and down the bank, vainly seeking a boat or raft with
which to make the crossing. We finally discovered a large bridge,
which was submerged except for its flood-time arches. There was no
sign of life and it looked safe, so we proceeded to cross. We
discovered, however, that we had not reached the bridge proper, but
were merely on the approach to it. We dropped off onto the main steel
portion. The wind beat the cold rain against us so that we could
neither see nor hear. However, we went on and were nearly across when
suddenly a light flashed on us and we heard a startled "Halt!"

We could barely make out the mass of buildings that indicated the line
of the shore. It seemed too bad to throw up the sponge so easily.

I said under my breath to Simmons: "We'll push right on," and loudly:
"Hollander!" thinking we might perhaps get far enough away to make a
run for it. But there was no show: It was too far to the shore.

There was a shouted command and the clatter of rifle-bolts striking
home. It was no use. We stopped and shouted that we would not run, and
then waited while they advanced toward us.

The elderly Landsturmers guarding the bridge gathered us in and took
us over to their guardroom at the hotel. We judged the incident to be
an epoch in the monotony of their soldierly duties. They were very
good to us. Two of them moved away from the fire to make room for our
wet misery and they gave us a pot of boiling water, two bivouac cocoa
tablets and a loaf of black bread. The news spread, and civilians
dropped in to stare at and question us. In the morning the entire
population came to see the _Englaender_ prisoners. We learned that we
were only four miles from Holland, and cursed aloud. The town was
Lathen and when, the next morning, we discovered that it was gayly
bedecked with flags and bunting we decided that we were indeed
personages of note if we could cause such a celebration. However, it
was only the Kaiser's birthday.

In the afternoon they took us by rail to Meppen and shoved us in the
civilian jail, where we were allowed a daily ration of two ounces of
black bread, one pint of gruel and three-quarters of a pint of coffee
for two days, until, on January thirtieth, an escort came from
Vehnmoor. They roped us together with a clothes-line, arm to arm, and
marched us through the principal streets by a roundabout route to the
station so that all might see.

We were unwashed, unshaven and so altogether disreputabl