The Land of Deepening Shadow - Germany-at-War

D. Thomas Curtin
The Land of Deepening Shadow -
Germany-at-War

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Title: The Land of Deepening Shadow Germany-at-War
Author: D. Thomas Curtin
Release Date: May 23, 2004 [EBook #12418]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
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THE LAND OF DEEPENING SHADOW
GERMANY-AT-WAR

BY
D. THOMAS CURTIN

1917

TO
LORD NORTHCLIFFE

CONTENTS

CHAPTER
I GETTING IN II WHEN SKIES WERE BLUE III THE CRIME
AGAINST THE CHILDREN IV PULPITS OF HATE V PUPPET
PROFESSORS VI THE LIE ON THE FILM VII THE IDEA
FACTORY VIII CORRESPONDENTS IN SHACKLES IX ANTON
LANG OF OBERAMMERGAU X SUBMARINE MOTIVES XI THE
EAGLE AND THE VULTURE XII IN THE GRIP OF THE FLEET
XIII A LAND OF SUBSTITUTES XIV THE GAGGING OF
LIEBKNECHT XV PREVENTIVE ARREST XVI POLICE RULE IN
BOHEMIA XVII SPIES AND SEMI-SPIES XVIII THE IRON HAND
IN ALSACE-LORRAINE XIX THE WOMAN IN THE SHADOW
XX THE WAR SLAVES OF ESSEN XXI TOMMY IN GERMANY
XXII HOW THE PRUSSIAN GUARD CAME HOME FROM THE
SOMME XXIII HOW GERMANY DENIES XXIV GERMANY'S
HUMAN RESOURCES XXV BERLIN'S EAST-END XXVI IN THE
DEEPENING SHADOW XXVII ACROSS THE NORTH SEA
XXVIII THE LITTLE SHIPS

THE LAND OF DEEPENING SHADOW

CHAPTER I
GETTING IN
Early in November, 1915, I sailed from New York to Rotterdam.
I spent nearly a month in Holland completing my preparations, and at
length one grey winter morning I took the step that I dreaded. I had left
Germany six months before with a feeling that to enter it again and get

safely out was hopeless, foolish, dangerous, impossible. But at any rate
I was going to try.
At Zevenaar, while the Dutch customs officials were examining my
baggage, I patronised the youth selling apple cakes and coffee, for after
several months' absence from Germany my imagination had been
kindled to contemplate living uncomfortably on short rations for some
time as the least of my troubles. Furthermore, the editorial opinion
vouchsafed in the Dutch newspaper which I had bought at Arnhem was
that Austria's reply to the "Ancona" Note made a break with America
almost a certainty. Consequently as the train rolled over the few
remaining miles to the frontier I crammed down my apple cakes,
resolved to face the unknown on a full stomach.
The wheels ground under the brakes, I pulled down the window with a
bang and looked out no longer upon the soft rolled military cap of
Holland but upon the business-like spiked helmet of Germany. I steeled
myself. There was no backing out now. I had crossed the German
frontier.
The few passengers filed into the customs room, where a corps of
skilled mechanics prised open the contents of bags and trunks. Each
man was an expert in his profession. A hand plunged into one of my
bags and emerged with several bars of chocolate, the wrappers of
which were shorn off before the chocolate was well out of the bag. A
bottle of liniment, the brand that made us forget our sprains and bruises
in college days, was brought to light, and with commendable dexterity
the innocent label was removed in a twinkling with a specially
constructed piece of steel. The label had a picture of a man with a very
extensive moustache--the man who had made the liniment famous, or
_vice versa_--but the trade name and proprietor must go unsung in the
Fatherland, for the Government has decreed that travellers entering
Germany may bring only three things containing printed matter, viz.:
railroad tickets, money and passports.
When the baggage squad had finished its task and replaced all
unsuspected articles, the bags were sealed and sent on to await the
owner, whose real troubles now began.

I stepped into a small room where I was asked to hand over all printed
matter on my person. Two reference books necessary for my work were
tried and found not guilty, after which they were enclosed in a large
envelope and sent through the regular censor.
Switched into a third room before I had a chance even to bid good-bye
to the examiners in the second, I found myself standing before a small
desk answering questions about myself and my business asked tersely
by an inquisitor who read from a lengthy paper which had to be filled
in, and behind whom stood three officers in uniform. These
occasionally interpolated questions and always glared into my very
heart. When
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