It is easier to cross the frontier going out of Germany than any other
frontier in Europe. This statement includes neutral Denmark where they
nearly tore my clothes off me searching for gold. You are not allowed
to take any gold out of Denmark. There are two reasons why the German
frontier is easy to cross. One is, that most people who come out of
Germany are anxious to come out, and they are afraid to hide anything
for if it was found they would be sent back and held. The second reason
is that the Germans don't give suspicious persons a permit to leave the
country.
The day before you arrive at the German frontier the officials there
know all about you. They know the history of your life and every move
you have made in Germany. They know whether you are to be well searched
or to be put through a form of searching. At the frontier they ask
you no questions, for everything has been sent to them by the military
commandery in Berlin. An American newspaper man in Copenhagen told me,
that if the man at the door of the searching-room at the frontier gives
you a low number you are to be well searched, and if you are given a
high number you are hardly searched at all.
It takes at least three weeks for a foreigner--neutral or enemy--to get
a permit to leave Germany; that is unless you have influence, and then
it can be done in a few days. But that influence has to be a powerful
one, for the military authorities are very strict.
The regular way to get the permit is to make a formal application at
your local police. This application must be very politely written. I
wrote out my application so, "_Ich ersuche um Erlaubnis, nach Amerika
zu gehen._" My local policeman was horrified at this. "It is not polite
enough," he said, "you must take it home and write it over." So I wrote
beginning like this, "Honorable Gentlemen, I beg politely to have the
honor to ask your gracious permission to leave Germany, etc." This
letter made a great hit with the policeman.
After waiting a while, and if the police find that you have a clean
record, you get a notice to come to the military commandery on a
certain day. There you find your permit or _Passierschein_ waiting for
you. The soldier in charge asks you what day you wish to leave and then
he gives you a day before that date and a day after that date--three
days upon which you can travel.
Then the soldier takes a stack of papers--about twenty sheets, and
puts them--with your pass, four photographs and your permit ticket--in
an envelope and tells you to go to the police headquarters. Then your
running around commences, and it takes you at least two days to get all
the necessary stamps and seals. Then the evening before you leave the
country you must go to your local police and register. If you should
forget to do this you would be sent back from the frontier.
You are not allowed to take with you any writing of any kind, or
printed matter, books etc., out of Germany without having them first
censored. They have a place where the letters are read and sealed, and
if you have a lot of books they send a soldier to your house. He looks
over the books and packs your trunk and then seals it, and it is not
opened again at the frontier. You pay the soldier one mark an hour for
the work.
You are not allowed to take anything that Germany might need, out of
Germany--no tools, no instruments and no electrical apparatus; that
is, if the things have been bought in Germany. If it is something of a
foreign make you can take it with you.
I had a little electric stove that I was very fond of, and I knew
that if I ever went to the frontier with that stove they would take
it away from me in a minute, as it was new and German make. I went to
an influential man I knew in the Foreign Office and I asked him if he
would seal up my stove for me. He laughed but said, "The German Foreign
Office can't seal up a stove." I was disappointed but not daunted, and
I inveigled the military division of the Foreign Office to help me in
getting a permit to take my stove over the border.
You are allowed to take one thousand marks out of Germany, so I got all
my money over that amount changed into Swedish money. I took it to Dr.
Roediger, the censor, and asked him to seal it for me.
"How many marks have you?" he asked.
"No marks at all," I answered, "that is Swedish money." As he was a
nice, sensible, clever man, he asked no more questions but sealed it
for me.
It was Sunday when I left Berlin. The train was almost empty. I had my
money in my hand grip, and in the other hand I had my precious stove
which had a case like a kodak. At Rostock a man came through the train
and asked to see our passports. He only looked at the passports of the
Germans in the coupé with me, but he took my pass and wrote a long list
about it on a slip of paper. The people in the coupé stared at me.
At noon we came to Warnemünde. At the door of the military customs
we were given a number. Mine was "J 19." Then we went into a room
where a soldier called out the numbers. There were only about thirty
of us in all, I was the only enemy--the rest were Germans and Danes.
When the man called "J 19" I handed him my pass and my permit. "Oh, a
_Passierschein_." he said. The passes were shoved through a little slot
in the wall, and as soon as our pass examination was through, we were
let into a room where our baggage was examined.
As I entered the room, a soldier stepped forward. He had my pass in
his hand. "What is your name?" he asked, and that question was the only
question that I was asked when I crossed the frontier out of Germany.
A soldier in a black uniform opened my trunk first. I showed him the
permit I had for the stove. He looked at the sealed packages and then
he passed me on to another soldier in gray. This soldier took the
wrapping off all my sealed packages, and then he asked me if I had any
other writing or books in my trunk, and when I said, "No," he closed
the trunk again without taking one thing out of it or looking at it at
all. This man spoke rather good English, and when I asked him where he
had learned it he answered, "Talking to little American children that
I know."
Then he told me that I would have to be searched and he gave me the
number "91." He carried my baggage to the dressing-room for me. Here a
woman searched me. I had to take off my skirt and waist and shoes, but
I was not torn apart, and the searching was anything but thorough. When
I came out I was given my pass again and told I could get on the boat.
The whole performance did not take more than fifteen minutes.
On the boat I had to have my baggage searched again by the Danish
officials, but this was merely a farce, for they knew well enough that
nobody was trying to export anything out of Germany. The dinner on
the Warnemünde boat was wonderful--everything possible and without a
card. We all sat down and ate and ate and ate. After dinner, lovely
girls came around selling the most wonderful strawberries. But when we
were out about an hour the sea got very rough. Afterwards we left the
boat and boarded a train on the island. Before the train started we
all stood in the corridor of the train looking at the boat we had just
left. It was all spattered down the sides with red. Our thoughts were
all the same, and then in the silence, the piping voice of a little
German girl was heard, "_Wie schade um die Erdbeeren!_" And we all
echoed her thoughts, "Too bad about the strawberries."
* * * * * *
Transcriber's note:
Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have
been preserved.
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.