Inorder to show up the general attitude of treatment of British prisoners, I must, however reluctantly, become more personal and relate the manner in which my wounds were treated. After all, one judges people by one’s personal experience of them, and no one can be responsible for the opinions of others. On my arrival from Munden my ankle was practically well, but the pain in my chest was growing worse daily. To add to this, I began to break out in abscesses, having eight at one time, when I was at my worst. These abscesses, since I had never had such a thing before, were probably due to the bad food at Munden and the very low condition I was reduced to, owing to much pain andvery little sleep for some months. Yet, when we arrived at Bischofswerda, in so many ways such an excellent camp in comparison to others in Germany, there was no doctor there. A doctor did appear once in about fourteen days, and then he seldom had time to visit me, although I was quite bedridden at the time. After I had been there about six weeks I did get some attention from a French doctor who had been taken prisoner; but as the medicines he could get hold of were very limited, he was not able to do much.
I was still in bed at the end of June before the German doctor paid me a visit. I was then almost free from the abscesses, owing to having lived almost entirely on lettuce and green food, which I had been able to buy from the canteen; but his diagnosis as to the pain in my right side, back, and chest was rheumatism, since the ribs which had been so badly smashed were bound to be in a very delicate condition. He could not account for theamount of blood I brought up daily in my sputum, but said it was nothing, and that all I wanted was to get up and walk about. Well, I’m not a doctor, so I suppose he knew his job, and although very weak I made the effort, and gradually went about the camp like any one else. In July I started to play tennis, but soon found that any sort of violent exercise caused me to bring up far greater quantities of blood, besides giving great pain. All this time I could neither lie nor sleep on the right side, or at times even bear to have my tunic buttoned. Soon after the doctor advised me to get up and walk about, he gave me some stuff for rheumatism—aspirin, I think.
At the end of July 1915 this doctor left, and then a permanent doctor was appointed, who visited the camp daily between 10.30 and 12.30, Sundays excepted. To him I carried my aches and pains. Without examining me he looked up the report of the last doctor, and said,“Oh yes—rheumatism and gout”; he said the blood-spitting was nothing, and that I was not to take too violent exercise; and although I visited him on and off every few days I never got any change out of him.
About this time a traveller from a big firm of camera-makers arrived at the camp, and with the commandant’s permission several orders were given, so many of the officers being not only rather keen on photography, but wishing to be able to take and send home some snaps of everyday scenes in our prison camp. Three other fellows and myself bought a really good reflex camera, and a lot of very decent photos were taken with it. Unfortunately, as far as I was concerned, the camera only arrived the day before I was ordered away.
On September 3rd, 1915, I was ordered to pack up my trucks, as I was being removed to Clausthal in Hartz for medical treatment, and on the following morningoff I went with my bag and baggage to Clausthal, under the guard of an officer and a man. I had a very pleasant journey up through Dresden, Leipzig, Munden, and Halle to Clausthal, situated in the Hartz Mountains, surrounded by very pretty country. We spent the first night at Munden, and reached Clausthal the following day. At some station between Leipzig and Munden we changed on to another line. The German officer took me to one of the men’s waiting-rooms, ordered some food, placed a guard over me, and left us—probably to go and get a good fat dinner himself somewhere. Shortly after he went a troop of about twelve French Tommies came in under guard, looking very bedraggled and miserable. They were made to sit down on the floor in a corner, and looked so pinched and thin that I determined, if possible, to help them if I could, should they happen to be short of food for the want of a little money; so I went overand spoke to them, but was immediately stopped by the guard, who explained that any sort of communication between prisoners wasverboten.
Resuming my seat at the table, I began to puzzle out the problem, and after some time I solved the difficulty. Just before I left Bischofswerda a Russian officer who was with me in the sick-room had given me a box of Russian cigarettes, and by good luck I had them in my pocket. Everybody knows that Russian cigarettes have a hollow mouthpiece about an inch and a quarter long. Tearing a fifty-mark bill in half, and carefully rolling the two halves into the shape and size of the mouthpiece, I inserted the pieces into the mouthpiece of two cigarettes. It took some time to do this, since my hands had to work underneath the table, whilst I was apparently reading my book, which was lying open on the table. When the cigarettes were complete, I filled my case with Russian cigarettes, and offered oneto each of the guards, keeping my thumb carefully on the two prepared cigarettes. They were accepted with gusto by the guard. When they had lit up, I asked permission to give some to the French prisoners, and having accepted them themselves they could hardly refuse. I distributed two or three; then offered the remaining two in the case to the most intelligent-looking, at the same time saying, “Cherchez.” To my disgust he looked absolutely blank. But when the German officer returned to take me away, he rose, saluted, and said, “Au revoir, mon lieutenant, et merci beaucoup.” The officer fortunately could not speak French and asked me what he said. I replied, “Only a respectful greeting from a private to an officer.”
I must pause a minute to describe our arrival at Munden, as it was a phenomenal sight to me. On approaching our old prison it appeared much the same as when we left it in April, but on entering arevelation was in store for me. To start with, the eating-hall was considerably cleaned up, many new tables and chairs provided, the tables covered with white oil-cloth, and pictures executed by different artistic, Russian officers, hung round the walls. Afterwards I visited the British officers and found there were four new ones, lately captured. But the room! Wonder of wonders! There were chests of drawers, a wardrobe, extra tables and chairs, only five or six beds in rooms that had held nine in our time, and only nine in those that had held seventeen! But it was in going out into the yard that I nearly fainted with surprise. To start with, there was a long wooden shed built out from the eating-hall, erected by the American Y.M.C.A., and very comfortably furnished with tables and chairs. This room acted as a sort of recreation-room on wet days. But the yard! What had been a sloppy sliding mess of mud and a few trees was transformed into a rippinggarden; grand paths ran here and there, and I’ve seen many flower-beds at Hampton Court inferior to those at Munden, which were well kept and artistically laid out. To cap it all, the yard had been enlarged by wiring in the ground for two tennis-courts laid at the Boche expense, level cinder courts, with a good roller and all the rest of the paraphernalia necessary to a hard court. Also a dry canteen and store had been erected, both under the management of the officers, and things were running very smoothly and satisfactorily. I even saw some eggs.
