,0 < ^ ^ K^ .'\ ^o. c"^ O J' V I B ^- ' 'y ^ --5, ^O^^v'^ ■-"*-. •^- 0% -u .0 o^ i. 'O * * s '^ \0 <"^ ^ , X * .A ■ , X * .A O "^ 1 '^,/m^\ ^; BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL The Author BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL A RECORD OF A JOURNALISTIC WAR PILGRIMAGE J. M. DE BEAUFORT (CoDNT VAN MAURIK DE BEAUFORT) Recently War Correspondent of the London Daily Telegraph WITH ILLUSTRATIONS AND MAPS NEW YORK DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 1917 ^o^f COPTRIQHT, 1917 By DODD. mead AND COMPANY. Inc. MAY -8 1917 ©C!.A460640 TO M. L. T. best of friends, TO "JEAN" who has ever been my ideal and inspiration, AND TO GEORGE H. T., JUSTIN McGr., ROBERT C. McC, ARTHUR C, AND ARTHUR D. American friends tried and true, who have helped me through many dark hours and who taught me how to become a good American I DEDICATE THIS BOOK AUTHOR'S ACKNOWLEDGMENT I am greatly indebted to Dr. G. W. Prothero, Editor of the Quarterly Revieio, for his kind jjermission to republish the articles on the German Navy, Helgoland, Kiel, the Ger- man Coast Defences and the Maps, which appeared in the July and October, 1916, numbers of his publication. My acknowledgment and thanks are also due to the Lon- don Daily Telegraph in which parts of Chapters VII., X., XLI., XLV., XLVII. and LIII, have been published, and to the London Sunday Pictorial for permission to reprint Chapters XXII. and XXVI. (Hindenburg and the Kaiser). J. M. DE B. CONTENTS luTRODtrcnoK xiii PART I GENERAL IMPRESSIONS CHAPTER PAGE I. The Veil and the Methods 3 II. My " PoixT d'Appui " — Robie 14 III. "The Adder" 19 IV. German Mind and Character 22 V. German Psychology 27 VI. The Press in Germany 31 VII. Berlin Impressions 46 VIII. Berlin Impressions (continued) 51 IX. Munich 65 X. Zeppelins '''2 XI. Spies and Spying — I 82 XII. Spies and Spying — II 88 XIII. Spies and Spying — III 96 XIV. A German Fable 100 XV. German Women 105 XVI. Hunting with the Camera 115 XVII. "Spiritual Humol-r" (German Variety) . . 130 PART II MY TRIP TO THE EASTERN FRONT AND VISIT TO HINDENBURG XVIII. Preliminaries 129 XIX. Berlin — Allenstein. Meeting with Young VON Bethmann-Hollweg — Arrest in the Fortress of Posen ... in Pyjamas . . . 134 XX. Allenstein 146 XXI. Allenstein — Feste Boten (Lotzen) . . . 156 CONTENTS CffAPTEB tAGB XXII. HlNDENBUaG 163 XXIII. LoTZEN 177 XXIV. En Route 183 XXV. Impressions int the Polish Fightikg Zones . . 193 XXVI. When I Prated with the Kaiser 208 XXVII.. HlNDENBtTRG LtTDENDORFF AND FaLKENHATN . 217 XXVIII. Railroads 223 XXIX. Retrospect 225 PART III AN INCOGNITO VISIT TO THE FLEET AND GER- MANY'S NAVAL HARBOURS XXX. The German Admiralty 235 XXXI. Germany's Coast Defences 239 XXXII. Heligoland 249 XXXIII. Protection of the Kiel Canal 255 XXXIV. From Emden to Wilhelmshaven 259 XXXV. Wilhelmshaven 269 XXXVI. Wilhelmshaven to Cuxhaven 273 XXXVII. Cuxhaven to Kiel. The Canal 280 XXXVIII. Kiel Harbour 290 XXXIX. Training and Strategy 298 XL. XLI. XLII. XLIII. XLIV. XLV. XL VI. PART IV INTERVIEWS Introductions 307 Arthur von Gwinner 309 Dr. Walther Rathenau . 320 Ambassador Count von Bernstorff .... 328 Matthias Erzberger — Press Manipulator and Advertising Expert 332 Secretary of the Late German Colonies, " Ex- cellenz Dr. Solf," and His A.D.C, Dr. BiicHER 339 Sassenbach — Social Democrat 346 Minister of the Interior — Helfferich . . . 352 CHAPTER XLVII. XLVIII. XLIX. L. LI. LII. LIII. LIV. CONTENTS PAOE Admiral von Capelle and " Captain Lieuten- ant" LOHLEIN 353 Press-Major Herwarth von Bitterfeld of the Great General Staff Settles the Problem of Universal Peace 355 Herr Crass, Krupp's Representative in Berlin , 360 Herr Ballin's A.D.C, Herr von Holtzendorff . 365 The German-Turkish Alliance and Its Am- bitions 368 On " Strafing " and Those Who Don't . . . 387 The Fateful Interview with Baron Macchio, Late Austro-Hungarian Ambassador in Rome 392 Another " Daily Telegraph " Interview that Upset Berlin. Trouble — Arrest — Escape . 396 PART V FINALE Envoy 401 ILLUSTRATIONS The Author Frontispiece FACING PAGE The Magic Key. My Letter of Introduction to Ilindenburg written by his nephew. The address reads: To the Royal Field-Marshal, Knight of the Highest Order, Herr von Beneckendorff und von Hindenburg 16 Conscription in England. John Bull learning the goose step . 2S Winter Campaign in Poland. Kaiser in conversation with Commander of a Landwehr Division 48 No Admission to Potsdam 56 Landwehr Non-Commissioned Officers 68 English Tricks. In order to protect public buildings from Zeppelin bombs, the English have placed German prisoners on the roofs ' 74 Zeppelin over London. The End of England's Sea-Power. Lord Nelson descending from his Column to hide in the Underground Railway 80 Zeppelin over Lodz 84 In the Polish fighting zones. Man on left of picture was shot at the moment of re-loading 96 The fighting near and in the woods of Augustowo . ... 96 German tars winding a wreath of mines aroimd Miss Britannia 110 Englishman in Hell. "No Zeppelins, no Krupp Howitzers; no Submarines ! Why, I must be in Heaven ! " . . . . 122 At AUenstein Station. Von Bethmann-Hollweg, nephew of the Chancellor, centre. Lieutenant von Plewe, right . . 138 Lieutenant von Bethmann-Hollweg, who has since been killed, on the right, and the Author. Photograph was taken at AUenstein Station 150 Russian Prisoners 170 The Author's car at Fortress Boy en (Lotzen), Hindenburg's headquarters. Note the Chauffeur's rifle near lamp . . 184 Patrol of woods of Augustowo 190 Advancing near Augustowo 190 German Soldiers on the Russian Front 200 ILLUSTRATIONS FACING PAGE A snapshot of the Kaiser taken by Prince Oscar. It was sent to a photographer in a small town to have film developed. The man printed a few copies for his own use, and sent one to an agency in Berlin. The Berlin firm sold the photograph, but the moment it appeared the greater part of the magazine in which it was published was confiscated 214 Hindenburg and his Staff. Ludendorff appropriately placed on Hindenburg's right 220 Auto Train, Eastern Front 223 German retreat at Mlawa 226 Russian Prisoners 230 Popular Naval Poster. " Let us drink the health of the good old Emden, who is throwing such a lot of good things in our way " 262 Commander's bridge (starboard side) of the Helgoland . . 282 Recently completed railroad bridge over the Kiel Canal near 'Rendsburg 286 Augustowo Dugouts 330 Native Soldiers of Kamerun 342 One of the largest Zeppelins leaving its shed at Marienthal, near Berlin. Note size of men on top 352 A model Krupp gun, small type of the 42 cm. howitzer. This model is in the author's possession 352 The Famous Krupp Armament Works at Essen. 5000 ton Press 362 England astride Egypt, and pulling the wires for the Khedive. Figure in foreground represents Sultan of Turkey ready with a pair of scissors to cut the strings . . . . . . 370 German Prisoners in England. How the press keeps the fires of " strafing " England burning 388 MAPS Germany's Coast Defences along the North Sea 238 Heligoland 248 Wilhelmshaven 268 Kiel Harbour 294 INTRODUCTION In the following chapters I have tried to record my impressions, observations, interviews and adventures on a somewhat extensive journalistic pilgrimage through Germany in war-time. Before embarking on my descriptions, I am going to permit myself what Parliamentarians call a " personal note," which will show you that my acquaintance with Germany and the Germans is not of the " war-made " variety. Since I am convinced that but for my American journalistic training, I would never have been able to accomplish many of my journalistic enterprises, I take this occasion to acknowledge with a deep sense of ap- preciation and gratitude, my three years' apprentice- ship in America. They taught me many things ; they revealed to me an entirely new aspect of life. I learned the real meaning of the terms " Hustle," " Get busy " and " Stick to it." I learned there that there are many other battlefields where spurs and honours may be won than those of war and murder. I look back with interest and pleasure to many friendly (and some- times unfriendly but always spirited) contests with col- leagues, in trying to obtain the best " story " for one's own paper or even to score a " beat." The outbreak of the war found me in America. Much as I disliked and against the advice of many friends, I gave up m}' work there. Europe called. Blood will tell. I soon found myself getting restless. xiv INTRODUCTION My sympathies with the Allies, more specifically the British cause, urged that I had no right to lag behind in making sacrifices. So in September, 1914, I bid " Au revoir " to Amer- ica and since then and thanks to that belated American Education, I have been able to do " my bit," as we say over there, in various capacities. While my British confreres were still camping on the doormat of the War Office, waiting for those elu- sive permits (for many of them it was a case of " Wait and See," without the " see "), I was fortunate enough to reach the front at Ostende, Nieuport, Dixmude, Ypres and soon found myself in the thick of it. Oh, yes, I was arrested more than once, but I had not served my apprenticeship in American newspaperdom, without benefit. I could talk a " straight streak " in just the language the other fellow did not know — when necessary, and though I often skated on mighty thin ice I usually managed to keep out of jail. I have had the rare privilege of reading my own obit- uary and even aff^orded a colleague the somewhat unique experience of shaking hands with a man whose " In Memoriam " he had written in one solid column. As your Mark Twain put it, " the report was some- what exaggerated." (Not the first time either!) Though I had a close call, I escaped, and — as you shall see — I am still " in the ring." By birth and parentage I am a Hollander, but the " de Beaufort " part of my name comes from a grand- uncle who was a native of the Grand Duchy of Luxem- bourg. Since 1914 my better half, or I should say my best half, has been American. Let me hasten to ex- plain this. Before starting for the theatre of war I applied, at the advice of a friend, for my first American citizenship papers. I hope to obtain my final papers INTRODUCTION xv shortly, after which I shall place my services at the disposal of the American Government. My father belonged to that type of stubborn parent who thinks he knows what is best for a boy of fifteen. He had very pronounced views, like some other people, on the Gorman educational sj'stem (so have I, for that matter, but the}' are somewhat different). He thouglit that I should benefit by a few years of German school and college. And, in spite of stormy and liquid pro- tests, to Germany I went. From an English tutor to a German schoolmaster! It did not take me many days after my arrival in Ger- many to find out the abysmal diflFerence that separates the two, and to suffer accordingly. Talk about the two educational systems — Ye gods ! If there is any one who ought to be able to discourse on them, I think I am the man. Being at the time — not now — an embryo large landowner, I was first sent to the Agricultural College at Cleve in the Rhine province. My " tenderest " recollections of that institution are connected with the gymnasium and a three-foot bamboo rod. Already then I shoAved literary tendencies, but, alas ! they were neither appreciated nor encouraged. My first effort was to try and censor one of their patriotic poems. Imagine a self-respecting Hollander having to stand up in front of the class and recite five verses, each ending with : " I am a Prussian, and a Prussian I will be." Once a term or so they hold in Germany what is called " Offentliche Priifung " ; in other words, a " public ex- amination." The parents are invited, and those whose offspring are " show specimens " bring their friends (mine did not). The boys wear their best clothes, and, of course, only the smartest amongst them perform. xvi INTRODUCTION I suppose just to show that there was no ill-feeling on his part, the Headmaster, Herr Fiirstenberg — I can still see him with his mean grey eyes, looking at me over the rim of his glasses and getting a firm hold on the rod — appointed me to recite the obnoxious poem. Amid dead silence I started. When I came to the end of the verse in which I had eulogised the " old father Rhine," I yelled: " And I am a Dutchman, and a Dutchman I will be." It is a few years ago, but I can still see the startled audience and the awful pallor of old Fiirstenberg. An anarchist's bomb could not have had a greater effect. Then some of the people tried to smile it away, but the smile was somewhat sickly. I was promptly torn from the stand ; somebody tried to turn my ear upside-down, to which I retaliated with a well-directed kick, and then, — well, never mind. There was a vacancy at the Agricultural College. Cleve was very uncosmopolitan. My fellow-students consisted mostly of the sons of large landowners and gentlemen farmers, and they resented, not always merely passively, the intrusion of a " Verdamrate Auslander " (" damned foreigner ") in their Germanic midst. But there was, as there is in most things in life, a price. If you were willing to demonstrate practi- cal socialism — i.e., share your money, your sweets, your pony, your bicycle, or whatever it might be — you were, for such time as your possessions lasted, a " Lieber Kerl " ("dear chap"). Unfortunately I soon dis- covered that the particular socialistic principle pro- pounded by my fellow-students — ■■ i.e., of sharing all you had — ■■ was a somewhat one-sided law, as I did all the sharing, and they all the partaking, without prac- tising the same doctrines as far as their own possessions INTRODUCTION xvii were concerned. So I resigned. This did not increase my popularit3% I had as many fights as any self-re- specting bo}' of fifteen could have in the Fatherland, and that, let me assure you, was sufficient to keep me in practice. But there is one incident which will best illustrate the " camaraderie " that exists amongst German " sport- ing " schoolboys. There is a saying, that the boy is father to the man. I understand its meaning now. Boxing is a lost art in Germany ; it was in my days and is so still. Wrestling is their forte. Quite natural, too. The German is heavy in mind as well as in body. Wrestling does not require as quick an eye as boxing. Thanks to the very good lessons of my old English tutor, God bless him, who, between trying to teach me to pronounce " th " and the English " r," had initiated me into the secrets of boxing, I emerged victorious from many scraps. It was the day after one of those periodical fights in which two boys of the " secunda " (I was only " ter- tia "), had received many marks but few honours, that I met my two opponents in the Park accompanied by four of their friends. Of course I was waylaid, and the usual schoolboy argument, " I can lick you," " No, you can't," ensued. I owned in those days an English bulldog. He looked very fierce, always wore the " By- Jingo-if-I-do " sort of expression, and was never im- pressed by German flattery either from man or beast. (Old Bob knew a lot, if only he could have talked ! But perhaps it was just as well he couldn't. He probably would say now : " I told you so." But " revenons a nos moutons.") " Boxing," so I was informed, was not a gentlemanly way of fighting. Only English navvies fought with xviii INTRODUCTION their fists. But wrestling, and wrestling according to the approved Roman or Grecian rules, now that was a different matter ; that was " fair and square " ! I told them that I was innocent of any knowledge of the Roman-Greco wrestling rules, but I offered to thrash my two opponents of yesterday once again where they stood, and I hoped that the proportion of two to one in their favour would make up for my ig- norance and perhaps consequent transgression of those rules. Here is where German diplomacy got the best of me. " Assisted by dog and stick ? " they sneeringly in- quired. I was very young and inexperienced in Ger- man methods in those days, so I was deeply insulted and most indignant at their daring to suggest such a cowardly thing. " I don't need anything else but my two fists," I yelled, " to liclc two German pigs like you." And to prove my assertion, I turned aside to where a little kind-faced, grey-bearded old German stood, and, with a polite bow, I begged him to be kind enough to hold my dog and stick for a few moments. He ver}"^ kindly condescended to accept the charge, but thought it safer to take old Bob away from the scene of the forthcoming battle. He was a wise old German. " Divide and win " was already in those days the motto of these young warriors. "Fair and square?" Why, even then they were mere words, mere " scraps of paper." I will not go into painful details of that engagement ; suffice it to say that I received the worst beating I ever had, or ever heard tell of. The moment my faithful friend and ally had disappeared from view, all SIX of them attacked me. Not only the " scenery of my face " — as, in my early English-speaking days I used to say instead of " expression," — but the contour as INTRODUCTION xix well suffered a thorough change. It was many weeks before it returned to its normal proportions and col- ours. There was no doubt about it; this time / bore the marks, but had they the honours ? German-like, of course they thought so, but I differed from them, and . . . remembered. From Cleve I went to Bonn, which was comparatively uneventful, as, of course, I gradually began to grasp the German point of view. My earlier impressions were the most pregnant and vivid. Often during the last two years they have come back to me and that is probably the reason why I have not been able to share the feelings of surprise my English friends experience when reading the reports of the German way of fighting. Never, until this war, did I really fully appreciate the advantage those three years in Germany conferred on me. I apologise to my father. He was right — Germany taught me many things; but, best of all, " I learned about ' Germans ' from her." J. M. DE B. New York, April, 1917. PART I GENERAL IMPRESSIONS Behind the German Veil CHAPTER I THE VEIL AND THE METHODS "r INHERE is no German Veil; we have nothing to A hide." Thus Major Deutelmoser, Chief of the Press Department of the General Staff in Berlin, coun- tered when I jestingly remarked that I had come to German}^, " to have a peep behind the veil." How many a true word is spoken in jest ! I received practically the same reply everywhere whenever I suggested the veil or " behind the scenes." " We have nothing to hide," thundered Major Her- warth von Bitterfeld, of the Intelligence Service. *' The German Veil is only another of the many inven- tions of our enemies, chiefly the English. You can see everything in Germany ; go anywhere, everything is open and above board." " The German Veil is a myth," said Baron Mumm von Schwarzenstein, of the Foreign Office ; " it is as great a myth as the British Fleet in the German Ocean.* It does not exist. It is an illusion." There you are, dear reader, three opinions thrown at me — nay, I feel inclined to say, jammed down my throat — many times a day during the months I spent in Germany. The ideas that existed in England about Germany during the early months of the war were simply ap- 1 German for North Sea. 3 4 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL palling. Many opinions expressed by the majority of people were preposterous. And when I say " people," I do not mean that vague individual, " the man in the street," but your educated, well-read and even well-travelled classes: soldiers, par- liamentarians, writers (famous strategists!), etc., etc. To read some of your papers, to listen to some of your people, one would have thought that the Russians were going to march through the Brandenburger Thor of Berlin by Christmas, 1914, and that the Belgians would celebrate New Year's Eve in their beloved Brussels. The Kaiser was to be deposed, and Prussia was going to receive a really liberal constitution. Germany could not stand the financial strain. The military corre- spondent of one of your most important papers wrote in August, 1914 : " German financial experts have sug- gested ways and means for financing a war lasting six months, but no longer, on the present enormous scale " ! A well-known Member of Parliament told me in Janu- ary, 1915, that Germany would sue for peace in three months ; a military writer — a colonel — wrote that the last German offensive would take place in September, 1915, and that in the following October the Allied line would run from Ostend, through Maubeuge, Ardennes, Luxembourg, Metz, Strassburg! Germany would soon be short of everything — bread, copper, cotton, rubber, petrol — and, if you read some of the statistics given by your " experts " on German man-power, the German trenches ought to have been manned for the last six months by idiots and cripples. Even to-day, after twenty-eight months of war, there are still many people in this country who have not the faintest understanding about the German character, the German aims, their cunning and their designs. THE VEIL AND THE METHODS 5 Here and there I hear whispers about peace ; I am asked whether the present peace-talk may lead to anything. I hope to God it will ! I hope it will lead to a doubled — nay, to a hundred- fold — renewed effort of smashing the Germans' war- machine. I should like to see the Germans — in the famous words of Bismarck when he referred to the French — " left with nothing but their eyes to weep with." Alas! that will prove too expensive an order, but they must be beaten, and they can be beaten only by the memory of those that have sacrificed their lives ; disabuse yourself of the illusion that it is done already. Germany is far from beaten yet. " But they want peace," I have been told so often these last weeks. Perhaps they do ; again, perhaps they don't ! The Germans are no fools, whatever else they may be, and they are perfectly well aware that the Allies would not, and could not, accept any terms which Germany at present, with both eyes on the map, would propose. I do not believe that there is any peace door " ajar " yet. I think that entrance or exit, what- ever you choose to call it, is still barred and locked, and that the deceptive " latchstring " hanging outside is connected with a mine. The Germans are merely look- ing out of the window — the top-floor one — and I think that whosoever would venture close to that " peace door " would have a somewhat similar experience as some of our men had early in the war, when they rushed towards " surrendering " Germans, showing the white flag and standing with their hands up. I fear that there is a great deal more than barbed wire and machine-guns behind that German " peace door." It may not be so evident to those who only look as far as . . . the door; but let me quote part of a con- 6 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL versation I had with one of Hindenburg's staff-officers at Allenstein, East Prussia, last year; it may enlarge their view. Said he : " We never thought we could do it. We never ex- pected that we should be called upon to fight so many enemies at the same time. We were not prepared for that. We were short of ammunition in November, 1914. But if we are able to accomplish all we have up till now, UN prepared, then ' Himmel ' " (by heaven!), " give us a draw now and see what we can do ten years hence." Yes, perhaps Germany wants peace now, but only because she wants to have foundations left upon which to build a new organisation, a new stupendous war- machine, which in ten years from now would dwarf anything the world has yet seen, heard or imagined. That is what I should answer to those who are think- ing of peace now. Since the beginning of the war I have had arguments, discussions, remonstrations, and even to a certain extent quarrels, with many friends and acquaintances, some- times even at the risk of being suspected of pro-German sympathies. Of course, before my recent German visit my arguments were weakened by the fact that I had not been in Germany for six or seven years, and there- fore could not speak from fresh personal observation. So, when after several months at the Belgian front and in France, the London DaUy Telegraph, in con- junction with several American publications, offered me a special journalistic mission, viz., to go to Ger- many, I accepted with alacrity. I thought that by going to Germany as a journalist, by looking round, and seeing what the general feeling of the people was; their mental attitude towards the THE VEIL AND THE METHODS 7 war, the condition of the country generally, etc., etc., and by telling the people of the allied countries on my return what I had seen, I would be doing my share. It has been suggested — I have even seen it in print — that I undertook my trip on behalf of the British Intelligence Service. Any such assertion is absolutely and utterly false. I held no brief, either for the British or for any other Government, and I have never received, nor asked, one single penny from any other sources but those in payment for journalistic and literary material which has been published. I started on my mission and entered Germany with as far as possible an open mind. I could not honestly say at that time that I hated the Germans ; I merely had no use for them. Besides, I have always believed that the spirit of hatred is a great drawback to any journalist. It tends to blind intelligent observation; it makes him see matters distorted. I wanted no secrets, naval, military or otherwise ; I wanted news, straight, honest, reliable news. My likes or dislikes had nothing to do with my work. I entered upon my mission in exactly the same spirit as I would have had in Paris, Rome, Petrograd, Constantinople, etc. But even a journalist of less perspicacity than one schooled in America would soon find out that " straight, reliable news " are somewhat rare and expensive commodities in Germany these days. You might find " news," but without the " reliable " or the " straight." You may find the " reliable " and the " straight " but without it being news. " We have nothing to hide." H'm ! only you must look at everything with German-coloured glasses. If you happen to try to talk with a private, very soon his superior oflScer will cut short his answers and reply for 8 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL him. If for the sake of argument you take the " purely hypothetical " case, " Suppose Germany should be de- feated? " you are told at once that unless you wish to make yourself thoroughly unpopular in Germany, and have your entire mission become an utter failure, you must not suggest such " impossible abstract cases " ; you must not " put such ideas into people's heads ! " Except in the case of certain show prisoners' camps, every journalist is rigorously excluded from Belgium, Luxembourg and Poland, which have remained terra incognita to all journalists, except those who have given abundant proofs that they were willing to read and see everything with German spectacles. And even they are not allowed to roam at large. If you want any inter- views you must accept the " made in Germany " vari- ety. In fine, they have " nothing to hide," but you must ask no questions ; you must travel round Germany hand in hand with your German guardian angel, who watches and wards you night and day ; and except when he tells you to " stop, look and listen," you must " Move on," deaf, dumb and blind ! Consequently, to be a "successful" journalist in Germany means selling your birthright for a mess of pottage. Let me hasten, though, to add that the sale is so cleverly disguised that the majority of neutral journalists are unaware of it. Why? Ah, that is difficult to explain. It is the German atmosphere. The German war atmosphere has a most peculiar, strange and indescribable effect upon the mind. I feel that I can state without fear of contradiction that out of every thousand real neutrals that enter Germany, nine hundred and ninety-nine succumb within a few short weeks to German " ideals " and points of view. Indeed, you must carry the strongest pro-Ally or pro- THE VEIL AND THE METHODS 9 British convictions, in order to be able to withstand the German influence getting hold of you. It is a most marvellous, a most extraordinary phe- nomenon ; it is something indefinably subtle, and in my heart I cannot blame any colleagues for having become hypnotised by that influence. The German arguments are convincing; they are plausible, logical, final, to the German and the German-prepared mind. I fear I cannot even attempt to describe it within the space of a chapter. It has become something like the spirit of religion. I have watched and seen its eff^ect upon colleagues who entered Germany in a neutral state of mind, some even with a leaning towards the Allied side. Within a week they were " converted." And I may as well confess right now that even I, heart, body and soul pro-British as I am and have been for twelve years, even I realise that at times it was only the strong impenetrable armour of my motto, " Right or Wrong — England," that kept me unscathed. This is what a neutral journalist in Germany finds himself pitted against. To collect news and reliable impressions in spite of those influences, which are at work against you day and night, let me assure you, is no easy task. And with the same assiduity the German cause is preached and served in neutral countries. There are three diff'erent ways open to a journalist in the Fatherland. The first way — and to some of the fraternity the simplest and easiest — is to throw all self-respect to the winds ; to learn to recite Lissauer's " Hymn of Hate," forwards, backwards and sideways ; to write daily eulogies on the land that holds the monopoly of 10 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL "Kultur"; in short, to become a German Press agent. The second procedure is to remain quietly in Berlin and swallow (or at least pretend to) the periodical items of " news " that the G.G.S. and the F.O. ladle out to you, while at the same time you are gathering your own impressions and drawing your own conclusions. The third method is the most interesting but, of course, equally the most hazardous. Just take your pen — I almost said " gun " — ^ and prowl about the country and see what you can pot. Of course, wher- ever your covers look promising you will meet with the notice, that trespassers will be prosecuted; in other words, the sign : " Verboten," but never mind that. Those are the occasions when you do not understand German.^ The German is not an adventurer like the English- man, the American, the Dutchman. He is too cau- tious ; he must carefully figure out every motive, and then, when — theoretically — the project has become a certainty, he will strike. Their lives, their minds, are over-organised. Emdens, Mowes, Channel Raiders are rare birds in the German psychology. I chose the third method of working. It was not entirely a matter of choice, either. Since I could not, would not, produce convincing proofs of German ideas of neutrality — meaning, of course, pro- Germanism — and since I refused to give assurances — my word of honour — that I would remain in Germany 1 Except for those who follow the first method, it is absolutely essential to know the German language ; if the third method be the one you have chosen, you must be able to speak it fluently. I am drawing attention to this point, because I think that too much im- portance has been attached to impressions and opinions that have been brought out of Germany by people who were totally un- acquainted with the language. I believe that such a drawback at once disqualifies any one from passing an intelligent judgment on German affairs of to-day. THE VEIL AND THE METHODS 11 for the duration of the war, I received very little en- couragement from German officialdom in my journal- istic ambitions. Let me record here for the special edification of one or two doubting British Thomases (no connection with Thomas Atkins, I am relieved to say) who have ques- tioned my pro-British sympathies, that I never owned one single German pass or permit, neither from the General Staff nor from the Foreign Office, during the whole period of my German pilgrimage. Had it not been for my numerous letters of introduc- tion ^ my harvest might have been very scanty. My German hosts reckoned without a few items in my journalistic armoury — first, my letter of introduction to General von Hindenburg, from the General's own nephew ; second, a fair knowledge of the German character; third, my American journalistic training. As John Buchan, in that most delightful story of his — " Greenmantle " — says : " You cannot fool the Ger- mans, but you can bluff them." And bluff them I did to my heart's content, and that, I assure you, is saying a lot, because it was a greedy journalistic heart that came to Germany. The Hindenburg letter worked like a charm ; it proved a veritable golden key that un- locked almost every door, even that of General Staffs in the field. It acted like a magic carpet that trans- ported me from Lodsz to Lille ; from Wilhelmshaven to Kiel; from Hamburg to Munich; in fine, from East to West and from North to South. It was a pass on military trains ; it procured me " express " motor-cars in places where it was " Strengstens Verboten " for any civilian to show his nose ; it got me out of scrapes that even to-day make me feel hot and cold down my spine, and, finally, it seemed to open every German mouth 1 See Chapter II. 12 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL from Generals down to cooks. Nay, but for the very unfortunate accident which occurred in Fleet Street, the eflPect of which was reverberated in the Wilhelm- strasse, Berlin, it might even have procured me an in- vitation to the Palace of Unter den Linden or Potsdam. Though many moons have passed, I can still chuckle with delight at the various and devious ways I was able to bluff the people who are out to bluff the whole world. I can still see the incredulous face of Baron Mumm von Schwarzenstein, when I swaggered into his office one morning and casually mentioned that I had just been to see Hindenburg! It was impossible, he claimed, simply impossible ; it was " Verboten." He thought it was just a piece of " bluff." So it was, dear Baron, but not the sort of bluff you thought.