one sector of the circle swept by her enormous guns. I should
hesitate to mention the millions of dollars of self-inflicted damage to
Antwerp's suburbs alone. Luther and I did not at the time have the
military password. So that first day was a specimen in the matter of
hold-ups and arrests. From the time that we started across the level
plains which approach the city until we got through the double sector
of forts, we were stopped, questioned, and searched by thirteen
different groups of soldiers. There were marry occasions where, after
one pair of stupid sentries had put us through the grill, a second pair,
watching from a distance of thirty yards or so, promptly repeated the
entire performance. As these fellows spoke only Flemish dialect, our
conversations were not particularly fluent. Frequently there gathered
around us a crowd of gaping peasants, and when the word
"Americaine" came out, there were "Oh's" and "Ah" of astonishment,
or as often, when our explanations were not believed, sibilant hisses
that shaped themselves into the menacing word "Spion." We had
been led to believe that sooner or later a wool-witted sentry would
shoot first and investigate later; but so far they had simply crossed
bayonets, or with their hands up and palms outward had signaled us
to halt.

Our experience that day, as later events proved, was not an
extraordinary occurrence for war-time, especially for those
endeavoring to gain entrance to an invested city. But as our first and
maiden adventure it somewhat shook our nerve. When the grilling
was over we felt about as guilty as any criminal who has been put
through the third degree as practiced in the old police department
days, and I had several times to look over my passport and letters of
credentials to persuade myself that I was really not a spy. Eventually
we were permitted to pass the gates of the Gare du Nord. Once