我们在大清早到达米兰，他们在货车场上卸下了我们。一辆救护车送我到美国医院去。我躺在救护车里的一个担架上，无从知道车子经过的是城里哪一区，但是当他们抬下担架来时，我看见一家市场，一家开了门的酒店，店里一个姑娘正在把垃圾扫出来。街口有人在洒水，闻得到大清早的气息。他们放下担架，走进门去。回来时带来了一名门房。门房养着灰色的小胡子，头戴一顶门房制帽，没穿上衣。担架装不进电梯，于是他们讨论了一下，还是把我抬下担架，由电梯上楼呢，还是抬着担架爬楼梯。我听着他们讨论。他们终于决定乘电梯。他们把我从担架上抬下来。“慢一点，”我说。“轻一点。”
我们在电梯里挤做一团，而我的腿因为弯着，痛得好厉害。“让我的腿伸伸直，”我说。
“不行啊，中尉长官。没地方啊。”答我话的人用胳臂抱着我，而我的胳臂则攀住他的脖子。他口中一股浓烈的大蒜和红酒气味直冲着我的脸。“小心点，”另外一个人说。
“妈的，什么人不小心啊！”
“我还是说要小心点，”抬我脚的人又说了一遍。
我看着电梯的门关好，外边的铁格子拉上了，门房按按上四楼去的电钮。门房的样子好像很担心。电梯慢慢往上爬。
“重吧？”我问那个有大蒜味的家伙。
“哪里，”他说。他脸上在冒汗，喉咙里发出沉浊的声响。电梯稳定地上升，终于停住了。抬我脚的人打开门，走了出去。我们到了阳台上。那儿有好几扇门，门上有铜把手。抬脚的人按一按铃。我们听见门里边的电铃响。没有人来。由楼梯走上来的门房也到了。
“人呢？”抬担架的人问。“我不知道，”门房说。“他们睡在楼下。”
“找个人来吧。”
门房按按铃，敲敲门，随后打开门，走了进去。他回来时带来了一个戴眼镜的老妇人。她头发蓬松，一半垂了下来，她身穿护士制服。“我听不懂，”她说。“我听不懂意大利语。”
“我会讲英语，”我说。“他们要找个地方安置我。”
“房间都没有预备好。这里还不预备收容任何病人。”她挽一挽头发，近视地望望我。
“请给他们一个可以安置我的房间。”
“我不知道，”她说。“我们还不收病人。我不能在随便哪个房间里安置你。”
“随便什么房间都行，”我说。随即改用意大利语对门房说：“去找间空房间。”
“房间都是空的，”门房说。“你还是第一位病人哩。”他手里拿着帽子，望着那老年护士。
“看在基督份上，赶快给我个房间。”我的腿因为蜷曲着，越来越疼，我觉得真已痛入骨髓。门房走进门去，后面跟着那位灰发的护士，他们一会儿就赶回来。“跟我来，”他说。他们抬我走过一条长廊，进入一间关上了百叶窗的房间。房间里有新家具的味道。有一张床，一个大衣柜，上面有镜子。他们把我搁在床上。
“我可没法子铺被单，”妇人说。“被单都给锁起来了。”我不跟她答话。“我口袋里有钱，”我对门房说。“在扣好的口袋里。”门房把钱掏了出来。那两个抬担架的人站在床边，手里拿着帽子。“给他们俩每人五里拉，你自己也拿五里拉。我的病历卡在另外一个口袋里。你可以拿给护士。”
抬担架的人行礼道谢。“再会，”我说。“多谢多谢。”他们又行过礼，出去了。
“病历卡上，”我对护士说，“写明了我的伤情和已接受的治疗。”女人捡起病历卡，戴着眼镜观看。病历卡一共三张，对折着。“我不晓得怎么办才好，”她说。 “我看不懂意大利文。没有医生的吩咐，我不晓得怎么办。”她开始哭起来，把病历卡放在她罩衫的口袋里。“你是美国人吧？”她哭着问。“是的。请你把病历卡放在床边的桌子上。”
房间里阴暗、凉爽。我躺在床上，看得见房间另一端的大镜子，但看不清楚镜子里所反映的东西。门房站在床边。他脸长得好，一团和气。“你可以走了，”我对他说。“你也可以走了，”我对护士说。“贵姓？”“华克太太。”
“你可以走了，华克太太。我现在想睡一下。”
房间里只剩下我一个人了。房间里很凉爽，没有医院里那种气味。床垫稳固、舒服，我不动弹地躺着，几乎并不呼吸，腿痛减轻一点了，觉得很高兴。过了一会儿，我想喝水了，发现床边垂有一条按电铃的电线，便按按铃，但是没有人来。我睡去了。
醒来时我打量一下四周。阳光从百叶窗外漏进来。我看见那张大衣柜、空空的四壁和两张椅子。我的双腿扎着污秽的绷带，笔直伸出在床上。我很小心，两条腿动都不敢动。我口渴，又伸手按铃。我听见门打开，抬头一看，来了一位护士。她看上去很年轻，相当漂亮。
“早上好，”我说。
“早上好，”她说，走到床边来。“医生还没找到。他上科莫湖1去了。
谁也不知道有病人要来。你到底生什么病啊？”
