"
Abbe Klein tells the curious story of a Zouave and his faithful dog. In
one of the zigzag corridors connecting the trenches near Arras the man
was terribly wounded by a shell that killed all his companions and left
him three-quarters buried in the earth. With only the dead around him,
he "felt himself going to discouragement," to use the author's mild
phrase, when his dog, which had never left him since the beginning of
the war, arrived and began showing every sign of distress and affection.
The wounded man told the author:
It is not true that he dug me out, but he roused my courage. I
commenced to free my arms, my head, the rest of my body.
Seeing this, he began scratching-with all his might around me,
and then caressed me, licking my wounds. The lower part of my
right leg was torn off, the left wounded in the calf, a piece
of shell in the back, two fingers cut off, and the right arm
burned. I dragged myself bleeding to the trench, where I
waited an hour for the litter carriers. They brought me to the
ambulance post at Roclincourt, where my foot was taken off,
shoe and all; it hung only by a tendon. From there I was
carried on a stretcher to Anzin, then in a carriage to another
ambulance post, where they carved me some more.
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