A SWISS AND A BELGIAN
One of the interned cases which is likely to be heard of is that of
Mr. Hintermann, a subject of Switzerland. In referring to the case in
the course of a narrative of this kind it is obviously necessary to
maintain a certain amount of reserve and not to make public details
which might inopportunely throw too much light on the actions of
certain officials who were then in the employ of the Department of
Foreign Affairs for Switzerland. Mr. Hintermann was a Swiss by birth,
and although he had been much abroad he maintained his nationality;
that is to say, he never became a naturalized subject of any other
country. He resided in London with his family and was connected with
a very important firm in England’s metropolis. He went to Switzerland
during the summer of 1915, and while in that country projected a trip
to Berlin. Before he could go there he had to obtain a passport signed
by the German Minister at Berne. This was done without the least
difficulty, though his departure was delayed for a few days by someone
in the German Minister’s office.
[Illustration: M. M. MOORE, ETLINGER, DR. BELAND, HINTERMAN
Dr. Beland (cross) and fellow-prisoners during internment]
Mr. Hintermann finally left Switzerland, but he was arrested by two
soldiers at the first station he reached after crossing the frontier
on his way to Berlin. On being taken into the stationmaster’s office
Mr. Hintermann saw on the agent’s desk a despatch from Switzerland
containing a direct reference to himself. He was then taken under
escort to Berlin and lodged in the jail where I was a prisoner. On the
door of his cell was written these words: “H. Hintermann, Englander.”
It did not take long for Mr. Hintermann to delete the word “Englander”
and substitute for it the word “Swiss.” Someone immediately changed
the word back again. This went on for some time. A few hours after
Mr. Hintermann would write “Swiss” on the card, the word would be
mysteriously erased, and “Englander” written again in its place.
I knew Mr. Hintermann intimately. I knew that he had never been
naturalized while in England, but I think the Swiss Government and
the German Government were too easily persuaded that he had become a
naturalized British subject. I am not at liberty to say at this moment
by what process the two Governments were placed under this false
impression, but I can affirm that during the three years I knew Mr.
Hintermann he never once ceased to urge his right to liberty as the
subject of a neutral country. Over and over again the two Governments
were called upon by him to prove that he was a British subject, but
the only reply he received was a categorical statement from the Swiss
Legation in Berlin that the Department of Foreign Affairs at Berlin
was well informed on this subject and had documentary proof that Mr.
Hintermann had been naturalized in England. Mr. Hintermann, on his
side, insisted with vehemence that these documents, if they existed,
were forgeries.
I am not allowed to tell more, but it is certain that the unwarranted
internment of one of the best and most honorable men I ever met ended
only with the armistice. It caused him incalculable damages in his
affairs and great injury to his health. I am convinced that the victim
of this denial to justice will seek redress somehow, and that the
trials and tribulations he had to undergo will reverberate now that the
war is practically ended.
Mr. Hintermann was a man of very high character. He was greatly
esteemed by all the prisoners. Towards the more needy he showed great
charity and alleviated numberless cases of suffering. Speaking German,
French, and English with equal fluency, he was able to communicate
with the prisoners of these nationalities, and in this way he came to
realize their distress and sufferings and was thus the better able to
apply what remedies were within his reach. All who knew him during his
imprisonment will ever have a pleasant remembrance of the man, and a
deep appreciation of his invariable generosity and kindness of heart.
The subject of the deportation of Belgians was the main topic of
discussion in the newspapers for some time and I cannot add anything
new on the subject. It was with manifest reluctance that the German
press finally admitted that Belgians had been deported, and were then
in Germany. The accomplishment, however, was so palpable that denial
was at last rendered impossible.
We received at one time and another a great number of these unfortunate
people into our jail. They were, for the most part, Belgian subjects
who had refused to work for the Germans. There were some who, after
accepting the burden of hard labor forced upon them in the hope that
in this way they might find some relief from the terrible situation
that otherwise threatened them at Guben camp, at last rebelled against
their task and the insufficiency of food. It was then that they were
brought to the Stadtvogtei. On one occasion there were no fewer than
twenty-four of these prisoners amongst us, and towards them the British
prisoners always showed a practical sympathy.
