The noncommissioned officer in charge
of the squad--chief orderly I suppose you might call him--held by
leashes four Red Cross dogs.
In Belgium, back in August, I had seen so-called dog batteries. Going
into Louvain on the day the Belgian Army, or what was left of it, fell
back into Brussels, I passed a valley where many dogs were hitched to
small machine guns; and I could not help wondering what would happen to
the artillery formation, and what to the discipline of the pack, if a
rabbit should choose that moment for darting across the battle front.
These, however, were the first dogs I had found engaged in hospital-
corps employment. They were big, wolfish-looking hounds, shaggy and
sharp-nosed; and each of the four wore a collar of bells on his neck,
and a cloth harness on his shoulders, with the red Maltese cross
displayed on its top and sides. Their business was to go to the place
where fighting had taken place and search out the fallen.
At this business they were reputed to be highly efficient.
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