Mannheim, Wednesday, December 2d. At half-past seven this morning I was awakened from a sound sleep by a pounding at my door. I climbed sleepily out of bed and, in pajamas, opened the door to two extremely polite and suave Secret Service men who, nevertheless, examined my papers with the greatest thoroughness and as carefully cross-questioned me as to my race, color, and previous condition. They asked to see my dispatches, whose seals they studied in order to be certain that I was really carrying some sort of official messages. Having listened with close attention to my story, they asked me out of a clear sky where Donait was and why he had left me. They capped the climax by reminding me that at Leopoldshöhe I had told the sergeant we were bound for Berlin, which was exactly what I had told him, not having considered the brief stop at Mannheim of sufficient importance to be mentioned. When they had received a satisfactory explanation of the discrepancy (the conversation having staggered along in German, of which my knowledge is limited) they thanked me politely and withdrew. I dressed, had breakfast, and presented myself at the Consulate just before the opening hour at ten.
I was received by the Vice-Consul, Mr. Cochrane, and had not been in the Consulate five minutes when the police office called him up by telephone and asked politely if I was “all right.” It was my first lesson with the German Secret Service, but the only one I needed to prove that while I was in Germany my every move was noted and that I was to be constantly under police surveillance.
After delivering my packages to the Consulate I waited until after dinner for Donait, with whom I am to leave for Berlin at nine o’clock. I took luncheon with Vice-Consul Cochrane, spent the afternoon sightseeing in the streets of the city, and dined with Consul Leishman and his wife.
Berlin, Thursday, December 3d. Donait and I had a whole compartment to ourselves last night, which shows how normally German railroads are running. We arrived in Berlin at eight o’clock this morning, bathed, dressed, and had breakfast, at eleven o’clock presented ourselves at the American Embassy and delivered our precious dispatch pouch to Mr. Grew, the First Secretary.
I was surprised and much pleased to find that an old playmate, Charles Russell, was Private Secretary to Ambassador Gerard, a position in which he has achieved a great success.
Our duty discharged, we hastened to take our first walk along the famous Unter den Linden. The city of Berlin is well laid out, with wide avenues and numerous and ample park spaces, some of them very large, but the architecture of the city is a jumble of heavy, clumsy, gloomy buildings, fussed up with most extraordinarily crude and grotesque details. For an architect to be in Berlin is next door to being in hell.
Our Military Attaché, Major Langhorne, has been at the front almost continuously since the beginning of operations. In his absence, we called upon the Naval Attaché. I also called at the American Consulate to leave dispatches and found that the Vice-Consul had been one of my classmates at Yale. He remembered me as “Fish Wood” the runner, and probably in true Yale spirit considered my occupation of Attaché much less important.
The present conditions in Berlin are as unknown to the outside world as are the domestic affairs of China. In order not to make too many diplomatic faux pas, I spent the first day talking with the men whom I knew and in accumulating useful data as to danger points. As one in Germany senses efficiency, one as quickly becomes conscious of the all-seeing eye and the all-guiding hand of the Government. We have nothing like that in America, and for an American in France there is no such supervision. Life in Prussia is at present, for the diplomat of a neutral country, much like skating on thin ice. Several of the younger diplomats in Berlin have unconsciously committed acts considered indiscreet by the German Government, and so ended their usefulness in Germany.