"Angleterre, Capitaine; très bien!"
I waited outside the office for about half an hour. Wishart of the Canadians was inside, and presently he came out to fetch me:
"They want to see you inside. Who do you think is in there?"
"I don't know—who?"
"Doctor Pohlmann. He supervises all the prison camps belonging to the Tenth Army. We've got to go to a prisoners' camp."
My hopes were dashed to the ground.
Ho led me in, and I sat down before Doctor Pohlmann, who spoke excellent English, and explained that he was a doctor of languages.
He filled up a form, taking from me particulars of my name, regiment, and the usual details; and then, turning to Wishart, told him to go.
I began to feel that I was in for a rough time. Why did Doctor Pohlmann wish to speak to me alone.
I sat before him in silence, too disappointed at the turn events had taken to care what happened. But as soon as the door had closed he turned towards me, and his remarks surprised me beyond measure. Not a single question did he put to me to elicit information.