My readers must forgive my divergence from my story, but it was such an astounding revelation to me to see what could be done with a really bad camp like Munden, and I desire particularly to draw attention to it, since it was entirely brought about by the American Ambassador, and so clearly pointed out the endeavours in certain German quarters to produce a good impression on theAmericans. It was all eyewash from the beginning to end—eyewash for the Americans. In so far as the latrines were concerned, they were no better. No one could alter them, though even there the difference was very marked, since Munden at that time only held between five and six hundred instead of over a thousand prisoners.
To continue the account of my travels to Clausthal, the officer and man were exceedingly polite and very considerate, and heavily strafed some civilians who jeered at me, calling the usual “Schweinhund!” There was one humorous episode on the way up at Leipzig, where we had lunch. On the table was a Worcester Sauce bottle, on the printed red label of which had been pasted the words “Gott strafe England.” I nearly cried with laughter—real Worcester Sauce from England and “Gott strafe England!” It’s one of the richest jokes I’ve heard of. On pointing it out to the officer, he could not see the joke.
I wonder if the reader remembers that I started on my journey in Germany, wounded, in a cattle-truck. From cattle-trucks we were promoted to fourth-class carriages, and now to second class. Later I shall tell of how we occasionally travelled first class. This was in keeping with everything else. Prisoners taken in the spring of 1915 grumbled at their treatment. Had they been taken in 1914 they would have had more to complain of. Throughout my imprisonment one thing was absolutely clear—the longer the war went on, and the farther the hopes of ultimate victory receded from the German mind, the better treatment their prisoners received. I don’t refer to food, as, though they allowed us to buy food in 1915, they can’t do that now, since they have not got the food to sell. They cannot give what they have not got; but when the Boches thought they were going to break through at Verdun in February and March 1916, things were very hardand uncomfortable for the prisoners. On the other hand, our victory on the Somme brought us all sorts of little concessions.
The Boche is before all things a bully. If he’s winning, he bullies; if he’s losing, he is polite and oily. A good idea of their pettiness is shown by the fact that, having allowed us to buy maps at Bischofswerda in 1915, showing the actual fighting fronts both in Europe and the East, they were confiscated when the offensive on the Somme looked like being successful. This was done in order that the prisoners might not have the satisfaction of recording the British and French gains on the maps, on which we had kept a record of the struggle in the usual manner with wool and little flags pinned through. Some months after the advance on the Somme, when the news was no longer an exhilarating tonic to the prisoners, these maps were returned, curiously enough at a time when the Boches had made a small but successful counter-attack. This confiscation of mapshappened on more than one occasion, but, much to the disgust of the Boches, it always bucked us up quite a lot, since we felt sure that the cause must be that the Allies had made some sort of a gain somewhere, although the German papers might give no news of it.
On arrival at the station at Clausthal there was actually a cab to drive us to the camp! This princely treatment almost dumbfounded me. Of course I was being sent to Clausthal as an invalid for treatment, so perhaps I should have taken it for granted; but our previous experience did not allow us to look forward to being treated in any sort of human manner. I had to pay very heavily for the cab. The camp at Clausthal turned out to be an old hotel, one of the examples of German architecture so often to be seen in that part of Germany, pretentious and jerry-built. A garden, surrounded by the usual wire fences and sentry patrols, enclosed a more or less square exercising-ground of about one hundred yards in length. More than half the hotel was taken up by a large court-room, with a small stage. This was the biergarten of the hotel, and was utilised as the general eating-hall and canteen, where all the meals were served, and where the prisoners passed their time when indoors. The remaining portion of the hotel was divided into bedrooms of varying size and comfort.
On the whole Clausthal was perhaps one of the best camps in Germany, though certainly not equal to Bischofswerda. At the same time the commandant and staff in general were always very polite and correct, and not generally insulting and bullying, as at Bischofswerda. Along one side of the eating-hall described above ran a series of wooden screens, forming a number of tea-rooms, evidently built for greater privacy. Curtains hung on ropes divided these boxes from the vulgar gaze of the people in the centre of the hall. These boxes served as sleeping-rooms fora number of officers, four in each box. To one of these I was allotted, and a very cold and horribly draughty spot it was. I found there over twenty British officers, who immediately on my arrival pounced on me for the latest news; but when they found out that I was a 1914, like themselves, a groan of despair went up. The next morning I saw the commandant, who did not seem to know where I had come from, so it was necessary to explain that I had been sent to undergo a course of treatment for rheumatism and gout, affecting me in the region of my wound. “What!” he said, “you’ve come here for treatment for rheumatism!” and laughed sarcastically. “You could not come to a worse place for it. We’ve no treatment here of any sort—never had. There is not even a hospital here, only a sick-room, which a doctor from the town visits for half an hour daily; but you had better see the doctor when he comes to-day.”
When I saw the doctor and told him that the doctor at Bischofswerda had diagnosed my case as rheumatism settled in the regions of the wound, he did not seem to agree, but of course would not say so. The only comment he made was that he thought I was in need of an operation to extract whatever it was that might be causing the trouble. I have not mentioned that at the bottom of the exercise-ground, outside the wire, extended both to the right and left two small lakes, extremely picturesque, but of course the mist which rose off them night and morning was not exactly the best thing for any sort of lung trouble. The consequence was that within a week of my arrival I was confined to the sick-room with a sort of congestion, which grew worse instead of better, until one day the doctor applied to the authorities in Berlin to have me removed again to Bischofswerda, from where I had originally come. The transfer took threemonths to get through, but eventually, at the end of November, I again returned to Bischofswerda and my old friends.
