time the old boy was certainly fierce but he had nothing on me. I was in the same condition myself. Like two tigers we came together. He cautiously opened the door for he knew from my previous attitude that I was liable to make a jump at his throat. Reaching his hand back to his hip so that if I started anything he could draw his gun, he demanded to know what I meant by ringing the buzzer again. Insane with rage and raging fever, I shook my fist in his face and said, “For the Officer,” whereupon I madly slapped myself on the chest and said, “Ich bin ein Officeren Amerikaner,” which, if correct, is to say, “I am an American Officer and must be treated as such.” Reluctantly and disgustedly, he took the paper and started to pull the door shut again. I staggered forward to impress upon him the fact that I needed medical attention at once. Too late, the door was closed. Whether from pure anger or from actual exhaustion, I don’t know, but for some reason I simply went down to take the count. I was awakened by some one shaking me. Dazed, I got up. Three hours had elapsed. With head swimming, I looked around. Before me was the prison attendant, the Sergeant interpreter of the Camp and the Commanding Officer of the Camp with whom I had had the set-to that morning. It was another court but this time the ceremony on my part was lacking for I sat on the stool. The Captain straightened and again stood stiffly at attention, while the Sergeant interpreted: “I, Antonio Mark Snicklefritz, Captain Commanding the Prison Camp at Landshut, am directed by the General Commanding the German Military District of Münich to inform you, Elmer Haslett, Oberleutnant, Air Service, American Army, that the General has decreed that you be released from solitary imprisonment until further orders.” As expected, the “further orders” never came. XIII “COMING OUT” The modern débutante looks forward with no little anxiety to her “Coming Out.” It is naturally quite an event for, veritably, she is imprisoned, as it were, by the conventions which do not permit her to take her place among the friends of the inner circle until she has been formally presented by her “coming out.” So, the prisoners of war, even after the Armistice, were withheld from their friends until the “coming out,” which consisted of the formalities of turning the prisoners over to their friends. Naturally, it was quite an event. But, believe me, no débutante could possibly anticipate her “coming out” with the keenness and anxiety that the American prisoners of war could theirs. We, too, had planned it all—of course, not so much as to the clothes we would wear, but more especially as to the things we would eat.