I recall a young lieutenant of Uhlans who had been wounded in the breast by fragments of a grenade, which likewise had smashed in several of his ribs.

He proudly fingered his newly acquired Iron Cross while the surgeon relaced his battered torso with strips of gauze.

Afterward he asked me for a cigar, providing I had one to spare, saying he had not tasted tobacco for a week and was perishing for a smoke.

We began to take note then how the wounded men watched us as we puffed at our cigars, and we realized they were dumbly envying us each mouthful of smoke.

So we sent our chauffeur to the public market with orders to buy all the cigars he could find on sale there.