“That’s all,” said Captain Ned.  “I’m going to have a wash-up.”  He lifted a grease-stained hand to his cheek, rubbed his unshaven beard, and grinned.  “Any letters?”

“Whole bag of stuff.  Smithie put it on your desk.”

[Sidenote:  “Trotzky” and “Rasputin.”]

Captain Ned wandered off.  Presently, the door opened again, and three more veterans of the patrol cruised in, also in ancient uniforms.  There were more cheers; more friendly cries.  It was unanimously decided that the “Trotzky” of the first lot had better take a back seat, since the second in command of the newcomers was “a perfect ringer for Rasputin.”

“See anything?”

[Sidenote:  A British patrol hunts a lost torpedo.]

“Nothing much.  There’s a bit of wreckage just off shore.  Saw a British patrol boat early Tuesday morning.  I was on the surface, lying between her and the sunrise; she was hidden by a low-lying swirl of fog; she saw us first.  When we saw her, I made signals, and over she came.  Guess what the old bird wanted—­wanted to know if I’d seen a torpedo he’d fired at me! An old scout with white whiskers; one of those retired captains, I suppose, who has gone back on the job.  He admitted he had received the Admiralty notes about us, but thought we acted suspicious.  Did you ever hear of such nerve?”

[Sidenote:  Courage of the submarine patrol.]

When the war was young, I served on land with messieurs les poilus.  I have seen the contests of aviators, also trench-raids and the fighting for Verdun.  Since then I have seen the war at sea.  To my mind, if there is one service of this war which more than any other requires those qualities of endurance, skill, and courage whose blend the fighting men call—­Elizabethanly, but oh, so truly—­“guts,” it is the submarine patrol.

Copyright, Atlantic Monthly, October, 1918.

* * * * *

France took tender care of her wounded heroes, and the following narrative gives a number of touching incidents observed by one who visited several of the French hospitals and received stories and experiences from the wounded soldiers.

WOUNDED HEROES OF FRANCE

ABBE FELIX KLEIN

The descriptions which are to follow belong to history already ancient; to the end of 1917 and the beginning of 1918.  So rapid is the march of events with us now!

[Sidenote:  The enthusiasm of a wounded soldier in 1914.]

The soldier wounded during the first months of the War came to us overflowing with enthusiasm, eager to express himself.  His mind was full of picturesque and varied impressions and he asked for nothing better than to tell about them.  Willingly he described the emotions and spirit of the moment of departure; his curiosity in the presence of the unknown, the shock of the first contact with the enemy, the dizzy