Thereafter when I talked with the Belgian people about the geography of the country, I frequently consulted my map in order to fasten in mind the location of the different towns. My own study of geography in my earlier days had been sadly neglected or forgotten, so I found these very useful gifts. It was quite natural that people, in talking with me about the brutality of the Germans, should mention towns where the most glaring atrocities had been perpetrated. I had also read the Bryce report and the names of certain towns stood out distinctly in my memory. These places I marked with a cross on the map, so as to be sure to visit them, and later, when I visited other destroyed villages or cities, I marked them also, so that later in life I might glance over the maps and easily recall the experiences in each of the places. I thought I had a very nice memento which would always call up vivid recollections. Certain places had been already specially marked in the making of the map by having circles of stars around the town which I did not exactly understand, but supposing they were important cities or capitals of provinces, I was particular to put a cross there as a place which I ought to visit, which I did in most cases. In, fact, before I had completed my tour of the country I had the maps pretty well crossed up, especially in the more important centers throughout the ruined districts.
One striking thing in scanning the maps was that I had not marked a single place which was not in the devastated area, plainly indicating that I had made a careful point of traveling only through the parts which the Germans had destroyed and going only to the worst desolated places at that. In other words, by a glance at my map you could follow my itinerary practically as easily as you can follow a rabbit in the snow by his tracks.
Many a time I contemplated looking back with pleasure and explaining to my American friends in years to come and to my grandchildren, when my hair should be gray, how I had bluffed my way through the German lines and observed the country and the German rule while he was still in possession. It would be a thing of which few men could boast, since it was against the military policy of every country to allow anybody to come from the enemy and go through their land and then go back to the enemy again. That was unheard of. Yet inwardly it was my intention, and, in fact, I had no other idea than that I should accomplish it successfully. Consequently I wrote down nothing. I mean I kept no diary on paper and I wrote no letters. I had many friends in France who would have liked to have a word from me, and also my folks in America expected me to write them letters for news and for souvenirs, but I was afraid to attempt to send any word to them, even indirectly through Holland, as I feared the Germans would open all mail, and finding me in touch with France, would decide that I intended returning there and then would see to it that I did not. Everything that I saw and heard in Belgium, all the information I received, was in my head and not on paper, as I felt that would save me much trouble; so I merely marked the maps with little crosses.
CHAPTER XXVII THE "CAT AND MOUSE" GAME
At length I went to the German Pass office in Brussels. It was called the "Pass-Zentrale," up in the Rue Royale, only a block from the King's palace. I there applied for a pass to Liége. I was told by the sentry to come back in the afternoon, at three o'clock. The office is only open from nine till twelve and from three to six. I went back at three. A young "smart aleck" of the name of Klenkum took my American passport from me and told me to come back the next morning between ten and eleven, giving me, as he spoke, a slip of paper which read, Zwischen zehn und elf. I went back next day and handed Klenkum the slip of paper, which he saucily laid on the other side of the desk and wrote another, telling me to come back in two days, or Sunday between ten and eleven. I was angry. He saw it, and said, "Prisoner, eh?" I did not answer. And so as I opened the door he rubbed it in, saying, Sehr gut, eh? With a sickly smile on my face, I replied, "Yes, very good," and went out. But I was simply boiling. I went to the office of Von Bissing and had quite a talk with him, but nothing came of it. I then went up to Mr. Whitlock and told him what they were doing with me. I said the Germans were keeping my American passport, which was a breach of international law, and playing a kind of "cat and mouse" game with me. Immediately he wrote a letter curtly demanding my passport and ordering them to give me a pass where I wanted to go. I took this letter up and delivered it at headquarters. Well, they ignored the letter entirely, and the pass was given me at the last moment Klenkum had indicated, namely, eleven o'clock on Sunday. But Klenkum was not the particular man who handed it to me. He sent me into another room to a higher officer. My pass was handed me by an important personage.
I was then given some instructions by no less a person than Von Bissing himself. But I had kept the road hot in front of the King's palace, between Mr. Whitlock's office, corner Rue de Trèves and Rue Belliard, and the German Pass-Zentrale in the Rue Royale. This heckling, harassing policy of duplicity was the one which the German Government constantly employed, and when one reflects a moment and makes comparisons, he finds that it is the same policy which they have used in their diplomatic notes and business with the United States ever since the war began. It is almost impossible to pin them down to anything, and have any guarantee that they will keep their word.
As Viellaur, the officer in charge, finally handed me the passports, I jokingly said to him, "There's a good deal of red tape about getting a pass from the German Government, isn't there?"