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Updated: May 8, 2025
I was obliged to take a glass of brandy with her; then she said: "Look just opposite there; if you turn the first corner to the right, you will find the Capougner-Strasse. Good-evening, conscript." She laughed. Big Furst and Zébédé were also billeted in the Capougner-Strasse, and we set out, glad enough to be able to limp together through the strange city.
Our Phalsbourg conscripts, who saw me writing, made me add a few words for each of their families. I wrote also to Mayence, to the good couple of the Capougner-Strasse, who had been so kind to me, telling them how I was forced to march without being able to thank them, and asking their forgiveness for so doing. That day, in the afternoon, we received our uniforms.
But we, with our billets for lodging what were we to do with them in the middle of such a city, and, above all, the Italians, who did not know a word either of German or French? My first idea was to see the cantinière under her umbrella. She was an old Alsatian, round and chubby, and, when I asked for the Capougner-Strasse, she replied: "What will you pay for?"
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