e head of the
American Relief Committee at The Hague, asked me to help him in
taking charge of two carloads of grain, which were to go across the
German border and be distributed among the starving Belgians at
Liege. England had agreed not to interfere with food supplies,
provided the United States saw that they did not fall into German
hands in Belgium. The present job required sleeping in the freight
cars and saying, in one form or another, "Hands off!" to every spiked
helmet that tried to interfere. Captain Sunderland could speak no
German, and as I had already been over the same territory and had
had some experience with the military authorities, he wished me to
accompany him.

I decided, however, to go into the interior of Germany. I had already
seen three armies in the field, and had watched, more or less closely,
the people of two warring nations. I was now particularly anxious to
study the German point of view, and if possible get to the front with
the Crown Prince's army.

For such a purpose I considered that I carried good enough
credentials. In addition to a packet of mail for Ambassador Gerard,
my letter from ex-President Roosevelt, and my United States
passport, which had been vised by Herr von Mueller, German
Ambassador at The Hague, I now carried a special laissez-passer
which Mr. Marshall Langhorne had been kind enough to secure for
me from the same legation. I had a letter from Count von Bernstorff,
whom I had seen the night he arrived in America, and a letter from
Herr von Biel, Secretary of the German Embassy at The Hague,
recommending me to the Foreign Office in Berlin. Professor Hugo
Munsterberg had taken the trouble to send me a note to Dr. R. W.
Drechsler, head of the American Institute in Berlin, and I had also a
letter to the head of the University of Berlin.

It was a five-hours' run from The Hague to Bentheim, a small country
village on the German frontier. The train stopped a quarter of a mile
north of the border. Dutch officials came aboard to examine
passports and baggage of every passenger. They were good-natured
and talkative, and did not go minutely into details, as those leaving
the country were less carefully watched than "immigrants." Me,
however, they mistook for an Englishman (as was usually the case in
Germany) and told me I could not cross the frontier. A Dutch
manufacturer, with whom I had struck up an acquaintance, explained
my identity, and the official, who lo