MILITARY ETIQUETTE
"What did you mean by the _what-d'-you call it?_" Tom asked, as they
rowed through the darkness for the Baden shore.
"Arrmis-stice," said Archer, wrestling with the word.
"Oh," said Tom.
"That's the way to handle 'em," Archer said with undisguised
satisfaction.
"I never saw you like that before," said Tom. "I had to laugh when you
said _consarn_."
"That's the Huns all overr," said Archer, his vehemence not yet
altogether abated. "They'll try to do the bossing even afterr they'rre
licked. Treaties! They've got theirr firrst taste of a _Yankee_ treaty,
hey? Didn't even have a sworrd and wanted me to think they werre doin'
us a favorr! President Wilson knows how to handle that bunch, all right,
all right!--Don't row if you'rre tirred."
"It don't hurt my leg to row, only I see now I couldn't swim it."
"Think I didn't know that?" said Archer.
"I got to admit you did fine," said Tom.
"You got to get 'em down on theirr knees beforre you make a treaty with
'em," boasted Archer. "You can see yourself they'rre no good when they
haven't got any commanderr--or any arrms. When Uncle Sam makes a treaty
with that gang, crab-apples, but I hope he gets the boat, too."
"I know what you mean," said Tom soberly. "I have to laugh at the way
you talk when you get mad. It reminds me of the country and Temple
Camp."
"That's one thing I learned from knockin' around in Europe since this
warr starrted," said Archer. "The botches, or whatever you call 'em, are
no darrned good when you get 'em alone. The officers may be all right,
but the soldierrs are thick. If I couldn't 'a' knocked the bluff out o'
that lord-high critturr, I'd 'a' rubbed his pie face in the mud!"
Tom laughed at his homely expletives and Archer broke out laughing too,
at his own expense. But for all that, Tom was destined to recall, and
that very soon, what Archer had said about the Huns. And he was shortly
to use this knowledge in one of the most hazardous experiences of his
life.
They were now, thanks to their treaty, both dry clad in the field-gray
uniforms of the German rank and file; and though they felt somewhat
strange in these habiliments they enjoyed a feeling of security,
especially in view of the populated district they must pass through.
Of the purposes and fate of their late "enemies" they had no inkling and
they did not greatly concern themselves about this pair of fugitives who
had crossed their path. They knew, from the gossip in "Slops" prison,
that Germany was full of deserters who were continually being rounded up
because, as Archer blithely put it, they were "punk scouts and had no
resourrce--or whatever you call it." Tom did not altogether relish the
implication that a deserter might be a good scout or _vice versa_, but
he agreed with Archer that the pair they had encountered would probably
not "get away with it."
"If they had a couple o' generrals to map it out forr 'em, maybe they
would," said Archer.
"I think I'm above you in rank," said Tom, glancing at an arrow sewn on
his sleeve.
"I'm hanged if I know what that means," Archer answered. "Therre's a
couple morre of 'em on your collarr. Maybe you'rre a generral, hey? I'm
just a plain, everyday botch."
"Boche," said Tom.
"Same thing."
They landed at an embankment where a railroad skirted the shore and it
occurred to Tom now that the guiding light which had forsaken him the
night before was a railroad signal which had been turned the other way
after the passage of the train he had heard. At his suggestion, Archer
bored a hole in the boat and together they gave it a smart push out into
the river.
"Davy Jones forr you, you bloomin' tattle_tile_, as the Tommies would
say," Archer observed in reminiscence of his vast and varied
acquaintanceship. "Come on now, we've got to join our regiment and blow
up a few hospitals. How do you like being a botch, anyway?"
"I'd rather be one now than a year from now," said Tom.
"Thou neverr spakst a truerr worrd.
"Oh, Fritzie Hun, he had a gun,
And other things that's worrse;
He didn't like the foe to strike,
So he shot a Red Cross nurrse,"
Archer rattled on.
"Can't you say _nurse_?" said Tom.
"Surre I can--nurrrrse."
Tom laughed.
They tramped up through the main street of a village, for the populated
area was too extensive to afford hope of a reasonably short detour. The
few people whom they passed in the darkness paid no particular heed to
them. They might have been a couple of khaki-clad boys in America for
all the curiosity they excited.
At the railroad station an army officer glared at them when they saluted
and seemed on the point of accosting them, which gave them a momentary
scare.
"We'd better be careful," said Tom.
"Gee, I thought we had to salute," Archer answered.
They followed the railroad tracks through an open sparsely populated
region as far as the small town of Ottersweier. The few persons who were
abroad paid no particular attention to them, and as long as no one spoke
to them they felt safe, for the street was in almost total darkness.
Once a formidable-looking German policeman scrutinized them, or so they
thought, and a group of soldiers who were sitting in the dark entrance
of a little beer garden looked at them curiously before saluting. Most
of these men were crippled, and indeed as they passed along it seemed
to the fugitives that nearly every man they passed either had his arm in
a sling or was using crutches.
"Do you think maybe they had a hunch we werren't Gerrman soldierrs at
all?" Archer queried.
"No," said Tom. "I think they just didn't want to salute us till they
were sure we were soldiers like themselves. I think a soldier hasn't got
a right even to salute an officer here unless the officer takes some
notice of him. Maybe the officer's got to glance at him first, or
something."
"G-o-od _night_!" said Archer. "Reminds you of America, don't it--_not
'arf_, as the Tommies say. Wouldn't it seem funny not daring to speak to
an officerr therre? Many's the chat I've had with French generals and
English ones, too. Didn't I give old Marshal What's-his-name an elastic
band to put around his paperrs?"
In all probability he had, for he was an aggressive and brazen youngster
without much respect for dignity and authority, and Tom was glad when
they reached the hills, for he had been apprehensive lest his comrade
might essay a familiar pleasantry with some grim official or launch
himself into the perilous pastime of swapping souvenirs with a German
soldier.
But they were both to remember this business about saluting which, if
Tom was right, was eloquent of the German military system, showing how
high was the officer and how low the soldier who might not even pay his
arrogant superior the tribute of a salute without permission.
This knowledge was to serve Tom in good stead before many days should
pass.