man of the Black Watch.
“Well, I know one thing,” replied Phillip. “Their trouser buttons are duplicated, in case of one coming off. They thought even of that detail! For the long march through Belgium!”
“Not like us, bunged out by the War Office to the Low Country in shoes and spats!” observed Church, sardonically.
“And the wrong rifles, don’t forget!”
“Oh well, it’s all in the game.”
“Hear, hear,” said Phillip, wanting to please Church.
Church and Glass and Phillip moved on to watch some Germans digging with great energy with pick and shovel, the spades ringing on the frozen field. A tall rather stout officer with a brown fur collar to his long greatcoat stood by, bare-headed . When the hard lumps had been shifted, the grave was soon two feet deep. Then a dead German, stiff as a statue that had been lying out in No Man’s Land for weeks, was put on a hurdle, brought to the shallow grave, and put in, still a statue, and covered by a red-white-black German flag.
While the officer read from a prayer-book, and the Saxons stood to attention with round grey hats clutched in left hands, the three London Highlanders stood to attention with the others. It was during the shovelling back of the lumps that Phillip thought of his friend Baldwin, shot during the advance from l’Enfer Wood to the crest of Messines. Was he being buried, at that moment, by Germans with their hats off? Would it be possible to find out, somehow?
When the grave was filled up, the Germans put on it a cross made of ration-box wood, marked in indelible pencil
HIER RÜHT IN GOTT EIN UNBEKANNTE DEUTSCHER HELD
“Here rests in God an unknown German hero,” said Church.
It was just like the English crosses in the cemetery in the clearing within the wood, thought Phillip. The three moved on. Two Germans came up to them, smiling, offering cigars. “Please accept, sir.”
Not to be out-done, Phillip pulled a tin of cigarettes out of his pocket.
“Thank you, sir. Please have these cigarettes.”
Other Germans seemed pleased even with the tins of bully beef given them. One explained that the meerschaum pipe in his hand was the Christmas gift from the Kronprinz.
“Ja! Prächtig Kerl!” said Phillip, trying out his new German. The German replied eagerly in his own language. Phillip remembered the saying of his old nurse Minnie, Mittagsessen ist fertig ! and pointing to the bully beef tin one carried, repeated the words, adding “Nein, nein!” shaking his head, making a wry face, clutching his middle. “Pas bon, bully beef.”
“Bully beef’s a cad,” said Church.
“Please? You speak German, mein Herr?” to Phillip.
“Nein, nein, mein hairy one,” retorted Phillip, for the German had a deep black beard. Then, lest the German feel he was being made a joke of, Phillip said, “I’m afraid I know only a few words of your language. Regardez, Englischer Princess Mary, her Gift Box to us,” as he showed the brass box, opening it to reveal Princess Mary’s photograph. “Deutscher, Kronprinz Wilhelm! Englischer, Princess Mary! Cousins! Yes! ”for Church had laughed. “The Kaiser is a grandson of Queen Victoria, and she was very fond of him, and he of her. I think I like these Germans!”
“Prinzessin! Schön!” said the German, puffing his meerschaum pipe.
“What is ‘schön’, Church?”
“Beautiful?”
“She is beautiful, Princess Mary, I think.” To himself he said, She is rather like Helena Rolls, as he touched the envelope in his breast pocket.
Church moved away; Phillip wandered on, seeking other interesting sights. In the course of turning here and there, he overheard some Highlanders talking about the London Rifles. Immediately he thought of cousin Willie. The battalion, he heard, was holding the line just south of Messines in a large wood the other side of Wulverghem. An idea came to him: why not walk down and try and find Willie? And look for Baldwin’s grave on the way? Why not? Was it not
“Well, I know one thing,” replied Phillip. “Their trouser buttons are duplicated, in case of one coming off. They thought even of that detail! For the long march through Belgium!”
“Not like us, bunged out by the War Office to the Low Country in shoes and spats!” observed Church, sardonically.
“And the wrong rifles, don’t forget!”
“Oh well, it’s all in the game.”
“Hear, hear,” said Phillip, wanting to please Church.
Church and Glass and Phillip moved on to watch some Germans digging with great energy with pick and shovel, the spades ringing on the frozen field. A tall rather stout officer with a brown fur collar to his long greatcoat stood by, bare-headed . When the hard lumps had been shifted, the grave was soon two feet deep. Then a dead German, stiff as a statue that had been lying out in No Man’s Land for weeks, was put on a hurdle, brought to the shallow grave, and put in, still a statue, and covered by a red-white-black German flag.
While the officer read from a prayer-book, and the Saxons stood to attention with round grey hats clutched in left hands, the three London Highlanders stood to attention with the others. It was during the shovelling back of the lumps that Phillip thought of his friend Baldwin, shot during the advance from l’Enfer Wood to the crest of Messines. Was he being buried, at that moment, by Germans with their hats off? Would it be possible to find out, somehow?
When the grave was filled up, the Germans put on it a cross made of ration-box wood, marked in indelible pencil
HIER RÜHT IN GOTT EIN UNBEKANNTE DEUTSCHER HELD
“Here rests in God an unknown German hero,” said Church.
It was just like the English crosses in the cemetery in the clearing within the wood, thought Phillip. The three moved on. Two Germans came up to them, smiling, offering cigars. “Please accept, sir.”
Not to be out-done, Phillip pulled a tin of cigarettes out of his pocket.
“Thank you, sir. Please have these cigarettes.”
Other Germans seemed pleased even with the tins of bully beef given them. One explained that the meerschaum pipe in his hand was the Christmas gift from the Kronprinz.
“Ja! Prächtig Kerl!” said Phillip, trying out his new German. The German replied eagerly in his own language. Phillip remembered the saying of his old nurse Minnie, Mittagsessen ist fertig ! and pointing to the bully beef tin one carried, repeated the words, adding “Nein, nein!” shaking his head, making a wry face, clutching his middle. “Pas bon, bully beef.”
“Bully beef’s a cad,” said Church.
“Please? You speak German, mein Herr?” to Phillip.
“Nein, nein, mein hairy one,” retorted Phillip, for the German had a deep black beard. Then, lest the German feel he was being made a joke of, Phillip said, “I’m afraid I know only a few words of your language. Regardez, Englischer Princess Mary, her Gift Box to us,” as he showed the brass box, opening it to reveal Princess Mary’s photograph. “Deutscher, Kronprinz Wilhelm! Englischer, Princess Mary! Cousins! Yes! ”for Church had laughed. “The Kaiser is a grandson of Queen Victoria, and she was very fond of him, and he of her. I think I like these Germans!”
“Prinzessin! Schön!” said the German, puffing his meerschaum pipe.
“What is ‘schön’, Church?”
“Beautiful?”
“She is beautiful, Princess Mary, I think.” To himself he said, She is rather like Helena Rolls, as he touched the envelope in his breast pocket.
Church moved away; Phillip wandered on, seeking other interesting sights. In the course of turning here and there, he overheard some Highlanders talking about the London Rifles. Immediately he thought of cousin Willie. The battalion, he heard, was holding the line just south of Messines in a large wood the other side of Wulverghem. An idea came to him: why not walk down and try and find Willie? And look for Baldwin’s grave on the way? Why not? Was it not
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