menu_book Chapter 4

Chapter 4 of Grace Harlow with the Marines at Chateau Thierry by Jesse Graham Flower. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Ashley Jane. Chapter 4 Grace Harlow's Reward The sun was blazing down into her face when Grace began to be dimly conscious of her existence.

Distant reverberations, with now and then a more definite sound in the form of a heavy explosion, shook the earth beneath her Every vibration seemed to send keen-pointed darts through her head like so many stabs Grace moaned, her eyelids were too heavy to lift and the effort to move her body sent her back into oblivion This condition, however, did not last long When once more consciousness returned, Grace felt something soft and hot against her cheek,

that something moved with a caressing motion. With a supreme effort the Overton girl opened her eyes, and there, bending over her, loomed a dog, fierce-looking, its face wrinkled in inquiry or perplexity, she could not decide which, its back loaded with equipment,

and on that equipment stood out the familiar emblem of the Red Cross. Nothing in the world had ever looked more welcome to Grace Harlow, and reaching up her hand, she patted the grizzled head of the animal. He nosed her a little roughly, which brought an exclamation of pain from the wounded ambulance driver.

Oh, don't, she moaned. You hurt my head, doggy, dear. It was then that Grace discovered the canteen that the animal carried, and this she removed with trembling fingers and carried it to her lips, taking in a long delicious draught of water.

How heavenly, murmured Grace. You, you noble fellow, if you could but know. Pouring out a little water in the palm of a trembling hand, Grace held it out unsteadily to the dog, and the animal eagerly lapped it up and once more caressed her cheek.

He then began nosing her again, as if he were trying to roll her over, which Grace, knowing something about those Red Cross lifesavers, interpreted to mean that the animal was trying to make her get up and follow him. I will try it, old fellow, she murmured, but I fear I shan't be much of a success. First, let me see if I am all here.

Struggling to a sitting position, with her head spinning dizzily, Grace took an inventory of herself, with the result that she found no wound save on the left side of her head, which was so sore that she could scarce bear the touch of her hand on it. To speak hurt her. Everything hurt her, all in the same spot, the left side of her head, and she knew that she had been wounded there, presumably raked by a shell splinter,

but that she was conscious and able to speak and act, even feebly, told the Overton girl that she had not sustained a serious wound. This gave Grace more confidence and assisted her in her effort to help herself. She was at the bottom of a shell hole and the banks on either side of her looked formidable, so far as climbing them was concerned. Let me get hold of your tail, doggy, she begged after having replaced the canteen on the animal's pack in case some other sufferer

should need it. Then you try, with what help I can give you, to pull me out of this hole. Someone may see us and come to the rescue. The red cross dog, seeming to understand, turned and backed toward her, for, though Grace was unaware of the fact, the animal had been trained to do this very thing. Grasping his tail, she struggled to her knees and the dog began to tug. Fearing that she might pull the noble fellow's tail clear off, Grace exerted a greater effort to

help herself, every movement on her part again starting those maddening darts through her head. Halfway up everything suddenly grew black about her and Grace collapsed. Rolling down to the bottom of the shell hole she lay moaning but soon the moaning ceased leaving her pale and motionless. The red cross dog, his face wearing a deeper frown than before, peered down into the shell hole then he galloped away with one of her driving gloves between his teeth.

The next recollection that Grace had was that of hearing a dog bark, followed by voices, and then of someone bending over her. She did not know whether these things were taking place now, or had taken place years and years before. I'm awfully muddled, she murmured, and it was then that she heard a voice say,

Yes, she is alive. Grace felt herself being picked up and lifted up and up. Then she was laid out on what, after a few moments, she visualised as a stretcher. At least I'm a stretcher case myself, she mumbled. It seems good to be even that.

It was rather a rough journey to the ambulance, the barking of the dog sounding all around her, until Grace began to wonder how many dogs there were about. but the journey was as nothing to what was in store for her in the ambulance. Such a shaking up, such agonising pains as shot through her head and body, she never would have believed that a human being could endure.

Grace resolved then and there that if ever she were able to drive again, carrying wounded men, she would drive slowly, oh so slowly, unless the drive meant life and death for her patient. The stretcher men at the field hospital took her later in the day to the evacuation hospital. In the afternoon full consciousness returned and the girl, awakening, found Alfreda Briggs holding her hand.

Alfreda, she murmured with a little pressure of the hand. Once upon a time, long, long ago, you called my ambulance a jigglety wagon. You said it. What does my chart say? Shell splinter hit you on the head. Scalp wound, loss of blood and...

