w, but thought him a company officer of the rank of
captain perhaps. He asked for other particulars which we gave to the
best of our knowledge.

"I'll attend to that," he said. However, we heard no more of it. We
refrained from complaining about the actual ill-treatment and
indignities we had been subjected to, the murder of our unoffending
comrades, or the lack of attention to our wounds, as we rightly judged
that we should only have earned the enmity of our guards.

"May I have your cap badge?" the Prince asked, decently enough.

I lied brazenly: "Sorry, sir; I've lost mine."

The fact was I had shoved it down under my puttees while lying back of
the trench the previous afternoon.

Scarfe said: "You can have mine, sir."

He took it. "Thanks so much." He glanced at the aide again; rather
sharply this time, I thought. The latter blushed and hastily extracted
a wallet, from which he handed Scarfe a two-mark piece, equal to one
and ten pence, or forty-four cents. He gave us his name before
leaving, and my recollection is that it was something like Eitelbert.
Evidently he was a brother of the Duchess of Connaught, whom we knew
to have been a German princess whose brothers and other male relatives
all enjoyed high commands among our foes.

CHAPTER IX

HOW THE GERMAN RED CROSS TENDED THE CANADIAN WOUNDED

"Come Out Canadians!"--The Crucifixion--"Nix! Nix!"--Civilian
Hate--"Englaender Schwein!"

We remained in the fouled church all of that day and night and until
the following morning. No more food appeared. We were marched down to
the railroad under heavy escort, crowded into freight cars and locked
in. The guards were distributed in cars of their own, alternating with
ours. Our wounds remained unattended to.

At every station they thundered: "Come out, Canadians!" They lined us
up in a row while a staff officer put the same questions to us in
nearly every case. They were particularly interested in the quality of
our rations and asked if it was not true that we were starving and if
our pay had not been stopped. The guards invariably explained to the
civilians that these were the Canadians who had cut the throats of the
German wounded.

We did not know how to explain the prevalence of this impression. On
the contrary, we were aware of the story of the crucifixion of three
of the Canadian Division during Ypres. The tale had come smoking hot
to our men in the Polygon Wood trenches during the great bat