Sixteen Months in Four German Prisons | Page 8

substantial breakfast.
Then I sauntered into the vestibule for a smoke. Three German officers
and a squad of soldiers came clanking in. There was a short sharp order.
One officer remained at the door while the others disappeared into the
depths of the building.
I went over to the officer and entered into conversation with him. He
spoke English fluently and was fairly affable. We discussed things in
general and also the political situation, from which I gathered that
matters were rapidly approaching a climax, and that there was no
telling what would happen next. This was the first time I had been
brought face to face with the situation and my outlook was serious. The
officer at last turned to me, and with a friendly smile, remarked--
"Look here, my English friend, I would advise you to make for your
country at once. Don't stop for anything!"
"Why?"
"Don't ask questions. Do as I say! Can't you take a friendly warning?
Take to-day's train home! If you don't--well, you may be detained!"

His advice was expressed in such significant tones that I looked at him
sharply. He answered with another smile and a shrug which intimated
only too plainly that he had said as much as he dared.
I was debarred from prosecuting the conversation farther by the return
of his comrades with a crowd of waiters. They were all Russians and
they had been rounded up by the military. No opportunity was given
them to pack a few necessities. They were arrested at their tables, while
performing their duties, were corralled and now were off to prison. No
one possessed any more than he stood up in.
I followed them down the street, intending to proceed to the British
Consulate. The streets were full of soldiers and the air rang with martial
music. While proceeding to the Consulate I became aware that I was
being shadowed. An individual resolutely dogged me. I had seen him
previously but had taken no serious notice of his presence. Now he
began to get a bit irksome. I bought some picture post-cards and
addressed them to friends at home, announcing my immediate return,
also introducing brief comments on the condition of things in Berlin as
they appeared to me. A few hours later I regretted writing those
post-cards.[2]
[Footnote 2: Upon my return to England I made enquiries and
discovered that not a single one had been received. Undoubtedly they
were stopped by the German military authorities and contributed
somewhat materially to my subsequent troubles.--H.C.M.]
The Consulate was besieged by hundreds of compatriots thirsting for
guidance as to what to do. After waiting an hour-and-a-half I secured
an audience. I briefly explained my position.
"Get home at once. The train leaves 1.13 mid-day."
"But I've got luggage worth £400 at the station!"
"Get home!"
"But--"

"Leave your luggage where it is!"
"Do you think--?"
"You take the 1.13 train. Good morning."
Further enquiries convinced me that the 1.13 was very likely to be the
last train which would leave Berlin for Britain, so I scurried off to the
station to recover my luggage. Many of the photographic instruments
were exceedingly valuable because they had been made specially. I was
bandied from one official to another. At last I alighted upon one who
knew something. He led me to a huge building and flung open the door.
It was stacked from floor to roof with baggage, which had been packed
in without any semblance of order. I surveyed the pile ruefully. I asked
him if he could trace my luggage but he shook his head. I held out a
tempting pourboire. It was of no avail. If I wanted the luggage I could
look for it myself. Reflecting that some six weeks at least would be
required to complete the search I concluded that I should have to leave
it behind willy-nilly. So somewhat depressed I prepared to leave by the
1.13 train.
The express was heavily laden and to it was attached a carriage
reserved for the military, who were accompanying the departing
Britishers to the frontier. Curiously enough, not one of us knew
definitely what had happened. Rumour was busy, but it was
inconclusive. The general feeling was that Britain had taken some
drastic action which must have serious results, otherwise we should not
have been bundled home so hurriedly.
We had been travelling some time when I noticed a lady sauntering
along the corridor vainly searching for a seat. I was comfortable, but I
instantly surrendered my place to assume a standing position in the
corridor where I chatted with several fellow-travellers. I may say that
slung over my shoulder was a black leather strap carrying a small
camera case in the manner frequently affected by tourists. Ever after I
have cursed