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The dropped caps and the abandoned knapsacks were always French caps and
French knapsacks, cast aside, no doubt, for a quick flight after the
melee.
The Germans had charged after shelling the town, and then the French had
fallen back--or at least so we deduced from the looks of things. In
the debris was no object that bespoke German workmanship or German
ownership. This rather puzzled us until we learned that the Germans, as
tidy in this game of war as in the game of life, made it a hard-and-fast
rule to gather up their own belongings after every engagement, great or
small, leaving behind nothing that might serve to give the enemy an idea
of their losses.
We went by the church. Its spire was gone; but, strange to say, a small
flag--the Tricolor of France--still fluttered from a window where some
one had stuck it. We went by the taverne, or wine shop, which had a
sign over its door--a creature remotely resembling a blue lynx. And
through the door we saw half a loaf of bread and several bottles on a
table.


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