While we were laying out the corpse, we heard the look-out sentry halting some one. I jumped onto the fire-step and plainly saw a figure straightening up on our side of the barbed wire, with his hands over his head, coming right forward. He dropped into our trench, of course with the sentry holding his bayonet pointed at him. It was plain to be seen that the young German was giving himself up, no doubt being sick of the fighting. He made a motion as if to put his hand inside his coat, but the man with the bayonet was taking no chances and made a lunge at him, which greatly frightened the lad. So he made us understand as well as he might, still holding his hands aloft, that he had something in his pocket he wanted to show us. The sergeant stepped over and took out the contents of the pocket. He did not have any firearms at all. Among the few things in his pocket was a worn plain envelope, and at this he pointed. Inside was a sheet of paper and on it was written in good English:
“English soldiers, please be kind to my boy.”
The sergeant asked me to take the boy back to the officers’ quarters with him, as I had yet to report my sad experience in “Crossing the Bar.” The case of the boy prisoner proved an extraordinary one. An officer of the engineers attached to the Black Watch, who could speak German, questioned him. The boy had not the least idea what the fighting was about. He told the officer that his mother had given him the letter as she felt sure that the English would be kind to him. She had told him that he should give himself up at the first opportunity. He was her only son.
We learned from him of preparations for an attack by the Germans at dawn, which corroborated the information our staff already had. He was treated very kindly. He seemed very much taken aback at the kind treatment accorded him, and asked if it was the custom of the English to treat prisoners kindly before torturing and putting them to death. Upon hearing this, the officer he was speaking to laughed uproariously for fully a minute, and the others wanted to know the joke. He told them and some joined in the laugh. The officer patted the boy on the back; gave him his letter, telling him at the same time to treasure it; and said that he would no doubt meet his mother again.
The boy fell upon his knees and tried to kiss the officer’s hand, sobbing like a child. But the officer nearly turned a backward somersault, getting away from the hand kissing, and swore as if he would eat the lad up.
Sure enough, the next morning the attack came off, but we were prepared for it. Just at “stand to” before dawn, our artillery opened fire and kept pounding at them until about eight o’clock; the enemy replying very vigorously. They attempted to get over their parapet, but gave it up until about noon. They tried it again. Our artillery opened up on them, and some forces along our line charged the Germans.
The Black Watch had supports up and were to make a charge at two o’clock that day, but the sleet came on with an awful wind, and this prevented it. Instead, the regiment in support came up and took our place in the trenches. We moved along some distance to the right flank. The sleet and rain continued, also the wind. We were cold, miserable, and grousing in good style because we found we had to take another part of the trench, instead of going, as we thought, to billets. However, we got an extra issue of rum.
This place was pitted with big shell holes. It looked extremely weird. One sigarree (fire box with charcoal) was issued to a company, and we would take our turn in getting warmed up from it. This lasted only a few days, for very soon the Germans sighted the smoke, which drew their shell fire, and so we were glad to abandon the sigarrees and suffer the cold.