, had
more money than they knew what to do with--as Europeans
universally think, only, personally, I find that I was overlooked in the
distribution--and if they would lend the Allies some of their spare
billions, Germany was surely beaten.

A busy man, the blacksmith, and brawny, if he had no spreading
chestnut tree; busy not only shoeing farmhorses, but repairing
American reapers and binders, whose owners profited exceedingly
and saved the day. But not all farmers felt that they could afford the
charge.

These kept at their small patches with sickles. Gradually the carpets
of gold waving in the breeze became bundles lying on the stubble,
and great, conical harvest stacks rose, while children gathered the
stray stems left on the ground by the reapers till they had immense
bouquets of wheat-heads under their arms, enough to make two or
three loaves of the pain de menage that the baker sold. So the
peasants did it; they won; and this was some compensation for the
loss of Warsaw.

One morning we heard troops marching past, which was not unusual.
But these were French troops in the British zone, en route from
somewhere in France to somewhere else in France. There was not a
person left in any house in that village. Everybody was out, with
affection glowing in their eyes. For these were their own--their soldiers
of France!

When you see a certain big limousine flying a small British flag pass
you know that it belongs to the Commander-in-Chief; and though it
may be occupied only by one of his aides, often you will have a
glimpse of a man with a square chin and a drooping white
moustache, who is the sole one among the hundreds of thousands at
the British front who wears the wreath-circled crossed batons of a
field-marshal.

It is erroneous to think that Sir John French or any other commander,
though that is the case in time of action, spends all his time in the
private house occupied as headquarters, designated by two wisps of
flags, studying a map and sending and receiving messages, when
the trench-line remains stationary. He goes here and there on
inspections. It is the only way that a modern leader may let his
officers and men know that he is a being of flesh and blood and not a
name signed to reports and orders. A machine-gun company I knew
had a surprise when resting in a field waiting for orders. They
suddenly recognized in a figure coming through an opening in a
hedge the supreme head of the British army