^ And I can also still see Captain Cammerer's (one of Hindenburg's Staff officers ) flabbergasted -» — it's the only term that fits — expression, when hardly twelve hours after he had telephonically informed General Count von Schlieffen that it was " Verboten " for me to come to Hindenburg's Headquarters, I appeared before him, chaperoned by Hindenburg's personal A. D. C. ! By some curious coincidence an old New York col- league of mine, Cyril Brown, of the New York Times, had been bitten by the " Wanderlust," or should we call it " American Joumalitis," about the same time as I, only he followed a famous American's advice : " Go West, young man, go West." Brown actually got inside the Crown Prince's Head- 1 All the same, that very night a police official by the name of Herr Mercier — a namesake of the famous Cardinal — called upon me, and invited me to accompany him to the Alexanderplatz (Berlin Scotland Yard). There I had to make a full statement of how and when and why I had reached Hindenburg's head- quarters, etc., etc. Let us hope that it did not get the General into trouble! THE VEIL AND THE METHODS 13 quarters and nearly " flagged " the Kaiser's car, with the intention of asking the War Lord for an interview. When on our return to Berlin Brown and I compared notes, we decided that our system was by far preferable to the regular, personally-conducted- journalistic-Cook- Tours-de-Luxe, by which our more " fortunate " col- leagues were regularly permitted to " see " Germany. It was American Journalism " as usual," and with a vengeance. If during mj'^ many and my very unofficial, even clan- destine peregrinations through the Fatherland, I un- earthed information, impressions and knowledge which they will claim is not of a journalistic nature, I disown every and any responsibility on that score, but blame entirely the German sj^stem of spoon-fed, make-believe, sugar-coated journalism. Besides, after a certain in- cident, which occurred within a month after m}^ arrival in Germany,^ I had an additional incentive. But, apart from all that, they had " nothing to hide ! " Well — noiLS verrons ce que nous verrons! 1 See Chapter III. CHAPTER II MY " POINT d'aPPUI " BOMB AT the outset I wish to express my most sincere thanks to His Excellency the American Ambas- sador in Rome, Mr. Thomas Nelson Page, to several members of his staff, and to His Excellency the very American Ambassador in Berlin, Judge Gerard. All I can say is that their assistance is as deeply appreciated as it has been welcome and valuable. Mr. Page, whom I have known for several years in America, and whom I interviewed on various occasions, furnished me with warm personal recommendations to the British Ambassador, Sir Rennell Rodd; to the German Envoy, Prince von Biilow, and to Baron Mac- chio, who was then Austrian Ambassador in Rome. When I presented my credentials to Judge Gerard in Berlin, he made me feel at home at once by inquiring after the health and welfare of " Bob," my faithful dog-friend of twelve years' standing. Judge Gerard, although not a personal acquaintance of mine, had known of my work in America, and he passed me on to various German officials. I feel almost tempted to include in this preamble of thanks Prince von Biilow, his able private secretary. Dr. Friederich, and Herr von Hindenburg, first secretary of the German Em- bassy in Rome at the time, for their many valuable letters of introduction to prominent German officials. But perhaps they would not appreciate it! I spent many an interesting, instructive and enter- taining hour at the Villa Malte — Prince Billow's Ro- 14 MY " POINT D'APPUI "— ROME 15 man residence; at the Palazzo Gaffarelli, the German Embassy, and in various other German haunts in Rome. Neutrality these days is frequently, like morality, very much a matter of geography. The saying, " When in Rome do as the Romans do," had in those pre-Italian war days lost its meaning. I must admit that I was often at a loss to know what the Romans themselves were doing. It goes without saying that frequently extremely delicate and difficult situations developed. I was sub- jected to many keen cross-examinations; many feelers were thrown out to ascertain on which side of the quarrel my sympathies really lay. But I maintained my neutrality. Often it was a case of out-diplomating the diplomats. I discoursed many a time on the three years I had spent in Germany as a student, saying how " un- vergesslich " (unforgettable) they were — which was quite true ; I praised their army as one of the great- est and most perfect organisations in the world. I made much of their music, etc. ; in fact I assiduously brought in all the subjects on which I could converse with a certain amount of admiration. I stood the preliminary test ! I had proved myself sufficiently neutral, and therefore I should be given all possible assistance to enable me to obtain in Germany material for — " Articles of the right sort ! " — as one of my letters of introduction described it. H'm! I thought, our ideas might differ somewhat on the defini- tion of the " right sort." German-like, they did things thoroughly. Every German I met offered to give me a letter. I had no illusion that this was because they were anxious to help me, but because they thought I could help them. After three weeks I left Rome with over thirty letters of in- troduction to many prominent Germans, almost from 16 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL the Kaiser downwards. It was more than hinted to me that through those letters I might even obtain an audience with the War Lord. Anyhow, the list was important and interesting, if only on account of its heterogeneous composition. First, there came several official introductions to the Foreign Office, to Herr von Jagow, to Herr Zimmer- man, to Baron Mumm von Schwarzenstein. Then there was a letter to Matthias Erzberger, leader of the Catholic Centrum Party in the Reichstag, chief of the International Press Bureau, and late German Press Agent (manipulator would be a better word) in Italy, and a man closely connected with the Kaiser. There were also letters to General von Hindenburg, von Below and von Beseler, all from personal relatives (of the generals; not mine, please). There was a letter to Herr Arthur von Gwinner, probably Germany's great- est financial genius, Director-Manager of the Deutsche Bank, and the man behind the Bagdad Railroad scheme. To Herr Krupp von Bohlen, and to one of his greatest technical experts, Herr Direktor Doktor Ehrens- berger ; ^ to the Secretary of the Colonies, Solf, and to his amusing firebrand A.D.C., Dr. Biicher ; to Count von Hertling, the Bavarian Minister of Foreign Af- fairs ; to the Governor of Strassburg, Baron von Stein ; to Dr. Walther Rathenau, Germany's raw-material genius ; to His Excellency the Lord Mayor of Berlin, Herr Wehrmuth; to Professor Francke, head of the Bureau of Social Economics ; to Dr. Michaelis, Dr. Zimmerman and Dr. Mantler, chief editors respectively of the Berliner Tagehlatt, the Berliner LoJcal Anzeiger, 1 It is interesting to note that this specialist accompanied Herr Krupp on his sight-seeing trip through English shipyards and war-material factories about six weeks before the outbreak of war. 3 t -s-t H J "S "S s ? ? gt*- "^ MY « POINT D'APPUI "— ROME 17 and the notorious " Wolff News Agency " ; to General Baron von Nagel, chief of the Bavarian General Staff; to Major Deutelmoser, chief of the Press Bureau of the General Staff; to Capitan-Leutnant Lohlein, of the " Marineamt " ; and to a number of lesser lights at the Admiralty, the War Office and the General Staff. Quite a respectable list, I should think, to serve as a working basis for an ambitious journalist thirsting for knowledge! I should like to state that the majority of inter- views and opinions I have quoted in the following pages represent the ideas of Germans who were in close touch with actual conditions, with the " powers that be," and, several of them, even with the Emperor himself. I am of the opinion that most of the ideas they ex- pressed they honestly believed to be true, however ab- surd this may seem from our point of view. Finally, I must reluctantly admit that several of the predictions that were made to me have come true. Amongst these are the repulse of the Russian armies, the unsuccessful attempt to force the Dardanelles, the failure of the Bagdad advance, the forcing of the road to Constan- tinople, and several others. On the other hand, many of them proved wrong, such as the capture of Calais, the separate peace with Russia (to be preceded by a revolution); that England would never submit to con- scription ; that Italy could and would be bought off. Amongst those that are still on the knees of the gods (and also, let us hope, at the point of British bayonets) are the prophecies that : " The Allies will never drive the Germans out of Belgium ; that the Russians will never drive the Germans back over the Vistula, and that the Turks will henceforth remain inseparably connected with Germany and Austria." Already in 1915 many well-informed Germans admit- 18 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL ted to me that Germany could not win, but they main- tained that, on the other hand, she would not lose either, except of course such losses as naturally fall to the lot of all nations engaged in a war of such mag- nitude. Among the sayings most frequently and con- fidently quoted were the Chancellor's words: " Germany cannot be destroyed." CHAPTER III " THE ADDER " "If you see an adder, and you know it is an adder, leave it alone, unless you're certain you can kill it." — (My Nurse.) I HAVE already stated that I entered Germany with as open a mind as possible, and in that spirit I commenced my mission. But, alas ! it is difficult, in some cases impossible — as in mine — to remain for long in Germany as a purely objective observer. One incident suddenly changed my whole attitude, my intentions, and the entire object of my mission. It made me forget almost completely that I was a neutral journalist. I only remembered that I was dealing with . . . adders. But let me record the incident that so affected my future line of action. One night, during my third week in Berlin, I met at the American Bar of the Adlon Hotel, where I was staying, a certain Baron Hochwachter. In my chap- ter on " Spies and Spying " I shall have something more to say about this " gentleman." He was a lieutenant in one of the crack Prussian Guard regiments. Until August 4th, 1914, he was would-be director of the Daimler Motor Works (of Stuttgart) in London. For the last ten years I have seen Hochwachter in various parts of the globe. I saw him regularly dur- ing the season at the best London hotels ; I have seen him driving in the Bois de Boulogne and found him at the Grand Hotel in Rome. I have seen him in almost every place on the Riviera that I ever spent a winter 19 20 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL in, and I have come across him on Fifth Avenue, New York. I always put him down as one of those amateur globe- trotters, the kind of man who lives solely to have a good time. I know better now. The topic — a favourite one at 2 a. m. — was Spies and Spying. Hochwachter was in very convivial spir- its, and . . . getting worse. " Bah ! " he sneered, " of all countries England is the easiest and, at the same time, the most pleasant in which to carry on ' military research work.' " (Note the scientific term for spying!) I thought it good policy to contradict him, and I got my rise. He lifted his champagne glass, winked at me with one sodden eye, and smilingly said : " Cherchez la femme ! Prosit. Here's to them." Then he proceeded to give details. Notwithstanding his condition, he gave us with diabolical cleverness a dissertation on English " Home and Family Life." He described how in England more than in any other coun- try, the wife has the confidence of her husband, and shares the secrets of his affairs, no matter whether they be legal, political, diplomatic, naval and military, or commercial. " Hah ! " he laughed ; " it's a matter of ' mobilising the ladies,' my friend, always the ladies." It amounted to this, that Englishwomen were often made the innocent dupes and accomplices of the Ger- man spy, who enters their homes as an honoured guest or friend. No, dear reader, I did not break the fellow's neck, I did not even knock him down, or call him a damned blackguard and cur. But I did better than all three. "THE ADDER" 21 Then and there I took a solemn, silent oath. There, in front of the bar at the Adlon Hotel, Berlin, I swore that I would avenge English womanhood, English " Home and Family Life," if it took me a lifetime to do it. I vowed that before I was through with Ger- many — never with the Germans — come what may, I should know a bit more about their despicable, low, dastardly system of espionage. I constituted myself an unofficial investigator of the whole rotten German fabric of spying and lying. But since there is hardly any German sphere which is not permeated with the espionage canker ; since there is hardly any German class that is not doing its share in spying, in one form or another, I naturally found out many interesting and valuable details, which, as a foreign journalist, I had no business to know. But the responsibilit}^ of that rests with the Germans and the German system. Oh, I know that I ran many risks, and my task was often unpleasant ; but whenever I weakened in my resolution, or felt certain qualms about some of the things I had to say or do, I merely recalled: " Mobilisation of the Ladies," for " Deutsch- land iiber Alles," and that never failed to give me strength, courage and determination. " Well, nurse, I did not leave it alone, neither did I kill it, but I learned the dickens of a lot about adders." CHAPTER IV GERMAN MIND AND CHARACTER I HAVE followed with a great deal of interest the various phases of the alien enemy question in this country. Your perfect confidence in gratitude, one of the greatest, if not the greatest, of human qualities, seems to me little short of marvellous. The French have a saying : " Tout comprendre c'est tout par- donner " ; but they soon found out that that was a peace-time motto, not very practical in war-time. They have changed it now (in so far as it applies to Germans) into: "To understand all is to intern all." But, then, of course the French know a bit more about the Germans than you do. I have no intention of setting up as a psychological or philosophical expert, but I will endeavour to sketch for your benefit a few of the main traits of the German character, upbringing, teaching, and of ideas of " play- ing the game." I will not enter here into the " whys " and the " wherefores," but it is a sad, though true, fact that the majority of people in this country are hopelessly ill-informed about Germany. The Kaiser is to-day the most popular idol in Ger- many, not even excepting Hindenburg. The confidence, the trust in him, is so general, so deep and so intense, that if Germany should from now on be steadily pushed back ; if she were to lose every battle and be beaten to her knees, it would increase rather than weaken his 22 GERMAN MIND AND CHARACTER 23 popularity and the love his subjects have for him. It takes more than books on Germany, more than the vivid stories of war correspondents and " expert " articles by " famous " strategists, to make you under- stand the fanatical spirit of patriotism by which the German mind is imbued and obsessed. It is as un- fathomable as the spirit of religion. From the moment that it is properly kindled, it is the most intense, the most sincere emotion they possess. According to their creed it is not necessary to live, but the first duty of all is to be ready to lay down your life for the Fatherland. Nothing matters ; only the Fatherland counts. You may murder, steal, spy, cheat — it does not matter if it is for the Fatherland, The end sanctifies all means. I have talked, since the war, to hundreds of Germans of all classes, from the highest to the lowest, and one feeling is common to them all, viz. : Confidence, abso- lute confidence and trust in their leaders. Every one feels a certain responsibility, feels that he would en- danger the interests of the Fatherland by not doing his bit, the particular work he has been assigned to carry out, whatever that may be. While I was with the Belgian army I read a letter found on a dead German private, written by his mother. The concluding sen- tence was : " But we must not complain. The Father- land has called, and we must give our all and our best ungrudgingly, and God will give us solace and strength to bear whatever the costs, whatever the sorrows may be. Be brave, my son, and God bless you ! " That spirit of patriotism and of confidence is a mighty factor to reckon with, and should not be over- looked. This brings me to the question of the German at large in this country. With a few exceptions, as, for instance, those cases in which well-known Britishers, of U BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL good standing, would go bail without reserve for the particular individuals in question, I should say, from personal knowledge of the German character, intern or repatriate them all. Pass an Act of Parliament can- celling all naturalisations from a certain date, if neces- sary ; but, whatever you decide, show the Germans that you are master in your own house. It seems a tall statement to make, but it is, nevertheless, a fact that several high-placed Germans have told me that the Brit- ish Government would not dare to interfere with certain Germans (naturalised or otherwise) in this country, because they know so much that they could upset the whole political apple-cart. I will concede that internment or repatriation would be hard, very hard on many of them ; but is it not better to be hard, even unjust, to the enemy than to risk your own countrymen and women .? Is it not better to intern ninety-nine innocent Germans and thereby make certain of the hundredth, who is guilty.? But even about that injustice you need not feel many qualms. I have always maintained, and I do so now after several months spent in Germany, that every German is a po- tential spy. It is not in his character, it is his charac- ter. It lies in the Nietzschian doctrines in which he has been sedulously trained from early childhood. " Win, win, win ! " " Work for the Fatherland al- ways 1 " " Win, no matter by what means, but win ! " *' It is your duty ! " Naturalisation is only a means to an end. The terms " Play the game," or " Play fair," at least as we understand them, are foreign to him. Everything is fair play to him, in peace as well as in war, as long as it means the good of the Fatherland. That is the creed, the spirit which enables Germany to flood every country in peace-time with an army of spies. Her espionage system is a national institution. GERMAN MIND AND CHARACTER 25 It is based upon the national character and the national creed. So when a German is not serving his country, not doing his duty — i.e., while at large in an enemy coun- try, not tr3'ing to spy or in other ways working for the Fatherland — do not flatter yourself that it is from a sense of loyalty or of gratitude towards his adopted country, or from his ethical sense of duty as between host and guest. A thousand times no. It is for two reasons only that he will neglect his creed, his duty to the Fatherland: 1. Lack of opportunity; 2. Lack of leadership, with its consequent fear for his own skin. Some wag once said that lack of opportunity was responsible for a great deal of virtue. Substitute " loyalty " for " virtue," and you have the German case. Nothing but lack of opportunity is responsible for this so-called " loyalty " to England. Let us examine the second reason, viz., personal cowardice. Courage, bravery — in the British sense of the word — is rare, exceedingly rare, in the German. Fanaticism is far from being courage. The German quality is of a very diff^erent brand — it is " mass courage " ; perhaps " plural courage " would be a bet- ter term. Isolate a German, meet him alone, discon- nect him from any intercourse with his fellow-country- men, and I think you will find him meek, quiet, gentle, sentimental ; in short, quite easy to manage, whether to lead or to drive. As I point out in another chap- ter, when he is alone he will sing sentimental love and slumber songs. But put two of them together, no matter where, whether at the North Pole, in Central China, in the Argentine, in free America, or in the heart of England, and there will be plotting and scheming. Two terminals of the German patriotic current meet and combustion follows. The Fatherland calls^ the 26 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL Fatherland comes first. The courage of two Germans is not merely the courage of the one plus the courage of the second; it is a multiplication sum rather than an addition. Deeds which he would have trembled to think of, let alone carry out, while he was a single indi- vidual, he will plan with his compatriot, and the fear of being considered by the other a false patriot, a bad German, will overcome a great deal of physical fear. Now he sings : " Deutschland, Deutschland uber Alles " ; or another great favourite : " I am a Prus- sian ; knowest thou my colours." (Pray God you never will!) Moral: Keep them sequestrated, keep them out of temptation's way, because, as sure as fate, they can, in Oscar Wilde's words, " resist everything but tempta- tion " when it comes to serving the Fatherland. You might just as well try to teach a wolf the in- stincts (mind you, I say " instincts," not manners or tricks) of a pet lamb, than expect by mere surround- ings, precept, or example, to imbue a German with the principles and instincts of English life and character. Not even your famous Dr. Johnson's remark about Scotchmen, with whom — so he says — you can do a lot " If caught young," applies here. No truer line was ever written or spoken than: " Once a German, always a German." CHAPTER V GERMAN PSYCHOLOGY A GERMAN'S conception of psychology is based too much on the obvious — i.e., what thei/ con- sider obvious. Their everlasting rules and regulations, their " Verboten " at every turn, combined with that respect for the law, and love of authority which is bred in the bone of every good Prussian, have made certain grooves in the Hun brain, certain parallel lines of thought, which, once you have traced them, are easy to follow. The wonderful German system is only perfect and wonderful because it is used and practised by, and created for, Germans. Its value is, I think, greatly over-rated. If the notice " Verboten " appears on any door, passage, lawn, railway train, church, or anything else, then in nine hundred and ninety-nine cases out of a thousand it is unnecessary to take any further safe- guards. Why.!^ Because the German Government, the German authorities, have as much confidence in popular respect for the law as the people have in the authorities being justified in making these restrictions. Not once, but a hundred times, have I been able to test this mental attitude. A good, law-abiding, re- spectable German citizen will not dream of passing through that door, gate, field, or step into that railroad train. " Yes, sir," I have been told dozens of times by Germans, " we admit that the authorities think for us, but they have always thought for the best. All this talk about the iron fist is nonsense. You foreigners 27 28 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL notice only the regularity, the number of restrictions placed on our daily life. We Germans are brought up with them, and, what is most important, we believe in them. Our government is a government of experts. In every department we have only the best, the highest experts that can be got, and neither money nor position can save the man if he is inefficient. Confidence, my dear sir, is the great secret of German success." I then asked him: " And what would the people think of their leaders if the end of this war should bring disaster to Germany, should prove her partial destruction ? What would the people do.'' Would they not come to the conclusion that they had been misled, deceived by their govern- ment, their leaders, their newspapers ? " His answer was classic, indeed, typical of the Ger- man, I should say, of the Prussian mind, the Prussian creed, the Prussian faith: " Ah, I know what you are thinking of, the question so prominently discussed in the enemy press, of a revo- lution in Germany. How little they know the German mind! Let me illustrate my answer by taking a hypo- thetical case. You are a sportsman — a fencer, I take it. Suppose you have a friend living somewhere in the country who is a crack shot, a great sportsman. He is very popular amongst his friends. One night several rufiians sneak up to his house, to rob it, and steal his hard-earned belongings. Your friend goes out and shoots several of his attackers, but, instead of diminishing, their number grows and grows. He is surrounded on all sides and finally beaten to his knees. Mind you, it is not a fight of man to man, but of many — sey, ten against one. Would you lose confidence in his prowess as an expert shot.? Would you not still readily choose him to represent you, your club, your ^ttgcmeinc QBcf)r|)ftirf)t in Snglonb ■/ I Conscription in England John Bull It'drniitf/ Die (Honxc Steji GERMAN PSYCHOLOGY 29 regiment at the sporting competitions? Would you turn him out because he was beaten when surrounded and attacked on all sides? That is Germany's case. Do you think the people are going to blame the govern- ment if we should be unable to conquer England, France, Russia, Italy, Serbia, Montenegro, Japan, Belgium, Portugal, Rumania? No, sir! The people know; they are absolutely convinced that our enemies forced us to fight, and nothing, no matter what may be the outcome of this terrible struggle, can change that con- viction. Ask any man, from the highest to the lowest, ask any woman, be she duchess or charwoman, ask any child at school, all and sundry will tell you that we are only fighting because we had to, to protect hearth and home. And a united nation, sir, cannot be destroyed ! " My inforaiant was not trying to throw sand in my eyes ; he was not one of the bombastic, overbearing type of German. He spoke carefully and slowly, and I know that he meant every word he said. Such is the Prussian creed of to-day. The moment the wheel of fortune goes against Ger- many (not economically, but strategeticall}', i.e., on the field of battle), the Government will cry "Enough," and it will say to the German people : " We have done all we could, and no man can do more" And the Ger- man people will answer, Yea and Amen, and will whis- per: " Es muss sein " (" It has to be "). But I have wandered far from the " Verboten " sign and the convolutions of a German's brain. If any one is seen on the other side of that door, in that field, or on that train — why, it never occurs to any ofiicial that he is a trespasser, that he has ignored the command, broken the law. " What good German would do that ! " " Of course," so he argues, " that 30 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL man must have excellent authority to be where he is, otherwise he would not be there." I wonder if you realise of what inestimable advantage it is to a journalist to know that side of the German mind? I have made use of that knowledge in the three months that I spent in Germany again and again, and it has never failed me. I have been to Kiel, I have walked along the shores of Kiel Bay. I have travelled down the Elbe, have talked to the Canal officials. I travelled from Berlin to the German Eastern Head- quarters to see Hindenburg, yet I never owned a single pass or permit, or any other authorisation to enter the lines of communication. IBeing where I was, they were taken for granted. I have travelled on military trains, I have passed scores of sentries and guards with loaded rifles. I took photographs in all parts of Germany. I was challenged once by General Count von Schlief- fen in AUenstein, who, after he found that I had no per- mit, sent me back to Berlin — i.e., he told me to go back. He did not think it necessary to see that I went. It was " Verboten " to go on ; therefore, to his German mind, that was synonymous with going back. I did no such thing, but travelled in exactly the opposite direction ! I should like to see the journalist, no matter whether English, French, or neutral, trying that little game in the British or French lines ! Oh ! la ! la ! I could tell many sad tales on that score, several from personal experience. I remember one melancholy occasion when I tried to get into Ypres without the usual batch of Belgian, Brit- ish and French permits. I did not get within ten miles of it, and I vowed after that experiment : " Never again ! " CHAPTER VI THE PRESS IN GERMANY INTRODUCTION "This war might have been prevented if Germany, instead of gagging our Press, had allowed it to become the organ of sound public opinion, edited, as in all other modern states, by competent and educated men." — Herr Crass, Krupp's Representative in Berlin, in an interview. I CANNOT do better by way of introduction to my article on German Press matters, than to quote here a story which was frequently related to me in Ger- many as a joke on German Press enterprise. I must explain first that in international journalistic circles it is no secret that the main impedimenta of a German editor are a pair of scissors and a pot of paste. The story told here goes a long way to prove it. A sub-editor, who had only recently been put in charge of the editorial department of one of the larger Berlin dailies, was reading up some of the old 1870-71 war despatches, probably to glean how to write a real- istic battle-scene. It was during the fighting near Soissons. The young editor goes out to lunch and leaves one of the old clippings on his desk. Soon after the printer's foreman goes into the editorial offices and finds this cutting. " It's awful," he exclaims, " how careless these young editors are nowadays. Here is a first-rate story, and he calmly goes out to lunch and lets it wait till after dinner." Whereupon the man sets to work, writes the headlines, edits it, and makes it fit for the press. Half 31 82 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL an hour later Berlin gasps at the latest war news, which announces : " The Battle of Metz. In the battles already re- ferred to near Metz and the Vosges, the French lost in prisoners alone 173,000 men and 4,000 officers, in- cluding three Field-Marshals, one of them being Field- Marshal Bazaine." Now we know from where those wonderful German figures of enemy losses emanate. The Press The first thing you do after your arrival in Berlin is to ask your Ambassador for an introduction to His Excellency Baron Mumm von Schwarzenstein, of the Foreign Office; the second is to present that introduc- tion, together with your passports, letters, and every possible recommendation you can scrape together. The German, especially the German official, loves pomp and circumstance, and the more big names you can trump up the deeper he bows to you. Baron Mumm, suave in manner and speaking English perfectly, reminds one very much of Lord Haldane. He examines your credentials and then asks what he can do for you. You state your case, and, if you are lucky, some of the privileges you have asked for will come your way in, say, three or four months' time — i.e., the period it takes to " graduate." Somebody I know very well followed a different pro- cedure. In answer to Baron Mumm's question of what he could do for him, this young man boldly answered: " Your Excellency, I have come here to offer to do something for you — for Germany. Your papers have been complaining about the false reports with regard to the Germans and Germany, circulating in the Euro- pean and American Press. I have the honour to pre- THE PRESS IN GERMANY 33 sent myself to you as the special ambassador, jour- nalistically speaking of course, of the Kingdom of Truth." It was, indeed, a novel way of asking for privileges, and it actually tickled that very elusive thing — the sense of humour of a German official ; nevertheless, our young friend had to wait his appointed place in the queue, till he took the law into his own hands. As I said, you must " graduate." The course varies from two to four months, unless you become a sub- scriber to the " Bribery Association (Unlimited)," with headquarters at the Hotel Adlon.