The community is run upon the most rigid business-like lines. Nothing is given away at Ruhleben. This explains how we have built up such a wealthy camp treasury. The Camp Authorities govern the concerts, theatrical and vaudeville entertainments, troupes, band, newspapers, programmes—in short everything. Individual enterprise has but a negligible scope in Ruhleben. The initial outlays have admittedly been heavy, but the receipts have been still larger, so that there must be a big balance somewhere. It has not all been spent, and the question arises as to what will be done with the accumulated funds.
To convey some idea of the possible and profitable sources of income it is only necessary to explain the system of handling the prisoners' parcels. These are sorted in a large building. I learned that a parcel was waiting for me by perusing the notice-board. I presented myself at the office window to receive a ticket which I exchanged for the parcel, the ticket serving as a receipt for due delivery. But the ticket cost me one penny! Seeing that the average number of parcels cleared every day is 3,000, it will be seen that the sale of the necessary tickets alone yields roughly £12 per day or over £4,000 a year. Recently the price of the ticket has been reduced fifty per cent., but even at one halfpenny the annual income exceeds £2,000. This one branch of business must show a handsome profit, and there are scores of other prosperous money-yielding propositions in practice in the camp.
No matter how spendthrift the treasury may be the accumulated funds must now represent an imposing figure, because, with only one or two exceptions, everything is run at a profit. Will the camp treasury carry the precepts of communal trading to the logical conclusion? Will it distribute the accumulated funds among the prisoners, pro rata according to the term of imprisonment, at the end of the war? If that is done it will serve as some compensation for the break-up of homes in Britain and other countries which has taken place, because those who were left behind were deprived—through no fault of aught but the German authorities and their ridiculous regulations—of their wage-earners.
As the result of frequent representations the German authorities permitted us to inaugurate our civil police force for the maintenance of law and order throughout the camp. After this force came into being and had proved satisfactory, the military guards were withdrawn, and we were encircled only by the cordon of sentries outside. We suffered no military interference whatever. Theforce, of which I became a member, numbered forty all told. Our badge of office was an armlet—blue and white bands similar to that worn by the British constabulary, and carried upon the left wrist over our private clothes—together with a button inscribed "Police. Ruhleben Camp." The selection of the police force was carried out upon extremely rigorous lines to ensure that only the most capable men were secured for this exacting duty. We patrolled the camp night and day, the duty under the former conditions being two hours, at the conclusion of which we reported ourselves to the police station, and then proceeded to our barracks to rest, waking up our successor on the way, who thereupon went on duty.
All things considered the camp was extremely well-behaved, the British naturally being amenable to discipline. One or two thefts occurred, the offenders, when caught, being handed over to the German authorities to receive punishment. At times there were manifestations of rowdiness, but they were speedily and readily quelled. The police required to be unconscionably patient, tactful, and sympathetic, because we were all chafing under restraint, and our nerves were strained, while tempers were hasty. Indeed, the German authorities marvelled at the manner and the ease with which we kept the camp upon its best behaviour, and I think we taught them many valuable lessons concerning the enforcement of law and order without the parade of any force or badgering, judging from the assiduity with which they studied our methods. Even the "drunks"—and they were not strangers to Ruhleben, despite the fact that alcoholic liquor was religiously taboo, the liquor being smuggled in and paid heavily for, a bottle of Red Seal costing fifteen shillings—never gave us the slightest cause for anxiety.
One day there was a serious explosion of discontent. We had been served at our mid-day meal with a basin of evil-looking skilly. We took it back, and protested that we ought not to be served with prison fare.
"Skilly?" repeated the cook. "That isn't skilly. It's Quaker Oats."
"'Strewth!" yapped a sailor, "That's the bloomin' funniest Quaker Oats I've tasted. Quaker Oats will keep you alive, but that bloomin' muck 'd poison a rat!" saying which he disdainfully emptied the noisome contents of his basin upon the ground.
We were told we should get nothing else, which infuriated us. We gathered round the cook-house, and the discontented, grumbling sailors and fishermen, unable to make any impression by word of mouth, commenced to bombard the kitchen with bricks, stones, and clods of earth. The fusillade grew furious, and the cat-calls vociferous.
The turmoil had been raging for some time when a mounted officer dashed up. Securing silence he ordered us all into barracks. There was an ominous growl. Then he told us he had brought a battalion of soldiers and a machine gun section from Spandau, and if we did not disperse in five minutes he would fire on us.
We looked round, thinking he was bluffing, but there, sure enough, were the soldiers with their rifles ready, and we discovered afterwards that the machine guns had been brought up to the gates ready for use at a moment's notice. We shuffled for a few minutes, frowning, glowering, mumbling, cursing and swearing, but as the Germans always mean what they say, we sullenly moved off as ordered. Still the protest bore fruit; no further attempts were made to serve us with that fare.
The highways of the camp were in a deplorable condition. They were merely tracks trodden down by our feet and carts, heavily rutted, uneven, and either a slough of mud and water, or a desert of dust, according to the weather. We persistently urged the German authorities to improve these roads, but they turned a deaf ear to all our entreaties.
At last the CampAuthorities decided to carry out the work themselves. There was a call for labourers, who were promised a steady wage of five shillings per week. Although enrolled in the first instance to build roads, this force was afterwards kept on as a working gang to carry out any jobs which became necessary. These men laid out and built an excellent road system, following the well-accepted British lines with a high camber and a hard surface so that the water could run into the gutters.
These roads aroused intense interest among our captors. They used to come in and follow the men at work, studying the method of building up the fabric, and upon its completion they inspected and subjected it to tests. A little later they coolly sent in a request to the road-builders to go outside to continue urgent work of a similar character. However, investigation revealed the disconcerting fact that these men were required to take the places of those Germans generally associated with this task, who had been called up for service at the front. Needless to say the suggestion met with a unanimous and determined refusal.