The principal complaint at Clausthal was the lack of baths. Fancy an hotel without bath-rooms! What dirty beasts the Boches must be. The officers had to make their ablutions as best they could in large tin pails, a most unsatisfactory way of washing. Also the lavatory accommodation was not nearly adequate for the two hundred odd officers there. The consequence was it was continually out of order. Last, but certainly not least, the restricted area for exercise. After my escape to England a gentleman once said to me, “Oh yes, Clausthal; I once read about it. A fine camp with extensive grounds. You had a golf-course there, had you not?” “Well, there was a golf-course,” I replied. “But have you ever tried to play over a nine-hole course contained within a boundary of one hundred yards square, and kid yourselfyou are playing golf?” Only prisoners are capable of such philosophy. “Make the best of it,” is their motto; and so they did. There was as much excitement over a morning’s round of golf there as if they were playing at Sunningdale; but, believe me, a far better and more exciting course could be made at Piccadilly Circus. There you have the first tee, say, at the corner outside Swan & Edgar’s, and a really pretty mashie shot over the line of motor-buses usually to be seen there. Probably you land in the fountain and lose a stroke, but eventually, with varying fortune, you make the first hole in the entrance to the Pavilion! Possibly you hit the big commissionaire or the policeman. They’d be very wroth, but not so angry as a Russian or French general strolling round the dilapidated flower-beds at Clausthal. They loathed golf and the very name of it; but the Britishers played on. Oh yes, we had “some” golf-course at Clausthal!
The reader must not think I’m trying to be funny. I’m not, but I am endeavouring to bring home the fact that in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, when the people at home hear of such luxuries as golf-courses, etc., in prison camps in Germany, they are apt to remark that the prisoners are not so badly treated after all. “Why, they are even allowed to play golf!” which immediately brings up a picture of fellows ranging over the country, more or less having a good time. Take, for example, the fact that I was removed from Bischofswerda for special treatment for rheumatism and gout. In October 1915 it was officially published in England that I had been removed to the Hartz Mountains for treatment. Eyewash, nothing more! What else could it be, since we have seen that on arrival at Clausthal it was a very bad place for people suffering from rheumatism, and that they had no method of treatment or ever had? Yet a list of officers was reported officiallythrough Switzerland to England as having been sent there for treatment. As I appeared on that list, I know what I’m talking about. People at home thought and said, “The kindly Germans are even sending their prisoners to the Hartz Mountains, the most beautiful part of Germany, in order to cure them of their rheumatism, poor things!”
The feeding at Clausthal was in one way much better than at Bischofswerda; that is to say; the actual rations were more plentiful, of better quality, and better cooked; but, on the other hand, in so far as being able to order and buy food one could get infinitely more at the latter place. Drinks, however, were cheaper and better at Clausthal. Of course I’m speaking of 1915, when we could get something to drink if the commandant allowed. Personally I did very well in the way of food at Clausthal, more especially when I was in the sick-room, since two British majors prepared and brought me all myfood. I got very uppish over that, for it is not often a junior sub. has two regular majors to wait on him hand and foot. Some day I hope to be able to repay their great kindness.
Two or three days before leaving Clausthal I bought from the canteen a large pannier basket to hold all my belongings, as on the way from Bischofswerda my box had been rather badly smashed up. I mention the basket here because it had a rather interesting future. When the day arrived for me to return to Bischofswerda, my baggage having been packed by one of our officers, I took leave of some of the cheeriest and best fellows that it has ever been my lot to meet, and was again driven to the station. The cabman charged me seven marks for a three-quarter-mile drive; but still I did not have to walk, so I suppose I should not grumble. Before leaving, my luggage was, as usual, very carefully searched, though what awful weapon they thought I couldpossibly have got hold of and secreted goodness knows.
The journey back was more or less uneventful, except that this time I had as a guard one N.C.O. and one man, both of whom were respectful enough, but neither of whom gave me much chance of escape. Had I been strong enough at that time, I certainly could have killed them both at one period of the journey and made my escape through the guard’s van, in which was the guard. On this occasion we were travelling fourth class, probably because it was not an officer who was conducting me, in which case it goes to prove that prisoners are not sent first or second class because they are officers, but for the comfort of the conducting German officer. This fourth-class carriage was built on the same coach as the guard’s van, and I did not feel that I was strong enough to cope with two of them silently enough without disturbing the guard. It was night and pitch-dark,the train only running about fifteen miles an hour, and I’d never had such a chance before. However, after my long period in bed, I felt I could not tackle the job satisfactorily, since failure would have meant the end of me.
At Leipzig I was conducted to one of the German private mess-rooms. It was evidently a sort of general mess for any N.C.O. or private, as it was filled with all kinds of different regiments, Saxons, Prussians, and Bavarians, each lounging at different tables. I spent nearly two hours there, and had a very interesting time—interesting from the point of view of German interior dissensions. The Bavarians scowled at the Prussians and Saxons, and would not answer even if spoken to by either of these. It chanced that there were three long tables in the rooms, only two of them occupied by the Saxons, and the other by the Bavarians. I was conducted to their table by my guard and some food ordered for me. Alittle later on several Prussians entered, looked at the table of the Saxons and Bavarians, saw plenty of vacant places, but discussed openly that they were not going to feed at the same table with those fellows. Seeing me sitting at the third table, they came over and saluted and asked permission to be seated, which was of course cordially given; one of them even addressed me, asking when I had been taken prisoner. One would have thought that, if they objected to the sight of Bavarians and Saxons, they would have fumed at seeing one of the hated Englanders in their own mess; but no.
