All things have an end, however, and after a few weeks, that seemed months to me, I was allowed to get out into pure air. The nurse and doctor had not been so very bad, after all my growling. They had given me good things to eat, though a little stingy with mutton chops and beefsteaks; but I had plenty of good food.
Then I called on the chaplain, at his request. He was looking pale and peaked but his courage was good. He was a fine fellow with a lot of stuff in him besides common sense. He did not make me feel shame-faced by “plastering it on” about my bringing him into our lines, nor make any fuss over me at all, for he understood. It was just what he, or any other decent man, would have done under similar circumstances.
Later the colonel sent his orderly to bring me to his office. He was another sensible man!
I stood at attention and saluted.
“You are looking fine, Sergeant,” he said, “and I am glad to see you looking so fit!”
“Yes, Colonel,” I answered, “a flesh wound should not keep a man tied up long. I am ready for duty now.”
“Sit down,” he invited me; and just then Muddy rushed in and made a fuss over me; he had been living with the colonel since I had been tied up by my leg.
“I have good news for you, that I may as well tell you now,” he continued.
“The French general has recommended you for the Croix de Guerre.”
“I’d be glad to get one,” I stammered “if they think that I really deserve it, Colonel.”