“Oh, I think that’s all right,” he replied. “You did a good act and saved a good man. The regiment couldn’t spare its chaplain.”
“Yes,” I said, “the chaplain is a brave, good man. I hope that doctor he is under won’t starve him as he did me, the other time I was hurt.”
“I don’t think he will,” said the colonel, smiling as though amused at something. Then, after a pause, he continued. “There is a possibility that I may be given a higher command than this, and in that case I may wish you to serve with me.”
“I shall be glad to serve you, Colonel, in any place I can fill,” I answered, rising and saluting.
I felt pretty good. Had it not been undignified and my hip still hurting a little I would have ran and jumped.
It was part of the system of our Expeditionary Force in France that, every four months, soldiers were to be granted a few days’ leave and though I had been in the service much longer than that time, I had not yet asked for one.
The surgeon strongly recommended that I should take a permission, in order to recuperate before going to duty again. Jot suggested that he also get permission and go with me.
“Where shall we go?” I said. “I should like to go where I can get a good swim.”
“Just the thing,” said Jot, “I have been recommended to go to a place on the south coast—a watering place; they say it is fine.”
It was so arranged.