Captain Maxey had no information as to how many Germans might be left in the town.  They had occupied it ever since the beginning of the war, and had used it as a rest camp.  There had never been any fighting there.

At the first house on the road, the Captain stopped and pounded.  No answer.

“We are Americans, and must see the people of the house.  If you don’t open, we must break the door.”

A woman’s voice called; “There is nobody here.  Go away, please, and take your men away.  I am sick.”

The Captain called Gerhardt, who began to explain and reassure through the door.  It opened a little way, and an old woman in a nightcap peeped out.  An old man hovered behind her.  She gazed in astonishment at the officers, not understanding.  These were the first soldiers of the Allies she had ever seen.  She had heard the Germans talk about Americans, but thought it was one of their lies, she said.  Once convinced, she let the officers come in and replied to their questions.

No, there were no Boches left in her house.  They had got orders to leave day before yesterday, and had blown up the bridge.  They were concentrating somewhere to the east.  She didn’t know how many were still in the village, nor where they were, but she could tell the Captain where they had been.  Triumphantly she brought out a map of the town—­lost, she said with a meaning smile, by a German officer—­on which the billets were marked.

With this to guide them, Captain Maxey and his men went on up the street.  They took eight prisoners in one cellar, seventeen in another.  When the villagers saw the prisoners bunched together in the square, they came out of their houses and gave information.  This cleaning up, Bert Fuller remarked, was like taking fish from the Platte River when the water was low, simply pailing them out!  There was no sport in it.

At nine o’clock the officers were standing together in the square before the church, checking off on the map the houses that had been searched.  The men were drinking coffee, and eating fresh bread from a baker’s shop.  The square was full of people who had come out to see for themselves.  Some believed that deliverance had come, and others shook their heads and held back, suspecting another trick.  A crowd of children were running about, making friends with the soldiers.  One little girl with yellow curls and a clean white dress had attached herself to Hicks, and was eating chocolate out of his pocket.  Gerhardt was bargaining with the baker for another baking of bread.  The sun was shining, for a change,—­everything was looking cheerful.  This village seemed to be swarming with girls; some of them were pretty, and all were friendly.  The men who had looked so haggard and forlorn when dawn overtook them at the edge of the town, began squaring their shoulders and throwing out their chests.  They were dirty and mud-plastered, but as Claude remarked to the Captain, they actually looked like fresh men.