Part 44 (2/2)
The official telegram flashed over the wire and in due time came a letter with more satisfying details. The letter was characteristic of David: ”I suppose you heard that the Boche got me, but he didn't get all of me, just one leg. What hurts me most is the fact that I didn't get a few Huns first or do some real thing for the cause before I got knocked out. I know you'll feel better satisfied if I tell you all about it.
Several of the other boys and I left the town where we were stationed and went to Paris for a few days. It was our first pleasure trip since we came to this side. We gazed upon the things we studied about in school--Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, and so forth. Later we went to a railroad station where refugees were coming in, fleeing from the invading Huns. I can't ever forget that sight! Women and children they were, but such women and children! Women who had gone through h.e.l.l and children who had seen more horror in their few years that we can ever dream possible. Terror and suffering have lodged shadows in their eyes till one wonders if some of them will ever smile or laugh again. Many of them were wounded and in need of medical care. They carried with them their sole possessions, all of their belongings they could gather and take with them as they rushed away from the hordes of the enemy soldiers. We helped to place them into Red Cross vans to be taken to a safe place in the southern part of the country. As we were putting them into the vans the signal came that an air raid was on. The subways are places for refuge during the raids, so we hurried them out of the vans and into subways. They all got in safely but I was a bit too slow. I got knocked out and my right leg was so badly splintered that I'm better off without it. The thing worries me most is that I'll be sent home out of the fight before I fairly got into it.”
”Oh, Mother Bab,” Phbe said sobbingly, ”his right leg's gone!”
”It might be worse. But--I wish I could be with him.”
”But isn't it just like him,” said Phbe proudly, ”to write as though it was carelessness caused the accident, when we know he got others to safety and never thought of himself. He was just as brave as the boys who fight.”
”Yes. There is still much to be thankful for. Many mothers will get sadder news than mine. You must write him a long letter.”
It was a long letter, indeed, that the mother dictated to her boy. When it was written Phbe added a little postscript, ”David, I'm mighty proud of you!” To this he responded, ”Thank you for your pride in me, but don't you go making a hero of me; I can't live up to that when I get home. Guess I'll be sent back as soon as my leg is healed. Uncle Sam has no need of me here since I bungled things and left a leg in Paris. I'll have to do the rest of my bit on the farm. I wasn't a howling success as a farmer when I had two legs, but perhaps my luck has turned. I'm going to raise chickens and do my best to make the little farm a paying one.”
”He's the same cheerful David,” thought the girl, ”and we'll have to keep cheerful about it, too.”
But it was no easy matter to continue steadfast in cheerfulness during the long days of the summer. Phbe and Mother Bab shared the anxiety of many others as the news came that the armies of the enemy were pus.h.i.+ng nearer to Paris, nearer, and nearer, with the Americans and their allies fighting like demons and contesting every inch of the ground. A fear rose in Phbe--what if the Germans should reach Paris, what if they should win the war! ”But it can't be!” she thought.
Her confidence was not unwarranted. Soon came the turn of the tide and the German drive was checked. One July day shrieking whistles, frenzied ringing of bells, impromptu parades and waving flags, spread the news that ”America's contemptible little army” was helping to push the Germans back, back!
”It's the beginning of the end for the Germans,” said Phbe jubilantly as she ran to Mother Bab with the news. ”If they once start running they'll sprint pretty lively. We'll have to tell David about the excitement in town when the whistles blew--but, ach, I forgot! He won't think that was much excitement after he's been in _real_ excitement.”
Mother Bab laughed with the girl. ”But we'll have lots to tell him when he comes back,” she said. ”And won't he be glad I can see!”
CHAPTER x.x.xVI
DAVID'S RETURN
IT was October of 1918 when David Eby alighted from the train at Greenwald and started out the country road to his home. He could not resist the temptation to run into the yard of the gray farmhouse and into the kitchen where Aunt Maria and Phbe were working.
”David!”
”Why, David!”
The cries came gladly from the two women as he bounded over the sill and extended his hand, first to the older woman, then to Phbe.
”I just had to stop in here for a minute! Then I must run up the hill to mother. This place looks too good to pa.s.s by. How are you? You're both looking fine.”
”Ach, we're well,” Aunt Maria had to answer, Phbe remaining speechless.
”But why, David! You got two legs and no crutches! I thought you lost a leg.”
”I did,” he said, smiling, ”but Uncle Sam gave me another one.”
”Why, abody'd hardly know it. Ain't, Phbe, he just limps a little? Now I bet your mom'll be glad to see you--to have you back again, I mean.”
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