As time went on our conditions became worse. Bread became unobtainable at almost any price. Pathetic advertisements commenced to steal upon the notice-board, some of which I vividly remember. One in particular revealed a poignant story of silent suffering. It ran "Good Swan Fountain Pen. Will exchange for loaf of bread." Yet it was only typical of scores of others couched in a similar vein. All sorts of things were offered in exchange for food. Our treasury redoubled its efforts, but food could not be got even at famine prices. This was early in March, 1915, so that the country was speedily being compelled to concede the strangling force of the British blockade.
One morning we were paraded, and every man was ordered to produce any bread he might have in his possession. Some of us had been storing the official rations against the rainy day which we felt must come sooner or later. Thishad to be surrendered. The guards also carried out a thorough search to assure themselves that none had been left behind or concealed under beds. When the bread had been collected the authorities calmly cut it up and served us with a small piece each—that is they gave us back a portion of what was already our property, and which we had not eaten merely because we had been making ourselves content with purchases from the canteens.
This proceeding brought home to us the vivid prospect of being reduced to a perilous position within a very short time. So in our letters home we emphasised the need to send us bread and other food-stuffs. As about three weeks elapsed before we received a loaf after it had been dispatched, we kept it another week, then soaked it in water and took it to the cook-house to be re-baked, for which we were charged one penny.
Some of the unfortunate members of the party had no bread come from home. But with true camaraderie those prisoners who were in the land of plenty invariably divided their prizes, so that one and all were reduced to a common level. In this way considerable misery and discontent were averted. Of course, when stocks ran out, we had to revert to the official rations. Here and there would be found a few hard-hearted and unsympathetic gluttons. They would never share a single thing with a comrade. A prisoner of this type would sit down to a gorgeous feast upon dainties sent from home, heedless of the envious and wistful glances of his colleagues who were sitting around him at the table with nothing beyond the black bread and the acorn coffee. He would never even proffer a spoonful of jam which would have enabled the revolting black bread to be swallowed with greater relish.
There is one prisoner of this type whom I particularly recall. He had plenty of money in his pockets, and was the lucky recipient of many bulky hampers at regular intervals. Yet he never shared a crust with a less fortunatechum. But this individual did not refuse the opportunity to trade upon the hospitality of a fellow-prisoner when he himself was in a tight place. He became the most detested man in the camp, and to this day, with the rest of his selfish ilk, he suffers a rigid boycott, and at the same time is the target of every practical joke which his colleagues can devise. To quote the vernacular, we had "Somejokes with him," and often stung him to fury, when we would laugh mercilessly at his discomfiture.
At the time I left the camp the outlook had assumed a very black aspect, and now we hear things have reached a climax. Money is worse than useless now because it can purchase nothing. The prisoners are reduced to subsist upon what meagre rations the authorities choose to dole out to them, and essentially upon what they receive from home. Starvation confronts our compatriots suffering durance vile in Ruhleben. The dawn of each succeeding day is coming to be dreaded with a fear which baffles description because it is unfathomable.
The aimless life, such as it was generally pursued in Ruhleben Camp, became exceedingly distasteful to me. It conduced to brooding and moping over things at home, to fretting and becoming anxious as to how one's wife and family were faring? While recreation offered a certain amount of distraction, it speedily lost its novelty and began to pall. There were many of us who were by no means sufficiently flush in pocket to indulge wildly in amusements, and yet money was absolutely indispensable, because with the sinews of war we were able to secure supplementary food from the canteen.
Some of the methods which were practised to improve the shining hour were distinctly novel. There was a young Cockney who, upon his return home, will undoubtedly blossom into a money-making genius, that is if his achievements in Ruhleben offer any reliable index to his proclivities. He would gather a party of seventy or eighty prisoners round him. Then, producing a five-mark piece, he would offer to raffle it at ten pfennigs—one penny—apiece. The possibility of picking up five shillings for a penny made an irresistibly fascinating appeal. It struck the traditional sporting chord of the British character and a shower of pennies burst forth. The deal was soon completed, and everyone was content with the result. Someone bought the five-shillingpiece for the nimble penny, while the Cockney chuckled with delight because he had raked in some seven shillings or so for his five mark piece!
When I decided to experiment in commerce I was in some doubt as to what would offer the most promising line. After due reflection I decided to start as a launderer, specialising in washing shirts at ten pfennigs, or one penny, apiece. A shirt dresser was certainly in request because the majority of the prisoners, possessing only a severely limited stock, were compelled to wear the one garment continuously for several weeks. At the end of that time it was generally discarded once and for all. But the shirts I found to be extremely soiled, and demanded such hard and prolonged scrubbing, in which operation an unconscionably large amount of soap was consumed, that I found the enterprise to be absolutely unprofitable, while I received little else than a stiff, sore back and soft hands. So this first venture, after bringing in a few hard-earned shillings, was abandoned.
Then I undertook to wash up the table utensils, charging a party twopence per meal. This would have brought me greater reward had I adhered to my original intention. But one day the member of a party genially suggested, "We'll toss for it! Twopence or nothing!" I accepted the offer good-humouredly and—lost! By accepting this sporting recommendation I unfortunately established a ruinous precedent. The practice became general, and I, having a wretched run of bad luck, found that, all things considered, it would be better for my hands and pocket if I were to look farther afield for some other enterprise.
My third attempt to woo Fortune was to set myself up as a dealer in cast-off boots and shoes, my idea being to buy, sell and exchange. To my chagrin I speedily discovered that this calling demanded unlimited capital, because it was easier to buy than to sell or to exchange. Seeing that the average price I was prepared to pay was one shilling per pair, and the state of excruciating depressionwhich prevailed in this field, I conjured visions of immense stocks of second-hand boots, representing a heavy investment of capital, which would lie idle for an indefinite period. So I retired discreetly from the second-hand boot and shoe trade to seek more promising pastures.
While pondering over the situation a happy idea struck me. In my younger days I had practised engraving, intending to adopt it as a trade. I devoted some six years to the craft and had achieved a measure of success and dexterity. Thereupon I decided to launch out in this direction. Although I felt that my hand had lost some of its cunning through lack of practice—I had not touched an engraving tool for about thirteen years—I decided to take the risk, feeling sure that it would soon return when I settled down to the fascinating work in grim earnest.
