Page:Ambulance 464 by Julien Bryan.djvu/163

. There weren't enough forks to go round, so we ate them with our fingers. One old fellow from Toulouse who told me afterwards that he was forty-eight years old, bragged that he hadn't tasted a drop of water for ten years. They joked all during the meal about their wine and told me I'd never be a real poilu (the word really means "hairy one") if I didn't drink pinard. So finally I let them pour me out a glass and we gave a toast to the speedy ending of the war.