The Project Gutenberg eBook ofMy Secret Service: Vienna, Sophia, Constantinople, Nish, Belgrade, Asia Minor, etc.

The Project Gutenberg eBook ofMy Secret Service: Vienna, Sophia, Constantinople, Nish, Belgrade, Asia Minor, etc.This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.Title: My Secret Service: Vienna, Sophia, Constantinople, Nish, Belgrade, Asia Minor, etc.Author: Man who dined with the KaiserRelease date: April 29, 2022 [eBook #67951]Most recently updated: October 18, 2024Language: EnglishOriginal publication: United States: George H. Doran Company, 1916Credits: Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY SECRET SERVICE: VIENNA, SOPHIA, CONSTANTINOPLE, NISH, BELGRADE, ASIA MINOR, ETC. ***

This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.

Title: My Secret Service: Vienna, Sophia, Constantinople, Nish, Belgrade, Asia Minor, etc.Author: Man who dined with the KaiserRelease date: April 29, 2022 [eBook #67951]Most recently updated: October 18, 2024Language: EnglishOriginal publication: United States: George H. Doran Company, 1916Credits: Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)

Title: My Secret Service: Vienna, Sophia, Constantinople, Nish, Belgrade, Asia Minor, etc.

Author: Man who dined with the Kaiser

Release date: April 29, 2022 [eBook #67951]Most recently updated: October 18, 2024

Language: English

Original publication: United States: George H. Doran Company, 1916

Credits: Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY SECRET SERVICE: VIENNA, SOPHIA, CONSTANTINOPLE, NISH, BELGRADE, ASIA MINOR, ETC. ***

front

BY THE MAN WHO DINEDWITH THE KAISER

title page

MY SECRETSERVICE

VIENNA, SOPHIA, CONSTANTINOPLE,NISH, BELGRADE, ASIA MINOR, Etc.

THE MAN WHO DINEDWITH THE KAISER

logo

NEW YORKGEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

TOLORD NORTHCLIFFEIN GRATEFUL RECOLLECTIONOF THE KEEN INTEREST HEHAS SHOWN IN THESEADVENTURES, THIS VOLUME ISDEDICATED BY THE AUTHOR

MY SECRET SERVICE

INTRODUCTORY

“Were You Afraid?”—About Myself—War Finds Me in England—The German War-Machine—My Travels—The German Spy System—My Three Journeys—I Become a Workman at Krupp’s—I Travel in Chocolate—My Most Important Trip—The Risks—Proofs—My Reception in England.

I am not a spy, that I wish to make abundantly clear; I am a journalist, and I love my profession. Equally well I love adventure and sport, the greatest sport in the world, in which the stake is the player’s life.

“Were you ever afraid?” a young and charming English girl recently asked me.

“Afraid!” I replied. “Listen! Imagine yourself with two maps next to your skin, each marked with German submarine bases, military works, and the like. Then you are interrogated by half-a-dozen German Secret Service officers. The least hesitation, the slightest faltering in a reply and, at a motionof the hand two German soldiers take you into an adjoining room, strip you, and—ten minutes later you are dead.”

The girl blushed: in my earnestness I had forgotten. Yes! I have been afraid many times; yet, with the gambler’s instinct, I have continued the game which, sooner or later, will probably end in a little episode in which the protagonists will be myself and a firing party—somewhere in the enemy country.

I am a citizen of a neutral country. Those in high places whom it concerns know all about me, have seen my passports, examined what remains of my ticket on the Balkan Express with its perforation “18—1—16,” and can testify from the chain of documents I possess, from which not a link is missing, that I have actually been where I say I have.

When war broke out I found myself in England, and I immediately saw in the terrible struggle great possibilities for myself. I am twenty-six years of age and speak, besides my native tongue, English, German, French and Flemish. I had lived inEngland before the war broke out, and have learned to love it second only to my own country. I was anxious to help in the great struggle, and I determined to try and find out as much as I could about the great German War-Machine. For twelve months I have been engaged upon this interesting task, visiting Frankfurt, Hanau, Neuwied, Essen (and other cities in Germany), Vienna, Buda Pesth, Bucharest, Sofia, Constantinople, Brasso, Rustchouk, Adrianople, Nish, Belgrade, Konia (Asia Minor), etc. Incidentally, I have proved that the German spy system is not so perfect as it is considered by many in this country.

In all I have paid three visits to the enemy countries, each time using the same name, but following a different trade or profession. First I was a workman, and crossed the frontier in shamelessly shabby clothes and with very little impedimenta in the way of luggage. I professed to be a steel-driller, having had a very slight experience in that occupation, obtained for the purpose of my visit. In this guise I penetrated the GermanHoly of Holies, the famous Krupp factories at Essen. Here for some days I worked, until it was discovered what an execrably bad workman I was. Summary and ignominious dismissal followed, but never did a man take his dismissal less to heart than I. I had gathered some interesting and valuable information, and had seen many remarkable things. This was in March, 1915, although the account was not published until February, 1916, as the Censor prohibited my story appearing in the press, no doubt for very good reasons.

