"BLIGHTY!—WHAT HOPES?"
IT was Sailor Bill's turn. Clearing his voice, he commenced:
"When h'I was in the N'vy—"
"None of that," interrupted Curly. "You're in the Army now, and we are sick of hearing you gas about the Navy. How about it, fellows, make him tell an army story."
The rest all agreed with Curly, and insisted that Bill tell of an army experience, leaving out as much as possible his nautical terms, which were Greek to them.
Sailor Bill, highly peeved, insisted that he couldn't recall at that time that anything worth telling about had happened to him in the army.
Ikey asked, "You were wounded, weren't you? Well, tell us about your trip to Blighty. We can stand anything."
After two or three minutes of pretended hard thinking, Sailor Bill lighted his pipe (which was worse than German gas), and commenced:
"The second battle o' Wipers was still blowin'. I 'ad run amuck with three bullets (rifle, I think) during my cruise over the top. One caught me on the port side o' my compass and nearly carried away my port light, while the other two came aboard my starboard shoulder.
"I remember bein' lowered down a companionw'y into a brightly lit 'old an' placed on a blinkin' slab. Must a'been a first aid dugout. 'Pills' an' a Sergeant bent over me, an' after guessin' awhile said 'chloroform.' Then they tried to choke me by placin' a gas 'elmit over my forepeak.
"I blinkin' well gawsped for h'air a couple o' times, an' then the riggin' started topplin' about me. It was blowin' big guns an' my wind was cut h'off. Suddenly I lamped Big Ben makin' fyces at the Tower o' Lundun an' a bloody Whitechapel bus started crawlin' around Big Ben's fyce like a blinkin' fly. About this time the steam pipes busted, an' what with a lot o' hissin' an' rushin' noises, I took a temporary trip to D'vy Jones Locker.
"I opened me deadlights. I were aboard a stretcher, swathed in blankets, in a low-decked wooden buildin'. Across the w'y from me were a long row o' stretchers, each havin' a wounded Tommy for a cargo. Some were a-lyin' flat, while others were trussed up by folded blankets. Others were sittin' on their stretchers, a-nursin' o' wounded h'arms.
"Between bells a stretcher 'oldin' a Tommy would be carried down the deck by two stretcher-bearers, an' stowed aw'y in the opposite row.
"I could 'ear a bloody racket all about me, an' when I cyme out o' the fog, I got aboard o' their talk.
"My starboard mitt seemed like it were lashed to the stretcher. I couldn't budge it. Squirmin' about, which set the pain a shootin' through me timbers an' started the seams, I turned me unbandaged lamp in the direction o' me wrist to see what was a-'oldin' of it.
"An R.A.M.C. (Royal Army Medical Corps) lubber were a-'oldin' 'ands with me as if I were a bloomin' girl on a bench in the park. 'E were about twenty years h'old, nothin' but a blinkin' kid, an' looked dog-tired, about time for 'is watch below. 'Is chin would gradually sink on 'is chest as if 'e were a-fallin' h'asleep. Then 'e would remember that 'e were on watch, an' would turn to with a jerk.
"After awhile 'is 'ead got too 'eavy for 'is neck to 'old, an' battenin' down 'atches h'over 'is lamps 'e doused the glim.
"I gave me starboard flipper a jerk an' 'e h'opened 'is h'eyes. Then across 'is face flashed a smile. In my w'y o' thinkin' it sort er reminded me o' sunrise at sea. Anyw'y it sent a warm glow through me for'ard an' h'aft. That smile gave me a 'ankerin' after that kid. Then came a squall. 'E h'opened 'is mouth an' I knew I 'ad left the cabin for the fo'c'sle an' a bloody Cockney one at that.
"'Strafe me pink, but you do tyke your own bloomin' time to come out o' chloroform. 'Ere h'I 'ave been bloody well balmy a-'oldin' your blinkin' pulse like some tart down in Piccadilly.'
