Cotton was ordered to return to Osnabruck, and was replaced by a German orderly. An armed guard was placed outside my bedroom door, day and night, and whenever I took exercise in the garden, I could hear his footsteps behind me, following me wherever I went, and spitting on the ground every two or three yards.
On the second day after my arrival, I went for my final examination, and the medical officer told me he would send his sergeant-major, who could speak good English, to have a talk with me that evening. What did that mean? Why should he want to talk to me? I became suspicious and awaited his coming with some uneasiness.
He arrived about 7 o'clock that evening, bringing a friend and two bottles of wine. They opened the wine and we smoked together. Conversation was going to be very difficult. I felt I was going to be pumped for information.
It was going to be a battle of wits—I could feel it in my veins.
I made up my mind to be pleasant and tactful and meet every question by asking one.
As a matter of fact, I was mistaken. They were Germans who had lived in England and worked at the Deutsche Bank in George Yard, Lombard Street, until war broke out, and had lived in Highbury. I soon found out that they were not bad fellows at all, although their opening conversation did put my back up, and make me suspicious.
"London must be full of soldiers?"
I replied cautiously:
"Well, I suppose the big cities, London, Paris, Berlin, Vienna, must all be full of soldiers these days."
"But what do the English people really think about the cause of the war?"