COMMITTED TO WESEL PRISON
To say that I was completely dumbfounded by this accusation is to
express my feelings very mildly. But, with an effort, I succeeded in
keeping my _sang-froid_, which I am afraid only served to convince the
officer that he was correct in his charge.
He assailed me with interrogations, demanded my passport, and after
perusing it closely, enquired why I was travelling to Russia at such a
time. "Why!" he pointed out, "you only left England on August 1st, when
Russia and Germany were on the eve of war!"
I gave a detailed explanation of my mission, but I failed to shake his
suspicions. I had to surrender my ticket for inspection and this caused
him to frown more heavily than ever.
"Where is your camera?"
I produced two which were in my pockets, keeping my tiny companion in
its secret resting place.
At the sight of the two cameras he gave a smile of complete
self-satisfaction. He handed them to the guard together with my ticket.
Turning on his heel he remarked:
"You'll ask for these articles when you reach Wesel!"
As he strode down the corridor the serious character of my situation
dawned upon me. My companions had already formed their opinions
concerning my immediate future. All thoughts of the war vanished before
a discussion of my awkward predicament. I saw that the injunction to
make enquiry for my cameras and ticket at Wesel, which is an important
military centre, was merely a ruse to prevent my escape. My arrest at
Wesel was inevitable.
I was carrying one or two other articles, such as a revolver, about me.
I saw that although they were apparently harmless, and could be fully
explained, they would incriminate me only still more. I promptly got rid
of them. I had half-a-mind to discard my little camera also, but somehow
or other I could not bring myself to part with this. I thought it might
come in useful. Moreover there was very little likelihood of it being
discovered unless I was stripped. So I left it where it was. Afterwards
I was thankful I acted upon second thoughts on that occasion.
The outlook was certainly discouraging and when the train stopped at
Wesel--outside the station I afterwards discovered--I acted on the
impulse for self-preservation, darted along the corridor, found a place
of concealment and tucked myself in. Now I realise that this was the
worst thing I could have done, but then my thoughts were centred upon
effecting my escape, in the half-hope that the Germans, unable to find
me, would assume that I had surreptitiously left the train.
But I misjudged German thoroughness, especially when a suspected spy is
the quarry. Fifteen, thirty, fifty minutes slipped by and still the
train did not move. The other passengers were not being regarded kindly
at my non-appearance. So, stealing out of my hiding place I sauntered as
composedly as I could along the corridor to come face to face with the
officer, who with his guard was diligently searching every nook and
cranny and cross-questioning the other passengers. Directly he caught
sight of me he sprang forward, uttering a command. The next instant I
was surrounded by soldiers. I was under arrest.
The officer gave a signal from a window and the train pulled into the
station. I was hustled unceremoniously on to the platform, where eight
soldiers closed around me to form an escort and I was marched forward.
As we crossed the platform the locomotive whistle shrieked, and about
9.30 p.m. the last train to leave Berlin on the outbreak of war bore my
companions homewards.
Personally I was disposed to regard the whole episode as a joke, and an
instance of Teuton blind blundering. The gravity of the situation never
struck me for an instant. I argued with myself that I should speedily
prove that I was the victim of circumstances and would be able to
convince the military of my _bona fides_ without any great effort.
But as I reflected it dawned upon me that my arrest had been skilfully
planned. The youth on the train, whom I never saw again, had played but
a minor part in the drama of which I was the central figure. My
departure must have been communicated from Berlin. Otherwise how should
Wesel have learned that a spy had been arrested? The station was
besieged with a wildly shouting excited crowd who bawled:
"English spy! English spy! Lynch him! Lynch him!"
I was bundled into a military office which had evidently been hurriedly
extemporised from a lumber room. The crowd outside increased in
denseness and hostility. They were shouting and raving with all the
power of their lungs. These vocal measures proving inadequate, stones
and other missiles commenced to fly. They could not see through the
windows of the room so an accurately thrown brick shivered the pane of
glass. Through the open space I caught glimpses of the most ferocious
and fiendish faces it has ever been my lot to witness. Men and women
vied with one another in the bawling and ground their teeth when they
caught sight of me.
The excitement was intense and the chant "Bring him out! Give him to us!