"Out o' the corner o' me mouth I awsked 'im:
"'What port's this? Where am I?'
"Still a-smilin', 'e 'ailed a stretcher-bearer across the w'y:
"'H'I s'y, 'Awkins, this blighter wants a bloomin' map o' Frawnce; 'e wants to know where 'e h'is.'
"'Awkins yelled back:
"'Wants to know where 'e h'is? What bloody cheek! Tell 'im 'e's bloomin' well in Sam Isaac's fish 'ouse down Totten'am Court Road, a-waitin' fer 'is order o' fish an chips.'
"This brought out a blinkin' roar from the Tommies on me starboard an' port beams.
"I got sort er riled, an', Yank, 'avin' a-visited New York, I tried to come aboard with some o' that Yankee swank, somethin' like this;
"'Aw cut it up. Quit yer kiddin'. Yer brains are dusty. What's the matter, am I wounded?'
"The R.A.M.C. man, with that smile still a-shinin' from 'is port-'oles, which made me feel kind o' shamed like at me resentment, awnswered:
"'Naw, myte, you h'ain't wounded. You just 'appened to fall down in the bloomin' road an' one o' those blinkin' tanks crawled over you.'
This scared me a little, an' I sort er pleaded:
"'Cawn't you please tell me; what is the matter with me?'
"'E leaned over an' read from a little tag pinned to me tunic:
"'G.S.W. left face; two, right shoulder. Cot.'
"Then 'e carried on:
"'H'it means that you 'ave a gunshot wound, a bullet through the left side o' your clock, an' two bullets through the right shoulder, an' that you're a cot case, which means that you won't 'ave to bloody well walk. Two of us poor blokes will 'ave to carry you on a stretcher. You sure are a lucky bloke; pretty cushy, I calls it.'
"I awsked 'im if the wounds were good for Blighty.
"He answered:
"'Yes, they're good for Blighty, an' h'I'm a thinkin' that they're good for a discharge. That right h'arm o' your'n will be out o' commission for the rest o' your life. Your wife, if you've got one, will bloomin' well 'ave to cut your meat for you, that is, if you're lucky enough to buy any blinkin' meat on the pension the Top 'Ats at 'ome will 'and you.'
"A feelin' o' pride ran through me. In a 'ospital o' wounded soldiers, a severely wounded case is more or less looked up to, while a man with a slight wound is treated as an ordinary mortal. I could read respect, per'aps mixed up with a little h'envy, in the h'eyes o' the surroundin' Tommies.
"The door at the h'end o' the ward h'opened. A 'owl came from the cot on me starboard, an' a gruff Irish voice shouted:
"'Close that damned door. You bloomin' 'ospital men 'ave no sinse at all. 'Ere I am, knocked about by a blinkin' shell an' the likes o' youse puts me in a bloody draught. It's a good thing we 'ave a n'vy; with the likes o' you blokes in the h'army, we certainly need one.'
"A laugh went up from the rest. Then a Tommy on my port answered this outburst with:
"'Bloody nerve, I call it. 'Ere 'e is, a-covered with blankets an' grousin' about a little drawft, an' not many hours back 'e was a-lyin' in a bloomin' shell 'ole, with the wind a-blowin' the whiskers off'n 'im, an' 'e a-prayin' for the stretcher-bearers. I'll wager a quid 'e belongs to the Royal h'Irish Rifles.'
"The man on me starboard retorted:
"'No, I'm not in the Royal Irish Rifles, but I belong to a good outfit—the Royal Dublin Fusileers, an' I can lick the man that says they ain't. So don't get so damn sharp.'
"Just then, from amidships in the ward, came the voice of a stretcher-bearer:
"Jones, get the M.O." (Medical Officer). "Hurry up—quick! This poor bloke's a-goin' West."
"The man 'oldin' my 'and suddenly let go 'is grip, an' a-risin' to 'is feet, 'urriedly left the ward. There was dead silence 'tween decks. I tried to turn in the direction from which the first voice 'ad come, but the sharp pain in me shoulder warned me that I was on a lee shore.
