A current of modest charm coursed smoothly through the fiery temperament of Brigadier-General Hugh Dyer, in whom absence of allusions to mutually loved spots in Irish characteristic, but in whom simplicity of a manly nature that wone the affectionate regard of all men with whom he served or with whom he dealt.
Dyer took huge delight in telling how he fooled the British medical profession. When he was a Major with his Battalion at the Front he was terribly cut up and was put aside in a cot in the ward in a hospital in France to pass with such ease of mind and comfort of body as could be given under the circumstances of war to a man of his years and his character.
A titled medical man of the highest eminence in his profession in England came at that time in a consultant capacity on a visit to the hospital. When the great consultant passed Dyer's cot he took a hurried glance at the Canadian Major, near to death, and sympathetically said to the escourting medical staff to see that Dyer was eased out with every attention, for, said the great authority on life and death, "He'll not live to get up out of that cot."
When the dozing Dyer heard this remark, he raised himself somehow on his elbow, and said with startling strength of voice coming from a man so stricken, "I don't know who you are, but I'm a Canadian. You're a liar, and be damned to you. I'll get up out of this cot here, and will see you die before me!"
Dyer marvellously recovered to return to duty at the Front, was given command of his Battalion, and then was promoted to command the 7th Brigade.
Details of the sequel he told me escape my memory, but the scene he loved to describe remains as vivid as only he could imprint it.
The Brigade Commanders had been summoned to a Divisional conference, and while Dyer waited amongst them at one of the Officers' clubs in a back area, he noticed an unusual number of medical officers of all ranks hanging around. Wondering at this, he was told they were gathered to confer with a great titled consultant, and just then the medical big-wig himself stepped out of a car that drove up.
The great medical man happened to notice Dyer, and attracted by something vaguely familiar in Dyer's features, stopped, and said politely, "I seem to know you; haven't we met before?"
"You're right, we have," said Dyer. The medical baronet - later a peer - noticed Dyer's insignia. "Ah," he said, "you're a Canadian. Yes, a Canadian... That recalls something. Let me think. You were a Major. Now, I see you are a General. Yes, I remember. You should be dead." Then the great medical man turned to the other medical officers surrounding him by this time, and said, "Gentlemen, let me introduce this Canadian Brigadier-General. He is the only man who has ever called me a liar and lived to prove it."
Hugh Dyer accepted the laurels of victory as gracefully as only he could do, and in the happy fellowship and congratulations, set up the drinks for the titled physician to the King. The prophecy made on his cot came truer than he had meant it, for the great English physician died a few years ago, as though to courteously let Hugh Dyer make good his infuriated threat.
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