I marched down to the train with the rest of the transport, and here again they sent a tag along with me, telling of my bad record. They honored me with several guards personally assigned, while the rest of the party had about one guard for every four prisoners. We traveled for about thirty-six hours in third-class coaches and were, indeed, tired and worn out and sleepy. But, in spite of German efficiency and secret service, within a few hours after starting we all knew by well founded rumors that we were going by way of Münich to a place called “Landshut.” At Münich we were taken off of the train and given some food, which consisted of powerful limburger cheese and a little piece of dog sausage, with a hunk of dainty potato bread. In spite of their intense hunger, some of the boys could not possibly go that cheese so, showing resourcefulness, I made a collection of it for I thought it might come in handy later on. I gathered so much that I was a human cheese factory; I had that cheese stuck in my pockets, I was carrying it in my hands and I even had some of it securely put away in my blouse, and all the way from Münich to Landshut, Bavaria, as I had nothing else to do, I ate cheese. Believe me, people knew I was coming a mile away. When that stuff began to get a little tepid, I was a man hated among men; extremely unpopular for a strong reason. We were turned over to a new set of guards at the Landshut station and I noticed that they had lost my identity since I was not being given special attention, so, I mixed right in with the rest of the prisoners; that is, until they got a good whiff. The new sergeant, after lining us up, walked along the lines calling the names and checking up the prisoners. Standing directly in front of me, with his face about two inches from mine, he gruffly called, “Oberleutnant Haslett.” “Here!” I bellowed, whereupon the German, getting the full benefit of the cheese, staggered and moved on. I went up to the old abandoned estate known as “Traunitz,” which was a very beautiful and historic old court. However, we did not live in the castle. I think it was the servants’ quarters we had, for there were twenty-five of us in one room. Landshut, itself, was a lovely little town; in fact, one of the most beautiful I have ever seen. The feature was the variety of church bells. They were ringing day and night, and the sounds ranged several octaves. At this camp they took away our American uniforms and gave us old Russian prisoners’ clothes, with a big yellow stripe down the back of the blue uniform. I don’t know whether that “yellow streak” was supposed to have any real significance or not, but anyhow it was there. At Landshut was imprisoned Captain Jimmy Hall, the James Norman Hall who was prominent for his “Kitchener’s Mob” and other books, and a very famous member of the Lafayette Escadrille. “Jimmy” was quite a character as he hobbled around the place—we all liked his wonderful democracy.