oined here by Jerry Burke of the 8th Battalion of Winnipeg.
He was a nephew of Sir Sam Hughes, the then Canadian Minister of
Militia and had just made his escape from some other camp.

We were to have left on the fifth with a fleet of boats which sailed
then. By the time we had got on board, however, the sailors from the
first boat were returning. They had been torpedoed. And that stopped
us.

We got away on the S.S. _Grenadier_ on the sixteenth, and after
hugging the length of the English Coast, arrived safely at
Newcastle-upon-Tyne on the eighteenth.

Here our troubles began!

CHAPTER XX

"IT'S A WAY THEY HAVE IN THE ARMY"

Red Tape in the Army--A Disgruntled Soldier--"Old Soldier, Old
Fox"--A Touch for Twenty Quid--_Augen Rechts_ at Seaford--Canada!

My family in Canada have since remarked that although my letters had
invariably been cheerful throughout my imprisonment, from the time I
set foot on English soil they reflected the deepest despondency. That
could be explained in part by the fact that uncheerful letters could
not pass the German but could pass the British censor. But more
particularly it was due to the fact that I became entangled in the
interminable red tape of the army system, and, instead of meeting with
the warm sympathy that an exile longs for, met, on the part of the
army, with cold suspicion; however kind some individuals were to me.

Simmons and I were not permitted to leave the boat until the military
came for us. So far so good. We were taken to the headquarters of the
General Officer Commanding that district. He briefly examined us and
good-naturedly gave us some money out of his own pocket and tickets to
London, where we were ordered to report at the War Office.

Arriving in "The Smoke," as the army has named that city, we proceeded
the next morning to 14 Downing Street and sent our names in to the
official we had been directed to by the general. He was in mufti,
whoever he was, and received us kindly enough. We were closely
questioned about our experiences, particularly in relation to our
guards, food, treatment, and so on. He also asked us as to the amount
of sickness among the prisoners, the condition of the country, and so
on.

Dismissed, we made a dash down past Big Ben and the Parliament
Buildings for the Canadian Pay and Record Office, where at Millbank it
overlooked the Thames. A sergeant took our names and after a time took
us, too, in to the paymaster. Simmo