I confided my intention to one or two of my friends, but the majority, except my bosom chum K——, who is a far-seeing business man, with their innate shrewdness, wanted to know where I was going to get any custom in such a place as Ruhleben Camp. I explained that my idea was to engrave watches, coins, studs links, indeed any article which the prisoners possessed, thus converting them into interesting souvenirs of their sojourn in a German prisoners' camp during the Great War. But with the exception of K—— they declined to see eye to eye with me. Still I was not to be dissuaded, and consequently decided to commence operations upon my own initiative.
I was in a quandary. I had not sufficient capital to buy the necessary tools. However, K——, as usual, came to my assistance by financing me to the extent of seven-and-sixpence! This money I laid out upon tools, Now I was confronted with another problem. How was I to keep the tools in the necessary sharpened condition. The only stone I could borrow was quite useless for engraving tools, while cuttingplays such havoc with the edges of the tools as to demand frequent recourse to sharpening operations. However this obstacle did not daunt me. I found that with a sufficient expenditure of energy I could get a passably sharp edge for my purpose by grinding the tools on the floor and finishing them off upon a razor strop which I borrowed.
Now I had to seek for eligible premises. I sauntered round the camp to alight upon a tiny vacant building. As it appeared to have no owner, and was fulfilling no useful purpose I entered into possession. Directly I had installed myself the authorities came along and unceremoniously ejected me, bag and baggage. As soon as their backs were turned I re-entered into occupation. I was thrown out a second time, but still as resolutely determined as ever to continue my project I cast around and ultimately found an empty kiosk, standing forlorn and neglected, a silent memory of the brisk racing days at Ruhleben in pre-war times. I installed myself therein, not caring two straws whether the authorities endeavoured to turn me out or not. They would have to smash the place over my head before they evicted me this time, but they were scarcely likely to proceed to such extreme measures seeing that they would have had to break up their own property.
Numerous jealous individuals attempted to eject me time after time but I sat tight. I remember one tender and amiable official who endeavoured to convince me that the kiosk and other similar buildings were under his charge, and that he was responsible for them. As he narrated the situation I observed that he kept the open palm of his hand extended before me. When he found this broad hint to be of no avail he ordered me out of the building. Turning to him I suggested, in as suave a voice as I could command, that he should accompany me to the "Wachter" to ascertain the extent of his responsibilities and to have the matter thrashed out once and for all. Needless to say he declined this invitation, protesting that it was unnecessary. Heinvited me to retain occupation of the kiosk. My bluff completely outwitted the official in question, while I achieved my end for once without recourse to bribery and corruption of the official Teuton mind.
Several subsequent attempts were made to coax me out of my tenancy, but I may say that in sticking to the building I played the Germans at their own game. When the guard came up and authoritatively demanded by what manner of right or permission I had taken possession of the kiosk I politely referred him to a certain officer in the camp. When the latter, upon receiving the complaint, interrogated me in a similar vein, I referred him to another official. When this third individual appeared upon the scene I switched him off to another officer. By playing off the officials one against the other in this manner I precipitated such a tangle among them that no single official could say whether he had or had not given me permission. While these tactics were being pursued I was gaining the valuable time I desired, and took the opportunity to entrench myself firmly in my position. The outcome was that when finally the matter had been trotted through the Ruhleben German Circumlocution Office, and my eviction was officially sealed, I warded off the fate by announcing that I was overwhelmed with engraving orders for the military officers of the camp. It was a desperate bluff, but it succeeded. Officialdom apparently decided that I was better left alone, so I suffered no further molestation.
The whole of the night before opening my engraving business I sat up writing flaring signs and tickets to advertise my intentions far and wide, and soliciting the favour of orders which under my hand would convert this or that object into a priceless souvenir of our novel experience. I also canvassed the camp to explain my ideas, and, as I expected, orders commenced to flow in. The souvenir idea caught on to such a degree as to compel me to take in two fellow-prisoners, who evinced an aptitudefor the work, as apprentices, and they speedily blossomed into craftsmen. My first week told me I had struck the correct money-making line at last. I found I had scooped in 200 marks—£10! This was not bad for the first week's trading and I entertained no apprehensions concerning the future. Out of this sum I was able to repay many little debts I had incurred.
The business developed so rapidly that an extension of premises became urgent. I rigged up an addition to the kiosk, but it had to be of a portable character, so that it could be taken down every evening. As I found my time was so occupied I reluctantly decided to keep only to the kiosk. I dressed its interior with shelves and further improved my premises by contriving show cases for attachment outside.
When I felt my feet I blossomed out in various directions. I bought a small stock of odds and ends in the cheap jewellery line, which were suitably engraved. Button decorations was one line I took up and these sold like wildfire. There was plenty of money in the camp, some of the prisoners being extremely wealthy, and this explains why my trade flourished so amazingly. Indeed, the results exceeded even my most sanguine anticipations.
One branch of my fertility nearly landed me into serious trouble. I fashioned souvenirs out of German coins. I erased the Imperial head and in its place engraved a suitable inscription. When the defacement of the money was discovered there was a fearful uproar, but as usual I contrived to escape the terrible punishment which was threatened.
Naturally one will wonder how it was I secured my supplies, seeing that purchases outside the camp were forbidden except through the officially approved channels. While it is inadvisable for me to relate how I did secure my varied stocks I may state that I never experienced any disappointment or even a hitch in this connection. Time after time I was taxed by militaryindividuals, eager to secure incriminating evidence, but although they cajoled, coaxed and threatened I could not be induced to betray my secret. Indeed, at last, I point-blank refused to furnish any information upon this matter whatever, and with this adamantine decision they were forced to remain content. Doubtless they had their suspicions but it was impossible to bring anything home to me and so I was left in peace.
From cheap jewellery I advanced to more costly articles. I purchased a job lot of silver wrist watches from a Jew who had gone "broke," and these I cleared out within a very short time. I always paid spot cash and that was an overwhelming factor in my favour. Indeed, my trading operations became so striking that my name and business proceeded far beyond the confines of the camp. Within a few weeks of opening my shop I was receiving calls from men in the camp who were acting as representatives for some of the foremost Jewish wholesale houses in Germany, and they were almost fighting among themselves to secure my patronage. My biggest individual purchasing deal was a single lot of jewellery for which I paid nearly 1,000 marks—£50! From this, bearing in mind the difficulties which I had to overcome in securing delivery, it is possible to gain some idea of the brisk trade I was doing.
