He laughed softly: “Ach! There is no question of that! Are we not rushing on France already? In three weeks or less we shall be in Paris, and shortly after that we shall have England at our mercy.”
I forced a smile, though inwardly his confidence made me tremble. “Aren’t you counting a little too much on your successful invasion of a very small and unprepared country? England and France may also be unprepared, but they have greater resources and more time to collect them than poor Belgium had.”
“Ach, bewahr!” he replied scornfully, “they can never resist our armies. When we take Paris, England’s morale will be broken; she will not be able to raise an army!”
“If you take it!”
“No, when we take it!” he replied, with quite a genial smile. “Don’t deceive yourself; we Germans do not attempt things we are not sure of attaining. Everything is planned to the smallest detail. But tell me, are you in sympathy with the Allies?”
“I am a neutral.”
“Ach, so!... Are all Americans strictly neutral?”
“They are supposed to be.”
He eyed me thoughtfully before saying: “I think they are jealous of us, like England—like all the world! This war must prove Germany’s supremacy and put an end to all that!”
As this interview took place some little time before the battle of the Marne, I must own to a very unneutral pang of resentment, mingled with dread lest his boasting might prove well founded. But, galling as it was, I was convinced the man spoke only what had been drilled into him, and not his own sentiments. He was quite a young fellow, neither aristocratic in appearance nor so self-important as are most of his class. His round blue eyes often softened with the wistful musing of a mind not altogether sure of what he boasted, nor why he was there—what was leading men only slightly more enslaved than he, to fight for an object none could define. Later on he recited some of the horrors he had witnessed on his way from Liège—the so-called legitimate horrors of war, not those relating to civilians—and spoke almost with tears of certain friends he had lost in the conflict. Thus softened, he invited me to have coffee with him in his den, and pressingly repeated the invitation all the way down those interminable, man-encumbered flights of stairs which I made for as soon as politeness permitted. My entering of the room of an officer in command, to obtain a pass which only the administrative authorities could give, might very easily have been understood as an attempt to spy, or attributed to some other equally dangerous motive. Consequently, I could only be grateful, when again at liberty, that my blundering guide had not led me into the presence of a success-drunken superior officer, who might have exhibited his native bullying tendencies when he found me at his mercy. My chance host, it must be acknowledged, was not of this type, and only in regard to Belgium did he reveal that tyranny toward weakness so characteristic of most Prussians in authority.