“我受了伤。腿上，脚上，还有我的头也受了伤。”
“你叫什么？”
“亨利。弗雷德里克·亨利。”
“我给你洗一洗身。你的伤口我们不敢动，得等医生来。”
“巴克莱小姐在这儿吗？”
“不在。这儿没有姓这个的人。”
“我进来时那个哭哭啼啼的女人是谁？”
护士大笑起来。“那是华克太太。她值夜班，她睡着了。她想不到有病人要来。”
我们谈话时她替我脱去衣服，除了绷带以外，我的衣服全脱掉了，她就给我擦身，十分温和柔婉。擦了身以后，人很舒服。我头上扎着绷带，但她把绷带旁边的地方都洗了。
1 科莫湖位于意大利北部边境，长35 英里，宽3 英里，是著名的风景区。
“你在哪儿受的伤？”“伊孙左河上，在普拉伐的北面。”
“那又在哪儿啊？”
“哥里察的北面。”
我看得出这些地名她全陌生。
“你疼得厉害吗？”
“没什么。现在不大疼了。”
她在我口里放进一支体温计。
“意大利人是放在胁下的，”我说。
“别说话。”
她把体温计拔出来，看看，甩了一甩。
“几度？”
“你是不该知道的。”
“告诉我吧。”
“差不多正常。”
“我从来不发烧。我两条腿里边也装满着破铜烂铁。1”“你这话什么意思？”
“腿里边装满着迫击炮弹的碎片、旧螺丝钉和床的弹簧等等。”她摇头笑了一笑。
“你腿里边如果真的有这些异物，就一定会发炎，人发烧。”“好吧，”我说。“等着瞧吧。”
她走出房去，接着跟清早看到的那位老护士一同进来。她们俩一块儿铺床，我人仍旧躺在床上。这种铺床法很新奇，很可佩服。“这儿的主管是谁？”
“范坎本女士。”
“一共有多少护士。”
“只有我们两个。”
“岂不是还有人要来吗？”
“还有几位快到了。”
“她们什么时候到呢？”
“我不知道。作为一个病人，你问话问得太多了。”“我没生病，”我说，“我是受伤。”
她们铺好了床，我躺在那儿，身上身下都挨着一条干净光滑的被单。华克太太走出去，拿了一件睡衣的上衣回来。她们给我穿上了，我觉得又干净又整齐。
“你们待我真好，”我说。那个叫做盖琪小姐的护士娇笑了一下。“我可以喝杯水吗？”我问。
“当然可以。接着就给你开早点。”
“我倒不想吃早点。请你给我打开百叶窗好不好？”
房间里本来很暗，现在百叶窗一打开，变得阳光明亮，我望得见窗外的阳台，再过去是人家的瓦屋顶和烟囱。我望望这些瓦屋顶的上空，看见白云和碧蓝的天。
“难道你们不知道旁的护士们什么时候到吗？”
1 这句话可能是暗比耶稣的被钉十字架。
“你怎么老是问？难道我们待你有什么不周到？”
“你们待我很好。”
“你要不要用便盆？”
“试试看吧。”
她们帮我坐起来，扶着我试，但是不行。过后我躺着，从敞开的门望着外面的阳台。
“医生什么时候来？”
“等他回城来。我们设法打电话到科莫湖去找过他。”
“没有旁的医生吗？”
“他是本院的住院医生。”
盖琪小姐拿来一瓶水和一个杯子。我连喝了三杯后，她们就走了，我对窗外望了一会儿，又睡着了。中饭我吃了一点东西，午后医院的监督范坎本女士上来看我。她不喜欢我，我也不喜欢她。她个子小，麻利猜疑，当医院监督未免委屈了她。她盘问了我许多话，听她口气好像我参加意国军队是一桩丢脸的事。
“吃饭时我可以喝酒吗？”我问她。
“除非有医生的吩咐。”
“医生没来以前，我只好不喝是不是？”
“绝对不许喝。”
“你还是打算要把医生找来的吧？”“我们打电话到科莫湖去找过他。”
她出去了，盖琪小姐回进房来。
“你为什么对范坎本女士这么没礼貌？”她很熟练地替我做了些事情后，这么问道。
“我并不是存心这样的。可她太傲慢了。”
“她倒说你跋扈蛮横。”
“哪里。不过有医院而没医生，这是哪一种把戏？”
“他就要来了。她们打电话到科莫湖去找过他。”
“他在那儿干吗？游泳？”
“不。他在那儿有个诊所。”
“他们为什么不另外找个医生来？”
“嘘！嘘！你做个好孩子，他就会来的。”
我叫人去叫门房，他来时我用意大利语跟他说，叫他上酒店去给我买一瓶辛扎诺牌味美思和一尊基安蒂红酒，还有晚报。他去了，回来时用报纸包好酒拿进来，把报纸摊开，我叫他拔掉瓶塞，把红酒和味美思都放在床底下。他走了以后，我独自一人躺在床上看了一会报，看看前线的消息、阵亡军官的名单和他们受的勋章，随后从床底下提起那瓶味美思，笔直摆在我的肚子上，让阴冷的玻璃瓶冰着肚皮，一小口一小口地呷着，酒瓶底在肚皮上印上了圆圈儿。我看着外边屋顶上的天空渐渐暗下来。燕子在打圈子，我一边看着燕子和夜鹰在屋顶上飞，一边喝着味美思。盖琪小姐端来一个玻璃杯，里边是蛋奶酒。她进来时我赶快把味美思搁在床的另外一边。