^ During that time you have to prove beyond any doubt on which side of the fence you are. Perhaps you are American or Dutch; therefore "neutral"? Ah, no, my friend ; " das gibts nicht." As the farmer said when he saw a giraffe for the first time : " There is no such animal." Neutral, indeed ! No, sir ; " who is not with us is against us." (Let me state at once that I did not graduate.) In order to graduate you must have trained yourself until you have reached a degree of perfection in the art of " strafing." It is not sufficient to be able to mutter parrot-like : " Gott strafe England," or to recite Lissauer's H^^mn of Hate forwards and backw^ards. No, at all times of the day and night you must be ready to answer the greeting (now de rigueur in Germany) : "Gott strafe England," with an immediate: " Er strafe es " ("May He punish it"). In the morning when you get up, before you begin to think of bath or breakfast, you say to whoever may be with you: " Gott strafe England ! " If you happen to be alone, you can shout it down the telephone, and you will promptly receive the reply, made with great ferocity 1 See Chapter VIII. 34 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL or sweetness, as the case may be, but always with en- thusiasm : " Er strafe es ! " From all one hears and reads these days, one would gain the impression that Germany is a very paradise for neutral journalists. " You can go anywhere you like, and see all you want to see in Germany," so I was told in neutral countries. We have been reading for months past of the inter- esting and exclusive material German and neutral journalists are obtaining in the Vaterland: Prominent interviews; graphic battle stories; little pleasure jaunts on big war-ships in the North Sea, etc., etc. How are all these " newsbeats " obtained, and what is at the bottom of these skilful journalistic enter- prises? Let me say at once that it took very little journalistic enterprise or effort to obtain most of the interviews and other important stories emanating from German quarters. I can best illustrate my point by quoting a conversa- tion which I had one evening at the Hotel Adlon in Berlin, with Professor Stein, associate editor of the Vossische Zeitung. It took place during the early part of my visit to Germany. I was trying to sound the Professor about any possible prospective victims to be interviewed. I referred to the prolific harvest Ameri- can journalists had reaped since the beginning of the war, and expressed the hope that there might still be some virgin ground left for me to till. Here is the Professor's answer, which I quote almost verbatim: " The interviews with the Crown Prince, the Crown Princess, Admiral von Tirpitz, von Moltke, the German Chancellor, General von Bernhardi, and many others, were merely political moves on the great chess-board of war. They were, every one of them, carefully thought and mapped out beforehand, and in most cases THE PRESS IN GERMANY 35 the finished article, translated and typewritten, was handed over to the ' interviewer ' — i.e., to the man who represented those papers which would give the ' inter- view ' the greatest publicity. Needless to say, that he must practically guarantee beforehand that it would be printed without alterations or corrections of any kind whatever. I myself arranged the interview with Gen- eral von Moltke. The American journalist received his interview, written out, ready for mail or cable. Now I believe that you will meet with great difficulties, not to say insurmountable obstacles, if you think that you will be able to interview important people in Ameri- can style. When in Berlin you have to do as the Germans do. In other words, to accept their written statements, and promise to use them in their original form. If you are willing to accept those conditions, I shall be glad to help you in every way. Other inter- views will be distributed now and again when considered timely and judicious. In Germany we do not under- stand, and, to be honest, do not like the aggressive, independent methods American journalists employ to gain their ends. Their system may be all right in America, but you'll find that it does not work here." So far the Professor. Among the many incidents which came to my notice, illustrating " how Germany makes interviews," one was related to me by Mr. Gaffney (an Irishman, by the way), at the time American Consul-General in Munich. During January, 1915, when the arrest of Cardinal Mercier was very much en evidence, an interview was arranged with the Archbishop of INIunich. The Ameri- can reporter who was sent from Berlin to Munich did not speak a word of German, and the Archbishop felt the same about English. But what matter! The in- 36 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL terview was typewritten and ready before the reporter arrived in Munich. An interesting detail about this bit of journalism was that to guard against "mis- takes " and doctoring, a copy of the original interview was kept in the archives of the American Consulate at Munich. Whether the duties of Consuls include the supervision of " interviews made in Germany " it is not for me to say; but I do know that Mr. GafFney took more than a " neutral " interest in German journal- ism. He bitterly complained that most of the London correspondents of American papers were English- men! " This system of granting interviews," explained Baron Mumm, " has many advantages. Above all, it excludes the danger of those journalistic pitfalls — misquotations. If Lord Kitchener had followed the German system with Mr. Cobb, the American journalist, much trouble and unpleasantness might have been saved to both." It appears that early in the war one or two over- enterprising American reporters had the disagreeable habit of asking officials embarrassing, nay, often im- pertinent questions, which were awkward to answer, and would have caused still more embarrassment if left unanswered. With the usual German eye for system a cure was quickly found. Independent journalists, educated in the American school, have little chance of bagging big game in Ger- many. Well, qui vivra, verra. Here is a dictum which a fellow-journalist supplied me with in Berlin, the adoption of which would provide me with a short cut to journalistic success: ^^ Write your articles so that every one is suitable for THE PRESS IN GERMANY 37 reprint in pamphlet form by the German Government, for the purpose of distribution abroad." I may add that I declined the honour. Knowing that it would be waste of time to write articles for foreign consumption giving my real impressions, I simply re- frained from writing any at all, and contented myself with making notes. My personal experiences of the " made-in-Germany " variety of interviews are limited to two, viz., with the Secretary for the late German Colonies, Dr. Solf, and with the notorious Herr Erzberger, Germany's Inter- national Press agent, and member of the Reichstag. But in the latter case I obtained an audience and inter- view later on, which was not of the German brand. When you present your credentials at the General Staff (Presse Abteilung — i.e.. Press Department), the first thing you are told is : " We have nothing to hide. All we ask of you is that you write the truth." Solemnly you mumble : " The truth, the w hole truth, and nothing but the truth." But wait. The truth.? Yes, but you must look at it through spectacles " made in Germany." The whole truth.? Ah, no; that's quite a different pair of shoes. To give an example. I was naturally most anxious to visit Belgium, and especially the Grand Duchy of Luxembourg, where I have relations. For a week or two I was put off with promises of " very soon," etc. Then followed excuses. The General Staff was hiding behind the Foreign Office, and vice versa. How many times have I travelled the road between 76, Wilhelm- strasse, and the Konigsplatz .? I do not know. All I can say is that the orderlies at the General Staff began to take me for an attache, for I was frequently left at large in the building without the usual chaperon of a soldier. 38 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL I was told that Luxembourg was on one of the most important lines of communication. That practically all the roads leading there were used exclusively for military transports, and that I would probably have a long and tedious journey of several days' duration, etc. I assured them that I did not in the least mind the dis- comforts of the trip. My protestations were, how- ever, of no avail. The most ludicrous of all the excuses was brought forward one afternoon by a captain from the War Office. (I say " afternoon " advisedly. I may add it was tea-time and he was drinking tea. ) " You see," he explained, " you would come on the lines of com- munication of the Crown Prince's army. It seems that in that region especially a great deal of American am- munition, which, by the way, is very much more effective than the French article, has been used by the French. Now don't you see that if it becomes known that you are writing for American papers you might arouse very strong antagonism? Of course, we here, and the offi- cers of the higher command, understand that America has a perfect legal (great emphasis !) right to supply ammunition to the Allies, but the common soldier does not see things that way. Suppose you meet some of those whose friends or relations have been killed by American bullets and American shells ? Such people do not think when their passions are aroused " {vide Bel- gium), " and thus harm might come to you. That, I believe, is one of the main reasons for not letting you go to Luxembourg." I knew better ! They did not want me to go because I knew too many people there. A few weeks later, when I saw the possibility of obtaining a pass was out of the question, I had my little revenge. At a certain rather large dinner party, one man, who THE PRESS IN GERMANY 39 knew of some of my Luxembourg connections, leaned across the table and said : " Now your friends, the Luxembourgers, were more sensible than those stupid, hot-headed Belgians. Look at all the money Luxem- bourg is making these days ! " I knew better than that, and, what's more, I knew that he did too. It put my back up, and although it was most undiplomatic, I could not resist giving him a piece of true information in exchange for his false one. " H'm, yes," I replied. " I suppose it was, as you say, ' sensible.' You see, our geographical position is somewhat unfortunate. We have no pass of Ther- mopylae." " Pass of Thermopylae? " everybody muttered, look- ing puzzled. I was asked to explain. " Oh, it's quite simple ! " I continued. " You see we, too, have an army one thousand strong, and we could also, I have no doubt, find a Leonidas amongst them ; but, as I have said — we lack the Pass." Tableau! A quick change of subject. The Press department of the General Staff keeps in close touch with the German newspapers. In a large hall of the Reichstag building the chiefs, always assisted by both military and naval officers, on leave from active service, meet the various editors, sub-editors and cor- respondents of most of the German newspapers. These assemblies take place three times a week, and their object is to bring the work of the Army and Navy in closest contact with the men that are largely respon- sible for public opinion. Apparently all the cards are laid on the table, but it is pointed out to the repre- sentatives of the Press that certain details are of a confidential nature, and would only serve the enemy if published. Needless to say, that only the most plausi- ^0 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEH. ble, the most tip-top fakers are employed at these tri- weekly meetings. Foreign correspondents are rigor- ously excluded from these family gatherings, but I man- aged to borrow the pass of one of the correspondents of a provincial Bavarian paper, and attended one meet- ing incognito. I will admit quite frankl}'' that I was on pins and needles at first, but by keeping discreetly in the background I remained undiscovered. I think about two hundred pressmen must have been present. It was one of the first meetings after the Doggerbank battle, in which the Bliicher was sunk. I am not sur- prised that the German papers made so much of the sinking of the Tiger. The wonderful, clear, " frank " and plausible way in which a naval officer, present at the battle described it was really extraordinary. He himself had seen the Tiger go down. He gave a most lucid and apparently convincing description of the battle. With sketches, diagrams and photographs he illustrated the progress of the fight, and he made much of the circumstance that it was Admiral Beatty who broke off the engagement. Need- less to say, he did not mention that their ships, when in retreat, had sown mines indiscriminately in their wake. Neither did he mention that the Lion and the Tiger were far ahead of the squadron. He made much of the question of armament ; he showed that the Seyd- litz and the Moltke carried only ten 28 cm. (11 inch) guns each, while the Derfflinger was armed with eight 30 cm. (12 inch) guns. Opposed to them they had three battle cruisers, each armed with eight 34 cm. (1314 inch) guns, and two battle cruisers armed with eight 30 cm. (12 inch) guns. I can still see him writing down the figures on the big black-board in the following order : THE PRESS IN GERMANY 41 Wir (we). 20 St.i 28 cm.2 8 St. 30 cm. 28 58 Engldnder. 24 St. 34 cm. 16 St. 30 cm. 40 64 Thus he impressed on his audience by a simple sum in arithmetic the wonderful performance of the German gunners in not only holding their own against such numerical superiority, but even having succeeded in sinking a ship of the Tiger class. This proved conclu- sively that in a sea fight no more than in a land battle mere numbers are decisive. What about the Blilcher? Oh, the poor old Blucher did not count ; she carried guns of but 21 cm. (about 8 inch), and her speed was barely twenty-four knots. Nevertheless, she gave a splendid account of herself, and in her last moments took two enemy destroyers with her to the bottom.^ He also explained that they were not on a raiding expedi- tion, but merely on their usual round of patrolling the North Sea. As to the sinking of the Tiger, they had the sworn evidence of the various officers of the Moltke, Derfflinger and Seydlitz, and of the commander and personnel of the Zeppelin that took part in the battle. I came away from that meeting with my brain all 1 St. = Stiick = Piece = Guns. 2 Cm. := Centimetre := Approx. ^-inch. 3 No British destroyers were sunk in the Doggerbank Battle. 4,2 BEHIND THE GERIVIAN VEIL awhirl. I did not know what to think. If that naval officer, with his diagrams, sketches, photographs, etc., was lying — well, I'm hanged if I would ever believe any German statement again, even if given on oath, or m extremis. Such duplicity seemed impossible. Now if that meeting had such an effect upon me, what would be the state of mind of a German newspaper man.? Why, ninety-nine out of every hundred, if not the whole hundred, come away from those meetings time after time, solidly convinced that the General Staff has told them all there is to tell ; in fact, they begin to feel that they are semi-official members of the great brain of the German war machine. In that spirit they sit down and write their leading articles, and the German reader gets the benefit of it. In his well-ordered mind he is satis- fied that the authorities are, in very truth, telling him all that can safely be made known without prejudice to the interests of the Fatherland. The authorities are fully aware of his state of mind. Of course, in many instances German readers do get the truth ; but what of the saying : " Half a truth is worse than a lie " .? I had a long and very pleasant talk one evening, during the latter part of March, with General Count von Schlieffen, Commander of the 20th Army Corps, at his headquarters in Allenstein. We were talking about journalism, comparing German and American methods. " Wherein lies the main difference? " the General asked me ; adding : " I can see how great it is, but I am unable exactly to define it." I had gone to Allenstein without the knowledge of the General Staff in Berlin, without any pass and without permission, so I thought I could make the point clear to my host by demonstration : THE PRESS IN GERMANY 43 " One great difference lies in the manner of collecting the news," I said. "A German journalist 'thinks' that he writes what he sees ; but, in reality, he only writes what the authorities want him to see. An American journalist writes as he sees things. Again, a German journalist will wait till he is invited to come and investigate, while an American will go first, and be invited, perhaps, later. You see," I added, smiling, " if I had been schooled in the German system I would not have the pleasure of this evening with you, but I would be sitting in Berlin waiting for another month or two for my passes." " Yes," he quickly retorted, " and I would not have the painful duty of sending you back at once to Berlin." The dear old General did send me back — i.e.^ he told me to go back, but he must have found out by now another little difference between the German and Amer- ican systems ! To show the world whom Germany is fighting the following list has been drawn up : Montenegrins Gonds Rajputs Russians Senegalese Sikhs Servians Belgians Australians Turcomans Fijis Kyberi Annamites Welshmen Tartars English Zulus Usbegs French Canadians Kalmucks Scotch Irish Kerghis Japanese Portuguese Baluchi Cossacks Italians Burmese Rumanians Basutos Yakuts Together with the above list is usually sent out a 44 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL poster entitled, " Brothers of Culture in our Prison Camps." During Casement's activities in Berlin, the Press De- partment (Erzberger) distributed weekly diatribes written by Casement and his fellow-renegade Stanhope, to American correspondents. CHAPTER VII BERLIN IMPRESSIONS UNLESS you are a deep-dyed Anglo maniac, one who has become used to the " tyrannies of the British Navy," and other English ways of doing things, to venture into Germany these days is tempting Provi- dence. You run grave peril of having your immortal soul, your heart and your mind converted to German ideas of Militarism and " Kultur." I have seen the effect of the German atmosphere on several of my colleagues within less than two weeks. It takes a strong-minded pro-Ally to stand up against a continuous procession of " documentary proofs," of "who started the war?" of arguments, lectures, speeches and literature. Weeks and days and hours, permeated with the " Gott mit uns, wir mussen siegen " spirit and conversation! What I have not heard about the misdeeds, committed for the last three hundred years, of " that little Robber's Island, off the Coast of Europe, populated by a nation of pedlars, whose only code of honour is the £ s. d. sign," would be enough to cause any one to blush for ever having been associated with such a place and such a nation; nay, it would even make a perfectly good Englishman swear eternal vengeance at the absent- minded stork that dropped him on the wrong side of the Channel. At the office of the American Consul-General in Munich, on the first day of my arrival in Germany, I met an Englishwoman, a Miss Welch, a teacher of English in some of the schools. Now, I thought, she 45 46 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL will no doubt be able to give me some very useful facts ; she will tell me where to look for the weak spots in this great German machine. So when she left I accom- panied her, and the moment we were alone I said: " Now, Miss Welch, you can talk quite frankly to me. Tell me something about the real conditions here." She stared at me with undisguised surprise. " Why," she exclaimed, " what do you mean ? Things are ex- actly as you see them. I am sure Germany is going to win ; nobody can beat this nation. I have nothing to complain of. I must report myself twice a day to the police, but otherwise I go on the same as before the war. I have no trouble at all, and the people are in no way unkind to me. Do you know," she added, with admiration and respect in her voice, " that in all these months I have never seen a drunken soldier in the streets or anywhere else ? " I do not believe that there is one foreign consul in a hundred in Germany to-day who is not absolutely, frankly and openly pro-German. " People don't know what this country is, what it can do," said the Ameri- can Consul-General in Munich, Mr. St. John GafFney, to me. " Germany cannot be destroyed because it is the most perfectly ruled country in the world, and the people are absolutely united." Professor FuUerton, an American Exchange Pro- fessor of Pennsylvania University, whom I met in Munich was strongly pro-German. In the most sin- cere, the most convincing manner, he assured me: " The Germans are a peace-loving people. There is no element in America's population that is more orderly, industrious and law-abiding than the German element. The German at home has the same characteristics. The land is an orderly land, and the population is enlightened, disciplined and educated to respect the BERLIN IMPRESSIONS 4>7 law. The rights of even the humblest are jealously guarded. The courts are just. The success of the Germans is obtained as the result of careful prepara- tion and unremitting industry. No one who lives among them, and learns to know them, can feel that he has to do with an aggressive and predatory people." Similar eulogies were launched at me day after day by educated neutral people. When even foreigners feel so strongly about Germany, it seems to me that the chances of a revolution against the present regime are very remote, not to say non-existent. The whole nation is so bound up with the one institu- tion for which they work and live and breathe — the Army — whatever sacrifices, whatever changes are de- manded they will be carried out as naturally and as systematically as the changing of a gear in a motor- car. I almost feel inclined to say that war is a natural state to them, peace merely a holiday. There are few Germans, I believe, who do not look upon the call to arms as a natural occurrence that may come any day. I forget who it was that said or wrote : " The Army is not for Germany, Germany is for the Army." That hits the nail on the head. One sees the proof of it to-day. Confidence in the strength of their army and its leaders is absolute, and their reverence for the Kaiser is nothing less than fanatical. I was present at a reception the Kaiser got on his return to Berlin from a visit to the Eastern front. I was near the Fried- richstrasse Station. Never, except perhaps at Ameri- can baseball and football matches, have I seen such absolutely frenzied crowds as I found that morning. The cheering seemed to make the very buildings shake. From house to house, from mouth to mouth, rang the " Hochs ! " Men threw their hats up in the air, waved 48 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL their sticks or umbrellas ; women fluttered their hand- kerchiefs, and many of them, who had babies, held them up that thej, too, might get a glimpse of their Sover- eign. Every seat at the windows and on the roofs was occupied. The Kaiser, dressed in the simple grey field uniform, with the black and white ribbon of the Iron Cross in one of his buttonholes, entered his motor-car with a quick elastic step, at the same time bowing to left and right. His helmet, like that of every soldier and oflScer, was covered with the grey material which has become the fashionable colour in Germany. As I have already tried to describe in previous chap- ters, the German, more especially the Prussian, is a hard psychological nut to crack. When you are alone with him, he is by no means aggressive; in fact, it is rather the other way about ; he seems simple and truth- ful, as far as his knowledge of truth goes. But lo! the moment he forms part of an organisation, however small, be it only a gathering of four or five compatriots, his whole demeanour, his entire character changes. Then it is : " Deutschland, Deutschland iiber Alles ! " Collectively they are all, men, women and children, certain of victory. Individually, especially amongst the educated classes, if you have convinced them that what our American friends call " hot air " is unac- ceptable currency, the German will admit that every- thing has not gone according to plan and programme ; that perhaps the landing of a few army corps in Eng- land might, owing to unforeseen difficulties, have to be temporarily postponed ; and that the Berlin police force, which was to have been sent to France to " arrest the British Army," might find the job a little too big for them. " But," so he will invariably add, no doubt for his own encouragement as much as anything else, " they 55 -i BERLIN IMPRESSIONS 49 can never throw us out of Belgium and Poland." And, as an afterthought: "England? With the swift de- velopment of air-craft that country is becoming less and less an island." The Russian danger is considered to be a thing of the past. According to some English writers on military subjects, Germany was more afraid of her Eastern than her Western front. That is a very erroneous impres- sion. If the exact figures are ever known, it will be proved that Germany had a great many less troops on the Eastern front than is generally supposed. I hap- pen to know that, in order to mislead the Allies, small units of this or that army corps were sent to the East to convey the impression that the whole of the corps in question had been moved, while in reality the greater part remained in the West. Hindenburg is, of course, the most popular German hero of the day. He is hailed as East Prussia's, and now Germany's, deliverer. Confidence in him, and in his ability and genius to cope fully with the Russians is absolutely unshakable and supreme. Already last year it was believed in Germany that there was no longer any danger of a real Russian offensive. One of the greatest disappointments the Germans have suffered, next to the failure to take Paris, is that the Russians have held out instead of making a separate peace. Amongst the best-informed circles in Berlin, it was confidently expected that Russia would give in before the end of 1915. " And then full steam ahead to the West," was sig- nificantly added. All eyes have been centred on the West ever since the Battle of the Marn?. The Ger- mans know that it is there the decision of this great struggle will be reached. " The hated English must 50 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL be kept in check at all costs," is what you hear daily. There is not a higher officer who, if he is honest — and I met several who were — will not admit that Ger- many has greatly under-rated the strength and effi- ciency of the British Army. But invariably they add that they have over-rated the strength of the Brit- ish Navy. CHAPTER VIII BERLIN IMPRESSIONS ( CONTINUED) THE quickest way to ingratiate yourself with Ger- mans these days is to tell hair-raising tales about conditions in London. If you have not been there since the war began (or perhaps at any other time, as was the case with several foreign journalists who had much to say on London affairs), so much the bet- ter, because then your flights of fancy will be untram- melled by mere considerations of facts. Tell them, for instance, about the airship panic ! " Zeppelins," you explain, " wh)', they have become a regular bogey in England ! Such scares as Dick Turpin, Lloyd George, the Black Prince, etc., are all out of date now. When children are getting too noisy, mother just says: ' Zepps ! ' and all is quiet. The very dogs in the streets, which, so you explain, are almost the only living things to be seen at night, at the mere noise of a motor-car engine, run howling to cover, with their tails between their legs." The halo of grim satisfaction which spreads over the German visage encourages you to stiU higher flights. " After nightfall," you continue, " only the most vitally important business can induce a Londoner to leave his cellar. You are surprised.'' Why, did you not know, then, that the people in London do not live in their houses any more.'' The excavation companies of England are the only ones that pay any dividends nowadays. London has reverted to prehistoric times ; it is a city of cave-dwellers." No German home is complete without a number of 51 52 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL caricatures of Britain. One of the most popular is called " Family Life in England." It represents a party of women, and about sixteen children of various ages from two upwards, seated round the table, in the middle of which is a large heap of rifle bullets. The family, armed with knives, files, scissors, and all sorts of odd kitchen utensils, are labouring away at the bullets, transforming them into dum-dums. Under- neath it you may read : " In England, too, the women at home are making ' love gifts ' for their dear ones in the field." The professor whom you are visiting notes the interest you show in the drawing. " Clever, isn't it ? " he inquires proudly. " Very clever, very clever, indeed ! " you reply with alacrity, but with a certain thoughtfulness in your voice. " It is so very realistic," you continue. " When I was last in London (don't forget to mention this with suitable apologies and re- grets), I witnessed many similar scenes." To show how the authorities and the Press keep the fires of " Gott strafe England ! " burning, I have photo- graphed a few of the posters and illustrations which one may see in any German book-store, at newspaper agents, hotels, and in many private houses. The most libellous among them are those that refer to the treat- ment of German prisoners in England. An illustration shows, in succession, the prisoners' " liberty of move- ment within a certain circle " ; " well-ventilated and light quarters " ; " the food " ; " they are often per- mitted to bathe " ; " false war news " ; and, the most scurrilous of all, " the slightly wounded receive careful medical treatment." Another picture shows German prisoners on the roofs of prominent buildings in London. Under the illustration it reads : " In order to protect public BERLIN IMPRESSIONS 53 buildings from Zeppelin bombs, the roofs have been made into prisoners' camps." I shall never forget my arrival at the Hotel Adlon. It was after dinner, and the first thing I noticed in the palm court was a group of eight officers in khaki. I can assure you it gave me a surprise, but I soon re- covered. They were American military attaches, just about to leave for the West. I have heard many funny stories about the curious incidents which took place in various parts of Belgium when those American officers were being shown round. The Belgians, of course, took them for British officers, and, seeing them walk and ride about free, and being treated with respect by the Germans, they naturally concluded that they were the advance guard of the " Great Push." Several times they were surrounded by a Belgian crowd shouting: " Vive I'Angleterre ! " much to their embarrassment, of course. At Louvain a troop of street urchins, headed by a tall lanky fellow, representing the Crown Prince, walked up to the American officers' car, and, with mock ceremony, handed over his wooden sword to them. I heard that the German authorities considerably cur- tailed the Belgian trip of those American officers. The situation became too annoying and embarrassing. The posters displayed in the various hotels and other public places in Berlin were almost as numerous as the recruiting appeals in London. Some of the most con- spicuous were large yellow announcements about gold, urging everybody not to keep it in his possession, but to take it to the Reichsbank. It impressed upon you that by holding it back you Avere neglecting your duty to the Fatherland, and indirectly helping the enemy. An appeal signed by General von Wachs, Military 54* BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL Commandant of the Province of Brandenburg, was quite a little gem. It was directed at manufacturers and other large employers of labour : " You cannot do without your employes ? " so it ran. " But what if the enemy should invade our Fatherland? Then you would be the very first to take a forced holiday and close down your works." The General wanted all able-bodied men between the ages of sixteen and fifty, who were untrained, to come and be instructed in the gentle art of defending their coun- try. " Do not acquiesce in words but in deeds. Do not say ' Yes — but,' say ' Yes — sure ! ' " Maps were displayed everywhere. I cannot remem- ber having been in any shop, office or private house, either in Berlin or in the provinces, where at least one large war map, if not several, was not displayed. I did not fail to notice that the maps, plans and sketches published by English newspapers were very popular. One of the first things that struck me was that most of the London and Paris dailies were for sale in all first- class hotels in the larger German cities I visited. It was quite amusing to hear an elderly, red-faced and bespectacled German, surrounded by his family, and enjoying his evening quart of beer, murdering the President's French. He read aloud from the Matin or the Figaro, and translated it with a running fire of vitu- perative expletives. The London Times is the most popular of all foreign papers. The price in Berlin was a shilling, but after Germany started the submarine blockade it rose to one-and-six, " owing to the great difficulty of transport between England and Holland." I often received London papers the day after publica- tion, but as a rule it took about two days. The Adlon Hotel lounge might safely be called one of BERLIN IMPRESSIONS 55 the most interesting spots in all the belligerent coun- tries. It was here that men and women of all national- ities, creeds, professions and classes foregathered. There were the hunters and the hunted ; the active and the idle; journalists and journeymen; there were types that bore great resemblance to the roast-beef cheeks of merry England ; there were Turks in their fez, slim Chinamen and robust Americans. Officers of all ranks and branches in their uniforms, accompanied by ladies, near-ladies and " unfortunate " ladies. All had their serious aims, and none trusted the other. One of the tables close to the American bar, otherwise dubbed " American Headquarters," was permanently reserved for " Herr Graf von Hessenstein," a nephew of the late General Moltke. We called him " Whisper- ing Charlie " for short, because he always had some- thing " confidential " to tell you, to whet your appetite for more. The " appetizer " was gratis, but if you wanted more you had to pay for it. " Whispering Charlie " was a source of great amusement to me. His transactions stirred up a very nice little hornets'-nest between the General Staff and the Berlin Foreign OflSce. It appeared, and was conclusively proved, that " Whis- pering Charlie " was a dealer in special privileges. If a journalist felt neglected Charlie was the doctor — for a consideration, of course. An American cinema operator, who suddenly grew ambitious to blossom into a journalist, approached Charlie in the proper manner, and lo ! five days later American papers published an " interview " by him with General Moltke. It is, of course, a mere matter of detail that the " interview " was a typewritten affair, presented to him by von Moltke — who knew as much English as Mr. Cinema man knew German, i.e., nil — with a " How do you do " and " Good-bye " thrown in. It proved what Charlie 56 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL could do. For an additional £50, plus a commission on the sale of a motor-car, bought by the Cinema man from Captain von Brauwitz, of the Railroad Depart- ment of the Berlin General Staff, Charlie furnished the American with a pass for a two weeks' visit to the Eastern front, including a hundred feet of film, which he was able to take of General Hindenburg and his Staff. He also filmed the Kaiser's sister. Prince von Biilow, and various other notabilities — cheap at the price ! Whispering Charlie offered this same man, in my presence, to persuade the Kaiser himself to pose for his cinematograph, for the purely nominal sum of 2,000 marks (£100). He explained that one of the Kaiser's personal A.D.C.'s was a friend and relative of his, who, *' for the sake of America's friendship," would be able to manage it. To me he offered, upon payment of a similar sum (half in advance, the other half on receipt of the necessary permits), a two weeks' trip along the Western battle-front. I agreed to this arrangement purely with the object of showing the Berlin authorities that " money talked " even in the German organisation. I paid the preliminary 1,000 marks (£50), and awaited proceedings. Alas ! it was once more demonstrated that a secret shared by two is no secret at all. My Ameri- can cinema man, during one of his many very hilarious dinners — German champagne was a bit too strong for him — let the cat out of the bag to Professor Stein, associate editor of the Vossische Zeitung. Much per- turbed. Stein insisted on further facts and details. Seeing that my little plan was spoiled, there was nothing else to do but to expose the whole system there and then. I reported the matter to the Foreign Office, who at first seemed rather to enjoy the joke. You see, Foreign Office and General Staff are not on No Admission to Potsdam BERLIN IMPRESSIONS 57 the best of terms with one another. On investigation, however, they found out that an official from the Foreign Office was implicated in this journalistic clearing-house, so they tried to pigeon-hole the matter by returning to me the 1,000 marks I had paid. But I thought that it would interest the Press Department of the General Staff. I went there and for the second time exploded the bomb. " Impossible ! absolutely impos- sible ! " I was assured, until I produced one or two receipts signed by Count von Hessenstein for various sums received from the cinema man. Then thej^ began to look serious and proceeded to take action. The outcome of the affair was that the cinema man was first urged to withdraw, or, rather, repudiate all his statements about the help received from Count Hessen- stein. If he would do that, he would be given a universal pass to travel anywhere in Germany and take all the photographs and cinema pictures he liked. I happen to know that he felt much inclined to accept such a generous offer, but the difficulty was that I was in pos- session of all his receipts for money paid to Hessen- stein. The upshot was that his filming career was cut short, and that he withdrew to the neutral territory of Holland. It had been a lucky day for me when I got hold of those receipts, because but for these I would have had no evidence at all after the American had left the countr3\ I made several affidavits, and Whis- pering Charlie and his partner. Dr. Marx, or Marks, disappeared for the time being from the Adlon field of operations. The Adlon Bar ("American Headquarters") was a most lively and interesting place after 1 a. m. The writer had a narrow escape of being *' Zaberned " {i.e., cut up with a sabre, like the lame cobbler of Zabern 58 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL fame) by a Prussian officer, who had looked too deep into several bottles. I was talking to an American, and, of course, spoke Enghsh. The officer, when he heard us, drew his sword, and running towards me shouted : " Hier wird Deutsch gesprochen " (" German must be spoken here"); adding that those people who do not know German have no business to be in Germany at all. He was quickly disarmed by several colleagues, who winked an eye at us and, later, came to oJ0Fer their abject apologies. There are few articles for sale in the shops that are not decorated with a facsimile iron cross. You may buy postcards with the iron cross — natural size — on it to send to your friend at the front, or you can buy a cigarette-case with a miniature cross in one of the corners. There are pipes, pocket-books, mugs, walking- sticks, handkerchiefs, brooches, rings — nay, I even saw a pair of black and white silk garters with wee iron crosses in the centre of the rosette. It is a bit over- done and does not tend to make that decoration more exclusive. I heard that up to October 1915, 900,000 iron crosses had been awarded. One afternoon while sipping my tea and enjoying the sights, in the Adlon Hotel palm court, I noticed a tall, good-looking German officer in cavalry uniform. I stared at him and he stared back and smiled. He came over to my table. " I am not surprised," he said, " that you are somewhat puzzled. We crossed together on the S.S, Rotterdam last year, from New York to Plymouth ! " Then of course I remembered at once. I had noticed him the first evening on board, during dinner, and recall saying to my neighbour at table that BERLIN IMPRESSIONS 69 there would be small chance of his escape on account of his very Teutonic appearance, if we should be held up by an English warship. He was always alone, but one day he confided to the ship's gossip that he was a Finn and on his way to join the Russian Army. It struck none of us at the time — nor evidently the Brit- ish Colonel who examined our papers at Plymouth — that it was rather a strange route to go from America to Russia via Holland. He passed the eagle eyes of the inquisitive British Colonel, who cross-examined every one of us, inquiring into our antecedents, whether we had any German relations ; whether we intended going to Germany, and I even heard the dear old Colonel inquire of one of the passengers whether he " spoke " German! But our would-be Finn merely showed his Finnish papers (belonging to his brother-in-law in New York). He did not speak English but knew French fluently. He passed without any difficulties whatso- ever. He assured me that during those twelve days on board he had lived through many anxious waking hours, and that it was an immense relief when the good ship finally landed him safely on Dutch soil. I should like to place on record two of my earliest and most frequent impressions gained in various parts of Germany : 1. It was freely admitted by those who knew that the English powers of organisation had been grossly underrated. 