The next morning Reggy, who had studied in Berlin and spoke excellent German, when making his rounds approached the bed of a tall, fair-haired prisoner, whose steely blue eyes contained no hint of welcome, and who, in spite of his good treatment, was still openly suspicious of us.
After bidding him guten Morgen and dressing his wound—which was in the place we would have liked to see all Germans "get it," viz.: the neck, Reggy enquired:
"What do you think of the war? Do you still think you are going to win?"
The Prussian looked up with a half smile and the suspicion of a sneer curled his lip. "Is there any doubt about it?" he returned.
"There should be considerable doubt in your minds," Reggy answered warmly.
"We shall win," the prisoner said, with imperturbable coolness and assurance; "the war has only commenced, as far as we are concerned."
"But you will be starved out, if you're not beaten otherwise," Reggy continued.
The shortage of food in Germany was one of our early delusions about the war. The Prussian laughed amusedly—not by any means a pleasant laugh.
"If we do not grow a grain," he replied scornfully, "we have sufficient food stored away to last us for three years. For the past ten years every city in Germany has kept a three-year supply stored, and only the oldest crop has been used annually." An illuminating confession!
"But you will run short of men," Reggy persisted.