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SUNDAY THE FIRST OF NOVEMBER 343
fallen comrades." When we left Hamelincourt, we therefore
made straight for the cemetery. Crowds of officers and men
were filtering along the paths between a forest of crosses and
tombstones. There was here a common grave, in which
Frenchmen and Germans have been resting side by side since
1871, also some fresh graves dating from the present war.
A surgeon lay buried here, whose fox-terrier, for three days and
nights, could not be induced to leave his master’s grave,
A group of nursing sisters come bearing large wreaths
wherewith to adorn the graves of the dead soldiers. The band
strikes up a slow and solemn funeral march ; a preacher
delivers an address in remembrance of the dead, and a choir
of Bavarian Landsturm men ascend a little mound and pay
homage to their fallen comrades in beautiful song. They are
good-natured fellows, these powerful and strong Bavarians,
but in war they are awkward customers to tackle. Then they
no longer think of " Eine ganz frische Blume"^ and can even
dispense with their beloved Hofbräu beer. Their younger
comrades in the trenches are notorious for their eagerness to
fight and for their undaunted courage. They never give way.
If the word is given to charge with the bayonet, nothing can
hold them back. A Bavarian " Hurrah " is something terrify-
ing. But when the enemy throws up his hands and yields
himself up as prisoner, these warriors become their old gentle
selves. If the situation permits it may happen, however, that
they rummage in their opponents’ pockets and knapsacks for
cigarettes. When, in the former war, the Germans reproached
the French with having pressed half-savage and heathen
races into their ranks, they are said to have replied :
" Eh
hien, vous avez vos Bavarois !
"
On the extreme fringe of the audience stood sixty Land-
sturm men, who had been ordered to the cemetery to open
fire in case a hostile airman should show himself. Aviators
are mostly out between five and six, and the air was calm and
clear this evening. Just imagine what havoc might be wrought
if a bomb or two were dropped among these closely packed
crowds ! While the priest is speaking, the warning whir is
heard overhead. But not a muscle moves on the faces of his
audience ; the preacher’s voice never falters nor does he lose
the thread of his discourse for an instant. One little sister
alone raises her blue eyes to the sky, but seems quite uncon-
^ Title of one of their songs.
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