“Of course,” he went on graciously, “those are details that will have to be arranged later.” Our release may have been simply regarded as a detail to him, but we held it much more important. In fact, the situation looked so serious to us that only the continual talk of the general armistice kept the bunch from attempting a wholesale “coming out.” Finally, the armistice came, and that day was the greatest of my whole life—not so much for the reason that I would soon be released, but because I was in a position to observe the Germans in absolute misery. I have heard a lot of people say that their arrogance was not affected by the armistice, but that is all bunk. They were humiliated to the extreme—they whined around like a pen of stuck pigs—they thought the terms of the armistice were terrible, inhumane, and impossible. As usual, they blamed it all on England. I could have stayed there for months just enjoying their misery in crying over the terrible terms laid down. I was getting good and sick of the Germans, as such, for they had worked some good gags on us at that camp at Landshut. They took all our clothes, including shoes, to have them fumigated in order, as they said, to safeguard the health of the camp, and, as a substitute, they issued us old Russian prisoner uniforms. For shoes, they gave us some toy paper bedroom slippers, which could be bought in an American novelty store for a dime. To our surprise, in a few days these clothes were returned to us, unfumigated, in fact, untouched except thoroughly searched. It was the typical shell game under the guise of Kultur, for, at the end of the month, we found that we had been charged three dollars for the said shoes, and, since the Germans controlled the prisoners’ exchequer, the transaction would not permit of any argument. Another time, I was soaked outright. The officer at my previous prison camp at Karlsruhe gave me a receipt for my fast dwindling purse. When I presented this receipt at Landshut, the authorities stated that they had no record of it, but that, if I would turn over this receipt to them, they would send it to Karlsruhe for verification. Like a boob, I turned the receipt over, and I have never seen it or the money since. I demanded the money several times afterwards, but demands, when a prisoner, do not carry a great deal of pull. Shortly after the armistice, the orders came for us to be taken to another camp, preparatory to our “coming out.” Our Red Cross food supply had been running short for some time, and, just the way things always happen, a carload of food arrived for us the day we started for the new camp. On our trip, they sent the customary number of guards along, including the sergeant interpreter of the camp, whose name was Kapp, and who was in charge of the party. The railways were congested, as they usually were in Germany, so Herr Kapp sat in our compartment, and his presence eliminated the necessity of the objectionable guards.