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"She had been left in Saigon by the skipper of a German ship with whom she had been going up and down the China coast as far as Vladivostok for near upon two years. The German said to her: 'This is all over, mein Taubchen. I am going home now to get married to the girl I got engaged to before coming out here. And Anne said: 'All right, I'm ready to go. We part friends, don't we?
The brutes were half-drunk, and were singing love and war songs, such as 'O Gretchen mein Taubchen, mein Herzenstrompet, Mein Kanon, mein Heerpauk und meine Musket, 'Prinz Eugen der edle Ritter. and the like; their wild whoops and jodels making doleful discord with the groans of us captives within the waggons.
You should hear them the chaste, chic, nun-like Taube and the thick-chested old Brummer, singing that he is her dear old Grumbler and she his soft, swift Dove: "Suesser, dicker Brummer... Du mein Taubchen, zart und flink..." There is a sort of poetry about this a new sort of poetry about a new sort of war.