was so clean and gray, and then
suddenly he saw a fly walking upon it. The sight of this fly, the suddenness of seeing this small
black speck on a sea of gray,
brushed the surface of his brain, and quickly, in that second, he remembered everything. He
remembered the Spitfire and he
remembered the altimeter showing twenty-one thousand feet. He remembered the pushing back
of the hood with both hands,
and he remembered the bailing out. He remembered his leg.
It seemed all right now. He looked down at the end of the bed, but he could not tell. He put one
hand underneath the
bedclothes and felt for his knees. He found one of them, but when he felt for the other, his hand
touched something which was
soft and covered in bandages.
Just then the door opened and a nurse came in.
BEWARE OF THE DOG
5
“Hello,” she said. “So you’ve waked up at last.”
She was not good-looking, but she was large and clean. She was between thirty and forty and she
had fair hair. More than that
he did not notice.
“Where am I?”
“You’re a lucky fellow. You landed in a wood near the beach. You’re in Brighton. They brought
you in two days ago, and now
you’re all fixed up. You look fine.”
“I’ve lost a leg,” he said.
“That’s nothing. We’ll get you another one. Now you must go to sleep. The doctor will be coming
to see you in about an hour.”
She picked up the basin and the medicine glass and went out.
But he did not sleep. He wanted to keep his eyes open because he was frightened that if he shut
them again everything would
go away. He lay looking at the ceiling. The fly was still there. It was very energetic. It would run
forward very fast for a few
inches, then it would stop. Then it would run forward again, stop, run forward, stop, and every
now and then it would take off
and buzz around viciously in small circles. It always landed back in the same place on the ceiling
and started running and
stopping all over again. He watched it for so long that after a while it was no longer a fly, but
only a black speck upon a sea of
gray, and he was still watching it when the nurse opened the door, and stood aside while the
doctor came in. He was an Army
doctor, a major, and he had some last war ribbons on his chest. He was bald and small, but he
had a cheerful face and kind
eyes.
“Well, well,” he said. “So you’ve decided to wake up at last. How are you feeling?”
“I feel all right.”
“That’s the stuff. You’ll be up and about in no time.”
The doctor took his wrist to feel his pulse.
“By the way,” he said, “some of the lads from your squadron were ringing up and asking about
you. They wanted to come along
BEWARE OF THE DOG
6
and see you, but I said that they’d better wait a day or two. Told them you were all right, and that
they could come and see you
a little later on. Just lie quiet and take it easy for a bit. Got something to read?” He glanced at the
table with the roses. “No.
Well, nurse will look after you. She’ll get you anything you want.” With that he waved his hand
and went out, followed by the
large clean nurse.
When they had gone, he lay back and looked at the ceiling again. The fly was still there and as he
lay watching it he heard the
noise of an airplane in the distance. He lay listening to the sound of its engines. It was a long way
away. I wonder what it is, he
thought. Let me see if I can place it. Suddenly he jerked his head sharply to one side. Anyone
who has been bombed can tell
the noise of a Junkers 88. They can tell most other German bombers for that matter, but
especially a Junkers 88. The engines
seem to sing a duet. There is a deep vibrating bass voice and with it there is a high pitched tenor.