“范坎本女士在这里边掺了些雪利酒，”她说。“你不该对她不客气。
她年纪不小了，在医院里负的责任又重大。华克太太太老了，无法帮她的忙。”
“她人很出色，”我说。“我很感谢她。”
“我就把你的晚饭端来。”
“不忙，”我说。“我不饿。”
她把托盘端来放在床边的桌子上，我谢谢她，吃了一点晚饭。饭后外边天暗了，我望得见探照灯的光柱在天空中晃动着。我望了一会儿就睡去了。我睡得很沉，只有一次流着汗惊醒过来，随后又睡去，竭力避免做梦。天还远远没有亮，我又醒了过来，听见鸡叫，清醒地躺着一直到天开始发亮。我很疲倦，天真亮了以后，又睡着了。
we got into milan early in the morning and they unloaded us in the freight yard. an ambulance took me to the american hospital. riding in the ambulance on a stretcher i could not tell what part of town we were passing through but when they unloaded the stretcher i saw a market-place and an open wine shop with a girl sweeping out. they were watering the street and it smelled of the early morning. they put the stretcher down and went in. the porter came out with them. he had gray mustaches, wore a doorman's cap and was in his shirt sleeves. the stretcher would not go into the elevator and they discussed whether it was better to lift me off the stretcher and go up in the elevator or carry the stretcher up the stairs. i listened to them discussing it. they decided on the elevator. they lifted me from the stretcher. "go easy," i said. "take it softly."
in the elevator we were crowded and as my legs bent the pain was very bad. "straighten out the legs," i said.
"we can't, signor tenente. there isn't room." the man who said this had his arm around me and my arm was around his neck. his breath came in my face metallic with garlic and red wine.
"be gentle," the other man said.
"son of a bitch who isn't gentle!"
"be gentle i say," the man with my feet repeated.
i saw the doors of the elevator closed, and the grill shut and the fourth-floor button pushed by the porter. the porter looked worried. the elevator rose slowly.
"heavy?" i asked the man with the garlic.
