Peace; World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives
A few days later I happened to go into the Holland American agency and
told the man to wire to Rotterdam and see if he could get us a room. To
my surprise and delight I was informed the following week that we could
have a whole cabin on the Rotterdam, sailing on the 29th of August. Then
my mother refused to pay the fifty dollars down, for she was confident
that the Holland American ships would not run. I kept her in the office
to hold the telegram while I tore up hill to consult a successful
business man from St. Louis as to whether I should pay fifty dollars
down on what seemed to be a good chance. He argued that woman's
intuition was often better than a man's reason and that I should follow
out my original plan. I won my mother over to our way of thinking by
telling her what she had still left in American Express checks and that
she could use them instead of money. When we had secured a cabin I felt
as rich as John Bull does since he has secured control of the English
Channel. Hardly a day passed but I looked at the ticket to see that it
had not been lost. Then I began to tell people at the sanitarium and
wired my friends in Berlin advising them how to get out of Germany.
By this time the first mobilization was over and there was an interim of
about ten days before the calling of the Landsturm, which meant the boys
from twenty-one to twenty-five and the men from forty to forty-five.
The ticket agent told us that we could go at any time, that the longer
we waited the worse it would become, and that by delay we were
considerably reducing our chances for getting away. He could sell us
tickets for a stretch but that there were no more through tickets to be
had. In contradiction to this statement, the doctor who had the
sanitarium said that he had been at a committee meeting of the railroads
and they admitted that there were many hardships in trying to get away
at present. Every day I noticed men and women hurrying to the station
carrying their hand luggage, and letting the maids from the pensions
carry their small trunks.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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