A wounded Dublin Fusilier lay for a time among German wounded and found that one of them was in danger of bleeding to death. The bandage the Fusilier had to use for his own wound was the only one available. Without the slightest hesitation he handed it over to the German, whose life was saved by the application in time of that antiseptic bandage. Unfortunately that act of self-sacrifice cost the Fusilier his life, for he developed blood poisoning through the wound not being bandaged at once, and was buried a few days later. When the German who had profited by that lad's sacrifice heard of it he cried like a baby, and for a while they had to put him under restraint for fear he should take his own life. A private of the Coldstream Guards said that they heard a German who was lying on the ground between the lines calling out, "Comrade, comrade; Englander, Englander!" When night came two of our men went and brought him in. He had five wounds. An officer of the Yorkshire Light Infantry wrote: "There is none of that insensate hatred that one hears about, out here. We are out to kill, and kill we do, at any and every opportunity. But, when all is done and the battle is over, the splendid universal 'soldier spirit' comes over all the men. To give you some idea of what I mean, the other night four German snipers were shot on our wire. The next night our men went out and brought one in who was near and get-at-able and buried him. They did it with just the same reverence and sadness as they do to our own dear fellows. I went to look at the grave the next morning, and one of the most uncouth-looking men in my company had placed a cross at the head of the grave, and had written on it: 'Here lies a German, We don't know his name, He died bravely fighting For his Fatherland.' And under that, 'got mitt uns' (_sic_), that being the highest effort of all the men at German. Not bad for a bloodthirsty Briton, eh? Really that shows the spirit." The Germans have made several discoveries about the British soldier, and know now that he has a kind heart. An officer in the Prussian Guards put his arms round the neck of a British officer and said, "Mercy, officer!" Brave men are kind to dumb animals, and our soldiers were this. A veterinary officer wrote: 'Our horses have stood the tough marches with remarkable freedom from lameness and sore backs, which is testimony to the very great consideration and kindness which the troopers and drivers show to their dumb friends. I have particularly noticed, since riding with patrols, how anxious the men have been after a heavy day in the saddle to feed their horses and give them a rough rub down before taking a bite or a drink for themselves. They always dismount and feed them on all occasions with hay and wheat found on the farms and in stacks in the fields, also with clover.'