Baxter Springs news., 1919-01-03

Dlinkkn CnnkD cruW1ou OVor yOu.
This rather heightened me. and in
a pleading voics ] asked:
"Pleasa tell M; what b the matter
with meT
Tho strotchsr bearer leaned over
and read from Q little tag pinned %
my tunic:
~G. 8. ". left face-(two) left
shoulder. Cot"
Then he carried on:
'Hit means that you ave q rihe
bullet through the left side Of your
clock (face) and two bullets through
your left shoulder. and that you're q
cot case, which means that you won't
ave to bloody well walk. Two Of %
poor blokes viii ave to carry you on
a stretcher. You sure are q lucky
bloke; pretty cushy. I calls It."
I asked him II the wounds were good
for Bllghty.
He answered:
"Hes, you're good for BllShty. and
I'm a.thinkin' that they're good for q
discharge. That left harm o yourn
win be out o. commission for the rest
o. your life. Your wife. II you've got
one. will bloomin' well ave to cut
your meat for you, that n II you're
lucky enough to get any blinkin' meat
on the pension the Top Ats 'ome VIII
and you"
A feeling of pride surged through
me. In hospital Of wounded soldiers
severely wounded case is more or
less looked mp to, while q man with q
superficial wound Il treated as an or
dinary mortal. could read respect,
perhaps intermixed with little envy.
In the eyes Of the surrounding Tom
mics and medical men.
The door at the end Of the ward
opened. A howl came from the cot at
my right, and Q gruft Irish voice
shouted:
"Close that damned door. You
bloomln' hospital men have no sinse
at all. Here I am. knocked about BY q
shell, and the likes O. youse puts me
in bloody draft. It's q good thing we
have a navy; with the likes O. you
blokes In the army, We certainly need
one"
A snlcker went up from the patients.
Then a Tommy on my left answered
this outburst with:
'Bloody nerve, call It. Ere . IL,
a. covered with blankets, and grOusin'
about q little drawft, and not many
hours back e was lyin' In bloomin'
shell 'ole, with the wind a-blOwin' the
whIskers OF i'm, and g a-prayin' for
stretcher bearers. I'll wager a Quid q
belongs to the Royal Irish Rides"
The man on my right retorted:
"Naw, I'm not in the Royal Irish
Rifles, but belong to a good outfit
the Royal Dublin Fusiliers. and ] can
lick the man that says they amt"
Just then, from corner Of the ward,
came the voice of a stretcher bearer:
Zones. get the II. o. (medical Of
ficer). Hurry up-Quick-this poor
bloke's a-goln' west"
The man holding my hand suddenly
released his grip, and rising to his feet
hurrledly left the ward. A dead 81
lence ensued. ! tried to turn in the
direction from which the first voice
had come, but the sharp pain in my
shoulder warned me that Il was use.
less.
In q few seconds the door opened
and / could hear low voices down In
the corner. could see the Tommies
around me intently gazing In the d.
rection Of the voices. After q few
minutes the door opened again, then
closed, and Jones came back. / looked
up at him and he solemnly nodded.
One more son Of Britain had paid
the toll Of war.
Ny unbandaged eye suddenly be-
came cloudy and misty and bot tear
rolled down my cheek.
The door at the other end Of the
ward opened and two stretcher bear
ers entered, going In the direction OF
the dead man. Pretty soon they LEFT
the ward, carrying o stretcher, on
which was q still form covered with a
blanket. The Irishman on my right
was repeating to himself:
"P00r bl0ke. poor bloke; he sure
done his bit, and Il won't be long be-
fore he'll be pushin' up the daisies
somewhere In France. And before this
war is over. thereIl be lots more In the
same tx"
One Of the TommieS, In an oRort 70
be brave, addressed Jones:
''What's IL nyme. Mixer What bat
TALON u Q fr0mf
Jones answered:
"James Collins, q lance corporal out
Of the Royal Warwlcks: i've machine
gun bullets through the right lung
hemorrhage."
The door opened again and two
stretcher bearers entered. carrying q
Tommy, his head lying fiat, and q
smell Of ether pervaded the ward. We
knew It was q case from the Pictures
Operating rOom). The Btretcher bear
ers placed him on the right Of the