My next journey was to Constantinople as a commercial traveller representing a chocolate firm in a neutral country. On this occasion I interviewed Captain von Hersing, and heard from his own lips the account of his wonderful journey in a German submarine (U51) from Wilhelmshaven to Constantinople. I also obtained a great deal of information which was published at the time. This trip was made in June, 1915.

My third trip was by far the most successful. This I made as a journalist,ostensibly on behalf of a leading neutral paper, but in reality forThe Daily Mail. It will be readily understood that these journeys required most careful forethought. It sounds so easy on paper, but in point of fact it requires much energy, and most careful and cunning preparation. One mistake, one careless word, and there is suspicion with, in all probability, a fatal result. I began to understand what must be the feelings of a soldier going into battle. When he enlists he thinks of all the dangers in a detached sort of way, and regrets leaving his dear ones behind, but as soon as he is in the thick of the fight he forgets all else but the clash of battle; so it was with me.

On my third journey I knew that at any moment I might be recognised by one of the countless German spies that seem to spring up everywhere. I was, however, determined to see the thing through and, once in the enemy country, my nervousness seemed to vanish.

It must be remembered that no one could undertake such journeys as mine inwar-time without the assistance of prominent and influential men abroad, and I desire to make what are very inadequate acknowledgments to many distinguished diplomatists in neutral countries, without whose invaluable help I could not have crossed the border into Austria, or, what is far more important, have returned to England.

I quite anticipated that my adventures would be challenged, for they must seem so extraordinary when read in a country where the German Secret Service is regarded as absolutely infallible. So far from this being the case, I have received letters from all sorts of people congratulating me on my return, and not a word of doubt has been raised in any quarter. I was prepared to meet scepticism with documents that no one could refute.

It has also been a source of great gratification to me to know that my discoveries and the information I have accumulated have been of assistance to the Allies, with whom I am in entire sympathy. I have also had the satisfaction of reading in neutral aswell as English newspapers that some of the Kaiser’s most trusted and efficient Secret Service Agents have been dismissed andaides-de-campsuspended.

I have received at the hands of many distinguished and notable Englishmen nothing but kindness. They have examined my proofs, not with suspicion but with the keenest possible interest, and they have embarrassed me with their congratulations. My invariable reply to these touching tributes has been that I owe to England much; she has given to me many friends and shown me great hospitality, and if anything that I have done can help her in the least degree, I shall always regard myself as a privileged person.

VIENNA IN WAR TIME

I Set Out for the Enemy Country—The German Official Mind—Turned Back at the Frontier—Arrival at Vienna—The Kindly Hofrat—Hatred of the English—A Subdued City—Hardships—The Hidden Scourge—The Toll of War—Austria’s Terrible Casualties—The Tragic 28th Regiment—“Mr. Wu” in Vienna—Interned Englishmen.

It was during the early days of November, 1915, that I conceived the idea of making another journey to Turkey. From various sources I had heard that the Germans, in conjunction with the Turks, were preparing for their great and much-advertised attack upon Egypt. I determined to find out if they were seriously planning this adventure, or if it were merely “bluff” for political purposes. My arrangements were carefully made, because the whole result of an expedition such as this depends upon the precautions taken at the outset. I first went to a neutral country where, some yearspreviously, I had worked as a journalist. I did not find much difficulty in obtaining from the newspaper with which I had been connected papers and credentials in which it was set forth that I was acting as the special correspondent of that journal.

After careful consideration, I decided upon the shortest route to Turkey, which would take me through Germany, Austria, Roumania, and Bulgaria, and I made my plans accordingly. I failed, however, in my object. At the town of Emmerich, on the German border, I was informed by the officials that my papers were unsatisfactory. At first I was somewhat puzzled, knowing the care that I had taken to procure everything necessary, but I soon discovered what the trouble really was. On my passport my name was spelt with an “i,” whereas on my special correspondent’s card it was spelt with a “y.” I verily believe that the meticulous mind of the German officials would refuse to admit the bearer of a passport in which a comma appeared in place of a colon.

I did my utmost to convince the officersthat the mistake was trifling, and that I was abona fidejournalist. After much discussion and excited expostulation on my part, I was permitted to travel to Munich; but my papers were taken from me, and I was told that I must apply for them in that city at the Kommandantur.

Convinced that everything was now satisfactorily arranged, I resumed my journey. When we reached Düsseldorf I became aware that my name was being loudly called from the platform. For a moment I was thrilled with a sudden fear that my association with an English newspaper had been discovered and that trouble was brewing; but I quickly recovered myself. When the station-master, a lieutenant, and two soldiers—nothing less than this imposing display of force would satisfy the German official mind—presented themselves at the door of my compartment, I confessed to my identity, and was promptly told that I must leave the train, and furthermore, that I should not be allowed to proceed upon my journey until my papers were perfectly inorder. The upshot of this incident was that I was forced to return to the frontier, all on account of a careless consulate clerk using an “i” for a “y.”

I considered it far too risky to have the correction made and start again. I had acquired some knowledge of German official psychology. Knowing that the Austrian authorities are less difficult than the German, I decided to return to England and journey through France and Switzerland into Austria. In Switzerland I obtained a new passport, and was soon on my way to the Austrian frontier.

