Itwas just like house moving. The heavy luggage was sent in advance, but we preferred to carry our dearest belongings. Many of us must have resembled fully-equipped pedlars or super-caddis-worms carrying their houses on their backs, but in our case these were not composed of sticks or dead leaves, but provisions, gramophones, mandolines, pots, kettles, etc., tied together with string, the rattle of which appeared to amuse some of the civil population. Some time after leaving Osnabrück the train stopped at an out-of-the-way station near Hildesheim, close to a group of men working on the line. At once a solitary khaki-clad figure detached itself from the rest and came towards us at the run. It turned out to be a British Tommy bubbling over with pleasure at seeing some of his own race to speak to at last, after having Russians and Huns for his companions for many months. We gave him a summary of the latest news and all kinds of tinned foods. The other Russianprisoners soon followed him, looking half starved, and clamoured for bread, which we had just time to give them when a bad tempered Hun drove them back to their work.
Towards evening we passed through Hameln? (better known to us as “Hamelin”), but saw no signs of the Pied Piper. Now there was a man who was not brought into the world for nothing, but used his genius to the destruction of small Huns! The higher the train climbed into the Hartz Mountains the deeper became the snow. From the dimly-lighted carriages we could sometimes see the dark outline of high wooded hills between the snow flurries. A little before midnight we stopped with a jerk and were told to “Aus.” As I followed the others into a restaurant winter garden affair, five minutes after our arrival, I was delighted to hear several small gramophones already playing “Bric-a-brac” and other selections from musical comedies, each insisting that its was the only tune worth listening to. Owing to the conditions escape was out of the question; the Germans did not therefore worry much—in fact, coming up in the train a rather nice N.C.O. at last yielded to my entreaties and sang a verse of the Hymn of Hate, accompanying himself on my mandoline.
After standing two hours in a queue at the bar I managed to procure some quite good wine which made us feel almost at home. For the rest of that night it was almost possible to imagine oneself free, but snowed up. The next morning, on hearing that the camp was about two miles away, we inquired if some of the larger suit cases might be left behind as the walking was so heavy, to be brought up later, at an extra charge, by the station sleigh, which came up to the camp every day. But we might have known that it would only be a waste of breath asking the Huns to help us in any way. (Later, when some very senior British officers arrived, bound for this camp, they received identically the same treatment.) After an uphill struggle we reached the camp, and were kept standing quite unnecessarily for three-quarters of an hour in a snowstorm before being admitted to the dining-hall. On entering I was lucky enough to run straight into an Australian flight commander, who had often taken me up in my observing days at my first squadron, then at a village behind Ypres.
The camp is well situated, being almost surrounded by pine forests, which cover most of the Hartz Mountains. If the day is at all clear a high and rather rounded hill is visible to the eastward, conspicuous for its bleakness,standing well above the dark intervening fir-clad hills. This is the Brocken, the highest mountain in Northern Germany, on the summit of which Goethe’s Faust was evolved. It is difficult to realise that it is, roughly, 5,000 feet above sea level, or the camp 2,000. The ascent in this part from the foot hills being gradual, the surrounding country is not so imposing as one would expect. Outside the camp is a small picturesque lake, which was frozen over most of the time. On a clear evening it was fascinating to watch the superb soaring of the buzzards. It seemed as if their telescopic eyes could make out the wings on some of our tunics, for with a jeering cry they would commence gliding in a vast sweeping circle with scarcely a movement of their wings, every feather under perfect control, until at length they disappeared into the endless blue. We still have a lot to learn, but talk of the “homing instinct,” if only a few aeroplanes had been handy I know which would have made the quickest non-stop flight to “Blighty.”
The next day a number of Belgian officers left to take up their abode in the quarters vacated by us in Osnabrück, many of them resplendent in their tasselled caps, and a few wearing clanking swords which they had been allowed to retain in recognition of thegallant way they had defended some of the Liège and Antwerp forts. With them went two Belgian officers, who, curiously enough, could not speak their lingo. This was not surprising, however, as their real names were Captain Nicholl, R.F.C., and Lieutenant Reid, R.N. It appeared they intended to jump the train before reaching their destination and have a try for the Dutch border. German trains often go slowly and stop, but as luck would have it this one, as we afterwards heard, refused to do anything of the sort. Whether Captain Nicholl succeeded in getting off I do not know, but Lieutenant Reid, seeing discovery imminent, jumped through the carriage window and broke his ankles. They were both taken to Osnabrück and Nicholl was sent back under arrest. After three weeks Lieutenant Reid returned, lame, but quite cheery. As he was under arrest, however, we could not learn much of their treatment, though it was common knowledge that he had left hospitalverysoon, and was made to walk up from the station as best he could. His sentence was lengthened by some days on the charge of answering his wrong name at a roll call on arrival at Osnabrück, but as he was quite unable to stand this was obviously a fabrication.
When we had been there about ten days alot more British officers arrived from Friedburg, where they had received quite good treatment. Many of the prisoners at this camp had been taken at Mons, La Cateau and Ypres, and were consequently a little out of date. They could hardly realise what a “Somme barrage” was like, and were therefore known as the “Bow and Arrow” men! On the journey to Clausthal two of them managed to jump from the train and got clear away. About this time five Italian officers were warned to leave the next day. The preceding night, after supper, Colonel Bond (K.O.Y.L.I.), after a short speech, proposed the toast “Viva Italia,” which we drank in canteenWeisswein, or imitation port, to which a senior Italian officer enthusiastically replied with a “Viva Inghilterra.” After their departure the camp contained British only, the remaining number of officers being a little over three hundred.
Accommodation.—The principal building, in which about half of us lived, was aKurhaus, or small hydro, in peace time, with a large dining-hall at one end. The smallest bedrooms were occupied by one or two senior officers, while the remainder held about half a dozen. A shower-bath was on the premises. The rest of us were quartered in three temporary wooden barracks, wheremost of the rooms were rather over-crowded, holding from six to eight fellows.
Recreation.—At a portion of the grounds was a fairly steep incline and on this we made a short toboggan run, banking the snow up steeply at the turn to avoid going through the barbed wire. In many instances it must have been amusing to watch a small sleigh being steered by a novice, with fat individuals sitting on the top of him, trying to avoid the young trees, usually without any success. Unfortunately for me I had a nasty knack of always being in the worst crashes. It is impossible to find a more effective way of destroying boots than continually steering with one’s feet. Other people displayed their extensive knowledge of winter sports by ski-ing, or rather lying on their backs, unintentionally waving their skis in the air. This soon had to be abandoned, however, as the weather soon became uncertain, often changing from a hard frost to a violent thaw every two or three days.
A naval officer in my barrack received a miniature billiard-table, which became immensely popular. Cards, roulette, ping-pong and chess greatly assisted in passing the time. We also had quite a good camp library, the books mostly having been received from home. I often heard it remarked that life there was one long queue, and it was not farwrong. Often one passed the morning waiting one’s turn for the “tin room,” or newly arrived parcels, while soon after lunch it was customary to see the more patient individuals already lining up chairs and settling down to their books, to wait for hot water which was sold at tea time. All this may sound most enjoyable, but I will now endeavour to explain a little of the wonderful system then in vogue at this camp, the only object of which seemed to be to remind you in an objectionable manner that you were a prisoner on every possible occasion.
