File:A surgeon in khaki (1915) (14779090381).jpg

Identifier: surgeoninkhaki01mart (find matches)
Title: A surgeon in khaki
Year: 1915 (1910s)
Authors: Martin, Arthur Anderson
Subjects: World War, 1914-1918 World War, 1914-1918
Publisher: New York, Longmans, Green & co. London, E. Arnold
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: Sloan Foundation

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oked behind. Thatwould not be playing the game at all, but his eyes wouldtwinkle, and I have no doubt whatever that he hugelyenjoyed the fun. There were days when Monsignor had a wardrobe con-sisting of but one shirt and one pair of trousers—theother articles of apparel had all been given away. Thenhe would begin again to collect mufflers and socks whensupplies came in, and hand them out almost immediatelyto some poor devils who had nothing. If our chaplainappeared any day to be more cheerful than usual, onecould make quite sure that he had just given away hisboots or his shirt or his towel to some poor French,Belgian, or British Tommy. , The only thing he kept atight hold on was his toothbrush. One day Monsignor appeared with a cardboard boxin his hand and told us that he was going to Renning-helst, a small town about two miles from our head-quarters. Lieutenant X and myself asked leave to accompany him. We had to ask permission, forMonsignor was a senior chaplain and a lieutenant-
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OVER THE BELGIAN FRONTIER 253 colonel in rank, although he never said anything aboutthat. We discovered it accidentally. Being a colonelinterested him only in a vague impersonal sort of way.He told us once that a soldier is diffident and shy beforea colonel, but is natural and communicative to hisminister or priest who is not flagged and starred. On this lovely winter morning, when the wholecountryside was white with frozen snow, we had asharp bracing walk to the curious old town, then the headquarters of General B and his staff of a French Division. The village streets were packed full ofFrench and Belgian soldiery, from Spahis to AlpineChasseurs. We worked our way round the carts andthrough the jostling men to a little shop opposite thechurch. Monsignor was hailed joyfully by many of hisold friends, who on this particular morning were notworking on the roads. The mystery of the cardboard box was then un-ravelled, for after cutting the string and throwing awaythe cover we saw that it

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