Everything and anything capable of being converted into a souvenir by the dexterous use of the engraving tool was handled by me indiscriminately. I bought a large consignment of briar pipes. Upon the bowls of these I cut a suitable inscription and filled the incisions with enamel. These caught the fancy of the smokers and I soon found my stock exhausted. As things developed I became more ambitious, although not reckless, until at last I had articles ranging up to £30 in price upon my shelves, in the disposal of which I experienced very little difficulty.
My shop became my one absorbing hobby although it boasted nopretensions. I contrived attractive show cases, some from egg-boxes, emblazoning the exterior with striking show cards and signs which I executed in the confines of my horse-box in the barracks after my comrades had gone to sleep. Not satisfied with this development I lighted the building brilliantly by means of electric lamps and a large flame acetylene lamp.
I did not confine myself to any one line of goods, but handled any thing capable of being turned into money quickly. In some instances I had to resort to extreme subterfuge to outwit the authorities. On one occasion I purchased a consignment of silk Union Jacks for wearing in the lapel of the coat. I knew full well that if I placed these on sale in my shop the stern hand of authority would swoop down swiftly and confiscate the hated emblem without the slightest compunction. So I evolved a special means of clearing them out and that within a very few minutes.
I went round to each barrack and button-holed a capable man to undertake to sell a certain number of the flags among the prisoners domiciled in his building. On the offer of a good commission the man was ready to incur great risks, although there was no risk in my plan. Each man thus received a territorial right as it were, and was protected against competition. The price was fixed and the arrangements for effecting the sale carefully drawn up. After the morning parade, the custom was to dismiss us to our barracks a few minutes before nine o'clock. We were compelled to stay within doors for some twenty minutes or so. This I decided to be the opportune occasion to unload my stock. I enjoined every vendor, when I handed him his stock overnight, to be on the alert in the morning, and as the clock struck nine to pass swiftly from man to man with his flags. The favour was a distinct novelty and I was positive they would sell like hot cakes.
The scheme proved a howling success. Within five minutes after theappointed hour every man had been cleared out. The flags were triumphantly pinned to the lapels of the coats. When the prisoners re-emerged from the barracks the guards were astounded by the brilliant display of Union Jacks. The array was so imposing that the authorities even realised the futility of stopping each prisoner in turn to rob him of his prize. In this manner I got rid of several hundreds of the little trophies in one swoop.
As may be imagined there was an enquiry to ascertain how these flags had been introduced into the camp. The prisoners were interrogated, but no prisoner appeared to know anything about the matter. He invariably retorted that he had purchased it from "some fellow or other" and had stuck it in his button-hole. Never for a moment did the authorities suspect that I had anything to do with the transaction. It was out of my ostensible line, so that I escaped suspicion. The chortling which took place at the complete discomfiture of the authorities and the manner in which they had been outwitted is recalled vividly to this day. It wasone of many incidents which served to vary the monotony of camp life.
On August Bank Holiday, 1915, the authorities considerately permitted us to have a day's junketting. We were to be at liberty to do exactly as we pleased. Indeed, we were urged to enjoy ourselves thoroughly and we did not require a second urging. The football ground was converted into a fair. No restrictions whatever were imposed upon us. The authorities themselves were so enthused with this concession to us as to give us several days' notice of their intentions to enable us to make any preparations we considered fit, while we were not faced with any obstacles in the rigging up of side-shows, gambling halls and what not.
The concession was particularly attractive to me, as I recalled that it was upon the previous August Bank Holiday I had been arrested on the charge of espionage and consigned to Wesel Prison. The rivalry amongst us was astonishing, while there were many wonderful manifestations of fertility and ingenuity. One prisonerspent 1,000 marks—£50—in rigging up his booth, which was somewhat reminiscent of an Aunt Sally at home. My two friends, K—— and F——, contrived a golfing game which proved a huge financial success. I myself rigged up a billiard table on which was played a very unorthodox game of billiards, and which, because of its departure from conventionality, created a sensation. It was really a revival of a game or wheeze which I had learned many years before.
The billiard table was contrived from the wooden sides to my bed. I secured them side by side to give a flat surface 6 feet long by 5 feet wide. Over the upper surface I stretched and tacked down a sheet to form the cloth. I bought a broomstick and with the assistance of the camp carpenter shaved it down to form a passable cue, tipping the end with a small piece of leather cut from my boot. The table was rigged up in the open air, boxes and barrels serving as the legs, while it was levelled as far as practicable. There was only one ball. At the opposite end—on the spot—I placed two match-boxes set at an angle to one another and just sufficiently far apart to prevent the ball passing between them. The unusual game was to play the ball at the boxes in such a manner as to knock both of them over together. It seems a simple thing to do, but I would merely advise the reader to try it. Probably he will learn something to his advantage.
I assumed fancy dress. I secured a big top hat, a pair of trousers much too baggy and big for me, a swallow-tail coat with tails formed of white and red strips—a regular Uncle Sam's costume—had a big flaming bow about twelve inches in width and a ridiculous monocle. I think my rig-out transformed me into a hybrid of Brother Jonathan, Charlie Chaplin and an English dude. My dress was completed by a biscuit tin suspended by a band from my shoulder and in which I rattled my money. On the face of the tin I wrote—
Come along! Come along!! Come along!!!Always open to make. Always open to lose.Come along B'hoys!
Come along! Come along!! Come along!!!Always open to make. Always open to lose.Come along B'hoys!
I then stood on a box and told the tale characteristic of a man at the fair for the first time in my life.
