stepped out of the pages of the Seven Years' War.

Nobody spoke. The pale yellow light of the oil lamp on the
Commandants desk fell on the military faces, figures and trappings
of the men in the room. The shuffling tramp of soldiers in the
dark street below died away in the direction of the river. I felt
the military tenseness of the scene. I realised that I was inside
the German lines on a bluff that was succeeding but might collapse
at any moment.

Feeling that a good investigating committee should display
initiative I broke the silence by questioning the little sergeant,
and I began on a line which I felt would please the Commandant,
"You were at Labiau during the fighting?" I asked.

"I was, sir!"

He did not move a muscle except those necessary for speech. His
eyes were still rigid on that invisible something directly ahead.
He clearly was conscious of the importance of his position, as
informant to a stranger before his superior officers.

"I have heard that the beautiful old castle and the magnificent old
church were destroyed," I continued.

"You know of this, of course?"

"Ja, ja, that is true! Our wonderful artillery knocked them to
pieces when we drove the Russians out in panic!"