was clear that he was deeply affected by the loss of these
landscape embellishments which he had learned to love so much that
they became part of his life, and that their destruction deeply
enraged him against the enemy. Though I saw his point of view and
sympathised with him, I questioned him in the hope of learning of
some real atrocities. It was useless. Although he made general
charges against the Russians, he always reverted, when pinned down
to facts, with a fresh burst of anger, to the castle and church of
Labiau as his pet atrocity.

The orderly had just been commanded to take me on a search for
quarters for the night, when an automobile horn tooted beneath the
window. Heavy steps on the stairs; a Staff Officer entered the
room, looked surprised to see me, and asked who I was. The
Commandant justified his permission to let me remain by eulogising
the noble work upon which I was engaged, but though the Staff
Officer's objections were hushed, he did not enthuse over my coming.

With intent to convince him that I was already hard at work I told
him of the terrible destruction of the castle and church at Labiau,
which I would visit on the following day.

"I have a sergeant below who was there, and I will have him come
in," he said.

The sergeant entered, clicked his heels at attention; a doughty old
warrior, small and wiry, not a civilian thrust into field-grey, but
a soldier, every inch of him, a Prussian soldier, turned to stone
in the presence of his superior officers, his sharp clear eyes
strained on some point in space directly ahead. He might have