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20 WITH THE GERMAN ARMIES IN THE WEST
villages, the farms, the copses, the endless, straight avenues
of ash, oak, maple and elm—everything flits past and dis-
appears, whilst the hand of the indicator marks seventy
kilometres an hour. There is nothing to indicate that Germany
is in the throes of her greatest war. Huge cartloads of scented
hay are being brought in from the meadows—not all Germany’s
horses are busy pulling guns and ammunition. The sails
of the windmills travel round busily with several reefs taken
in, grinding the corn which is to be made into bread for
millions of soldiers and their families at home. At Treuen-
brietzen we encounter groups of merry school children who
shout and wave, and in the fields outside women, young
and old, are busy gathering potatoes and beet. They greet
us with a flutter of aprons and handkerchiefs. Why on earth
are they waving to us, I say to myself, but the answer is
obvious—the uniforms and the streamer denote a war car,
and they realise that we are on the way to the front ; whether
they know us or not does not matter, but perhaps they think
we shall meet their own dear ones who are fighting out there
for hearth and home !
Now the country opens up more and stretches out in un-
dulating vistas before us. Presently we reach the top of a
rise and see the tower and roof of Wittenberg church in a
hollow before us—the Elbe valley. Here is the Schlosskirche,
and I see in my mind’s eye the wonder-struck crowds gathering
before the portals where the monk Luther nailed up his
ninety-five theses. But disturb not the peace which reigns
within the church, where the great reformer rests before the
pulpit ! Outside in the street a body of volunteers are
marching ; they look cheerful, they march well with a rhyth-
mical firm step and sing a lively and inspiriting war song. At
the next street corner we meet another detachment on the
way to or from its drill ground. They are strapping young
fellows of martial bearing, and one can see how they are longing
to get out to fight. They do not sing, they whistle a pleasing
tune which sounds quaint among the venerable houses of
Wittenberg. They are Teutons, they were not born to be
conquered by Slavs and Latins. Their forefathers were
described by Tacitus, and they fought and conquered in the
Teutoburger Wald. Now it is the descendants of the old
Teutons who are gathered under the German eagles to struggle
for freedom between the Rhine and the Vistula, and far
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