saucers. Christian grinned. What a war!
On the church steps there were three young girls in bright skirts and low-cut blouses.
"Ooo," the driver said. "Ooo, la, la."
"Stop here," Christian said.
"Avec plaisir, man colonel," the driver said, and Christian looked at him, surprised and amused at his unsuspected culture.
The driver drew up in front of the church and stared unashamedly at the three girls. One of the girls, a dark, full-bodied creature, holding a bouquet of garden flowers in her hand, giggled. The other two girls giggled with her, and they stared with frank interest at the two car-loads of soldiers.
Christian got out of his car. "Come on, Interpreter," he said to Brandt. Brandt followed him, carrying his camera.
Christian walked up to the girls on the church steps. "Bon jour, Mesdemoiselles," he said, carefully taking his helmet off with a graceful, unofficial salute.
The girls giggled again and the big one said, in French that Christian could understand, "How well he speaks." Christian felt foolishly flattered, and went on, disdaining the use of Brandt's superior French.
"Tell me, ladies," he said, only groping a little for the words, "are there any of your soldiers who have passed through here recently?"
"No, Monsieur," the big one answered, smiling. "We have been deserted completely. Are you going to do us any harm?"
"We do not plan to harm anyone," Christian said, "especially three young ladies of such beauty."
"Now," Brandt said, in German, "now listen to that." Christian grinned. There was something very pleasant about standing there in this old town in front of the church in the morning sunlight, looking at the full bosom of the dark girl showing through her sheer blouse, and flirting with her in the unfamiliar language. It was one of the things you never thought about when you started off to war.
"My," the dark girl said, smiling at him, "is that what they teach you in army school in your country?"
"The war is over," Christian said solemnly, "and you will find that we are truly friends of France."
"Oh," said the dark girl, "what a marvellous propagandist." She looked at him invitingly, and for a moment Christian had a wild thought of perhaps staying in this town for an hour.
"Will there be many like you following?"
"Ten million," said Christian.
The girl threw up her hands in mock despair. "Oh, my God," she said, "what will we do with them all? Here," she offered him the flowers, "because you are the first."
He looked at the flowers with surprise, then took them gently from her hand. What a young, human thing it was to do. How hopeful it was…
"Mademoiselle…" His French became halting. "I don't know how to say it… but… Brandt!"
"The Sergeant wishes to say," Brandt said smoothly and swiftly in his proper French, "that he is most grateful and takes this as a token of the great bond between our two great peoples."
"Yes," said Christian, jealous of Brandt's fluency. "Exactly."
"Ah," said the girl, "he is a Sergeant. The officer." She smiled even more widely at him, and Christian thought, amused, they are not so different from the ones at home.
There were steps behind him, clear and ringing on the cobblestones. Christian turned with the bouquet in his hand. He felt a glancing blow, light but sharp, on his fingers, and the flowers went spinning out of his grasp and scattered on the dirty stones at his feet.
An old Frenchman in a black suit and a greenish felt hat was standing there, a cane in his hand. The old man had a sharp, fierce face and a military ribbon in his lapel. He was glaring furiously at Christian.
"Did you do that?" Christian asked the old man.
"I do not talk to Germans," the old man said. The way he stood made Christian feel that he was an old, retired regular soldier, used to authority. His leathery face, wrinkled and weathered, added to the impression. The old man turned on the girls.
"Sluts!" he said. "Why don't you just lie down? Lift your skirts and be done
On the church steps there were three young girls in bright skirts and low-cut blouses.
"Ooo," the driver said. "Ooo, la, la."
"Stop here," Christian said.
"Avec plaisir, man colonel," the driver said, and Christian looked at him, surprised and amused at his unsuspected culture.
The driver drew up in front of the church and stared unashamedly at the three girls. One of the girls, a dark, full-bodied creature, holding a bouquet of garden flowers in her hand, giggled. The other two girls giggled with her, and they stared with frank interest at the two car-loads of soldiers.
Christian got out of his car. "Come on, Interpreter," he said to Brandt. Brandt followed him, carrying his camera.
Christian walked up to the girls on the church steps. "Bon jour, Mesdemoiselles," he said, carefully taking his helmet off with a graceful, unofficial salute.
The girls giggled again and the big one said, in French that Christian could understand, "How well he speaks." Christian felt foolishly flattered, and went on, disdaining the use of Brandt's superior French.
"Tell me, ladies," he said, only groping a little for the words, "are there any of your soldiers who have passed through here recently?"
"No, Monsieur," the big one answered, smiling. "We have been deserted completely. Are you going to do us any harm?"
"We do not plan to harm anyone," Christian said, "especially three young ladies of such beauty."
"Now," Brandt said, in German, "now listen to that." Christian grinned. There was something very pleasant about standing there in this old town in front of the church in the morning sunlight, looking at the full bosom of the dark girl showing through her sheer blouse, and flirting with her in the unfamiliar language. It was one of the things you never thought about when you started off to war.
"My," the dark girl said, smiling at him, "is that what they teach you in army school in your country?"
"The war is over," Christian said solemnly, "and you will find that we are truly friends of France."
"Oh," said the dark girl, "what a marvellous propagandist." She looked at him invitingly, and for a moment Christian had a wild thought of perhaps staying in this town for an hour.
"Will there be many like you following?"
"Ten million," said Christian.
The girl threw up her hands in mock despair. "Oh, my God," she said, "what will we do with them all? Here," she offered him the flowers, "because you are the first."
He looked at the flowers with surprise, then took them gently from her hand. What a young, human thing it was to do. How hopeful it was…
"Mademoiselle…" His French became halting. "I don't know how to say it… but… Brandt!"
"The Sergeant wishes to say," Brandt said smoothly and swiftly in his proper French, "that he is most grateful and takes this as a token of the great bond between our two great peoples."
"Yes," said Christian, jealous of Brandt's fluency. "Exactly."
"Ah," said the girl, "he is a Sergeant. The officer." She smiled even more widely at him, and Christian thought, amused, they are not so different from the ones at home.
There were steps behind him, clear and ringing on the cobblestones. Christian turned with the bouquet in his hand. He felt a glancing blow, light but sharp, on his fingers, and the flowers went spinning out of his grasp and scattered on the dirty stones at his feet.
An old Frenchman in a black suit and a greenish felt hat was standing there, a cane in his hand. The old man had a sharp, fierce face and a military ribbon in his lapel. He was glaring furiously at Christian.
"Did you do that?" Christian asked the old man.
"I do not talk to Germans," the old man said. The way he stood made Christian feel that he was an old, retired regular soldier, used to authority. His leathery face, wrinkled and weathered, added to the impression. The old man turned on the girls.
"Sluts!" he said. "Why don't you just lie down? Lift your skirts and be done
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