Three days afterward, at a hospital base where a hospital train was just discharging its load of wounded, Bok walked among the boys as they lay on their stretchers on the railroad platform waiting for bearers to carry them into the huts.

As he approached one stretcher, a cheery voice called, "Hello, Mr.Bok.

Here I am again." It was the boy he had left just seventy-two hours before hearty and well.
"Well, my boy, you weren't in it long, were you ?" "No, sir," answered the boy; "Fritzie sure got me first thing.

Hadn't gone a hundred yards over the top.

Got a cigarette ?" (the invariable question).
Bok handed a cigarette to the boy, who then said: "Mind sticking it in my mouth ?" Bok did so and then offered him a light; the boy continued, all with his wonderful smile: "If you don't mind, would you just light it?
You see, Fritzie kept both of my hooks as souvenirs." With both arms amputated, the boy could still jest and smile! It was the same boy who on his hospital cot the next day said: "Don't you think you could do something for the chap next to me, there on my left?
He's really suffering: cried like hell all last night.