2. That the war would probably' last about four years, before the Allies would be convinced that " Germany cannot be destroyed." New troops proceeding towards the front rarely know before several hours after starting, whether they are 60 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEH. going to the Eastern or the Western theatre of war. Frequently not even the commanding officers know until two hours after departure, when they are permitted to open their sealed orders. Of course I did not fail to meet Berlin's Lord Mayor, an elderly, very simple, homely German of the middle classes. His attitude was, as he expressed it, one of " quiet, hopeful confidence in the ultimate outcome." He seemed to have been pleasantly surprised by the con- duct of the Berlin Social Democrats, who, in pre-war days, had been his veritable bete noire. " They have come up to the scratch like real men and true Germans," he told me. " When we were somewhat puzzled about the organisation and distribution of our bread tickets, the Berlin trades'-union headquarters placed four thou- sand of their members voluntarily at our disposal. They worked for many hours a day, and that, mind you, in the majority of cases, after their own working hours. He spoke of the allowances made to the wives and chil- dren of the men under arms. In Berlin this came to 10 marks ($2.40) a week for the wives and 3 marks (72 cents) a week for each child. The yearly pension for the widow of a private is 400 marks ($97.20) ; of a sergeant, $121.50; of a sergeant-major, $145.80; of a lieutenant or captain, $291.60; of a major, lieutenant- colonel or colonel, $388.80 ; and of a general, $486.00. The children of N.CO.'s and privates, fallen in the war, receive $38.88 per annum till they have reached their eighteenth birthday. For the children of fallen officers the allowance varies between $48.60 and $72.90 per annum. Little enough to buy " Kultur " with, it would seem! I also paid several visits, by urgent invitation I should add, to the " Alexanderplatz," which is the Ger- BERLIN IMPRESSIONS 61 man synonym for Scotland Yard. At the Alexander- platz stands the majestic " Polizei Prasidium." From what I was able to see of their methods there, they were somewhat antiquated compared to English and Ameri- can systems. A long statement of mine, for instance (in connection with " Whispering Charlie's " activities), was taken down in long hand. Baroness von Below, the American wife of the well- known General of that name, tells an interesting story about her husband's sudden return to Berlin. Madame von Below was at Aix-les-Bains. On the 25th of July, 1914*, her husband joined her there. He was at the time in command of a regiment of the Guards in Berlin. On the 30th, his second in command, a Colonel Lyncker, well known through his various military publications, telegraphed to him, but instead of signing his name, wired: " Return at once. — Augusta." The Baroness happened to open that telegram herself. She assured me that her husband had a bad quarter of an hour arguing that " Augusta " could only refer to the name of the Kaiserin Augusta Victoria Guards Regiment, under his command. He escaped from France by the last train crossing the frontier. The Baroness pro- ceeded to Italy, where she waited until certain funds, for which she had cabled to America, had arrived. On her way to Berlin she learned at Jena that Namur had fallen, but little realised that it had been captured by her husband's regiment. There is a General von Below and also a General von Biilow in Berlin. Curiously enough, both families not only live in the same street and in the same mansion, but on the same floor as well. Always an interesting spot in Berlin is the comer of 62 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL the Wilhelms and Dorothean Strasse, where the Staff College stands. It is now used for the administration of the casualty lists. Every new issue is pasted on the walls outside, and there you may find hundreds of peo- ple, too poor to pay the nominal sum charged for the latest copy of the casualty list, poring over them, searching for the name of son, father, husband, lover, or friend. If you remain there a little while you will usually witness some of those minor human tragedies which go to make up this stupendous one, when some old lady or man is led out of the crowd murmuring a beloved name, coupled to the final, hopeless word: "Tot, tot, tot" ("Dead, dead, dead"). Early during the war a large map-publishing com- pany issued what was called a " World War Map." It showed the five continents, and, to illustrate Germany's naval power, all the various stations of the Fleet were indicated by small black ships, with their names printed underneath. Of course, those details were taken from the " peace " naval stations. Off^ the coast of Japan lay the proud Scharnhorst and Gneisenau; the Emden was stationed off Bombay ; the Dresden and Magdeburg off the coast of South America, and the super-Dread- nought Deutschland, with smoking funnels (in token of preparedness, no doubt), proudly figured on the map just west of Ireland. The North Sea, of course, was peppered with various German warships. I must em- phasise here that it was not a map printed in peace- time, but published after the outbreak of the war. I am sure it was one of the naval league propaganda exhibits, illustrating, for the benefit of the German people, how well the money which they had subscribed for the building of their Navy had been spent ! Alas! before long, owing to the activities of the BERLIN IMPRESSIONS 63 British Navy, the map began to look very much out of date. The shadow ships became too symbohc, and, when, one after the other, the German naval " peace " stations were denuded of their proud guardians, and when one night some wag changed the title of the map hanging in the Hotel Adlon by erasing from the German motto : " Unsere Zukunft liegt auf dem Wasser " the word " auf " and changed it into " unter," the German Press Department thought it was time to suppress further exhibition of the map, which gradually began to illustrate Great Britain's " Britannia rules the Waves " far more than that Germany's future lay on the water. The sale and exhibition of that map was henceforth strictly prohibited under a penalty of heavy fines. Exportation also was forbidden. I was fortunate enough to obtain a copy, and succeeded in smuggling it out of Germany. It is now at Whitehall, where on my return to England I took it, and, together with some other documents, placed it at the disposal of the authori- ties. I have recently had considerable correspondence about these papers, as I was anxious to reproduce some of them with these notes. But the powers that be at the War Office evidently consider that that would be indiscreet, as they refuse to return them. (I might incidentally add that they refused to recognise my claim for compensation on account of depreciation of my literary material. However, this is merely in parenthesis.) A very interesting and popular photographic poster is one showing the German Emperor, in flowing cloak and admiral's cocked hat, standing in the centre of the map of Germany with both his hands on the steer- ing-wheel of an imaginary ship. Underneath it read: 64 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL "Lieb Vaterland kannst ruhig sein, Du brauchst niemals verzagen; Du hast den rechten Steuermann, In diesen schweren Tagen." Freely translated, it means that the Fatherland can be of good courage, and need not despair as long as they have the right pilot at the helm. CHAPTER IX MUNICH AT the Bavarian " Kriegsacademie " (Staff Col- lege), in Munich, which has been turned into a large hospital, I came across the first Allied prisoners of war. There were a large number of French and some English prisoners there. I talked to several of them — to one J. Featherstone, belonging to the Rifle Brigade, and to Private G. Kelly, of the King's Royal Rifles. I spoke to them alone, out of earshot of any of the warders or other hospital employes. Both assured me that they were being well treated and had nothing whatever to complain of. It was the same with a num- ber of Frenchmen I questioned. There was a man of the 79th Regiment present, a certain Perouff, and an- other of the 76th Regiment, by name of Henri Gassies. I had lengthy conversations with both, and they stated most emphatically that the treatment they received was excellent. In one of the halls about sixteen of them were sitting round a long table, playing cards. From the numbers on their tunics they represented the fol- lowing regiments : the 37th, 46th, 55th, 56th, 76th, 77th, 79th, 89th, 153rd, 160th and 172nd. Perouff" told me that several of his friends, who had left the previous week, almost cried. There were about forty men to each ward, the rooms were high and well ventilated, and each ward had a bath-room with two baths, a shower- bath and W.C. The meals were as follows (I am giving here the in- formation obtained from Perouff^ and Featherstone) : 7 A, M. — Coff'ee and bread. 65 66 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL 11 A. M. — Beer (those that are allowed to have it). 1 :30 p. M. — Soup, meat and vegetables. 4:30 P.M.— Coffee. 6 p. M. — Soup and meat. One Frenchman, with a leg wound, who was still in bed, was drawing a German soldier carrying a wounded Frenchman — his own experience ! ■ The real marvel of Munich is the Custom Warehouse Hospital. It is a large, very commodious building, and is arranged with true German method. The wounded are brought to its very doors by through trains from the front, and are placed in a large hall, where the dif- ferent cases are sorted out. Spacious elevators take them upstairs to four different floors. There was one large ward with about one hundred, perhaps more, beds. Usually each ward contains about thirty to fifty. To each is attached a spacious bath-room with six baths and shower-baths, and two movable ones on wheels, which can be placed alongside the man's bed. The operating theatre was a wonderful affair, large and light, with windows on practically every side. The perfect cleanliness of every nook and comer of the building struck me. The longer I looked round, the more I was impressed with the enormous work it must have entailed to change a warehouse into a modern hospital. To build all these bath-rooms, operating the- atres and kitchens, to lay on central heating, etc., and, remarking on this, I suggested that it would have been almost as easy to erect an entirely new building. Then I learned the most interesting detail of all from the assistant superintendent who was showing me round. His answer fairly made me gasp and then smile : " Oh, no ; it was not as difficult as you think ! " he said, smil- MUNICH 67 ing deprecatingly. " You see, we Germans always try to think ahead. This building was only meant to be a customs warehouse in peace time, and it was built on such lines and plans that, when the need should arise, it could practically at once be transformed into a first- class modern hospital." I think we may safely let that statement speak for itself. Major Sonnenberg, of the Bavarian War Office, the walls of whose room were, by the way, covered with the Times war maps, said, during a conversation I had with him : " Do you remember Napoleon's saying : ' A Nation cannot be conquered ' ? Germany has never been beaten while she remained united." Nevertheless, the dear old Major, who was not at all a typical " Bavarian lion " and fire-eater, when I left suddenly asked : " Cannot America stop this wholesale murder ? " I also met the Lord IMayor of Munich, and had a long talk with him. His topic was the " Allied starvation scheme ! " He gave chapter and verse, or I should say pounds and ounces, together with all the details of bread-making. He enumerated the amount of grain, water and potato flour used per pound of bread. He put all the figures down, brought forth the old faithful " Statistical Yearbook," showed the number of bushels the yearly harvest amounted to, divided it by the num- ber of inhabitants, and thus proved by " incontro- vertible " figures the utter futility of the Allies attempt- ing to starve Germany into submission. Though I did not try to follow his figures, I think he is right. To explain why I think so would lead me far beyond the scope of this chapter, or even of this book; but, let 68 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL me say here, as I have said in several other places in these notes, there is only one way of bringing Germany to her knees, and that is by brute force, by successful military operations ; in other words, by winning decisive battles. Captain von Lahmezahn, one of the few regular offi- cers left in Munich, insisted upon personally showing me over the Prince Arnoff Barracks (Bavarian Guards). The new drafts (1916) had then been in training for about six weeks, and, with pardonable pride, he showed their condition. Only a born soldier could so thor- oughly assimilate the atmosphere of barracks, discipline and efficiency in as short a time as those men evidently had. But one thing struck me, there was a sameness in every movement, a mechanical precision in all their actions. (I am not merely referring to the time when they were on parade, but also to their subsequent be- haviour.) When we entered one of the kitchens a voice from nowhere bawled at the top of its lungs : " StilU gestanden! " and every one present jumped into a stiffly erect position. Then some one rushed towards the cap- tain at a pace that I thought must inevitably bring them into collision. But three paces away he stopped and again he began to bawl out something, only this time it was a whole string of words. I was able to gather that it was the kitchen of the 3rd Battalion; that they were cooking that day for six hundred and fifty men, and that the food was soup and meat. I tasted them, and found both excellent. Whenever the captain stopped a man and asked him a question, that same method of speaking, or rather shouting, was used in answer. They spoke as if they had been addressed by a man standing half a mile off. I asked the captain what the object of this method was. MUNICH 69 His explanation was that it teaches them to keep always on the alert. " Many of the recruits," he said, " when they arrive at their depots, are * mother's darlings,' speak softly and slowly and are startled when you address them. After two weeks' training their whole attitude to life, their manner of acting and thinking, has been changed. Having to answer at the top of their voices makes them keen and alert." The commandant of the battalion and of the barracks was a Major von Calcker, a member of the Reichstag, and a Professor at the University of Munich. He was an extremely pleasant, courteous and gentle man. Not at all the German officer type. He explained at once that he was what in England is called a " dug-out." Though long past the age-limit, he had at once offered his services to the Vaterland. In him, as, indeed, in most Bavarians of the upper classes, I noticed an entire absence of that intense spirit of hatred so prominent amongst the Prussians. If I may venture a prophecy, I think that it will not be as difficult as some people imagine (and as the Prussians would like us all to be- lieve), to separate once more the various German States, and make them independent kingdoms and prin- cipalities. I may be mistaken, but reading between the lines, and at the bottom of many expressions of patriotism, etc., one could discover the secret thought: " What else could we do but fight ; we are tied to Prussia, and practically under her thumb." If those smaller States can be given reasonable guar- antees that they will not be exposed to internecine war- fare, or to an attack from Prussia, the majority of them will be only too happ}' to cut loose from their arrogant masters. The Prussians think themselves the super-race of Gennans, and look down upon the " zu gemiithliche " (i.e., too kind, too jovial) " Sachsen, 70 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL Bayern and Wiirtembergers." And the Bavarians, Sachsen and Wiirtembergers know this. The Bavarians might be called the Irishmen of the German Empire. In the first place, they are primarily fighting for Bavaria as the Irish are primarily fighting for Ireland. Then the Bavarian dearly loves a fight, and I think the young fellow who expressed himself about the war one evening at the " Hofbrauhaus " in Munich, voiced the opinion of a great many of his compatriots : Said he : " Hah ! what luck to be able to ' sich rau- fen ' " {i.e., indulge in a rough and tumble fight) " with- out the chance of some policeman coming to interfere, just when the real fun begins ! " I am glad to notice that the British Army has now adopted steel helmets. The Germans started making and using them in October, 1914, but without altering the familiar appearance of the " Pickelhaube." During ray stay in Munich I made a short week-end trip into the Bavarian Alps, and there came, quite unex- pectedly, on one of those pathetic scenes that are so poignantly human. I had wandered far out of my way. After a long afternoon's walk I stopped for tea — I should say " coffee " — ^ at a little wayside " Gasthaus " (inn), of which many are to be found in the Alps. That morning the order had come for the son of the house, belonging to the 1916 class, to join his depot. The call had been expected for several weeks, so the boy was quite ready, and to judge from his lively and happy demeanour, delighted to go. But the old mother, a little grey-haired lady, could not share his enthusiasm, and when the hour of parting drew near, she placed her hands in front of her face and sobbed. The Bavarian MUNICH 71 guide, a gaunt, strapping old fellow, nervously pulling at his long pipe, and with a suspicion of tears lurking in the corners of his eyes, patted her on the back and said : " Come, come, mother, buck up. Think of all the others who are sending their boys to fight for King and Country." And the old lady looked up through her tears and slowly replied : " A mother does not think of others." But when voices outside announced the arrival of some of the other boys from the village, bound for the same destination, she pulled herself together, and call- ing the boy to her side, said in a mock-serious voice: " Now don't feel that you must always be the first every- where." Then followed a little ceremony as impressive as it was simple. " Give me your blessing, mother," said the boy. And taking off his little round hat dec- orated with flowers, he knelt down at the old lady's feet. She stretched out two thin, withered old hands, and murmured a prayer and a blessing. One more embrace, and then he had gone. Gradually the music and sing- ing died down in the distance. By the window stood the little mother, and, as I paid my bill, and quietly left the room, I heard her whisper: " And so you work and suffer to bring up your child, and then, one day he is taken away. You don't know why, and you don't know whither." CHAPTER X ZEPPELINS " It's our Kaiser, and no one else, that the English have to thank, that half of their London is not laid in ashes." THIS cheerful statement was made to me by Major Herwarth von Bitterfeld, of the General Staff, at a dinner given by Baron Mumm von Schwarzenstein, of the Foreign Office, to various neutral journalists, including myself, at the, time stationed in Berlin. My informant was perfectly serious when he made the statement quoted at the head of this chapter, and I am convinced that he believed every word he said. I know that he has many influential connections in the Kaiser's immediate entourage, and I am indebted to him for many bits of gossip and real information. Especially after having finished a bottle or two of " Pommery Sec," his favourite vintage, Bitterfeld could be relied upon to do his duty by any enterprising journalist. In the Major's case conviviality bred loquacity. I heard a great deal in those months about Zeppelin raids on England. A great deal was expected of them. In those days the favourite shape for menu cards was a pasteboard Zeppelin or aeroplane. Naturally, not infrequently they formed an easy introduction to aero- nautical subjects, and, of course, from Zeppelins to a raid over London is only an after-dinner flight. I must admit that many things I learned at that dinner have subsequently come true ; many others, again, have not and never will. The Germans are poor psychologists. A mass Zep- 72 ZEPPELINS 73 pelin attack on London was looked upon as the greatest trump card Germany' had up her sleeve. They fondly imagined that a few serious raids over London would make the British public squeal and clamour for peace ! " Air defences ! Ha, my dear fellow," so I was as- sured again and again, *' there is absolutely no adequate defence against our Zeppelins. They can fly ten thou- sand feet high, which is totally out of reach of any air- gun yet invented. Let them make their London dark ; they cannot cover up the Thames, they cannot hide St. Paul's and the Tower. As to attacks by aeroplanes, our machine-guns will take care of those." " Just what can a Zeppelin do, or not do ? " was one of my pet questions, and many and varied were the replies I received in answer. More about them anon. Let us return to the soft-hearted Kaiser and Major Bitterfeld. " Ever since the beginning of the war," the Major assured me, " various Chiefs of the Marineamt ' " (Ad- miralty) " and of the Great General Staff have been trying to persuade the Emperor to sign the edict order- ing periodical air raids on London. Alas ! " (with a deep sigh) " until now without success." I was told — by various informants — that the Kaiser refused on the grounds that London was an undefended town, and that he could not allow an attack from the air on his own relations !..."! know," sadly concluded the Major, " how very hard some of our leaders have pleaded and argued with him." " London is the heart and brain of this terrible war, and it should be given a taste of what war really is. A raid with some ten or fifteen of our latest Zeppelins would accomplish this thoroughly." I was told that in February, 1915, twenty Zeppelins had been ready for a preliminary raid over London; 74? BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL but absolutely at the eleventh hour the plan had to be abandoned as the Kaiser refused his sanction. " It was the same old story with our submarines," my informant continued ; " it took us several months to persuade the Emperor that we had to meet force with force. The BUI was only signed about six weeks > before it took effect. I suppose we must have patience a little longer with our Zeppelins. Anyhow, we have been over to leave our cards." Everybody was agreed on the one cardinal point, viz., their absolute confidence in the power of Zeppelins ; but the ideas of their greatest usefulness differed widely. " Our Zeppelins may not entirely revolutionise war- fare, but they will play a very important part in it. Up till now the need of them has not been so urgent, as we have been fighting mainly on land ; but when ' The Day ' arrives, and the British Fleet comes out of its hiding-place in the Irish Sea, then, my friends, the world will learn what a Zeppelin can do." The speaker was a man in the early thirties, and I feel sure that he was sincere. " Oh," he added passionately, " if they would only come out ! " I could not help asking with a perfectly blank expression on my face : " Who — the British or the Germans.? " " You see," another went on to explain to me, " every- body who knows anything at all about naval warfare and British naval strategy is aware that they have always proclaimed the theory that ' the enemy's coast is the first line of defence.' What has become of that axiom ? Where are their ships ? " I inquired whether an air raid over London would not be an extremely hazardous and expensive under- taking. How many of the twenty Zeppelins would re- m f English Tricks III order fo protect piihlir l>iiil(Uii(ix from Zeppelin bombs, the En(jl\xh hnre placed Geriiwii prisoners on the roofs ZEPPELINS 75 turn? What would become of the manageability of an airship when heavy loads were suddenly dropped from it ? Had the damage they did to Paris been worth the risk? But nothing could shake their confidence. " In the first place," so I was told for the tenth time, " we have not yet begun to use our reserve surprises. We must hold something back for emergencies. Sup- pose — mind 3'^ou, I say only suppose — that we should suffer some serious set-back in France and Belgium, and deem it advisable to retire to our own frontier. Then would come the time to bring our Zeppelins into play. How long, do 3^ou think, would the English population stand continual night raids on their cities? Who do you think would soonest cry ' Enough ' ? " " Now as to the risks. From what you have seen of the spirit, the enthusiasm of our people, do you doubt for one moment but that you could find a thousand volunteers a day for any Zeppelin trip across the North Sea?" (By the way, I noticed during the last weeks of my stay in Germany that they referred more to the crossing of the North Sea than — as was usually the case heretofore — exclusively to " Flying across the Channel.") "We Germans do not think of our lives when the good of the Fatherland is at stake." As an interesting little side-light on this man's char- acter, I learned later that he was originally an artillery officer ; was wounded before Verdun, and for some months unable to walk without a stick. During that time he managed, through influence, to obtain a second- in-command commission on a submarine. " I do not know a single compatriot of mine," he continued, " who would hesitate to volunteer for such a journey. Then, as to material costs. Suppose we did lose half our airships? The great mistake our 76 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL enemies make is to think that we are weakening as the war goes on. Our great system is only the basis of our army and navy. " We are building up, creating as the war continues. Germany's motto has changed once more ; it is no longer ' Our future lies on the water,' but, ' Our future lies in the air.' The longer the war lasts, the stronger our air power will be, the less England will remain an island. Our visit to Paris, like our trip to England, was nothing more than a trial spin. As on the occasion of our raid on England the fuses of most of the bombs we dropped were turned off so that they should not explode. If necessary, we can build an airship in a month, and an aeroplane in just half that time. " Just as likely as not, this war may not be definitely decided; but, in that case, it will soon be followed by another war with England, and then our airships will play the greatest part." I inquired what England was going to do in the mean- time, whether she was going to lag behind in the building of an air fleet? Perhaps Albion would say: "For every German airship we'll build two ! " What then ? I was anxious to see what the answer would be. Truth to tell, I thought I had him " on the hip." The speaker looked at me for a second or two before answer- ing. If I had wanted to be very critical I might have discovered a trace of sincere pity in his look. Such ignorance I Then he smiled good-humouredly. " What, then, you ask ? England has not the armies which it can transport — by air — to Germany, to de- liver a decisive battle, and to follow up the advantage of her air fleet. The Britisher, in his conceited ignorance, his boastfulness, will never agree to conscription, and no one will ever be able to make him see his danger. ZEPPELINS 77 Therein lies his ultimate ruin. I say once more, and most emphatically, England's greatest strength, the fact of its being an island, is disappearing fast. The huge size of its Empire, its millions of inhabitants, its fleet, none of those factors will count. It's the twenty- five miles between Dover and Calais which will ultimately seal her fate, and make her cede her place, as tJie first •world-power, to Germany." " Wilhelmshaven, the nearest German naval harbour, is nearly three hundred miles from London, and, as far as Berlin is concerned, that town is entirely beyond English reach. But London is less than one hundred miles from Calais, near enough to organise an aerial invasion. I do not say that is going to happen in this war, but it will come." We returned then to the subject of Zeppelins as an auxiliary to the fleet. Here is the formula which was sketched for me on the back of a menu-card : " The cost of a Zeppelin is about £125,000." (I have seen in England figures that state double this amount, but I am quite sure they are exaggerated. The first naval Zeppe- lins cost a milhon marks (£50,000). Recent improve- ments have not increased the cost of construction by more than 150 per cent.) "One British Dreadnought costs £2,000,000. Suppose we spend a little over half the money a Dreadnought costs on airships, that would give us ten Zeppelins to place against every British Dreadnought. A Dreadnought needs about 1,000 men ; ten airships about 200. A Dreadnought can do about 25 miles an hour, an airship at least 40 to 50. How is a battleship going to escape its ten pursuers.? " Give each airship only ten torpedoes, each the average weight of a man, say, about 75 kilogrammes. Now, my friend, will you tell me what chance a British 78 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL battleship would have under such circumstances? A hundred air torpedoes raining from the sky, any one of which can destroy her." The dimensions of the latest Super-Zeppelins are ap- proximately : Length 800 feet. Diameter 75 feet. Speed 50 to 60 miles. Navigable height 15,000 feet. Gas-capacity approx. ..2,000,000 cubic feet. The subject of the number of Zeppelins Germany has has always been a matter of speculation, in Germany itself as well as abroad. The figures I learned in Ger- many ranged between 50 and 120. The rule of the happy medium may apply here, too. Official figures are difficult, if not entirely impossible to obtain. The Zeppelins now are mostly under the jurisdiction of the German " Marineamt," and it would be easier to make the Sphinx talk than to squeeze an interview of any importance or value out of that institution. I am speaking from personal experience. What I did come across, though — how, when and where are of no interest at present — was an official list of Zeppelin sheds in Germany. I was indiscreet enough to feast my hungry journalistic eyes on it, and even succeeded in making a hasty copy. From this list it is possible to construct a fairly accurate estimate of the number of Zeppelins Germany has, or at least had, last year. On the Eastern frontier there are seven different Zeppelin stations, viz.: Thorn, Allenstein, ZEPPELINS 79 Schneidemiihl, Posen, Liegnitz (near Breslau), Konigsberg, Graudenz. Near the Western frontier fifteen diflferent stations were enumerated, viz., at: Metz, Aix la Chapelle, Strassburg, Cologne (at Nippes and at Bickendorf), Frankfurt-am-Main, Friedrichshafen, Manzell (near Friedrichshafen), Oos (Baden, Black Forest), Mannheim, Treves, Lahr (Baden), Leichlingen (near Essen), Wanne. Berlin is practically surrounded by Zeppelin sheds. They are at: Johannisthal (General Aerodrome), Tegel, Biesdorf, Potsdam. In Central Germany the following places were recorded as having Zeppelin sheds : Dresden, Leipzig, Bitterfeld (twenty-five miles north of Leipzig), Gotha, Hanover. 