A War-time Journal, Germany 1914 and German Travel Notes | Page 7

are to go to Frankfort, and be
forwarded to the military authorities in Berlin. There is an idea that we
may go away on Tuesday next. We have found out that our passports
never went to Berlin at all, but are lying at this moment in the drawer of
that old demon in the "Polizei-Amt."
August 28th.--Nothing new. The German papers, as usual, full of their
victories and their piety, and their patriotism, and their "Kultur," and
goodness knows what not besides. Both Kaisers praising each other and
distributing iron crosses ad lib., early though it be in the day. No
mention of English troops or England, except to abuse the "Verflüchte"
English.
A train of wounded men arrived yesterday, and bandaged and lame
soldiers are to be seen limping about the town, looking ghastly pale and
ill. At the Lazarett behind the "Prince of Wales' Hotel" there are many
sad cases. The Red Cross Society has made every provision for their
comfort and happiness possible. Sheets have been hemmed, pillow
cases sewn, bandages got ready. The Germans, however, are chary of
admitting English women to share their labours, and those who go and
offer to help meet with a very chilly reception.
August 29th.--An account has come of the battle of St. Quentin. The
"Frankfurter Zeitung" calls it "decisive," and says that the German
army has cut off the English army from its base.

August 30th.--Joy at last! Even the "Frankfurter Zeitung" acknowledges
that there has been a fight in the North Sea, and that we have sunk
German ships, but, of course, it was "overpowering numbers and larger
ships" that did it, and the Germans covered themselves with glory as
usual. I came home and hung out my flag, the best I could do, a red silk
dressing jacket, lined with white, and draped over a blue silk parasol,
which I tied knob out, to look like a pole.
On our church door to-day was posted a typewritten notice: "We have
smashed your army on the French Continent,(!) and we will smash you
too if you dare to ring your bell!"
August 31st.--I heard a small boy singing to-day:
"Wo liegt Paris, Paris liegt Hier, Den fingen drauf' Das nehmen Wir."
I pray it may not prove prophetic, but they all talk of occupying Paris
as a certainty, and the German Emperor has invited a number of his
Generals to dine with him there on the 12th of September. I hear that a
doctor went into the Prince of Wales' Hotel to-day, and saw stuck up in
the hall the words: "Das Seegefecht in der Nordsee" (in which of
course we were victorious). He tore it down and stamped on it. An
altruistic German waiter thinking to please the English guests had put
the first sheet of the "Frankfurter Zeitung" in a prominent position to
console them for the many defeats we are supposed to have had. John
Burns' speech at the Albert Hall is reported in full in the German
newspapers, headed "Eine Rede des ehemaligen Englischen Minister,
John Burns. England gegen seine wahren interessen" (a speech of the
former English minister,[2] John Burns. England against her true
interests). No passports yet! No release! This suspense is wearing!
[Footnote 2: This speech I have since learnt was an absolute invention.]
September 1st.--The sentimentality of the Germans is amazing! They
cannot even insert a simple notice of a death on the battlefield without
this sickly parade, "Heute starb den Heldentod furs Vaterland, unser
innigste-geliebter einziger Sohn," etc. Always a "hero's death" and "for
his Fatherland." A fresh "Bekanntmachung" has appeared, we prisoners

of war are not to leave the town, not to stand in groups ("rotten" they
call it) talking in the streets, to be in our houses at 9 p.m., etc. Two
ex-Frankfort prisoners have been sent for by the Chief of the Police
accused of indiscreet talking. "I hear," said the great man, "you say you
were fed on nothing but bread and water in prison." "No," said Mr. ----,
"I had soup in the middle of the day, and coffee and bread at night, and
in the morning." "Then why do you tell lies!" Such utter childishness,
to believe every scrap of unkind gossip!
September 2nd.--We are buoyed up with hope, as they talk of our
getting away this week! It will be delightful to leave this perpetual
bell-ringing and flag-waving and Vaterlandslieder behind us!
September 3rd.--The whole of Altheim went mad last night,
processions, bands, marchings all night, and such a noise that at last a
nurse had to come out from the Lazarett near the Park and beg the
revellers to think of the poor wounded sick, and spare them. No one
could sleep! The last blow has come, our church is closed!
September 4th.--Despair!