" "How does it happen," said he,
in support of his suspicion, "that he always has a little change when
the rest of us are broke?"
"Oh, nonsense," said I, "a good soldier wouldn't do such a thing, and we
all know he is a good soldier; there is no getting away from that."
CHAPTER II
THE FIRST NIGHT
I arrived in France early in February, 1915, and for three weeks we were
put into the hands of an Imperial battery, the Warwicks. They had taken
part in the battle of Mons, and the tales of the veterans of this
world's memorable retreat, told in their own modest way, gave me my
first clear impression as to what the boys of the Imperial Army really
had endured for civilization in that campaign.
At first I thought they were trying to bluff us Colonials, but the first
night I was in the lines I realized in the largest degree of human
intensity the fearful truth of their experiences.
The tuition given us by these warriors could not be excelled. They took
us to Fleurbaix, where their batteries were located on the outskirts of
the town, in cellars in the back part of a building destroyed by German
fire.
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