unded in the
stomach at the time he was taken prisoner.

From a private letter: "My nephew was in the Canadians and was wounded
in the spine in a recent advance.... He was brought back to London,
where I saw him, and he died in hospital shortly after. He told me
himself all about it. He lay for several hours after being wounded,
unable of course to move. When the ambulance came up, the stretcher
bearers were Germans--prisoners of war. They saw he was cold and took
off their own coats and wrapped him up. All the while they were under
fire from the British guns.[51] One of them was wounded in the arm by
shrapnel as they were carrying him, but he kept his hold. He called to
his mate to let down the stretcher, but till it was on the ground, he
never flinched. My nephew knew what this meant, and as he thought of
what had been done for him by an 'enemy' his face lighted up, as he
said, 'That man is a hero!' And he added, 'We don't feel hard towards
them at the front.'"

Again, a wounded soldier who had been prisoner in Germany says: "I could
not have been better treated, and I know ninety companions who say the
same. But this is not the sort of story the newspapers want." People
very generally do not like to hear good of an enemy. In war-time this
very human objection may become an important cause of continued strife.
(cf., p. 108.)

In the following, Philip Gibbs tells of a German doctor who tended
friend and foe alike. "A number of Germans ... --about 250 of
them--stayed in the dug-outs, without food and water, while our shells
made a fury above them and smashed up the ground. They had a German
doctor there, a giant of a man with a great heart, who had put his
first-aid dressing station in the second line trench, and attended to
the wounds of the men until our bombardment intensified so that no man
could live there.

"He took the wounded down to a dug-out--those who had not been carried
back--and stayed there expecting death. But then, as he told me to-day,
at about eleven o'clock this morning the shells ceased to scream and
roar above-ground, and after a sudden silence he heard the noise of
British troops. He went up to the entrance of his dug-out and said to
some English soldiers who came up with fixed bayonets, 'My friends, I
surrender.' Afterwards he helped to tend our own wounded, and did very
good work for us under the fire of his own guns, which had now turned
upon this position." (_Daily Chronicle_, July 5, 191