I answered him with a smile, "J'y suis j'y reste."
The German Red Cross soldier came up to my stretcher and took my hand, "Adieu, Kamarad."
The young German officer leant over and offered me a piece of chocolate. "Why have you English come against us?" he said; "it is no use. We shall be in Paris in three days. We have no quarrel with you English."
His eyes sparkled with the joy of victory, yet as he rode off I knew that some day his turn would come to lie even as I was.
At the entrance, or near the entrance to the village of Caudry, we were stopped by another officer on horseback. This time the colloquy was in English. "Officer? What regiment? Good! What Brigade?" "I don't know." "How many divisions were you?" "I don't know." "Ah, you won't tell me, but I know there were four divisions. We have captured men from many different regiments. Pass on."
On the way through the village the stretcher party was held up by the passing of a grey-coated infantry regiment. I have in my mind just a glimpse of the houses in the village, and one of them wrecked by a shell, but I was too exhausted to keep my eyes open when my stretcher was put down outside the school, which had been turned into a field-ambulance during yesterday's battle.
The French have many qualities, but order in emergency is not one of them.
A crowd of civilians blocked the entrance to the school, and swarmed chattering around my stretcher: "Il est mort! Mais non il n'est pas mort, il respire! Mais je dis qu'il est mort!"
I settled the discussion by opening one weakly indignant eye.
On being carried into a room which is on the right as you go in at the lobby, I was put on a table. Part of the crowd from the street followed on behind. Some one at once took my boots off, and forgot to give them back again. The doctor took off my bandage and applied something which felt like snow to the top of my head, then whispered in my ear, "Do not speak, do not think; keep quiet if you wish to live."