In Potsdam, as we passed through, all was calm. Patriotism is very tiring. The streets were deserted and we drove through without notice. All went well with us. The sun was shining and the road, at this stage of the journey, was good. The next forty kilometres passed at the rate of one a minute and before seven o’clock we were in Brandenburg. Here ill-fortune again caught us up. As we crossed the bridge over the Havel a tyre burst. We had no spare inner tube and so Keating went to a garage near by in order to get replacements. His speech revealed him a foreigner, the news spread rapidly and by the time he returned to the car a large crowd had assembled round us. At first we thought their interest to be mere curiosity, but we soon saw that it was underlain by suspicion. To avoid them, and in order to change tyres quickly, we drove the car into a narrow courtyard near by and began work. The crowd increased and showed signs of following us into the yard. At this point we closed the yard gates, which were of iron scroll work covered with plate glass through which our movements could be watched. The mob still increased and its attitude was threatening. A man whose house abutted on the yard, anxious as to the safety of his property, sent for the police. Shortly afterwards a sergeant arrived who, luckily, spoke English according to American practice. He had, he told us immediately on arrival, been in San Francisco during the earthquake, hence his knowledge of our language. From him we learnt that the crowd in the road believed us to be Russian spies and were taking measures to prevent our escape. At our request he sent for an officer, to whom we explained our position. Though the latter showed no signs of enthusiasm he believed our statement after examining our passport and driving licence. He then left, telling his sergeant to see us out of the town as soon as we were ready. After the police interview the crowd melted away and we suffered no further inconvenience. By this time we were hungry and asked our friend the sergeant if he could buy us food. A boy was sent for sausage sandwiches and beer. We drank with the sergeant to the health of Great Britain and Germany and to the confusion of the rest of the world. It is easy to admire a nation when one is at its mercy. It is easier still when one realises the magnificent patriotism and unity of purpose of that same nation. When, the tyre fitted, it was time to leave, we endeavoured to pay the small boy for the food he had brought, only to be stopped by the sergeant, who said we were his guests and that he would not like us to leave with a bad opinion of his country! Firm friends, we left that sergeant with deep regret, as by now we knew our passage through the country was not to be pleasant.