Seeing that I was the only man attired in fancy dress I became the centre of attraction as I desired and as much among the guards who mixed and joked with us freely on this Great Day, as among my fellow-prisoners. It also served as a striking advertisement for my game of unconventional billiards, which was my intention. My terms were ten pfennigs—one penny—a shot and round my table the fun grew fast and furious. It seemed so absurdly easy to knock the two boxes down at once, but when the billiard experts settled down to the game they found that only about one shot in fifty proved successful. Indeed the ability to knock the two boxes over simultaneously was found to be so difficult as to be exasperatingly fascinating, and as a result of their repeated and abortive efforts I made money quickly. The table was kept going hard the whole day, by the end of which I found I had raked in several pounds in nimble pennies.
The other side-shows also did excellent business, especially the gambling tables where roulette was in full swing. At the end of the day all the roulette boards and other gambling impedimenta were confiscated. This was the arrangement. But between sunrise and sunset we did not suffer the slightest interference with our enjoyment and merriment. This unexpected spell of free action revived the spirits of the prisoners to a remarkable degree, and we were all warmly grateful to the German authorities for allowing us to do and to enjoy ourselves exactly as we pleased for even one brief day. It was a Bank Holiday according to the British interpretation of the term, and I, in common with all my fellow-prisoners, must certainly admit that it was the jolliest day I remember during the whole period of myincarceration, and theonlyday on which we were allowed to indulge in sportad lib.and according to the dictates of our fancies. I mention this concession because I am anxious to give credit to the Germans where it is due.
I was not only making sufficient money out of my various commercial transactions to keep myself in clover within the camp, but I was successful in finding means to remit some of my income, earned in Ruhleben, to England "To keep the Home Fires Burning." This I considered to be a distinct achievement, especially as I was making it at the expense of my captors.
Only once did I have an acute shock. It was at the time when the Germans were making such frantic efforts to rake in all the gold upon which they could place their hands. In my stock was a certain gold article which had cost me £30, as well as another item also of this metal which I had secured at the low price of £20. An officer swooped down upon my kiosk and went through my stock. I trembled as to what would happen when he alighted upon the two valuable articles. He picked up the first named article, examined the metal critically, and then asked me how much I wanted for it.
"Three marks!" I ventured nonchalantly, with a view to taking him off his guard.
"But it's gold," he persisted, staggered at the idea of being able to buy such an adornment for the trivial sum of three shillings.
My heart thumped as he held the article hesitatingly. If he offered me three shillings for it I should be bound to accept it in which event I should be a heavy loser over the deal. So I went on desperately:
"Well, if you think it's gold why don't you buy it for three marks? I will give no guarantee, so don't come back and say it's only metal!" Then assuming a deprecating tone I continued: "It is got up only for show. It looks very pretty, but you couldn't give it to a lady!"
He appeared to be quite satisfied because he replaced it, while when he picked up the other item I pitched a corresponding yarn. After he had taken his departure I promptly transferred the two articles to a place of safety in case he should take it into his head to make another examination.
It was on June 1 when I embarked upon my engraving venture, and my two apprentices and myself were kept hard at it the livelong day, the pressure of business being so great. My own working hours, so long as daylight permitted, were from 5 a.m. to 9 p.m. About September I concluded the moment to be ripe to consummate my one absorbing idea—to get home. I was now in a position financially to complete the plans I had laid long since. I had to tread warily, but by the end of October I was secure in my position. Still, although confident of success, I did not relax my interest in business, because my plans were just as likely to go wrong as to succeed at the last minute. Moreover at the end of November I had the intense satisfaction of learning that my profit as a result of five months' trading was £150! I considered this to be extremely satisfactory. An average profit of £7 10s. per week exceeded my rosiest anticipations, and it now seems additionally remarkable when I recall the limited confines and the restricted clientèle of Ruhleben Camp. But the greatest satisfaction I have is knowing that I completely outwitted my oppressors, because I was not supposed to trade as I did. It was a telling example of stolen fruits being the sweetest.
As is well known the British prisoners in Germany have only one person within the Central Empires to whom they can appeal for protection, and through whose good offices alone they are able to secure redress of their grievances. This is Mr. Gerard, the Ambassador of the United States of America to Germany. Mr. Gerard has toiled indefatigably and unremittingly upon our behalf. In his magnanimity and determination to give a square deal all round, he has made the signal error of accrediting the Germans with being a highly-developed, civilised, and cultivated race.
Unfortunately for Mr. Gerard's sense of duty the German does not accept the principles of the precept, "Do unto others as you would others should do unto you," but has evolved a code of his own construction which is peculiarly Teutonic—"Do unto others as you know others will not dare or deign to do unto you!" The American Ambassador has always responded promptly to any calls for his intercession and has ever listened courteously and patiently to tales of woe. Whenever he has considered the complaint to be well-founded he has spared no effort to secure an immediate improvement in conditions. Yet it is to be feared that many of his recommendations have never been, or have only been partially and indifferently, carried into effect.
In his determination to hold the scales of justice evenly Mr.Gerard has been prone to accept the German at his own valuation. Every prisoner in Germany to-day knows from painful experience that the Teuton's word counts for nothing; it is not worth the breath expended upon its utterance, or the paper upon which it is written. The German is an unprincipled liar and an unmitigated bluffer, in which art, if such it may be called, he has become a super-master.
The German has always laughed, and still is laughing up his sleeve at the courteous American diplomat. The imperial authorities have never hesitated to throw dust in his eyes and to outwit him when the occasion suited their purpose. Indeed, they scheme deliberately and unceasingly to side-track him and to prevent the true conditions and affairs penetrating to his knowledge.
I had one striking instance of this carefully premeditated and unscrupulous gulling and thwarting of the American Embassy. The accidental discovery of the circumstance that the baseless charge of espionage levelled against me was still hanging over my head somewhat worried me. I ascertained one exceedingly disturbing fact which was communicated to me within the camp. Had I committed any offence, no matter how trivial, while in the camps, I should not have been arraigned upon that particular delinquency, but, in all probability, would have had the original charge retrumped up against me. I learned that this was the German practice. Moreover, the old charge was liable to be trotted out at any odd moment at the caprice of my oppressors. The authorities had never acquitted me of being a spy. On the other hand they had never pronounced me guilty. I was forced to accept the former interpretation from my transference to the internment camps, as if I had been merely a detained civilian. My reasons for believing that I had been acquitted of the grave charge were supported by the fact that in Germany, a person who has been found guilty of espionage, and who escapes the death penalty, is condemned to solitary confinement ina military prison.
