The train stopped at Goch. The first “field-greys” I had ever seen in my life stood on the platform as I jumped carelessly out of the train.
A harsh grip seized me by the collar, and a huge Prussian cavalry sergeant-major, with fierce eyes under a shining helmet, held me in his iron fist.
“Ha! now we have got the young scamp!”
I would gladly have fallen on my dear “field-grey’s” neck, for never had I felt safer in my life than at that moment.
I tried to explain who I was; but a smile which would have boded but little consolation to anyone else was all the answer I got.
Two brave Landsturm veterans conducted me to Wesel under arrest next morning.
No one was at the office yet to interview me. Small boys had followed me, throwing stones and shouting: “They have got him; they have got him—the spy!” The darling little blond heads!
An orderly received me!
“Sit down—you there. With people like you we don’t lose much time. When the Herr Kapitänleutnant F. arrives, just a short examination—and up in the air you go.”