80 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL Near the coast (North Sea) are: Wilhelmshaven, Cuxhaven, Heligoland, Fuhlsbiittel (Hamburg), Tondern, Tonning, Kiel. In Belgium : Brussels, Ghent, Dinant, Bruges. In addition to these there are said to be twenty-two portable Zeppelin sheds. Together with the above list, ^ and a map showing Zeppelin sheds in Germany, I obtained plans and draw- ings of a Zeppelin, giving much interesting information. I cannot reproduce them here as they are still at White- hall. I give you these views for what they are worth. I must add that they are not the opinions of civilians, but all of them were expressed to me either by military or naval officers, some of them members of flying squadrons. One of the main reasons why they thought their Zeppelins invincible was explained to me again and again, and at great length. " You see, our latest Super-Zeppelins are filled with absolutely uninflammable gas," so I was told. " They can punch as many holes in that great gas bag as they like, but as long as two of the twenty odd compartments 3ci?pcltn ji bcr gcnt>cn _ Zeppelin Over London The End of England's Sea-Power. Lord Nelson descending from his Column to hide in the Underqronnd Raihrn'i ZEPPELINS 81 remain whole, the Zeppelin will be able to return home ! " I wonder what they are thinking about that " unin- flammable gas " now ! Several posters and caricatures have, of course, been drawn playing on Zeppelin raids over England. Illus- tration facing this page is called " Zeppelinitis," and shows Nelson descending from his column to hide in the Underground Railway. Sub-title is, " The End of England's Sea-Power." CHAPTER XI SPIES AND SPYING EIGHTY MILLION MARKS (POUR MILLION STERLING) was Germany's annual budget for her spy system before the war. What it amounts to now it is impos- sible to estimate. " One good spy is worth a dozen diplomats." Thus Herr Matthias Erzberger, leader of the powerful Centrum Party, chief spy and press manipulator in Italy before it entered the war, and personal crony of the Kaiser, one evening in Berlin while we were dis- cussing German diplomats. In these two statements you have the German es- pionage principle in a nutshell. Let me first give you a few names and details of some of the main characters in the story of the German spy system. They are all real names, not fictitious ones. The majority can be found in the German equivalents of Who's Who, and the Army and Civil Lists. Leutnant Baron Max Hochwachtee As I have mentioned already, he was for several years (up to August, 1914) so-called manager and director of the Stuttgart Daimler Motor Works branch in London. His age is about thirty-five. He is quite handsome. His English and French are perfect. He expects to return to London the moment peace is declared. As he foresees some difficulties for Germans " the first six months after the war," he wiU be a " Frenchman." 82 SPIES AND SPYING — I 83 Majoe Freiherr Herwarth von Bitterfeld Berlin Great General Staff. Son of the well-known General of that name. Formerly military attache at the German Embassy in Washington (succeeded by the notorious von Papen). Ostensibly he is connected with the " Presse Abteilung " of the Great General Staff, but in reality he is a member of the Intelligence service. His mission is to make himself popular with foreign journalists. To what purpose I shall show later. Matthias Erzberger Leader of the Catholic Centrum Party in the Reichs- tag. Ten years ago he was a village schoolmaster in Bavaria ; to-day he is one of the men in closest contact with the German Emperor. He is frequently in con- flict with the Chancellor. Persona grata at the Holy See. Made frantic efforts to keep Italy out of the war. One of the master brains of Germany's espionage system. Hauptmann von Brauchitsch Berlin General Staff. Man of mystery. Some say that he is the notorious Steinhauer, chief of the German spy system. His father lived in France before the war of 1870 as Monsieur " de " Brauchitsch. He was an intimate friend of the great Stieber, who founded Ger- many's espionage system. When in September, 1870, Bismarck wanted a " good Prussian " as Prefect of the Seine-et-Oise district, Stieber told him that he had the very man he wanted — Monsieur de Brauchitsch. Cap- tain von Brauchitsch accompanied the Kaiser on his visit to London in 1911. 84 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL Me. Aubeey Stanhope A renegade Britisher. Editor of a sheet called the Continental Times, in which he makes bi- and tri-weekly attacks on his mother country. In his free time he works for the German anti-espionage department. A despicable traitor, and I had the great satisfaction of telling him so. He calls himself " neutral." Was an intimate friend of the late Roger Casement. Frank Paswex-l Supposed to be an American. He is in the service of Erzberger. (/ saw his pass signed by the latter.) German propagandist in Russia. Address: Hotel Astoria, Petrograd. Major (or Captain) Egon von Kapher Member of the Intelligence Department, and an ex- pert in the trade. He has written several treatises on the subject of spying, and from what I learned in many long conversations with him, especially after dinner, an expert in practice as well as in theory. Herr Rader, or Rader Secretary to Herr Zimmermann, Permanent Under- Secretary of the Foreign Office. "Rader" probably his nom de guerre. Fraulein L A French-Austrian, playing both parts. I met her four years ago in New York. She was then " French." In Berlin she was " Austrian." A charming, most vivacious, clever and attractive young person. I do not know whether she was a French or an Austrian spy. That she was either the one or the other is certain. / N Q O SI SPIES AND SPYING — I 85 In the embarras de richesse of spy data it is difficult to know where to begin. One of the most phenomenal parts of this organisa- tion is their card index system. From what I learned about it, it would seem that there are few officers in any Army or Navy, few politicians or diplomats, etc., of any country, who are not listed in Berlin. The most minute details are recorded — character, age, financial position, efficiency, hobbies, friends and associates. If married, similar details are given about the man's wife : whether she is faithful, and, if not, who her lover is ; her friends, etc., etc. Every country has its chief inspectors, inspectors, sub-inspectors and ordinary agents. Woe betide the man who is responsible if at the yearly audit some of the details prove missing or incorrect. Msmy English- men of a certain position will no doubt recall having received little typewritten notices informing them that if at any time they should be in deed of a loan (whether small or large), they can always be accommodated on their note of hand alone, etc., etc. Usually they bear as signature a good old English name. But the money behind it is more often than not German capital. Close observation is kept on any officer or N.C.O. who for some reason or other is cashiered or discharged. Those who are still more unfortunate, viz., those that happen to land in gaol, are never lost sight of. British gaols have supplied the German Intelligence Department with many a recruit. Special registers are kept of every foreigner living in Germany, and you may be certain that in a country where half the population is employed in spying on the other half, what the Intelligence Department does not know about the foreigner is not worth knowing. They 86 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL are all part and parcel (the foreign element, I mean) of Germany's spy system. They are the " raw mate- rial," so to speak. One does not like to write about women, but a dis- cussion of their system would, indeed, be very incom- plete if the fair sex were left out. To enumerate the various types employed would need a separate chapter, if not a whole book. They are as varied as, shall we say, the sex itself. As a rule, they are employed in " team work " — i.e., they work together with a man. Many of them have the air and the manners of the grande dame; others, again are charming ingenues. Every one of them is fiendishly clever, and they prove every day the fallacy of the old theory that a woman cannot keep a secret. I have met several of these " ladies " in Berlin ; but whereas I had many an interesting conversation with the male, the female of the species proved too much for me. I never got anything worth writing about out of them. Another member of the German Spy Staff operating in London was a certain Miss Smyth (I do not know whether that was her London name). She was a charming American girl, chaperoned by her British aunt (by advertisement). But after Miss Smyth had made many social conquests and connec- tions, suddenly all her entertainments ceased. Poor Miss Smyth ! Her unscrupulous brother, whom she had trusted implicitly, had speculated and lost his and her whole fortune. She did not care to return to America on account of the disgrace her brother had fallen into. Did people think she could find a position as governess, companion, or "just anything".? Many offers were SPIES AND SPYING — I 87 received, and as in the household of a certain well-known statesman, the children's governess had opportunely left, Miss Smyth obtained the position. She stayed with them for two years, and amply earned her salary from the German Intelligence Department. The German Intelligence Department claims exclusive knowledge of the preparation of a certain kind of sen- sitised paper for copying and photographing plans, maps, letters and other documents without a camera. Two pieces of glass are all that is needed. The sensi- tised paper and the document to be copied are placed between the glass, and at night, or in a darkened room, are exposed to candlelight for a matter of a few minutes. The preparation can also be used for sensitising the pages of an ordinary book, novels preferably, or news- papers. The impression only appears after develop- ment in a certain fluid (somewhat on the principle of gas-light developing paper). I was told that in this manner long reports contain- ing valuable information are being brought out of Eng- land to this day. One of the cleverest schemes, though, of taking writ- ten material out of this country is in the lining of clothes. No, I do not mean having thin paper sewn inside the lining. That is an old, discarded trick. The new dodge is to typewrite the reports on ordinary lining material with what are called book-keepers' type- writers. Then the stuff is treated with a certain preparation, whereupon the writing disappears. A friendly tailor does the rest. And they defy any British detective to discover such reports, which, needless to sa}^, can be quite extensive. CHAPTER XII SPIES AND SPYING H BARON HOCHWACHTER boasted that in Eng- land you could buy anything if you had the price. " To any foreigner who comes to London with a well- filled purse, and who is willing to spend handsomely, all doors are open, no matter of what race or nationality he may be — German, Jew, Turk, or Negro. He is asked to English entertainments, English country houses, where he meets everybody he wants to meet from Royalty downwards." They call this in Berlin, " Mobilisation of the Draw- ing-room." From what I subsequently learned, it was often also a case of mobilising the " back-stairs " re- gions. Before leaving Hochwachter, I must mention that he is quite convinced that shortly after peace has been signed he will return to his old haunts in London. He turned over the contents of his luxurious flat in May- fair to an English friend who takes care of it for him till after the war. " That's more sensible, eh," he grinned at me, " than the way in which that fool Miin- ster " (referring to Prince Miinster, of Twickenham) " arranged his affairs. If he had done the same, then the Government would never have been able to touch his estate." Germany's Intelligence Department overlooks few points. They know, as President Lincoln said, that you can fool all people some of the time, and some people aU the time, but that you cannot fool all the 88 SPIES AND SPYING — II 89 people all the time. They suspected that even England would some day wake up to the German danger in her midst. And then ..." what about our Intelligence Department? " The German Intelligence Department is built on such sound foundations (this seems rather an ironical adjec- tive to use for an institution that is ethically and mor- aUy so utterly rotten, but the reader wi]l know what I mean), that it can change personnel and working- method in an instant and without interrupting the smooth running of the great machine. I will try to describe some of the new ways employed since the war, and let me hasten to add that my knowl- edge was gained from a thorough personal investiga- tion. First, I will deal with the procedure in Germany itself. As I have mentioned elsewhere in these notes, every foreigner in Germany is registered. This is not a regulation inaugurated since the beginning of the war, it has existed for many years. He must notify the police whenever he moves from one place to another, or when he intends leaving the country. I think it is no exaggeration to say that the authorities know to a few pfennigs how much their guests have in the bank, what their income is, how much their yearly expendi- ture is, etc., etc. You see, the?/ know the game of es- pionage by harmless shopkeepers, traders, small busi- ness men, etc., who are to be found in every European country. If only the people would take the trouble to investigate the matter, they would find that many of these " harmless " little shopkeepers spend double and treble the amount of money their businesses earn. The foreign population of Germany is recorded on separate registers and divided into different classes. 90 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL not only according to their social status, income and position, but also according to their intelligence, senti- ments and so on. When war broke out all foreigners in Germany were " mobilised." The list and card- indexes were carefuUy gone over and suitable persons selected. American, Dutch and Swiss ranked amongst the "favourite" (?) nationalities. German friends of the foreigner would be approached. They, in turn, threw out feelers towards the " neutral." If it was a case of " Barkis is willing," and the man had the neces- sary intelligence, he was at once taken in hand and tutored into a naval, military, or political spy (some- times into all three). Foreign subjects, if unsuitable for intelligence work, were frequently persuaded to part with their passports. Only in very rare cases, I think, have whole passports been forged. Why should they be when plenty of au- thentic ones can so easily be bought.? All this work comes under the supervision of Section 11 of the Intelligence Department of the Great General Staff in Berlin. One of the most interesting and illuminating inter- views I had in Berlin was with Herr Rader (or Rader), Secretary to Herr Zimmermann, Permanent Under- Secretary at the Foreign OflSce. At the conclusion of the dinner, Rader lost little time coming to the point. I think that I cannot do better than to record the conversation here. I give it prac- tically verbatim. Rader: Your profession must be intensely interest- ing, Herr Beaufort. I hear you have visited practi- cally all the different theatres of war.? : Hm, yes, rather! Most interesting, I can assure you. It broadens one's point of view, you SPIES AND SPYING — II 91 know, to be able to see different sides of a question. Rader: Hm, yes, quite so, ahem! quite so! But, eh, well, I do not wish to seem impertinent, but do you find it is work that pays? From what I know about these newspaper proprietors, they are not very liberal with their salaries. ; Oh, well, as far as that goes, yes, I think you are right. Now I come to think of it, they do rather underpay us. We ought to have a journalistic trades' union — what ? Rader: Yes, I often wonder when I talk to you chaps, and, of course, I come in contact with a great many journalists in my official capacity (that was a lie; he had little or nothing to do with bona-fide journalists), it strikes me that, considering the amount of energy you expend on your work, the amount of brains it takes to be a good journalist, you are the worst paid profes- sion in the world. Take your own case. A man of your accomplishments (I bow), of your linguistic abili- ties (I blush with modesty! . . . mentally), your ad- dress and your intelligence (I rise and bow and blush . . . mentally ) — well, do not think, pray, that I am exaggerating, but you should be earning at least 5,000 marks (£250) a month, which I am sure you do not. ; (You " register," as they say in cinematogra- phy, incredulity, surprise, wonder, etc.) Then: Really, you know, Herr Rader, I am afraid that you are try- ing what your friend the enemy across the Channel, I believe, describes as " Pulling me by the legs." Five thousand marks a month? (with expression), why, *' lead me to it," as they would say in New York. Rader: I can " lead 3'ou to it," and perhaps even to a great deal more. There are some splendid opportuni- ties these days for " Neutrals," for men of your ability. I will give you a rough idea about the work. Strange 92 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEH. as it will seem to jou, even to this day the majority of people in France, Russia and England, are still abso- lutely ignorant of the real state of affairs, not only in Germany, but also of the military situation in general. They are deliberately deluded by their governments and their Press. We feel convinced that if Germany's cause, Germany's invincibility, Germany's sound and strong condition, were better known abroad this war would soon be ended by public pressure. What can be the object of continuing this dreadful process of mur- der, bloodshed and destruction? As our Chancellor said : " Germany cannot be destroyed." Now, some of our best brains, military, political and economic, have written clear and popular articles on the present situation. Not, mind you, entirely from the German point of view, but in a manner in which any intelligent and reasonable neutral observer would record them if he had the opportunity to see and judge things. There are still plenty of influential and reasonable peo- ple IN France, Russia and England who would assist us in bringing the true facts before their misinformed countrymen. Think this over. If, in principle, you feel inclined to carry out some really interesting, but, above all, some very remunerative work, I will submit the matter to my chief. Of course, this work would in nowise interfere with your present occupation, as the articles are supplied to you, translated and ready for publication. I inquired whether the " influential " and " reason- able people " in France, Russia and England would as- sist me personally in placing the articles, and I was assured they would. From this I concluded that I would be supplied with a list of those " reasonable peo- ple " who were willing to assist Germany. Needless to say, I told them that I did not require any time for SPIES AND SPYING — II 93 thinking the matter over, that I had quite made up my mind to accept the proposal. (I hoped that they would continue their revelations, but in this I was disap- pointed.) " Very well," said Rader ; " Bitterfcld, will you see that he meets von Stein " (whoever that might be), and addressing himself again to me : " I will take the matter up at once, and you will hear from us in a week or so." But, alas ! before the end of the week an unforeseen calamity brought my German voyage of discovery to an untimely end. Shortly after my return to London I saw at one of the night clubs — a favourite rendezvous for those gentry — a " neutral " who I knew for a fact was in the service of the German Government. I reported him to the authorities, but never heard anything further about it. It is unnecessary to add that when these travelling " neutral " journalists receive their final instructions, they are not confined to merely trying to place the German-made articles. On their periodical return to Berlin they are expected to be able to write and give interesting reports on what they saw in the countries they visited. These reports are strictly for the infor- mation of the General Staff. The}^ are not circulated in the Press, thus advertising the fact to the enemy that German investigators have been at work in their coun- try. ^ The manner of procedure in neutral countries is probably better known. German agents who live there, 1 It is only quite recently that the first articles giving a neu- tral's impressions of London and England have appeared in the German Press. 94? BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL have their own private lists of " Friends of the Father- land," very useful in war-time. They know that they cannot travel in the belligerent countries themselves, but of course their hosts can. These men are, as a rule, business men connected with a well-known firm, and are extremely difficult to catch. You should have at every port of embarkation in the United Kingdom officials of every nationality, men who know their own language thoroughly. I have met many Englishmen who speak foreign languages, but mighty few that know enough about them to discover the na- tionality of the man they converse with. Then there are your Consuls. I returned from Ger- many via a neutral country. I presented my passport issued in Berlin (my old one did not conform to certain German regulations, so I had to change it) to the Brit- ish Consul. I paid my two or three shillings, I forget how much. He hardly looked at the photograph, stamped and signed the back of my passport, and that was all. I think the whole formality took about three minutes. Now that is simply asking for trouble. You must have Britishers, I mean born Britishers, as Consuls wherever they have the authority to vise passports for embarkation to England. You cannot expect a neutral Consul to take the same care and interest in investigat- ing the bona-fides of alien travellers as an Englishman would.-^ Don't be so afraid of stepping on the toes of neutrals or even of a neutral government. They will get over it. To them it is not a matter of life and death. If you are too considerate of other people's feelings, it may have disastrous results. It may be a matter of life and death to many of your countrymen. Is it 1 This was written before the Holzapfel episode. SPIES AND SPYING — II 95 not better to suspect, to inconvenience a hundred inno- cent neutrals and so-called " Britishers," persons of German descent, than that one British Tommy, one British woman or child should suffer or die? If I have a house and my guests do not like my servants, my meals, or the way I run it, well, let them depart. The same applies to England. Those who do not like the conditions of entry or of living here, who grumble at any little sacrifices or inconveniences, well ... let them stay away. During the first year of the war the regulations and restrictions with regard to the landing and embarkation of aliens at your ports were so lax, that for all one knew England might have been in statu quo. CHAPTER XIII SPIES AND SPYING IH THE Hotel Adlon, Berlin's principal hotel, is a regu- lar clearing-house for spies, spy-hunters, amateur spies, and amateur spy-hunters. I do not think that I have ever, since the war, spent so many interesting hours anywhere as at the Adlon Hotel, after 4 p. m., watching the various cliques, sometimes par distance^ sometimes at very close quarters. A large sprinkling of officers is nearly always present. Their tables occupy " strategic positions " in the Court. Many of them belong to the Intelligence Department of the General Staff. The broad red braid on their trousers inspires, of course, confidence and respect. The natural conclusion would be, at least with neutrals, that a General Staff Officer is above any description of spying. But beware! With few exceptions every foreign j ournalist, business man, etc., is an amateur spy-hunter. In order to make a capture he will draw every possible cover, and it will not be the fault of himself or of his imagination if it is a blank. Everybody suspects everybody else, and, under the guise of neutrality, or even by shamming anti-German sentiments, they try to draw you out. The valet of your floor knows, of course, every scrap of paper, book, map, note, you have in your possession. So do the various other secret agents, detectives, or whatever they may be called, who rummage through your luggage and open your letters, both coming and Jn tilt' Polish fiiiJifhuf zones. Man on left of jyirtnrp vns shot at the moment of re-loaflin»vl5 German Tars WixmxG a Wreath ok Mixes ARorxo Miss Britannia GERMAN WOMEN 111 man officer called me up on the telephone ; she seemed to be in a great state of mind. " I am in awful trouble," she explained, " I don't know where my husband is, or rather I do know, but I can't find the place on the map. Do tell me where it is ! " And then she began to spell some name that sounded like a combination of Przemysl, and some of your Welsh names. I could not make it out. The only thing was to taxi up to her house and help in the search, which I did. After half an hour we found it. The name of the place was " Mntereczerem " (spelling guaranteed); it is situated about ten miles north-west of Nicolaiken, in East Prussia. She was greatly relieved (and so was I). The same lady some time ago travelled a day and a night, in slow trains, in order to catch a glimpse of her husband at one of the stations where he had to change. She saw him there for about half an hour. I know that a great many women are doing — or rather did — the same. The Government soon stopped this practice, as it gave an indication of the place to which troops were going, and the information might reach the enemy. In every public place all over the country notices are posted warning every German, whether soldier or ci- vilian, man or woman, against discussing their relatives' whereabouts, their letters, plans, etc., because — so it runs — " spies of both sexes mingle freely amongst the public, and the most innocent remark, the merest sug- gestion, which might seem quite harmless to any of you, may cause the death of thousands of our soldiers." It struck me very forcibly how almost fanatically pro-German English and American women, married to Germans, have become. All are thorough converts to the German cause. I am aware of several instances from personal knowledge. 112 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL There is, for example, the American Baroness von Below mentioned above. (Her husband, General von Below, successfully conducted several important oper- ations in Poland.) Her outgoing mail every week runs into hundreds of letters, mostly to America. The ma- jority of them are written by her personally. " I try to write ten letters every day, explaining the German cause to my friends at home," she told me. " It is the least we women can do, while our husbands are daily risking their lives." At Munich I met an old friend, also an American lady, who a few years ago married General Baron von Nagel, now chief of the Bavarian General Staff. For hours and hours we argued, and it was not her fault that I did not entirely change my mind about Germany's position in this war, and her share in its origin. She and her mother, also American by birth, but married to the Bavarian Count Frohberg, conducted a regular private Press bureau, employing something like ten girl ste- nographers and typewriters. I was inundated with their typewritten articles. One of them begins : " Has England hypnotised America ? " Another one starts with the query : " Is Germany a greater menace to the world's peace than England, this lost tribe of Israel, whose hatred of the whole world is proverbial .f* " And again, in another one I read : " England hates Amer- ica. She despises France. The English occupation of Egypt and the Fashoda affair were not calculated to draw England closer to France. Russia is the bete noire of England." One of the articles, for American consumption of course, speaks of a cable sent by Eng- land to Japan, thanking her for her aid in sinking the German ships off the Falkland Islands. " Forty-three ships against five ! And they rang their bells and hung out their flags, for it was a famous victory ! " GERMAN WOMEN 113 The conclusion, though, of most of such diatribes lets the cat out of the bag: " To starve Germany, to make her a pariah among nations, what a crime against civilisation! America can stop this terrible war by refusing to sell arms to the belligerents, and by not assisting England to paralyse the world's commerce. Is there no Great Physician who can heal this malady of nations, and stop the de- population of Germany, England and France? " I have quoted from a few of these writings to show how thoroughly the German atmosphere does its work, and with what eager enthusiasm foreign-born women in Germany have taken up her cause. These examples are by no means the exception, they are the rule. At the house of a well-known German official, I met a lady who had recently lost her son. With great pride she passed round, for general perusal, a letter received from his captain. I wanted, discreetly, to pass it on when it reached me, but was urged to read it. It was an interesting epistle, and the conclusion was very characteristic of the curiously mixed German tempera- ment. The captain's letter ended with: " I laid the photograph of his fiancee and some flow- ers on his heart before we closed the grave." It was what she described as a " divine " and glorious account, and I am sure it afforded much comfort to the otherwise heart-broken mother. I think " complex " is a very mild description of the German character. Speaking about letters reminds me of a very grim story about a certain epistle, alleged to have been writ- ten by a German nurse to the mother of a French wounded soldier. The copy that was shown me read: 114 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL "Berlin. . . . " Madame, " Your son is seriously wounded, and is in a critical condition. His life depends entirely on my care. " While attending him my mind runs back to a battle- field somewhere in France. My own son, slightly wounded, was lying there, but instead of being nursed and cared for as your son is at present, he was killed by a revolver bullet from one of your cowardly com- patriots, perhaps even by the very man now under my care. I am not a saint, I am only human. I want to revenge my dead son. It is easy. To-night an over- dose of morphia will do justice for the death of my boy. I am sending you enclosed your son's last good-bye. "M. W. " Red Cross Nurse. " P.S. — Madame, your son is safe. He will be well within two weeks. I have merely wanted to make you live for a minute the long hours of inconsolable mourn- ing which will now be my life." CHAPTER XVI HUNTING WITH THE CAMERA IT will seem strange, but it is a fact, that the man with a camera in the German lines is not treated half as badly as he is on allied territory. In France he is looked on as a dangerous criminal, and degenerates into a hunted pariah. (I am speaking from personal knowledge on both fronts.) In Germany, if you have a permit, which is not at all difficult to obtain if you represent a neutral paper, you can practically photograph any one or anything — with two notable exceptions. Anything connected with the Navj'^ or with Zeppelins is taboo. You must not show a camera anywhere near the North Sea coast, the naval bases, or the Kiel Canal. If you have no permit, as was my sad case, the best thing is to act as if you had one, and it is a hundred to one that nobody will bother you. From the oldest General — not even excepting Hin- denburg — to the youngest recruit, all soldiers dearly love to have their pictures taken. If the photographer happens to be a neutral, so much the better. In that case they combine duty and patriotism with pleasure. Because surely any photograph of the German Army must impress neutral countries with Germany's invinci- bility. My harvest of snapshots was prolific. It would have needed a wagon-load of films to take all the scenes I was invited to immortalise. Every one you came in contact with had something " sehr interessant," a 115 116 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL " priceless " study to show you. Of course, nine times out of ten his own effigy was included. I soon found that I would have to husband my re- serve of films, so, for every real photograph I took, I " snapshotted " at least ten others — in theory ! I got quite expert in going through the feint of focussing, setting, snapping the camera and turning the film. The plains of Poland are strewn with cards and addresses of soldiers and officers, who think they have been photo- graphed, and are still waiting (and, I fear, will con- tinue to do so) for the " proofs." But I will say they were a most obliging lot. Pris- oners or transports were halted; guns were placed in position ; travelling field-kitchens or bakeries were laboriously turned to the right side of the sun (if any) ; market-places were cleared of uninteresting civilians ; shells were taken from their baskets ; and one most obliging officer even went so far as to fire a few rounds of the field-gun (77), so as to enable me to photograph it " in action." Curiously enough, the pose he assumed betokened a greater affection for the camera than for the gun! I photographed a spy, a Polish Jew, who had been caught cutting the telephone wires to headquarters. I did not mean to, but, absent-mindedly, I went through the real manipulations instead of the sham ones. They suggested I should photograph him while being shot ; but I drew the line at that, I am sure greatly to the disappointment of the officer commanding the firing- squad. Then there was the meeting between the German Em- peror and the Crown Prince near Longwy. I photo- graphed them both, a somewhat foolhardy thing to do, considering that I had no permit ! Father and son were standing together watching some French prisoners HUNTING WITH THE CAMERA 117 march past. From where I stood I had quite a good view of mj royal quarry, but I was anxious to get the Crown Prince's very intellectual profile. I flatter my- self I succeeded very fairly well. But, as the shutter clicked, the Crown Prince started, and, pointing his riding-whip at me, shouted: "Who is that?" My escort, a Colonel, who, of course, took it for granted that I had a permit, sprang to attention, and explained that I was a distinguished neutral journalist, and a per- sonal acquaintance of General Baron von Nagel.