Captain Lucy and Lieutenant Bob

by Aline Havard

"What is it?" snapped the officer in German, roused from his thoughts and staring with an irritable unfriendliness at the American prisoner.

"I should like more room for exercise, and sufficient food and fire." Bob thought he might as well speak his mind at once. He did not see what harm could come of his demands, which were quite within his rights, even if they should be unheeded.

The major seemed little impressed by them. He got up, nodding shortly in acknowledgment, but the only reply he vouchsafed was the inquiry, in English, "You some money perhaps have?"

Bob was surprised but he answered truthfully, "Yes, a little."

"A canteen there is." The major jerked his head in the direction of the kitchen building. "There you more food can sometimes buy. We cannot feed our prisoners as you live in America!" This was said with a flash of spiteful fury not lost upon Bob, who saw in that moment how little, beyond the most grudging sustenance, he or his countrymen could expect at German hands.

The major went out without any further words, accompanied by a shout from the sergeant to the sentries to present arms, and a great display of military stiffness on the part of Bob's guard, who seemed to be lingering about the premises for the privilege of saluting a second time. Bob drew a sigh of relief when the major's sword had clanked itself out of ear-shot along the barracks, devoutly hoping he would not make long visits in the quarters of the humbler prisoners. He felt sure they would agree with him that the less seen of the Herr Major the better.

He dropped down on the stool, now restored to his own use, and sat wondering drearily how on earth he could pass the time in any degree of cheerfulness. He regretted now not having gone outdoors while he had the chance, and decided that he must adopt indoor exercises at once if his health was not to suffer from the unnatural confinement. Getting up an appetite, though, was certainly a thing to be avoided. Bob's thoughts of the future were dim and purposeless, and he did his best just now to keep them so. He greatly hoped he would not realize the depth of his misfortune, and that the half incredulous state of mind that made him live on from moment to moment, as though his imprisonment were something strange and passing, might last a little longer. One ray of comfort he had, and he clung to it when despair seemed very near him. Solitude was the thing he most dreaded, and Captain Bertrand's friendly presence had been like a ray of light out of utter darkness. Bob had always had an affectionate family or cheerful friends around him. He did not know how to live alone and could hardly have risen above the utter depression of it. In thinking of the young Frenchman's brave calmness he found more courage to face things than he had thought he possessed.

The guard had locked his door, and Bob particularly wanted to find out about the canteen the hospitable Commandant had spoken of. He took out his money from the inside pocket lining of his blouse where it was hidden, and counted it carefully. He had just forty francs. The ten he had given to the old peasant would have been welcome now, but he did not regret them.

As the morning wore on, and the door remained locked, Bob's active body demanded movement of some kind. He tried a balancing performance with the stool, vaulted over the low table, went through the manual of arms without a gun, and had a fencing bout with an imaginary sword and opponent. Then, his invention failing him, he dropped down on his stool again and resumed his principal occupation of the past two days—wondering. He wondered what time dinner was, and if it would be more substantial than breakfast. Anyway he had the promise of food at the canteen to look forward to. He wondered if writing materials could be bought there, too, and, if so, whether a letter from here would ever reach the outside world through the Commandant's hands. He remembered that he had not asked Bertrand in what part of Prussia they were. The name of some near-by city might be more familiar to him than the town outside the camp. He could not understand why Bertrand had been kept there when the other officers were transferred, but he was very thankful for his own sake that it had been so.

After a long while the door was unlocked, to the accompanying sounds of the prisoners forming in ranks outside the barrack, and his guard appeared with the same steaming basin that had held the acorn coffee at breakfast. As he put it down on the table and turned to leave, Bob plunged into German. "I go," he began, pointing emphatically across the yard, the word canteen not being at his command, "get bread."