On another occasion when we walked to the tennis court the German Lieutenant’s wife was waiting for him at the _Gasthof_, and the two partook of refreshment together at a little table under the trees. When we marched back we found that she was still accompanying him on the side-walk, which seemed to give to the whole parade a decidedly homely suggestion.
On Saturday afternoons we played football with the orderlies, when, in view of my advancing years and other discretions, I occasionally acted in the more retired position of full back. Pleasanter for me, however, was it to lie on my back in the forest, watching the young fir trees swaying to the wind like the masts of ships, while ever and anon they struck with a noise suggestive of the crossing of swords.
One of our orderlies, by the way, had been captured at Mons, and was a typical soldier of the period. He and his mate were lying in a ditch, up to the middle in mud and water, and under heavy fire. “I says to him, ‘Put a little artificial flower on me grave--I’m fond o’ roses myself.’” His teeth were knocked out by the butt of a soldier’s rifle, and he was flung into a church. When he first saw a loaf he “charged it,” toothless gums and all. He is still in the “eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth,” attitude towards his enemies. And he has lost practically a whole set!
Another orderly, who had recently been on commando, showed me his leg, which was badly scalded. “That’s the sort of thing we do, sir,” he said, “to prevent being sent down the mines!”
[Illustration: KIRCHESTRASSE, BEESKOW. One of many such sketches made freely in the streets after the Armistice.]
From scraps of conversation with the sentries and the interpreter, we knew by the middle of October that the Germans would sign an armistice whatever the terms might be. One afternoon the “Top” and “Bottom” of the house were engaged in a hockey match. As I stood on the road watching the contested field, passed me a cart driven by a French soldier prisoner of war. A German boy, burdened with a great sack of _Kartoffeln_ for Beeskow, gave hail, and the soldier pulled up and waited patiently until both boy and burden were on board. As he moved off he saluted me, and cried cheerily, “Bientôt, la paix!”