^ Though I knew I was perfectly safe — the Colonel was responsible for my being there, and, naturally, he was not going to minimise my importance — I will ad- mit that I had that peculiar feeling down my spine which makes you wonder " what is going to happen next." It was by no means always plain sailing. It is an old but tried truism that if you don't have a set-back now and again, you begin to think that the world was built for your private amusement. I very nearly landed in prison for photographing a couple of Zeppe- lins. All my films were confiscated except one, an un- exposed roll. But I managed, after the rolls had been counted, to substitute that one for an exposed film, and in that way saved a few Zeppelin pictures. All persons who have taken photographs or moving pictures anywhere within the war zones must have three sets printed, and submit these to the Photograph Censor Department of the Great General Staff in Berlin. 1 General von Nagel was at that time chief of the Bavarian General Staff. Some eight years ago I used to know his wife, an American lady, very well, and she kindly gave me a letter of in- troduction to her husband. I had not met him at the time; in fact, some hitches in my progress, which necessitated a sudden change of climate, prevented me from presenting that letter, and, alas! a great many others. 118 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL There they are inspected and stamped, and either passed for publication or refused. An interesting item of this department is that the head of it is also the senior part- ner of one of the largest cinema companies in Berlin, Messrs. Messter & Co. On the official instructions you receive, that firm is recommended for developing your films and plates. Herr Messter, through his position on the General Staff, is able to obtain free of charge for his firm — and makes a point of doing so — copies of all photographs and films obtained by neutral pho- tographers. Just to annoy Herr Messter, I took this matter up, acting on behalf of an American cinema operator. I claimed that that man ought to receive a certain per- centage of the proceeds derived by Messrs. Messter & Co. from the sale of his films to German users. The answer was that the films taken by neutral photogra- phers are only passed for use in neutral countries, and that the privilege of exhibiting those pictures in Ger- many was a German prerogative! Moreover, that he had had his films developed free of charge. Some of my films were submitted to the General Staff Censor, and, let me get it off my mind at once, it was most galling to see many of my hard-earned snapshots reproduced in, and paid for hy, German periodicals. I made a point of finding out whether they had been gra- tuitously distributed through the censor's office. This was not the case. They were sold by the firm of Mess- ter & Co. to the trade. Business is business — even at such a high-class insti- tution as the General Staff. But why should I grumble? It is a source of the greatest satisfaction to me that neither the General Staff nor Herr Messter ever laid eyes on the majority HUNTING WITH THE CAMERA 119 of my films ! They were developed after my return to London by my very able agents, The Sport and General Press Agency. To any one looking for excitement, I can thoroughly recommend " hunting " with a camera in the war-zones. CHAPTER XVII " SPIRITUAL HUMOUR " ( GERMAN VARIETY) I MUST record a few examples of German war humour and sentiment. Wherever I went in Ger- many, be it to the Eastern front, Berlin, Kiel, Ham- burg, etc., I was regaled with " proofs of Germany's unquenchable spirit." Two Berliners are discussing the war. One has heard a rumour that China is going to join the Allies. " Heavens ! " exclaims his friend, " is the whole world anxious to become German ? " Any railroad station. — Fritz has spent all his money and wants to touch Hans for half a mark to buy some beer and sandwiches. " Can't be done," said Hans. " All I have got left is a five-mark note, and I am sav- ing that till I get to London." In front of a book-store, Unter den Linden: In the window is exhibited a photograph of the Kaiser and the Czar embracing each other. Says a cobbler's assistant : " Wouldn't I like to be in Wilhelm's place now ! " In another book-store photographs of the Kaiser and King George are displayed, surmounted by the legend: " Cousins." *' Well, well, Wilhelm," says a little red-faced woman, *' I must say, you have got some fine relations. I'd be ashamed of them." Of course, the most popular stories are those about 120 « SPIRITUAL HUMOUR '♦ 121 Hindenburg. When the General returned to his head- quarters at Lotzen, after the Battle of the Masurian Lakes, a large crowd of soldiers and civilians acclaimed him as their deliverer, and clamoured for a few words. The General stood up in his car, and, pointing his finger upwards, gravely said: " Thank Him. He did it." One day Hindenburg issued an Army Order stating that any one who brought him a Russian Hag would receive a thousand marks. A few days later a Jewish soldier appeared before the General, and delivered a Russian standard. " Well done, my son," said the Gen- eral, as he pinned the Iron Cross on the brave private, " and here are your thousand marks." The Jew looked at the thousand-mark note, and then timidly asked whether the General would please give it him in smaller change. The General wanted to know why, as he could not spend it in the trenches. " Ah ! " replied the Jew, " you see, Excellency, the Russian who sold me the flag is waiting downstairs for his hundred marks." When the Russian Generals heard about Hinden- burg's promise of prize money for captured flags, they did the same. While Rennenkampf was in East Prus- sia, a large number of German flags were brought to him. They were beautiful affairs of black, blue or white plush, with gold lettering and gold and silver tassels. One day a Russian officer, who knew German, noticed these flags, and, when he read the inscriptions, burst into fits of uncontrollable laughter. The German " regimental standards," for which Ren- nenkampf had been paying his thousand roubles a piece, turned out to be emblems of various East Prussian 122 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL " Gesang Verein " ("choral societies"), such as one may find in every little village, every hamlet, all over the Fatherland. At Insterhurg, in East Prussia, where I risked a shave, the barber had decorated one of the chairs with a placard, " In this chair General von Hindenburg sat and had his hair cut." I sat in the same chair, but all I can say is, that if the General's hair was cut as atrociously as I was shaved, I think he wiU wait till after his " triumphal march " into London for the next. There is another Hindenburg Jew story which is very popular. A Jew was recommended for the Iron Gross. Hindenburg thought he would have his little joke with the man, and, incidentally, test the strength of his commercial instincts as compared with his patriotism. " Now tell me, comrade," asked Hindenburg, " which would you rather have — the Iron Cross or one hundred marks ? " The Jew pondered for a second or two, and then inquired what the intrinsic value of the Iron Cross might be. " Oh, about eight marks, I think," replied Hinden- burg. " Well, Excellency," said the Jew seriously, " then I'll have the Iron Cross and ninety-two marks, if you please." Of course, there are the usual stories which are inter- national. At any rate, I have heard the two following ones in both camps. One of the commonest relates to the scale of payment for snipers. For every private they kill they receive one mark, for a subaltern two marks, for a captain three marks, a colonel five marks. " And how much for a General.? " you perhaps inno- Englishman in Hell 'T^^o Zeppelins, no Krupp Hou-itzers; no submarines'. Why, I must be in Heaven!' " SPIRITUAL HUMOUR " 123 cently inquire. The answer is : " Two weeks C.B. ! " (" confined to barracks "). Then there is the " grateful prisoner " story. Two men have been taken prisoner. Impressed by, and full of gratitude for, the splendid treatment they have received (instead of being tortured to death as they had been led to expect), they beg their ^ cap- tors to allow them to return. They promise to come back at night with at least a hundred others. The officer in charge, of course, trusts them, and at nightfall the two grateful prisoners promptly return with their hundred compatriots. A few days after England had declared war, a letter addressed to John Bull, London, was returned by the German postal authorities with the legend, " Firm dis- solved." At every railroad station in Germany you can always find a large number of officious female helpers. One of these, a young woman anxious to do her bit for the Fatherland, goes up to a wounded soldier, and asks him whether there is anything she can do for him. Would he like another pillow, would he like a sandwich, would he like some coffee, tea, milk, water.'' But our wounded keeps on shaking his head. Finally, the Friiulein asks whether she may sponge his face with vinegar. In exasperation the offer is accepted. When she has fin- ished he says : " Now, Fraulein, I did not want to spoil your pleasure, but you are exactly the seventeenth that has been washing my face during the last hour." The night England declared war on Germany, several 1 Fill in nationality according as to which side you are on. lU BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL very excited Englishmen rushed to the Friedrichstrasse Station, and asked the stationmaster the quickest way to get to London. " Well, gentlemen," said that suave official, " if I were you I would go and inquire at the General Staff. They are sure to know." Says Thomas Atkins to a few of his brothers-in-arms : " Come, lads, let's go and starve the Germans out. We'll let them take us prisoner." A German N.C.O. has been taken prisoner by a Rus- sian N.C.O. He tries to regain his liberty by bribery. He offers one mark. The Russian shakes his head. No. Two marks ? No. Three marks ? The Russian remains adamant. Five marks? Then the Russian says : " No ; but I'll let you go and give you five roubles into the bargain, if you'll take me with you." Two Berliners are sitting in Unter den Linden at night. " For heaven's sake, Hans, don't talk so much ; people will take you for a foreigner." An old proverb has been changed, or rather amended, as follows: " Speech is silver ; silence is golden, but lying is British." The inscriptions on some of the railroad cars are often quite amusing, and ... telling. On a Bavarian troop train near Nuremberg was written : " Young Lions ! Do not rouse." (" Feeding is per- mitted.") Same: " Be careful ! Bavarians ! " « SPIRITUAL HUMOUR " 185 There is hardlj a car or compartment that is without some inscription or other. Usually : " Nach Paris," " Nach London," or " Nach Petersburg." On a car at Allenstein Station was announced : " Next month great public auction. The skin of the Czar." (A case of dividing the bear's skin before it is caught.) One inscription announced : " Change of Name. Formerly * William Peaceful & Co.,' now ' Ironeater & Son.'" ^ A very popular joke is the one about German diplo- mats. The story goes that George and William had finally come to terms. " All right," says William, " you give me back my Colonies, pay me so much war indemnity, and I'll with- draw my armies from Belgium and France." " Right-o ! " says George, and sits down to write out the agreement. As he is about to append his signature to the document, the Kaiser suddenly exclaims : " Hold on a minute. There is one little clause I forgot. Of course, England must agree to take over all our diplomats." Thereupon George in great anger throws down his pen and replies: "Nothing doing! What do you take me for.?" — adding that, if William wants those temis, he prefers to go on fighting. (And so thej^ did.) ^ An amusing story is told about a Turco, who was taken prisoner early in the war. When he came to the iThe author of " J'accuse" tells this story, too, in his book. I hope he will take my word for it that I am not plagiarizing. I heard the anecdote in Germany long before his book came out. 126 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL prison camp, evidently never having seen, let alone slept in, a bed, he refused to lie down. It was only with the greatest difficulty, accompanied by physical persuasion, that they finally got him under the blankets. The next morning, long after all the other prisoners had risen, our friend the Turco was still in bed, and he positively refused to get up. The only answer he made (with a broad smile of satisfaction on his face) to the different expostulations of his fellow-prisoners and guards was the ejaculation: "Paradise, Paradiso!" I came across a most typical example of that curious mixture of morbid sentiment and humour in one of the hospitals in Berlin. Passing through one of the wards I noticed on the shelf above one of the wounded the photograph of a French private. Thinking that he was a Frenchman, I stopped and spoke to him. But he shook his head, and the doctor explained that he was a German. " What about that French photograph ? " I inquired. The explanation was to be found on the back. After the French private's name was written: " He died a hero's death on 18.12.14 through me." (The italics are mine.) And that is what Germans call " Geistiger Humour " — i.e., " Spiritual humour ! " PART II MY TRIP TO THE EASTERN FRONT AND VISIT TO HINDENBURG CHAPTER XVIII PRELIMINARIES MY TRIP TO the; !EASTERJ^ FRONT AND VISIT TO HINDENBURG "r I iHIS is all you will need in Germany," said young A Hindenburg, nephew of the great General, as he gave me a letter of introduction to his illustrious uncle. And he was right. That letter proved an Open Sesame wherever I went in Germany. It would be interesting to know how many people read it (it was open, of course) before I finally presented it to Hinden- burg himself. The only difficulties I met with occurred in Berlin. There, what with the bickerings and jealousies between the Foreign Office and the General Staff, I was kept waiting while the weeks slipped by. At the General Staff, as soon as they had seen my letter to Hindenburg they were quite agreeable, but the Foreign Office was not. They wanted me to serve the usual term of three months' apprenticeship, customary for all neutral journalists. They wanted to make certain that I was really "neutral" (read: pro-German). As Baron Mumm, of the Foreign Office, put it: " We want to know 3'ou a little bit better, and, ahem ! see something of your work." When my permits for the Eastern front remained elusive I called on those two ever-valiant allies of all intrepid and adventurous journalists — " Cheek and Chance " — and decided that, pass or no pass, I would 129 130 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL go and present my letter to General Hindenburg, or . . . land in gaol in the attempt ! I must explain here that the whereabouts of Hinden- burg's headquarters were by no means as common knowledge in Germany, as British or French head- quarters are in England and France. It is a carefully- guarded secret, and I am sure that not one German in ten thousand knew in those days where Hindenburg really was. To go off in search of Hindenburg along an eight-hundred-mile-front would be like looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack, and be, to say the least, a somewhat dangerous wild-goose chase. I was up against a difficult proposition. To ask any one in the know outright would have been very unwise, not to say downright foolhardy ; and, any- how, would not have had the desired effect. Newspaper correspondents, whether German or neutral, were just as ignorant of Hindenburg's whereabouts as the great majority of people. With the exception of von Wiegand, I doubt whether any neutral journalist has ever been to Hindenburg's headquarters, or at least had, at that time. I had to resort to strategy, and I regret to say that it took the shape of French champagne, which, as I soon discovered, was the most popular beverage amongst the officers of the Berlin General Staff. You could propose to an officer from the War Office or from one of the line regiments a bottle of Rhine wine, a cocktail, a whisky and soda, or even beer; but " Generalstabler " and " Die Garde " would look askance at such common drinks. Nothing but French vintage would do for them. But it was money well spent. Some of the most interesting and, let me quickly add, some of.the most truthful information I obtained PRELIMINARIES 131 was over a bottle of Perrier-Jouet, Pol Roger, Pom- mery, and other French wines. If ever it needed proof, I found it in Germany that : " In vino Veritas." The fates were kind to me. I think Dame For- tune must have a sneaking regard for journalism. Maybe it is a sign of the times — " It pays to adver- tise." After a week of night sittings — some of them all- night affairs — one of my many esteemed guides and advisers, Major Herwarth von Bitterfeld, of the Gen- eral Staff, revealed to me- one night in the small hours the magic name of Hindenburg's headquarters. True, it was not until we had drained the third bottle of Pol Roger ; but, then, what are three bottles amongst . . . enemies ! I knew that Hindenburg had been at the Fortress of Posen for some time, so in the course of conversation I mentioned the magnificent old castle there as such a fit and appropriate place for Hindenburg. " Why, man," roared the now genial Major, forget- ting that my rooms were flanked by occupied bedrooms, and that the hour was 3.30 a. m., " I think you m-m-must be d-d-drunk, or are you a-ssleep.'' You're a fine sort of wideawake journalist. Hindenburg left Posen months ago. At present he is at Fortress Boyen, near that dirty little hole, Lotzen. No castle there, I can tell you." The Major was in that happy condition, the border- land between sober and drunk. Perhaps it was a good thing, because otherwise he might have seen me catch my breath and noticed the sudden gleam in my eyQ. It may not strike j'ou as affording cause for so much satisfaction, but, all I can say is, that if you had tried for six weeks to learn the name of a certain place, and 132 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL especially one of extreme importance, well ... I was satisfied. " They do keep changing about," I remarked in an offhand way. "Rather," acquiesced the Major. "They have to. The whole Eastern front is simply honeycombed with spies. We learnt from several sources that the Rus- sians would rather see Hindenburg shot than take a hundred thousand prisoners. They believe that he is the keystone, the very heart and brains of our Eastern campaign." " And isn't he? " I inquired. (This last remark sug- gested hidden possibilities.) The Major looked wise — that is, as wise as it was possible for him to look in his condition. He lifted his glass to me, tried to wink one eye, but could not make up his mind which, so winked both, and slowly said : " Eh, speaking about our friend the enemy, the Russians, here is our daily toast to them, ' Long life to Grand Duke Nicholas,' or, as our Irish friends would say, ' May his shadow never grow less.' " After having drained his glass, he wiped his mouth and moustache with the back of his hand, and then settled down a bit deeper into my best arm-chair. " Hindenburg is a great General, but Ludendorff is — his Chief of Staff," he pronounced cryptically. " If the truth were known, you would find that Ludendorff is the real brains of our Eastern campaign." Alas ! at this juncture the Major crossed the borderline, and not many minutes later was snoring merrily. I wanted to get rid of him now, as I had to plan my Eastern cam- paign. I telephoned downstairs to the " American Bar," and when I heard that some of the Major's cronies were still down there, asked that some one should be sent up to fetch him. Two of them came, but an- other " brimful " hour elapsed before I got rid of them. PRELIMINARIES 133 I learnt the next morning that they continued the ses- sion downstairs in the bar till nearly 7 a. m. And now to work. " Feste Boyen," " Lotzen," " Feste Boyen," " Lotzen," where the devil may they be? Truth to tell, I had never heard of either of them, but the excellent German General Staff maps soon helped me out. Boyen is a small fortress in the Masurian Lake district, near the town of Lotzen, and in close proximity to the Polish frontier. They lay at quite a respectable distance from Berlin. I discovered that if I could board one of the special Eastern trains, running nightly from Berlin to Allenstein — a ten hours' trip — I would then be within about seventy miles of the East- ern headquarters. Once at Allenstein, I would have to trust to luck once more and either hire a motor, per- suade some one to give me a lift, or manage to steal on board one 6f the military trains. Then I went to bed and slept the sleep of the success- ful, the sweetest sleep of all. CHAPTER XIX BEE.MN ALLENSTEIN MEETING WITH YOUNG VON BETHMANN-HOLLWEG ARREST IN THE FORTRESS OF POSEN ... IN PYJAMAS IN the afternoon I went shopping. I bought all that was necessary for a winter trip into Poland. True, I already had a fair outfit, but, of course, I could not be seen leaving the hotel with any luggage. I would not have gone far! •! placed my purchases in a suit-case and drove to the Friedrichstrasse Station, where I de- posited it in the cloak-room. At night I dined at the hotel, not omitting to dress as usual, went to the hotel office and engaged a seat for one of the theatres and proceeded thither. The Eastern Express was scheduled to leave at 11 p. M. At 10 :40 I telephoned from a public call-office to the hotel that I had met an old friend and was going to spend a few days with him. The Friedrichstrasse Station is the Charing Cross and Victoria combined of Berlin, only still more im- portant. There are few military trains that do not either start from there or pass through. That is the reason why it is one of the best guarded stations in Germany and one of the hardest to get into. When I alighted from my taxi at the Friedrichstrasse Station, there were a number of soldiers standing close to the entrance. They all jumped into position and 134 BERLIN — ALLENSTEIN 135 saluted. That gave me a sudden inspiration. Though I was not wearing a uniform, of course, I had the next best thing to it. I wore my long British-made auto- mobile coat, buttoned high a la militaire, a green peak- less cap with a chin strap (quickly lowered), and on it the large badge of a neutral coat-of-arms. " Here, you ! " I bawled at them in my best imitation of a German lieutenant's tone of voice. The effect was dynamic. All five ran towards me, saluted, clicked their heels, and shouted in chorus : " Zu Befchl ! " I don't know to this day wh}^ I did not burst out in a fit of convulsive laughter. The situation appealed to my sense of humour. I took out my cloak-room ticket, gave it to the nearest one, placed a mark on top of it (one shilling; the charge is ten pfennigs — i.e., a frac- tion of a penny), and, still acting my part, said: " Go to the cloak-room and get my bag, pay for it, keep the change, but be damned quick about it." " Zu Befehl ! " shouted the man again, and there was some- thing triumphant in the tone of his voice. There was envy in the eyes of his less fortunate comrades. He saluted scientifically'^, turned right about in a manner that showed his perfect training, and then went off at the double for my bag. Though I saw at least a dozen other passengers near the luggage office, " my man " was back in the twinkling of an eye, and, saluting again, asked what my orders were. I discovered suddenly that I had forgotten to send an important despatch, so I went to the telegraph office, leaving a hundred-mark note in the hands of my over-awed private (by the banknote, of course), after having shouted to him " Erster Allen- stein " (" First class, Allenstein "). Five minutes later he met me with the ticket. I could have hugged him, German or no German, and almost felt like telling him to keep the change. I soon discovered that my ticket 136 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL was what is called a " Militarbillet." Of course, I was much surprised at that, because I never told the man to ask for a military ticket ; but it was too late to change now, so we passed through the gate, taking the salutes of ticket-puncher, two policemen and various soldiers. The soldier deposited my bag in a first-class sleeping compartment, saluted, and wanted to be off. But not so hasty, my friend. I liked the look of that guards- man; it gave me an appearance of authority, not to say respectability, to have him standing there so straight and respectful. I thought it might be a good plan to keep him in attendance till my train left. That was supposed to be in less than ten minutes, but one never knows in war-time. So I told him that I had one or two letters to write which I wanted him to post for me. I kept him there for nearly twenty minutes while I wrote letters to imaginary people, and also gave myself several opportunities of hearing that short, crisp, busi- nesslike, and very welcome : " Zu Befehl, Herr Offi- zier ! " Shortly after 11 p. m., on a cold March night, I left Berlin on my way to see Hindenburg. " How far would I get.? " was a question which frequently entered my mind. Dame Fortune still seemed to favour me. At the next station (Berlin — Exchange) several offi- cers boarded the train. One of them, a very young " Fahnrich " {i.e.. Ensign) entered my compartment. Of course, he noticed at once my evening clothes, my military-looking great-coat, and the badge on my cap, and — like a German — was not going to take any • chances. (The German reasoning in rendering military salutes is somewhat on the following lines : " When in doubt, presume he's a General ; you may be wrong, but BERLIN — ALLENSTEIN 137 it's better to treat a Captain as a General, than a Gen- eral as a Captain.") So he saluted, clicked his heels, bowed and begged my thousand pardons for having to disturb me ; but, " if I would graciously permit it," his sleeping-car ticket assigned to him the upper berth of my compartment. Of course, I did graciously permit it, and soon put him at his ease. But though he was soon reassured that I was not a General, I made a point of showing him my letter of introduction to von Hinden- burg, which had almost the same effect. He jumped up again, apologised, clicked his heels, etc., and inquired whether I was sure I did not mind his remaining there, etc., etc. He left me, evidently to tell his friends about it, and a little later there came a procession of seven of them to the door of my compartment, to pay — please don't laugh — their respects. One after another they stood in the narrow opening, saluted, clicked their heels so as to make their spurs ring, and, in short snappy words said : " Erlaube die Ehre mich vorzustellen, von Plewe " (" I have the honour to present myself, von Plewe"), and off he marched to make room for the next, who repeated to a word the same formula. In that way I met young von Bethmann-Hollweg, cousin of the German Chancellor. Be it said right here, I found him a very decent fellow. There was no dining or restaurant car on that train (most of them had been transformed into ambulance cars), but, nevertheless, we found conviviality in spirits. Purely as a matter of precaution against the cold, I had amongst my pro- visions a large bottle of old French cognac. I little thought when I bought it in the morning that scarcely twelve hours later it would begin its career of usefulness. We sat up till after two a. m. — Plewe, von Bethmann, young Freiherr von , and another officer whose 138 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL name I have forgotten. My bottle was soon emptied, but was replaced by one from a parcel — a " Liebes- gabe " ("love-gift") which a pretty admirer had sent to von Plewe. They had been on four days' leave, and were now rejoining their regiment. I asked them whether they were by any chance pass- ing through " Lotzen," and it is a good thing that my voice did not reveal all the anxiety that was in my heart. Alas ! no ; they were only going as far as Allenstein, and from there were continuing by car to Ortelsburg. Lotzen was in the opposite direction. What a pity ! It would have been so pleasant to travel all the way in such congenial company. They assured me that I would have no difficulty at Allenstein in finding suitable transport to Lotzen, as there were always numerous cars passing up and down to headquarters ; and if none of these could take me, there were also frequent military trains. " Of course," von Bethmann concluded, " any one in your position " (I could not help smiling at this — mentally, of course) "won't have the slightest diffi- culty in obtaining permission to travel by any convey- ance that is available." Needless to say, I did not sleep much that night. First, because of the excitement of the adventure; sec- ondly, because I wanted to see as much as I could of the places we passed through ; thirdly, because — well, never mind the third reason. We arrived at the fortress of Posen at 4 a. m. As we had half an hour to wait, I thought a little walk might be interesting and beneficial! I slipped my great-coat over my pyjamas, thrust my bare feet in my pumps, and a minute later was out on the platform. Posen was at the time, and for that matter still is, one of the most important points in the German lines At Allenstein Station I'on Bethmann-HoUweg, nepheic of the Chancellor, center, Lieutenant von Pleive, right BERLIN — ALLENSTEIN 139 of communication. It is a fomiidable fortress and the railhead of a number of strategic railroads from east, west, north and south. All communications with the Eastern front pass through Posen. Lines from Breslau (and through Breslau to Galicia), from Berlin, Frankfurt, Stettin, Thorn, Danzig and Konigsberg meet here. It is, so to speak, the point of distribution for men and material for the Eastern front. Now that Germany has pene- trated further into Russia, and is able to use several other points d'appui, Posen is not as vital a spot as in those earlier days. Needless to say that it was most zealously guarded against spies and " accidents " of any kind. The Germans believe in the old axiom that an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. Foreigners were rarely permitted to visit Posen. The few who did had to furnish themselves with numerous permits and passes. Every track of the large station was occupied by military trains, mostly filled with troops. One train of nearly forty trucks was loaded exclusively with auto- mobiles. What an eloquent story the different freight- cars told. There were very few German ones amongst them. Most of them bore French and Belgian names — Lille, Maubeuge, Brussels, Dinant, Liege, Anvers — all bearing the usual legend of so many " Hommes " and so many " Chevaux." All appearances pointed to the fact that Hindenburg was once more shuffling his armies about the chess-board Poland. That is the place I found myself at one March morn- ing about 4 A. M. I had felt somewhat tempted to invite my fellow- traveller, the young ensign, to accompany me. (It is 140 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL always well to be properly chaperoned in such places as Posen when short of permits.) But considering that it was his last night in bed, I had not the heart to wake him up and drag him out. I thought of borrowing his helmet, and tried it on ; but, alas ! it was about three sizes too smaE, and stuck on the back of my head like the familiar monkey cap. About a hundred yards from the platform I noticed a large electric sign : " Restauration." I thought that a cup of hot coffee might be an excellent " chaser " of my train-sickness, and before long I was blowing over a cup of the welcome brew. It came near to being the most expensive cup of coffee I had ever touched. The waiting-room was filled with soldiers and pre- sented a picture worthy of the brush of a De Neuville or a Detaille. The scene was interesting: Soldiers of all ranks, ages, and branches filled the large hall. Every one of them was in full field kit, and the majority still wore small nosegays on their helmets, in their button-holes, and sometimes even in the muzzle of their rifles. I did not omit to look at their shoulder-straps, just for the sake of curiosity, and discovered that they belonged to the 21st, 22nd and 25th Infantry Brigades and the 63rd and the 157th Cavalry Brigades. They seemed quite cheerful, and several of them were singing in quartette or quintette a song telling of the future meeting in the Vaterland ! A strange thing I noticed was the entire absence of beer. The strongest drink any grizzled paterfamilias was drinking was lem- onade or soda-water. Naturally I at once jumped to the conclusion : " Aha ! shortage." But I was wrong. When in an offhand manner I ordered a glass of " Miinchener," the waiter promptly carried out my order. I was near a group of sergeants and saw them BERLIN — ALLENSTEIN 141 casting envious eyes at the frothing mug. Calling one of them over, I inquired about this curious phenomenon of Germans drinking lemonade. He soon explained it to me. Except at the front — that is, anywhere in the firing-line — soldiers cannot buy a drop of alcohol of any kind. " Do you know," he said, " that I have not had a drop of beer for nearly a month? You see, in Poland we can only get it by buying a whole barrel. Sometimes we club together, but we have to pay six marks (six shillings) for the cask alone. This money is refunded if the barrel is returned in good condition to the brewery. You can imagine what chance there is of that when all available space for transport is re- quired for the wounded, or for goods that need re- pairing." Of course, he had an ulterior motive in telling me all this, and it soon came out. Smacking his lips for the hundredth time, he continued : " Ahem ! might I ask a favour? Would you be so kind as to order another glass of beer for yourself, and — ahem ! — permit me to drink it ? " And at this he tried to slip a small coin (ten pfennigs) into my hand, explaining that of course he would pay for the beer himself. The situation tickled my sense of humour. Here was I in Posen, one of Germany's most important fortresses and a symbol of Prussian militarism, innocent of any permit, in my English pyjamas under my English great- coat, representing an English publication, and being politely asked by a German sergeant, who, if he had had the slightest inkling of my identity would have torn me limb from limb, or