"In a few seconds the door h'opened an' I could 'ear low voices down in the corner. I could see the Tommies around me h'intently gazing in this one direction. Awfter a few minutes the door again h'opened an' closed, an' Jones came back. I looked up at 'im an' 'e solemnly nodded.
"One more bloke 'ad gone West for 'is King an' Country.
"Me unbandaged lamp suddenly ran into a fog an' sprung a leak, the bilge water runnin' down me side.
"The door at the other h'end o' the ward h'opened an' two stretcher-bearers h'entered an' went in the direction o' the dead bloke. Pretty soon they came back with a stretcher in tow on which were a still form covered with a blanket, an' left the ward. The Irishman on me starboard was a-repeatin' to 'imself:
"'Poor bloke, poor bloke; 'e sure 'as done 'is bit, an' it won't be long before 'e'll be a-pushin' up the daisies somewhere in Frawnce. An' before this war is h'over there'll be lots more in the same fix, I'm a-thinkin'.'
"One o' the Tommies, swankin' to be brave, h'addressed Jones:
"'What's 'is nyme, Mike? What battalion is 'e from?'
"Jones awnswered:
"'James Collins, a Lawnce Corporal out o' the Royal Warwicks; five machine gun bullets through the right lung—'emorrhage.'
"The blinkin' door ag'in h'opened, an' two stretcher-bearers h'entered carryin' a Tommy, 'is 'ead lyin' flat, an' the smell of h'ether almost turned me stomick. I knew it were a case from the Pictures" (operating-room). "The stretcher-bearers placed 'im to the starboard o' the Irishman.
"Jones now left me, an' gettin' a little white basin, went h'over to the new h'arrival. The Tommies turned h'inquirin' looks in 'is direction. 'E knew what they meant all right, an' read from the tag:
"'Shell wound in left foot,—h'amputation.'
"I knew that I 'ad lost me prestige.
"In a short while the form on the stretcher began to mumble. This mumblin' soon turned into singin, an' that Tommy certainly could sing! 'E must 'ave been a comedian in civilian life, because we were soon a-roarin' with laughter. 'Arry Tate, the famous h'English comedian, in 'is fair weather d'ys, never 'ad a no more h'appreciative h'audience. H'awfter a bit the singin' stopped an' the Tommies began talkin' at each other. The main topic o' their conversation were Blighty—what 'opes! Each one was a-'opin' that 'is wound was serious enough for 'im to be sent to h'England. The stretcher-bearers were fairly pestered with questions as to what chawnce they 'ad o' reachin' a Lunnun public-'ouse. I believe they all h'envied the bloke under h'ether, with a left foot a-missin'; 'e was sure to click Blighty.
"A Sergeant-M'jor o' the R.A.M.C. h'entered the ward like a blinkin' Admiral comin' aboard. All o' the medical men stood at attention, except one or two a-takin' care o' serious cases. The Sergeant-M'jor ordered:
"'Get this ward in shape. The M.O. is comin' through in five minutes to h'inspect cases an' clear out.'
"The R.A.M.C. men went from cot to cot, carefully smoothin' h'out blankets an' tuckin' in loose ends, an' pickin' h'up fag h'ends." (Cigarette butts.)
"The Sergeant-M'jor pulled out.
"In about ten minutes, the door again h'opened, an' with a smart 'shun' from the Sergeant-M'jor, who came in first, all what was able came to attention, an' the doctor h'entered, a clerk, and a R.A.M.C. Sergeant followin' in 'is wake. 'E stopped at each cot, carefully read the tag on the wounded man h'occupyin' it, passed a few remarks which the clerk jotted down on a pad of paper, an' as 'e left each wounded soldier, 'e 'ad a cheerin' remark for 'im.
"When 'e came to me 'e awsked:
"'Well, 'ow are you feelin' me lad, at the same time stoopin' over an' readin' from me tag:
"'Ummm—three rifle bullets; well, me lucky fellow, h'it means h'England for you.'
