One night--there were about ten of us--we were surprised to find a
light in an empty farmhouse, and were still more surprised to find
sounds of revelry coming out through the window. We peeped in, and
there were about fifty Germans all over the shop, drinking, and eating,
and smoking, and generally trying to look as if they were having a
jolly old time. It was a dare-devil of an Irishman who suggested that
we ought to give the Germans a little surprise, and we were all in with
him. Doing our best to look fierce, and create the impression that we
had at least a brigade behind us, we flung open the door without any
ceremony. Our first rush was for the passage where most of the Germans
had stacked their rifles, and from there we were able to cover the
largest party in any one room. They were so taken aback that they made
very little resistance. The only chap who showed any fight at all was a
big fellow, who had good reason to fear us, for he had escaped the day
before, after being arrested as a spy. He whipped out a revolver, and
some of his chums drew swords, but we fired into them, and they threw
up their hands, after the little one had sent a revolver bullet through
my arm. We fastened them up securely, collected all the smokes and
grub they had not touched, and marched them off to the camp. There was
a nice how-d’ye-do when we got back, for the sound of firing so close
by had alarmed the whole camp, and we were called to account for our
behaviour. I think they were inclined to let us down lightly, because
of the prisoners, particularly the spy chap; but we had no business to
be out of barracks that night, and we’ll probably have some mark of
official displeasure chalked up against us: _Pte. F. Lewis, 1st South
Staffs_.