"nothing," he said. his face was sweating and he grunted. the elevator rose steadily and stopped. the man holding the feet opened the door and stepped out. we were on a balcony. there were several doors with brass knobs. the man carrying the feet pushed a button that rang a bell. we heard it inside the doors. no one came. then the porter came up the stairs.
"where are they?" the stretcher-bearers asked.
"i don't know," said the porter. "they sleep down stairs."
"get somebody."
the porter rang the bell, then knocked on the door, then he opened the door and went in. when he came back there was an elderly woman wearing glasses with him. her hair was loose and half-falling and she wore a nurse's dress.
"i can't understand," she said. "i can't understand italian."
"i can speak english," i said. "they want to put me somewhere."
"none of the rooms are ready. there isn't any patient expected." she tucked at her hair and looked at me near-sightedly.
"show them any room where they can put me."
"i don't know," she said. "there's no patient expected. i couldn't put you in just any room."
"any room will do," i said. then to the porter in italian, "find an empty room."
"they are all empty," said the porter. "you are the first patient." he held his cap in his hand and looked at the elderly nurse.
"for christ's sweet sake take me to some room." the pain had gone on and on with the legs bent and i could feel it going in and out of the bone. the porter went in the door, followed by the grayhaired woman, then came hurrying back. "follow me," he said. they carried me down a long hallway and into a room with drawn blinds. it smelled of new furniture. there was a bed and a big wardrobe with a mirror. they laid me down on the bed.
"i can't put on sheets," the woman said. "the sheets are locked up."
i did not speak to her. "there is money in my pocket," i said to the porter. "in the buttoned-down pocket." the porter took out the money. the two stretcher-bearers stood beside the bed holding their caps. "give them five lire apiece and five lire for yourself. my papers are in the other pocket. you may give them to the nurse."
the stretcher-bearers saluted and said thank you. "good-by," i said. "and many thanks." they saluted again and went out.
"those papers," i said to the nurse, "describe my case and the treatment already given."
the woman picked them up and looked at them through her glasses. there were three papers and they were folded. "i don't know what to do," she said. "i can't read italian. i can't do anything without the doctor's orders." she commenced to cry and put the papers in her apron pocket. "are you an american?" she asked crying.
"yes. please put the papers on the table by the bed."
it was dim and cool in the room. as i lay on the bed i could see the big mirror on the other side of the room but could not see what it reflected. the porter stood by the bed. he had a nice face and was very kind.
"you can go," i said to him. "you can go too," i said to the nurse. "what is your name?"
"mrs. walker."
"you can go, mrs. walker. i think i will go to sleep."
i was alone in the room. it was cool and did not smell like a hospital. the mattress was firm and comfortable and i lay without moving, hardly breathing, happy in feeling the pain lessen. after a while i wanted a drink of water and found the bell on a cord by the bed and rang it but nobody came. i went to sleep.
when i woke i looked around. there was sunlight coming in through the shutters. i saw the big armoire, the bare walls, and two chairs. my legs in the dirty bandages, stuck straight out in the bed. i was careful not to move them. i was thirsty and i reached for the bell and pushed the button. i heard the door open and looked and it was a nurse. she looked young and pretty.
"good-morning," i said.
"good-morning," she said and came over to the bed. "we haven't been able to get the doctor. he's gone to lake como. no one knew there was a patient coming. what's wrong with you anyway?"
"i'm wounded. in the legs and feet and my head is hurt."
"what's your name?"
"henry. frederic henry."
"i'll wash you up. but we can't do anything to the dressings until the doctor comes."
"is miss barkley here?"
"no. there's no one by that name here."
"who was the woman who cried when i came in?"
the nurse laughed. "that's mrs. walker. she was on night duty and she'd been asleep. she wasn't expecting any one."
while we were talking she was undressing me, and when i was undressed, except for the bandages, she washed me, very gently and smoothly. the washing felt very good. there was a bandage on my head but she washed all around the edge.
"where were you wounded?"
"on the isonze north of plava."
"where is that?"
"north of gorizia."
i could see that none of the places meant anything to her.
"do you have a lot of pain?"
"no. not much now."
she put a thermometer in my mouth.
"the italians put it under the arm," i said.
"don't talk."
when she took the thermometer out she read it and then shook it.