I cannot leave this subject without mentioning one notable case. It
was that of a Belgian named Edouard Werner. He was a man twenty-five
or twenty-six years of age, and of remarkable physique–tall, well
proportioned, and very strong. He lived in Antwerp before war was
declared, and was engaged in that city in the offices of the Canadian
Pacific Railway Company. His parents were Germans, but himself born in
Antwerp, he decided, when he attained the age of eighteen years, to
become a naturalized Belgian subject. He submitted to the requirements
of the military laws of the country, but was exempted from service in
the army and had in his possession papers to this effect.
Antwerp, it will be recalled, was occupied by the enemy on October 10,
1914, and a few months afterwards Werner received notice to report
to the German authorities in the military district of Westphalia.
He refused to obey this order in spite of the insistence of his aged
mother, who, a German herself, wished to see her son join the ranks
of the German army. Two months afterwards a second notice was served
on the young man reiterating the command to report for duty. Werner
persisted in his refusal to obey, again in spite of his mother’s
entreaties. Then a final notification was received that unless he
complied vigorous measures would be taken against him. More in
obedience to the wishes of his mother than in fear of the execution
of the German threats Werner duly reported himself as commanded. He
took with him his papers of identification and other documents showing
that he was a Belgian subject, and that he had complied with the
requirements of the military laws of Belgium. He was subjected to a
severe examination in Westphalia.
“Why did you not report sooner?” he was asked.
“Because I am a Belgian subject,” he answered.
“It is false; it is false. You are a German–your parents both are
Germans,” he was told.
“I do not deny that my father and mother are Germans,” Werner said,
“but for myself I have chosen to become naturalized as a Belgian and I
have in my possession documentary proof of this assertion.”
The examining officer asked to be allowed to see the documents. When
they were produced the officer rejected the proof and refused to
consider the young man a Belgian subject. Werner was told that from
that moment he must consider himself enrolled in the German army and
hold himself in readiness to leave immediately for Berlin. Accordingly
he was sent to the German capital, where he was lodged in the barracks
of the famous Alexander Regiment, in which no soldier is accepted
unless he is at least six feet tall. Werner’s height was six feet two
inches. He was put in uniform and started to undergo training. As he
spoke French, German and Flemish fluently, he was a little later given
employment in the office of the sergeant-major, who assigned him to
the work of correspondence and translating. He became more or less
popular among the officers and non-commissioned officers who believed
that he had become quite converted to German ideas. One day Werner
applied for leave of absence in order that he might visit his mother at
Antwerp; the major replied that it would be quite impossible to grant
him leave of absence to go into Belgium, but if he had relatives in
Germany he would readily be granted leave to visit them. Werner said he
had an aunt residing at Hamburg, and he was granted three days’ leave
to go and visit her.
It was a fête-day and Werner was to leave Berlin in the evening. In
the afternoon, attired in gala uniform and wearing the plume-helmet,
he accompanied one of his comrades on a tour through the city. He
exhibited his holiday permit to his companion, at the same time
expressing regret that it was not valid for Antwerp. His comrade took
the permit from his hands, walked away with it from the table at which
they were drinking beer, and returned a few minutes later with the
permit now reading that it was to allow the bearer to go to Antwerp
instead of to Hamburg.
Delighted by his good fortune, Werner resolved to leave by the
first train for Antwerp. At Cologne, and more particularly at
Aix-la-Chapelle, the soldiers had to have their travelling permits
checked. Now, it was against the military rules of the day to travel in
gala uniform, such as young Werner was wearing, except under special
circumstances. At Cologne and again at Aix-la-Chapelle astonishment was
expressed by the officials when they saw Werner in full dress. He was
asked for an explanation.
“Well,” he replied, “I am going to visit my mother and I wish to give
her a pleasurable surprise, as she has never seen me in military
uniform.” He was allowed to continue his journey, and at Antwerp his
mother told him with pride that he looked more handsome than she had
ever seen him look before.
Werner then conceived the project–perhaps he had carried the idea in
his mind from the outset–to change his uniform for a suit of mufti
and escape into Holland. In order to do this he had to obtain the
co-operation of one of his cousins. The plan was completed; civilian
clothing was obtained; he made a parcel of his grenadier’s uniform and
directed it to the barracks of the Alexander Regiment in Berlin. Then
in the evening he and his cousin walked in the direction of Capellen,
from which point they hoped to be able to cross the frontier during the
night.