"H'I could 'ave blinkin' well a-kissed 'im for them words.
"Then 'e passed to the Irishman on me starboard. Bendin' over 'im 'e awsked:
"''Ow are you, me lad?'
"The Irishman, thick-like, awnswered:
"'I'm damned sick, an' I want to get out o' 'ere; I want to get out o' 'ere, out o' this draught. Ivery tin minutes they're openin' and a-shuttin' that door.'
"The doctor, winkin' 'is lamp, turned to the R.A.M.C. Sergeant, an' said:
"'Shrapnel, left foot, knee an' right breast. I see no reason why this man won't be ready for duty in a couple o' d'ys.'
"The Irishman, bloody near jumpin' over the side o' 'is cot, yelled:
"'Dooty, how in the 'ell can I do dooty when I cawn't blinkin' well walk?'
"The doctor answered:
"'That'll be all right, me lad. We'll fix you h'up with a cushy job at Brigade 'Eadquarters, a-poundin' a typewriter.'
"The Irishman, with a moan of disgust, addressin' nobody in particular, sighed:
"'Out since Mons, an' h'I h'end up with workin' a bloody typewriter at 'Eadquarters. Stick me in skirts an' I'll go as a manicurist.'
"The doctor went to the next case an' soon left the ward.
"As soon as the door closed, a string of oaths came from the Irishman:
"'Poundin' a —— —— typewriter at 'Eadquarters; just like the bloody British h'Army; what in 'ell do I know about one o' those writin'-machines? Just me luck. Why couldn't that shell 'ave 'it me in the 'ands? But, I s'pose, if I'd a' lost me bloody 'ands they'd myke a tight-rope walker out o' me.'
"Awfter a bit 'e sorter cooled down, an' to keep conversation a-goin', I awsked 'im, sort o' innocent-like:
"'Where did you get wounded?'
"'E let out another bloody 'owl, this time at me, an' said:
"'Of all the damn fools, you're a-leadin' o' them. I got wounded in the blinkin' Crimean War, 'elpin' Napoleon tyke Josephine across the Alps, 'ad me blinkin legs blown off at the wrists an' me 'ead cut h'off at me waist. Is there anything else I kin be enlightenin' you of? If not, keep yer tongue in that bloody cave o' yourn.'
"A-laughin' made me wounds 'urt, so I battened down 'atches an' lay to.
"Awfter the laughin' at the Irishman 'ad died out, the Tommies started eagerly questioning each h'other:
"'What did 'e sye to you? Are you good for Blighty? 'E marked h'England on me tag! What does Base 'Ospital mean? Does it mean that I'm to stick h'out in this bloody mess while you blokes are a-goin' to Blighty?' etc., etc.
"Pretty soon a stretcher-bearer came in a-carryin' a little, oblong green box, which we all knew 'eld Woodbines. 'E were greeted with a chorus of:
"'Gimme a fag, Mike; I'm all out. Come on, chum, don't forget me. That's a good fellow. Let's 'ave one.'
"It weren't long before every Tommy who were fit 'ad a fag between 'is lips. A sigh o' content went up as they inhaled deep puffs o' smoke. Mine was jake.
"Awfter me smoke I were a-feelin' pretty ship-shape, an' tried another shot at the Irishman. I awsked 'im:
"'Come on, myte, tell me 'ow you were 'it. 'Ow did it 'appen?'
"No answer.
"I tried again. Still no blinkin' awnswer. Raisin' myself on my good elbow, an' it 'urt like 'ell, I took a look at 'im. 'Is fyce were like putty, an' 'is mouth were h'open. I yelled to one of the R.A.M.C. men, who came a-runnin', an' h'I pointed at that chalky fyce. 'E bent over 'im, felt 'is pulse, lifted 'is blinkin' eyelids, an' then took it on the run for the doctor.
