Looking at the diagnosis
card that we found, we learned that the patient, Lieut. Ira
Ellsworth Lady, had had an amputation of his limb above the
knee, and that he also had been gassed.
The first question that he asked as we stood by his cot, when he
again regained consciousness was: "How am I wounded?" When we
told him the misfortune which had befallen him, a shudder ran
through his frame as he repeated: "It is bad enough, but it
might have been worse." A shade of sadness spread over those
noble features but it was only for a moment, and he appeared
utterly resigned to his cruel fate.
Always there was that smile of appreciation as we moved among
the numerous cots of the suffering and dying. Whether in the
morning upon inquiring how he had spent the night, or after the
thick curtains were lowered at the windows, that no gleam of
light might reveal our location to hostile planes, or when we
paused at his bedside to wish him a painless night and restful
slumber, we were always greeted by kind words of hope and cheer
and a pleasant smile. How those cheery good-nights softened the
roaring cannon, and screaming shells into a mere echo, and that
smiling countenance made radiant the grim halls of indescribable
suffering and death!
Well do we remember that Lieut. Lady's concern was not for
himself but only for the welfare of others.
Pages:
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167