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He gallantly placed the pots, one on the right, the other on the left of Gervaise's glass; then bending over and kissing her, he said: "I had forgotten you, my lamb. But in spite of that, we love each other all the same, especially on such a day as this." "Monsieur Coupeau's very nice this evening," murmured Clemence in Boche's ear. "He's just got what he required, sufficient to make him amiable."
"I'll have one for you on your way back." There was no stopping him; he had gone. "Matty's a devil!" said the big man. "He'll get it, all right. He's equal to reaching over the Boches' parapet and picking one off a Boche's head!" As we proceeded on our way, officers came out of the little houses to meet Captain P and the stranger civilian.
He was now seated by Madame Boche's kitchen table, listening to her story of how the dressmaker on the third floor, staircase A, had used a filthy word in refusing to pay her rent. He had had to work precious hard once upon a time. But work was the high road to everything.
Between the Railway Cutting at "Hill 60" and the Comines Canal further south, the lines at this time were very close together, and at one point, called Bomb Corner, less than 50 yards separated our parapet from the Boche's.
The mystery of the Boche's unlooked-for strength was explained by a Divisional wire that reached us about 8 A.M. It stated that a prisoner captured by the th Brigade said that at 7 A.M. on the 18th, following urgent orders resulting from the British offensive at 5.20, a whole Boche division came by bus from Maretz, fourteen miles back.
And yet it was this portion of "the fifty days," this exhausting, remorseless, unyielding struggling that really led to the Boche's final downfall. It forced him to abandon the Hindenburg Line the beginning of the very end. I was going to write that it was astonishing how uncomplainingly, how placidly each one of us went on with his ordinary routine duties during this time.
He must have died when the observer took over the control of the plane, but the observer, oddly enough, never thought of him as dead, and quite expected to be able to bring him around if he once got him safely landed." "Well, that was enough to give anyone a shock," said Will. "But he would have had a worse shock if he had come down on the Boche's side.
I don't know which of us would have recovered first, but one of our boys settled the combat by blowing the big Boche's head off. Our three lads had cleared up all the others and we had time to think of our own condition.
Even Goujet, who was ordinarily very sober, had taken plenty of wine. Boche's eyes were narrowing, those of Lorilleux were paling, and Poisson was developing expressions of stern severity on his soldierly face. All the men were as drunk as lords and the ladies had reached a certain point also, feeling so warm that they had to loosen their clothes. Only Clemence carried this a bit too far.
If it had been, there'd be many a husky lad living today, who has gone West, this past few years, on account of the fogs. Fog is the boche's pet. It gives Fritzy a lovely chance to creep up or, us. It " "It is the helper of US, too," suggested old Vivier. "More than one time, it has kept me safe when I was on patrol. And did it not help to save us at Rache, when "
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