Treatment.—When we first arrived the commandant was not so bad, but after several visits from corps headquarters at Hanover, he resigned his post, it is said, on the grounds that he could not treat British officers like common criminals, as he was supposed to. I think this is highly probable, though I cannot vouch for the truth of the assertion, it being only hearsay. He was replaced by a fat and rather harmless dug-out captain, who proved to be only a pompous figurehead. The camp was entirely run by the second in command, Lieutenant Wolfe. In England persons of this type are so rarely met with that our language does not contain the necessary words to describe them adequately. In Germany they are comparativelycommon, therefore, collectively they may be put down as belonging to the “super-swine class”! Wolfe was arrogance personified. He possessed a closely-cropped bullet head, and a round, somewhat bloated pale face, near the centre of which gleamed two small, cold, calculating blue eyes; the whole effect so strongly resembled a white pig that among ourselves he was usually known as “pig face.” He belonged to a reserve Hanoverian regiment, and was a schoolmaster by profession. It is small wonder that children under such authority never learn to know the true meaning of the word “kultur.” Somehow he knew about the treacling affair at our last camp, for after getting our names from Osnabrück, he strained every nerve to get us court-martialled and punished. Two or three times a week we criminals had to assemble outside his room at an appointed hour. After a long wait “My Lord” strolled in, usually an hour late, walking very slowly, chewing a cigar. At first he only produced a small packet of papers, on most of which our individual statements were written, and asked absurd questions through an interpreter. But as time went on the case assumed larger proportions, and the bundle of nonsense increased to an enormous size. At almost every visit we had to sign some new documentcertifying that we understood the latest communication on the subject from headquarters. After much hard work “pig face” achieved his object, and we were warned to attend a court-martial at Hanover. However, this is worthy of a separate chapter.
One day an impossible staff captain arrived from Hanover to inspect the camp. He was a large, arrogant bully, who brought with him two detectives for the purpose of searching our rooms and kit for forbidden articles. We will not waste time discussing his manners; he had none. The detectives seemed quite decent, and therefore cannot have been properly dehumanised by the powers that be. In German camps it is forbidden to sit or lie on one’s bed during the day, unless one has reported sick at roll call. This captain suddenly entered a room in our barrack and surprised a Scotsman lying on his bed reading a book. Seeing that the culprit had his clothes on, he screamed out such a stream of unintelligible curses and threats, that had a similar noise taken place at the Zoo, I am sure the keepers would have rushed out to stop the monkey fight. The Scotsman waited until this torrent had somewhat abated, then slowly getting to his feet, he drawled out in a bewildered way, “And how’s your faither!” It is doubtful whetherthe startled captain understood this kind inquiry or not, but he rushed out of the room and, grabbing a sentry’s bayonet, returned and stuck it in the boards at his feet. Ours was the next room he favoured. Without the semblance of a knock he burst in, and as nothing of importance had been found during the search, swaggered up and down in a most offensive manner with his nose in the air. In a few seconds he came to a stop beside me and shouted that he wished me to stand to attention, half dressed as I was (having just been searched). This was just about the limit, so pretending not to understand what he meant I turned round and busied myself with my clothing, at the same time humming softly to myself the air of “Pack up your troubles,” to relieve my feelings and stifle a desire to give him one under the jaw. On a word of command two scared sentries appeared, having been ordered to take me to the guardroom immediately. The usually harmless commandant was so frightened that he rolled his eyes and screamed after me, when exhaustion put an end to the captain’s song. It was pitiable to see two such men possessing not an atom of self-control between them, but it was not so amusing as one might think. It certainly looked as if I should be murdered without delay. I was put into a roomadjoining that occupied by the main guard, where I remained for three hours. During this period I got into conversation with some of the soldiers and was surprised at the bitter way they spoke of Lieutenant Wolfe, so much so that if he returned to the front I should be inclined to think that the quarter where his greatest danger lay was not in front but behind.
When I had the room to myself I spent the time exploring for useful articles. My oft-interrupted search resulted in the discovery of a heap of things in the far corner. At length an officer arrived and informed me that I should only receive three days’ “stuben”—arrest (solitary confinement). After which I was released. On re-entering the camp I did my best to look innocent, though, as luck would have it, I was really the richer by a couple of maps, a compass and some candles! One of the orderlies in the camp was a cobbler, but though the Huns frequently assured us they would provide him with the necessary tools, it took two months for their promise to materialise. During this period my already patched boots threatened to give out altogether. I wrote a note to the commandant, explaining that I was daily expecting boots from England, but as these appeared to have been delayed, asked that I might be allowed to order somecanvas shoes at the canteen in the meantime. The next day the interpreter handed me the answer: “Order leather from England, and have the boots resoled.” I could not help smiling, and casually remarked that it was worse than useless. Whereupon he snapped, “What, you say that the commandant’s note is useless? All right, I will you report.”
In due course the usual notice was posted up to the effect “That the English Ober-Lieutenant Gerald Knight would for gross insolence the next three days in arrest spend.” Usually, roll call took place outside the main building, and as it generally meant standing in water or melting snow, was not particularly pleasant. Wolfe very often managed to take these parades, and did not miss this excellent opportunity for showing his authority. After arriving late he would stroll up and down the line, hands in pockets, looking as dignified as possible, always wasting time. “Appel,” when properly conducted, never lasted more than ten minutes or a quarter of an hour. On one occasion, Wolfe, who was well protected against the cold, kept us standing in a blizzard for an hour and a half, during which time he counted us five or six times, obviously for his own amusement. It was bad enough to have to stand there oneself, but it was much moreannoying to watch our senior officers, majors, colonels, and a major-general, awaiting the pleasure of a conceited German lieutenant. Almost every day some new order was issued, for the most part affecting little things, for example—stating that in future no food would be allowed in the rooms. A few days later it was not allowed in the cupboards standing in the passages. Soon it was only allowed in the dining-hall, where the accommodation was quite inadequate. One day two fellows were quietly walking down a path near the wire, when a sentry raised his rifle and threatened to shoot them if they did not at once go further from the wire! They refused to move, and told the sentry that they had a perfect right there. Whereupon the man at last lowered his rifle. On a complaint being made, Lieutenant Wolfe, knowing that few people were about, ingeniously squashed the case by refusing to take the matter up unless six witnesses were produced. There was a second lieutenant, junior to Wolfe (commonly known as the Worm!), who arrived after receiving promotion from the ranks. He was rather a miserable sort of person, inclined to follow Wolfe’s example in most things. He was for ever on the prowl and it never occurred to him to knock before entering a room. Once he came into our room and, assisted by twoguards, removed the mirror, shaving tackle, hair brushes, etc., from the window, placing them on the wash-hand stand in the darkest corner of the room. After this performance he drew himself up sedately and exclaimed, “That is the way we do things in Germany!” These little incidents are most annoying at any time, but especially so when one is wearing boots possessing good kicking qualities.
It was not until May that the snow finally disappeared and we were treated to a spell of warm weather, during which every one did their best to get sunburnt, and set to work on the new tennis court we had permission to make.
