THE CULTURED GERMAN.

Rangitikei Advocate and Manawatu Argus, Volume XLII, Issue 11611, 10 August 1918, Page 7

THE CULTURED GERMAN.

By Lieut. A. B. Morton

The Germans had captured two or three French villages alter some fierce fighting, and a few of the inhabitants had had not time to take their escape. Round one village in particular, a long struggle had rao-ed, and finally, after exacting a heavy toll, the British withdrew. At the far end of this village the Germans found a big hut still standing. They hoped there would he provisions there, hut they were disappointed. The place was stripped bare, save for a bed or two behind a partition It was a cold night with a high wind blowing, and a few Germans had made up a fire :in 1 the stove. A party of them had been sent there to rest, so as to be ready to relieve soother party in the work of completing defences. The British guns were silent, ominously silent, some thought. The door of the hut was closed, and against it, the eandelight making little shadows over her face, stood a tall, slender girl. Her hair was dishevelled, her blouse torn and her black dress stained with dust and wine. Round her in a circle stood a ring of men in fieldgrey, one slightly in advance.of the others. % He was speaking in a thick voice.' “You will come’’. “Where?” “Into tlie partition.” “What for? 1 have done nothing.” “You will stay there for the night. It is warm. You will there. You understand?” He leered at her, his eyes bleary and shifting for the wine he had drunk had gone to his head. There

were several bottles ou the floor, some of them smashed, and more on the wooden table with mugs round

them, half full. The girl’s eyes never wavered, and she stood up straight as he finished speaking. The passsionate pride of France was in her hearing, though her lips were vary pale. Tiie corporal who had addressed her advanced a step, carrying a piece of rope in his hand. Instinctively she stiflemd, and her hands went behind her hack. “You will come'quietly?” he said. “No.” “Then you shall-come in the way I choose,” and he called her a foul name, and the men laughed. He moved nearer to her and two of the men followed, gripping their bayonets, for a German is. always afraid of violence Be has a cowardly nature, and constantly fears that young girls or children may try to resist his intentions, and even hurt him unless he is armed.

“One more chance,” said the Corporal. “Will you he sensible? You will only he doing what many have dons before you. There is wine and warmth ; and you French are great lovers. In the morning you may go. back to your friends, if you behave yourself well.” Then, very sharply, “You come?” “No.”

‘‘Very well. It is with you as it was with foolish Belgium. If she had not resisted all would have been well.”

He went nearer to her, but she never flinched ; at the last minute ho grow suspicious and covered her with his revolver, the rope dangling from Ins left wrist, “but with vour hands! ”he shouted.

She brought her hands slowly from behind her backhand he lowered Ills revolver, bending over to tie her hands; his revolver he gave to one of the men behind him. Even as ho turned to hand it to them, she struck him with all her force across the back of the head. He lurched forward and fell amoung the broken The other men started forward, but she swung the rone-end round her, and they could not coma near. The key was still in the door, and she turned it quickly; but before she could open it, she was eeizsd from behind and lifted away across the room. The infuriated corporal, with a bleeding hana, went to leek the door again, curs ing, while two men held the girl. “Take her in there,” said the corporal, pointing to the’ partition. Gasping and s niggling she was dragged across the room. The corporal reached the dooi hut at the same instant it was opeuded from outside. Somebody came in quickly, bumping into the corporal, and a drawling voice said in English: “Fearfully sorry, old thing. So damned dark out here. Hullo! More Fritzes ! Hands of you, please. Ah—would you ! There was a report, and before the corporal could take aim he fell, shot in the face.

““Here, Vickers,” called the officer.

A small muddy man came to the door.

“Take these men away, Vickers, and put them with the rest. ’ ’ Vickers ran his eye over the Germans, as a salesman counts hales of silk. “. . . Three, four, five. Very good sir. This way, please. Keep your hands up. Hot of your pals along here’ “But . . . ?” began one of the Germans in guttural English, ‘“how iid yon ” “That’s our business.,” snapped Vickers He bad seen the girl cowering against the wall, and found it bard to restrain bia feelings. “There was no barrage.” ‘‘Don’t need one for the likes of you. 1 ” The girl told her story to the officer, and presently she was among her friends. Outside, the officer met his subaltern, “In time, thank God,” he asid. “Just in time. ”