The charge of espionage being in a condition of suspended animation as it might be termed, coupled with the fact that no one knew whenever, wherever, and how it might suddenly be revived to my detriment, did not conduce to my peace of mind. On one occasion I received a pretty rude shock. I filled up an application for release upon medical grounds, but upon being summoned before the authorities I was told point-blank that I should be kept a prisoner until the end of the war, exchange or no exchange.
The uncertainty became intolerable. I wrote a lengthy letter to the American Ambassador explaining my unfortunate and doubtful position and expressing the hope that he might be able to bring the matter to a decision. In common with my fellow-prisoners, I had always cherished the belief that a letter addressed to the American Embassy was regarded as confidential and inviolable; at all events was not to be opened, except with the express permission of the prisoner or the Ambassador. But my faith was rudely dispelled. I dispatched my communication only to receive a curt summons to appear before an officer, who bluntly informed me that my letter could not be sent to the Embassy because it was sealed. It was handed back to me with the injunction that the envelope must be left open.
Now, if letters containing complaints and addressed to our sole Protector are sent unsealed it is only logical to assume that the German officials apprise themselves of the character of the "grouse." By so doing they become as wise as the Ambassador—if the letter ever reaches him. By having access to all communications, a letter is permitted to go forward if it suits the officials, but not before they have made a note of the grievance in order to be able to take the necessary remedial steps before the Ambassador intervenes.
In my particular instance I prepared a lengthy explanatory communication,requesting an audience if at all possible. The letter was so worded as to compel an acknowledgment, unless the Germans were disposed to suffer exposure of their methods and duplicity. In due course a representative appeared. He seemed to have only a hazy recollection of my communication so I related all the essential details to him. I was more than positive that the German authorities had filed a copy of my letter because their attitude towards me changed suddenly and adversely, and by a strange coincidence this metamorphosis agreed with the date on which I had dispatched my communication to the Embassy.
I urged the representative to ascertain whether I had, or had not, been acquitted of the espionage charge. I particularly desired the official acquittal in writing from Wesel, because it would be of far-reaching value in the event of my being haled before the authorities upon some other flimsy offence. He listened attentively and sympathetically, appreciated the situation as it affected me personally and promised to do everything he could on my behalf. But evidently, subsequent conversation with the Teuton authorities exercised the desired German effect. A few days later I received a curt acknowledgment saying that my affair, which was somewhat unusual, was purely one for military decision. I was also informed that the papers referring to my case were at Wesel fortress, and I was advised to write direct to the Commandant at the military centre for them. With this consolation, if such it can be called, I had to rest content.
The fact that I have never heard another word upon the subject from that day to this proves conclusively that the authorities, although doubtless profuse in their apologies and regrets to the Ambassador over the delay, and unctuous in their promises to settle the issue immediately, never really intended to stir another finger in this direction. No one disturbed the official serenity and forthwith the whole question was permitted to slide and to be forgotten in accordance with German machinations.
Upon the receipt of the ambassadorial letter I was inclined to stir up the whole issue for all I knew how, but upon second thoughts I refrained from pursuing the matter any further. I had thoroughly made up my mind as to the course of action which I would take, and so concluded that it would be far better from my point of view to "let sleeping dogs lie." I think my attitude must have completely disarmed the Germans. To them I assumed an air of complete resignation, but all the time I was working silently and zealously towards my own salvation.
At frequent intervals the emissary from the Embassy visited us. He was invariably received graciously by Baron von Taube, whom we facetiously dubbed Baron von Facing-both-ways, and other members of his staff to form as escort through the camp. The representative thus saw and heard exactly as much as the authorities determined should be the case and nothing more. Whenever he was disposed to become uncomfortably inquisitive he was deftly steered clear of the troubled waters. We were told that we were quite at liberty to speak to the Ambassador if we desired, but unofficially we were warned to think twice before we took such a step, the hint being thrown out that it would be better for us to refrain from talking to him unless first questioned. The shallowness of the official decree was vividly brought home to us when we were forcibly confined to barracks, and this frequently occurred while the ambassadorial visitor was in the camp.
On one occasion complaints concerning the living quarters were made. The representative came and explained the object of his mission to the Commanding Officer. Ostensibly this worthy was overwhelmed with surprise at any such grievance having been formulated, although, as a matter of fact he knew full well why the representative had called, owing to the rule concerning all letters being posted unsealed.
The Commanding Officer protestingly laughed at the suggestion that the living quarters were untenable. But there! The representative could see for himself. With every semblance of complete complaisance the representative was escorted into the camp. With unassumed unconcern, but with deliberate intention, he was accompanied to Barracks 1 or 2, to see with his own eyes a typical illustration of the living quarters provided within the camp.
The situation was exceedingly ludicrous, although it was of considerable moment to us who had lodged the complaint. The representative could not have been taken to more convenient buildings from the German point of view. They are the show-barracks of Ruhleben, and certainly are excellent specimens of the prisoners' quarters. They indubitably served as a powerful illustration of how prisoners could make themselves comfortable. They were held up far and wide throughout Ruhleben as a pattern for all others to copy. One and all of us would willingly have emulated this attractive model—if we had possessed the money to spend upon luxuries!Barrack No. 2 is the domicile of theéliteand wealthy of Ruhleben. The prisoners, flush of funds, have been permitted to gratify every whim and fancy. They have expended large sums of money upon the purchase of furniture and knick-knacks, the result being favourably comparable with a smart and fashionable flat, that is if a flat can be squeezed into a horse-box ten feet square!
The representative was solemnly assured that these barracks were only typical of the other buildings in the camp. But had the American visitor walked a few dozen yards upon his own initiative, to enter Barrack 3 or 5, he would have received a convincing demonstration of unprincipled German lying. There the inmates were compelled, willy-nilly, to lie upon the floor. At that time beds had not been served to more than one-half of the prisoners.
