orth Sea, sir?"

"No, my dear Cotton, the soup is thicker; the German fleet is back in
the Kiel Canal."

It was the beginning of the third week of my sojourn in Osnabruck,
when I was told one day that I was to proceed next morning to
Blenhorst camp to appear before the Swiss Commission. Three other
officers were also to go, including Rogan.

Cotton was to accompany me, and we made great preparation for the
journey, packing in a tin box biscuits and cheese, chocolate and
sardines; for although an officer is charged just the same for his
full day's ration, the Germans have a habit of sending him on a long
day's journey without food.

We started off at about 6 o'clock the next morning in high glee; for
whatever the result of the Swiss Commission might be, there was the
journey to Blenhorst to break the monotony of Osnabruck.

We had to change trains several times, and in the station restaurants
we had much the same experience as I have described on my journey from
Hanover.

In one restaurant we could only obtain a slice of ham as thin as
tissue-paper, and in another a very small sausage; and yet the German
people we passed in the streets had no appearance of being short of
food, or suffering any hardships in this respect. The people in the
streets, I understand, looked just as contented and well fed as the
people in England.

The station for Blenhorst is about eight miles from the camp. A large
flat, open lorry was sent to meet us to carry our baggage, but as our
belongings were for the most part carried in our pockets, it was
unnecessary for that purpose.

It then dawned upon our two guards, who had no more desire to walk
than we had, that we might ride on the lorry ourselves. They obtained
a form to hold four, and we four officers occupied this seat on the
open lorry, Cotton sitting on the floor, while the two guards sat
together behind us, with their feet dangling over the side.

That ride I shall never forget. Perhaps it was because I was blind
that the situation seemed so ridiculously funny. The single-horsed
lorry was pulled slowly through the rough, cobbled streets in sudden
jerks, which sent our legs flying in the air, giving the form a tilt;
and I expected every minute that we would all four turn a double
somersault over the heads of our guards behind, and fall into the road
like clowns at a circus.

Imagine the picture, an open lorry on a bitterly cold day going
through the streets of a small German