I looked out of the window, pretending to be interested in the country. It was impossible even to pretend to read in that crush. A man on the seat was forcibly expressing his views to two Frauleins on the new (10th) War Loan. They giggled.
I often wonder if those Hamburg folk then had any notion that another fortnight would see the Red Flag floating in their midst.
At Neumünster we had an invasion. The carriage, full already, became packed. Four girls of the farmer class—sisters, I judged them—got in at my window. I lost my place of vantage and was relegated to the middle of the floor. I felt a pasty-faced youth quite close to me sizing me up....
Fortunately the farmer girls riveted all attention for half a dozen stations. They were in boisterous spirits and screamed with laughter at their own jokes. They spoke dialect and I could not understand them, but I grinned feebly in unison. When they got out, I recovered my post by the window. Bless them, anyway, for a diversion.
At the next station an elderly man who was sitting on a basket immediately in front of me said something to me directly. He was not in any way a formidable character, but he spoke villainous dialect and I could not make head or tail of his question. He was referring to something in the station. I said Ja and looked out of the window in a knowing way. But I could not risk a second question. I felt the pasty-faced youth’s eyes on me again, and I made a bee-line for the lavatory. When I emerged I took up a fresh position.
The train was emptying as we approached Kiel, and for a time I got my head out of the window and enjoyed the draught. Then a little girl standing by me asked me to pull up the window again. I had my second sandwich.
We ran into Kiel at about 6 o’clock. There was no difficulty. A guard, in answer to my question, pointed at the Flensburg train. The carriage I got into was not lit at all and almost empty. What a relief to sit! A girl came in to check my ticket, and I went to sleep. We went over the canal in the dark. There were two men in my carriage. I woke up at some wayside station and asked if it was Flensburg. They laughed and said Flensburg was two hours away yet. I muttered sleepily that I was a stranger, and pretended to drop off again.
I reached Flensburg about 10.30 p.m., and thought of the unforgettable scene in The Riddle of the Sands. I was no less depressed than Carruthers on that occasion. I was very thirsty, but it was a poky little station and there was nothing in the shape of a waiting room or coffee-stall. I lingered on the platform and saw a porter who appeared to be closing down for the night. I asked him what time the train to Tondern went next day. He first said 6 o’clock, but then reflected that the next day was Sunday and there would not be a train till eleven. He added that the train went from the other station. So there were two stations in Flensburg! My sentry friend had not told me this. I asked him where the other station was and he directed me. My German at this juncture was so abominable that I think he must have been a Dane.
At the other station, which I found to be the main one, there was a fairly large crowd in the booking hall. They were waiting for the in-coming 11 o’clock train from the north. Entry to the platform and waiting rooms was barred. The train came in, the crowd dissolved, and the station was shut up for the night. I had got to put in twelve dreary hours in this place.
I took risks that night in Flensburg, risks that might have been fatal further south. I argued that here if anywhere one might expect to find a scrubby-faced man with a nautical cap and overcoat. I walked for about an hour past the quays, past the two main hotels, then up towards the church and down again to the quays. I could find no public drinking-fountain, which was what I was looking for, but I had learned the rough geography of the place.