* * * * * It may not be out of place to mention here that at one time there was quite a controversy in the German newspapers concerning Mrs. Gerard. Certain sheets had accused Mrs. Gerard of lack of good manners, and this to the extent of having on one occasion pinned the Iron Cross to the collar of her pet dog and to have promenaded the streets of Berlin with the animal thus “dressed up.” The alleged incident created such a stir that the semi-official newspaper “Le Gazette de l’Allemagne du Nord” published an editorial on the subject. It was therein stated that the allegations against Mrs. Gerard were false and that Mr. and Mrs. Gerard had conducted themselves always in a manner absolutely above reproach. * * * * * Very seldom a day passed without one of the non-commissioned officers submitting this question to the British prisoners, “When shall we have peace?” The answer was invariably the same: “We did not know.” How could we? However, the question gave the Prussians an excuse for prolonging a conversation, during which we would be told that Germany wished for peace, but that the obstacle was England. On more than one occasion several among us–notably a Belgian named Dumont, who never minced his words–retorted: “But why did you start the war?” On one occasion a non-commissioned officer, to whom this question was directly put, insisted that Germany never wished nor planned the war, neither did she start it. “You are quite right; you are a thousand times right as to starting it,” cried Dumont, giving expression to his anti-German sentiments, “it was not Germany that started the war. We, the Belgians, started it!!!” The remark was greeted with general laughter, and the non-commissioned officer, in confusion, turned on his heels and left us. CHAPTER XXVI TALK OF EXCHANGE April 19, 1918, will ever remain a memorable date for me. I had just received a request to present myself at the Kommandantur, and a non-commissioned officer was waiting on the ground floor to conduct me to the office. What was the matter now? It had not infrequently happened that a prisoner, after being summoned to the Kommandantur, was never seen by us again. He had been summarily transferred to another prison. My present request, therefore, was not very reassuring. However, I could not hesitate to obey the order. As we were leaving the jail, my escort commenced a conversation in a perfectly casual manner. “Can you guess why you have been summoned to the Kommandantur?” he asked me. “Yes,” I replied. “Well, why are you called there?” he insisted. “Because I am to be granted my liberty,” I hazarded. “You are quite right,” he said. “But please, do not state that I told you this, for if it were known I had spoken I should be severely reprimanded, perhaps actually punished, for having communicated this news to you.”