On the journey I had some unpleasant meditations. The Austrian authorities might have been informed of my unsuccessful endeavour to cross the German border, and as some eight months previously I had already entered Austria by that same route I now proposed to take, I found myself hesitating as to the advisability of continuing the adventure. “Perhaps,” I argued with myself, “it would be advisable to return to safety.” I soon, however, overcame thistrepidation by the simple process of telling myself that hundreds of thousands of men in the trenches were facing what I should soon be facing—death. I was a soldier, I told myself, as indeed I am holding a commission in my own country as a Reserve officer. Finally, by the time I reached Feldkirch, I was prepared to face the Austrian officials with a stout heart and a grim determination to get through at all costs.

With my fellow travellers I was conducted to a large hall where soldiers, with fixed bayonets, were on guard. To understand my feelings as I stood there awaiting my turn to be taken before the officers for interrogation, one must have been in a similar position oneself.

One by one my companions were admitted to the adjoining room, and when at last my own turn came, I found myself confronting five Austrian officers, all of whom seemed to have developed that inquisitive state of mind which seems to exist only in war-time. In Switzerland I had obtained from the Austrian Ambassador, BaronGayer, alaissez passer, which was of the greatest possible value to me. After an unpleasant ten minutes I found that I had passed with honours, having not only satisfied the officers’ demands for information, but earned their goodwill to the extent of being wished good luck and a pleasant journey. An hour later the train left for Vienna, twenty-four hours distant, through the beautiful Austrian Tyrol. I was, however, too tired and travel-weary to be much concerned with the beauties of nature. There was no sleeping accommodation upon the train, and what rest I had was snatched sitting in an upright position.

On the evening of December 8th, 1915, I arrived in Vienna, where I decided to stay at the Park Hotel in preference to one of the more fashionable hotels in the gayer part of the city. I did this with a deliberate purpose, as the Park Hotel is situated close to the two railway stations, Sud Bahnhof and Ost Bahnhof. From my point of vantage I hoped to be able to watch the movements of troops marching to the stations.

I planned to stay only a short time in Vienna, my real objective being Turkey, but I particularly wanted to see Belgrade, which possessed for me a great interest on account of the recent desperate fighting that had taken place there. I had secured an introduction to a distinguished official in the Austrian Foreign Office (Ministerium des Aussern) upon whom it was my first object to call. This important personage, a Hofrat (the German equivalent, I believe, of the English Privy Councillor), received me courteously, and without that suspicion that seems to be the inevitable attribute of the German, listened to my explanation as to the object of my journey, and very kindly promising me all the facilities that he had it in his power to grant.

He gave me an introduction to the War Office (K.U.K. Kriegsministerium) Press Bureau. His letter stated that I was well known to the Foreign Office, and that all possible facilities should be granted to me on my journey to the Near East. This letter eventually produced a document whichwas of the utmost assistance to me in my subsequent journeyings, and which I still have in my possession.

As he handed to me the introduction to the Kriegsministerium Pressbureau, which was to prove for me my open sesame into Turkey, he remarked: “I am always very careful of giving introductions to the War Office; you yourself, for instance, might be the biggest spy (grosze spion) in the world.” I smiled inwardly as I thanked him for his kindness, and congratulated myself that I had been so fortunate as to impress favourably a man who possessed so much authority. When I asked him to furnish me with a passport, enabling me to travel through to Belgrade, he replied that it was not in his power to do so, but that he would do what he could to assist me, and that I should hear from him in due course.

In the meantime I determined to look about the city to discover what changes had taken place during the eight months that had elapsed since my previous visit. The first thing I noticed was the increased hostilityon the part of the Viennese towards the English. For this there were two very obvious reasons: first, the pinch of hunger, “stomach pressure” as it has been called, the work of the British Navy; second, the intervention of Italy, the work of British diplomatists. The Austrian is not so dramatic in his hatreds as the German; but there is a bitter and burning feeling in his heart against a nation that has robbed him of most of the luxuries and many of the necessaries of life, and, in addition, has precipitated him into another war at a time when his hands were already over full.

Unlike London, Paris, and Constantinople, Vienna is brightly lit at night; but the atmosphere of gaiety of this gayest of cities no longer exists. Now it is dull; cafés, which in peace time remained open all night, are forced to close at 11 p.m.; some, but very few, have obtained permission to remain open until midnight. There in Vienna, as everywhere else in the Teutonic war zone, the all-absorbing topic of conversation was the question of food-supply.

There is a humorous side to the situation; humorous, that is, to the Allies. The people of Turkey confidently anticipate obtaining supplies from the Central Powers; whereas the Central Powers are equally optimistic about Turkey’s ability to supply them with foodstuffs. The Berlin Press is responsible for the Teutonic error, on account of its bombastic articles on the advantage of opening up Turkey and Asia Minor with their vast resources. For one thing this was to produce butter for Berlin. In Vienna they do not grumble so much as in Berlin about the shortage of butter; but they bitterly resent the absence of cream. One of the chief delights of the city is the famous Vienna coffee, with its foaming crest of whipped cream extending half way down the glass. During my previous visit this had been easily obtainable, but eight months of war had resulted in the prohibition of the sale of milk and cream save for infants, all the rest being used in the manufacture of explosives. When I learned that I should be forced todrink black coffee, I felt a momentary grievance against the Allies.