Lizards and frogs appeared from nowhere and endeavoured to inform us that spring was approaching. It is curious the way camp life again makes one childish and easily amused. For instance, it was quite a common occurrence to see a small crowd of fellows looking excitedly at something. On closer investigation it in most cases turned out to be a toad or a worm. As it became dry underfoot we were able to go out for walks on parole with a German officer. The stout commandant usually took us, and not only did he make himself quite agreeable, but also chose some very pretty paths among the various pine woods. One afternoon twofellows succeeded in cutting the outside wire in broad daylight and getting into the woods unobserved. Seeing his opportunity a tall Canadian, named Colquhoun, hastily gathered up his valuables and dived through the inviting gap in the wire (which had been cleverly cut behind some young fir trees and up beside a post). He was just disappearing into the woods at record speed (the sentry’s back being still turned) when he was seen by some children playing on a hillock a little way off. They at once made a noise, and several of them rushed down to tell the sentry. That man, however, was much too grand to listen to “kids” talking nonsense, so drove them off with many threats and violent gestures. When the escape was discovered, green-uniformed soldiers of Jaeger regiments and mounted foresters scoured the woods for nearly two days without any success. Shortly after a notice was posted up stating that when the escaped officers were recaptured, they would in all probability be tried by court-martial for breaking their parole in looking for hiding places when out for walks; this, needless to say, was all nonsense, the officers in question being miles away by that time.
This notice could not be regarded in any other light than that of an insult to British officers in general, causing much resentment.All future walks were voluntarily given up, and at evening “appel” all parole cards, without exception, were returned to the Huns by mutual consent, to avoid any insinuations of this sort in the future. After being out for about a fortnight the outlaws were all recaptured and taken to Ströhen, where I afterwards met them. The first two put up a very good show, being recaptured in an exhausted condition by a road guard, twenty odd kilometres from the frontier, much to their disgust. My friend, the Canadian, fought a good fight against an unkind fate. While washing in a stream one night he was taken by a man with a revolver looking for an escaped Russian prisoner. He was then put into prison at a men’s camp, where he succeeded in obtaining some wire-cutters from other Britishers. Forcing his way through the skylight into a dark and rainy night, he dropped to earth, cut the wire and was again free. The drop previous to cutting the wire had, however, damaged his compass, which stuck and led him south instead of west. Three days later he was taken near a bridge over a river by men and trained dogs, and transferred to a town prison. There I believe he received quite decent food, for which he was very thankful. During the late afternoon some children came to annoy him by shouting rude remarksfrom the passage. Even these little wretches were of some use, for at their departure they touched something on the outside of his door which jingled, and turned out to be a bunch of keys, which he was able to get possession of by pulling them through the sliding panel used by the guard for spying on the prisoner. When it was dark the adventurer produced the keys and by dint of much labour succeeded in opening his own cell and walking out.
At the back of one of the nearer buildings he discovered a bicycle, which he appropriated without a second thought. Having discovered his whereabouts he struck north to get into his original line, and was unfortunately discovered by some N.C.O.’s the next day in almost a starving condition repairing his bicycle in a shed. After such an attempt as this it is indeed hard to return to serve one’s sentence at a camp prison or fortress, knowing full well that, although having done one’s utmost, even the slightest official recognition is out of the question. After the second escape the Hun in charge of the men’s camp ’phoned to Clausthal, stating that the officer had been recaptured. Wolfe hearing the joyous news started out to bring back the truant as a lesson to others. “But when he got there the cupboard was bare,” so he returned to the “Hartz-Gebirge” empty-handedand disconsolate. The only really decent German at the camp appeared to be an “aspirant,” or first class warrant officer, who treated us quite fairly when opportunity offered; however, his superiors saw to it that this was not often.
Parcels.—These arrived fairly well, but were periodically hoarded up by the Huns for a week or ten days, where we could not get them without any previous warning. When drawing food all the tins had to be left behind until wanted for immediate consumption. It was therefore very difficult to lay in a supply against such emergencies. During these periods most messes determined, if possible, to have a meal of sorts at tea-time. Gradually, as the provisions got lower and lower, the menu read somewhat as follows: Tea (no milk or sugar); very limited black bread, thinly spread with soup essence, orcafé au lait(when the dripping, lard or potted meat had finally vanished). The meal itself was rather nauseating, but afterwards it was most gratifying to be able to say that you had had tea! When this playful little “strafe” was removed by an order from Hanover the accumulated parcels nearly caused the death of the Germans working in the distributing room. Letters were very slow in arriving. Once a general, while inspecting the camp, entered theparcel room, where he saw an English captain assisting with the sorting of the parcels. On finding that he spoke German well the general advised him to devote his spare time to the further study of that language, which he said would be very useful to him later. The captain was notorious for saying exactly what he thought, and be hanged to the consequences. His reply must have been more than the German bargained for: “Sir, I do not intend to waste my time learning a dead language!” It is probable that the general had had previous dealings with the British, and therefore possessed a sense of humour so rare to the Teuton, for he passed on without awarding the expected punishment.
Itis not usual to boast of the fact that one has been court-martialled, but I would not have missed this experience for anything. Early in the morning of May 15th, 1917, we twelve gaol-birds, after being carefully searched, left for the station escorted by eight guards. During the march I began softly humming a tune, but was at once silenced by an angry sentry, who told me that no noise of any sort was allowed. Turning to the N.C.O. I remarked that although he appeared to be in charge of the party he had not objected to my behaviour, and added that this seemed almost as if the private was exceeding his duty. This appealed to the dignity of his position, and although he evidently did not like me, he told the sentry off. On reaching the station we had an unpleasant surprise, for there, awaiting us on the platform, was our old friend, Wolfe.
In the early afternoon we got out of the train at a small station and were told thatwe should have to wait some hours for the connection. The senior member of our party inquired whether it was possible to get anything to eat, as it was already very late for the midday meal. Wolfe said he would try and led us into the restaurant, where a waiter inquired if we would have white or green beans. These dishes sounded so tempting that we ordered mixed. When the result was served (beans stewed with gravy and a little potato), it certainly greatly exceeded our expectations, being really appetising. When this was finished a resourceful member of the party produced some cards, and poker became the order of the day. The game was still in progress when one of the others called our attention to the Red Cross collecting box on the table. In trying to decipher the appeal for subscriptions for the wounded, he had made a great discovery. Actually beside the red cross in a small circle made by a rubber stamp were the words, “Gott strafe England!”
Naturally, this display of childishness amused us greatly, creating a general laugh. This frivolity in the face of a court-martial was more than Wolfe could stand, so after one withering glance in our direction he turned his back on us and stalked majestically from the room. Luckily I had in mypossession a good supply of tin canteen money (which was valueless outside the camp); this was at once transferred to the box as quickly as possible. It isn’t often that an Englishman has the pleasure of subscribing to his own special hate box! I am simply longing to know if the money was eventually returned to the camp for its equivalent value. Should this book in the near future be read in Germany, as I expect it will, would some kind Hun take the trouble to satisfy my curiosity? “Royal Air Force, England,” will always find me.
About six o’clock that evening we reached Hanover and were marched off through some of the main streets to an unknown destination. The town is all right; it is the people that spoil it. Proceeding down some broad streets we passed some very fine buildings, statues and fountains. Once a well-dressed woman unintentionally crossed our path, with the result that a sentry roughly threw her aside without a word of apology. Passing through a small park we halted before a low, dirty-looking stone building, with every window strongly barred.
