hurt but their minds were
cheerful; but the wounded of the Prussian Guard--the proudest
military force in the world--who had come back to their home town
decimated and humbled--these Guards formed the most amazing
agglomeration of broken men I have ever encountered. As to the
numbers of them, of these five Reserve regiments but few are
believed to be unhurt. Vast numbers were killed, and most of the
rest are back at Potsdam in the ever growing streets of hospitals
that are being built on the Bornstadterfeld.

One of the trains had just stopped. The square was blocked with
vehicles of every description. I was surprised to find the great
German furniture vans, which by comparison with those used in
England and the United States look almost like houses on wheels,
were drawn up in rows with military precision. As if these were
not enough, the whole of the wheeled traffic of Potsdam seemed to
be commandeered by the military for the lightly wounded--cabs,
tradesmen's wagons, private carriages--everything on wheels except,
of course, motor-cars, which are non-existent owing to the rubber
shortage. Endless tiers of stretchers lay along the low embankment
sloping up to the line. Doctors, nurses, and bearers were waiting
in quiet readiness.

The passengers coming out of the station, including the women with
the tall baskets, stopped, but only for a moment. They did not
tarry, for the police, of which there will never be any dearth if
the war lasts thirty years, motioned them on, a slight movement of
the hand being sufficient.

I was so absorbed that I failed to notice the big constable near me
until he laid his heavy paw upon my shoulder and told me to move
on. A schoolmaster and his wife, his _Rucksack_ full of lunch, who
had taken advantage of the glorious sunshine to get away from
Berlin to spend a day amidst the woods along the Havel, asked the
policeman what the matter was.

The reply was "_Nichts hier zu sehen_" ("Nothing to be seen here.
Get along!"). The great "Hush! Hush! Hush!" machinery of Germany
was at work.

Determined not to be baffled, I moved out of the square into the
shelter of a roadside tree, on the principle that a distant view
would be better than none at all, but the police were on the alert,
and a police lieutenant tackled me at once. I decided to act on
the German military theory that attack is the best defence, and,
stepping up to him, I stated, that I was a newspaper correspondent.