It was in the early morning of August 25, 1758, that the Prussian army, thirty-two thousand strong, confronted, in battle array, an enemy greatly exceeding it in strength, for the Russians numbered fifty-two thousand men. After all preparations for the battle had been made, and as the Prussians were marching out of camp, the King conversed with officers and the rank-and-file upon various matters as they passed by, with as much composure as if it were a parade. He was somewhat surprised at an old corporal in the grenadier battalion of the Berlin garrison, named Beek, whose very bald head was covered with the grenadier’s cap while his wig was hanging from his knapsack. The King rode up to him and noticed that the old man was still very active.
“My friend,” said he, “it is high time somebody looked after you. Have you had an education?”
“No, Your Majesty, I have learned nothing; I can neither read nor write. I had to be a soldier when I was very young, and I am of no use except to be shot at.”
“How long have you been in the service?”
“Forty-four years already, and yet I am perfectly sound. If the war lasts long enough, however, my time to die will come. I don’t care for that, for I have always lived the soldier’s life. There is only one thing that troubles me. If it were not for that, Your Majesty, I shouldn’t care if I were shot to-day. I would die right willingly.”
The King listened attentively and then asked:
“Well, what troubles you?”
“Your Majesty, I have an only boy who is making some progress. His mother has taught him to read quite well, and I would be glad to have him learn whatever is proper for him, and go to some good school, so that he will know more than I do. That will help him when he goes out into the world, I cannot afford to give him anything out of my allowance.”
“Where is your son to be found?”
The father gave him his son’s residence, and told his name, and then the King rode away. A few minutes after this the battle began.