Ways of War and Peace

He was shut up for several hours with a delegation who had invited him down. I have no idea what transpired at that important meeting, for no new work was undertaken to get us out of Germany. He was busy telling us about his hardships and that it had taken him thirty hours to make a five-hour trip. He got busy looking after the passports of those who were fortunate enough to have them and making a record of those who wanted them. He promised to get them emergency passports signed with the biggest red seals he had. As he spoke to each one of us in turn he asked for the name of some relative or friend in the United States, adding that if anything happened to us he could notify our friends at home. When the Americans worried him about how we should get home, he assured us that transports would be sent over in due time to get us all back safely.

On hearing this, my mother brought me before the vice-consul and asked him what he thought of our going to Holland by way of Berlin. The very question seemed to frighten him, for he argued that if it took thirty-two hours to make a five-hour trip, it might take weeks to go from Bavaria to Holland. He was sure that some of the tracks had been pulled up and that some of the rails and bridges might be laid with bombs. He argued that even if we escaped these difficulties we might be thrown out on the fields any time and might have to run miles crossing the frontiers. He said that the small coupés were so crowded with people that he had seen men and women stand at the stations for hours while the more fortunate ones were crushed into third-class coupés or into baggage cars. My mother was then resolved not to move until our government should send transports to take us home and we should go home in a private car. I said nothing, but had my eyes set on Holland as my goal.

A few days later I happened to go into the Holland American agency and told the man to wire to Rotterdam and see if he could get us a room. To my surprise and delight I was informed the following week that we could have a whole cabin on the Rotterdam, sailing on the 29th of August. Then my mother refused to pay the fifty dollars down, for she was confident that the Holland American ships would not run. I kept her in the office to hold the telegram while I tore up hill to consult a successful business man from St. Louis as to whether I should pay fifty dollars down on what seemed to be a good chance. He argued that woman's intuition was often better than a man's reason and that I should follow out my original plan. I won my mother over to our way of thinking by telling her what she had still left in American Express checks and that she could use them instead of money. When we had secured a cabin I felt as rich as John Bull does since he has secured control of the English Channel. Hardly a day passed but I looked at the ticket to see that it had not been lost. Then I began to tell people at the sanitarium and wired my friends in Berlin advising them how to get out of Germany.

By this time the first mobilization was over and there was an interim of about ten days before the calling of the Landsturm, which meant the boys from twenty-one to twenty-five and the men from forty to forty-five.

The ticket agent told us that we could go at any time, that the longer we waited the worse it would become, and that by delay we were considerably reducing our chances for getting away. He could sell us tickets for a stretch but that there were no more through tickets to be had. In contradiction to this statement, the doctor who had the sanitarium said that he had been at a committee meeting of the railroads and they admitted that there were many hardships in trying to get away at present. Every day I noticed men and women hurrying to the station carrying their hand luggage, and letting the maids from the pensions carry their small trunks.

There was an Hungarian couple at our sanitarium who had been waiting for weeks to get back to Budapest. One day the woman told me she had bought provisions for five days and they were going to start the next morning, for she thought they could make the trip in five days. This gave me new courage, for I believed that if she could get back to Budapest I could get to Berlin. At the same time I heard that long-distance telephone connections with Berlin had been reopened. After trying for some hours, I made a connection and got some friends who were stopping there. To my surprise, they told me that our Embassy in Berlin had chartered a special train and they were to be off in the morning. Still, I did not give up hope that I would meet them in Holland. The next morning I went off and bought two dress-suitcases and a straw basket, which were to hold my most prized treasures. I put on my good spring suit, jammed three good dresses and more than a dozen waists, set aside one winter hat, and a cape to carry on my arm. Then I proceeded to unpack the jewelry case and put the jewelry into satchels.

By the time I was ready to get my Swiss courier he was gone, so I had to take a swarthy German, who had acted as interpreter at the post-office, as a substitute. When the doctor called that afternoon and saw a stranger in my mother's room he wanted to know what he was doing. I admitted that we were planning to leave the next day and intended taking him as our aide. Another storm broke on the calm, for the doctor argued that neither was my mother strong enough nor I courageous enough to make the journey alone. I said little but thought much, and was determined that it must be now or never. I ate up in my room that evening, for I did not want to talk it over with anybody and wanted to finish on my own impulse. Our chambermaid, Marie, was both surprised and worried when she heard that we were going, and said: "Think over it well, for the geheimrath knows best." That night I was so feverish that I could not sleep and I told my mother that she must decide for herself, but that my advice was for her to go. In the morning there was another discussion as to whether I should take my French books and notebooks. My mother and maid said that if they were found on me I would be arrested as a spy, but I was determined to take a chance and I am glad now that I did.

A strange incident occurred that morning when the Swiss man whom I had at first secured returned, and the German appeared a few minutes later. Our maid and a porter favored the Swiss man, so I compromised by paying the other man five dollars for his trouble. I left my mother to pack the odds and ends and to give the final decision that we were going while I went back to the minister of war to get the permission to leave. We took our luncheon in our room as we did not wish to be bombarded with questions, but a number of friends heard that we were going and they came to wish us Godspeed, brought us candy and cookies, and begged us to take letters to friends across the sea.

When we reached the station we found it guarded and patroled by soldiers and no one could pass the gate without showing both a ticket and pass. It was even more difficult to get three seats in a coupé, for a Russian family was taking care of a sick man and said they had only places for their nurses. When we ventured into another compartment a German woman with her grandson tried to keep us out. After we had become friendly she admitted her reason was that I looked like a Russian and she refused to ride in the same compartment with a Russian woman.

We only rode a short distance when we had to get down and wait for another train going toward Berlin. We loaded up our compartment with six bottles of strawberry selzer, as we were more thirsty than hungry. At six o'clock we found ourselves seated in a small primitive station restaurant crowded with people. Among them were several active officers and a number of retired officers on their way to Berlin. After supper I was talking with one of the petty officers, who said that they were hopeful though they knew they had hard battle ahead. Moreover, they would never forget the friendly attitude America had shown them in this terrible world war. It was twelve o'clock before we were allowed to go through the gates and another hour before our train pulled out. The conductor explained that we would have to wait an hour until an Italian train had passed. He suggested that we should take great care in crossing the railroad tracks and when we got into our seats we should not change, the reason I do not know. There were signs posted on the window, "Keep your heads in and beware of bombs." This frightened my mother so that she would not move, but I was too curious to see what was going on outside to obey orders. For one hour a half-dozen guards went over the tracks looking for bombs and then they came into our coupé looking for spies. At one o'clock we were wondering if we would ever reach Berlin without being blown up with bombs. I had a weird, strange feeling, for I saw heads now and then bobbing up in the distance. I thought they were ghosts at first, but finally discovered that they were only cavalrymen riding in the baggage car. It was nearly four o'clock when I became so exhausted that I could keep awake no longer and slept for an hour and a half in an upright position. My travelling companions, including my mother and a Norwegian woman going to Christiania, were more fortunate in this respect. We had breakfast at Weimar, and I could hardly think of this lovely Saxon city and the center of German culture, the home of Goethe and Schiller, being disturbed by war. The large station was crowded with soldiers watching for spies. As usual, one of the soldiers believed that I was a Russian, and he was surprised to find my passport identified me as an American. I should not have minded being thought a Russian if they had not looked upon the most unsuspected people of Russia as spies. We reached Erfurt, which is known as the garden of Germany, for its beautiful flowers. Here my mother introduced me to a handsome German boy, seventeen years old, who had volunteered and was hurrying to Kiel to be accepted into the navy.