It had made no difference to his consuming hatred of
the Hun. When all his companions were pessimistic about final victory
he had remained an optimist, because of his faith that the Huns must be
destroyed or God would be betrayed. When some of his colleagues who
had lived in Germany before the war praised the German as a soldier and
exonerated the German people from part at least of the guilt of their
war lords, he tried to conceal his contempt for this folly (due to the
mistaken generosity of the English character) and repeated his own creed
of abhorrence for their race and character. “The only good German is
a dead German,” he said, a thousand times, to one’s arguments pleading
extenuating circumstances for German peasants, German women, German
children.... But now in this village of Malmédy on our first morning
across the frontier, within three minutes of our coming, English
troopers were chatting with Germans as though nothing had happened to
create ill-feeling on either side. Brand was giving chocolate to German
children, and German girls were patting the necks of English horses.
“Yes,” he said, after my attempted explanation. “We’re too close to the
frontier. These people are different. Wait till we get on a bit. I’m
convinced we shall have trouble, and at the slightest sign of it we
shall sweep the streets with machine-gun fire. I’ve got my own revolver
handy, and I mean to use it without mercy if there’s any treachery.”
III
Harding had no need to use his revolver on the way to the Rhine or
in Cologne, where he stayed for some months after Armistice. We went on
with the cavalry into many villages and small towns, by slow stages,
the infantry following behind in strength, with guns and transport. The
girls outside Malmédy were not the only ones who waved handkerchiefs at
us. Now and then, it is true, there were scowling looks from men who
had obviously been German officers until a few weeks ago. Sometimes in
village inns the German inn-keeper would be sullen and silent, leaving
his wife or his maidservant to wait upon us. But even that was rare.
More often there was frank curiosity in the eyes of the people who
stared at us, and often unconcealed admiration at the smart appearance
of our troops. Often German inn-keepers welcomed our officers with bows
and smiles and prepared meat meals for us (in the country districts),
while explaining that meat was scarce and hardly tasted by ordinary
folk. Their wives and their maidservants praised God that the war was
over.
“It lasted too long!” they said. “Oh, the misery of it! It was madness
to slaughter each other like that!”
Brand and I went into a little shop to buy a toothbrush.
The woman behind the counter talked about the war.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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