he
military, and fresh schemes for their distribution are inaugurated
every week.

We were still in the days when officers and men of every rank and
every branch of the Army of Occupation used to wait in a democratic
queue for the box-office to open at 10 A.M. It was 9.15 when I took up
my position, beaten a short neck by a very young and haughty officer,
a Second-Lieutenant of the Blankshires. There is always a cold wind
round that corner of the Rudolfplatz, but every officer and every O.R.
turned up his coat-collar, stamped his feet and determined to stick
it. After all, from the time when he waits his turn to receive his
first suit of khaki, every soldier is inured to standing in queues,
and when he has so often stood half-an-hour in a queue for the chance
of a penny bowl of Y.M.C.A. tea he will think nothing of standing
for an hour for a seat at the Opera. For the officers no doubt the
situation had the attraction of novelty.

By the time the office opened the queue reached from the Opera House
steps nearly to the tramway _Haltestelle_, and much speculation was
going on as to how many would be sent empty away. Inch by inch we
moved forward, mounted the steps one by one, and came within the
relative warmth of the vestibule. At last the weary waiting-time was
over; the young subaltern stepped before the _guichet_ and, pointing
to a handbill, demanded in a loud and dignified voice a ticket for
next Monday's performance of "_KEINE VORSTELLUNG_!"

How shall I describe the painful scene that followed--a scene in
which, as a mere Tommy, I had too much discipline to intervene? In
vain the obsequious purveyor of tickets offered a selection of the
world's most popular and celebrated operas for any other day but
Monday. Nothing would do for my officer but _Keine Vorstellung_.
Indeed, as he explained in his best and loudest English, Monday was
his only free evening. _Keine Vorstellung_ he wanted and _Keine
Vorstellung_ he must have. Followed reiteration, expostulation,
vituperation in yet louder English than before, and when at last
he turned away without his ticket he was still convinced that the
authority of the _Britische Besatzung_ had been outraged and defied
by the man behind the window.

I often wonder what he said when the precise meaning of those two
mystic words was revealed, to him. I like to think that it may have
happened at the Requisition Office, whither he had gone to procure an
order to compel that recalc