During oneof these visits the prisoners of Barrack 6 defied authority. They had petitioned the officials incessantly to improve their quarters but to no purpose. The cause for the greatest discontent was the absolute lack of light. The loft was nothing more nor less than a "Black Hole." On this occasion the tenants had been sent to barracks with the strict injunction that they were not to come out again until the ambassadorial inspection had been completed. But the prisoners were not disposed to permit this deliberate hoodwinking of our protector to continue indefinitely. The representative had been taken to a typical [sic] barrack to observe the appointments and to satisfy himself concerning the German efforts which had been made to render the tenants comfortable. As usual he found no apparent justification for the complaints which had been made.
He was being escorted to inspect some new latrines which had recently been completed. To reach the latter point he had to pass Barrack 6, in which the boys were on the alert to seize the opportunity for which they had been waiting quietly. When the representative was but a few yards distant up went the shout in unison, "Come and see our barrack! Come and see our barrack!"
The guards endeavoured to smother the hail, but for once they were too slow. The representative heard the cry, stopped, and doubtless impressed by the vehemence of the invitation, expressed his intention to make an investigation. I mention this incident to emphasise the point that the Embassy was always ready to deal fairly with the prisoners, and to prove that a great deal more would have been done on our behalf had the visitors been given a freer hand.
The chagrin of the German entourage escorting the ambassadorial deputy was amusing to observe. Behind his back they frowned, glowered, and glared fiercely, shook their fists, and muttered stifled incoherent curses, but when he turned to them they assumed a meekness andpleasantry which quite disarmed suspicion. Still, their anger, as they followed him into the building, was so intense as to defy being masked and afforded us, who were witnessing the episode, the most complete satisfaction and ill-disguised delight.
The expected happened. The representative entered Barrack 6. He climbed the rickety staircase leading to the loft with difficulty to dive into the "Black Hole." He condemned it in unmeasured terms. Apparently he realised how neatly he had been hoodwinked, he became furious, and in tones which brooked no argument or discussion, ordered the instant removal of the prisoners to more congenial surroundings. The officials were beside themselves with rage at the turn which events had taken, but they hesitated to give offence. They were profuse in lame excuses and pleaded that the accommodation in this loft was only temporary. The German interpretation of the word "temporary" may be gathered from the fact that this particular loft had been occupied for nearly six months. But the representative gained the day. The loft was forthwith vacated and subsequently, when certain improvements had been carried out, was used only as a schoolroom.
About March, 1915, as previously narrated, we commenced to experience a severe shortage of bread. We were not receiving sufficient of the staff of life to keep us alive. The representative drove into the camp one day to investigate some other matter. When he had departed upon his mission, accompanied by the inevitable entourage, some of us gathered around his motor-car which was covered with dust. While one or two were chatting with the chauffeur one of the party slipped a letter, pointing out our dire straits and describing how famished we were, beneath the ambassador's seat, and in such a manner as to compel his attention upon re-entering the automobile. Another prisoner, with his finger, scrawled in the dust upon the rear of the tonneau, "We want bread!" while other notices were chalked up in commanding positions, so as to arrest instant attention, "For God's sake, give us bread!"
When the German guards spotted the flaming appeal upon the rear of the car they fussed up in indignant rage. One advanced to obliterate the damning words, but the chauffeur whipped round the car. He caught sight of the mute request, and intercepting the officious sentry remarked:—
"You mustn't touch this car! It's the property of the United States Government!"
The guard pulled himself up sharply, glaring fiercely and evidently contemplating defiance of the warning. The chauffeur was a white man. He eyed us quizzically for a moment or two. Realising from our faces that we were not playing a joke, but ventilating a serious grievance, he stood between the officious sentry and the vehicle until the representative returned. The Embassy car drove out of the camp with the letters still staring out in a gaunt appeal from the thick dust. Evidently the chauffeur drew the representative's attention to our cry, while it is only reasonable to suppose that the emissary from the Embassy discovered the letter which we had secreted beneath his seat, because an improvement in the allowance of bread immediately ensued.
And so it went on. No trick was too knavish or too despicable to prevent our guardian learning the truth concerning our plight. He very rarely walked about unaccompanied. Tongue in cheek, the Germans, who always were cognisant of the object of his visit, and who had always taken temporary measures to prove the grievance to be ill-founded, strode hither and thither with him, throwing knowing glances and winks among themselves behind the representative's back. Doubtless it was the successful prosecution of these tactics which persuaded the Embassy to believe that the majority of our complaints were imaginary and arose from the circumstance that the inhabitants of Ruhleben would persist in ignoring the fact that they were the victims of war and not pampered pets.
One of the most glaring instances of the effective manner in which the Germans sought to disarm and to outwit an official visitor was narrated to me by a fellow-prisoner who had been transferred from Sennelager to Ruhleben. I conclude that the incident must have happened, during the interregnum when I was "free on Pass" in Cologne. I cannot vouch for the accuracy of the statement, but I do not think there is the slightest reason to doubt the word of our compatriot, because he was in Sennelager at the time and actually passed through the experience. Furthermore it is typical of Teuton methods in matters pertaining to the treatment of prisoners.
X—— stated that, despite the havoc wrought during the "Bloody Night" of September 11, all the prisoners were still herded on the field at Sennelager until long after my departure. They were exposed to the heavy rains and were all reduced to a miserable condition. Suddenly an order came up commanding all prisoners to return instantly to their old barracks. This sudden manifestation of a humane feeling upon the part of the Commandant provoked widespread amazement. What had happened?
The surprise of the prisoners became accentuated when they regained the permanent buildings which had formerly comprised our home. They were hurried into their quarters and shaken down with incredible speed. Fires were set going and the unhappy prisoners made themselves comfortable confident that their trials now were over, and that they were destined to prolonged residence under weathertight roofs.
The following day an august visitor arrived at the camp. Whether he was an emissary from the American Embassy or not my informant was unable to say, for the simple reason that no one knew his identity, and every precaution was observed to prevent any information upon this matter from becoming known among the prisoners.Be that as it may he made a detailed tour of the camp, investigating the arrangements and accommodation provided for the hapless inhabitants' welfare. Under no circumstances whatever were the British prisoners permitted to speak to the mysterious stranger. Any attempt in this direction was sternly and forcibly suppressed by the guards who swarmed everywhere. Evidently, judging from his demeanour, the stranger was deeply impressed—and satisfied—with what he saw with his own eyes.