Of the 1,600 taxis that in peace time whirled gay parties about Vienna, only forty remained, and these are extremely shabby, their tyres having a very decrepit appearance. With the exception of these forty taxis all vehicular traffic stops at 11 p.m., and the Viennese ladies, famed for embonpoint, will long remember the war if only for the amount of walking that they have had to do.

There is also a great scarcity of petrol, tyres, and glycerine, all having been requisitioned by the Government. Lard and other fatty substances used in the preparation of food are of a very inferior quality. I have good cause to remember this as, for four days, I was extremely ill on account of the odious stuff used in the cooking of some food I had eaten.

Curiously enough, I found the bread of a much better quality than during my previous visit; but there was very little of it, for the reign of the bread-ticket was not yetover. Meat was scarce and very expensive. As a rule, I dined at the Restaurant Hartmann, in peace time a well-known place for good dinners. I found, however, that it had greatly deteriorated, that the food was far from good and ridiculously expensive. For a meal consisting of soup, meat and vegetables, with some fruit, I had to pay eight kronen (a kronen being 10d.), double the peace price. Some idea of the scarcity of meat may be obtained from the fact that a single portion of roast beef costs about four kronen (3s. 4d.). I should explain that Hartmann’s is not a place like the Ritz Hotel, but a middle-class restaurant where in time of peace the prices are extremely moderate.

That terrible scourge, which seems to follow in the footsteps of civilisation, has increased alarmingly in Vienna since the outbreak of war. Soldiers go to the vilest part of the city deliberately inviting contagion so that they may not be sent to the front. The eyes of the military authorities have been opened to the seriousness of the situation, and the men are very seriously punished.

A Vienna Bread-Ticket

Vienna is full of wounded; in fact, I have never seen a city in which there were so many. I tried to find out as much as I could about the number of Austrian wounded throughout the country, but it was extremely difficult to glean information. In order that the public shall not be unduly depressed, the wounded are carefully scattered about in different towns and villages, particularly in Bohemia. Germans have told me that they have heard the same thing in regard to England, where hundreds of little Red Cross hospitals were to be found in provincial towns and villages all over the country!

The German method is also to keep the wounded away from the big towns as much as possible. The smaller villages are used for Red Cross stations. When in Frankfurt on one of my former trips I one day remarked to an old woman, a farmer’s wife with whom I got into conversation, that I could not understand why there were so fewwounded in a large town such as Frankfurt. “Come and have a look at our village,” she answered, “we have them in our houses.” I accordingly went to Andernach, which was the name of the village. She gave me coffee and war bread, and treated me very kindly. There were six wounded soldiers in her house, and I learned that there was hardly a village on the slopes of the Rhine where wounded soldiers were not billeted to benefit by the invigorating air of the Rhineland hills, having first been treated in the hospitals. I was told by one of the wounded soldiers that in a hospital about half-an-hour’s run from Cologne 180 soldiers were lying disabled.

The Austrian authorities have their own particular methods; they arrange, for instance, that only a third of the convalescent soldiers shall be allowed out at the same time. Thus, if there are three hundred wounded in a hospital who are able to walk, only one hundred are permitted out at the same time for fresh air and exercise.

The number of blind soldiers is amazing.It was one of the most terrible sights I saw. Before Italy participated in the war the total number of Austrian soldiers who had lost their sight was 10,000, now it is 80,000. I was informed of this by Dr. Robert Otto Steiner, the head of the largest hospital in Vienna, probably the largest in the world, the Wiener Allgemeines Krankenhaus, which has 8,000 beds, and 3,000 being occupied by men who have lost their sight.

The reason for this terrible number of blind soldiers is that in the mountains the troops cannot dig adequate trenches, and the Italian shells burst against the mountains and send showers of rock-fragments in all directions. It was with a mournful expression that Dr. Steiner told me of the 70,000 Austrians blinded within six months. I asked him what was to happen to these poor fellows after the war, and he confessed that they presented a problem which seemed beyond the power of any Government to solve. Whether or not a monument be erected to the Kaiser in the Sieges-Allée, there will be throughout Europe thousands of livingmonuments to his “greatness” in the shape of the blind, the mad, and the paralysed, who will breathe curses upon the name German Militarism that has robbed them of nearly all save life itself.

In the course of my wanderings about the city I heard an amusing story about recruiting in England. It was told me by some Austrian officers, who were convinced that recruiting in this country had been a success. Their explanation was that the aristocracy had obtained from the Government an assurance that they would be retained for home service, whereas the poor would be sent to the front. Nothing that I heard showed a greater ignorance of the sporting instinct of the English gentleman than this grotesque statement, and that in spite of the ubiquitous Wolff and his wireless war news. Speaking of Wolff reminds me of a saying among the supporters of the Allies in Constantinople which runs: “There are lies, there are damned lies, and there are Wolff’s wireless messages.”

