During my previous visit to Constantinople I had made the acquaintance of the War Office, then sadly dirty and neglected and typically Turkish in appearance. Now everything was so changed as to be scarcely recognisable. Inside and out it had been redecorated. It was obviously the intention of the Germans that, however neglected the other Turkish Government buildings might be, the War Office was to be a place that would impress itself upon the imagination. Again I was struck by the number of German officers to be seen, albeit in Turkish uniforms for the most part. They were to be seen everywhere, and clearly the entire direction of affairs was in their hands. On my arrival I was ushered into an anteroom, where I spent a few minutes in conversation with Enver’s German _aide-de-camp_. As we sat chatting together I recalled an incident that occurred during my previous visit to the Turkish War Office in May, 1915. Through one of the windows I had noticed a huge mast belonging to the great wireless station of Osmanli. “What do you think of it?” inquired a German lieutenant with whom I had been conversing. “With that wireless station we can communicate with Berlin.” I doubted this at the time, but I have since discovered that the statement was quite correct. I inquired if it were the wireless from the _Goeben_, deliberately assuming innocence in order to stimulate the German to further disclosure. “Oh, no,” was the reply, “ships do not carry masts of that size. This one came from Germany.” “From Germany!” I exclaimed. “But surely Roumania would not allow to pass a wireless apparatus. That would be a violation of neutrality.” The officer smiled, a German smile, a smile of superior knowledge. “Well,” he replied, “as a matter of fact it was not passed as a wireless apparatus, but I will explain to you the little device that we used to get it there. We had to think out some plan, as we badly needed a strong apparatus, so we got it here as a circus!” I laughed outright, but my companion did not appear to see anything funny in the incident. It seemed to strike him as clever rather than humorous--he was a typical German. Humour does not exist where the needs of the Fatherland are concerned.