Fatherland--Better
to kill them like the swine they were.

Our blood froze to hear the man and to see the poison of that rat soul
of his exuding from his every pore, in every gesture and in each fresh
inflection of his rasping voice. And all his men shouted their fierce
approval and shook in our faces their bloody butcher's bayonets. It
was a bitter draught. If they had killed us then it would have had to
have been done in most cold blood, exceeding even the murder of Taylor
in planned brutality. He at least had not known that it was coming and
had not felt this insane fear which we now experienced and which made
us wonder how they would do it. Would each have to watch the other's
end? And would it be done by bullet or by bayonet? We greatly feared
it would be the latter. We pictured ourselves held down as hogs
are--our throats slit----!

The dark officer thought otherwise and minced no words in the saying.
Our hearts leapt out to him warmly, in gratitude.

He sharply ordered them to desist, at which they slunk sullenly away,
as hungry dogs do from a bone.

I felt an uncomfortable physical sensation and ran my hand uneasily
beneath my shirt. I was covered with a fine sweat.

CHAPTER VII

PULLING THE LEG OF A GERMAN GENERAL

Polygon Wood and Picadilly Again--German Headquarters--Surprising
Kitchener--"Your Infantry's No Good"--The Germans Give Us News of
the Regiment.

We were then escorted under heavy guard out over the fields in the
rear, past the nearby farmhouse, which was simply filled with snipers.
The latter, however, did not shoot at us, presumably because they
might have hit some of our numerous guards. We seemed to be working
right through the heart of the German Army. Everywhere the troops were
massed. Along the road they lay in solid formation on both sides. If
we had had artillery to play on them now they would have suffered
tremendous losses. The whole countryside presented a living target.
All the way they shouted "Schwein" and taunted us in both languages.
Every shell-hole, farmhouse, hut, dugout and old trench on the
three-mile stretch between the Front and Polygon Wood contributed its
quota.

The regiment had evacuated Polygon Wood on the night of the third.
Across the old trail our fatigue parties had tramped new ones in the
mud, up past Regent Street, Leicester Square and Picadilly. We passed
them all.

We were marched over to the little settlement of pine-bough huts which