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Once, as a cook perched on a step at the back of his wagon bent forward
to stir the stew with a spoon almost big enough for a spade, I saw under
his hiked-up coat-tails that at the back of his gray trousers there were
four suspender buttons in a row instead of two. The purpose of this was
plain: when his suspenders chafed him he might, by shifting the straps
to different buttons, shift the strain on his shoulders. All German
soldiers' trousers have this extra garnishment of buttons aft.
Somebody thought of that. Somebody thought of everything.
We in America are accustomed to think of the Germans as an obese race,
swinging big paunches in front of them; but in that army the only fat
men we saw were officers, and not so many of them. On occasion, some
colonel, beefy as a brisket and with rolls of fat on the back of his
close-shaved neck, would be seen bouncing by, balancing his tired
stomach on his saddle pommel; but, without exception, the men in the
ranks were trained down and fine drawn.


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