Let us lynch him! Down with the English spy!" even began to grate upon
me. At the time it appeared to me to be somewhat extraordinary, seeing
that we were not at war with Germany, but it conveyed a graphic
illustration of the anti-British sentiment prevailing in the military
centre. Indeed, the crowd became so menacing that my guard became
apprehensive of my safety, and I was hurriedly thrust into an inner
room. My removal there was more abrupt than dignified. I was hustled to
the door. Then a German soldier, by an adroit movement of his rifle
which he held reversed, pricked my leg with the bayonet and at the same
time brought the butt against my head with a resounding thwack!
Simultaneously he let drive with his heavily-booted foot in the small of
my back. I discovered afterwards, from actual experience, that this is a
very favourite movement of the rifle by the Germans, and is used on
every possible occasion.
The outcome of this action was to send me sprawling headlong into the
room to pull up with a crash against the floor. The entrance was
rendered additionally dangerous to myself because I stumbled over the
legs of several sleeping soldiers. I felt inclined to remonstrate with
the officer-in-charge of the escort at the treatment I was receiving,
but the uninviting armed sentry at the door frustrated my efforts very
effectively.
It was an improvised guard-room. The soldiers sprawled upon the straw
littering the floor, striving to snatch a brief rest before going on
duty, sleepily raised themselves to ascertain the cause of the
disturbance. The sentry told them excitedly the charge upon which I had
been arrested, at which the men turned to blink wonderingly upon the
"Englandische Spion!" I was not sorry when they at last wearied of
gazing upon me as if I were a freak side-show, and sank down to finish
their two hours' rest before going on guard once more.
I had barely recovered my senses when the door again flew open and two
further prisoners were injected into the room in a manner comparable
with my own entrance. They were Hindoo students--young fellows returning
to England after a continental holiday, who had been detained. Both were
somewhat alarmed, but I speedily composed them. Later there was a
repetition of the performance to admit three more Indian students. We
all agreed that the German methods of introduction were decidedly novel
and forceful if informal and unpleasant. The latest arrivals, however,
were detained for only a short while. They were rich in funds and were
equally astute in their distribution of largesse to advantage. Money
talked in their instance to distinct effect. The three of us who were
left maintained a conversation in whispers and finally came to the
conclusion that the best thing we could do was to seek sleep so as to be
fit for the enquiry which was certain to take place.
I was dog-tired, but the authorities, as represented by the sentries,
were not disposed to let us enjoy what they were denied. The guard was
constantly changing and the clattering and rasping of orders and
commands repeatedly woke us up. Then again, at frequent intervals, the
sentry would enter. Seeing me asleep he would either give me a prod with
his bayonet or a smart rap with the butt-end of his rifle to wake me up,
the idea no doubt being to impress upon me the serious nature of my
position and to inflict upon me the utmost discomfort.
Being prevented from sleeping and commencing to feel the pangs of
hunger, having eaten nothing since lunch upon the train, I asked for
something to eat. The sentry was very sorry but related that food was
quite out of the question because none of the officers in charge of me
from whom he could obtain the necessary instructions were available.
[*large gap]
The absence of the officers was explained a little later. They had been
searching for an interpreter, so that I might be put through another
inquisition. This interpreter was about the most incompetent of his
class that one could wish to meet. His English was execrable--far worse
than Chinese pidgin--and he had an unhappy and disconcerting manner of
intermingling German and English words, while either through a physical
defect or from some other cause, he could not pronounce his consonants
correctly.
I was taken through the usual rigmarole such as I had at first
experienced at Goch. The evidence also, as usual, was committed to
paper. It was a perfunctory enquiry, however, and was soon completed.
Naturally upon its conclusion I considered that I would be free to
resume my journey. I turned to my interpreter.
"Now this is all over I suppose I can go?"
"Ach! nein zoo tant doh!"
His English was so vile that I thought he said and meant "ah! at nine
you can go!"
Seeing that it was about eleven o'clock at the time, I thought I had
better hurry in case there was another Flushing-bound train. So I
scuttled towards the door only to receive another heavy clout from the
sentry's rifle. What the interpreter really said was "Ah! No, you can't
go!" As I rubbed my bruised head I treated that interpreter to a candid
opinion of his English speaking qualifications, but he did not
understand half what I said.
