I decided to justify my suspicion that he was a German spy, so I made the suggestion that since I was a prisoner it might help to know more German, so as Davis had studied it more recently than I, I asked him to give me a German lesson, as I especially wanted to learn some words that might come in handy. So as I would ask Davis for the German words for a number of ordinary objects he would give me the word and his pronunciation of it. We worked hard for fully half an hour. The Frenchman had said nothing, and as I noticed he was not paying very close attention I indicated to Davis not to tell me the next word. Davis did well, and I repeated, “Dog—dog—dog,” several times. Davis said he did not know, and then the Frenchman, seeing us both puzzled, spoke up and said, “Dog. Qu’est que ce ‘Dog’?” which in French means “What do you mean ‘Dog’?” I told him in French that I wanted the word for dog in German, and just as natural as could be he instantaneously replied, “Der Hund.” He had fallen into our trap and we knew quite well then that he was a German. It was too apparent for argument. After that Davis and I said absolutely nothing. In fact, we had nothing to do with him whatsoever and later that night the Sergeant of the Guard came in and told him that he had been ordered to proceed to Karlsruhe, but that the orders for us to be moved had not come. We afterwards found that this same gag of French friendship had been pulled on several other prisoners, some of whom were, unfortunately, unsuspecting. In a couple of days we were taken over to Montmedy, or rather we walked over, for after having once gotten our supposed information there was no reason to be courteous enough to furnish us transportation. At Montmedy we were to take the train for the big prisoners’ concentration camp at Karlsruhe. Before we left we were given our traveling rations, which consisted of some boiled meat and bread, and this was supposed to last two days. On the trip and at the station at Montmedy I noticed that the morale of the German Army must have failed a good deal, for the discipline was not what I had always supposed it to be. The proud Prussian officers carried their own trunks while the enlisted men stood around, and I actually saw a crowd of enlisted men push aside an officer who was trying to get into the train ahead of them. I realized then that the statement of the German Intelligence Officer that it was a proposition of not more than three months was actually more accurate than I had been inclined to allow myself to believe. There was one real character on the train—a hardboiled Feldwebel, which was the German name for Sergeant-Major, and corresponding pretty largely to our First Sergeant of the line. He was in charge of our party.