One night I had an interestingconversation with a captain in the Austrian Polish Legion, whose name is in my possession, but which in his own interest I refrain from printing. He told me several things which showed clearly the difficulties which the Germans are experiencing in combining their vastly varied forces. “I am with the Austrians now,” he said, “fighting the Russians because of the comparatively good treatment we Poles received from Austria. After the war we are promised a Polish Republic. If, however,” he added, “it comes to fighting for Prussia against the Russians, I for one shall desert and join Russia.”

It has been known in this country for some months that something had gone wrong with regard to the Austrian 28th Regiment of the line, the Prague Regiment, which consists entirely of Bohemians principally drawn from Prague, who being Slavs hate the Germans. From this officer I heard the story of the tragic 28th. In the National Museum in Vienna there are several flags draped in black—they are those of this ill-fated regiment of Bohemians.

It was the intention of the whole of the regiment to desert to the Russians, the plot including officers as well as rank and file. One day, seeing before them what they took to be Russian regiments, the soldiers threw down their arms and held up their hands in token of surrender. But the “Russians” were Prussians! The Bohemians were unaware that the round cap of Russia is practically the same as that worn in the Prussian armies. The Prussian officers immediately grasped the situation, and turned machine-guns on the defenceless men, massacring hundreds of them. The remainder were taken prisoners, and eventually one out of every five was shot, and of the officers one in every three was executed. The men who remained were sent to the most dangerous part of the front, and there are now very few left to tell the terrible story. The flags in the National Museum are a record of the disgrace of a regiment whose name no longer appears in the Austrian Army List.

One thing that struck me in particularwas that the most popular play in Vienna should be the English success, “Mr. Wu.” It was advertised all over the city, beneath the title in smaller letters appearing the words “Der Mandarin.” The original title being in heavy letters, whilst the German title is added in smaller type, it being evidently considered that the words “Mr. Wu” required some explanation for Austrian eyes. I was at a loss to account for this anomaly. I remembered having seen the play several times in London, but this did not supply any information as to its popularity in an enemy city.

One evening I went to the Neues Wiener Stadtheater, a handsome building erected since the outbreak of war. The audience was mostly composed of women, less than a fourth being men. The play was admirably staged, but I missed Matheson Lang. I soon discovered the reason for its popularity. An English business man is shown to great disadvantage beside a Chinaman, and this seemed greatly to please the audience. At the end of every act the curtain wasraised time after time and the performers loudly applauded.

To me the real tragedy of Vienna is that of the Englishmen of military age who cannot leave the city. They are well-treated and allowed their liberty so long as they do not leave the city, which shows how much milder is the Austrian as compared with the German rule. They are, however, expected to be within doors by 8 o’clock at night. Notices have appeared in the papers to the effect that subjects of belligerent countries are to be freely allowed to use their own language in public places as long as they do so in a way that is not offensive. The poor fellows are hungry for news. The last English paper they had seen wasThe Timesof September 3rd. They speak feelingly of the hated war bread, but they admit the great improvement in its quality during the last two months. They spoke well of the Austrian treatment, but for all this their position is far from enviable. They are in the midst of a hostile population, knowing nothing of what is actually happening to theircountry, and eager to be in the trenches beside their fellow countrymen.

There was much talk about the Baghdad and Egyptian campaigns, and also about the depreciation in the value of the kroner, the Austrian standard coin, which is now worth only half its original value. Far-seeing men among the Viennese regard this as significant.

Great precautions are taken with regard to people arriving in Vienna from Hungary. For some time past cholera and the Plague have been raging in some parts of that country, although very little information leaks out on account of the severity of the censorship. Occasionally, however, news comes through that proves the situation to be far from favourable. For months previously Hungary was the scene of the great concentration of the German and Austrian armies for the fighting in the Balkans. The massing of these troops in a comparatively small area inevitably results in the spread of disease.

IN THE BALKANS

I Leave Vienna—Gay Bucharest—The Bandmaster’s Indiscretion—“À bas les allemands!”—Roumania Eager for War—German Devices—An English Cigarette—A Terrible Journey—The Spoils of War—The Wily German—Bulgarian Poverty Under the Germans—Austrian Satisfaction over the Serbian Victories—Compulsion in England—Bulgarian Anxiety about the Attitude of Greece—The German Language in Bulgaria.

At the end of about a fortnight I left Vienna, having received my passport. I had become convinced of the uselessness of endeavouring to travel over Serbia to Turkey, and therefore decided to go round by way of Roumania. As a matter of fact, this was the only course open to me. By way of Buda Pesth, where the Austrian State Railway ends, and that of Hungary begins, I went to Brasso, the last station on Hungarian territory. On my previous journey the frontier station had been Pre-deal, but this being on Roumanian territorythe Austrians found that they had no power to act in the event of catching spies, consequently they removed to Brasso. I arrived at Brasso at 5 a.m., after a thirty hours’ journey. As the train for Bucharest did not leave until noon, I had time to look round the delightful little town, nestling among the Carpathian mountains.

Although small, Brasso is of considerable importance at the present moment, owing to its being the headquarters of the Austrian army destined to act against Roumania should difficulties arise. The place was full of soldiers, foot, horse and artillery, with guns of every kind and calibre. The civil population seemed to have disappeared entirely. On the surrounding mountains military manœvres were everywhere in operation. I was told that there were 80,000 troops concentrated at Brasso.

