“The collapse of Russia will undoubtedly help the Germans to continue the conflict,” said Dave. “But I believe that sooner or later they’ll have to give in. They must know that they cannot stand against all of us combined.”
“I’ll tell you where we have got them,” said another of the convalescents, a marine who had seen some fierce fighting ever since the Americans had entered the contest. “The Heinies can fight well enough while they are in a bunch, but as soon as you separate them they become next to helpless. Their individual soldiers don’t seem to have any initiative. Now with our men it’s just the opposite. They’ll fight well enough together, but let them get separated, and each man is on his mettle to do the very best he knows how and make a record for himself.”
“You are right there,” replied Dave. “And that puts me in mind of a story I heard only yesterday. A Western cowboy, who knew all about rounding up cattle but very little about army life, was in one of the advances and all at once became separated from the rest of his command. He wandered around until he came to a trench, and then found a dugout containing some German soldiers.
“Now it seems this cowboy had been on kitchen duty for his company some days before, and as he didn’t like peeling potatoes and doing stunts like that he was very much out of humor. He pointed his gun at the dugout and yelled to the Germans to come out. One of them held up his hands and managed to ask in broken English what was wanted.
“‘You come out of that or I’ll fire this hand-grenade at you!’ yelled the cowboy, and flourished something in his hand.
“The Germans became very much frightened, and one after another came out of the dugout and lined up, hands in the air. There were five of them, and the cowboy motioned to them to march with their hands up in the direction of the American line. Once or twice the Germans balked, but every time they did this the cowboy made a swing with his hand as if to throw a grenade at them.
“Finally they got near the American lines and some other soldiers came out to see what was doing.
“‘I’ve got five of the Heinies here,’ announced the cowboy calmly. ‘And it only took this baked potato to bring ’em in,’ and then he showed the supposed hand-grenade, which was only a common potato which he had kept as a memento of his hours in the camp kitchen.”
“Some potato!” cried one of the listeners.
“That was sure a raw deal,” said another laughing.