"Horrible!" I sighed. "Have they not yet hit the bridge?" "Oh yes, it has been destroyed already a couple of times, but we shall teach them a lesson! Why did not the Belgians allow us to pass through their country? What can their little army do against us? As soon as a sufficient number have crossed we shall go for these forts, then on to Brussels, and within a fortnight we shall be in Paris. Liège we have taken already." "It will cost a great many men!" "We have plenty of them; but many of us fall by the treacherous shooting of the civilians; they are swine, swine! And these Belgian women ... they are the dirtiest bitches ... beastly swine...." The man got more and more excited, but then he was more than "half-seas over." The smoke made him cough and he stuck in the middle of his "swine." He made me shudder, and I hastened to pull out a packet of cigarettes, some of which I gave to him and his mates. In consequence the two others became more communicative, and in touching harmony assured me that: "Oh yes, the Netherlanders are our friends; they remain neutral. And that is the best, for otherwise the whole lot would be smashed up, exactly as here in Belgium." They did not understand, of course, that poor Belgium would have liked nothing better than to remain neutral also. Those wide carts had passed us now, and we could proceed slowly. The bridge led to a farmhouse with tall trees and underwood. They took me to the right, to a densely overgrown spot, where a clearing had been made amidst some smaller shrubs. In the centre stood a table covered with a shining white cloth, and a goodly number of wine-bottles and glasses. Half a dozen officers in fine uniforms, gilt collars and epaulettes, were seated around it. The sight of that small group, hidden among the green foliage, was as brilliant as it was surprising. One of the officers, clearly the highest in rank, summoned us to come nearer, and asked the soldiers for an explanation. Standing smartly at attention, they gave it, as a school-child might haltingly recite a lesson learned by heart. The officer whom I thought it convenient to call "Captain" looked searchingly at me and then began: "Have you got papers?" "Yes, captain." I pulled them out: birth certificate, certificate of good conduct, foreign passport, and press-card, which were examined the one after the other. "Are they genuine?" "Of course, captain; everything is properly signed, stamped, and legalised." "And what do you want to write about?" "I don't know yet. The things I see ... and ... of course that cannot do harm to the German army." "Hm! Hm! All right. So you intend to write friendly about us?" "Certainly, certainly, sir! Exactly because we hear so many lies from foreign countries about the Germans, I want to try and find out the truth for myself." "Is that so? Well, the Netherlanders are our friends, and have so much in common with our people."