Here is a little incident of the daily life of General Pau, a hero
of the Franco-Prussian war, in which he lost an arm:
A dozen French infantrymen, mud-begrimed, were resting in a
drizzling rain on the wayside under the dripping trees. The Corporal
sits and tries in vain to light his pipe, at intervals singing
lustily.
Suddenly the Corporal stands erect; his pipe is hidden behind his
back, and he makes a hasty salute. Through the fog and rain one of
the three great leaders of the French army has appeared.
"Why do you not wear your cap?" asks General Pau.
"I have lost my cap, General."
"Where did you lose it?"
"When we were attacked in the woods this morning. A branch knocked
it off, and I was too much in a hurry to go back and get it. It is
gone."
"Take my cap."
The Corporal fears the end of things; he will be punished for losing
his cap.
"Take it, I tell you, and wear it," says the General.
And the humble Corporal does as he is told and becomes resplendent,
like the sun in the cap, emblazoned with the glorious, golden oak
leaves. The General draws rein and canters away.
Since that day the Corporal marches along the country roads to the
frontier, proudly wearing the cap of General Pau.
"The General himself told me to wear it," he says to those who
protest. "I obey the General's orders, and the cap stays on my head."
The General knows his soldiers, and the world may understand why
this tired, bedraggled and weary army goes on marching and fighting
and dying for its commanders.