Presently Lieutenant Wolfe emerged with a smile of welcome and bade us enter. In a small courtyard a German N.C.O., with a loud rasping voice, ordered the prison guard to take us to our quarters. After muchjangling of keys we were separated, to our amazement, and each one of the party locked in a cell by himself. Near the ceiling was one small window about two feet square. On examination this exit proved to be guarded with fine wire netting and thick iron bars firmly embedded in cement. As usual, there was a special spy-hole in the door which had to be covered on the inside. Attached to each end of the bed were two strong shackles, evidently intended to fasten the occupant down if necessary. We afterwards learnt that this was the garrison prison, it being considerably worse than the civil one. It does not seem surprising that they are able to maintain their iron discipline, if they resort to these methods. I think the reader will agree that this is hardly a fit place to lodge officers who, as yet, were only awaiting their trial. Several times I faintly heard the whirring of aeroplanes outside, but only managed to see one by pulling myself up to the window. We relieved the monotony a little by whistling to each other in the Morse code what we thought of the Huns for putting us there. The thickness of the walls, however, soon put a stop to this. During the night I was awakened by several thuds, followed by a crash, which came from somewhere overhead. This puzzled me at the time, but the next day I found the noise hadbeen caused by one of our party rat-hunting with the aid of a boot which had landed on a tin basin instead of the rat.
The next morning the man with a voice like a nutmeg grater released us from our cells, and after a few preliminaries we were marched off across the square to a large building, which we entered about ten o’clock. Then ensued a long but interesting wait, during which we watched all sorts and conditions of Huns passing up and down the main staircase. Amongst them we saw several colonels, a general and a very smart monocled major, whose helmet was rather the shape of a fireman’s, showing that he was in some crack cavalry regiment—dragoons, I think. They mostly wore pale blue-grey overcoats, and their buttons, sword-hilts and golden eagles on their helmets glittered exquisitely. The general appearance was smart enough, but everything seemed a trifle overdone, giving one the impression that they had just stepped out of a bandbox. Had a British officer been standing beside these Germans, wearing his sword, the contrast would have been a strange one, for while looking just as smart the uniform would have had the appearance of being infinitely more serviceable. There passed quite a number of Hun privates with downcast eyes, having just received their long sentences. An interpreter havingnothing to do, tried hard to prove to us that the U-boats would very soon bring England to her knees, but gave up the attempt on receiving an invitation to the camp to watch the daily arrival of the over-laden parcel cart.
Eventually we were ushered into the court, bareheaded, trying very hard to look meek. The opening questions and formalities took up a lot of time, and it really was a terrible strain trying not to laugh when the interpreter solemnly explained to a German captain that one of our party belonged to theMiddlesexRegiment. Before getting to business our individual conduct sheets were read out, mine being about as black as it could be. At our request two French majors from Osnabrück were present. Both spoke well on our behalf, explaining that this could only be a quarrel between the French and British in any case, but that they were delighted at what had occurred, and most certainly did not wish to prosecute. Everything went in our favour, and, when the treacling was described, even the presiding Hun general laughed. The public prosecutor, as usual, asked for the maximum punishment, 600 marks fine or 100 days fortress. Whereupon the court rose and left the room, looking justice itself. On their return it was announced that the junior three of our party,who had not actually entered the Frenchman’s room, were let off with a caution, and that all the rest were each fined five hundred marks, or fifty days in a fortress. This showed how they wanted our money; of course the whole thing had been arranged beforehand. On inquiring what the money would go to support we were told that it would probably be the war loan. A few minutes later, after leaving in a rebellious mood, we were lucky enough to meet the two Frenchmen, from whom we learnt that they too had spent the night in cells in the same prison. Later on I was given to understand that before a subsequent court-martial two British officers spent the night on a sort of mattress in a corner of the guardroom.
The return journey was accomplished without incident, except for an attempt on our part to speak to a captured guardsman, who was loading trucks, which was promptly squashed by Wolfe snapping out “Das geht nicht.” Nevertheless, a tin or two of food found its way out of the window.
The weather at Clausthal, after a brief interval of snowstorms, became beautifully warm, and the prospect of spending the summer in the Hartz Mountains was almost alluring. About this time General Friedrichs (in charge of prisoners of war) made a speech in the Reichstag, in the course of which hestated that the English treated their prisoners better than any other nation (or so the translation read), and went on to say that in return English prisoners must receive good treatment, so that at the conclusion of hostilities they would take back good remembrances of Germany to their own country. In my case things certainly did change (I expect as a result of the speech)—for the worse. A week later thirty-five officers, including myself, were sent to Ströhen, a camp which will certainly be remembered long after peace is declared, but I doubt if the memory will be a pleasant one.
Previousto our departure Wolfe personally searched our belongings. Although a long journey lay in front of us, he only allowed each individual to carry two small tins of food. In reply to our protests he said that, as things were always well arranged in Germany, our luggage would therefore arrive at the same time as ourselves. This was, of course, absolutely untrue, but we had to submit. During the great search Wolfe, seeing that I was wearing a belt made of plaited string (Yes, Mr. Wolfe, the belt in question was made of blind cord cut from thekurhauswindows!), and noting that it was something unusual, ordered me to leave it behind. Taking it off, I politely handed it to him, and expressed my hope that he would keep it as a souvenir! With a charming smile he replied, “Three daysstubenarrest,” which I acknowledged with a bow.
Outside the camp, on our way to the station we looked back and saw the roll callwas in progress. Thereupon we gave three cheers for the many friends we were leaving behind us, in spite of the fact that Wolfe and the commandant were on parade. We travelled second class and at one station were even allowed to buy beer; our guards were quite reasonable, and things in general went off pleasantly. We stayed some time at an out-of-the-way station east of Osnabrück, where quite a crowd of children collected. They scrambled excitedly for the sweets and cigarettes which we threw them. Arriving at a little station called Ströhen, which seemed to be on a large moor, we got out and started for the camp, the German officer bringing up the rear in a victoria. After ten minutes’ walking down a lonely road we made out a group of low wooden huts surrounded by high arc lamps and wire, on a desolate moorland. Surely this could not be our destination, the good camp we had been led to expect.
But after inquiring our guards told us it was, although they were nearly as much surprised at its appearance as we were. At all events we were determined to hide our feelings and look cheery. Quickening our pace we approached the camp singing the almost forgotten song, “Tipperary,” were marched through the gates, and halted in front of a small group of German officers, inthe centre of the camp. We at once distinguished the commandant, a major, with a first class iron cross hanging from his collar. He was rather short and stout with a square face; his grey whiskers terminated in a small double-pointed beard; this completed his “Hunnish” appearance! With his hands behind his back he welcomed us with a sullen stare, all the while puffing stolidly at his cigar. Had the Huns rehearsed this scene for a week they could not have given us a more heathen reception. No one even made a show at politeness by a nod or a salute. A stout and ugly sergeant-major (named Muller), wearing a gaudy blue and red uniform and sword, bawled at us to dress by the right, as if he were addressing a squad of recruits. He very nearly exploded when we ignored his insolent words of command. A rather common little interpreter commenced calling the roll, beginning with a captain, but only shouting his surname, to which there was no response. When his voice gradually rose to a shriek the Englishman stepped out and said, “I suppose you mean Captain so-and-so.” The interpreter explained matters to the commandant, who must have realised that they were in the wrong, for in future we were addressed by our proper rank. (Victory No. 1.) We were each given a disc, on which was stamped ourcamp number (mine is now residing at home), and shown into our rooms. Late that night about two hundred fellows arrived from Crefeld, and Muller, finding he could not intimidate them, made such a noise that he was “choked off” by the commandant. We learnt that this place had been built as a Russian reprisal camp, but that lately Roumanian officers had been confined there. We were the first British these people had ever had to deal with. Hence their very bad manners!
