"We were up the line one day when a patrol brought in a Hun prisoner. Of course we wanted information, for we were expecting an attack of some sort that very night. So we hauled our man up before the C.O. and started asking him questions. We tried him in German, and got no reply. We tried French with him, and it had no result. Then, seeing he was eyeing a water-bottle eagerly, I suddenly thought he might be thirsty.
"'Ask him if he would like a drink,' I suggested.
"'I should,' came the reply, in quite as good English as I could have spoken myself. Naturally I was surprised, and I asked him where he had learnt his English.
"'In London, sir,' was the rejoinder. 'I worked as a barber close to Holborn for years.'
"We gave him a little drink of whisky, and he told us there would be no attack that night. But we took no chances. A guard, with fixed bayonet, was placed over him, and he was told in English that he would be the first to get his medicine if he had played us false.
"He had not, however. No attack was made, and he was sent back behind the lines to the 'cage' next day...."
Another.
Overheard in the ranks on the march up the Cambrai Road in a snow-storm to take over at Bourlon Wood.
"Italy!" said the Doc. "It looks more like being another b—— Wood!"