“Who are you?” An armed soldier stood before me.
I gave a name.
“Where do you come from?”
“I belong to Düsseldorf.”
“So. Where do you come from now?”
“From Borken.”
“But you are not on the road from Borken!”
I knew that, but no other name had occurred to me. What I ought to have said was “Bocholt,” I think.
“I am not bound to follow what you call the direct road, and, anyway, what do you mean by stopping me and questioning me in this fashion?”