“If you had any foreign bodies in your legs they would set up an inflammation and you’d have fever.”
“All right,” I said. “We’ll see what comes out.”
She went out of the room and came back with the old nurse of the early morning. Together they made the bed with me in it. That was new to me and an admirable proceeding.
“Who is in charge here?”
“Miss Van Campen.”
“How many nurses are there?”
“Just us two.”
“Won’t there be more?”
“Some more are coming.”
“When will they get here?”
“I don’t know. You ask a great many questions for a sick boy.”
“I’m not sick,” I said. “I’m wounded.”
They had finished making the bed and I lay with a clean smooth sheet under me and another sheet over me. Mrs. Walker went out and came back with a pajama jacket. They put that on me and I felt very clean and dressed.
“You’re awfully nice to me,” I said. The nurse called Miss Gage giggled. “Could I have a drink of water?” I asked.
“Certainly. Then you can have breakfast.”
“I don’t want breakfast. Can I have the shutters opened please?”
The light had been dim in the room and when the shutters were opened it was bright sunlight and I looked out on a balcony and beyond were the tile roofs of houses and chimneys. I looked out over the tiled roofs and saw white clouds and the sky very blue.
“Don’t you know when the other nurses are coming?”
“Why? Don’t we take good care of you?”
“You’re very nice.”
“Would you like to use the bedpan?”
“I might try.”
They helped me and held me up but it was not any use. Afterward I lay and looked out the open doors onto the balcony.
“When does the doctor come?”
“When he gets back. We’ve tried to telephone to Lake Como for him.”
“Aren’t there any other doctors?”
“He’s the doctor for the hospital.”
Miss Gage brought a pitcher of water and a glass. I drank three glasses and then they left me and I looked out the window a while and went back to sleep. I ate some lunch and in the afternoon Miss Van Campen, the superintendent, came up to see me. She did not like me and I did not like her. She was small and neatly suspicious and too good for her position. She asked many questions and seemed to think it was somewhat disgraceful that I was with the Italians.
“Can I have wine with the meals?” I asked her.
“Only if the doctor prescribes it.”
“I can’t have it until he comes?”
“Absolutely not.”
“You plan on having him come eventually?”
“We’ve telephoned him at Lake Como.”
She went out and Miss Gage came back.
“Why were you rude to Miss Van Campen?” she asked after she had done something for me very skilfully.
“I didn’t mean to be. But she was snooty.”
“She said you were domineering and rude.”
“I wasn’t. But what’s the idea of a hospital without a doctor?”
“He’s coming. They’ve telephoned for him to Lake Como.”
“What does he do there? Swim?”
“No. He has a clinic there.”
“Why don’t they get another doctor?”
“Hush. Hush. Be a good boy and he’ll come.”
I sent for the porter and when he came I told him in Italian to get me a bottle of Cinzano at the wine shop, a fiasco of chianti and the evening papers. He went away and brought them wrapped in newspaper, unwrapped them and, when I asked him to, drew the corks and put the wine and vermouth under the bed. They left me alone and I lay in bed and read the papers awhile, the news from the front, and the list of dead officers with their decorations and then reached down and brought up the bottle of Cinzano and held it straight up on my stomach, the cool glass against my stomach, and took little drinks making rings on my stomach from holding the bottle there between drinks, and watched it get dark outside over the roofs of the town. The swallows circled around and I watched them and the night-hawks flying above the roofs and drank the Cinzano. Miss Gage brought up a glass with some eggnog in it. I lowered the vermouth bottle to the other side of the bed when she came in.
“Miss Van Campen had some sherry put in this,” she said. “You shouldn’t be rude to her. She’s not young and this hospital is a big responsibility for her. Mrs. Walker’s too old and she’s no use to her.”
“She’s a splendid woman,” I said. “Thank her very much.”
“I’m going to bring your supper right away.”
“That’s all right,” I said. “I’m not hungry.”
When she brought the tray and put it on the bed table I thanked her and ate a little of the supper. Afterward it was dark outside and I could see the beams of the search-lights moving in the sky. I watched for a while and then went to sleep. I slept heavily except once I woke sweating and scared and then went back to sleep trying to stay outside of my dream. I woke for good long before it was light and heard roosters crowing and stayed on awake until it began to be light. I was tired and once it was really light I went back to sleep again.
14
It was bright sunlight in the room when I woke. I thought I was back at the front and stretched out in bed. My legs hurt me and I looked down at them still in the dirty bandages, and seeing them knew where I was. I reached up for the bell-cord and pushed the button. I heard it buzz down the hall and then some one coming on rubber soles along the hall. It was Miss Gage and she looked a little older in the bright sunlight and not so pretty.
“Good-morning,” she said. “Did you have a good night?”
“Yes. Thanks very much,” I said. “Can I have a barber?”
“I came in to see you and you were asleep with this in the bed with you.”
She opened the armoire door and held up the vermouth bottle. It was nearly empty. “I put the other bottle from under the bed in there too,” she said. “Why didn’t you ask me for a glass?”
