ly dressed, lounging about. After much useless bowing and
scraping I was again interrogated by an objectionable colonel, but
they seemed used to failure, and soon ceased their efforts. A major
who assisted spoke English well, and made himself quite pleasant till
I left. On hearing that I was in the Devons he told me that on leaving
the university his father had sent him to live at a small village near
Barnstaple, where he had remained for several years. Doubtless, a
hard-working man of leisure! He seemed a very able officer, but
decidedly young for a German major. On being told that all leather
goods were confiscated, I was forced to give up my Sam Brown belt much
against my will. They seemed very familiar with the movements of our
troops, and I noticed that though their telephones were rather large
and clumsy they carried slight sounds very distinctly, so much so,
that when at the other end of the room I could hear practically the
whole conversation.

Towards evening the major told me to get ready to go to Cambrai, and
at the same time said, that as my leather flying coat was also
confiscated they had cut off the fur collar, which he then handed
back. This rather annoyed me, so I told him to keep it, which incident
I regretted afterwards. However, he lent me a German coat, which was
some comfort. On the way to Cambrai we again passed near the lines,
some British star shells being plainly visible. What a difference a
few kilometres make! The Germans depend on their railway transport
more than we do. Certainly their road transport cannot be compared
with ours. We passed a few cars and motor lorries, the majority giving
one the impression that they were falling to bits, so noisy and shabby
were they. I only saw two or three motor cyclists the whole time, and
those I did see rode machines of an antiquated pattern. We passed a
lot of horse transport, nearly all the ambulances in the district
being horse drawn. Most cars, including our own, were only capable of
emitting useless squeaks on emergencies.

Soon we entered Cambrai, an old, picturesque French town, and drew up
at the entrance to the citadel, where a guard allowed us to enter. I
was then left with a Lieutenant Schram, the intelligence officer, who
gave me coffee and cigars and plied me with questions. He was very
anxious to discover all he could about our tanks, and possessed many
supposed models, mostly not in the least like them. He emphasised the
opinion that,