responsibility. I will make a report. Wounded shot by lieutenant of artillery in first curing post. Shoot him. Go ahead shoot him.”
“You are not a human being.”
“My business is to care for the wounded, not to kill them. That is for gentlemen of the artillery.”
“Why don’t you care for him then?”
“I have done so. I have done all that can be done.”
“Why don’t you send him down on the cable railway?”
“Who are you to ask me questions? Are you my superior officer? Are you in command of this dressing post? Do me the courtesy to answer.”
The lieutenant of artillery said nothing. The others in the room were all soldiers and there were no other officers present.
“Answer me,” said the doctor holding a needle up in his forceps. “Give me a response.”
“F— yourself,” said the artillery officer.
“So,” said the doctor. “So, you said that. All right. All right. We shall see.”
The lieutenant of artillery stood up and walked toward him.
“F— yourself,” he said. “F— yourself. F— your mother. F— your sister….”
The doctor tossed the saucer full of iodine in his face. As he came toward him, blinded, the lieutenant fumbled for his pistol. The doctor skipped quickly behind him, tripped him and, as he fell to the floor, kicked him several times and picked up the pistol in his rubber gloves. The lieutenant sat on the floor holding his good hand to his eyes.
“I’ll kill you!” he said. “I’ll kill you as soon as I can see.”
“I am the boss,” said the doctor. “All is forgiven since you know I am the boss. You cannot kill me because I have your pistol. Sergeant! Adjutant! Adjutant!”
“The adjutant is at the cable railway,” said the sergeant.
“Wipe out this officer’s eyes with alcohol and water. He has got iodine in them. Bring me the basin to wash my hands. I will take this officer next.”
