I told him we were going to plug the German trenches and the buildings
around there, that we had orders to blow them up as they were filled
with machine guns. He grinned from ear to ear, saying, "Good! Good!
Shoot them all! Which ones you shoot first? I want to see them fall."
I pointed out the ones my battery was going to demolish and his big
white teeth were exposed in another grin, as he nodded approvingly, and
walked off.
That same afternoon my gun leveled the buildings assigned to me for
demolishment and knowing beyond all shadow of a doubt that they were
filled with men and machine guns, I watched through the glasses to see
the gray-clad inmates popping out of the doors and windows. Judge of my
astonishment! Not a solitary soul left the building my gun had
destroyed. I watched each one of them in turn and in turn was awarded
nothing for my pains. From others, however, hundreds of men rushed and
as they scurried away our guns shrapneled them, dropping them by the
score.
A sort of a subconscious connection between my conversation with the
Algerian and the effect of my gun fire found lodging in the back of my
head, but it was not until later that it became a direct consciousness.
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