Her “Soldat”
The French people run out with bread and wine and fruit, and press them on the soldiers as they march through the villages. To-day we are camped by a field of lucerne, which is fortunate, as no hay is available. The tinned meat is very good, and we get French bread at times, which is excellent. Yesterday, passing through a village early, I went into a small buvette, and got coffee and some chocolate. The good woman refused all payment, saying she had a son who was “soldat,” and I could not get her to take any money at all: Anonymous.