My chum sprang up with a greeting in German, and was answered in French by the inquiry: “Who are you?”
“Un Americain,” I answered quickly.
He dropped his hay fork, and held out his arms to embrace me, then called to his wife; and as she spoke German quite well, we soon had an understanding with them.
They said that though some of the French people of that country had become Germanized, they still loved “la belle France” and prayed for deliverance from the hated, overbearing Germans. They had conscripted his son and had taken his horse, his crop of potatoes and other food, for their soldiers.
From them we learned that there was a heavy force of Germans a few miles away, but that they were constantly falling back before the French and Americans. They said, further, that many of the Boches they had met were discouraged and feared that they could not continue to fight much longer.
The old man gave us food to continue our journey, saying: “We are good friends,” and then added ruefully, “C’est la guerre.”
CHAPTER XXV
AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER
A few days after this meeting we saw, while hiding in some woods, German artillery moving over near-by roads, and by this inferred that we were near the German lines, and that they were falling back.
I was not sick but weak and tired. I lay down to rest and hide, while my chum left me to get some water, and forage for turnips or other food, still unharvested.