Whenever we were taking prisoners back, we always, unless we were
in too much of a hurry, took them to the nearest canteen run by the
Y.M.C.A. or by one of the artillery companies, and here we would
buy English or American fags. And believe me, they liked them. Any
one who has smoked the tobacco issued to the German army could
almost understand a soldier surrendering just to get away from it.

Usually, too, we bought bread and sweets, if we could stand the
price. The Heinies would bolt the food down as though they were
half starved. And it was perfectly clear from the way they went
after the luxuries that they got little more than the hard
necessities of army fare.

At the battle of High Wood the prisoners we took ran largely to
very young fellows and to men of fifty or over. Some of the
youngsters said they were only seventeen and they looked not over
fifteen. Many of them had never shaved.

I think the sight of those war-worn boys, haggard and hard,
already touched with cruelty and blood lust, brought home to me
closer than ever before what a hellish thing war is, and how keenly
Germany must be suffering, along with the rest of us.




CHAPTER XII

I BECOME A BOMBER