PEP and his master were finally assigned to duty in the great hospital at Brest and life went on there quite to the dog’s liking. The hospital was composed of a number of long, low buildings, all cool, clean, and quiet. There were so many buildings and wards for different ailments that Pep wondered how his master could ever remember where all his patients were. When the doctor was too busy to have him around, Pep spent his time in the dispensary, where he was a prime favorite with Captain Everts, who had charge of this important portion of the hospital. The captain was also a doctor, so sometimes his friends called him “Doc” and sometimes “Cap,” but all were very respectful.
[74]There was a fine soft rug under a great table and here Pep would lie for hours watching the doctors and nurses come and go. Some of them spoke to him and some did not. For some of them he would grin and wag his tail, but the majority he hardly deigned to notice.
He usually went with the doctor for his morning rounds through the wards. He would follow sedately at his master’s heels from ward to ward.
When his master stopped to examine a patient, Pep stopped and watched proceedings narrowly. There were several things that he noticed his master always did. First he would say “Good morning” and “How are you this fine day?” The doctor always said that no matter if it was raining buckets full, and it was either raining or cloudy most of the time.
Then the doctor would go to the paper which they called a chart at the head of the bed and study it intently. Pep could usually tell whether or not his master was pleased with what he saw on the chart.
When he was not pleased, the doctor[75] would take out his watch and hold the man’s wrist. He would also sometimes look at the patient’s tongue, but usually the surgeon spent his time putting on bandages, changing dressings, and doing other needful things for the poor wounded soldiers.
Some of the men would speak to Pep and for some of them he would stand on his hind legs and let them stroke his head. If he liked the soldier, he would lick his hand. So it happened that many of the soldiers came to look for Pep’s morning visit as much as they did for the doctor’s.
He would often visit at the convalescents’ ward on his own account. There the men were up walking around, or sitting in chairs. Usually they would be playing cards, reading, or writing letters home.
They often took Pep into their confidence and told him about their sweethearts at home, or that he reminded them of a dog they once knew. Several of the soldiers in this ward became very fond of Pep and he of them. He would allow himself to be stroked and petted a great deal by his favorites. He felt in some way that it helped the[76] soldiers to pet him. He knew that he and his master were here to help the soldiers, so he would gladly sacrifice his dignity in the good cause.
He would sit gravely listening for half an hour at a time while the soldiers talked excitedly about the battles they had been in. He noted that their faces always grew grave or angry when they mentioned the word Boche. So he finally decided in his dog way, which was not quite clear as to the reasons why, that Boche meant something bad. It was probably the enemy, the thing that they were all out here to fight.
Finally one of the men who was fond of dogs and had a trick dog at home taught Pep to growl at the mention of the Boche, and this accomplishment greatly pleased the soldiers.
Every two or three days the activities at the hospital would be doubled and then Pep would often hear the word battle. That meant that the number of ambulances arriving that day would be greatly increased. At such times he was always out in the great quadrangle before the main building watching[77] the ambulances come and go, and the nurses and doctors unload the wounded men. It was a serious time. No one laughed or joked here as they did in the dispensary. At such times his master would not even notice him when he rubbed against his leg to attract his attention.
Pep slept on his fine rug under the table in the dispensary. Some one was always on duty, and nurses were coming and going all night. In fact, the hospital was almost as busy during the night as it was in the day time.
One night when he had been there about three weeks he was awakened by the most terrible thunderstorm that he had ever heard, or at least that was what he thought it. The thunder claps came one after another in quick succession. Only they were much more staccato than thunder, more like giant firecrackers. Nurses and doctors were hurrying to and fro, and the orderly hospital was turned into pandemonium.
Pep came hurriedly out of his place of hiding under the table to discover what was the matter, and soon heard the word Boche.[78] Every one was so angry that he decided the Boche must have something to do with the thunderstorm, but just what he could not imagine.
He was trotting about after the captain growling softly to himself when a thunderbolt much louder than the rest exploded right in their midst. Pep heard the sound of breaking glass all about him. Some of the pieces stuck in his skin and the air was filled with a pungent liquid that drenched Pep’s back.
He growled savagely, but his growls changed to yelps when the liquid began eating into his skin. With yelps of pain he fled from the dispensary, out into the open air. This did not help much, however, as the liquid still burned fiercely. All was excitement outside. The thunder had ceased but broken glass was everywhere, while in many places there were bricks and timbers and splintered boards thrown about in every direction.
Finally an orderly noticed Pep’s distress and examined him. He brought ointment and rubbed the dog’s back till the burning[79] almost ceased. But in the morning it was seen that he had lost a large patch of hair just back of his shoulders. This was his first wound at the hands of the Boche, but not his last.
The terrible thunderstorm which Pep had been through was a Boche bombing expedition which had the base hospital as its mark.
So Pep learned that there were devils in the deep and devils in the sky, and he knew from what was said about them that they were all Boches.
After that night he growled louder than ever at the word Boche.
One day about a week after the night bombing expedition Pep’s master came into the dispensary. Pep was lying under the table on his favorite rug, asleep, but he aroused himself at the familiar step.
“Hello, old sport,” said the physician, tossing a stick of cinnamon candy under the table to the dog.
Pep was very fond of candy, especially of cinnamon. His master, who was something of a joker, said it was because of the bark in it. The terrier wagged his tail in appreciation,[80] swallowed the candy after two or three crunches and came out to greet his master.
The doctor sat down heavily in the easy chair by the table and motioned for Pep to come up into his lap. This was a privilege for special occasions and the dog complied with alacrity.
The doctor looked about the room wearily. He had just come off duty after eighteen hours, and was very tired. The large room was nearly empty, the only other occupant being a young man who sat at a typewriter clicking away for dear life at the other end of the room.
“It’s just you and I, Pep,” said the man, running the dog’s silky ears through his fingers in a way the terrier loved. “We can have a good visit, Pep. I’m lonesome, old chap. I want you to comfort me. I am thinking of the dear old home and the mistress. What do you suppose the little woman is doing to-day? I’ll bet you another stick of candy against three wags of your tail that she is thinking of us. I am sure of that, old sport.”
[81]The dog took the proffered candy gingerly in his teeth and then dropped it disdainfully on the floor. His master was incredulous, so stooped and picked up the candy and offered it again. Pep was usually ravenous for candy but he again dropped it on the floor, then sat up very s............