entirely inadequate for such work, finally put him on the sick
list, and he was sent back to Munster in western Germany.

He was then sent into the fields with two companions--the two who
were in the group about the table--and with them he seized a
favourable opportunity to escape. His companions had tried on
previous occasions, each separately, but had been caught, sent back
and put into dark cells and given only one meal a day for a long
and weakening period. That did not daunt them. The Germans
thought that men who had gone through that kind of punishment would
not try to escape again. Yet as soon as their strength was
restored through their food parcels from home they were off, but in
an entirely different direction.

I asked one of them, a little Welshman, where be got the waterproof
rubber bag on the floor at his feet, in which were all his earthly
belongings. "That used to be the old German farmer's tablecloth,"
he said.

To-day in Europe there are millions of civilians dressed in
military uniform, which fails to hide the fact that their main work
of life is not that of the soldier. But the three British soldiers
sitting under the smoky brass lamp were of a different sort.
Twelve years of service had so indelibly stamped them as soldiers
of the King that the make-shift clothing given them in Holland,
could not conceal their calling. Their faces were an unnatural
white from the terrible experiences which they had undergone, but,
like the rest of the Old Army, they were always soldiers, every
inch of them.