We arrived at Bischofswerda just after midnight. The next day I found things much the same as before, except that the ration given by the Boches had greatly diminished during my absence, also the amount and variety of the food we had previously been able to buy. Eggs had completely disappeared, and the breadhad deteriorated very much. “Ha, ha!” I thought, “the Boches are feeling the pinch of the Mistress of the Seas,” so we cheerfully did without the things we had had. However, the parcels from home had been coming in well, in preparation for Christmas, so we did ourselves pretty well on the whole.
Within a few days of my return to Bischofswerda the cameras which we had purchased with the permission of the commandant were confiscated again. This was quite in keeping with everything else the Boches did. We would be allowed to buy things, and soon afterwards they would be taken away. In other words, as soon as they had got the money out of you, an order to confiscate would come from the commandant. He was very sorry, but his orders came from higher up! Such things as drawing-pens, fretwork, and small chip-carving tools, maps, spirit-stoves, and last, but not least, the camera. Of course the order never camefrom higher up, as I have certain information that cameras were allowed in other camps up till 1917.
The confiscation of articles legitimately bought in the canteen was only part of a system of petty measures practised against the prisoners. They soon discovered that, as far as the Britisher was concerned, nothing upset him so much or made him more disheartened than cutting off his baths. So for every little excuse possible, such as Russian, French, or British officers failing to give a smart enough salute to a German second lieutenant, the baths would be cut off for a day or two; or, failing that, football would be prohibited, or any sort of game the officers might be trying to amuse themselves with. Shorts would be confiscated. To do the latter a general search of the rooms was necessary. Of course, this always caused a certain amount of excitement, since everybody had something to hide—an electric torch, pieces of rope, money, and whatever the Boches might happen to be after at the time.
These searches took place periodically, about every six weeks, I should say. Sometimes everybody would be suddenly herded out of the buildings, and search made while all the prisoners were in the courtyard, in the hope of finding things forbidden carelessly left about. More often, when early morning parades came, the Boches would keep us outside and search the rooms whilst we were on parade; and very successful they were, but not generally with the British. Very few British officers were discovered with forbidden articles. A suit of mufti clothes or two was about all, and a few newspaper cuttings; but the Russians and sometimes the French would have whole escaping outfits caught in a single haul. Probably this was due to the fact that the camp was surrounded with spies, and as the Russians were all together, and not mixed up with the British as at Munden,the chances of betrayal from outside the British community werenil. We very often had French officers mixed in with us, but seldom any Russians. There is absolutely no harm in my stating here that the Russians were infested with spies, and they knew it and talked about it quite openly. One or two of them were marked out for destruction after the war.
There were numerous attempts to escape from the end of 1915 to the middle of 1916; but, curiously enough, when all the arrangements were complete, and the attempt ready to be made, the Boche guard would suddenly be doubled, or a Boche raid made on that particular room at the last moment, and probably all the paraphernalia caught. It happened too many times for coincidence.
One of the few bright spots of my time at Bischofswerda were the periodical visits of the Rev. Mr. Williams, who came onceevery three or four months to the camp, and held Divine service for us. I don’t think any of us were particularly religious, but Mr. Williams was always so bright and hopeful. One could not help catching a little of his cheerfulness, and I think I can speak for all of us in saying that we looked forward to his visits very much and felt the better for his coming. Also we sincerely hope that on the conclusion of peace the authorities at home will recognise and befittingly reward his services, since no man ever carried forward work under more difficult and disagreeable circumstances—slighted and distrusted by the German civilians, leading a life of complete isolation in the enemy’s country, exceedingly short of food. Indeed, on his latter visits to us, he usually had had no food for twenty-four hours. One day, when we got permission for him to take a meal with us, pending the arrival of the train to take him to another camp, he ate with much gusto some eggs from home,the first he had seen for many months. Notwithstanding all the obstacles put in his way, he still passes from camp to camp on this kindly pilgrimage.
I havenow reached a point in my narrative which dates us back to a few days before Christmas 1915, when we learned that the German canteen was to be done away with, from which hitherto we had been able to get so much food, in order to augment both our parcels from home and the greatly diminished Boche rations, and that hereafter we should be more or less dependent on our parcels. Some of my readers may find this quite an interesting point, as it indicates the period when the Boches really began to feel the shortage of foodstuffs. So many people continually ask me, “Are the Germans really as short of food as the papers say?” My reply to this is, “Yes, only a jolly sight harder up than the papers say.”
The old canteen was finally abolished with the advent of New Year’s Day 1916; and since the woman and her husband who had hitherto run the canteen also ran the whole show, they had a terrific amount of stuff to remove—all the kitchen utensils necessary to run a mess for three hundred and fifty officers. We had a little hand in the removal, as I will explain. Early in the morning of Christmas Day a Canadian officer came to me and asked me for the loan of my big basket before mentioned, also for some money, as he knew me to be in possession of a certain amount. His idea was to get into the basket, let himself be carried down by a couple of the British orderlies, and deposited outside the kitchen door with some dozens of other packages, amongst them a couple of baskets of similar type full of linen and plates. Accordingly we got him into the basket, called up the orderlies,and gave them orders where to deposit the baskets. All went well; the orderlies carrying the basket passed the sentries without trouble, since most of the orderlies had been detailed to help the canteen people remove their stuff. A couple of large pantechnicons were standing at the guard-room gate, being rapidly filled with the packages, when my basket’s turn came. It was evidently too heavy, and unfortunately a Boche orderly came out of the kitchen that moment and offered to give a hand. Just as he was about to lift it the Canadian officer wriggled or made some movement. Anyway, the Boche suggested looking inside in case of a cat or something being there, though he had absolutely no suspicion of a prisoner whatever. Proceeding to the kitchen to fetch the key, as it was padlocked, they discovered that the basket did not belong to the canteen people at all. Immediately they started to cut it open, and inside of course they discovered the “Jack-in-the-box,” who rose up with a wild yell. The Boches nearly died from heart failure.
