Loving Our Enemy

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The story is told of a wounded Scottish Highlander, stroking a German spiked helmet, as he lay upon a cot in a London hospital. A nurse said to him, “I suppose you killed your man?” “No, indeed,” was the reply. “It was like this: he lay on the field badly wounded and bleeding, and I was in the same condition. I crawled to him and bound up his wounds; he did the same for me. I knew no German, and he knew no English; so I thanked him by just smiling. He thanked me by smiling back. By way of a token I handed him my cap, while he handed me his helmet. Then, lying side by side, we suffered together in silence till we were picked up by the ambulance squad. No, I didn’t kill my man.”

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