“I thought maybe you wouldn’t let me have it.”
“I’d have had some with you.”
“You’re a fine girl.”
“It isn’t good for you to drink alone,” she said. “You mustn’t do it.”
“All right.”
“Your friend Miss Barkley’s come,” she said.
“Really?”
“Yes. I don’t like her.”
“You will like her. She’s awfully nice.”
She shook her head. “I’m sure she’s fine. Can you move just a little to this side? That’s fine. I’ll clean you up for breakfast.” She washed me with a cloth and soap and warm water. “Hold your shoulder up,” she said. “That’s fine.”
“Can I have the barber before breakfast?”
“I’ll send the porter for him.” She went out and came back. “He’s gone for him,” she said and dipped the cloth she held in the basin of water.
The barber came with the porter. He was a man of about fifty with an upturned mustache. Miss Gage was finished with me and went out and the barber lathered my face and shaved. He was very solemn and refrained from talking.
“What’s the matter? Don’t you know any news?” I asked.
“What news?”
“Any news. What’s happened in the town?”
“It is time of wai” he said. “The enemy’s ears are everywhere.”
I looked up at him. “Please hold your face still,” he said and went on shaving. “I will tell nothing.”
“What’s the matter with you?” I asked.
“I am an Italian. I will not communicate with the enemy.”
I let it go at that. If he was crazy, the sooner I could get out from under the razor the better. Once I tried to get a good look at him. “Beware,” he said. “The razor is sharp.”
I paid him when it was over
and tipped him half a lira. He returned the coins.
“I will not. I am not at the front. But I am an Italian.”
“Get the hell out of here.”
“With your permission,” he said and wrapped his razors in newspaper. He went out leaving the five copper coins on the table beside the bed. I rang the bell. Miss Gage came in. “Would you ask the porter to come please?”
“All right.”
The porter came in. He was trying to keep from laughing.
“Is that barber crazy?”
“No, signorino. He made a mistake. He doesn’t understand very well and he thought I said you were an Austrian officer.”
“Oh,” I said.
“Ho ho ho,” the porter laughed. “He was funny. One move from you he said and he would have—” he drew his forefinger across his throat.
“Ho ho ho,” he tried to keep from laughing. “When I tell him you were not an Austrian. Ho ho ho.”
“Hoho ho,” I said bitterly. “How funny if he would cut my throat. Ho ho ho.”
“No, signorino. No, no. He was so frightened of an Austrian. Ho ho ho.”
“Ho ho ho,” I said. “Get out of here.”
He went out and I heard him laughing in the hall. I heard some one coming down the hallway. I looked toward the door. It was Catherine Barkley.
She came in the room and over to the bed.
“Hello, darling,” she said. She looked fresh and young and very beautiful. I thought I had never seen any one so beautiful.
“Hello,” I said. When I saw her I was in love with her. Everything turned over inside of me. She looked toward the door, saw there was no one, then she sat on the side of the bed and leaned over and kissed me. I pulled her down and kissed her and felt her heart beating.
“You sweet,” I said. “Weren’t you wonderful to come here?”
“It wasn’t very hard. It may be hard to stay.”
“You’ve got to stay,” I said. “Oh, you’re wonderful.” I was crazy about her. I could not believe she was really there and held her tight to me.
“You mustn’t,” she said. “You’re not well enough.”
“Yes, I am. Come on.”
“No. You’re not strong enough.”
“Yes. I am. Yes. Please.”
“You do love me?”
“I really love you. I’m crazy about you. Come on please.”
“Feel our hearts beating.”
“I don’t care about our hearts. I want you. I’m just mad about you.”
“You really love me?”
“Don’t keep on saying that. Come on. Please. Please, Catherine.”
“All right but only for a minute.”
“All right,” I said. “Shut the door.”
“You can’t. You shouldn’t.”
“Come on. Don’t talk. Please come on.”
Catherine sat in a chair by the bed. The door was open into the hall. The wildness was gone and I felt finer than I had ever felt.
She asked, “Now do you believe I love you?”
“Oh, you’re lovely,” I said. “You’ve got to stay. They can’t send you away. I’m crazy in love with you.”
“We’ll have to be awfully careful. That was just madness. We can’t do that.”
“We can at night.”
“We’ll have to be awfully careful. You’ll have to be careful in front of other people.”
“I will.”
“You’ll have to be. You’re sweet. You do love me, don’t you?”
“Don’t say that again. You don’t know what that does to me.”
“I’ll be careful then. I don’t want to do anything more to you. I have to go now, darling, really.”
“Come back right away.”
“I’ll come when I can.”
“Good-by.”
“Good-by, sweet.”
She went out. God knows I had not wanted to fall in love with her. I had not wanted to fall in love with any one. But God knows I had and I lay on the bed in the room of the hospital in Milan and all sorts of things went through my head but I felt wonderful and finally Miss Gage came in.
“The doctor’s coming,” she said. “He telephoned from Lake Como.”
“When does he get here?”
“He’ll be here this afternoon.”
