I looked up, remembering that I was in Germany. Two very blue eyes were fixed upon me. At the moment I wondered if any arrière pensée lay behind that intense look, but the little man seemed quite friendly, and then our party broke up and we were soon all sound asleep, forgetful of the fact that we were in a country at war with its neighbours.
The following morning (August 3) we got up early, as a car from the Adler Garage had been ordered at 9.30, but it did not come. The employees of the hotel were cool in their behaviour. The concierge, of whom one usually expects servility, proved surly, the waiter calmly insolent. The delay seemed interminable, so Kitty and I sat down and wrote letters, but we found it was of no use to post them, as none were going out of the country; so we put them in our handbags. Then Lyra and I went off in a taxi to the garage to inquire for the car, and found it just ready. As the luggage was being stacked on, two American girls came to ask us how we were going to get out of the country. Lyra offered to take them with us, but they refused because they had not packed up!
At last we were off once more—thankful to be moving, and for some time we were able to enjoy the pretty pastoral scenery, and the charming little houses with black timbering set in their red brick. Our new car was a poor substitute for the Benz,—which had returned to Berlin for war duty,—and our handsome boy had given place to a stolid son of the soil with one green and one blue eye, a kindly soul, who radiated confidence. Outside Schloss Lippe he stopped to shift one of the trunks. Up sauntered an official and asked for his papers, which he produced. Then once more we headed in the direction of Minden.
"Halt." A cordon of soldiers with bayonets across the road put an end to all appreciation of scenery. The "Halt" was very decisive, as well it might be on such an occasion, and we were surrounded by boys—fair-haired, smiling boys, with whom we laughed and talked as much as our limited vocabularies permitted. The chauffeur's pass was produced, and proved satisfactory. If all "Halts" were going to be such friendly affairs, we felt we were in for a merry day. We waived adieus to our youthful soldiers, but within a few hundred yards came another "Halt," and then another, and another. The fifth time we realized hand-waving and friendly salutations were not going to get us very far. Our trunks were to be examined. Our friendly chauffeur pleaded for us, but he was squashed. "This is war time. Examination must be made and no risks taken."
"Yes, but these are children. They only want to get out of the country."
Now, when a woman has said good-by to the popular age of thirty-five, she thinks kindly of a man who includes her amongst the "children," so never shall I forget the chauffeur with bi-coloured eyes! The young man with normal vision would take no risks, and we soon all joined in the game. We pressed our keys upon the soldiers, and not only invited them to climb upon the top of the landaulette, but climbed up ourselves, and obeyed all behests. The first deadly thing to come to light in my trunk was a Canadian bark workbox. "Open it." The contents was critically examined. Then various perilous packets were found: Soap—Soap—and again, Soap!
The sun was hot, and so were we, but the investigation went on very thoroughly. At last it was over, but we were told that we had to go to the Kontrol office—whatever that might be. A chinless juvenile got into the car with us as escort, but he was so weighed down with the sense of his own importance that he was not very interesting. At the Kontrol office we were all marched into a little room. It had a bed, and on a washstand was a basin filled with clean water. We were so dirty after unstrapping and strapping trunks that we asked if we might wash our hands. Two kindly soldiers ministered to us and got us clean towels, and listened sympathetically to the story of our examination. Then in came the adjutant, and no one could have been nicer or more courteous. We explained that we were trying to get to Holland, as we wished to sail to America, and that our one desire was to get out of Germany as quickly as we could. He smiled, and then he went away, and wrote out a little paper and signed it. It was to the effect that we had been examined, and that all was satisfactory. Never have three women been more grateful for a little piece of paper, and when we said good-by to our benefactor, our gratitude was very real.
We were soon spinning along again, but ugly indications of warfare began to be visible. Outside Minden we saw quantities of cannon being mounted, and then suddenly we came upon a motor in a ditch. Children were playing round it, and a man was keeping guard under a tree. Our chauffeur stopped to find out what had happened. The car had belonged to a Russian. He had tried to escape when told to "Halt," and had been shot. Truly the grim game had begun in this peaceful-looking land.
Time after time we were stopped by orders of soldiers, and we got almost used to the imperative "Halt." But we had nothing to fear with our magic passe-partout. A few words of parleying, and then came the usual concession: "You may go on further." No one would say exactly where "further" meant, but surely we should get to the frontier. We headed for Osnabrück, mistaking the road, however, at Lübeck, where the horses were being collected, and that delayed us for some time. The country now began to change in the magical way that countries do change when they begin to merge into neighbouring ones. We began to feel the Dutch element. Men, women, and children seemed to change, too, and to become more and more stolid. Boots gave way to sabots, and the little black and white cows began to wear the sacking jackets that they do in Holland.
Before getting into Osnabrück we passed the railway station. The gates were closed, and we stood still while a long, long train steamed slowly by us—a train decorated with huge boughs of greenery—a train packed with men—husbands, lovers—going to God knows what fate. They were shouting and waving and cheering. That is now a week ago.