But the moment he had left the camp the prisoners were paraded and re-transferred to the field. This story, if accurate, and I see no reason to doubt its veracity, is interesting from one circumstance. When we were summarily turned out upon the field by the inhuman Major Bach, he advanced as his reason for such action that vast numbers of German recruits were momentarily expected, and that the buildings were required to house them. But according to the foregoing incident the barracks were still empty. The lying Commandant of Sennelager Camp was thus condemned out of his own mouth, while the minute precautions he observed to prevent the mysterious stranger from learning a word about our experiences on the field proves that he merely turned us out into the open, herded like animals in a corral, to satisfy his own personal cravings for dealing out brutality and torture.
But the most glaring example of German duplicity and astuteness in throwing our protector off the track provoked Ruhleben to hilarious merriment, despite the seriousness of our position. Leastways, although the Teutons may have regarded the movement as one of serious intention, we regarded it as a deliberate piece of hoodwinking. One morning we were solemnly informed that the authorities had completed arrangements whereby every prisoner was to receive a good substantial meat meal once a week. It was to comprise a chop, potatoes, some other vegetable, and gravy. It sounded so extraordinarilyluxurious and appetising as to provoke incredulity and caustic comment. Those who, like myself, had suffered internment in other camps and who had become thoroughly grounded in Teuton shiftiness and trickery divined that something unusually crafty and cunning was afoot.
I might mention that by this time Ruhleben comprised a small town of twenty-three barracks housing a round 4,000 prisoners. This represented an average of 174 men to a barrack, although, as a matter of fact, some of the buildings accommodated over 200 men. The culinary arrangements were fulfilled by only two kitchens. Now, the problem which presented itself to the minds of the more sophisticated and suspicious prisoners was this—How would the authorities grapple with the preparation and serving of 4,000 chops in one day with the cooking facilities available? Were we to be treated to another staggering example of Germany's wonderful powers of organisation and management?
The glamour of the proposition suddenly disappeared. We learned that the "tuck-in" was not to be general throughout the camp on a certain day. The delight was to be dealt out in instalments, and in such a manner that so many men would be able to partake of the gorgeous feast upon each successive day of the week.
So far so good. We in Barrack 5 were among the first to receive the promised meat meal, which we had been anticipating with ill-disguised relish. It reached us on the Tuesday. The meal was swallowed greedily and keenly enjoyed, although the meat was of inferior quality. But I never saw another chop in our barrack for a month! Crash went another alluring Teuton promise.
We became inquisitive and to our amusement learned what the more shrewd and doubting among us had suspected. Sufficient chops were being cooked every day to ensure so many men regularly receiving the meat meal. Every man received his chop as promised although he was perhapscompelled to wait an inordinate time for his turn. As there were twenty-three barracks with two kitchens to fulfil their demands meat dinners were being prepared every day. Indeed, the Germans appeared to be always cooking chops!
It was a masterpiece of German cunning. Whenever a visitor, animated by desires to ascertain how the prisoners were being treated, visited the camp he was piloted to the kitchen. There could be seen an imposing array of chops sizzling and spitting gaily, and emitting an appetizing aroma. Were prisoners of war ever treated so sumptuously as those at Ruhleben? The visitor was gravely assured that the chops he saw represented but a portion of what were being prepared for the prisoners, in which statement the Germans were perfectly correct, but they artfully refrained from saying that only a certain number of men received the dainty dish each day, the idea being to convey the impression that this was merely the daily routine for the whole of the camp.
It did not matter when the American representative or any other visitor came into the camp—chops were being cooked. The visitors naturally concluded that we were being treated in a right royal manner, and one quite in accordance with the most noble traditions of the German nation. It never occurred to these visitors, apparently, to make enquiries among the prisoners to ascertain how they enjoyed theirdailymeat meal? Had they done so they would have been surprised.
The German explanations were so verbose and ostensibly so sincere as to be received without the slightest cavil. Naturally our task-masters studiously declined to extend any enlightenment upon the matter, preferring to lull the visitors into a false haven of credibility. Unfortunately we discovered that we had to pay indirectly for the delectable dainty and Teuton liberality—the dinners upon the other days steadily grew worse in quantity, quality, and variety!
We alladmire the unceasing efforts which the American Ambassador has, and still is exerting upon our behalf, and we are extremely thankful for the many and far-reaching improvements he has wrought. His work is one of extreme difficulty, demanding unremitting patience, tact, and impartiality. It must be remembered that he was submitted to an unceasing bombardment of complaints from 4,000 prisoners, overwrought from their incarceration, and ready to magnify the slightest inconvenience into a grievance.
Unfortunately his task is aggravated by the unprincipled lying, bluffing, and crafty tactics of the German authorities. They have no more compunction in fooling the American Ambassador than they have in depriving the prisoners of sufficient food to keep body and soul together. The task of Mr. Gerard in the immediate future is certain to become more perplexing, intricate, and delicate, but we hope that he will prove equal to the occasion.
Early in November, 1915, my arrangements for leaving Ruhleben were so far advanced that I could scarcely restrain my excitement. On December 6 I disposed of my business. It was of no further use to me. The day for which I had been waiting so patiently and longingly had dawned at last and—
I got home safely!
Although arrested and tried upon the false, frivolous, trumped-up charge of being a British spy, I have never been acquitted of that indictment. It still hangs over my head.
Shortly after reaching home I received a letter from a friend with whom I had been interned. He secured his release some months before I shook the dust—and mud—of Ruhleben from my feet. On the day we parted he sympathised deeply with me at the prospect of being condemned to languish in the hands of the enemy until the clash of arms had died down. I did not seek to disillusion him, although, even at that time, I had made up my mind to get away by hook or by crook.
This former fellow-prisoner had heard of my safe return to my own fireside. The envelope contained nothing beyond his visiting card, across the back of which he had scrawled, "How the devil did you get out?"
But that is another story.