they groused about the war and about their officers. Our sergeant
knew all right that it was forbidden to talk with the enemy, and
they'd even read it out to us that we were only to talk to them with
our rifles. But the sergeant he says to himself that this is God's
own chance to strengthen the wire, and as long as they were letting
us work against them, we'd just got to take advantage of it,

"Then behold one of the Boches that says, 'There isn't perhaps one
of you that comes from the invaded country and would like news of
his family?'

"Old chap, that was a bit too much for me. Without thinking if I did
right or wrong, I went up to him and I said, 'Yes, there's me.' The
Boche asks me questions. I tell him my wife's at Lens with her
relations, and the little one, to. He asks where she's staying. I
explain to him, and he says he can see it from there. 'Listen,' he
says, 'I'll take her a letter, and not only that, but I'll bring you
an answer.' Then all of a sudden he taps his forehead, the Boche,
and comes close to me--'Listen, my friend, to a lot better still. If
you like to do what I say, you shall see your wife, and your kids as
well, and all the lot, sure as I see you.' He tells me, to do it,
I've only got to go with him at a certain time with a Boche
greatcoat and a shako that he'll have for me. He'd mix me up in a
coal-fatigue in Lens, and we'd go to our house. I could go and have
a look on condition that I laid low and didn't show myself, and he'd
be responsible for the chaps of the fatigue, but there were
non-coms. in the house that he wouldn't answer for--and, old chap, I
agreed!"

"That was serious."