"Dresden.—I was sitting in the garden of a suburban restaurant; above me were the dark masses of chestnut trees, while before us, above the railway, was a long strip of bright, summer-night sky. There seemed to be something gloomy and uncanny in the air; the lamps blinked maliciously; a spirit of still expectation rested on the people; furtive glances were cast from time to time at the near embankment. Military trains were expected, and we listened nervously to the noises of the night. The first troop-transports; where were they going—against Russia or to the French frontier? It was whispered that the troops would only be transported by night.
"At last a pounding thud came through the stillness of the night, and soon two colossal engines were silhouetted against the sky, like fire-spitting monsters. Their roar seemed more sinister than usual. Heavy forebodings rumbled out in the rocking and rolling of the endless coaches—the clang of a future, pregnant with death and pain. Suddenly the tables were empty; everyone rushed towards the lighted compartments of the train, and a scene of indescribable jubilation followed as train after train of armed men rushed by into the night.
"Sometimes a troubled father was heard to exclaim: 'If only the first battles were fought and won!' Yet calm confidence prevailed from the very beginning. But the sight of the quiet, machine-like completion of the mobilization strengthened our trust, even though a justifiable indignation and rage filled our hearts at Europe's dastardly attack on the Central States. Hate flamed highest, however, when England declared war against us.
"There are several reasons for this. In the north of Germany, the Englishman is looked upon as the European who stands nearest the German, and with whom we have the most sympathy. His personal reliability and the manly firmness of his bearing, the culture of English social life, English art and style, have given Imperial Germany many points of contact and grounds for sympathy. Our historical interests have never collided. Then we suddenly became aware that this country, under the mask of friendship, had egged on the whole of Europe to attack us. Not because we had injured English feelings or interests, but solely to destroy a competitor and divide his coat of many colours.
"No political necessity compelled modern Carthage to declare war on us, but merely the avowed aim to do a good piece of business by the war. Without England's intrigues Europe would never have dared to attack us. In our case, therefore, hate has sprung out of disappointed love. England has become our mortal enemy, just as Russia is Austria's. In a word, the two Central Powers are inspired by moral superiority over their enemies, and are determined to wage war on them to the last drop of blood, and if fate permits it, to settle them off and settle up with them once for all.
"At the commencement of the mobilization the railway time-tables in force were cancelled; railway traffic ceased, and only slow local-trains ran, stopping at every station to pick up the men. During the nights a gigantic transport of troops went on to the frontiers. From that moment the sale of alcohol on the stations was prohibited. The publication of news concerning troop movements was suppressed, in order to veil our objective and to keep secret our strength on the various frontiers.
"The trains in the Tyrol were decked with wreaths and flowers. They bore Germans from the most southerly corners of our neutral ally—Italy. Members of the Wehrkraftverein (Boy Scouts) inspected the trains at every station, and it is said that a Serb was found bound fast underneath one of the carriages. Serbian scoundrels were found on all sides; if one of them had succeeded in destroying the Brenner line the whole plan of mobilization would have been disturbed. Therefore sentinels were placed along the whole line and strong guards protected every tunnel. At night all lights were put out and those on the engines covered up; even the stations were not illuminated—everywhere darkness.
"Slowly feeling its way, the train crept over the Brenner—it took twelve hours; in Innsbruck the station was crowded with Germans to welcome the warriors, and the ancient hills echoed again and again the 'Wacht am Rhein.' The solemnity which had marked the first days in Munich had given place to boisterous joy. Thousands of men in mountain costume had flocked into Munich to offer themselves as volunteers, and the streets and station rang with their jodeln! (the peculiar cry of Alpine herdsmen).
"Outside the station lay vast quantities of materials for the Flying Corps, and innumerable motor-cars. A regiment of artillery was just leaving, while a band was in the centre of the station; the rhythm of the kettle-drums rolled mightily, and the music clashed in the huge central hall; thousands of voices joined in, then helmets, hats, caps, rifles and swords were waved and the train moved off amid shouts: 'Go for them! Cut them down!' ('Drauf auf die Kerle! Haut sie zusammen!')"[[29]]
[!-- Note Anchor 29 --][Footnote 29: Colonel Frobenius: "Durch Not und Tod" ("Through Distress and Death"). Leipzig, 1915, p. 12 et seq.]