Very good. That is sufficient. If you find any other damages to my anatomy they will have me in a base hospital for the rest of the summer. I must be out of here by tomorrow and carry on again for I am needed. Did they tell you the dog found me?

No, not until the dog himself found his way in here and smelled you out. They say it is most remarkable. As a Red Cross dog, after having done his duty in bringing in some part of a wounded man's equipment suddenly loses all interest in the patient, and will pay not the slightest attention to his coaxings. He is outside somewhere now,

but refuses to work. They threw him out of here twice before he stayed out. Dear old fellow, I wish they would give him to me. Perhaps his interest in me is due to the fact that he never picked up a woman on the battlefield before. Grace smiled wanly. Were I to be called a on to answer why. I should say, loyal heart, that the reason lay deeper," declared Elfridia gently.

Is Corporal O'Malley here, do you know? I never heard of him. Why? Nothing. Only he is the man I was after when that shell or whatever it was smacked us. I hope he wasn't killed. How is the battle going? The marines are gaining ground slowly. Of course they are. They wouldn't be marines if they were not. You know what they say a marine does, do you not?

Alfreda said she did not know to what Grace referred. What a marine has, he holds. He kills or gets killed. He does not surrender. He does not retreat. That tells the whole story, nothing less than the whole story, so why shouldn't they be gaining? Grace was weary from talking and a few moments later turned her head away and went to sleep. That head was so bandaged that very little of her face was visible. All that day and the next she was kept on her cot,

then she was permitted to sit up, to sit outside, but no sooner was she out in the sunshine of the warm June day, listening to the distant drumming of the guns, than a cold nose was rubbed against her hand. It was the red cross dog that had found her in the shell hole out there on the battlefield that Grace saw standing beside her chair, and she slipped an arm about his neck, placing her cheek against his shaggy head, petting and talking to him soothingly. The dog was delighted, but Grace,

seeing that he did not appear to understand her, addressing him in French, said, Down, whereupon the dog flattened himself on the ground. Sir, you are a Frenchman's doggy, are you? Well, well, we shall have to teach you to understand English, even if you can't learn to speak it. She learned later that this and other animals used at the station were French dogs trained by a French master. Grace entertained herself with teaching him a few English words of command,

and before the day was done he responded to three commands in English as readily as when they were delivered to him in French. Grace went to her cot happy that night, happy principally because she had been informed that by the end of the week, provided she were a good patient in the meantime, she might be able to drive again. It was on the afternoon of the fourth day in the hospital that Grace, now permitted to walk about, strolled out into the sunlit yard and sat down in her chair

with the dog whose name she had learned was Red. No amount of urging had induced Red to go back to work, but Grace believed that she would be able to get him at it again by the time she herself was ready for service. The wound on her head had healed fairly well, but Grace had lost some of her wonderful dark brown hair where the surgeon had shaved it off, though this she could cover nicely by drawing long strands down over it when it was prudent to do so. Just yet it was not best

to cover the wound. It seemed to Grace on this particular afternoon that there was an unusual number of patients and others out for a sunning, and nearly all of them were looking at her and smiling at her, all of which Grace returned, wholly unexpecting that there was a special reason for this sudden interest. Then Elfrida came out. Grace eyed her friend inquiringly. J. Elfrida, you have something on your mind. You are withholding something from me.

Don't say you are not. I know you too well. Now what is it? Perhaps I am so happy that you are well again, replied Elfrida, avoiding Grace's eyes. And also, likewise, perhaps not, returned Grace. Have any of these bright young doctors been whispering sweet nothings in your ear? Come now, fess up. I have feared all along that this war would sound the doom not only of the Kaiser,

but of J. Alfreda Briggs's bachelorhood. Don't be silly, loyal heart. I have yet to meet the man for whom I should be willing to give up my name and assume another. That is exactly what I used to say, if you will recall. I did not know myself then, but I at last found that I had a heart.

had had a heart i should say but that the dearest fellow in the world had surreptitiously extracted it from its former entrenched position am i right right so far as you are concerned but not about me answered Elfrida with a slight elevation of the chin. Then what is it you are keeping from me? Admitting nothing, denying nothing, I refuse to tell you, Grace Harlow. Oh, very well, I shall find it out for myself then.

Elfrida agreed that Grace would, and the conversation shifted into other channels, Elfrida talking so fast to keep from reverting to the subject now uppermost in her mind, that not only Grace's suspicions but her curiosity were aroused. All eyes were suddenly turned toward the hospital building and looking Grace discovered a French officer,

a colonel accompanied by two young officers and Major Hughes, commanding officer of the hospital. A quick glance at Alfreda showed the colour mounting to her cheeks. Why, there is Colonel Fuchard, exclaimed Grace. He looks formal.

