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ON THE WAY TO THE FRONT 19
But time flies, we rush back to Berlin, cross Unter den
Linden and pass out through the Brandenburger Tor. The
war cars always create a good deal of interest. The Ritt-
meister sits at the wheel himself and steers his car with wonder-
ful assurance. He threads his way with the most daring
turns and twists in between and past other cars and carriages
in the Tiergartenstrasse, and by pressing a little bulb on the
wheel he produces a piercing, twittering noise which during
the day caused an officer to shout after us :
" That’s a nice
little canary you’ve got hold of !
"
By the side of von Krum sits the chauffeur, the excellent
Deffner, also from Wiirttemberg, an enormous chap. His
rifle is lashed to the front of the car. I myself occupy the back
seat, where I have the map of the General Staff at hand,
making hasty notes now and again. At the bottom of the
car is my luggage, two bags no larger than can be carried by
myself if necessary. In the field one should not carry more
baggage than one can cope with personally. Our first halt
is at Potsdam, 28.9 kilometres. We fly along at a rattling
pace on the magnificent road lined by avenues of trees, parks
and long rows of large new houses. Here we have the Wannsee
with its innumerable sailing boats at anchor, its leafy nooks,
its villas and inns. There are very few people about and we
seldom meet another vehicle. But when we sight one down
the road, the shrill sound of the canary rends the atmosphere,
and Deffner conjures forth a melodious note out of his hooter.
We are not far from Beelitz when a report is heard under
the car—it is not a shell, merely a burst tyre which compels
us to stop and change it. A horseshoe nail has worked its
way through the cover, but Deffner is a handy man and it is
put right in no time. There is a fresh breeze blowing, and it
murmurs through the pines by the roadside—it is the last
breath of summer complaining that autumn is so near. One
finds it rather windy travelling in an open car at sixty kilo-
metres an hour with a head wind, but it is delightful and
exhilarating to travel fast, to fly along the road regardless
of everything and to approach the scene of events which are
now daily filling the pages of the world’s history. All un-
pleasant thoughts are blown away, all fuss and pettiness
which one otherwise has to endure are left behind, one simply
runs away from it all and is filled with a feeling of buoyant
joy and freedom as one rushes past the fields, the homely
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