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Page 33
The shout of "Next man" sounded across from the theatre, and the
would-be destroyer of the social order got up and walked across.
"Where were you wounded?" asked one of the soldiers of his neighbour who
was drawing his breath in sharply between his lips, evidently being in
great pain.
"Near Eeps, [Ypres] by the Canal. A shell busted in front o' me an' a bit
copped me in the shoulder. Fritz was sending 'em over by the 'undreds,
whizz-bangs an' 'eavy stuff all mixed up--gorblimy, 'e don't 'alf give
yer what for!"
There was a temporary lull in the conversation and then a small, wiry,
spiteful looking Cockney spoke. He had reddish hair and big round
spectacles of the army pattern.
"I didn' 'alf do it on a Fritz afore I was wounded! 'E give 'isself up
an' I takes 'im along--I makes 'im walk in front o' me--yer can't take
no risks wi' them bastards. 'E turns rahnd an' says ter me in
English--'e must 'a' bin a clurk or a scholard--'e says, sarcastic like,
'I s'pose yer think yer goin' ter win the war!' I gets me rag out an'
tells 'im ter mind 'is own bleed'n' business. I tells 'im if I catch 'im
lookin' rahnd agin I'll kill 'im! We walks on a bit an' suddenly I
throws a Mills at 'im--gorblimy, it wasn't 'alf a fine shot, it busted
right on 'is shoulder. It didn' 'alf make a mess of 'im--I bet 'is own
mother wouldn't 'a' rekkernized 'im as 'e lay there wi' 'is clock all
smashed up!"
"I think it's a damned shame to kill a man after he's surrendered," said
a tall Corporal.
"I wasn't goin' ter stand no bleed'n' sarcasm! An' Fritz does the same
to our blokes! It's 'e what started it! We learnt it orf of 'im!"
"Yes, that's what they all say. It's always the other man who's done it
first. There's been many a fellow who's quite decent at heart who's
murdered a helpless prisoner thinking to avenge some abominable outrage
that was never committed, but only dished up by some skunk of a
pen-pusher who's never seen any fighting in his life. I don't know much
about Fritz, he may be worse than us or he may be better, but I've seen
our fellows do some bloody awful things. Anyhow, I know the German
soldier's doing his bit just as we are. He thinks he's in the right and
we think we're in the right, and he's just as much entitled to his
opinion as we are to ours. And I tell you straight, if I had the choice
between killing a German soldier and killing Lord Northcliffe, I'd shake
hands with the German and ask him to help me kill Lord Northcliffe and a
few others like him. And I'm not the only one who's that way of
thinking, I can tell you. We call ourselves sportsmen, but have we ever
recognized that we got a brave enemy? Say what you like about Fritz, he
may be a brute, but he's got some pluck--he's up against the world, he
is. He'll be beaten in the end, that's a cert, but he's putting up a
bloody hard fight. I didn't think much of him before I came out, but
it's hats off to him now! But d'you think the civvies or the papers
admit it? No bloody fear! The other day I saw a picture of the grenades
we use--I think it was in the _Graphic_ or one of these illustrated
rags. It was headed, 'Ferreting Fritz out of his Funk Holes.' I know the
man who wrote that hasn't been in the trenches himself! He's never seen
a lot of Germans lying dead round their machine-gun after fighting to
the last, as I have! He hasn't even seen a shell burst, not he! I bet he
slipped into _his_ funk hole, though, when there was an air-raid on!
Dirty, filthy swine! When I was home on leave I got so wild at the way
the civvies talked that I gave them a piece of my mind and told them a
thing or two. And one of them called me a pro-German! He, of course, was
a patriot. He was making money out of the war and wanted a fight to a
finish. Well, I got my rag out properly and I caught him by the throat
and shook him till he was blue in the face. It was in the street too,
and a lot of people standing about. They didn't say anything more after
that, though! I felt I'd done a good deed. I was really glad to feel I'd
clutched his windpipe with all my strength. I expect he still wears the
marks of my finger-nails, although it happened months ago...."
"'Ere, 'ere! That's the stuff to give 'em! I reckon Fritz is a bloody
good sport. We ought ter shake 'ands an' make peace now. Peace at any
price, that's what I say.... I tell yer a thing what 'appened when I was
in the line. We 'ad a little dog wi' us an' one night she must 'a'
strayed inter Fritz's trenches. The next mornin' she came back wi' a
card tied round 'er neck an' on the card it 'ad: 'To our comrades in
misfortune--What about Peace.' I reckon that was a jolly decent thing
ter say. Jerry wants ter get 'ome to 'is missis an' kiddies just as much
as what we do!"
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