So we promised him, each on his word of
honor, that we would do this; and he insisted that we should shake hands
with him as a pledge and as a token of mutual confidence, which we
accordingly did. Altogether it was quite an impressive little
ceremonial--and rather dramatic, I imagine.
As he left us, however, he was heard, speaking in German, to say sotto
voce to one of the guards:
"If one of those journalists tries to slip away don't take any chances--
shoot him at once!"
It is so easy to keep one's honor intact when you have moral support in
the shape of an earnest-minded German soldier, with a gun, stepping
along six feet behind you. My honor was never safer.
Chapter 6
With the German Wrecking Crew
When we came out of the little taverne at Beaumont, to start--as we
fondly supposed--for Brussels, it was pitch dark in the square of the
forlorn little town. With us the polite and pleasant fiction that we
were guests of the German authorities had already worn seedy, not to say
threadbare, but Lieutenant Mittendorfer persisted in keeping the little
romance alive.
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