Sunday, December 17, 2017

NOT A SACRIFICE (A Story from WWI)

A story came down to me from “only God knows where” sometime in the past couple of decades, and I recount it here.
During the First World War, soldiers and officers of numerous countries were engaged in an all-out melee designed, it would seem, to determine whether the Allied or Central (Axis) powers would first tire of the senseless murder and mayhem, and “cry uncle” before the other.
Major “Pierre Gardot” of the French Army was well-known for his bravery, and never expected anything of his men which he, himself, wasn’t willing to accomplish.
And it so happened that on such and such a day, a German mortar shell sailed through the midst of his battalion, and landed within yards of the makeshift dirt tunnel which served as his headquarters, and bedroom. Sadly, a fragment of the metal shell slammed into Major Gardot’s right leg; badly injuring it.
As might be expected, the troops who loved and admired the fearless officer quickly set to work, tying a tourniquet tightly below the knee, and putting him on a stretcher for transport to a nearby field hospital.
As Pierre arrived at the hospital, the nurses and doctors there immediately recognized him as a man who had often stopped by to check on the wounded soldiers in his command. And as the major was fading in and out, he heard a nurse say,
“Oh, what a wonderful man he is. Oh, what a sacrifice!”
And while the doctors managed to save his life, they could not save his limb, and during the course of a necessarily speedy operation amputated the officer’s leg. Of course, when the good soldier awoke he noticed the bandages and the bloody stump where his leg had once resided.
And then he heard the same words repeated that he’d previously heard as he had drifted in and out of consciousness. You see, two French nurses were talking almost, (but not quite) out of earshot.
For one said,
“Oh, what a fine young officer he is.“
To which the other responded,
“Oh, what a sacrifice.”
With this Major Gardot summoned the nurses to his bedside, and taking each by a hand, looked intently into their eyes, and said,

“My dear ladies, it was no sacrifice. It was my gift to the country and people whom I so desperately love.”

By William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from "(Mc)Donald's Daily Diary" Vol. 74, Copyright pending

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