Now in a camp of this sort it is very necessary to stand up for one’s rights when treated unfairly, otherwise the Germans soon forget that you have any rights; at the same time, if the treatment is fair, one does one’s best to avoid friction. The best instance of a result of the former treatment occurred the next afternoon. When some of the Crefeld party, who had been allowed to bring provisions with them, found that it was not possible to obtain hot water for making tea, some inventive person at once started a little fire of sticks outside my room. Almost immediately a N.C.O. leading half a dozen armed men appeared on the scene and told the offender in a dreadful voice to put the fire out at once. Instead of complying the culprit dodged into a barrack and out of a window on the opposite side and disappeared.When the Huns were able to comprehend the audacity of this move they had to put the fire out themselves. Half an hour later a sentry, seeing three fires burning in the same place, strolled over and quietly informed those concerned that fires were not allowed, and that unless they were put out he would have to make a report to the commandant. The result was that they were at once extinguished with the aid of sand. Our baggage did not arrive for nearly a week; then, instead of being given out, it was locked up for another five days before we received it all. During this time we had to live on the German food as best we could.
Accommodation.—Our quarters consisted of three long and two smaller badly made huts, divided into rooms containing, mostly, two or six officers. The mattresses were mostly dirty and hard, being stuffed with paper and cardboard, which formed sharp edges and lumps. The first week about ten of us found “creepy crawlies,” and shortly before our departure I succeeded in attracting some while in the camp hospital! The Huns provided us with the German equivalent for “Keating’s” after much agitation, after making us pay for it. The doctor said that the newly captured prisoners must have brought the creatures into the camp. That may have been true in a few cases, but evenso they are to blame for not making adequate arrangements to prevent it. We each received a tin basin, but the washing was all done at three pumps outside. All the drinking water was derived from this source, and had a strong and disagreeable taste. A few feet away from each pump was a stagnant pool into which the waste water flowed. I think it is reasonable to suppose that a good proportion of it, after filtering through the sand, was pumped up again. In spite of these trifles we were told that the water had been analysed and passed by the medical authorities. I suppose both the colour and flavour were only due to the presence of iron, in which case I have no doubt it was an excellent tonic. I should have liked to have seen the doctor’s face had he been made to swallow a glassful. I am thinking of forming a company for the purpose of building a hydro on the site of the old camp, so that every one may have an opportunity of enjoying perfect health by taking the Ströhen waters. I hope the reader will assist me by buying shares in this excellent concern. (A large cemetery will, of course, be necessary, but grave-digging should not prove to be expensive, the soil being very light!)
The safest and most comfortable place in the camp was the small hospital, which was under the care of a very decent corporal in aBrandenburg regiment. The dining and common rooms were in one long barrack, divided into two sections. At one end of the latter was a canteen of sorts, which ultimately improved considerably. The sanitary arrangements were most primitive, the breezes constantly reminding one of their inefficiency. For the first month the weather was glorious, and during the evening stroll round it was maddening to watch the red sun slowly sinking behind the distant woods to the westward, showing us the way to Holland and freedom. The journey by train would have been accomplished in a few hours under ordinary circumstances. It was almost incredible to think, though it was only too true, that a few strands of wire and some grey-clad sentries could keep us confined in this desert-like camp, containing neither grass nor trees, isolated from all the pleasures of summer. Whenever there was a wind we enjoyed a whirling sandstorm. Often I have seen it so thick as to temporarily obscure the further camp buildings. If we had only been allowed camels and facilities for exercising, we should soon have looked upon a journey across the Sahara as mere child’s play. After a victory (real or imaginary), or an anniversary, it was with very rebellious feelings that we watched the German flag fluttering in the breezes. I did not mind the coloured onequite so much, but it was almost more than I could stand to see the pale yellow flag, framing the treacherous scraggy black eagle, flying over my head. In one part of the camp there was just room for a game of tennis. Several classes were formed for learning languages, and indulging in “physical jerks” (culture), though I’m sorry to say I much preferred watching and jeering with the ever increasing majority.
Occasionally sports days were organised, which went off in style, the chief items being short races, jumping, cock-fighting, also a competition which necessitated each individual eating a sticky bun dangling from a tightly stretched string without using his hands. This may not sound much of a feat, but when one realises that the bun consists of a chunk of stale black bread exuding coarse treacle, the difficulty will be better understood. Several canaries had been brought along from the former camp. In one instance a man in the Flying Corps, possessing a sitting bird, carried her so carefully that she never left the eggs and eventually reared her young at Ströhen.
Latterly chip carving became the fashion, as it was then possible to obtain the necessary articles from a German firm through the canteen. Concerts were frequently held, and as the camp contained very considerabletalent, we had some really first class performances, after being allowed to hire a piano from the nearest town. One day a new lot of orderlies arrived and took up their quarters in a barrack separated from our part of the camp by some wire. Among their number was a private called Cheeseman, a born comedian, who used to get up sing-songs and sketches; the star turn, however, was a selection from his orchestra, which he used to conduct with a broomstick from an inverted bucket. The instruments were two mandolines, one banjo, one mandola, a tin whistle, an accordion, a rattle, a comb, and a lump of iron. Somehow the performers played in tune, but they always sent us into fits of laughter, and even amused the watching Huns. Although Cheeseman often disappeared into cells for several days, he was never really squashed and always reappeared with a new joke. I was lucky enough to receive a good assortment of flower seeds from home, including sunflowers, sweet peas, nasturtiums, etc.; these I immediately planted in a tiny museum-like garden, and tended carefully, in the hope that some day the plants would assume large enough proportions to enable me to believe temporarily on special occasions that I was actually amid the flowers of good old England. In my case the deception was fortunatelynot necessary, as I was destined to enjoy the real thing, though unfortunately in hospital.
Treatment.—The first roll calls, though unnecessarily long, were quite entertaining. They were conducted by a guards lieutenant with a pronounced limp, who went by the name of “Cork-leg.” Even when speaking of a matter of no importance his voice would become louder and louder until it threatened to reach a shrill scream. On one occasion when the interpreter was not present, some unoffending person asked the Hun a question in English. Cork-leg replied, with a dreadful roar, that we must understand that the language of the camp was German, and German only. Things were going a little too far, so every time the gentleman gave expression to his thoughts in too vehement a manner most of us whispered a long-drawn “Hush.” The parade being in square formation, when he turned suddenly to arrest the offender, he found those facing him wearing an air of injured innocence, while those in his rear continued the good work. This had the desired effect, and although it meant “stubenarrest” for several fellows, the officer soon realised what an ass he was making of himself and became almost normal, with the result that things went smoothly for a while.
