During the years 1916 and 1917, and for the first part of 1918, Germany possessed one god and one idol. The god was Emperor William and the idol was Hindenburg. It will be remembered that at the outbreak of the war Hindenburg was a retired general leading a peaceful life at Hanover. Thence the Emperor recalled him from retirement and relative obscurity and gave him the command of the German forces operating in Eastern Prussia. At that time the Russians occupied part of the Baltic Provinces. The Emperor, in examining the theses made by the different German generals, discovered that Hindenburg, a quarter of a century previously, had treated in his thesis the subject of an invasion of Eastern Prussia. He then sent for Hindenburg and committed to him the task of liberating the eastern territory from the occupation of the Russians. We all know that Hindenburg accomplished this task victoriously and acquired for himself, particularly as the result of the famous battle of Tannenberg, a fame which surpassed that of any other Prussian general. Pressure was then brought to bear on the Emperor by his entourage with the object of placing Hindenburg at the head of the general staff; and, as a matter of fact, by a movement of the hand, Emperor William dismissed Von Falkenhayn, who was at that time chief of the general staff, and replaced him by Hindenburg. The victory of Tannenberg was followed by several others, including that of Rumania, and then it was that the population of Berlin, no longer able to restrain their enthusiasm for Hindenburg, decided to erect in his honor a colossal monument on one of the public squares. The testimony of popular admiration took the shape of a wooden statue, forty-one feet in height, built at the end of Victory avenue, at the foot of the immense column known as the Victory Column, erected after the war of 1871 to commemorate the victory of the Germans over the French. Opportunity was given to me on several occasions in the course of the outings I was allowed to make during the last year of my captivity, to observe with what veneration the people surrounded this misshapen, inartistic monument standing in the centre of the Tiergarten. Twice every week, as I have previously explained, I was privileged to take a walk around the garden, under the escort of a non-commissioned officer, and on no occasion did I neglect to walk towards this statue. A large number of people, particularly old men and women, accompanied by young children, crowded at the foot of the column near this immense wooden image. They would look at it, examine it with the air of people admiring its proportions and artistic qualities. But what was more curious and interesting was the means adopted to collect charity funds through this new Trojan horse. A scaffolding surrounding the statue furnished means for all to climb to the level of the head and contemplate from this close view the severe features of the great general.