However, they collared him and all his paraphernalia, also the money, which he was not quick enough to get rid of. He was taken to the commandant in the usual fashion, and stripped naked, whilst they even ripped up the seams of his tunic in their frantic efforts to discover some forbidden article or evidence against another person, as accessary before the fact.
As his trial, and incidentally mine, proceeded, it was clearly evident that the Boches suspected that we had been helped by the guard or some German in the camp. There was absolutely no evidence to prove this, and no reason for their suspicions whatever, but the Boche authorities were most positive about it, so much so that the wretched canteen people were arrested the day after their departure, and shoved in a little jail in Dresden, pending the examination of the court-martial. We chuckled over this, since the canteen peoplewere absolutely innocent, and had grown rich at our expense in the past. Shortly after the first inquiry the basket was traced to me, and then the fun started. The commandant insisted that I had given the Canadian the basket for the purpose of escape. I said I hadn’t, that I had been merely asked for the loan of the basket, and that as I was not in need of it at the time I had naturally complied, and that British officers were not in the habit of asking their friends what they wanted to do with articles which were lent to them.
After this, for a day or two, the affair, in so far as I was concerned, blew over. Of course the Canadian officer was confined to cells. One day I was again called up, and informed that I had not only given the basket but also five hundred marks to the Canadian. Of course I asked them to prove it; then they produced a written statement from the Canadian, acknowledging that I had givenhim the five hundred marks, after which it was no longer any use denying the fact. They extracted this information by telling the Canadian that the officer who had given him the basket had also owned up to giving him five hundred marks. Their object was to convict the Canadian of the serious charge of bribing the guards, which was being brought against him. Like an idiot, he fell into the trap, and so we both got caught.
In a few days the members of the court-martial arrived—a full colonel, equal to a brigadier with us, a major, and a captain—and a court of inquiry was held forthwith, when I was accused of having bought the basket a few weeks before in the canteen. This being so, it was alleged I purchased it for the purpose of escaping or aiding others to do so, but I was told that, if I would make a clean breast of the affair, they would try to make my punishment as light as possible. Very oily they tried to be; but I was not going to be taken inby soft words. Then I was accused of providing the money. Both the money and the basket I explained satisfactorily; but the verdict was that, seeing I was incapable of behaving myself in a good camp, I should be sent away for punishment. “Now,” I said, “I will just show you to what extent you Germans are capable of miscarrying justice. I did not buy that basket three weeks ago, nor did I buy it in the canteen,” at which a general smile passed round the court, and the canteen record-book was brought forth, showing the date, etc., when I bought the basket. The accusation of falsehood was then added to the list of my other crimes. I then started to prove that I purchased the basket over three months ago at the camp at Clausthal. So convincing was my evidence that the court closed, pending inquiry from Clausthal. The report which came back endorced my statement. In the end they could bring nothing tangible against me except the money, which Iexplained by showing them a cheque written on the 1st of January 1916 from the Canadian officer in exchange for five hundred marks in money, which, as I explained, I had no use for myself. Finding some one who had, I naturally exchanged it for a cheque which I could send home. Thus in so far as I was concerned the affair blew over. The Canadian was, however, removed from Bischofswerda, and is now in Switzerland, having been sent there owing to ill health, probably brought about by bad conditions in the camp he was sent to. I may mention that there was another Canadian officer involved in this little episode, but since he is still a prisoner it would be wise to say nothing of his share in the matter.
Perhaps it is worth while mentioning that we tried our best to make New Year’s Day a cheery one, and almost succeeded in making ourselves believe we were having a good time. Since the canteen had been broken up each room cooked and preparedits own dinner, so between Christmas puddings from home and all sorts of luxuries we certainly had a good feed. We had also been able to get permission to buy a little wine—awful stuff, but heady. The result was that a little pent-up energy was let loose in breaking each other’s beds. The beds at Bischofswerda were roughly constructed wooden ones, with wooden bed-slats, on which rested a straw palliasse. By taking a run and jump and landing immediately on top of the mattress, the whole thing broke with a beautiful rending crash, sweet music to the ears of a prisoner whose energies and spirits have always to be under constant restraint. Of course there was the devil to pay with the Boches, and the bill rendered by them on the following morning was terrific. All sorts of new rules and regulations came out with regard to the beds, such as “It is forbidden to sit or take exercise on the beds.” This was quite amusing, since there were not enoughchairs to go round, so I presume we were supposed to recline on the floor. Also football was prohibited for a few days, and there were sundry otherstrafes. Personally I was not able to join in the bed-breaking competition, but to see others venting their feelings was the next best thing.
The New Year, 1916, was welcomed by us all as a joyous advent, since we felt quite sure in our own minds that victory must crown our arms before the year was out, and that we should once more be able to call our souls our own. What optimistic feelings we had when, as week after week went by, the German food rations became shorter and less wholesome. Seeing that we could no longer buy food from the canteen, we thought the end must be in sight.
We were now almost entirely dependent on our parcels from home. Should they have been lost or delayed in the post things would have gone very badly withus. Fortunately our parcels arrived both frequently and regularly. The same surprised us very much, seeing that we had had many opportunities of discovering that the Boches themselves were getting perilously hard up for food of every kind. We had expected that a great number would have been either stolen or rifled. In a few cases there were a few things extracted, but not as a general rule, which speaks well for the German postal officials.