It was at Brasso railway station that I first discovered the great value of the War Office passport I had obtained in Vienna. Without looking at my luggage, and scarcely glancing at my papers, the officialsallowed me to pass, and I blessed my good friend the Hofrat. A more miserable journey I have never experienced than that to Bucharest. All the blinds in the carriages were lowered as a military precaution, although Roumania is not at war. This circumstance, however, testifies to the precautions being taken by the Roumanians against the invasion of their territory. A Roumanian gentleman travelling in the same carriage assured me that everywhere trenches and field-works were in course of construction.

The difference between Vienna and Bucharest, “Little Paris,” as it is called, where I arrived at seven in the evening, is most striking. The Roumanian capital, always noted for its gaiety, is the Mecca of pleasure lovers, and so far from the war having diminished this spirit it seems greatly to have increased it. The population has been considerably augmented, money is spent and wasted everywhere, cafés and theatres do a thriving trade, and the number of motor cars and pair-horse carriages is astonishingconsidering the smallness of the city. Now that the export of wheat from Russia to the Central Empires is no longer possible, Roumania has become the wheat market of the Balkans. I was told that the third crop of the year had just been harvested, and every quarter of cereals that can be produced is readily sold. The result is that money flows everywhere like water.

I look back upon my stay in Bucharest as an oasis of peace in a desert of danger. The Roumanians are a delightful people, and the Allies should appreciate how much they owe to the strictly neutral attitude of Roumania in regard to the war. The Roumanian Government prevented food, coal, or other necessities from reaching either Austria or Turkey. Owing to the new Balkan Express, the Roumanian preventive measures do not now possess its former significance.

The Bulgarian attitude towards the Entente Powers was always a little difficult to determine; the mass of the Bulgarian people is by no means cordial to eitherGermany or Turkey. The politicians most likely became nervous, and German gold did the rest. Nevertheless, I failed to find any evidence of Bulgarian affection for Great Britain. The people in general know hardly anything about this country. There is a vague remembrance of Gladstone in the minds of the better-educated. About Germany, however, every Bulgarian knows, thanks to the indefatigable newspaper work, the German schools, the ubiquitous German kinematograph exhibition, and the “peaceful penetration” by German bagmen, German music, and other elements of German Kultur propaganda.

Little Roumania occupies an extraordinary position in the war. Surrounded by the warring nations, she herself is at peace. There is no doubt as to her friendly feelings towards the Quadruple Entente.

In Bucharest I stayed at the Hotel Frascati, where I spent four delightful days entirely free from all anxiety. It was on the second day of my visit that I received the first evidence of Roumania’s attitude. Inthe evening I went to the Casino de Paris, where the audience formed quite a cosmopolitan crowd. When the band played theMarseillaisea party of Germans, who had evidently been dining well rather than judiciously, expressed their feelings by whistling loudly and making other noises. The audience, however, loudly applauded the band, and the incident terminated.

Shortly afterwards one of the thick-skinned Teutons offered the bandmaster a 20 mark note (£1) to playDie Wacht am Rhein. The bandmaster was willing to take the 20 marks, but expressed some doubt as to whether the musicians would play the required air. Furthermore he expressed himself as very doubtful as to the effect of the melody upon the people assembled in the Casino. He eventually overcame alike the compunction of his band and his own misgivings, but the orchestra had hardly started before pandemonium broke out. “À bas les Allemands!” and other cries were shouted on every side, with an occasional “À bas les bosches!” and the band came to a suddenstop. The Germans left the Casino in some haste, to the accompaniment of the hisses of the audience.

Roumania is all for the Entente Powers, and in particular she is pro-French. Her especial hatred is for Austria, and in a superlative degree for Hungary. One evening I went to a kinematograph exhibition entitled “Under the Yoke of Austria-Hungary,” which depicted the sufferings of Roumanians living under Austrian rule. At one particular incident the audience rose to their feet and shrieked “Down with Austria! Down with Hungary!” These demonstrations are by no means rare, and they show very clearly the general trend of Roumanian public opinion.

The whole Roumanian army is eager for war. I reveal no secret in stating this, for Roumania is overrun with German spies. During my short stay I came in contact with many Roumanian officers, who expressed themselves as very dissatisfied with the slowness of the Entente operations. They are, however, firm believers in theeventual victory of the Allies, and they assured me that no influence, no pressure, political or otherwise, could induce them to join with Germany. They do not appreciate quite all the difficulties with which the Allies have to deal. Germany has been preparing for this war for more than a generation; the Triple Entente Powers were taken by surprise and have been greatly handicapped. This I strove to point out to my Roumanian acquaintances, urging them to “wait and see.”

I hesitate to offer advice to the British Government; but I wish in the interests of itself and its Allies that it could be persuaded as to the necessity—no milder word is suitable—of making known in Roumania the magnificent work of the British Army and Navy. The instinctive sympathy of the Roumanians is with the French and Italians; for it must be remembered that they are a Latin people. Their newspapers publish a great deal about the French and Italian armies. The Germans have their own newspapers, printed in the Roumanian tongue.German propaganda and German gold are to be encountered everywhere, the chief object being to keep Roumania neutral.