15
Nothing happened until afternoon. The doctor was a thin quiet little man who seemed disturbed by the war. He took out a number of small steel splinters from my thighs with delicate and refined distaste. He used a local anaesthetic called something or other “snow,” which froze the tissue and avoided pain until the probe, the scalpel or the forceps got below the frozen portion. The anxsthetized area was clearly defined by the patient and after a time the doctor’s fragile delicacy was exhausted and he said it would be better to have an X-ray. Probing was unsatisfactory, he said.
The X-ray was taken at the Ospedale Maggiore and the doctor who did it was excitable, efficient and cheerful. It was arranged by holding up the shoulders, that the patient should see personally some of the larger foreign bodies through the machine. The plates were to be sent over. The doctor requested me to write in his pocket notebook, my name, and regiment and some sentiment. He declared that the foreign bodies were ugly, nasty, brutal. The Austrians were sons of bitches. How many had I killed? I had not killed any but I was anxious to please—and I said I had killed plenty. Miss Gage was with me and the doctor put his arm around her and said she was more beautiful than Cleopatra. Did she understand that? Cleopatra the former queen of Egypt. Yes, by God she was. We returned to the little hospital in the ambulance and after a while and much lifting I was upstairs and in bed again. The plates came that afternoon, the doctor had said by God he would have them that afternoon and he did. Catherine Barkley showed them to me. They were in red envelopes and she took them out of the envelopes and held them up to the light and we both looked.
“That’s your right leg,” she said, then put the plate back in the envelope. “This is your left.”
“Put them away,” I said, “and come over to the bed.”
“I can’t,” she said. “I just brought them in for a second to show you.”
She went out and I lay there. It was a hot afternoon and I was sick of lying in bed. I sent the porter for the papers, all the papers he could get.
Before he came back three doctors came into the room. I have noticed that doctors who fail in the practice of medicine have a tendency to seek one another’s company and aid in consultation. A doctor who cannot take out your appendix properly will recommend to you a doctor who will be unable to remove your tonsils with success. These were three such doctors.
“This is the young man,” said the house doctor with the delicate hands.
“How do you do?” said the tall gaunt doctor with the beard. The third doctor, who carried the X-ray plates in their red envelopes, said nothing.
“Remove the dressings?” questioned the bearded doctor.
“Certainly. Remove the dressings, please, nurse,” the house doctor said to Miss Gage. Miss Gage removed the dressings. I looked down at the legs. At the field hospital they had the look of not too freshly ground hamburger steak. Now they were crusted and the knee was swollen and discolored and the calf sunken but there was no pus.
“Very clean,” said the house doctor. “Very clean and nice.”
“Urn,” said the doctor with the beard. The third doctor looked over the house doctor’s shoulder.
“Please move the knee,” said the bearded doctor.
“I can’t.”
“Test the articulation?” the bearded doctor questioned. He had a stripe beside the three stars on his sleeve. That meant he was a first captain.
“Certainly,” the house doctor said. Two of them took hold of my right leg very gingerly and bent it.
“That hurts,” I said.
“Yes. Yes. A little further, doctor.”
“That’s enough. That’s as far as it goes,” I said.
&
nbsp; “Partial articulation,” said the first captain. He straightened up. “May I see the plates again, please, doctor?” The third doctor handed him one of the plates. “No. The left leg, please.”
“That is the left leg, doctor.”
“You are right. I was looking from a different angle.” He returned the plate. The other plate he examined for some time. “You see, doctor?” he pointed to one of the foreign bodies which showed spherical and clear against the light. They examined the plate for some time.
“Only one thing I can say,” the first captain with the beard said. “It is a question of time. Three months, six months probably.”
“Certainly the synovial fluid must re-form.”
“Certainly. It is a question of time. I could not conscientiously open a knee like that before the projectile was encysted.”
“I agree with you, doctor.”
“Six months for what?” I asked.
“Six months for the projectile to encyst before the knee can be opened safely.”
“I don’t believe it,” I said.
“Do you want to keep your knee, young man?”
“No,” I said.
“What?”
“I want it cut off,” I said, “so I can wear a hook on it.”
“What do you mean? A hook?”
“He is joking,” said the house doctor. He patted my shoulder very delicately. “He wants to keep his knee. This is a very brave young man. He has been proposed for the silver medal of valor.”
“All my felicitations,” said the first captain. He shook my hand. “I can only say that to be on the safe side you should wait at least six months before opening such a knee. You are welcome of course to another opinion.”
“Thank you very much,” I said. “I value your opinion.”
The first captain looked at his watch.
“We must go,” he said. “All my best wishes.”
“All my best wishes and many thanks,” I said. I shook hands with the third doctor. “Capitano Varini—Tenente Enry,” and they all three went out of the room.
“Miss Gage,” I called. She came in. “Please ask the house doctor to come back a minute.”
He came in holding his cap and stood by the bed. “Did you wish to see me?”
“Yes. I can’t wait six months to be operated on. My God, doctor, did you ever stay in bed six months?”
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