I have already referred to the Boche lieutenant who acted as official interpreter to the French and British, and of how he tried to make our conditions harder to bear than they were already. It is difficult to lay a direct and plausible charge against this swine, but every one can easily understand that in a life such as ours it was the little things which preyed upon the mind, the petty insults and ill-treatment. The very way this man Harbe said “Good morning” was an insult. Some of us used to receive the periodicalcalledThe Play, which everybody is acquainted with. Harbe would confiscate this from all parcels, on the ground that the morals of the British and French officers were so bad that the German authorities felt it their duty to supervise the literature in the cause ofKultur. Harbe would carefully explain this to our faces, and instead of giving him one in the eye for his insolence we had to stand and grind our teeth. Such a speech from a German second lieutenant to a British or French senior officer was of course disgraceful. On several occasions when French officers were writing both to their wives and lady friends he interchanged the envelopes. I don’t suppose he caused any trouble, but it describes the type of man who more or less ruled our lives at Bischofswerda, a camp which was in most respects quite a good one.
With regard to parcels from home containing books, Harbe would, as I said before, take months to censor them, andthen would frequently withhold even such works as Dickens or other harmless books. When official searches took place, this beast made offensive comments on the photographs of one’s relations; and when large parcels came from home of foodstuffs, he would make objection to the amount and the quality of food sent.
“Why, chicken and tongue, that is a luxury, and prisoners are not allowed luxuries. You may have it this time, but you must not send for any more luxuries, or they will be confiscated. You spend too much money on food. Look at me; I live on the ration I receive: why can’t you?”
“Well, you see, we have not been brought up that way,” was my reply to this question.
Of course I was had up before the commandant for impertinent replies, but on explaining that I had only been defending myself against an attack by Harbe on the amount and quality of foodstuffs sentfrom home the commandant dismissed me, and I rather think it was Harbe who got told off. He once said that a prisoner of war was a man in disgrace, who had no rights, and who should not be allowed to amuse himself in any way. He said he ought to be made to feel the shame of his position!
InMarch a Canadian doctor recently taken prisoner joined us at Bischofswerda, and although the Hague Convention does not allow doctors to be detained prisoners for any length of time, this Canadian was still there when I left in October, some seven months later. However, as far as we were concerned he was a great comfort, since we got some first-hand news as to recent events, and also some valuable medical attention and advice. His diagnosis of my case turned out to be absolutely correct,viz. that my trouble was caused by splinters of the ribs lodged in the right lung; also, owing to the long period it had been left unattended to, then a matter of a year and a half, a chronicpleurotic state had set in. The Canadian doctor had an interview with the German doctor over my case, but the German refused to find anything wrong, though he said that, should the Swiss Commission come, he would put me up for examination before them.
During the last week of May 1916 we were notified that a visit from the Swiss Commission was shortly expected, in order to collect certain officers for transfer to Switzerland. A list of those whose wounds were bad enough to allow of inspection by the commission was taken, although all officers suffering from other complaints were actually inspected by the Swiss Commission on its arrival. Great excitement reigned on the day appointed for the visit, which was fated in the end to bring very little consolation. With the exception of one officer, who had been hit in the hand, which he had more or less lost the use of, no other officer was placed on the possible list except myself.
At first the Swiss seemed desirous of taking me, but the German doctors would not hear of it. The outcome of the discussion between them was a compromise, the Swiss insisting that I should undergo a proper examination with Röntgen rays, in order to decide if it was a splinter or something else that caused the trouble. The German doctors said it was quite unnecessary, that I was quite sound, but that, if after examination any sort of operation were necessary, it would have to take place in Germany. The Canadian doctor already mentioned gleaned from a private chat with the Swiss that the reason the Germans refused to let me go was that they were afraid of the questions which would be inevitably asked in Switzerland as to why they had left my lung unattended for the period of a year and a half, without even troubling to have a proper diagnosis made.
So ended the first visit of the Swiss Commission. Very nearly three weekselapsed before my orders came for the medical examination, which took place at a town called Bautzen, about twenty-eight miles from Bischofswerda. It is a very large military depot, and contains a number of hospitals. To one of them myself and a Canadian officer who came with me were conducted. For some time we sat in the exercise-ground of the hospital, where a number of German wounded soldiers were sitting or walking about. We apparently caused a great deal of interest, but no insult or objectionable looks were given us—in fact, rather the opposite. It is a curious psychological fact that, with regard to those Boches who have actually fought in the front line, they seem to look upon their enemies with far greater respect, which I suppose, after all, is natural, since they have actually seen and felt the magnificent fighting qualities of our troops, and are therefore sceptically inclined towards the articles in their newspapers which continually belittle the strength of our arms. On the other hand, those who are on lines of communication, etc., believe the newspapers, having had no practical experience of their own to balance their reasoning; and, as typical of the Boche character all round, when they feel themselves to be winning or up against a weaker force than their own, they are bullies of the worst possible character.
With regard to the events which took place at the hospital at Bautzen, after seeing the specialists, immediate arrangements were made for an X-ray examination. The result of this showed our Canadian doctor to be correct. The German specialist then asked me why this had not been attended to before, and why no operation had been made. He said, “In my opinion it must be done at once; at the same time I must warn you that, owing to the length of time which has been allowed to elapse, a considerable growth has naturally taken place overthe affected area.” He further said that the operation now would be a very dangerous one, and that even were it successful he could not guarantee that I would be any better, and that he would have to ask me to decide there and then if I would undergo it or not. On inquiring as to the probable result if I should not feel inclined to take the risk, he replied, “You may not get any worse, but I shall be surprised if you don’t, and I consider that tuberculosis will probably set in, if it hasn’t done so already.”
This opinion decided things for me, so I made a statement in writing that the operation was done by my own wish and at my own risk, since otherwise they would do nothing.
