MEALS À LA CARTE
The manner in which war prisoners and interned civilians were fed and
treated in Germany gave rise, as we all know, to bitter complaints
and more bitter controversies in the newspaper press of the allied
countries. The repeated complaints of the prisoners themselves, in
their letters to friends in Great Britain, and through the United
States Embassy is a matter of record. Let me relate an incident which
is not lacking in interest: Among the Englishmen who were interned
at the Stadtvogtei was a Mr. F. T. Moore, civil engineer, who was in
Luxemburg when war was declared. He was captured when that principality
was overrun by the German troops, and subsequently sent to Treve. After
several months’ solitary confinement he was court-martialed on a charge
of espionage. He was condemned to the prison at Berlin, and here we
met and became friends. At the outset Mr. Moore wrote a post-card
to his wife in England telling her the condition of his health and
incidentally referring to the kind of food that was supplied to us. His
description was something of a masterpiece. “The food we are getting
here,” he wrote, “is unspeakable. It is enough to keep a man from
dying, but it is not sufficient to keep a man alive.”
It required, one may readily imagine, a certain courage to send such
a statement through the mail. On the following day the censor himself
called at the jail, and carried the card in question direct to Mr.
Moore’s cell. It was represented that Mr. Moore had committed a grave
imprudence in writing to England in this manner, and when Mr. Moore
submitted that there was no exaggeration, that it was the truth and
nothing but the truth, the censor retorted that if Germany did not
provide more substantial and better food for her prisoners it was due
solely to the British blockade.
The jail’s menu as I knew it during the three years I was interned
varied very little. It consisted of one piece of black bread weighing
eight ounces, distributed each morning at eight o’clock. At eleven a.m.
we were served with what was ridiculously termed the “mittag essen,”
that is to say, “the mid-day meal.” It consisted of what they were
pleased to call porridge or soup. At five o’clock in the afternoon the
acting-officer would return, this time accompanied by two Poles, who
would distribute another variety of soup. There is soup “and” soup. The
liquid which they served to us did not belong to the category of real
soup. The ingredients were varied, generally they consisted of turnips,
cabbage, and sometimes a few beans. It was never good, but sometimes it
was worse than others. Generally it was bad in the morning and always
worse at the afternoon serving. Apparently, the Poles suffered more
than we did. On many an occasion one of these unfortunate men has come
and begged a biscuit or a piece of bread from me.
“The soup we get,” he would say, “is nothing but colored water.”
I myself never ventured to taste the afternoon soup. The color and
odor were alike too repulsive. I believe it was rejected by all the
Englishmen interned here.
In 1915 the economic conditions of Germany continued relatively
favorable. There was, apparently, nothing alarming in the situation.
Prisoners were permitted to give orders once each day for provisions of
all kinds, and the orders would be filled to the extent the prisoner
had money to pay for the same. But early in 1916 a significant change
took place. The citizens were then placed upon strict rations, and in
March notices were posted in the corridors of the jail to the effect
that efforts to obtain victuals from outside were forbidden. The menu I
have described thenceforward became inevitable for each and every one
of us.
I at once communicated with the authorities in England–more
particularly with Sir George Perley, Canadian High Commissioner in
London, telling them of the situation to which we were reduced as
regarded food. But we were restricted to such abbreviated formula that
it was impossible to represent the situation as it actually existed–the
situation, that is to say, of relative famine. Exceeding care had to
be taken, or our letters would never have passed the censor. We each
adopted what seemed to be the best measures in the circumstances to
obtain relief from the painfully meagre prison fare. The postal service
was, not unnaturally, very uncertain and irregular between the two
countries. We entertained the hope, however, that at the end of three
weeks, at the latest, foodstuffs would reach us from England. But it
was three months ere the welcome parcels containing the much needed
provisions were delivered at the jail. During that period of waiting we
were able to realize something of the hunger the poor Poles suffered at
all times, for with very few exceptions they were deprived of outside
relief. It would require many volumes to faithfully relate the tortures
of hunger these interned Poles went through. Many times I saw one of
their number delve into a garbage can and extract therefrom potato
peelings that had been cast there. The Poles would put salt upon the
peelings and devour them with avidity.
Then, at about this time, a notice was posted on the wall in the little
triangular yard notifying all whom it might concern that henceforth
potato peelings must be deposited in a receptacle placed at the end
of the corridor. The peelings, we were informed, now had a special
value, and they were to be guarded as feed for the cattle, more
particularly the cows. On the day this notice appeared, five or six of
us–all British prisoners–were engaged in the kitchen cell preparing
a stew. Suddenly the sergeant-major appeared in our midst. He was a
quick-moving, nervous man; he invariably talked in a loud voice and
gesticulated vehemently.
