Under the darkness I reached my one good hand up and took my
own picture from its place. So many of us carried pictures over our
hearts in those days. I pretended then to search once more, telling him
to have courage, and then I said, 'Is this it?' He fumbled for it, and
his hand caught it quickly up under his chin. He was so glad. He thanked
me for finding it, and then he lay still, panting. After a while--we
both wanted water--I crawled away to where I heard a running stream. It
must have been farther than I thought, and I couldn't be quick because
so much of me was numb and had to be dragged. But I reached the water
and filled a canteen I had found on the way. As soon as I could manage
it I went back to him with the water, but I must have been gone a long
time. He wasn't there. But as I crawled near where he had lain, I put my
hand on a little square case such as I had given him. I thought it must
be mine. I lost consciousness again. When I awoke two hospital stewards
carried me on a stretcher, and a field surgeon walked beside us. I still
had the picture, and not for many days did I know that it wasn't my own.
After that I forgot it--but I've already told you of that.
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