After a further examination my friend and I returned by train to Bischofswerda. About a week later the doctor called me down and explained that the operation was a very dangerous one, and that there would be still time for me tocry off; the commandant did the same a few days later; but the specialist’s threat of tuberculosis decided me absolutely, as there was no possible alternative. If I had the disease, I was done for; if it came through lack of an operation, I was done for; so the only thing to do was to trust to luck. Nearly another month passed before my final orders to go to hospital at Königstein came through, and on the day they arrived I was told to be prepared to go off in three days’ time, according to instructions from Berlin.
On the night before I was to have proceeded to the hospital orders came to the commandant that I was to go to the reserve hospital at Dresden instead of Königstein, where I eventually went. But before leaving I wrote two letters, which I gave to one of my brother officers. These two letters contained an exact account of the treatment, or rather the lack of treatment, of my wound, which was to be delivered only in case of theoperation proving fatal. One was addressed to the American Ambassador and the other to my mother.
The journey to Dresden from Bischofswerda was more or less uneventful, with the exception that a cab was actually arranged for in order to convey me and the guard to the station, which of course I had to pay for, and for my luggage to Dresden, as, having no guarantee that I would not be starved at the hospital, I had taken my stock of tinned food with me, being too old a prisoner to be caught napping in that respect. The cab and transport cost me about thirty shillings, although Dresden is not much over twenty miles away.
On this journey to Dresden, and in passing through it on the way to the hospital, I had some excellent opportunities of gauging the aspect of the populace. Sour looks met me everywhere, but no insults. On the whole the people looked overworked and underfed,going about their duties in a morose sort of doggedness. Two of the main squares in Dresden were packed with recruits under training—boys of not more than sixteen or seventeen years, and men who looked over fifty, most of them being undersized and weedy.
The hospital was crammed with wounded German soldiers and a few convalescent officers. It turned out to be an enormous place, with most excellent grounds, bordering the Königsvald, where a regimental band played three times a week. A clean room was allotted to me in one of the wards, and it was a great relief to find that I was to have a private one to myself.
On the morning after my arrival a well-known German specialist visited me in my room, and made a thorough examination of my chest. That afternoon a young German convalescent officer was detailed to take me out for a short walk, which we took in the Königsvald, a very beautifulwoodland glen, full of delightful bubbling springs and nice green glades, most refreshing to a prisoner’s eyes. The officer was very courteous and sympathetic. That evening, on my return from the walk, I was again visited by the specialist, who said he was glad to be able to inform me that I was not tubercular, as he had thought I was after his examination that morning; also he explained that, if I would place myself in his hands, he would guarantee that the operation would be performed without any great danger. By this he meant that in my present state an anæsthetic was not advisable, and that if I would consent to undergo it without he would guarantee everything would be all right. On the following morning the operation took place, and it was most beautifully and satisfactorily done. I will not dwell upon my own feelings during the ordeal, since it does not take a vivid imagination to picture them, when one takes into consideration a big operationlike this being performed without an anæsthetic.
My treatment generally in hospital in Dresden was of the very best. I could not have been treated better had I been at home, either in the matter of attention or in food. My own nurse was especially attentive, and I shall be eternally grateful to her. This happy state of affairs, however, underwent an extraordinary change on the day Rumania entered the war, when, whilst my nurse remained staunch, the matron of the ward, who had hitherto been quite friendly, came to my room, shook her fist in my face, called me a Schweinhund Englander, cursed the English and everything appertaining to them, and gave orders that I should be cut off all my invalid food and be given the soldiers’ rations instead. This was done.
One incident I forgot to mention before, which shows up the extraordinary workings of the Boche mind. In order to have this special operation performed it had beennecessary to give my parole in writing, stating that I would not attempt to escape from the time I left the prison for the hospital to the time I returned from the hospital to the prisoners’ camp. Permission to give this parole under the existing circumstances was obtained by me from the senior British officer at Bischofswerda. However, on going to the hospital, I discovered a sentry posted at the door of my room and another outside the window. Of course I immediately complained to the commandant of the hospital that I had given my parole and naturally felt exceedingly insulted at finding two sentries guarding me. He smiled and said the order came from higher up and that he could do nothing.
These two sentries remained on guard until I left the hospital, which is most humorous. Imagine placing two sentries to guard a man lying between life and death with an enormous incision in his chest, in order to prevent him escaping shouldhe break his parole! I shouldonlyhave had to walk four hundred and fifty miles in order to escape—this for one who had not even the strength to feed himself. What must the word of a German officer be worth, if he accepts another man’s parole and then takes steps to guard against its being broken?
Very gradually I began to get strong, and as soon as I could sit up in a chair I was removed from the hospital and sent back to Bischofswerda, very glad to see all my old friends again. But my removal took place too soon, and the jolting of the carriage so upset me that I was again taken ill and suffered a very considerable relapse, being confined to bed in the hospital-room at Bischofswerda. Here I stayed for over a month, during which time many little incidents of interest befell me. For instance, it appears that, contrary to all Boche rules and regulations, my parcels had been stopped and opened without any British officer being present,and, needless to say, two parcels containing a thousand marks each had been caught. Lieutenant Harbe paid me a visit in the hospital-room, sent everybody out, shut the windows, and started to bully me, although he knew I was very weak at the time. He also insulted me in every possible way. After he went I had a high temperature, and the next day reported him to the commandant.
Some days after this Mr. Jackson, the assistant of the American Ambassador, came. He paid me a visit in the hospital, and heard my tale of woe against Harbe, which he carried to the commandant, asking him to get rid of Harbe, since, during the whole period that he had been at Bischofswerda, he had deliberately tried and insulted officers to such an extent that it was difficult for them to hold themselves in check. He was therefore a very dangerous person to have in the camp, since, had any of them struck him, as he deserved, it would have been a mostserious offence. However, nothing came of this, except that Harbe was forbidden to hold conversation with me unless in the presence of another officer.
