Free A Fox Under My Cloak by Henry Williamson Page A

the first battalion, and not with the second at home?” No-one knew Maddison. “He may be down in front of the convent.”
    Phillip was now the centre of about a hundred men, in khaki and grey. One of the Germans listening to him was a tall officer, who looked steadily at him when he had finished speaking. Phillip felt he was thinking about the battery he had passed in the sunken lane; and this feeling was confirmed when the German officer approached him and said in a quiet voice, “May I have a word with you? Shall we walk this way, and see theprie Dieu at the Cross-Roads—we ‘huns’ have not yet succeeded in shooting it down, you will be able to observe, to the satisfaction of some of your newspapers,” as he indicated the several new crosses of ration-box wood set up over various new graves in No Man’s Land that day.
    The tall German officer went on, “May I count on the word of a London Highlander, that you will regard your recent visit behind our lines as, shall we say, never for a moment approximating to that of an agent?”
    “An agent, sir?”
    “A spy.”
    “Oh no, I wasn’t for a moment spying, sir.”
    Phillip saw that they were closely followed by a German soldier wearing a green shoulder cord. He looked from the officer’s orderly to the officer himself, at the big pink face, the expressionless grey eyes, the clean-shaven lips which had hardly moved during the speaking of the words.
    “I am glad to hear it,” the voice went on, “otherwise you would be my prisoner, do you understand. We are still at war.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Then you give me your word?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Good. Now may I ask you some questions of purely personal interest to myself. How did your government manage to supply you with so many Maxim guns at the battle for Yper, or as you call it—Ypres?”
    “Maxim guns? We had none.”
    “No Maxim guns? But everywhere our troops met with withering fire, both frontally, and across—no machine-guns?”
    “It was the ‘fifteen rounds rapid’ that did it, sir.”
    “And your overwhelming reinforcements.”
    “But we hadn’t any, sir. We had no reserves, other than local, of course,” he said. “We’ve got a great many now!”
    “I see. Would it amuse you to know that our High Command broke off the battle because your woods were supposedly full of hidden reserves, while we had no more regiments—we were putting in students, with one rifle among three—— War is full of surprises.” He paused. “Well—auf wiedersehen, my English, or should I say Scottish friend? This war will not last for ever. Perhaps we may meet again when it is over. Untilthen, goodbye, I am happy to rely on your word.” The German clicked his heels, and bowed.
    Phillip came to attention, and bowed. What an extraordinary thing for the Germans at Ypres to be as exhausted as the British had been—and to think that the machine-guns were all on the British side——
    Having asked the way to the convent, Phillip walked on. He was approaching a group of cottages about a cross-roads when he came upon a burial party. They had evidently just finished; for as he drew near, a German officer gave a sharp command, at which a German soldier came forward smartly, carrying an armful of ration-box wooden crosses. The officer pointed to one of the new graves. The soldier snatched off his round grey cap, with its red band, and knelt to put one of the crosses upon the loose earth.
    Phillip was reading, Für Vaterland und Freiheit in purple indelible pencil, when he felt his arm touched.
    “Hullo, Phil!”
    “Willie!”
    They stared at one another delightedly. Phillip felt warmth spreading over his body. They shook hands, while he thought how very young his cousin looked, his brown eyes large and eager like a child’s, with his badgeless cap, his greatcoat with the skirt roughly cut off, his face pale and wan. He was only seventeen, too young to have come out. The friend of his boyhood had recently been