emotion. He narrated his personal history in the war. He had been in the first and second battles of Ypres, then badly wounded and put down at the base as a clerk for nearly two years. After that, when German manpower was running short, he had been pushed into the ranks again and had fought in Flanders, Cambrai, and Valenciennes. Now he had demobilised himself.
"I am very glad the war is over, monsieur. It was a great stupidity, from the beginning. Now Germany is ruined."
He spoke in a simple, matter-of-fact way, as though describing natural disturbances of life, regrettable, but inevitable.
I asked him whether the people farther from the frontier would be hostile to the English troops, and he seemed surprised at my question.
"Hostile! Why, sir?. . . The war is over and we can now be friends again. Besides, the respectable people and the middle-classes"—he used the French word bourgeoisie—"will be glad of your coming. It is a protection against the evil elements who are destroying property and behaving in a criminal way—the sailors of the Fleet, and the low ruffians."
The war is over and we can be friends again! That sentence in the young man's speech astonished me by its directness and simplicity. Was that the mental attitude of the German people? Did they think that England would forget and shake hands? Did they not realise the passion of hatred that had been aroused in England by the invasion of Belgium, the early atrocities, the submarine war, the sinking of the Lusitania, the execution of Nurse Cavell, the air-raids over London—all the range and sweep of German frightfulness?
Then I looked at our troopers. Some of them were chatting with the Germans in a friendly way. One of