Here, however, they fell into a trap. A man, who afterwards turned
out to be a spy in the service of the Germans, directed them to a
certain coffee-house, where he said they would find a reliable man who
would guide them safely across the border. At the coffee-house the
two cousins were advised to spend the night at the mayor’s residence
and hold themselves in readiness to cross the frontier early the next
morning. This was the trap which caught them. The mayor’s house was
occupied by German officers–a fact of which Werner and his companion
were equally ignorant. Escape now was hopeless. They were held as
prisoners until next day, when they were searched and questioned. When
it was ascertained that they wished to cross into Holland they were
taken back to Antwerp and arraigned before the Kommandantur. Werner’s
cousin passed through the ordeal easily enough and he was liberated.
Werner hoped that his fate would be equally happy. His hopes, however,
were speedily dashed to the ground. When he gave his name the officer
pondered a minute, then he spoke to someone over the telephone and,
turning to Werner, asked abruptly:
“Are you not Edouard Werner?”
“Yes.”
“Are you not a deserter?”
“No.”
“But did you not belong to a regiment in Berlin?”
“Yes.”
“Then how do you explain your presence here, and in civilian clothes?”
Without waiting for a reply, the officer, fuming with rage, and in
a voice which made the attendants tremble, ordered Werner to prison.
Thence he was arraigned before the German Police Commissioner, who,
threatening the most dire punishment, said to the prisoner in an aside:
“You will now know what it is to be dealt with by the Prussian military
authority. I would not give much for your skin, young man.”
Werner was taken back to prison and a few days later transferred
to Berlin. Here he was thrown into a dungeon, and the next morning
appeared before the regiment major–the officer who had in the first
instance given him a permit to go to Hamburg. This man nearly choked
with rage when he saw the prisoner.
“Take him from my sight; take him from my sight,” he repeated.
Werner was taken away, was put back into uniform, and only then would
the major consent to see him again. On this occasion he once more gave
way to a fit of passion. He banged the table with his fist and menaced
Werner with all kinds of torture, going so far as to threaten to have
him executed. Once he paused in his wrath to ask what had become of the
uniform Werner wore when he went away.
“I sent it back to barracks here,” replied Werner.
“It’s a lie–a lie,” roared the major.
“Well,” insisted the prisoner, “it is easy to prove if my statement
is a lie. Will you be kind enough to inquire if a parcel in which I
wrapped the uniform at Antwerp and directed here has been received?”
Inquiry promptly revealed the fact that the package in question was
received at barracks a few weeks previously. The prisoner was kept
in jail pending trial by court martial. He refused the offer which
was made of counsel to defend him, and when duly brought before his
military judges he was asked what he had to say before sentence was
passed upon him. He replied, in effect, as follows:
“I am a Belgian, and it was impossible for me conscientiously to take
up arms against my country. When the first opportunity presented
itself I returned to my country. I did not desert the German army, but
merely went back to my country from which I had been taken by force
and contrary to international law. In my opinion, to carry arms and
fight for Germany against my own countrymen would be an act of treason.
I have done nothing but act in accordance with the promptings of my
conscience. That is my plea. Do with me as you wish.”
In a consultation between the officers one of them was overheard to
say, “We ought not to give him more than fifteen years’ imprisonment.”
Werner was taken back to his dungeon where he awaited sentence, but
no sentence was announced to him–whatever judgment was passed he was
never told what it was. But after a few weeks waiting he was taken
from the dungeon and lodged in the Stadtvogtei without an explanation
being given to him in any way. It was here that we became acquainted.
It was here that he related to me his story, which appears to me to be
sufficiently interesting to be related.
Werner remained in this jail for five or six months. At the end of that
time he was urged to enter the German army. He peremptorily refused,
and finally received an official document from the highest military
tribunal exonerating him from the charge of being a deserter. We
deliberated together on the chances of the recovery of his liberty, and
a few days afterwards he was transferred to Holzminden. A Frenchman who
was subsequently brought from this place to our prison informed us, in
answer to our inquiries, that Werner had evaded the vigilance of the
sentries and escaped into Holland, whence he had crossed to England,
and a postal card recently received announced that he had joined the
Belgian army and was looking forward to “settling some of his accounts
with the Hun!”