in a meadow, tossing a tennis ball about, laughing and joking.
Others were eating luncheon. It was just 1 o'clock. They had the same
fare as their captors, the only difference in service being that the
captors got theirs first.

Our officer talked to the Captain of the guard, who explained that his
lot of about 400 had just been taken at Neuville Saint Vaast. Our
officers then talked to the prisoners. I was surprised to note the
extraordinary decency of their attitude and conversation. There was no
boasting, no arrogance, no animosity. On the contrary, I heard one
Captain telling the prisoners considerable they apparently did not
know about the progress of the fighting in that neighborhood. He
smiled as he talked, and concluded by telling the men they would be
well fed and well treated.

I also noted the attitude of the prisoners. As a French officer
approached the German soldier, true to his years of iron discipline,
leaped to his feet and stood rigid as a poker through the talk, but
never the raising of a hand to cap, never the salute to the Frenchman.

I strolled down the road and found another with whom I was able to
talk. He was a non-commissioned officer, young and very intelligent. I
told him I was an American, which aroused his interest. He wanted to
talk about America. He had friends there. I asked him:

"How long do you think Germany can hold out against so many enemies?"

He stood very straight, looked me directly in the eye, and said:
"Germany knows she is beaten, but she will fight to the last
cartridge."

He spoke French. His final words, "La derniere cartouche," rang out.
His eyes flashed. Several others crowded about.

Just then a company of Spahis cavalry came clattering down the road--a
more ferocious-looking lot I have never seen--and disappeared in a
cloud of dust. All of us turned to look, the prisoner remarking: "I'll
say one thing, though: we never thought we would have to fight men
like those."

Coming from the trenches at night, we waited in a little hamlet about
a kilometer in the rear for our automobiles. About 1,000 soldiers were
there, waiting to return to the trenches in the morning. They
completely surrounded us, singling me out for observation on account
of my khaki clothes. I heard one ask our Captain about me. The
Captain replied that I was a correspondent of THE NEW YORK TIMES.
Many had never seen an American before. I was conscious that I was an
object of intense curiosity.