or the Ypres salient. I would have
liked to talk to them, but officially of course I knew no German, and
the conversation I overheard did not signify much. It was mostly about
regimental details, though one chap, who was in better spirits than the
rest, observed that this was the last Christmas of misery, and that
next year he would be holidaying at home with full pockets. The others
assented, but without much conviction.

The winter day was short, and most of the journey was made in the dark.
I could see from the window the lights of little villages, and now and
then the blaze of ironworks and forges. We stopped at a town for
dinner, where the platform was crowded with drafts waiting to go
westward. We saw no signs of any scarcity of food, such as the English
newspapers wrote about. We had an excellent dinner at the station
restaurant, which, with a bottle of white wine, cost just three
shillings apiece. The bread, to be sure, was poor, but I can put up
with the absence of bread if I get a juicy fillet of beef and as good
vegetables as you will see in the Savoy.

I was a little afraid of our giving ourselves away in our sleep, but I
need have had no fear, for our escort slumbered like a hog with his
mouth wide open. As we roared through the darkness I kept pinching
myself to make myself feel that I was in the enemy's land on a wild
mission. The rain came on, and we passed through dripping towns, with
the lights shining from the wet streets. As we went eastward the
lighting seemed to grow more generous. After the murk of London it was
queer to slip through garish stations with a hundred arc lights
glowing, and to see long lines of lamps running to the horizon. Peter
dropped off early, but I kept awake till midnight, trying to focus
thoughts that persistently strayed. Then I, too, dozed and did not
awake till about five in the morning, when we ran into a great busy
terminus as bright as midday. It was the easiest and most unsuspicious
journey I ever made.

The lieutenant stretched himself and smoothed his rumpled uniform. We
carried our scanty luggage to a _droschke_, for there seemed to be no
porters. Our escort gave the address of some hotel and we rumbled out
into brightly lit empty streets.

'A mighty dorp,' said Peter. 'Of a truth the Germans are a great
people.'

The lieutenant nodded good-humouredly.

'The greatest people on earth,' he said, 'as their enemies will soon
bear witness.'

I w