at least arrested me, to buy a glass of beer for him which he himself could not obtain. If this situation does not upset all the laws of probabil- ity, I don't know what does. 142 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL I ordered that glass of beer, and nine more, and paid for them with greater pleasure than I ever did for a drink before. The sergeant and his two friends who had j oined him thanked me most profusely, and warmly shook hands. The waiter winked an eye at our group every time I ordered another " Miinchener," and pretended admira- tion for my speed and capacity. But when I wanted to leave the waiting-room and return to my train, the fun started. I had left the platform and entered the restaurant without being way- laid at all. But twenty minutes later I found at all the doors, beside the usual ticket collector, a policeman and a soldier. Shades of Napoleon ! No ticket, no permit, no identification paper of any kind, not even a visiting card. I had been a fool. The policeman looked searchingly at me and seemed to compare me with some sort of a description he held in his hand. Conscience stricken, I of course jumped immediately to the conclusion that my departure from Berlin had already been discovered. And after having played Lady, or rather " Sir," Bountiful to those ser- geants. What beastly luck! It goes without saying that they made all the fuss they possibly could and strenuously interlarded their dissertation with the word " Verboten." Of course, I offered to take them to my compartment and show them aU the permits in Germany. I explained that I had had a sudden attack of some kind or another, cold, thirst, anything. I was asked to open my great-coat, so as to show that I was unarmed and undisguised. I did. The three of them, joined by a group of soldiers, stared at my purple-striped pyjamas with deep interest. BERLIN — ALLENSTEIN 143 when suddenly a voice exclaimed " Englander." I can assure you that never did a word affect me so. It seemed to start in my brain and slowly trickle down my spine, oozing out at my toe and returning through another one, and going the same way back. " Eng- lander " and " Posen." Brr ! The whole audience was electrified. Curses ! Why didn't I do in Germany as the Germans do and wear a respectable nightshirt. And my train was due to leave in about eight minutes ! " Ja, ja! " growled a policeman in reply to my pro- tests, " Aber Sie sind kein Deutscher." (" Yes, that's all very well, but you are not German.") It was finally decided to send for the stationmaster and the officer in charge of the station guard. When they came we ad- journed to my compartment to verify my statements. Off we marched. I was in the centre, flanked by a policeman on one side and a soldier with a loaded rifle on the other. Half a hundred men, mostly military, followed us, and I heard many an ominous whisper of " Spion " and " Englander." At first I intended to take them to my own compartment and try the old trick of showing them Hindenburg's letter. But on second thoughts I feared that after all this fuss, and being without a permit, the letter might prove insufficient for once. When we boarded the sleeping car, I went straight to von Bethmann-Hollweg's berth, woke him up, and privately explained the situation. I did not omit to mention that the officer of the station guard was a mere infantry subaltern. Bethmann-Hollweg was out of his berth in half a second, clapped on his helmet and put on his tunic. He wore what the authoress of " Elisabeth and her German Garden " describes as " the night attire that is still, thank Heaven, characteristic of every honest German gentleman." The effect was lU BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL startling. He looked like a military Amazon. Thus clothed, he rushed out into the narrow corridor, and faced my would-be gaolers. I wish I could reproduce here verbatim Bethmann- HoUweg's homily. It was so beautifully, utterly and characteristically German. It was magnificent. It was a classic. Oh! such language. His words made the very carriage shake ; at least, they had that effect upon the luckless young lieutenant, the fat policeman and the private. In a voice that would have wakened the dead, Holl- weg demanded to know how they dared have the imperti- nence to molest his distinguished foreign friend.? Did they realise who I was? Did they know that I was a personal friend of General von Hindenburg and on my way to join his Staff.? Did they know who he (himself) was? His name was von Bethmann-Hollweg, Captain in the 3rd Dragoons. How did they dare have the im- pertinence to enter this private carriage, how did they dare to arouse a car of officers — officers, sir — this to the young lieutenant — who are in the fighting line, not a hundred and fifty miles behind it, growing fat and lazy ! Perhaps they would like to see his pass? Would they? Well, by all the " pigs' snouts '' in Germany, if they did not get out of his car in two shakes, he would have them kicked out by his servant. That, as far as it is fit for reproduction here, is about the substance of this nocturnal oration, call it curtain lecture, if you like (in view of Hollweg's attire), which once again made me a free man. During the entire harangue the three had stood at attention, literally shaking in their boots. They needed no second " Raus " ("Get out") to make them run. They disappeared as fast as ever they could pick their BERLIN — ALLiENSTEIN 145 way over topboots and other military paraphernalia in the dark corridor. That is how I escaped Posen gaol, and who knows what else. Even to-day I can raise a laugh at the memory of Bethmann-Hollweg in his peculiar get-up, the torrential flow of abuse and sarcasm that fell from his lips, and the terrified officials who took to their heels as soon as ever they could. The whole situation was ludicrous in the extreme. CHAPTER XX ALLENSTEIN WE arrived at AUenstein about 9 :30 a. m., only ten minutes over scheduled time, which, consider- ing the fact that troop and ambulance trains had been running all night, was very good work. We went to the hotel " Deutsches Haus " and had an excellent breakfast. In order to procure a bread ticket we all had to take a room. I saw not the least sign there, although within comparatively short distance of the Polish frontier and of the Russians, of any shortage of food. The bread ticket seemed merely a matter of form, because we received a great deal more than the small coupon marked " 25 gram " entitled us to. Early in the war the Russians visited AUenstein and were there for four days. I have talked to scores of Germans, inhabitants of the town, and did not find a single one amongst them who had the least complaint to make concerning the conduct of the " Russian hordes and barbarians," as the Huns call them. The Mayor of AUenstein was decorated by the Kaiser with the Iron Cross, and, if ever there was a man who deserved it, it was that mayor. He should be made ambassador. The story of how he earned it will bear re-telling, especially as it has the additional merit of being true. When the Russians came within ten miles of AUen- stein, Mayor Zuelch, accompanied by several of the city fathers, met them. Mayor Zuelch, when he was brought in the presence of the General in command, handed over the gold keys of 146 ALLENSTEIN 147 the city, and begged him to consider the place his. The Russian General — evidently knowing his German — invited the Mayor and his city councillors to remain with him until they reached Allenstein. Incidentally, he warned them that if any tricks should be played the most severe counter-measures would be taken ; and that, if the Russian troops should meet with any treachery on the part of the townspeople, Allenstein would be burnt. The Mayor protested his goodwill, assuring him that there were no German soldiers left at Allen- stein, and that the citizens would not commit any act of war. " Therefore, my dear General," pleaded the diplomatic mayor, " since Allenstein from to-day on to all intents and purposes becomes as much Russian as Petersburg is, why should you destroy it? You would be destroying your own property ! " I obtained some very interesting information at Allen- stein throwing further light on the German character. When I was making inquiries among the natives about the conduct of the Russians and asked whether there had been any plundering, the answer was startling: " Yes, there had been a good deal of ransacking of shops and restaurants, but not by the Russians. The day before they occupied Allenstein — that is, on Aug- ust 25th, (1914) — the population absolutel}' lost its head. The majority of them, with their beds, trunks and all belongings that were transportable, left by road and rail, and at nightfall the number of inhabitants had shrunk from forty thousand to five thousand. The remainder thereupon ran riot, plundered the shops, res- taurants, the station buffet, and even private houses. The mob was absolutely past control. I was assured BY SEVERAL WELL-KNOWN CITIZENS THAT THEY HAD NOT EVEN THE EXCUSE OF HUNGER. When a sober, though 148 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL panic-stricken, population starts plundering its own city, what can one expect from soldiers, drunk with the lust of battle, intoxicated by wine and rum, and in the enemy's country? Only after the arrival of the Russians was order restored. Before the main body of Russian troops entered the city, sentries with loaded rifles were placed in front of every shop, hotel and restaurant. They had instructions to fire at any one, friend or foe, who tried to enter those premises except on legitimate business. Russian sentries protecting a German city from its own rabble ! Indeed, here was a pretty story. I have been through every part of Allenstein, but not a house, not a tree, had been damaged or destroyed. When I wandered through the streets and parks and listened to the stories of the late Russian invasion, my mind flew back to Belgium ; I thought of Namur, Lou- vain, Termonde, Nieuport, Dixmude, Ypres. . . . . And the Germans speak of " Russian hordes " ! At night, during dinner, while talking with one of the garrison officers, I compared the condition of Allenstein and East Prussia in general with that of Belgium, as I had seen it in the early days of 1915. " Ah ! that was quite a different matter," he told me. " You see, the AUensteiners were polite to the enemy ; they simply bowed their heads to the inevitable, and bid the conquerors welcome. What would you? This was war, and one has to swallow one's pride sometimes. But Belgium — why, those people had offered resistance, had actually fired at the German troops. Think of that, sir, civilians firing at German soldiers ! " I have learnt the value of silence these last two years, so I did not enter into an argument by asking the officer by what right the Germans had invaded a peaceful country with which they had no quarrel. ALLENSTEIN 149 There is one criticism, though, that I must make about the Russian command at AUenstein, viz., the shortsightedness of not having blown up the two promi- nent railway bridges. AUenstein is a point where six railroads, from as many different directions, meet. It was at that time the most important centre for the movement and distribu- tion of troops in that part of the war zone. It is my opinion that it should have been the first care of the Russian command to have had everything in readiness to blow up those two bridges. That would have dis- organised for a considerable time the German lines of communication. The Germans suddenly returned, and in large numbers. The Russian troops in AUenstein had to withdraw in great haste. At the eleventh hour two men tried to destroy the bridges, but both were shot before they were able to carr}' out their object. Those two bridges stand to-day as they did before the war. Here, again, the genius of the mayor worsted the Russians. The day after their arrival at AUenstein the Russian General informed the mayor that he was going to blow up the two railway bridges on the southern side of the town. The ma^^or remonstrated with him, and pointed out that this would be not only useless, but actually prejudicial to their own interests. German trains would never utilise them again ; but, on the other hand, it was more than likely that ere long the Russians themselves would need them for military transport en route for Berlin ! ! ! How it was possible that the Russians had no infor- mation of the German army corps that was advancing on their right flank is a riddle to me, and to all who have followed this part of the campaign. Where were the Russian aviators.'' 150 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL The porter of the hotel " Deutsches Haus " was also decorated. As it appeared that he had been in his present job since long before the war, I wondered how he had earned his Iron Cross. He told me. It was a clever story, and I made a point of verifying it. After the main body of Russians had left AUenstein, four Russian Staff officers, who had been on an automobile reconnaissance, returned to the hotel. There they learnt that all their colleagues had left, and that the Germans were at hand. It seems that they had some important documents in their rooms which they were anxious to save. They rushed to the elevator, ordered the attendant to take them upstairs, to the third floor, and told him to wait. A few minutes later, when they descended, the lift stopped half-way between the second and the third floor. They smashed the roof and tried to climb out, but they could not reach the next floor. Their shouts for help met, of course, with no response. They remained imprisoned in that lift for over an hour. When the Germans arrived, strange to say, the mechan- ism suddenly started working once more. The German Uhlan officers " liberated " the captives, but only to make them prisoners in another form. That porter knows a thing or two about elevators and electrical engineering. I think this is one of the greatest hard-luck stories I have come across during the war. My train acquaintances left me in the afternoon for their ultimate destination, the small town of Ortelsburg, some fifteen miles south of AUenstein, and in a district that has seen much fighting. Before they left we all wrote a number of picture postcards, and, of course, according to German custom, everybody signed his name to everybody else's message. •»«.'^ Lieutenant von Bethmann-Hollweg, Who Has Since Been Killed, on the Right, and THE Author Photograph was taken at AUenntein Station ALLENSTEIN 151 Bethmann sent a card to a mutual acquaintance at the Foreign Office in Berlin, which he asked me to sign. I took great care that my signature was an unreadable hieroglyphic. Still, after all, it was perfectly safe, be- cause I was entrusted with the posting of the cards. I thought it wiser not to set the official mind wondering who the " charming journalist " was that Bethmann mentioned. (I posted it a month later from Stettin on the day I bid farewell to the Fatherland. ) Before I left, Bethmann had taken me to the head- quarters of the 20th Army Corps, commanded by Gen- eral Count von Schlieffen. In the absence of the Gen- eral, he presented me to Major von der Goltz, nephew of the late Field-Marshal. General von Schlieffen was expected back about 6 p. m. When I returned at that hour, von der Goltz introduced me to his chief. I must frankly admit that, German or no, I found him a most delightful, genial and courteous man. I produced — I wonder how many times I had done so before — the precious letter of introduction to General von Hinden- burg. He read it, and then inquired what he could do for me. I told him that I was anxious to get over to Lotzen and present my letter. " Oh, we will soon arrange that. I am going on an inspection trip to-morrow morning to Nicolaiken, which is only about twenty miles from Headquarters. If I cannot take you there myself I will get you a car." " I hope you have not brought too much luggage," he added, smilingly, and then warned me : " But re- member, 6 :30 A. M., my friend." I would not have minded if it had been 4 :30. Really, I began to get worried ; such is the perversity of human nature. Everything was running as smoothly as if it had been mapped out for me beforehand, and 152 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL I — I distrusted my good fortune. It just seemed too easy. Where was this much vaunted German thorough- ness? where was that German carefulness, shrewdness and system ? Here I was without a permit, without any military document whatsoever, only my letter to Hin- denburg, which, for all they knew of its authenticity, I might have written myself. Here was I in the German lines hobnobbing with officers of all ranks and planning motor trips with the General commanding an army corps. It really seemed ludicrous. My belief in the infallibility of the German system had received another rude shock. But I was punished for my ingratitude and distrust of Dame Fortune. I spent a most interesting half-hour with General von Schlieffen. He showed me a number of magnificent German Staff maps of Poland, pointed out to me the various Russian and German positions, and told me a great deal of Hindenburg's plans for the future. When I bid him good-bye I had to promise him that we would meet at dinner later in the evening. I was almost out- side the door of the map room when he suddenly called out : " Of course, Herr Beaufort, you have all your passes and permits from the Berlin General Staff in order ? " Well, that dished me. Wasn't this disgusting, wasn't this absolutely heart-breaking.? After having bluffed my way from Berlin to close on the Polish frontier, almost within earshot of the Russian guns, after . . . What was the use, what did anything matter now.? I felt like turning round and telling the General to go ahead and do his worst. Re-entering the room, I feigned great surprise at his question. Why, of course, I had my passport, and ALLENSTEIN 153 then that letter to Hindenburg, also an introduction to General von Below — yes, most assuredly, all my papers were in order. Yes, yes, he kncvv^ all that ; but what he meant was a permit to visit the front and the official pass issued by the General Staff in Berlin, necessary in order to be able to enter the " Etappenlinie " (" Lines of Com- munication "). Again I looked surprised. " Oh, really ! Well, no ; you see, I only want to go and shake hands with the famous General. I do not wish to go to the front at all. Oh, dear no ! all that would come later on, when the journalists go in nice little batches of six, on per- sonally-conducted tours of the battle-field. No, this was merely a preliminary journey to go and present a letter of introduction." My God ! how I talked, and how I tried to side-track him on to another subject. But it was no use. He would insist on getting back to his subject — the Berlin permit. I had acted abso- lutely against all precedent. How did I know where Hindenburg was.'* Who had told me? It was a great secret. How had I got to AUenstein? How had I got into the Friedrichstrasse Station and the train with- out a permit? and a dozen similar questions. It was a complicated business. He called Major von der Goltz into the room and told him the situation. Von der Goltz was a sport. He observed that since I had got this far, it might be just as well to let me finish my trip, and suggested telephon- ing to Lotzen. In that way they could shift the re- sponsibility on to Headquarters. " I would be only too delighted to take you without all this fuss," explained von Schlieffen ; " but we must obey orders, and I might get into awful trouble myself. You are in the lines of communication, where no civilians except those that live 154 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL in the district are permitted without a special pass." I suppose I should have been thankful that I was not locked up at once. He promised to telephone to Lotzen and ask whether he might bring me over the next morn- ing. He would let me know the answer when we met at dinner. Huh! I could have told him the answer right there and then. You see it is a rule that has no exception, that when it comes to asking a favour over the tele- phone, especially when there is a doubtful element in the case — and a war correspondent these days always is a doubtful element — the surest and simplest answer is invariably " No." This rule is international, it ap- plies to all countries and to aU languages. I assure I speak from bitter and manifold experience. I walked back to the hotel, less chirpy than I had left it an hour or so ago. At eight o'clock his Excellency appeared, and with many assurances of regret reported, as they say in Parliament : " The answer is in the negative." He was very sorry that he would have to miss my charming society on the morrow; but one of General Hindenburg's Staff Officers had told him that I could not possibly continue my journey under the circumstances, and would either have to return to Berlin and arrange the matter there, or telegraph to the Berlin General Staff to forward a permit at once. Oh, yes, I could see them in Berlin breaking their necks to send me a permit " at once " ! I decided that the best thing would be to return to Berlin and " arrange things there " ; at least, that is what I told the General. Of course, I assured him that I had been a perfect ass not to have thought of that when I was in Berlin; but, then, no doubt he would understand that we unmili- ALLENSTEIN 155 tary nations have not the least inkling about military regulations and necessities. He felt very sorry for me and insisted upon settling the dinner bill. There was a train that evening at 11 p. m., twenty- four hours after my departure from Berlin, and, as he pointed out, he was reluctantly obliged to send me back by it. At first I intended to carry out his orders, but once more that irrepressible journalistic spirit of ad- venture rebelled. With what result you will see in the next chapter. CHAPTER XXI ALLENSTEIN FESTE BOYEN (loTZEn) ABOUT 10:30 I bid the kindly General good-bye, and was again assured how sorry he was not to be able to have the pleasure of my company to-morrow, etc., etc. As I could not get a cab or taxi, he called a private and told him to carry my bag for me to the station. At first I wondered whether that was merely an excuse to have me watched, but I was mistaken. I was beginning to enjoy the protection, privileges and dignity which the company of a private soldier lent me. At the station I tipped the man and he disap- peared at once. The guard at the restaurant door had seen me come in with the private carrying my bag, and, Germanlike, was not going to take any chances. He was as polite, courteous and helpful as he could pos- sibly be. I inquired about trains. " Ah, your Excel- lency " (it did sound nice in my journalistic ears, and to my uneasy conscience), " it is difficult to say what delays there may be. The down train is an hour late already, and the express to Berlin has just been re- ported held up without any definite orders at Korschen (some thirty miles further east). Large movements of troops. Hindenburg at it again," he added confiden- tially. The waiting-room was crowded, but I found a corner somewhere with a chair, and, spreading out my maps on the table, I started to write my diary and jot down my impressions. This, of course, attracted con- siderable attention, which, I shall always maintain is 156 ALLENSTEIN — FESTE BOYEN 157 NOT a bad plan in Germany. The German who has an3'thing on his conscience sneaks along in dark shad- ows, fights shy of the daylight, and tries to remain as unnoticed and humble as possible. So he judges that everybody else will do the same, and, ergo, anybody who walks in the middle of the street, with his head well up, MUST be some one in authority. Now and again my friend the assistant stationmaster came in and reported on the situation. Once or twice I heard him say " For- eign Attache to Hindenburg's Headquarters," in reply to various inquiries made by some of the passengers and officers. When I found the entire train service all topsy-turvy, I decided that I would leave my destination in the hands of the fates — a philosophical attitude to take, if you are waiting for a train in the heart of an important cen- tre of communication. My argument was as follows : " The goddess of journalism has protected me thus far. Very well. The first train that reaches this station, be it passenger or troop train, going East — towards Hin- denburg's Headquarters — or West — back to Berlin — no matter, I shall get into it and leave everything else on the knees of the gods." Midnight came and still no sign of a train. One o'clock, two o'clock. I think by that time I was the only civilian left in the waiting-room. The others had returned to the city, deciding to wait till the next day, rather than spend half, or perhaps all night on the floor of the waiting-room. At 2 :30 — i.e., after three and a half hours' waiting, the assistant stationmaster rushed up to me and announced with great satisfaction that " Ein Militarzug " ("troop train") was due in about five minutes. " Where for ? " I inquired indifferently, at least so I tried to make it sound. " For Korschen 158 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL and Insterburg," he answered. " You will change at Korschen, where you will have no difficulty in finding another military train to take you on to Lotzen." Well, the die was cast. I did hesitate for a fraction of a second, in which a hundred fears and objections crowded through my brain. You see, I could no longer act the part of an ignorant foreigner, unaware that he was in the lines of communication. I had been warned by Count von SchliefFen, so, if arrested, I had no defence whatsoever. I doubt whether I could have maintained that I got into the wrong train. Well, faint journalist never won fair story, so en avant once again. My af- fable friend, the assistant stationmaster, commandeered a soldier to carry my bag for me, and out we marched on to the platform, and through a tunnel to the next one, where a few minutes later the snow-covered troop train pulled in. In most German and neutral stories about military trains I think it is always understood that the men are singing in chorus, waiving their helmets and shouting: " Nach Petersburg," " Nach Paris," " Nach Calais." Well, all I can say is that during my three months' pil- grimage I have seen, met, and travelled in a good many military specials, but, with very, very few exceptions, I have heard no singing, no shouting, and little of that much-advertised German " Humour." In most com- partments into which I glanced, ten men (the full com- plement), with their entire field kit, were packed to- gether as close as sardines in a box, and, in the majority of cases, they were either sleeping or trying to do so. The faces, far from showing excitement, showed fatigue and weariness, and I heard many a sigh of " Ach, wie lange noch, wie lange noch." When they were singing, it was as a rule a sentimental ALLENSTEIN — FESTE BOYEN 159 old song, with some new additions, called, " I had a Comrade." The words are somewhat like this: " I had a comrade, a better one you'd never find. The drums called us to battle, and he marched at my side. Gloria, Victoria, with heart and hand. For the Fatherland, for the Fatherland. " The birds in the forest are singing so sweet, In the home-land, in the home-land where once more we'll meet. Gloria, Victoria, etc. "A bullet then came a-flying; whom shall it strike, thee or me? It hit him in the breast, and he lay at my feet. He stretched out his hand and bid me farewell. In all eternity he will remain my good old comrade." This is the most popular German war song of the day. Except here and there in garrison towns, when troops were marching to or from the station, I rarely heard " Die Wacht am Rhein " or " Deutschland iiber Alles." Those two songs are what is described as " order songs." The tempo of the " Good Comrade " is brisk, and it is easy to march to. The melody, like the words, was tender and sad, but very tuneful. The song itself is very old, but the " Gloria, Victoria " part is a war addition. Oh, these digressions! But it is difficult to avoid them when trying to record such a kaleidoscope of impressions. The military special was crowded with sleeping sol- diers, but the stationmaster found a first-class compart- ment for me in which there was only one officer. I should have liked for a change to travel third with the soldiers, and obtain some local atmosphere, or what, in newspaper parlance, is described as " human interest material." But travelling third class in Germany is a very un- wise thing to do, for any one except a German. Trav- 160 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL elling third and stopping at anything but first-class hotels are amongst the important " don'ts " of a for- eign newspaper man in Germany. If I may be permit- ted to express an opinion on the subject, I think that one of the causes that led to the downfall of my esteemed colleague and fellow-explorer, Mr. Goeffrey Pyke, was the fact that he hid himself in humble third-rate Berlin hotels. It was a great mistake. He should have gone straight to the Hotel Adlon. For any one in search of news and information it is the most profitable as well as the safest place in Germany. Several civilians tried to board this train, but the railroad employes pushed them aside and bawled, with a liberal accompaniment of curses, that this was a " Militarzug," and for soldiers only. Oh, how often did I laugh in my sleeve ! My travelling companion was not very talkative. He was more than half asleep when I entered the com- partment, so, to my disadvantage, he lost the homage paid to me by the very obsequious stationmaster. Such a pity ! I might have continued being " Excellenz," and, who knows, perhaps have been " excellenced " into Hindenburg's presence. There is nothing so contagious in Germany as a title. We had scarcely started when our train stopped, and was side-tracked to permit the up express to pass. It was the Berlin night train ! I had missed — I may say now escaped — it by ten minutes. At Korschen, situated between Allenstein and Inster- burg, I had to change to a little branch line that would take me to Lotzen and Hindenburg. For some reason or other most of the military expresses I boarded stopped anywhere from a quarter to half a mile outside the station; Korschen was no exception. ALLENSTEIN — FESTE BOYEN 161 As no passenger train was in sight no passes were demanded ; nevertheless, several porters shouted some- thing about " Train for Lotzen, military only." Well, I had to be military once more. I played the old trick of calling a soldier to carry my bag, and side by side "we marched past guards and soldiers towards the train. A few first, second and third-class coaches were sand- wiched in between a larger number of freight cars carry- ing, judging by their inscriptions, ammunition, wheat, barbed wire and " Liebesgaben." Indeed, one might say, all that was near and dear to the heart of a soldier. When dawn broke through a leaden sky it revealed a rolling, snow-covered country, bare as a Western Ca- nadian prairie. Here and there on the horizon was a clump of fir-trees, but that seemed the sole vegetation in this part of the country. It was barren, bleak and gloomy. The houses of the occasional hamlets and small towns we passed were all built of red brick, and nowhere did I see the slightest trace of a garden. It was nothing but prairie, lakes and marshes on all sides. Brrr ! what an inhospitable country, what a terrible battlefield! Talk about the inundations of Flanders, the mud round Ypres — why, they were Kew Gardens compared to this place. At 7.30 A. M. we reached Fortress Boyen, Lotzen. I was cold, tired, hungry, sleepy, and, to be quite honest, just a bit nervous. I realised that I was skating on very thin ice, and that one break would land me in gaol. My entry was not very auspicious. First thing I knew I was in a row with an ancient Landsturm ticket-col- lector, who insisted that I had not given him a ticket. He was quite right. I had no ticket to give him ; but, of course, it would have been suicidal to admit that. I had to speak very harshly to him before he clicked his heels, " found " my ticket, and apologised. 