April 19, 1918, will ever remain a memorable date for me. I had just received a request to present myself at the Kommandantur, and a non-commissioned officer was waiting on the ground floor to conduct me to the office. What was the matter now? It had not infrequently happened that a prisoner, after being summoned to the Kommandantur, was never seen by us again. He had been summarily transferred to another prison. My present request, therefore, was not very reassuring. However, I could not hesitate to obey the order. As we were leaving the jail, my escort commenced a conversation in a perfectly casual manner.
“Can you guess why you have been summoned to the Kommandantur?” he asked me.
“Yes,” I replied.
“Well, why are you called there?” he insisted.
“Because I am to be granted my liberty,” I hazarded.
“You are quite right,” he said. “But please, do not state that I told you this, for if it were known I had spoken I should be severely reprimanded, perhaps actually punished, for having communicated this news to you.”
At the Kommandantur, which I now visited for the first time, I was at once ushered into a hall and into the presence of Captain Wolfe, the officer who had been in the habit of visiting the jail from time to time in order to take depositions of prisoners. He appeared, as far as the jail was concerned, to be the “big boss” of the institution. That man left a very unenviable impression on the minds of all the British prisoners who passed through the jail. As for myself, I shall find it very hard to forgive him for having ignored the multiplication of requests I addressed to him during my three years of captivity.
As I approached his table he looked up, but he made no sign nor uttered a word until I politely bade him good morning. Then he condescended to speak.