“Have you read the notice that has just been posted up?” he demanded.
“From now on you will not be allowed to throw away the potato peelings,
as you have been in the habit of doing. Fodder for the cattle has
become very scarce and you must guard the potato peelings, all of
you, and deposit them in the receptacle you will find placed for that
purpose at the end of the corridor.”
The sergeant-major waited for a reply to, or a comment upon, the new
order, but we kept our interest concentrated on the dishes in front
of us and remained mute. He glared at the group and said: “Understand
me, gentlemen; understand me well, for I hope you will not force me to
inflict punishment upon you through disobedience of the new rule.”
Another period of silence followed and then one of the company stepped
forward. He certainly had a keen sense of humor, and was not devoid of
courage. “Mr. Sergeant-Major,” he said, “I beg your pardon, but I eat
the peelings from all the potatoes I receive.”
We choked back the laughter the incident provoked, and the
sergeant-major, at a loss to interpret the man’s observation, looked
first at one and then another. But we maintained our gravity, and,
apparently undecided whether to laugh himself at the joke or to give
vent to wrath the sergeant-major turned on his heel and walked from the
cell. I wonder–did he understand?
From June, 1916, to the date of my liberation, I received, in
quantities just sufficient, provisions which were regularly forwarded
to me from England, and sometimes from Canada. I have frequently been
asked if the parcels which were directed to me from time to time
arrived at their destination? To this I am able to reply, “Yes, in a
general way.” It has been proved that the postal employés of Germany
committed fewer thefts than were committed on the railways. I would
sometimes receive a parcel which had been opened, and from which some
of the contents had been extracted. Some parcels that I know were sent
never reached me. It was easy for us to check the delivery of parcels
as each contained a number.
Individual prisoners sometimes received parcels that had been sent
express by railway. As a rule they were larger than could be sent
through the postal service, and only very rarely did these parcels
reach their destination whole. Almost every time they had been broken
open and four, five or six pounds of the contents were missing.
Invariably it was a case of theft. It may not be inopportune to state
here that in 1917 some of the German newspapers reported that claims
against the German express companies for loss aggregated thirty-five
million marks, whilst in the preceding year these claims amounted to
only four or five million marks. This is evidence that there was an
enormous increase in the number and extent of the robberies in 1917.
In 1916, we obtained permission from the inspector of prisons to place
a gas stove in one of the cells, and here between eleven o’clock and
noon one might see the prisoners of British nationality gather for the
purpose of cooking their mid-day meal. The management of this kitchen
was confided to one man of our choice and each prisoner making use of
the stove contributed a small sum of money towards the cost of the
gas. There was an overseer named to guard against the waste of gas.
He kept a quantity of hot water constantly on hand for the use of the
prisoners. The water was sold at the rate of one pfennig per quart. The
Polish prisoners, in the winter months especially, would frequently
come to buy hot water. The poor fellows had to resort to drinking
hot water to stimulate circulation in their empty stomachs. Every
British prisoner was besieged in his cell every day by beggars. The
Poles in turn besought bread to eat. I was a witness every day of the
never-failing generosity of British captives and there must be to-day
thousands of Poles who, after passing through this jail, retain an
imperishable memory of the charity and compassion of men who, fortunate
in receiving victuals from outside, cheerfully shared them with fellow
prisoners less fortunate. These Poles, especially, now that they are
free to return to their own devastated country, must have nothing but
words of praise for those who did all they possibly could in very dire
circumstances to alleviate their sufferings and hardships.
Naturally, it was impossible to attend to more than the most urgent
needs of anyone. There were, on an average, from ten to fifteen
British subjects confined at one time in this cell, while at no time
were there ever fewer than one hundred and fifty Poles. The British
authorities at Ruhleben camp deserve a special word of praise for the
never-failing interest they showed towards not only the prisoners of
British nationality in Stadtvogtei jail but also towards the Poles, and
the deported Belgians particularly. During the time I was at the head
of the relief committee of the jail I received on many an occasion very
large cases of biscuits and other provisions for distribution amongst
the most needy of all subjects under confinement. I had as an assistant
in this work, Mr. Hinterman, a Swiss, to whom I shall have occasion to
refer subsequently.