I have no wish to paint the picture in lurid colors, yet I wish some
of our pro-Germans and "pacifists" could have had a taste of that
journey to Germany. Over seventy of us were packed together in one
cattle-truck, occasionally kicked or prodded with bayonets by the
gentle exponents of _Kultur_. Food? We were shown loaves of bread, we
were asked to look at buckets of water--but these things were not for
us; they were merely exhibited to torture us, a typical example of
German spite. For three days and three nights we were huddled in that
truck "Black Hole" on wheels. Not all of us reached Germany alive.
As for myself, I was too hard to kill, too full of hate and
detestation of my captors to go under without a struggle, and during
the seven-kilometre tramp from the station to the "Münster Laager" I
registered a mental vow that "this child" was going to make a bid for
freedom at the first opportunity. As we left the station the civil
population, who were none too delicate in their attentions, sang
"Deutschland über Alles." And they seemed to think it was true, too.
This, however, was only on a par with the arrogance we encountered in
the Laager. The guard told us how German hosts had invaded England--or
were going to do it in two months; and of how the All-Highest War Lord,
the Kaiser, was to have his Christmas dinner at Buckingham Palace. The
ignorance of some of these "educated" Huns was colossal, and you will
perhaps scarcely credit the fact that I have been asked by Germans
whether it was possible to get all the way to England by train!
Soon after we got into camp we begged an officer to give us water,
but with a contemptuous sneer he advised us to go to England for it.
Battens of straw, laid on bare boards, were our beds, and there was
no covering. With so many French, English, and Russians as prisoners,
I can tell you it looked rather hopeless just then for the Allies'
chances of victory. Those were the early days, remember, when the
Germans seemed to be winning all along the line, and when every success
made them all the more brutal.
Right through the winter of 1914-15 food was scarce and clothing scant,
and punishment more liberal than either. For a paltry offence I was
tied to a post, six hours at a stretch, for ten days, while for telling
a brutal German what I thought of him I was put into a dark cell for
nine days. This particular Hun had knocked down and kicked a Norfolker,
who then went for him with his shovel. The Englishman was marched
off--to what fate I am ignorant.
A piece of black bread and a cup of coffee was our customary breakfast,
and for dinner we had each a pint of soup which got steadily worse as
the winter advanced. Six pounds of bread served ten men for a day, and
occasionally--it was like an angel's visit--we had a bit of beef or
sausage. I spent the first twelve months of my imprisonment between
Redbarn, Münster, and Sennelager, often going out in charge of working
parties, for a non-commissioned officer doesn't actually labor except
of his own free will. I cudgelled my brains until my head ached in
trying to devise plans to escape, but so far had seen no opportunity.
At the Münster camp, where I again found myself permanently lodged
in September, 1915, I slept in a big wooden shed which accommodated
two hundred of us. Right round the camp, at a height of eight yards,
ran a fence of "live" electric wire. To attempt to pass through this
meant certain death. I had no wish to try electrocution as a means of
suicide, although it would have been speedier and less irritating to
the temper than the kicks and cuffs and manifestations of spitefulness
to which we were all liable. On the outer side of the wire perambulated
the sentries. What chance had a prisoner to escape?
My straw bed was placed in a far corner of the "little wooden hut" to
which I have referred. At last a happy thought occurred to me. I would
burrow my way from the hut to the outer world, or, in other words,
beyond the deadly wire! This, however, was easier said than done, but
after a time I commandeered a shovel and surreptitiously removed a
piece of board from one of the rafters. Possessed of these implements,
which I carefully hid, I waited until all was quiet and the tired sons
of England, Russia, and France were fast asleep. Then, raising two
or three boards beneath my heap of straw, I started upon a voyage of
discovery.