I pulled them out: birth certificate, certificate of good conduct, foreign passport, and press-card, which were examined the one after the other.
"Are they genuine?"
"Of course, captain; everything is properly signed, stamped, and legalised."
"And what do you want to write about?"
"I don't know yet. The things I see ... and ... of course that cannot do harm to the German army."
"Hm! Hm! All right. So you intend to write friendly about us?"
"Certainly, certainly, sir! Exactly because we hear so many lies from foreign countries about the Germans, I want to try and find out the truth for myself."
"Is that so? Well, the Netherlanders are our friends, and have so much in common with our people."
"Certainly, captain; as a matter of fact we are of the same race."
But here he looked at me in a curious manner, scrutinising my face, as if he asked himself: "Is he pulling my leg, or not?" But not a muscle in my face moved, so that the "Captain" nodded approvingly ... and wrote out a pass for me to go to Visé! I was not allowed to go to Liège, for, as he said, he did not yet know himself how matters stood there. The other officers overwhelmed me with questions: how matters stood in The Netherlands, and whether Great Britain had already declared war against us? I think that at that question I looked utterly perplexed, for in the same breath they told me all they knew about the danger of war for The Netherlands: Great Britain first sent an ultimatum to The Netherlands, to force her into joining the Allies against Germany, and as she had refused, the British Fleet was now on its way to Flushing. I explained to them in detail that they were utterly wrong, but they believed only a half of what I said.