THE GERMAN SEARCH.

Waikato Times, Volume 87, Issue 13275, 2 September 1916, Page 1 (Supplement)

THE GERMAN SEARCH.

A Russian coiiespondent who recently visited Germany wrote for the "Daily Chronicle" a description of his experi--,'iices. The following extract giv;.l- - vivid description of the way he we searched after landing at Warnemunde One of the "subs." takes my passpor and guides me into the next room: til• civilian follows him. I am in a laru custom-house hall, provided with conn ters running on both sides: on thea counters our luggage is heaped. I lock for mine. "Open, and take out all contents.* comes a sharp order from the lieutenant I clear out everything up to the last dirty handkeichief. The projector on stand tiares up with a hiss, and undei its piercing rays my clothes are passed one after the other. Each double collai is opened : every tie is searched, and tin socks turned inside out. After this second cycle of the Getmar purgatory my belongings aie again jjacked up and proper labels attached. Am I free at last? 1 am taken int< a third room, hefoie the presence of tin superior authority, the Herr Hauptmaun and a few young officers. At first come the usual questions: "Name?" "Where?" "Why?" and then: "What is your profession?"' I name a- certain branch of business which I chose to represent. "You are going to Germany on busifJ&S ?" "Yes."' "With what firms and in what towns do you intend doing business?" I give the names and addresses of a few firms. An energetic lieutenant reaches from one of the numerous shelves a directory and checks my statement. "Gut. Where have you been living lecf nt-ly ?" "I give the name of a- neutral country "How long have you lived there?" I reply. "And whence are you proceeding fron Germany?" I name a town in another country. "And what is your permanent ad dress?" I again give a reply, but of course I do not mention Moscow or any otlie Russian town. Without saying a word the lieutenan hands to the captain a few Baedekers. : reco<ini3e their red bindings. "You 6ay you have lived so many year at N? Can you tell me where you lived there?" I name a street and the number of c house -.vhich I know to exist in N, but where I have never lived. "You know, of course, the street Y; Can you tell me how the square at the end of it is called?" I give the necessary reply, and submit to a further string of such questions. 1 have to tell the whereabouts of the post office, the Palace, such and such a theatre, shops, statues, etc.. etc. In short, I had to give such information as the captain could easily check by his Baedeker. 1 {Kissed the examination with honours. "You say you lived constantly at as if wishing to trip me up. I repeat the name of a tiny little town in a small neutral country. and 1 cannot help laughing inwardly at the perplexity in which the German officer will soon find himself, because I know that a description of this little town will not be found in any of the Baedekers. He searches his Baedeker for the place, and having found only a tiny dot on the map angrily gives up the game. "Now will you follow me." says one of the lieutenants, and guides me to a corridor, along both sides of which run cubicles like cloak-rooms in a miniature theatre in some provincial town. We ent'.r one of the cubicles. "Will you have the goodness to undress, but. first of all, please, take off your boots." The lieutenant takes the boots and hands them over to the soldier who accompanies us. "Have no fear. We shall rip tliein open and take off the heels, but we will sew them up again and return in good condition." Of course, it is useless to protest: 1 take off everything. All my body, right down to my feet and nails, is carefully inspected by means of an electric lamp. The lining of my suit is all ripped open, but is not sewn up again. The contents of my pockets are carefully examined. Needless to say. 1 have no letters, books, papers, nor documents, except my passport. The lieutenant takes his glasses and looks through my passport, opens my watch, looks at its mechanism, reads the trade mark of the manufacturers, and then takes my fountain-pen, with which 1 never part, pours out the ink, and is busy probing its inside with a hat-pin. "What can one hide there?" 1 ask inquisitively. "Have you never seen pendants, lings, and other things? You hold them up to the light, and through a tiny little point you see highly magnified views of cathedrals, of mountains, or of towns, etc. Well, you can do the same with any document, reduce it photographically. and carry it at the bottom of your fountain-pen." I had to agree that this was quite possible. The lieutenant is chatting freely with me, at the same time, of course, trying to catch me unawares. But I am on my guard. My boots were brought in. and, indeed, on the soles one could see new neat stitches.

I dress, and at last the final stage is reached. A fifth officer haggles with nie about the time I should spend in Germany. and I obtain permission to stay ten days in Berlin and four in Dresden. * I breathe freely once more and go on the platform. I look at my watch; all these investigations have taken up altogether fifty-five minutes. I find my place in the train, and make myself comfortable. Four hours hence I shall be in Berlin.

Someho-.v I cannot believe it, and it seems to me that it is all a dream.