It is a little difficult to express in words the conflict of feelings in your mind as you enter Germany. You are certainly prepared for something dramatic. It is almost with a shock you realise that German civilians are not equipped with hoofs and horns or other attributes of a Satanic character. After all, they look just like any one else: tidy, well-dressed, self-respecting people--the typical German crowd of old days. But certainly you expected to see some outward and visible signs of military occupation, apart from the familiar sight of khaki soldiers; visions of a Germany bristling with guns; of burgomasters and high officials walking about with halters, actual or metaphorical, round their necks; of a sullen, conquered people casting looks of hatred on conquerors who move among them in no small peril of their lives. If such is the anticipation, it proves to be ludicrously remote from the reality. The outstanding fact in the occupied territory, and one which fills an English visitor with ever-growing amazement, is the complete acquiescence of the Germans in the situation. Life is astonishingly normal. Khaki soldiers have replaced grey-coated soldiers. Otherwise everything seems to go on exactly as before. These amazing people, outwardly at least, do not appear to mind that their country is occupied by hostile armies. The Germans on the Aachen platform were moving about and talking in a placid, undisturbed manner. Their indifference to the British and Belgian soldiers appeared to be absolute. A picture rose before my eyes of an English station occupied by German troops: would equal apathy and indifference have been shown under such conditions? In this as in many other respects the German psychology is a riddle to which no answer seems forthcoming, and it is a riddle the perplexity of which will be found to deepen with every hour spent in the occupied territory.