"Where are they? I'll stick this bayonet through 'em——"
Then someone said:
"There are wounded in the church."
"I pleaded with them," the old priest said.
"My children, they are our enemies, but respect the wounded!"
"The wounded!" roared the other, "the wounded! I'll cut 'em to pieces!"
"They all followed me like a pack of hounds," the priest went on, "and I prayed to God for aid.
"The first one we saw, on entering the church, was a Bavarian stretched out in a pool of blood. Rolling his eyes up at me, he muttered:
"'A drink—I'm thirsty——'