great value to him later
when he came to command the Fourth French Army in the same district.
But meanwhile came the summons to the Dardanelles, where, as we all
remember, he served with the utmost loyalty and good will under
General Sir Ian Hamilton. He replaced General d'Amade on the 10th of
May, led a brilliant and successful attack on the 4th of June, and
was, alas! terribly wounded before the end of the month. He was
entering a dressing-station close to his headquarters to which some
wounded French soldiers had just been brought when a shell exploded
beside him. His aide-de-camp was knocked over, and when he picked
himself up, stunned and bewildered, he saw his General lying a few
yards away, with both legs and an arm broken. Gouraud, during these
few weeks, had already made his mark, and universal sympathy from
French and English followed him home. His right arm was amputated on
the way to Toulon; the left leg, though broken below the knee, was not
seriously injured, but the fracture of the right involved injury to
the hip, and led to permanent lameness.

Who would have imagined that a man so badly hurt could yet have
afterwards become one of the most brilliant and successful generals in
the French Army? The story of his recovery must rank with the most
amazing instances of the power of the human will, and there are
various touches connected with it in current talk which show the
temper of the man, and the love which has been always felt for him.
One of his old masters of the College Stanislas who went to meet him
at the station on his arrival at Paris, and had been till then unaware
of the extent of the General's wounds, could not conceal his emotion
at seeing him. "_Eh, c'est le sort des batailles_," said Gouraud
gaily, to his pale and stumbling friend. "One would have said he was
two men in one," said another old comrade--"one was betrayed to me by
his works; the other spoke to me in his words." The legends of him in
hospital are many. He was determined to walk again--and quickly. "One
has to teach these legs," he said impatiently, "to walk naturally, not
like machines." Hence the steeple-chases over all kinds of
obstacles--stools, cushions, chairs--that his nurses must needs
arrange for him in the hospital passages; and later on his determined
climbing of any hill that presented itself--at first leaning on his
mother (General Gouraud has never married), then independently.

He was wounded at the end of June