"what's the temperature?"
"you're not supposed to know that."
"tell me what it is."
"it's almost normal."
"i never have any fever. my legs are full of old iron too."
"what do you mean?"
"they're full of trench-mortar fragments, old screws and bedsprings and things."
she shook her head and smiled.
"if you had any foreign bodies in your legs they would set up an inflammation and you'd have fever."
"all right," i said. "we'll see what comes out."
she went out of the room and came back with the old nurse of the early morning. together they made the bed with me in it. that was new to me and an admirable proceeding.
"who is in charge here?"
"miss van campen."
"how many nurses are there?"
"just us two."
"won't there be more?"
"some more are coming."
"when will they get here?"
"i don't know. you ask a great many questions for a sick boy."
"i'm not sick," i said. "i'm wounded."
they had finished making the bed and i lay with a clean smooth sheet under me and another sheet over me. mrs. walker went out and came back with a pajama jacket. they put that on me and i felt very clean and dressed.
"you're awfully nice to me," i said. the nurse called miss gage giggled. "could i have a drink of water?" i asked.
"certainly. then you can have breakfast."
"i don't want breakfast. can i have the shutters opened please?"
the light had been dim in the room and when the shutters were opened it was bright sunlight and i looked out on a balcony and beyond were the tile roofs of houses and chimneys. i looked out over the tiled roofs and saw white clouds and the sky very blue.
"don't you know when the other nurses are coming?"
"why? don't we take good care of you?"
"you're very nice."
"would you like to use the bedpan?"
"i might try."
they helped me and held me up but it was not any use. afterward i lay and looked out the open doors onto the balcony.
"when does the doctor come?"
"when he gets back. we've tried to telephone to lake como for him."
"aren't there any other doctors?"
"he's the doctor for the hospital."
miss gage brought a pitcher of water and a glass. i drank three glasses and then they left me and i looked out the window a while and went back to sleep. i ate some lunch and in the afternoon miss van campen, the superintendent, came up to see me. she did not like me and i did not like her. she was small and neatly suspicious and too good for her position. she asked many questions and seemed to think it was somewhat disgraceful that i was with the italians.
"can i have wine with the meals?" i asked her.
"only if the doctor prescribes it."
"i can't have it until he comes?"
"absolutely not."
"you plan on having him come eventually?"
"we've telephoned him at lake como."
she went out and miss gage came back.
"why were you rude to miss van campen?" she asked after she had done something for me very skilfully.
"i didn't mean to be. but she was snooty."
"she said you were domineering and rude."
"i wasn't. but what's the idea of a hospital without a doctor?"
"he's coming. they've telephoned for him to lake como."
"what does he do there? swim?"
"no. he has a clinic there."
"why don't they get another doctor?"
"hush. hush. be a good boy and he'll come."
i sent for the porter and when he came i told him in italian to get me a bottle of cinzano at the wine shop, a fiasco of chianti and the evening papers. he went away and brought them wrapped in newspaper, unwrapped them and, when i asked him to, drew the corks and put the wine and vermouth under the bed. they left me alone and i lay in bed and read the papers awhile, the news from the front, and the list of dead officers with their decorations and then reached down and brought up the bottle of cinzano and held it straight up on my stomach, the cool glass against my stomach, and took little drinks making rings on my stomach from holding the bottle there between drinks, and watched it get dark outside over the roofs of the town. the swallows circled around and i watched them and the night-hawks flying above the roofs and drank the cinzano. miss gage brought up a glass with some eggnog in it. i lowered the vermouth bottle to the other side of the bed when she came in.
"miss van campen had some sherry put in this," she said. "you shouldn't be rude to her. she's not young and this hospital is a big responsibility for her. mrs. walker's too old and she's no use to her."
"she's a splendid woman," i said. "thank her very much."
"i'm going to bring your supper right away."
"that's all right," i said. "i'm not hungry."
when she brought the tray and put it on the bed table i thanked her and ate a little of the supper. afterward it was dark outside and i could see the beams of the search-lights moving in the sky. i watched for a while and then went to sleep. i slept heavily except once i woke sweating and scared and then went back to sleep trying to stay outside of my dream. i woke for good long before it was light and heard roosters crowing and stayed on awake until it began to be light. i was tired and once it was really light i went back to sleep again.