"The doctor came in an' did pretty near as what the R.A.M.C. man 'ad done, straightened up, an' shook 'is 'ead. That bloke 'ad gone West under our blinkin' noses. H'internal 'emorrhage, they called it. Must a-tried to turn over an' started bleedin' on the inside.
"In about five minutes, two orderlies came in an 'oisted 'im onto a stretcher, an' 'e took 'is lawst ride at the expense o' the Government.
"'Is death knocked the wind out o' our sails, an' there were a dead calm in that ward.
"Near twenty minutes awfter the poor bloke 'ad been carried aw'y one o' the R.A.M.C. men noticed a' open letter where the Irishman 'ad been. It were all muddy an' a-covered with blood stains. 'E picked it up, an' slowly turned it over an' over, an' then started to read, in a low voice, with the water a-tricklin' down 'is fyce. I could just h'about 'ear 'im. It were from the Irishman's nipper, an' as well as I can remember, went somethin' like this:
"Dear Daddy:
"'Urry up an' win the war an' come 'ome, 'cause me an' Mamma an' Mary is lonesome. Mamma cries lots when she's alone by herself, but sometimes I sees 'er, an' then she smiles an' says she wants me when I grow up to be a man, to be brave like you is, Daddy.
"Day before yesterday I licked Mike Casey an' 'e's goin' on twelve, too, 'cause 'e said 'is father was braver than you, just 'cause 'is father won an old D.C.M. medal. After lickin' 'im, I told 'im you could win a million D.C.M. medals, but that you didn't want none. Did you, Daddy? But get one, anyway, just to show 'im.
"Last Sunday Mamma read out o' the newspapers that there was a big battle against the dirty Germans, an' cried a lot. She said you were in it, Daddy, an' I said then we won, because Daddy will win for us. She 'as been crying a awful lot. 'Urry an' come 'ome, Daddy, an' make Mamma smile again, an' bring a German prisoner to do the work so as Mamma can rest from takin' in washin'. She says food is awful 'igh, an' she 'as lost 'er h'appetite, but me an' Mary eats just as much, so don't worry, Daddy.
"Mamma is out gettin' the wash, so I am writin' to surprise you, an' she don't know. We will tell 'er some day, won't we, Daddy, an' make 'er smile again.
"Good-bye, Daddy, an' I always ask the Priest to say prayers fer you, Daddy, an' I say them myself, an' so does Mamma an' Mary an' Jim, our new dog.
"Much love an' kisses from me, an' Mamma, an' Mary an' Jim.
"Your lovin' son,
"JOHNNY.
"P.S.—Don't fergit to come 'ome."
"That letter from 'is little nipper made me 'eart ache, an' 'e a-lyin' dead somewhere in Frawnce. The R.A.M.C. man left the ward with the letter, a-leakin' from both eyes.
"The Sergeant-Major again entered. The R.A.M.C. men came to attention. 'E ordered:
"'Get the convoy for h'England ready. Look alive, the h'ambulances are h'expected any minute.'
"The stretcher-bearers started knockin' about, an' the ship was in an uproar. Then, outside, h'I could 'ear the chuggin' of the engines in the waitin' ambulances.
"H'as each lucky bloke were carried out, the more unfortunate ones, who were to be left be'ind in the Base 'Ospital, bravely wished 'im a 'Good luck, myte; give my regards to Trafalgar Square. Be careful, an' don't lose your blinkin' watch in Petticoat Lane.'
"H'as I were carried through the door the cold h'air sent a shiver through me, an' my wounds began to pain. The h'effect o' the chloroform were a-wearin' off, or it might 'a' been that letter. Lanterns were a-flashin' to an' fro, an' long lines o' stretchers could be seen movin' toward the waitin' h'ambulances.
"I were put aboard an ambulance with three others. A raspin' noise as she got under w'y, an' I were 'omeward bound for Blighty."
When Sailor Bill had finished, no one broke the silence.
They were all thinking of Johnny.