A favourite device with the Germans is to exaggerate every mishap to the Allies, magnify every success of their own into a great victory, and above all to point out to Roumania the magnitude of the task that the Entente Powers have undertaken. When I was in Bucharest the chief theme of the German newspapers was the Dardanelles. Long accounts of English defeats appeared in their journals, all lavishly illustrated. The Roumanian is not devoid of intelligence, and he can fairly well appraise Prussian character, and he would rather fight to the last man than share the fate of Belgium, Serbia, or Montenegro; still he cannot be entirely indifferent to the clever German propaganda.

From the plenty, the music, and the white bread of Bucharest I set out for Sofia. At Giugiu, the Roumanian frontier-station on the Danube, I took the ferry across to Rustchouk, in Bulgarian territory. Here I hadto spend a day and night waiting for the train. Rustchouk is a terrible little place, ankle-deep in mud, and I looked forward with dismay to the dreary hours I should have to spend in this awful hole. But all things have their compensations, and I was able to glean some very interesting information.

On the Danube I noticed four Austrian monitors, which were there, I was told, to protect the Austrian and Bulgarian cities on the river bank against Russian attack. I also noticed with the keenest interest huge quantities of light railway material, mostly rails and sleepers, which were being brought down by boat and landed at the Bulgarian port on their way to Turkey. All this material, I was told, is destined for the campaign against Egypt.

I found the Bulgarian authorities much more difficult than the Austrian; this I remembered from my previous trip, and I had taken the precaution of obtaining a special passport at the Bulgarian Legation in Vienna. Even with this invaluabledocument in my possession I experienced considerable difficulty, and was subjected to much questioning before I was allowed to pass. These unpleasant and nerve-racking interrogations were dreadful ordeals, to which I never seemed to be able to accustom myself. Perhaps I was too imaginative, but the consequences of a possible slip were always before me.

During my first visit to Vienna in war time I had a very unpleasant experience, showing the necessity for constant care. One day I encountered in the streets of Vienna a young Englishman I had known in London, who had not been interned. He gave me a cigarette, and subsequently came to my hotel. I was promptly challenged for smoking an English cigarette, which, coupled with the fact that I had some acquaintance with an Englishman, resulted in my arrest, and I spent an unpleasant day in an Austrian prison. This little incident, which involved endless mental strain, shows how necessary it was for me to be for ever watchful. It must be remembered thatmy journey occupied some seven weeks.

As I slopped through the abominably muddy streets of Rustchouk, I noticed German soldiers and non-commissioned officers everywhere; they seemed to be in charge of everything, including the port works and all the military buildings. I discovered that there was a serious shortage of sugar, and I had to drink my tea and coffee without it. Milk likewise was unobtainable, and if there is one thing in life above all others that is necessary to me it is milk and cream. Some one once told me that I must have been intended for a kitten.

I was obliged to stay in a very dirty hotel that rejoiced in the name of the Hotel Bristol, where the available accommodation was of the most primitive description. The bed was so dirty that I gave it up as a bad job, and slept in two arm-chairs. The next day I left for Sofia, a journey which occupied twenty hours, largely owing to the shortage of coal. I have never had a more monotonous train journey. The windows were painted white, as the suspicious Bulgars aredetermined that no one shall learn any military secrets by looking out of the train. Imagine the monotony of sitting for twenty hours in a small compartment without a chance of glancing out at the countryside. I had no newspapers, no cigarettes, and no food. Nothing but the opposite side of the carriage at which to gaze, or the whited panes of glass with which to occupy myself, for nearly a day and a night. I passed most of the time by sleeping in fitful snatches.

At every little station where the train stopped I got out and endeavoured to purchase food. At one place, to my great joy, I succeeded in obtaining some stale bread and a piece of chocolate of obviously pre-war manufacture. I did not dare to drink water for fear of cholera, and when I eventually arrived in Sofia I was in a state of collapse and was thankful to get to the “Splendid” Hotel, which lies in the heart of the city.

There was none of the gaiety of Bucharest about Sofia. For four days I had forgotten war, but here it was brought oncemore vividly to my mind. Swaggering German officers were everywhere; for the German occupation is firmly established, and nearly as complete as at Constantinople. There seemed to be no social life, dulness reigning supreme, and I longed for the brightness and plenty of Bucharest. Curiously enough, the most striking thing about Sofia is the Turkish Baths, which have their place in a wonderful new building; they are considered the finest Turkish Baths in the world.

It was in Sofia that I heard another instance of German thoroughness and subtilty. When, through the medium of Turkey the Germans were bribing Arab chiefs to fight against the British, the gifts consisted not only of money, jewellery and horses, but of Circassian beauties from the Turkish harems. I had not the pleasure of seeing these ladies who had the honour of cementing international alliances. In dealing with the Bulgar the German is equally wily, and magnanimously hands over to him all the tragic booty dragged from the poorSerbian homes. Guns, munitions, rifles, household furniture and jewellery, and loot of every possible description, from little Serbia, was to be found everywhere in Sofia.

