One felt rather sorry for the Germans, because
all along they've thought they could scare the
French. That's one of their excuses for being
horrible.
The incident was a prophylactic for our own apprehension. We were grateful enough to drive up whole to a battery commander's headquarters on the edge of the village. The general stood in the middle of the road, surrounded by anxious officers. Williams drew me aside. He laughed nervously.
"The general," he said, "has been asking if you fellows know you've been under heavy shellfire. A piece of one of those high explosive shells, he said —"
"I think I know it," I responded meekly. But that was past. The immediate future was the vital concern.
A ruddy faced colonel walked from the house, as thoroughly disapproving at the sight of the general as the staff men were. He opened with that question which had become altogether too familiar to-day.
"What are the Huns strafing over there?"
The general no more than any one else could answer.
"They seem to be after a lot of things," some one said.
