As he approached one stretcher, a cheery
voice called, "Hello, Mr. Bok. Here I am again."
It was the boy he had left just seventy-two hours before hearty and
well.
"Well, my boy, you weren't in it long, were you?"
"No, sir," answered the boy; "Fritzie sure got me first thing. Hadn't
gone a hundred yards over the top. Got a cigarette?" (the invariable
question).
Bok handed a cigarette to the boy, who then said: "Mind sticking it in
my mouth?" Bok did so and then offered him a light; the boy continued,
all with his wonderful smile: "If you don't mind, would you just light
it? You see, Fritzie kept both of my hooks as souvenirs."
With both arms amputated, the boy could still jest and smile!
It was the same boy who on his hospital cot the next day said: "Don't
you think you could do something for the chap next to me, there on my
left? He's really suffering: cried like hell all last night. It would
be a God-send if you could get Doc to do something."
A promise was given that the surgeon should be seen at once, but the
boy was asked: "How about you?"
"Oh," came the cheerful answer, "I'm all right.
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