Soon after our arrival, a fortnight, to becorrect, the newly captured infantry officers, numbering about fifty, were ordered to give up their steel helmets at a given roll call. This naturally went against the grain. The owners mostly destroyed the rubber padding and hid the helmets, resolving that at least they should not benefit the Hun. At the appointed time eight instead of fifty were surrendered to the officer on duty. On the morning of the twelfth of June a number of German soldiers set to work with poles and hooks to drag the pools for submerged helmets. By and by they succeeded in picking out quite a number of those steel fish, every additional one landed calling forth a subdued cheer from the onlookers. In the afternoon, having nothing to do but kill time, I strolled out of a barrack, my hands in my pockets, with no immediate objective in view. Outside a few Germans were still fishing for helmets, while half a dozen Britishers were lazily watching operations. After joining them for a minute or two I turned to walk over to another building. True, there were some sentries with fixed bayonets lounging about, but that was nothing unusual, for they might well be in charge of the orderlies who were working near by. I had not gone ten yards when a tall, unshavenLandsturmerswung round and barred my way. He told me with a snarl that I was notallowed there and motioned me back with his hand. I told him that I was not aware of any new order and only wished to go to the neighbouring building. Whereupon he repeated his words in a still more offensive tone, and brought his rifle to the ready. (Even a German sentry is supposed to be reasonably polite when addressing an officer prisoner for the first time, but this man was purposely rude.) I replied that if he addressed me as a British officer and not as a dog I should obey him at once, otherwise I should remain where I was. After a few more unintelligible threats he advanced, brandishing his weapon, at which I turned sideways to call to a German N.C.O. and protest against such treatment. The kindly sentry aimed a smashing blow at my left foot, which I was luckily able to partially deflect by a slight movement of my knee. Things were certainly quite disturbing, for the next instant he stuck the bayonet almost through my right thigh. The proceeding was not particularly pleasant, feeling very like a sharp burn, but I was almost too surprised to realise fully what had happened, so consequently remained standing where I was. Vaguely I realised that the sentry had withdrawn his bayonet for another thrust, this time evidently intended to enter my body. Glancing down I saw that my trouserleg was saturated and streaming with blood, which was even welling out of my shoe on to the ground, showing that an artery had been severed. Not being particularly partial to bayonet thrusts, I decided that I could now abandon my argument without loss of prestige. I succeeded in hobbling a few yards to the rear, at the same time holding the artery above the wound in an endeavour to check the flow of blood. This, however, did not prove very successful, the sand continuing to turn red behind me. Just as I was in the act of falling, a number of our fellows, seeing what had happened, rushed up and carried me hastily into the camp hospital, where a tourniquet was applied and the doctor sent for. The time was then a quarter-past three, and the doctor did not arrive till after seven o’clock. I rather fancy if an accident of that sort had occurred in an English prison camp containing over four hundred German officers, it would not be necessary to wait almost four hours before the arrival of a qualified doctor.
At the best of times a very tight tourniquet is distinctly uncomfortable. The medical orderly thinking that I should lose consciousness and seeing the commandant enter the room, explained the circumstances and asked if he might give me a little brandy.After due consideration and much chewing at the ragged end of his eternal cigar, he replied that as water would be given to a wounded German soldier, it was good enough for me. Though I pretended not to hear, these remarks impressed me considerably. The N.C.O. looked after me very well, and early next morning took me to the station in an ambulance on my way to Hanover Hospital. Two private soldiers acted as stretcher-bearers, with the N.C.O. in charge. When the train arrived it was found that the stretcher was too broad to go into a carriage, so I travelled in the luggage van, among trunks, bicycles and baskets of fish. The Germans were quite jolly and sang a few songs, while I, in a half dead condition, endeavoured to accompany them on my beloved mandoline. At Hanover I was dumped down at a Red Cross centre below the station to await the ambulance. Soon quite a pretty nurse (for a wonder) came up and inquired if I was English. I could not resist replying in German: “Yes, sister, I am one of thoseSchweinhund Englanders!” To my surprise she seemed quite embarrassed, and hastily answered me that they did not say thatnow. (Emphasis on thenow.) In the conveyance I lay beside a wounded German private, also bound for hospital. When my curiosity had broken the ice, hetold me that he had just returned from the Messines Ridge, where he had acquired a great respect for British artillery and mines (though he himself was a sapper). The Hanover hospitals which usually take in prisoners are Nos. 1 and 7; to my relief I was taken to No. 1, which is recognised as the best. I received practically the same treatment as the German patients, and occupied a room with three other British officers. Some of the food we received was quite good, a little fresh milk and butter, and one or two whitish rolls of bread, and, of course, the usual doubtful soups. Immediately outside the window was a large flowering acacia tree, looking delightfully shady and cool after Ströhen desert. Another luxury we sometimes enjoyed was strawberries, which the German orderly bought in large quantities, afterwards selling them to some of the doctors and nurses as well as ourselves. At frequent intervals a band outside played a very ordinary uninteresting dead march, announcing each time a German (usually a patient) had gone “West.” Soon after my arrival I saw a Zeppelin flying very low over the town. I was delighted and remarked to a Bosch that it was the first Zeppelin I had ever seen. He was quite indignant and told me that I ought to know that it was a Schutte-Lanz, a new type ofairship. My education must have been sadly neglected!
Bayonet wounds are, for several reasons, liable to become septic; mine, however, healed up remarkably quickly, saving me endless bother. In a fortnight I started back to the camp, accompanied by a N.C.O. and a private, who helped me slowly along. We went by train, without causing much interest. This was a good thing, for it is very hard to look dignified when feeling like nothing on earth, and looking as white as a sheet. Many of the small boys were dressed up as soldiers in one way or another, and I twice saw a small ragamuffin band with tins for kettle-drums. Just wouldn’t there be a fine scrap if a similar band of London children had suddenly rounded the corner! Personally, I would back the cockney spirit against any other. This was my second visit to Hanover, and on no occasion had I seen a motor other than the one ambulance car, though I heard two in the distance. Owing to the scarcity of rubber I was surprised at the number of bicycles present in the streets, but closer inspection proved that that difficulty had been overcome by a clever invention, by which the shock is lessened by an outer wooden rim held in position by strong springs, which are compressed as they take the weight. During the train journey my escort,as usual, drew my attention to the splendid way in which the Germans treated their prisoners by allowing them to travel second class. They simply would not believe that German officers in England always travelled first. The private, who owned a cigar factory in Hanover, became quite chatty and seemed very anxious to know if I thought the trade relationships between England and Germany would be the same as ever after the war. He was very surprised and, indeed, quite distressed when I told him that I thought there would be a considerable change—it seemed that the idea had never occurred to him before.
