It’s them that look like big loaves of gingerbread before they are patted into shape. An’ sure how will I iver know them again for me feet?”
“A bog trotter like you,” said Sutherland roughly, “ought to be thankful for good clean mud like this.”