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A moment afterward he said something that pleased her so well that the last we saw of them his arm was about her waist as they went down the path together. Parniewinkel lay forty to fifty miles northeast of Bremen, which in turn was one hundred and fifty miles from the Holland border. We reckoned on having to walk double that in covering the stretch, and figured on twenty-one days for the trip.

His wife, in Toronto, has since informed me that he is still in Germany and has only lately been recaptured after another attempt at escape. At eleven that night we arrived at our destination. This was the strong punishment camp of Parniewinkel, in Hanover, on the road over which Napoleon had marched to his doom at Moscow. We wondered if we, too, were going to ours.

Sheer Starvation Slipping It Over the Sentry The Court Martial Thirty Days Cells No Place for a Gourmand In Napoleon's Footsteps Parniewinkel Camp "Like Father, Like Son" The Last Kind German Running Amuck The Torture of the Russians The Continental Times "K. of K. Is Gone!" Upon arrival at camp, we were put in cells for eleven days while awaiting our court-martial.