I particularly remember one other man who was brought in off this first
train. He was a young giant. For certain the old father of Frederick
the Great would have had him in his regiment of Grenadier Guards. Well,
for that matter, he was a grenadier in the employ of the same family
now. He hobbled in under his own motive power and leaned against the
wall until the first flurry was over. Then, at a nod from one of the
shirt-sleeved surgeons, he stretched himself upon a bare wooden table
which had just been vacated and indicated that he wanted relief for his
leg--which leg, I recall, was incased in a rude, splintlike arrangement
of plaited straw. The surgeon took off the straw and the packing
beneath it. The giant had a hole right through his knee, from side to
side, and the flesh all about it was horribly swollen and purplish-
black. So the surgeon soused the joint, wound and all, with iodine; the
youth meanwhile staring blandly up at the ceiling with his arms crossed
on his wide breast.
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