When we came into Malmédy, the cavalry patrol halted in the market square and dismounted. It was about midday, and the German people were coming out of church. Numbers of them surrounded us, staring at the horses, whose sleek look seemed to amaze them, and at the men who lit up cigarettes and loosened the straps of their steel hats. Some girls patted the necks of the horses, and said;
“Wünderschön!”
A young man in the crowd, in black civilian clothes, with a bowler hat, spoke in perfect English to the sergeant-major.
“Your horses are looking fine! Ours are skin and bones. When will the infantry be here?”
“Haven’t an idea,” said the sergeant-major gruffly.
Another young man addressed himself to me in French, which he spoke as though it were his native tongue.
“Is this the first time you have been in Germany, monsieur?”
I told him I had visited Germany before the war.
“You will find us changed,” he said. “We have suffered very much, and the spirit of the people is broken. You see, they have been hungry so long.”
I looked round at the crowd, and saw some bonny-faced girls among them, and children who looked well-fed. It was only the younger men who had a pinched look.