"I have nothing to say."

As a general thing one of the staff had something to say. The
interpreter, the convoy officer or the station master would get a lot
of fun out of reciting to the German passages from von Bissing's
famous and ferocious proclamation ordering that no quarter be given
and that the troops should not encumber themselves with prisoners.
Then he would ask:

"What would you say if we were to put such a principle into practice?"

The German often became very pale. He would content himself with a
shrug of the shoulders--the shrug of the brute who knows that he is
safe among civilized men.

The men I questioned were often doctors who ranked as majors or held
some commission in the German medical corps. They were less stiff and
automaton-like than the officers and sergeants of the line service.
Their attitude varied in accordance with the number of stars they had
on their epaulette. If their rank were inferior to mine, they were
exaggeratedly obsequious, holding their hands along the crease in the
seam of their trousers with their fingers close together--at strict
attention. If their rank were superior to mine, they were defiant and
insolent. Nevertheless, they showed themselves more communicative than
their comrades of the line service. Most of them spoke French--well
enough, though not perfectly. All of them had been in Paris, and one
and all repeated this phrase:

"We know your beautiful country well. We have been in your beautiful
capital often...."