After being a month in the hospital-room, I was removed to a small room by myself on the first floor, where I rapidly began to regain strength, being able to walk across the room in the first few days of October. The day before I was removed from the hospital two British officers made a very fine attempt to escape, one obtaining civilian clothes through me, the other having made a German private’s uniform. The two of them passed out of the camp disguised as the tailor who used to visit us from the town and his guard in the German uniform. They got quite clear of the camp, when an officer passing them on the road a few yards outside the camp reported the soldier to the guard-room as going down town without side arms, meaning the bayonet; and thus the two of them were caught. Theywere immediately court-martialled and put into cells.
On the 8th of October Harbe and three sentries stalked into my room, where I was still in bed, and informed me that I was going to be sent to a punishment camp, that all my things would now be packed in his presence, and that at four o’clock on the following morning I should leave for the new camp. I explained that I could hardly walk, and I certainly could not pack, so he started throwing my things into my two boxes. On this I sent for my great pal, who kindly came and packed everything for me, and also insisted on me taking all my food, which Harbe objected to. However, my friend persisted; and well indeed was it that he did so, since both myself and others would probably have starved had I not taken some food with me.
On the following day I got up from bed with a certain amount of effort. Proceeding to the ground floor, where anofficer and guard were waiting to escort us, I found that the officer who had attempted to escape disguised as the tailor was accompanying me to the new camp. We set off in a cab to the station, and after a very trying and tiring journey reached Ingolstadt, in Bavaria, at 9.30 the same night, so that we were travelling for seventeen hours. To me, who had not been out of bed for ten weeks, excepting for my journey from Dresden to Bischofswerda, and after my very serious operation, the fatigue of the journey can well be imagined. On the top of this the officer in charge, who had been quite civil and courteous on the way, left us at the station, and we were forced to walk from the station to one of the German soldiers’ rest-camps, not being able to reach the prison at Ingolstadt that night. It was about six kilometres to this rest-camp, and the walk very nearly finished me. At the same time I had a heavy bag with me, which I should have had tocarry also, had not my comrade who came with me done so. Since he was a major, it was not a very pleasant position for me; and had he not been such a splendid chap, I should have insisted on carrying it myself, an effort which would most certainly have been disastrous.
On arriving at the rest-camp, after having been forced to tramp in the centre of a muddy road, since prisoners were considered too despicable to be allowed to walk on the footpath, we found a filthy, dirty wooden building, filled with the dirtiest and most bedraggled-looking Boche soldiers I ever saw. At the end of this building was a small room, partitioned off, into which we were thrust and locked in for the night. I have seen some filthy places, but this certainly took the cake. Four beds and a table was all the furniture it could boast—the beds so close together as to be touching each other, the blankets and sheets black with dirt and grease. Fortunately our previousexperience had taught us the value of Keating’s Powder, some of which we had with us, and we liberally sprinkled the whole room, bedclothes and all. To our surprise, although it was so late, a large bowl of quite good bean soup was sent to us, for which we were extremely thankful.
After we had settled for the night, three Russian officers joined us, so that we now closely resembled the old comparison of sardines in a box. But although our surroundings were so uncomfortable, I was too done up to take much notice of anything, and was thankful to crawl into bed. The following morning at 9 a.m. quite a decent breakfast was brought to us, for which, as usual, we had to pay; but still we got it, which was the main thing, and shortly afterwards were marched to a small station about half a mile away, from where we took train to Ingolstadt Fort station. On arrival there a further walk of about half a mile brought us tothe fortress of Ingolstadt. As we passed over the moat into the fortress, a nasty cold feeling crept down my spine, and the words flashed across my mind, “Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.”
I willnow refer, if I may, to one or two little notes which I made on the journey down from Saxony. In the first place, I never saw a single male porter at any station. The guards on trains were all women; and when the train ran slowly through any sort of farmed land, we saw groups of old men and little children doing some sort of work in the fields, although it was November, and one would think there was not very much to be done. I never saw a single male between the ages of fourteen and fifty-five either in the streets or towns, on the farms or elsewhere. It was as if Germany had been absolutely depopulated of males betweenthose ages. What they have done with their unfits goodness knows.
In order to pass into the fortress of Ingolstadt it was first necessary to enter by the guard-house gate that bordered the road, and which was composed of sheet iron. From there forty yards brought you to a large iron grid, protecting the approach to the bridge passing over the moat. This grid, as well as the guard-house gate, was kept locked and guarded night and day. On being passed through the grid and over the moat, the main entrance to the fortress was approached over a paved causeway. The gate consisted of a pair of massive steel doors, folding in the middle, and built into the stonework of the lower works. These stoneworks were protected from artillery fire by large earthworks, surmounting to a great height above them, set out in battlements and caponiers, with artillery platforms. On entering the fortress we found ourselves in one of the darkest,dampest, and most forbidding-looking places I was ever in, the damp and darkness being caused by the earthworks overhead, which rose to a height of thirty-five feet from the roof of the stoneworks. The whole interior was afterwards discovered to be filthy in the extreme. Opposite is a plan of the fortress looking down through the earthworks.
On entering these gloomy portals, we were immediately conducted to the commandant’s quarters, which were situated next to the entrance. Here we were searched, but nothing of consequence was discovered. My first impression of the commandant was a good one. It was not long before I discovered it to be erroneous, as will be seen hereafter.
After our examination we were led to our cell, which was to be my home for seven months. It did not look inviting. A general description of the fortress is necessary, in order that the reader may understand subsequent events. With thehelp of the plan this should not be very difficult.