ain't 'e?"

"Sure!"

The man with the injured arm put on his boots and threw his tunic over
his shoulders and walked off, smiling happily.

A German, looking weak and pale, came in. He was in great agony and had
received permission to enter the theatre with the British wounded, so
that his pain might be relieved as soon as possible.

"'Ullo, Fritzie," said someone in a cheerful voice. "Got a Blighty?"

The German did not understand and looked utterly miserable. He sat down
timidly with the others. The room was dark except for the glow given out
by the stove that lit up the hands and faces of those around it.
Suddenly a man shouted from the background:

"Them bastard Fritzes--I'd poison the 'ole lot." And that started the
argument.

"I reckon one man's as good as another."

"I reckon a Tommy's worth a dozen Fritzes. The bleeders ought ter be
wiped orf the face o' the bleed'n' earth. I see 'em do a thing or two, I
tell yer--me an' my mate was in the line down Plugstreet way when they
crucified a Canadian. I see the tree what they did it on wi' me own
eyes--dirty lot o' swine!"

"Bloody lies! Yer read it in the paper!"

"Wha' if I did?"

"Yer said yer saw it yerself!"

"Well, I read it in the papers and then I see the tree what they did it
on arterwards. The nails was still there. An' what _d'you_ know about
it? Yer in the artillery, yer don't see no fightin'!"

"Don't see no fightin'! Gorblimy, I reckon the infantry wouldn't be much
bleedin' cop wi'out the artillery."

"I'll tell yer what the artillery do--blow up their own mates what's in
the front line, there now!"

"If we'd 'ad artillery in August, 1914, the war'd 'a' bin over in three
weeks!"

"Don't yer believe it! It's the infantry what 'as all the danger an'
gits all the rotten jobs. The artillery's cushey compared wi' the
infantry."

"The artillery 'as a bloody sight 'eavier losses!"

"Go on--tell us another! It's no good arguin' wi' yer, yer won't see any
side 'cept yer own."

But a third man, bringing the argument back to its original subject,
said:

"I reckon it's all bloody lies what's in the papers. The Belgies is a
damn sight worse'n Jerry. [The Germans.] Yer know that there gun what
used to shell Poperinge--well, they never knew where the shells came
from till they found it was a Belgian batt'ry 'id in a tunnel. They
caught the gunners when they was telephonin' to Jerry. They stood the
'ole bleed'n' lot up aginst a wall an' shot