I was not sorry when the camp was reached and I entered the little camp hospital to remain there for another two weeks. Several fellows having escaped from the camp temporarily, the commandant got the sack. Many speculations concerning his probable successor were indulged in, and I think the general opinion of the camp was that the newcomer might be better, though he could not be worse. We soon discovered our mistake. His first appearance was not exactly promising. Two fellows while walking round the camp suddenly heard a stream of abuse violently directed at them, and looking up, they saw the commandant coming towards them through a gate in the wire, fairlybursting with rage. His unreasonable complaint was that he had not been saluted while entering his office outside the wire! The offenders were at once packed off to cells for two or three days. The next day a few Britishers arrived from another camp, and while they were waiting outside to be admitted, a small and orderly crowd collected on the inside to see if they could recognise any one, or exchange a few remarks. Being unable to walk much I watched the proceedings from the window of my room and was able to see everything that took place. Without any warning the mad commandant rushed out of a building and up to the wire, where he screamed at the little gathering like a madman, making violent motions to show that they were to go back. It is perfectly legitimate to stand in a group as long as every one behaves and no one touches the neutral zone wire. One must stand somewhere. In this case he had absolutely no right to order a move. The interpreter, who happened to be near, walked up and said that the commandant desired us to go away, whereupon the officers began to disperse, wishing to humour him. I was startled to see two soldiers come through the gate with fixed bayonets in a quick business-like way, to drive the fellows back faster, evidently by the commandant’s express orders. Theyounger of the two guards went straight up to an unoffending medical student, a Lieutenant Downes (S. Staffs.), who was then turning round, and pricked him in the stomach with his bayonet. To prevent the steady pressure making the slight wound worse, Downes seized the end of the rifle and, jerking the point out, swung it to the right, and then turning round walked quickly back. The sentry, after running past several other officers, overtook him and, to my horror, stuck the bayonet into his back. After continuing his walk for a few steps Downes collapsed and was at once carried into hospital, the next day being taken to Hanover. The wound was very serious, however; we received a message from the hospital a few days later stating that the bayonet had penetrated into one lung, but that he was getting on well and would probably soon recover.
The same sentry, in his eagerness to obey orders, tried to bayonet a Captain Woodhouse, but as his prey jumped back just in time, only succeeded in cutting the skin. By this time a large crowd had collected, which the sentries continued slowly forcing back, although they were then fifty yards from the wire. As the news spread the crowd became larger, but remained ominously quiet, the two Germans not seeming torealise the danger of their position. It is the worst feeling I know to watch a cowardly display of this sort and yet be able to do absolutely nothing. It only needed a spark to set everything in a blaze, which must have ended in the guard being turned out for machine-gun practice. Meanwhile, the news reached some Britishers who were half-way through a concert. By mutual consent it was at once broken up by the singing of the National Anthem. Every one outside at once stood to attention and heartily joined in the last few bars. It was the most impressive scene one could possibly imagine. I am sure that no one who had witnessed it would in after years, without feeling murder in his heart, watch a man belonging to the mongrel breed, which is not infrequently seen sitting down while everybody else is standing for the National Anthem, only being forced grudgingly to his feet by public opinion, even then not removing his hat unless it is knocked off. I am convinced that if Ramsay Macdonald and a few of his colleagues could have spent a week in a bad German prison camp they would be only too willing to instruct their misguided followers in singing “God Save the King,” in the spirit and way in which it should be and was sung at Ströhen on July 15th, 1917. The situation was saved.
Our senior officer took advantage of the pause at the end while we were still under control, standing at attention, and told us to separate at once, as he would do everything that was possible. At this Israel departed every man to his own tent. The major asked for an immediate interview with the commandant, but the German captain who had entered replied that that was unfortunately impossible as that officer had gone out at lunch time and would not return till late. It was a most “kolossal” lie, but I do not think that the captain should be saddled with it, as he was, doubtless, acting under instructions. Most of those present, including myself, would have sworn on oath that we had seen the commandant a few minutes before and that he had caused all the trouble. But then what is one to do? Of course the usual complaints went (or rather were supposed to go) to higher authority (ambassadors and the like), but no satisfaction was obtained. It seems not unlikely that they all found their way into the office waste-paper basket by the most direct route.
Again, a few days later about a dozen fellows were watching a party of Germans, under aFeldwebelPohlman, digging up an old tunnel which had fallen in near the wire. Everything was quiet and Pohlmanwas even talking naturally with one of our number, when I noticed him turn and speak a few words to the sergeant of the guard, who turned and entered the guardroom, evidently in a hurry. Knowing that this Pohlman, in spite of his oily manner and smug appearance, was a Hun in every sense of the word, I kept my weather eye open, warned the others and strolled off. A few seconds later four of the worst sentries in the place, having entered the camp unobserved, came running round the corner of a shed, their bayonets drawn back for thrusting, obviously having received orders that the next victim had to be finished off, the object, I suppose, being either to teach us a lesson or cause a mutiny. Some one shouted a warning to three fellows who were standing talking to each other unconscious of their danger, but before they had time to realise their predicament the sentries were on them. The Huns singled out a Captain Wilson (R.F.C.), and before he could get away, surrounded him, while one villainous-looking little Hun lunged straight at him. By a quick movement Wilson avoided the thrust and succeeded in breaking away, the bayonet passing through his clothes. The guard continued to press every one back into the centre of the camp, very serious trouble again only just being avoided.
Another incident of this sort happened a few days later, when to our surprise some strong sherry arrived at the canteen, and was soon bought up by the thirsty prisoners. I think there was another object in view, as well as a desire to make money. Towards evening some Englishmen were sitting near the wire, close to where the sentry who had assaulted Downes was stationed. One of the fellows, feeling a little cheerful, amused himself by alluding to the bravery of the act. At the worst this was only a case calling for a little solitary confinement. I suppose the sentry passed the word along to the guardroom, for soon three sentries passed through the camp, metaphorically whetting their bayonets, going towards the scene of the disturbance. Before reaching it they unslung their rifles and fixed their bayonets, doubled round the corner of the building, expecting to surprise the unfortunate Englander. But to their disgust they only found empty chairs and returned very dejected.
After this episode we had a dance in the dining-room, several fellows making up into the most charming girls, and did our best to forget our unpleasant surroundings. At ten o’clock, when we had gone to our barracks, according to the rules, Pohlman conducted an armed party of half a dozen Huns withfixed bayonets round the huts and every part of the camp, but failed to find the excuse he was longing for. Now what about the Cambrai officer’s question, “Why do you call us Huns?”Why, indeed?
The German captain nearly always took roll call. Though fairly harmless, he was quite mad. He seldom brought an interpreter on parade and made long speeches and read orders to us, all in German, the great majority, of course, not understanding a single word! One day we heard the new commandant was coming on parade for the first time that evening, so therefore looked forward to some fun. When the time for the roll call arrived we were inspected as usual, and were standing waiting, when the little captain suddenly drew himself up to his full height, and screamed out: “Augen Rechts—Augen Links—Gerade Aus.” As we were standing in three sides of a square it was an order to make every one face the commandant with a martial air. The net result of this “Double Dutch” was that everyone broke into an amused smile, which increased almost to hysterics when we caught sight of the recipient of this honour. The commandant was a tall, doddery, antediluvian Prussian colonel, with long grey moustaches, the very image of the Monkey Brand advertisement, only perhaps not quite so goodlooking. Why he did not fall over his trailing scabbard in every step remains a mystery to this day.
There was another curious little trick the captain sometimes indulged in. In the middle of delivering a tirade he would suddenly point to heaven with a dramatic gesture, as if to prove the truth of a recent statement by invoking the Kaiser’s God. Perhaps some day he will learn that the popular spirit of Germany lives not above but very far below.