162 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL At the modest little hotel, immodestly called " Kaiser- hof," I snatched two hours' sleep. Of course, such a thing as a bath was not known in the place. I shaved, ate a hearty English breakfast, and about 11 a. m. pro- ceeded with a beating heart, and wondering where I would be an hour hence, towards the ugly Town Hall where Hindenburg's headquarters were established. CHAPTER XXII HINDENBURG YES, if the truth be told, I must say that I felt just a wee bit shaky about the knees. I wondered what view they would take of my perseverance, worthy, I am sure, of a kind reception. I would wager that in the whole of Germany there could not be found one journalist whose hair would not have stood on end at the mere suggestion of travelling to Hindenburg's headquarters without a pass. Why, he would sooner think of calling at the Palace " Unter den Linden," and of asking to interview the Kaiser. I think I must describe to you the way I appeared at headquarters. At Allenstein I had bought, the day before, a huge portrait of Hindenburg; it must have been nearl}' thirty inches long. Under one arm I carried the photograph, in my hand my letter of introduction, and in my other hand a huge umbrella, which was a local acquisition. On my face I wore that beatific, enthusiastic and very naive expres- sion of " the innocent abroad." I had blossomed out into that modern pest — the autograph maniac. Army corps, headquarters, strategy and tactics were words that meant nothing to me. How could they, stupid, unmilitary foreigner that I was ! It was a pure case of " Fools will enter where angels fear to tread." You may be sure that my subsequent conversation with the Staff captain confirmed the idea that I was inno- cent of all military knowledge, and that I probably — 163 164. BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL so he thought — did not know the difference between an army corps and a section of snipers. Why had I come to Lotzen? Why, of course, to shake hands with the famous General, the new Na- poleon ; to have a little chat with him, and — last, but not least — to obtain his most priceless signature to my most priceless photograph. What? Not as easy as all that, but why? Could there be any harm in grant- ing me those favours? Could it by the furthest stretch of imagination be considered as giving information to the enemy? What good was my letter of introduction from the General's dear nephew? Of course, I would not ask the General where he had his guns hidden, and when he intended to take Petrograd, Moscow and Kieff. Oh, no; I knew enough about military matters not to ask such leading questions. But joking apart. On showing my famous letter I had no difficulty whatsoever in entering the buildings of the General Staff. The first man I met was Haupt- mann Frantz. He didn't seem a bad sort at all, and ap- peared rather to enjoy the joke and my "innocence,"- at imagining that I could walk up to Hindenburg's Eastern headquarters and say " Hello ! " to the General. He thought it was most " original," and certainly exceedingly American. Still, it got him into the right mood. " Make people smile," might be a good motto for itinerant journalists in the war zones. Few people, not excepting Germans, are so mean as to bite you with a smile on their face. Make them laugh, and half the battle is won. Frantz read my letter and was duly impressed. He never asked me whether I had any passes. He advised me to go to the General's house, shook hands, and wished me luck. Phew! I was glad that my first contact with the HINDENBURG 165 General Staff had come off so smoothly. I had been fully prepared for stormy weather, if not for a hurri- cane. Cockily, I went off to Hindenburg's residence, a very modest suburban villa not far from the station, and belonging to a country lawyer. There was a bit of garden in front, and at the back ; the house was new, and the bricks still bright red. Across the road on two poles a wide banner Avas stretched, with " Willkommen " painted on it. Two old Mecklenburger Landsturm men guarded the little wooden gate. I told them that I came from Great Headquarters, and once more produced the letter. They saluted, opened the gate, and one of them ran ahead to ring the door bell. I walked up the little gravel path with here and there a patch of green dilapidated grass on either side. I remember the window curtains were of yellow plush. In the window seat stood a tall vase with artificial flowers flanked by a birdcage with two canaries. It was all very suburban, and did not look at all like the residence of such a famous man. An orderly, with his left arm thrust into a top-boot, opened the door. In a tone of voice that left no chance for the familiar War-Office question: " Have you an appointment, sir? " I inquired whether the Field-Marshal was at home, at the same time giving him my letter. The orderly peeled off his top-boot, unfastened his overalls, and slipped on his coat. Then he carefully took my letter, holding it gingerly between thumb and third finger, so as not to leave any marks on it, and ushered me into the " Wohnzimmer," a sort of living and dining-room combined. It was the usual German affair. A couch, a table, a huge porce- lain stove, were the prominent pieces of furniture. All three were ranged against the long wall. The straight- 166 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL backed chairs were covered with red plush. On the walls hung several monstrosities, near-etchings repre- senting the effigies of the Kaiser, the Kaiserin, and, of course, of " Our " Hindenburg. There was the usual over-abundance of artificial flowers and ferns so dear to the heart of every German Hausfrau. The two canaries lived in the most elaborate home- made cage. (I understand they were the property of the "Hausfrau," not of Hindenburg!) On the table, covered with a check tablecloth, stood a bowl contain- ing three goldfish. The floor was covered with a bright carpet, and in front of one of the doors lay a mat with " Salve " on it. Over the couch hung a photographic enlargement of a middle-aged soldier leaning non- chalantly against a door on which was chalked " Kriegs- jahr, 1914." Over the frame hung a wreath with a black and white ribbon, inscribed " In Memoriam," tell- ing its eloquent story. Behind me was a map of the Eastern front, and pinned alongside of it a caricature of a British Tommy sitting astride of a pyramid and pulling a number of strings fastened to the legs, arms and head of the Sul- tan, who was apparently dancing a jig. That room impressed itself upon my memory for all time. I often dream of it. I had waited only a few minutes when a young officer came in, who, bowing obsequiously, wished me a very formal good-morning. I took my cue from the way he bowed. He explained that the General was out in the car but was expected back before noon. Would I con- descend to wait? Needless to say, I did " condescend." I forgot to mention one point in my meditations. When I took the chance of continuing East instead of returning to Berlin, I thought there might just be a HINDENBURG 167 possibility that the Adjutant or Staff Officer who had spoken with von SchHefFen had entirely taken it upon himself to say " No," and that it was not unlikely that the General knew nothing whatever about my letter or my contemplated visit. If my surmise was correct, I would stand a sporting chance, because it was hardly to be expected that out of the thirty-odd officers com- prising the Staff, I should run bang into the very man who had telephoned. I soon knew that the officer in immediate attendance on Hindenburg was not aware of my contretejnps at Allenstein on the previous day. Neither did he inquire after my passes. You see, they take these things for granted. Would I prefer to wait here or come in his office, where the stove was lit.'^ Of course, I thought that would be more pleasant. I thought, and am glad to say was not mistaken, that probably the young officer felt he needed some mental relaxation. This will sound strange, but I have found during my travels through Germany, that in spite of the many warnings not to talk shop, every soldier, from the humblest pri- vate to the highest General — I am sure not excepting the War Lord himself — dearly loves to expatiate on matters military, his ambitions and hopes. This one was no exception. He chatted away very merrily, and more than once I recognised points and arguments which I had read weeks ago in interviews granted by General Hindenburg to Austrian journalists. He quite imagined himself an embryo Field-Marshal. He showed me several excellent maps, which gave every railroad line on both sides of the Polish frontier. They certainly emphasised the enormous difference and the many advantages of German versus Russian rail- road communications. Many of his predictions have since come true, but most of them have not. He hinted 168 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL very mysteriously, but quite unmistakably, at a pros- pective Russian debacle, and predicted a separate peace with Russia before the end of 1915 ! " And then," he added, " we will shake up the old women at the Western front a bit and show them the ' Hindenburg method.' " The room we were in was fitted up as an emergency staff office. There were several large tables, maps ga- lore, a safe, a number of books that looked like ledgers and journals, six telephones and a telegraph instru- ment. Two non-commissioned officers were writing in a corner. In case anything important happens at night, such as an urgent despatch that demands immediate attention, everything was at hand to enable the General to issue new orders. A staff-officer and a clerk are al- ways on duty. I learned later on, though, that a position in that auxiliary staff -office at Hindenburg's residence is more or less of a sinecure. All despatches go first to Luden- dorff, Hindenburg's Chief of Staff, who, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, issues orders without consulting his Chief. In the midst of a long explanation of the Russian plight, the voluble subaltern suddenly stopped short. I heard a car halt in front of the house, and a minute or two later the door of the office opened and Germany's giant idol entered. I rose and bowed. The officer and the two sergeants clicked their heels audibly, and replied to the stentorian " Morgen, meine Herren," with a brisk " Morgen, Excellence." Hindenburg looked questions at me, but I thought I would let my young friend do the talking and act as master of ceremonies. He handed Hindenburg my let- ter, and introduced me as " Herr ' von ' Beaufort, who has just arrived from Rome." (I had left Rome nearly HINDENBURG 169 three months before ! ) The General read his nephew's letter and then shook hands with me, assuring me of the pleasure it gave him to meet me. Of course, I was glad that he was glad, and expressed reciprocity of sentiments. I looked at him — well, for lack of a bet- ter word, I will say, with affection ; you know the kind of child-like, simple admiration which expresses so much. I tried to look at him as a certain little girl would have done, who wrote : " You are like my gov- erness: she, too, knows everything." I felt sure that that attitude was a better one than to pretend that I was overawed. That sort of homage he must receive every day. Besides, as soon as I realised that he knew nothing of the telephone message from and to Allen- stein, my old self-assurance had returned. Now for my impressions of Germany's — and, as some people try to make us believe, the world's — great- est military genius. They might be summed up in two words : " Strength and cruelty." Hindenburg stands over six feet high. His whole personality radiates strength, brute, animal strength. He was, when I met him, sixty-nine years of age, but looked very much younger. His hair and moustache were still pepper and salt colour. His face and forehead are deeply fur- rowed, which adds to his forbidding appearance. His nose and chin are prominent, but the most striking fea- ture of the man's whole appearance are his eyes. They are steel-blue and very small, much too small for his head, which, in turn, is much too small compared with his large body. But what the eyes lacked in size they fully made up for in intensity and penetrating powers. Until I met Hindenburg I always thought that the eyes of the Mexican rebel Villa were the worst and most cruel I had ever seen. They are mild compared with those 170 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL of Hindenburg. Nevee in all my life have I seen SUCH HAED, CEUEL, NAY, SUCH UTTEELY BEUTAL EYES AS THOSE OF HiNDENBUEG. The moment I looked at him I believed every story of refined (and unrefined) cruelty I had ever heard about him. He has the disagreeable habit of looking at you as if he did not believe a word you said. Frequently in con- versation he closes his eyes, but even then it seemed as if their steel-like sharpness pierced his eyelids. Instead of deep circles, such as, for instance, I have noticed on the Kaiser, he has big fat cushions of flesh under his eyes, which accentuate their smallness. When he closes his eyes, these cushions almost touch his bushy eye- brows and give his face a somewhat prehistoric appear- ance. His hair, about an inch long I should judge, was brushed straight up — what the French call en brosse. The general contour of his head seemed that of a square, rounded off at the corners. Speaking about the stories of crueltj'^, one or two of them may bear re-telling. When during the heavy fighting, early in 1915, Gen- eral Rennenkampf was forced to evacuate Insterburg somewhat hastily, he was unable to find transport for about fifty thousand loaves of bread. Not feeling in- clined to make a present of them to the Germans, he ordered paraffin to be poured over them. When the Germans found that bread and discovered its condition, Hindenburg is reported to have been frantic with rage. The next day, after he had calmed down, he said to one of his aides : " Well, it seems to be a matter of taste. If the Russians like their bread that way, very well. Give it to the Russian peisonees." You may feel certain that his orders were scrupu- lousl}' carried out. OS o s HINDENBURG 171 Another incident which they are very fond of relat- ing in Germany is more amusing, though it also plays on their idol's cruelty. It is a fact that both officers and men are deadly afraid of him. It is said that the great General has a special predilection for bringing the tip of his riding boots into contact with certain parts of the human anatomy. A private would far rather face day and night the Russian guns than be orderly to Hindenburg. But one day a man came up and offered himself for the job. " And what are you in private life ? " the General snorted at him. " At your orders, sir, I am a wild animal trainer." Hindenburg and I talked for about twenty minutes on various subjects — Holland, Italy, America, and, of course, the campaign. When he tried to point out to me how all-important it was for Holland that Germany should crush Eng- land's " world-domination," I mentioned the Dutch Colonies. That really set him going. " Colonies," he shouted. " Pah ! I am sick of all this talk about colonies. It would be better for people, and I am not referring to our enemies alone, to pay more attention to events in Europe. I say ' to the devil ' (zum Teufel) with the colonies. Let us first safeguard our own coun- try ; the colonies will follow. It is here," and he went up to a large map of Poland hanging on the wall, and laid a hand almost as large as a medium-sized breakfast tray over the centre of it — " It is here," he continued, " that European and colonial affairs will be settled and nowhere else. As far as the colonies are concerned, it will be a matter of a foot for a mile, as long as we hold large slices of enemy territory." 112 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL He spoke with great respect of the Russian soldier, but maintained that they lacked proper leaders. " It takes more than ten years to reform the morale of an officers' corps. From what I have learned, the morale of the Russian officer is to this day much the same as it was in the Russo-Japanese war. We will show you one of their ambulance trains captured near Kir- baty. It is the last word in luxury. By all means give your wounded all the comfort, all the attention you can; but I do not think that car-loads of champagne, oysters, caviare and the finest French liqueurs are nec- essary adjuncts to an ambulance train. The Russian soldier is splendid, but his discipline is not of the same quality as that of our men. In our armies discipline is the result of spiritual and moral training; in the Rus- sian armies discipline stands for dumb obedience. The Russian soldier remains at his post because he has been ordered to stay there, and he stands as if nailed to the spot. What Napoleon I. said still applies to-day : ' It is not sufficient to kill a Russian, you have to throw him over as well.' " It is absurd," the General continued, " for the enemy Press to compare this campaign with that of Napoleon in 1812." Again he got up, and pointing to another map, he said : " This is what wiU win the war for us." The map showed the close railroad net of Eastern Germany and the paucity of permanent roads in Russia. Hindenburg is almost a crank on the sub- ject of railroads in connection with strategy. In the early days of the war he shuffled his army corps about from one corner of Poland to the other. It is said that he transferred four army corps (160,000 men — about 600 trains) in two days from Kalish, in Western Poland, to Tannenberg, a distance of nearly two hun- HINDENBURG 173 dred miles. On some tracks the trains followed each other at intervals of six minutes. " Our enemies reckon without two great factors un- known in Napoleon's time : railroads and German organ- isation. Next to artillery this war means railroads, railroads, and then still more railroads. The Russians built forts ; we built railroads. They would have spent their millions better if they had emulated our policy instead of spending millions on forts. For the present fortresses are of no value against modern siege guns — at least, not until another military' genius such as Vauban, Brialmont, Montalembert, Coehoorn, springs up, who will be able to invent proper defensive meas- ures against heavy howitzers. " Another delusion under which our enemies are la- bouring is that of Russia's colossal supply of men. He who fights with Russia must always expect superiority in numbers ; but in this age of science, strategy and organisation, numbers are only decisive, ' all else being equal.' The Russian forces opposed to us on this front have alwaj's been far superior in numbers to ours, but we are not afraid of that. A crowd of men fully armed and equipped does not make an army in these days." This brought him to the subject of the British forces, more especially Kitchener's army. " It is a great mis- take to underestimate your enemy," said Hindenburg, referring to the continual slights and attacks appearing in the German Press. " I by no means underrate the thoroughness, the fighting qualities of the British sol- dier. England is a fighting nation, and has won her spurs on many battlefields. But to-day they are up against a different problem. Even supposing that Kitchener should be able to raise his arm}' of several millions, where is he going to get his officers and his l'74i BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL non-commissioned officers from? How is he going to train them, so to speak, overnight, when it has taken us several generations of uninterrupted instruction, study and work to create an efficient staff? Let me empha- sise, and with all the force I can : ' Efficiency and train- ing are everything.' There lies their difficulty. I have many officers here with me who have fought opposite the English, and all are united in their opinion that they are brave and worthy opponents; but one criti- cism was also unanimously made : ' Their officers often lead their men needlessly to death, either from sheer foolhardiness, but more often through inefficiency.' " Although he did not express this opinion to me per- sonally, I have it on excellent authority that Hinden- burg believes this war will last close on four years at least. And the result — : stalemate. He does not be- lieve that the Allies will be able to push the Germans out of Belgium, France or Poland. Personally, I found it impossible to get him to make any definite statement on the probable outcome and duration of the war. " Until we have gained an hon- ourable peace," was his cryptic reply. He refused to state what, in his opinion, constituted an honourable peace. If I am to believe several of his officers — and I discussed the subject almost every day — then Hin- denburg must by now be a very disappointed man. I was told that he calculated as a practical certainty on a separate peace with Russia soon after the fall of Warsaw. (I should like to point out here that this " separate peace with Russia " idea was one of the most popular and universal topics of conversation in Germany last year.) When Hindenburg learnt that I had come all the HINDENBURG 175 way from Berlin without a pass from the General Staff, he appeared very much amused ; but in a quasi-serious manner he said: " Well, you know that I ought to send you back at once, otherwise I shall risk getting the sack mjself ; still, as all ordinary train-service between here and Posen will be suspended for four days, the only way for you to get back is by motor-car. It would be a pity to come all the way from sunny Italy to this Si- berian cold, and not see something of the men and of the hardships of a Russian winter campaign. Travel- ling by motor-car, you will have ample opportunity to see something of the country, and, if you feel so in- clined, of the fighting as well. And then go home and tell them abroad about the insurmountable obstacles, the enormous difficulties the German army has to over- come." Hindenburg does not like the Berlin General Staff officer, and that is why he was so amused at mj' having got the better of them. He describes them as " draw- ing-room " officers, who remain safely in Berlin. With their spick and span uniforms they look askance at their mud-stained colleagues at the front. His officers, who know Hindenburg's feelings towards these gentle- men, play many a practical joke on their Berlin con^ freres. The latter have frequently returned from a visit to some communication trenches only to find that their car has mysteriously retreated some two or three miles . . . over Polish roads. Any one who can tell of such an experience befalling a " Salon Offizier " is sure to raise a good laugh from Hindenburg. At the conclusion of our conversation he instructed the young A.D.C. to take me over to Headquarters 176 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL and present me to Captain Cammerer. " Tell him," and I inscribed the words that followed deeply on my mind, " to be kind to Herr Beaufort." My introduction to Cammerer proved to be one of those curious vagaries of fate. He was the very man who less than twenty-four hours ago had spoken with General von SchliefFen, and who had assured him how impossible it was for me to continue, and that I was to be sent back to Berlin at once ! " Beaufort, Beaufort," he sniffed once or twice before he could place me. Then suddenly he remembered. *' Ah, yes, him ! You are the man General von Schlief- fen telephoned about yesterday? But did he not in- struct you to return to Berlin ? " However, I remembered Hindenburg's injunction: " Tell Cammerer to be kind to him," so what did I care for a mere captain.'' Consequently, as they say in the moving pictures, I " registered " my most angelic smile, and sweetly said : " Ah, yes, captain, quite so, quite so. But, you see, I felt certain that there was some misunderstanding at this end of the wire. Probably it was not clearly ex- plained to you that I had this very important letter of introduction to General von Hindenburg from my friend his nephew. As you see," and I waved my hand at the A.D.C., my master of ceremonies, " I was quite right in my surmise." However that may be, you may be certain that I saw to it that when we mapped out my return journey, Cammerer was being " kind " to me. Consequently, I spent two most interesting weeks in the German Eastern war-zones, much to the surprise and disgust of the " Drawing-room Staff " in Berlin. CHAPTER XXIII liOTZEN IT was about two in the afternoon when I returned to the " Kaiserhof," and, needless to say, I was in a most reckless mood. The world in general, and the Eastern front in particular, seemed once more at my feet. I felt happy and contented. At the hotel several staff officers came up and " most obediently " presented themselves. We discussed the war and everything pertaining to it over some atrocious brandy, misnamed French cognac. Right here I should like to record my impression that one of Germany's greatest disappointments, next to her failure to reach Paris, was Russia's stubborn resistance. There at Lotzen, amongst men surely as well informed as any with regard to conditions in Russia, there were very few who expected her to hold out beyond Christmas (1915). Not only did they expect an absolute mili- tary debacle, but they claimed that her political con- dition was such that the people before long would rise en masse against the military regime. Much was ex- pected from the many German ramifications in Russia, which seem to be more extensive than people in other countries realise. Germany calculated, and I am sure does so still, on a separate peace with Russia. This attitude was rather astonishing to me, because I know that the German General Staff is in closer touch with affairs in Russia than in any other belligerent country. Paswell, whom I have mentioned elsewhere, also told me that a revolution was imminent. He assured me 177 178 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL that the Russians were getting very tired of bearing the whole brunt of this war, and of being expected to march to Berlin while the Western Allies were simply sitting tight. He claimed that Petrograd was of the opinion that the Western Allies could have seriously menaced, if not entirely prevented, the great German Eastern of- fensive. My informant, who, as I have already said, was intimately acquainted with the country, declared that there had grown up a most warm and loyal feeling towards Japan. The semi-official Novoe Fremya re- marked editorially that in case of a Japanese war with a " certain great Power," she could count on Russia's gratitude. Japan is said to have sent one hundred and forty large siege guns, with full Japanese personnel, to the Russian front. In Lotzen, which is in the centre of the Masurian Lake district, where heavy fighting took place last year, bright yellow posters were displayed at different cor- ners, on the station walls, and on almost every house outside the little town. They were " Instructions to Scavengers." A list was given of the approximate re- wards for arms and material found on the battle-fields, and in the same breath dire threats of fines and impris- onments against all those who did not at once give up everything of military value found anywhere on the field of operations. I subsequently noticed those yellow pasters wherever we went during my trip along the Eastern front, in Poland as well as in East Prussia. They were usually displayed in triplicate — i.e., in German, Polish and Russian. I have seen them mentioned in the Allied newspapers as if these scavenger orders and regulations were of recent institution. They were looked upon as a sign LOTZEN 179 that Germany is beginning to feel the pinch. All I can say is, that such orders were promulgated the day war started. I saw some of them dated August 12th, 1914. The rewards offered are very meagre. Usually the material is taken to the nearest town hall, where it is valued, and the finder receives one per cent, reward. It takes an awful lot of scrap iron and steel to repre- sent one hundred marks — i.e., one mark ( 24 cents ) reward. Of course, the natives soon found that it was hardly worth while to pick up things, unless you could do it by the cart-load. The result was that in many places we passed through, where the fighting had been ver}' intense, the ground M'as simply strewn with battle remnants of all sorts — cannon, rifles, swords, lances, shell-cases, machine-guns, axles, etc., etc. I must plead guilty to having been a souvenir hunter in those early days, so I collected a splendid number of relics. Alas ! subsequent events in Berlin, which necessitated a some- what hurried departure, forced me to leave the major part of my luggage behind. In the afternoon an amusing incident took place in the public dining-room of the hotel. " The Kaiserhof " at Lotzen is a sort of half-way house for officers who are going on or returning from leave. A mud-stained young lieutenant of the reserve straight from the trenches dropped in at the hotel and ordered a meal. When it came there was no bread with it. He ordered some and was asked for his bread-ticket. Of course, not having slept in the hotel the previous night, he had none. Well, no ticket, no bread. He called for the head waiter, then for the manager, and raised a fine old rumpus. I never saw a man so mad, not even a Ger- man. He raised heaven and earth, and swore like a regular trooper (German version). His " Himmel- kreuzdonnerwetterrrrrrrrrrrs . . ." rolled through the 180 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL dining-room of the dingy place like a machine-gun on corrugated-iron trench roofs. " Here we are getting killed for you beastly canaille" he shouted at the landlord and his assistant, " and when we come from the trenches we can't even get a piece of bread, and this all through your damned red tape." Now the young lieutenant, when he started the row, evidently did not know that the other half of the hotel was reserved for tiie officers of Hindenburg's Staff. Some of them heard the noise and sent for the landlord. When they learned about the young lieutenant, a Staff captain entered the dining-room. The reserve lieu- tenant swallowed the other half of his oath, jumped into position, napkin tucked under his chin, got very red, and, to all appearances, felt most uncomfortable. He behaved just like a naughty schoolbo}^ caught red- handed by his master. And then the Staff captain had his say, and the poor lieutenant, or what was left of him, continued his breadless meal in silence, paid for his bill, and forthwith departed. I think of the lot he had my sympathies. Numbers of Russian prisoners were working in the streets shovelling snow, all their worldly belongings slung in a haversack on their backs. Only a few of them looked unhappy. The " Nitchewo " (" no-mat- ter ") spirit seems to be their greatest and never-failing comfort. They worked away, talked and smiled at each other, and seemed on excellent terms with their guards. What fine fellows they were ! During that trip I saw several Russians over six feet six in height ; six-footers were common amongst them. What excellent fighting material ! But there was noth- ing of the tragic, hungry, hunted look in their faces which I have noticed again and again on the Western LOTZEN 181 front, in the faces of German prisoners. Those Rus- sians, at least the majority of them, appeared con- tented and satisfied. But, then, the Russian soldier is a philosopher. The name " Lotzen " will always be identified in my mind with one of the funniest war pictures I have wit- nessed during the two years I spent wandering through the various belligerent countries. There were about twenty officers staying at the little hotel. Fifteen of these were allowed to go to bed " im ganzen " — i.e., freely translated, " entirely," " alto- gether " ; really meaning that they were permitted to undress fully. Of course, the majority of them profited by this permission and went to bed fairly early. (On campaign, as every soldier will tell you, it is a golden rule to sleep and eat whenever you have the chance.) Having travelled the greater part of the previous night, I, of course, made njy excuses early. I was in bed by ten. Shortly before midnight I was awakened by a commotion in the corridor. There was a tre- mendous hullabaloo, running and talking. Fearing that the old ramshackle wooden structure was on fire, I quickly jumped out of bed, and clad in my pyjamas and dressing-gown, proceeded downstairs. I heard voices in the mess-room, so thither I went. When I opened the door I was almost struck dumb. If I live to be a hundred I shall not forget that sight. There were nine officers in the room, ranging in age from twenty-five to fifty, I should judge, every single one of them dressed in the classic German garment of respectability — a long night-gown. Some of them still held their burning candlesticks ; three of them wore a " Schnurrbartbinde " (moustache bandage, put on at night to preserve the correct shape) ; two of them wore a common red and 182 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL brown check flannel dressing-gown. They were all crowding round a young Staff officer, who was reading aloud a despatch from General Mackensen. The news that had roused the Staff in such unmartial gear from their beds, was that twenty-two thousand Russians, including two Generals, had been taken prisoner some- where or other in Poland, about one hundred miles away. I felt very much out of it in the solitary splendour of my pyjamas; much more so than I did when fully dressed. They read the despatch to me, of course, but I don't think they approved of my appearance. As the author of " Elisabeth and her German Garden " would say, they cannot understand the idea of putting on a coat and trousers on going to bed. The picture of those nine night-gowned German officers, — some of the nighties had red cross-stitch borders and little tasselled neck cords — their big un- gainly feet in large felt slippers, their hair all rumpled up, the old major with the tassels of his soiled flannel dressing-gown dangling and dancing behind him, an eld- erly captain wearing a nightcap, the curious effect of light and shade caused by the lighted candles, and the way they were held — well, it is one of the few really bright and humorous spots on this great tragic canvas of war. CHAPTER XXIV EN ROUTE THE day following my meeting with Hindenburg, a Staff officer, Captain Wagner, called at my hotel with a powerful military automobile, with two men seated in front. Our start was bad. I almost infuriated my guide. He was a man at least fifteen years my senior, and I insisted, or at least tried to insist, on his sitting on my right-hand side. But he would not hear of it, and, finally, in exasperation ex- claimed : " Aber ich bitte doch, mein Herr, wir kennen ja unsere Manieren " (" But I beg of you, sir, we know our manners"). Of course, his protests were accom- panied by salutes and heel-clicking. " Oh, Lord," I thought, " this is really too much. A representative of a British newspaper arguing with a German officer about precedence." Well, far was it from me to make him feel bad, and so, amidst the wondering gaze of many bystanders, both military and civil, I took my seat, and off we went to- wards Goldap. The journey itself took us the better part of three hours. Again I had occasion to notice what a bleak, barren, desolate country East Prussia is. One might have imagined oneself somewhere in the prairies of Saskatchewan, or any other Western Canadian prov- ince in winter-time. Sometimes we drove for miles with- out seeing any sign of habitation. The roads were well built, and, in most places, though it had been snowing off and on for several weeks, in excellent condition. 183 184 BEHIND THE GERMAN VEIL Large transports of prisoners were the most notable feature of the journey. There must have been thou- sands and thousands of them. Frequently the com- mander of the prison transport, at sight of our car, and on hearing the Staff signal, " Ta-ri-ta-ta," not only ordered a halt, but made the prisoners turn about, so that their backs were towards the car, while the convoy with loaded rifles stood guard behind them. I asked my companion the why and the wherefore of this, and he explained that they had had trouble now and then with certain of the Russian prisoners, who, for some reason or other, aroused from their phlegmatism, had attacked their guards and officers. I did not like this arrangement at all. I heard many stories of whole Russian battalions deserting and presenting themselves at the German outposts, performing there, like so many trained animals, the classic trick of bringing the right hand up to their mouth, at the same time chewing a very imaginary bit of food. " Yes, sir," so I was told many times, " they came in large herds, and all had the same dumb story to tell." Huh! that reminds me somewhat of incidents at the Belgian front. There every German prisoner was a " Familienvater, vier Kinder, vier ! " ( " father of a family, four children " ) , and the number of children frequently increased in the same ratio as the fears and uncertainties of the prisoner. But to return to our Russian friends. Here is a good story I heard from my captain guide. A few weeks before my visit to the East, they had caught in the German lines a Russian officer in civilian clothes. What do you suppose hap- pened to him? Shot as a spy, of course, you say. You are quite mistaken. How can you think such an inhuman thing of the gentle Huns? Why, that Rus- sian officer had only dressed himself in civilian clothes a Q £ N