didnât happen twice as much. How the hell do you know, when youâre way up there and moving at that speed? How do you know which is which, when one and all are trying to cuddle into the ground? So it happened. There was an open farm shed, and one of my riflemen and I dived in there and took cover behind a woodpile. And that was where I found this little German kid, about three years old, frightened, almost catatonic with fearâand just a beautiful kid.â
I must have stopped there. He prodded me, and pointed out that the war had drawn small distinction between children and adults, and even less distinction between more beautiful and less beautiful children.
âWhat did you do?â
âI tried to provide cover for the child,â I explained patiently. âI put her in my arms and held my body over her. A bomb hit the shed. I wasnât hurt, but the rifleman there with meâhis name was Ruckermanâhe was killed. I came out into the open with the kid in my arms, warm and safe. Only the top of her head was gone. A freak hit. I suppose a bomb fragment sheared it clean off, and I stood there with the little girlâs brains dripping down on my shoulder. Then I was hit by the German machine-gun burst.â
âI see,â the psychiatrist said.
âYou have imagination then.â
âYou tell it well,â he said. âFeel any better?â
âNo.â
âMind a few more questions, Felton? I am keeping my promise to take my ass off your back, so just say No, if you wish.â
âYouâre very patient with me.â
He was. He had put up with my surliness and depression for weeks. Never lost his temper, which was the principal reason why he irritated me so.
âAll right. Question away.â
âNow that youâve told this to me, do you feel any different?â
âNo.â
âAny better?â
âNo.â
âThatâs good.â
âWhy is it good?â I asked him.
âWell, you seeâthe incident outraged you, but not in a traumatic sense. Apparently it doesnât hurt or help very much to recall it.â
âItâs not blocked, if you mean that. I can think about it whenever I wish to. It disgusts me.â
âCertainly. As I said, I believe your depression was entirely due to the condition of your legs. When you began to walk, the depression started to lift, and they tell me that in another few weeks your legs will be as good as ever. Well, not for mountain climbingâbut short of that, good enough. Tell me, Felton, why were you so insistent upon remaining in England for your convalescence? You pulled a good many strings. You could have been flown home, and the care stateside is better than here. They have all sorts of things and conveniences that we donât have.â
âI like England.â
âDo you? No girl awaited you hereâwhat do you like about us?â
âThere you go with your goddamn, nosey professional touch.â
âYes, of course. But, you see, Captain, you made your indictment universal. Man is a bloody horror. Quite so. Here, too. Isnât he?â
âOh, do get off my back,â I said to him, and that ended the interview; but by putting it down, âhe said,â âI said,â etc., I am able, my dear Jean, to convey the facts to you.
You ask whether I want to come home. The answer is, No. Not now, not in the foreseeable future. Perhaps never, but never is a hairy word, and who can tell?
You say that my share of motherâs estate brings me over a hundred dollars a week. I have no way to spend any of it, so let the lawyers piddle with it just as they have been doing. I have my own dole, my accumulated pay and a few hundred dollars I won playing bridge. Ample. As I said, I have nothing to spend it on.
As to what I desireâvery little indeed. I have no intentions of resuming the practice of corporate law. The first two years of it
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