Soon after our arrival the prison was enlarged, as it always has to be when the camp becomes British. Fellows were often sent there for an offence about which they had never heard, without being able to say one word in self defence. In about two months I believe nearly half the camp had been in “clink.” Until latterly it was forbidden to open windows at night, but being English we took the law into our own hands and continued opening the windows, refusing to be deprived of fresh air in the stifling heat. This naturally resulted in more prison, which at first relieved and then increased the monotony. Though it is hardly credible, our colonel had to carry out a sentence of three days “stubenarrest” for losing his poker! About this time an Australian was put into prison for a trivial offence whichhad been committed by some one else, and did not even receive his sentence for three whole weeks!
While in “jug” in this camp we were not allowed parcels, writing materials, books or smokes. We complained about this to a general who inspected the camp later; he expressed surprise at this state of affairs and had things partially rectified. For about two months all cigars and cigarettes received in parcels were stopped, the only reason given being that in some cases they had contained poison for destroying cattle. Not only were chances of destroying cattle exceedingly small, but we offered to smoke any cigarette they chose to give us from our parcels to prove the falsity of the charge.
By an agreement between the Governments those serving terms of imprisonment for offences committed before the 4th of August, 1917, were released, a great number of the gaol-birds being sent to Ströhen. Residing in prison was a captain who made a hobby of being court-martialled. Under this new ruling he was taken out of cells for a few days, only to be put back to await trial for the trumped-up charge of having poison tablets on his person when recaptured after his last escape. I believe the only tablets he carried were either for purifying water, or Horlick’s malted milk. Every one recapturedwhen trying to escape in the late winter of 1916 or the following spring received a sentence of five months’ imprisonment, a fortnight the original punishment, and the remainder as a supposed reprisal for the sentence given to escaping Germans in England.
The food given us was very bad indeed, though the list must have looked quite nice on paper. Apart from the eternal and loathsome gherkins, of which no mention was made, it asserted that we received fish twice a week! The Tuesday fish was of a dried variety, and had such a delicious smell when cooked that it was impossible to enter the dining-room when it was on the prowl! While that on Friday consisted of heaps of old mussels containing quantities of sand and young pebbles, known amongst ourselves as those —— barnacles, scraped from the ships at Kiel. The whole time I was there I never once had an opportunity of buying any fresh fruit, though it was summer time and we could have paid good prices. The only result of my bayoneting episode was that the sentry was congratulated, and I was warned for a court-martial! When a staff captain arrived from Hanover to collect the evidence for the approaching trials, quite a cheery little crowd of accused officers were awaiting him.Several of them were to appear on two or three charges, and three R.F.C. officers were to be tried for dropping leaflets in the German lines. I believe it came to nothing in the end, as there was not enough evidence to convict them. Captain Scholtz and Lieutenant Wookey do not seem to have been so lucky. When my turn came, several German witnesses were produced who swore that after being struck on the foot with the butt, I had jumped forward to seize the rifle, asserting that the sentry had only acted in self-defence. (Such a truthful race!) When the captain was taking down my statement, we frequently got off the subject altogether. All of a sudden he would assert that the English had started the war and ask me the reason for their doing so. Thoroughly roused, I would reply that it was nonsense and he must know it. Then ensued an amusing but fiery argument about the neutrality of Belgium, the use of native troops, and frightfulness in general. His plea was that poor little unoffending Germany was only standing up for herself against a set of blood-thirsty enemies who wished to crush her. Needless to say, I did not feel much like sympathising. When we finally got back to business, all particulars were taken as a matter of form, my slaughterer’s name and address being taken down. Before mydeparture I managed to get a glimpse of it when the captain was out of the room. I do not suffer from loss of memory!
The all-absorbing problem of camp life is escaping. Up to this time half a dozen fellows had succeeded in getting away from the camp, but were afterwards recaptured. I will endeavour to give an outline of the several attempts and the difficulties to be overcome, which must of necessity be very curtailed, this book not being originally written for the benefit of the “Bosch.” The most usual way is to cut the wire, but where sentries are numerous the undertaking is both difficult and dangerous. It is most natural to try stunts of the sort under cover of darkness. At this camp, however, the paraffin arc lamps were particularly brilliant, and when star-gazing on several occasions I have seen rats and mice scuttle across the white sand some distance away. Though storms often raged during the day, the wind almost invariably blew itself out towards night, leaving a dead calm, broken only by the tramp of sentries or the distant rattling hum of a nightjar. It is a brave man who, having determined this mode of exit, leaves his hut when others are sleeping, and vanishes. Presently, if he gets safely across the intervening ground, the faint yet feverish snipping of wire-cutters is heard, each time beingfollowed perhaps by a slight “ping” as the strained wire separates. The ensuing silence is almost heart-breaking, for in contrast something else may at any instant be increasing its tension, a sentry’s trigger-finger. One stormy night, when in hospital, I had reason to believe that an officer would make an attempt in that part of the camp at a given hour, so had an excellent chance of watching operations, which was not wasted. I went to the window and settled down for a long wait. Outside it was still raining, the sentries being in their boxes. A little before the time I caught sight of a dark figure which clambered out of the orderlies’ hut and crawled into the neutral zone up to the outside wire, which he lay parallel to and commenced to cut. To my surprise, another figure joined him from the hut and lay there waiting; this was an orderly who had decided to join at the last instant. In about one and a half minutes a large enough gap had been cut, and the adventurers crawled through it, and were preparing to make a dash into the darkness when a sentry spotted them and stepped out of his box. Having burned their boats, off they went. The sentry ran a few steps, then, stopping abruptly, raised his rifle and fired. It was an anxious moment for the onlookers; the fugitives already knew the result, while, asyet, we did not. However, to our relief, the ghost-like figures continued their flight until they were swallowed up in the darkness, and the reflection of the artificial light on their wet rain-coats became too weak to give away their position. In their anxiety to leave the camp behind they tended to separate, but both fell headlong into a deep ditch, where they met again. In their first dash one of them dropped most of the provisions, which the Germans discovered and brought back to the camp in triumph. Six days afterwards they were recaptured, thirty kilometres from the border. Two officers cut the wire in broad daylight, when the nearest sentry was busy opening a gate admitting some orderlies. They left the camp by way of a ditch without being seen, crawling as they had never crawled before, their heads showing above the level of the fields, like two wobbling cabbages going for a hurried evening stroll. Their success was short-lived, for, only an hour afterwards, they were spotted and chased by some farmers, being finally brought to a stop by a man with a shot-gun. Another couple left the camp by the following ingenious method. A captain, who spoke German like a native, dressed up in the clothes of a Hun private (somehow acquired). Some of the essential things were missing, and had been manufactured in secret, such as a cap and apainted wooden bayonet, with a lovely coloured tassel. When everything was ready, about ten o’clock one morning, a perfectly good German private marched an R.F.C. lieutenant, disguised as an orderly, who carried two buckets (containing their kit), up to a gate in the wire, which he rattled to signify that it must be unlocked immediately. The sentry came along, unlocked the gate, and let him out. They proceeded to the road, which they followed for a short distance. That afternoon, while crossing a wild bit of country, they had the misfortune to be recaptured by a shooting party, being first completely surrounded by the beaters. Two other officers got out separately in an ingenious way, the first being recaptured crossing a bridge over the Ems, quite near Holland; the second lost direction, and was retaken four days after, having got thoroughly lost. One unlucky person was collared just outside the wire, dressed as an orderly, and was taken straight to prison to enjoy a period of perfect rest!