Welsh Journals

No Russian subject could pass into Germany that Saturday night. War had been declared three hours before between Russia and Germany. Germany would accept no more refugees, the officials feared. Even a Russian girl was not allowed to pass and join her mother in Paris. Leaning out of the carriage window a number of Russian refugees who had just reached their own land came and begged us for Russian money. At last we steamed slowly into the silence of Eydtkuhnen. The difference over the border was startling, uncanny. In the distance we heard the tread of soldiers as they disentrained they were singing" die wacht am Rhein." It was about the only sound that we heard; there was here no bustle, no disorder, and yet we heard that great numbers of soldiers were arriving all night, that three army corps had already arrived but I think the officer who told me that was bragging. The waiting rooms were filled with refugees. We saw one man made prisoner. Was he a spy or a conscript ? We were glad to leave that mysteriously silent frontier station, where not a soldier could be seen and their singing was the only sound. An Englishman who had been outside to get food was assured by a German officer that England would take the side of Germany. I told him he was wildly mistaken, he said. As we sat in the train in the middle of Saturday night we heard shots being fired; afterwards we learnt that there had been continual skirmishing round Eydtkuhnen. We had not been more than an hour on our way to Koenigsberg when a very fat German officer and a friend, who wore some sort of military badge which I did not understand, got into our compartment. They seemed to be uproariously happy with themselves and affairs in general. They asked me where I'd come from and where I was going. When I told them that I had come from Russia, they seemed amazed they thought we should have been stopped at the frontier with the Grand Duke Constan- tine. Have you heard what's been happening in Russia they next asked, there's been a revolu- tion." They also said that there was not the slightest chance of getting through Germany, before every train was stopped; but they gave us information which enabled us to catch an express at Koenigsberg for Berlin. All that night people were travelling in every direction. All across Germany the military organization seemed perfect-every man seemed to be already in his place. At Dirschau soldiers held revolvers at the carriage windows to prevent anyone from damaging the bridge. We had great difficulty in obtaining food, for we were not allowed to enter the restaurant car by some of the more objectionable Germans on the train others, however, courteously brought food for us in their pockets, and, in addition, supplied us with all the information they could. When we reached Berlin on Sunday evening, every- one seemed to be in the streets. Vehicles were scarce, the government having commandeered horses, women were streaming across the road in their light summer dresses, and buying the small, one-sheet bulletins that were being sold everywhere. We found some Russian refugees in the station and told them that the frontier was closed they told us of the unpleasantnesses to which they were subjected in the streets. We were not personally molested, as the British attitude was not yet determined, but we were warned by a German in the train on no account to remain in Berlin longer than was necessary. That evening we had dinner at the Hotel Central. We had just finished when the news of some German success came in by telegram. Immediately there was a wild scene of jubilation. On all sides they rose and sang the National Anthem; then in great excitement they proceeded to turn on the unfortunate Russians, of whom we had noticed a good number, and hustled them out of the restaurant, the women screaming in terror the men, we are told, were made prisoners and sent to the fortress at Spandau, to be used later for gathering in the harvest. On our return to the railway station we found that we must change stations. Motoring through the Unter den Linden we saw a crowd of people suddenly starting a procession. They rode on the tops of carriages and waved flags, cheering wildly. Just in time, a policeman opened a way for us into a side street. We got a train to Flushing that night. Hundreds were left behind quieted with a promise of another train shortly; once more we set out on our wild dash through Europe. On Monday we got to Hassam on the Dutch frontier; here were hundreds of German refugees, for the most part young men going back to join the army. They also were eager to change money. The boat waited ten hours for the second train from Berlin, but it never arrived and at last we got away from Rushing. Next morning we landed at Folkestone and found a train waiting to take us up to London. After what we had been through the calm normality of England seemed very strange. We thanked God for the fact that it was an island. Summing up my impressions of the various countries, I think the most notable differences were these. Russia was all preparation and anxious activity; Germany machine-like order, excitement and jubilation; Holland seemed to be mobilized in