In civilized war, a prisoner can be compelled to tell only his name, rank and religion. But this is not a civilized war, and there are ways of making prisoners talk. One of the most effective ways--quite humane--is to tie a prisoner fast, head and foot, and then tickle his bare feet with a feather. More severe measures have frequently been used--the water cure, for instance--but I’m bound to say that nearly all the German prisoners I saw were quite loquacious and willing to talk, and the accuracy of their information, when later confirmed by raids, was surprising. The iron discipline, which turns them into mere children in the presence of their officers seemed to make them subservient and obedient to the officers who commanded us. In this way, the system worked against the Fatherland. I mean, of course, in the cases of privates. Captured German officers, especially Prussians, were a nasty lot. We never tried to get information from them for we knew they would lie, happily and intelligently. At last came the night when we were to go “over the top,” across “No Man’s Land,” and have a frolic with Fritz in his own bailiwick. I am endeavoring to be as accurate and truthful as possible in these stories of my soldiering, and I am therefore compelled to say that there wasn’t a man in the sixty who didn’t show the strain in his pallor and nervousness. Under orders, we discarded our trench helmets and substituted knitted skull caps or mess tin covers. Then we blackened our hands and faces with ashes from a camp fire. After this they loaded us into motor trucks and took us up to “Shrapnel Corner,” from which point we went in on foot. Just before we left, a staff officer came along and gave us a little talk. “This is the first time you men have been tested,” he said. “You’re Canadians. I needn’t say anything more to you. They’re going to be popping them off at a great rate while you’re on your way across. Remember that you’d better not stand up straight because our shells will be going over just six and a half feet from the ground--where it’s level. If you stand up straight you’re likely to be hit in the head, but don’t let that worry you because if you do get hit in the head you won’t know it. So why in hell worry about it?” That was his farewell. He jumped on his horse and rode off.