"There came a day when the regiment met the Prussians--when the
Frenchmen went over the top and the Germans came out to meet them.
Jean was with his beloved companions, but, strange to say, he carried
no rifle. One had been offered to him, but he shook his head. Instead,
he carried several canteens of water and his blouse was stuffed with
first-aid bandages. He knew what he wished to do and what he believed
he could do best.

"Soon men began to fall. The stretcher bearers were too few to give
quick attention to all, but Jean was there. With his bandages he bound
as best he could the wounds of his comrades, and quenched their thirst
from his canteens. Many were the suffering poilus who blessed the
little soldier of mercy that day.

"Jean's face was bleeding where a bullet had left a gash across it,
but to this he gave not the slightest heed. Time and time again he ran
back for more water; time and time again did he rush for the stretcher
bearers to get aid for a particularly badly wounded comrade. The child
seemed to be utterly fearless, or perhaps he did not even realize that
the air about him was thick with bullets and exploding shells. If he
knew he did not care.

"With nightfall the troops of both sides backed away to their own
trenches. Jean's work, however, was not yet done. He remained out on
the field where lay men who would never rise again, and many more who
were suffering and dying. All night long he worked with them, until
nearly daybreak, by which time the stretcher bearers had finished
their work.