scarlet face.

"Did you fire?" he panted, breathless.

The lieutenant looked at him in astonishment, placed his hands against
the seams of his trousers and replied with perfect formality:

"I did, sir."

Marschner's voice failed him again for a moment. His teeth chattered.
His whole body trembled as he stammered:

"Aren't you ashamed of yourself? A soldier doesn't fire at helpless,
wounded men. Remember that!"

Weixler went white.

"I beg to inform you, Captain, that the one who was near our trench was
hiding the others from us. I couldn't spare him." Then, with a sudden
explosion of anger, he added defiantly: "Besides, I thought we had quite
enough hungry mouths at home as it is."

The captain jumped at him like a snapping dog and stamped his foot and
roared:

"I'm not interested in what you think. I forbid you to shoot at the
wounded! As long as I am commanding officer here every wounded man shall
be held sacred, whether he tries to get to us or to return to the enemy.
Do you understand me?"