I walked up the little gravel path with here and there a patch of green
dilapidated grass on either side. I remember the window curtains were
of yellow plush. In the window seat stood a tall vase with artificial
flowers flanked by a birdcage with two canaries. It was all very
suburban, and did not look at all like the residence of such a famous
man. An orderly, with his left arm thrust into a top-boot, opened
the door. In a tone of voice that left no chance for the familiar
War-Office question: "Have you an appointment, sir?" I inquired whether
the Field-Marshal was at home, at the same time giving him my letter.
The orderly peeled off his top-boot, unfastened his overalls, and
slipped on his coat.
Then he carefully took my letter, holding it gingerly between thumb
and third finger, so as not to leave any marks on it, and ushered me
into the "Wohnzimmer," a sort of living- and dining-room combined. It
was the usual German affair. A couch, a table, a huge porcelain stove,
were the prominent pieces of furniture. All three were ranged against
the long wall. The straight-backed chairs were covered with red plush.
On the walls hung several monstrosities, near-etchings representing
the effigies of the Kaiser, the Kaiserin, and, of course, of "Our"
Hindenburg. There was the usual overabundance of artificial flowers and
ferns so dear to the heart of every German Hausfrau.
The two canaries lived in the most elaborate homemade cage. (I
understand they were the property of the "Hausfrau," not of
Hindenburg!) On the table, covered with a check tablecloth, stood a
bowl containing three goldfish. The floor was covered with a bright
carpet, and in front of one of the doors lay a mat with "Salve" on
it. Over the couch hung a photographic enlargement of a middle-aged
soldier leaning nonchalantly against a door on which was chalked
"Kriegsjahr, 1914." Over the frame hung a wreath with a black and white
ribbon, inscribed "In Memoriam," telling its eloquent story.
Behind me was a map of the Eastern front, and pinned alongside of it a
caricature of a British Tommy sitting astride of a pyramid and pulling
a number of strings fastened to the legs, arms and head of the Sultan,
who was apparently dancing a jig.
That room impressed itself upon my memory for all time. I often dream
of it.
* * * * *
I had waited only a few minutes when a young officer came in, who,
bowing obsequiously, wished me a very formal good-morning. I took my
cue from the way he bowed. He explained that the General was out in
the car but was expected back before noon. Would I condescend to wait?
Needless to say, I did "condescend."
I forgot to mention one point in my meditations. When I took the chance
of continuing East instead of returning to Berlin, I thought there
might just be a possibility that the Adjutant or Staff Officer who
had spoken with von Schlieffen had entirely taken it upon himself to
say "No," and that it was not unlikely that the General knew nothing
whatever about my letter or my contemplated visit. If my surmise was
correct, I would stand a sporting chance, because it was hardly to be
expected that out of the thirty-odd officers comprising the Staff, I
should run bang into the very man who had telephoned.
I soon knew that the officer in immediate attendance on Hindenburg
was not aware of my _contretempts_ at Allenstein on the previous day.
Neither did he inquire after my passes. You see, they take these things
for granted. Would I prefer to wait here or come in his office, where
the stove was lit? Of course, I thought that would be more pleasant. I
thought, and am glad to say was not mistaken, that probably the young
officer felt he needed some mental relaxation. This will sound strange,
but I have found during my travels through Germany, that in spite of
the many warnings not to talk shop, every soldier, from the humblest
private to the highest General--I am sure not excepting the War Lord
himself--dearly loves to expatiate on matters military, his ambitions
and hopes. This one was no exception. He chatted away very merrily,
and more than once I recognized points and arguments which I had read
weeks ago in interviews granted by General Hindenburg to Austrian
journalists. He quite imagined himself an embryo Field-Marshal.
He showed me several excellent maps, which gave every railroad line
on both sides of the Polish frontier. They certainly emphasized the
enormous difference and the many advantages of German _versus_ Russian
railroad communications. Many of his predictions have since come
true, but most of them have not. He hinted very mysteriously, but
quite unmistakably, at a prospective Russian _débâcle_, and predicted
a separate peace with Russia before the end of 1915! "And then," he
added, "we will shake up the old women at the Western front a bit and
show them the 'Hindenburg method.'"
* * * * *
The room we were in was fitted up as an emergency staff office. There
were several large tables, maps galore, a safe, a number of books
that looked like ledgers and journals, six telephones and a telegraph
instrument. Two non-commissioned officers were writing in a corner. In
case anything important happens at night, such as an urgent despatch
that demands immediate attention, everything was at hand to enable the
General to issue new orders. A staff-officer and a clerk are always on
duty.
I learned later on, though, that a position in that auxiliary
staff-office at Hindenburg's residence is more or less of a sinecure.
All despatches go first to Ludendorff, Hindenburg's Chief-of-Staff,
who, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, issues orders without
consulting his Chief.