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Updated: June 8, 2025
"We have something to hand Fritzie," young Pickles was heard to remark when he had learned of the quality of the Somme fighting, "and I hope he'll like it, for he's got to take it." The battalion ranks, both officers and men, had once more been filled up. They had a brief fortnight's training in the new open fighting under barrage and then set off cheerfully for the "Big Game."
To me that poor little Fritzie is the very reason America should have been in it from the first. Can't you see that this Prussian outfit is not only murdering Frenchmen and Russians and Britishers, but is murdering her own men as well? If America had been in the war it would have been over now, and every day she holds back means so many more of the best men in the world dead.
Hi, Fritzie, we're a-goin' to add four shillins' to the bloomin' indemnity, to p'y fer the tickets!" One by one these prisoners were passed into an inner room where each remained for about five minutes. When the sailor came out, he held up a brass tag which had been fastened with a piece of wire to his buttonhole. "I got me bloomin' iron cross," he said, "and I'm a-goin' to mike me 'ome in Slops!
All I want now is to get back and present a few to Fritzie before the show is over." Thereafter the Little Red Doctor exhibited, but read to us only in small parts, quite bulky communications from overseas. Some of them, it became known, he was forwarding to our little Mary, out in the Far West. With her answer came the solution.
It ayen't 'ealthy." It is the regular warning to new men. For some reason the first emotion of the rookie is an overpowering curiosity. He wants to take a peep into No Man's Land. It feels safe enough when things are quiet. But there's always a Fritzie over yonder with a telescope-sighted rifle, and it's about ten to one he'll get you if you stick the old "napper" up in daylight.
There was a quick succession of sharp explosions. "Bombs!" said the M. O. The explosions were followed by the rat-tat-tat tat-tat tat-tat-tat of the machine guns. Instantly they were both on their feet and out in the trench. "I guess Fritzie is trying to put something over on us, being our first night," said the M. O. "I'll get my boys out."
He was soon to learn that the most conspicuous and attractive thing about a British sailor or soldier is his disposition to take things as he finds them and not to be greatly concerned about anything. "Hi, Fritzie," he added, addressing one of the soldiers, "are we for Wittenberg or carn't yer s'y?" The guard paid no attention. "It's no difference," said one of the men in oilskins.
I found the moving plank and followed it along the trench as it approached nearer and nearer to the opening; and I was guilty of the most unprofessional conduct, for I kept thinking, as hard as I could, "Duck, Fritzie! Whatever you do, duck when you come to that hole!" And surely enough, he did.
"Let old Fritzie see a light, ''Ello! 'e says, 'blokes in billets! an' over comes a 'arf-dozen shells knockin' you all to blazes." As we came within the range of rifle fire, we again changed our formation, and marched in single file along the edge of the road. The sharp crack! crack!= of small arms now sounded with vicious and ominous distinctness.
He pats the Hun on the back, hands him chocolate and cigarettes, exchanges souvenirs and shares with him his last luxury. If any one interferes with his Fritzie he's willing to fight. When they come to the cage where the prisoner has to be handed over, the farewells of these companions whose acquaintance has been made at the bayonet-point are often as absurd as they are affecting.
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