We ran into the big station at about 2.40 in the afternoon—it was very full. It did not take me long to find the “departure” notices, Kiel 3.10. I took my place in the “queue” for the fourth class booking office. Behind me two women had an altercation as to priority of place in the “queue.” I was rather afraid they were going to appeal to me. I had no wish for the rôle of Solomon at that moment. I booked direct to Flensburg—about four marks’ worth—and made my way downstairs to the departure platform, which was indicated clearly enough. I did not like the odd quarter of an hour which I had to wait before the train came in. I was not very happy about my dark blue waterproof. I could not see anything approaching its counterpart. If one stands still, one can be examined at leisure; if one moves up and down, one runs the gauntlet of a hundred restless eyes, any one pair of which may at some previous date have had first hand cognisance of a typical naval rubber-lined English waterproof.... Then I blundered. There was a coffee-stall on the platform. I went up to it and asked for a cup. I had drunk nothing since 4 o’clock in the morning. Fortunately neither of the _Frauleins_ in the stall paid any attention to me. Just then I saw the notice “_for soldiers and sailors only_” printed up in big letters. I should have known that, but no one had noticed anything. When _would_ that train come in? It came at last. I chose the carriage with fewest soldiers in it, and most women, and made for my strategical position by the window. But it was impossible to avoid men altogether. I had one strap-hanging next to me from Hamburg to Kiel. Everybody started chattering at once. How could I keep out of this all the way to Kiel without suspicion? Of course, they were talking about food—various ways of dishing up potatoes. I looked out of the window, pretending to be interested in the country. It was impossible even to pretend to read in that crush. A man on the seat was forcibly expressing his views to two _Frauleins_ on the new (10th) War Loan. They giggled. I often wonder if those Hamburg folk then had any notion that another fortnight would see the Red Flag floating in their midst. At Neumünster we had an invasion. The carriage, full already, became packed. Four girls of the farmer class—sisters, I judged them—got in at my window. I lost my place of vantage and was relegated to the middle of the floor. I felt a pasty-faced youth quite close to me sizing me up.... Fortunately the farmer girls riveted all attention for half a dozen stations. They were in boisterous spirits and screamed with laughter at their own jokes. They spoke dialect and I could not understand them, but I grinned feebly in unison. When they got out, I recovered my post by the window. Bless them, anyway, for a diversion.