Nor has this system of bribery been without its marked effect, for I saw everywhere German and Bulgarian officers mixing together and having a good time, and a good deal of sweethearting was going on between German soldiers and Bulgarian girls.

In Sofia only black bread is obtainable. Sugar was absolutely unprocurable, coal was short, but prices were not so high as in Constantinople. The Bulgarian people, however, are suffering the lot which seems to follow inevitably in the wake of the German wherever he goes—shortage of food and other supplies.

I wish that I could have had with me one or two British Cabinet Ministers; not that they might suffer any harm, or endanger their valuable lives, but that they might have learned to appreciate the value of the weapon which they have not yet learned how to use—the British Navy. One of the mostcertain ways of shortening the war is to bring about dissensions, not only in Germany, but among the population of her subjugated allies—Austria-Hungary, Bulgaria and Turkey—and this can best be done by what the Germans call “Stomach Pressure.”

There seems to be still a small amount of silver in circulation in Sofia, but the Bulgars, who have always been poor, are now realising an unprecedented degree of poverty under their German masters. If properly emphasised this must, in my opinion, bring about eventual trouble with the Prussian Bully, who is at present cajoling them with gifts, but principally with promises.

The conquest of Serbia has unquestionably greatly heartened the Austrians, who are more anti-Serbian than anti-Russian. Since the war broke out there have been periods when the Berlin taskmasters found themselves in some difficulty as to how to maintain the enthusiasm of their Austrian allies. Upon this I am absolutely convinced, there is no such difficulty now. It is so many years since unhappy Austria has had causeto celebrate a victory that the novelty of the sensation has had a remarkably stimulating effect upon the whole country. Their history has been a story of retreat and defeat. Prussia crushed them in a few weeks in 1866, now they begin to regard themselves as the equals of their overlords. In addition to their new port of Antivari on the Adriatic, they confidently anticipate securing Venice and Northern Serbia. For the moment they are intoxicated with victory which they fondly imagine to be their own, but underneath there is the same hatred of the Prussian that existed before the war.

The compulsion campaign in England has aroused great interest in Austria, and has been the cause of innumerable heated arguments in the thousands of cafés throughout the land. The popular idea that Englishmen fight only when they are paid to do so, with extra for battles, has been so assiduously fostered by Berlin propagandists that it has become almost an article of Austrian faith. It is practically impossible for them to understand the spirit of the newBritish armies, to which men have flocked from all parts of the Empire. In Vienna, as in other places, I was solemnly assured that the rich would stay at home and play football, or live in their castles, hunting and enjoying themselves. Not even eighteen months of war have dispelled the Austrian belief in English “sportkrankheit” (sport disease).

The day after I arrived in Sofia, I had an interesting talk with two Bulgarian officers who were staying in the same hotel. They told me of the retreat of the Franco-British forces from Serbian territory into Greece. The Bulgarian soldiers liked very much to fight the English, for the reason that when they defeated them the booty they find is so considerable. For instance, many of those Bulgarian farmers had never seen or eaten chocolate in their lives, and were delighted to find, when the English had to evacuate the camp, that they left behind them considerable quantities of chocolate and marmalade.

In particular, these Bulgarian officerswere keen to know something of the situation in Greece. As I came from a foreign country they thought I should be able to tell them much about what Greece was going to do. After talking with them for a little while I got the impression that they seemed to fear the participation of Greece in the war. They do not like the Greeks; in fact, they hate them. There have always been quarrels between these two countries; but, at the same time, these Bulgarians were not particularly keen to fight the Greeks just then. When I asked the reason why, they told me that a great part of the army had to be ready for eventualities against Roumania and Russia, and that the rest would not be sufficient to meet the Grecian army with any chance of success, reinforced as it could be by a large Franco-British army. I thought to myself, if only the leading Greek statesmen with their pro-German king could hear this, what a fine opportunity it would be for Greece to settle her old quarrels with Bulgaria.

One thing struck me very much, thatwherever the Germans go a shortage of food and other things seems to follow on their heels. When I had visited Bulgaria eight months previously, there was not what one would call an abundance of food, but there was enough to keep people going. As soon as the Germans got the Bulgarians to march with them the scarcity of food began. The first Sugar Ticket had just been issued when I entered Bulgaria, and I dare say other tickets will soon follow. People, particularly women, were worrying the officials as to where these tickets were available, and shouts of all kinds showed abundantly that the people were very little pleased with the new regulations. The financial situation as well seems to be hopeless. There is paper money everywhere. Of silver there is very little, and gold of course is unknown.

It is a remarkable thing that of all the Balkan countries Bulgaria is the only one where the German language is known to any extent. They call themselves proudly “Little Germany,” but to the honour of the Bulgarians I must say there is a markeddifference between the Bulgarian and the German. He is not brutal, very simple, and extremely polite, three things of which no German can be accused. The officers go about with the soldiers in the same way as the French. They are very simple and unassuming. I saw in the train a Bulgarian captain produce from his pocket a piece of sausage and start eating it sitting before us, a thing a German officer would never do.

In most schools previous to the war French was the first language taught; now they all start with German. All the same, fifty per cent. of the Bulgarian officers I saw and spoke with completely ignored the German language, and the only language in which we could make each other understood was French.

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