I wonder what is going on here? Alfreda reverted her face, appearing not to have heard the question that Grace asked of herself. The little group walked briskly out into the grounds, diagonally away from the spot where Grace was sitting. Then, at word from Major Hughes, turned and stepped straight toward the two Overton girls. Alfreda, they are coming after you, teased Grace.

I should like to know what you have been doing. I rather think you will find that it is yourself that has been doing something, observed J. Alfreda briefly. As the group approached, Grace got to her feet, clicked her heels together, and saluted, which each officer of the group returned, whereupon her right hand snapped back to her side. There was a dignity and a formality about the approach of these French officers

that caused Grace Harlow to stay the word of greeting that she was about to utter, for she had had several friendly chats with Colonel Fuchard and felt that she knew him sufficiently well to meet him on friendly turns. In the circumstances her intuition told her to remain silent though a slight flush had appeared in her cheeks

and Alfreda's by now were burning. Mrs. Gray, spoke up Major Hughes, Colonel Fuchard has something to say to you, something that he wishes us all to hear. The patients, some on crutches, others in wheelchairs,

backed by a group of Red Cross nurses and half a dozen grinning ambulance drivers, drew up to the rear of the officers. Alfreda Briggs had slipped around the rear and joined the others, leaving Grace standing there alone. A slender, graceful figure,

the beauty of her face accentuated by the faint traces of colour remaining after she had succeeded in controlling her emotions. Emotion stirred by the intuition that something of importance concerning herself was about to take place. But as to what that something might be, she possessed not the slightest inkling. Grace's intuition did not reach quite that far.

Mrs. Gray, began Colonel Furchard, speaking in English, for there were many within sound of his voice who did not understand French. It is my very great pleasure to greet you this afternoon and to tell you how much joy we all feel in being able to do so, to congratulate you on your happy escape and early recovery. The colonel bowed low, but Grace, standing at attention, was silent, waiting in quiet expectancy for whatever this preamble might lead up to. You have performed many brave deeds since you arrived in our much-loved country. You have rendered material assistance to our government in two great instances that I have no need to remind you of.

For the memory of both must still be a vivid memory to you, who were made to suffer for a long time, yourself under the sting of suspicion. The great and the noble as well as the small and the ignoble must suffer, that great things must be accomplished. It is the way of the world, is it not, my daughter? Grace inclined her head ever so little. It is not of these things that I am here to speak, but of a more recent event in which you are intimately concerned.

When you saved for the French government something like fifty horses, you performed a deed that stands alone in that it is the first time on record so far as known in the present conflict to the average person a horse is only a horse in wartime a horse is more than a horse he is a vital factor a factor not easy to replace what you did was in reality a big thing as well as a great humanitarian act. That you did it under fire in a gas-infested gully

adds to the deed still another phase and causes it to stand out among the many deeds of valour performed in this war by your countrymen. Mrs. Grey, continued the French officer, stepping up close to the now pale-faced Grace Harlow, I have the honour as well as the very great pleasure of conferring upon you, with the authority of my government, the Croix de Guerre, with one star. It is a decoration bestowed only upon the brave. That you will

wear it with honour I know, that other stars will be added I feel equally certain. The Colonel, taking her head between his hands, imprinted a kiss on each of Grace Harlow grey's cheeks, leaving there two tiny spots of red. Then from somewhere in the vicinity of that group of young ruffians of the ambulance corps came a low sibilant. Ah, I th-thank you, sir, stammered Grace. Then, bethinking herself of her military duty,

she poured herself back to more rigid attention and saluted with the snap and precision that was so characteristic of her. A great cheer rose from the patients and there was a great spontaneous waving of caps, crutches and steel helmets. Then a clear soprano voice rose from the group of nurses in Oh Say You Can See by the Dawn's Early Light and a hundred voices joined in the singing of the national anthem to the accompaniment of the pom-pom-pom-pom of the American heavy artillery

and the distant long-drawn boom, boom, boom of the heavy-throated guns of the enemy. Grace Harlow Gray, still considerably shaken from her trying experiences, sank down in her chair as the officers started away at the end of the anthem, during which they had all stood at salute, as of course had Grace Harlow herself, now on the verge of tears, but controlling her emotions with a mighty effort.

It was not that grace was overcome with the great honour that had bestowed upon her. It was the soul-stirring words of the country's anthem, and that for which those words stood, and for which those guns out there were lifting their mighty voices in that unceasing chorus,

pom-pom, pom-pom, that so stirred her and gripped her heartstrings.