As I realised nothing further could be done that night I lay down to
snatch another rest. But after midnight my trials and troubles
increased. Every few minutes the door would rattle and be clanked open
to admit an officer who had brought a number of friends to see the
latest sensation--the English spies. The friends, who were
brother-officers, regarded us with a strange interest, while the officer
who had charge of me strutted to and fro like a peacock drawn to his
full height, at the unique greatness thrust upon him, and dwelling at
great length upon the enormity of our offence related a weird story
about my capture.
Upon such occasions I and my two Hindoo companions were compelled to
stand at attention. At first I regarded the incident with amusement,
but after we had been through the circus-like performance about a dozen
times, it became distinctly irksome, especially as I was dog-tired. It
was with the greatest difficulty I maintained my self-control.
About four o'clock in the morning I heard voices in the adjoining room.
Evidently someone in authority had arrived. I decided to seize the
opportunity to secure an interview with one who at least would be able
to give me some satisfaction. I moved smartly towards the door. The
sentry lowered his rifle, but I evaded the bayonet, I saw a flash and
then all was darkness.
Some time later I woke up. I was lying at full length upon the floor and
my head was singing like a kettle, while it ached fearfully. I opened my
eyes but for some minutes could descry nothing but stars. As I came
round I made out the dim forms of the two Hindoo students bending over
me. They were extremely agitated, but their peace of mind became
restored somewhat when I at last sat up. Then they explained what had
happened. After I had dodged the bayonet the soldier had swung his rifle
round bringing the butt end smartly down upon my head and had knocked me
silly. From the pain I suffered and the size of the lump which I could
feel I tacitly agreed that I had received a pretty smart rap.
I felt round for the tin of cigarettes which I had extemporised to form
a pillow before the incident, but was suddenly reminded that smoking was
very much _verboten_. Regarding the tin longingly I absent-mindedly
opened it. To my surprise I found that the fifty cigarettes which it had
originally contained had dwindled down to one! I looked at the sentry
and smiled quietly to myself. Rising to my feet I held out the open tin
to him.
"You've been helping yourself while I have been asleep and I think you
might as well take the last one," I muttered sarcastically.
The phlegmatic sentry looked at me cunningly. His face lapsed into a
broad grin. Growling "danker!" (thank you!) he calmly took it and
lighted up. From this incident I discovered that even a thick-skulled,
dull-witted German infantryman has a bump of humour.
The din which still reigned around the station told me that the crowd
was impatient to see me. In fact Bedlam appeared to have been let loose.
The news of my capture had spread through Wesel like wildfire, and
public animosity and hostility towards me had risen to fever-heat.
During the night the crowd had swollen considerably, and it clung
tenaciously to the station in the hope of having some glorious fun at my
expense.
At six o'clock an officer entered with one or two subordinates and a
squad of soldiers. Certain formalities had to be gone through in which I
played a prominent part. These completed the officer stood before me
with all the pomposity he could command and delivered a harangue at high
speed in a worrying monotone. To me it was gibberish, but one of the men
who could speak English informed me that the gist of his wail was the
intimation that "if I moved a pace to the right, or a pace to the left,
or fell back a pace, or hurried a pace during the march to the Wesel
Arresthaus--Wesel Prison--I would be shot down immediately." I mentally
decided to obey the injunction to the absolute letter, and must admit
that never before or since during my life have I walked such a straight
line.
With four soldiers behind with lowered bayonets, four in front and two
on either side we moved out of the station. The clock was chiming seven,
but the droning of the clock was drowned by the howls of rage,
snarlings, screeches, shrieks and groans of fury which went up from the
mob the moment they caught sight of us. Despite my self-control I
winced. Directly we gained the roadway an ugly rush was made. I thought
I was doomed to be torn limb from limb, for I was overwhelmed by a sea
of itching hands, shaking fists, and gnashing teeth. The escort wavered
and was all but overwhelmed. Although it quivered ominously before the
mob assault it stood its ground. Swinging their rifles over their heads
the soldiers lashed out with the butt-ends. A sharp order rang out. We
turned about and hastily returned to the station. Here the officer
demanded a double escort, which was granted, and we made another attempt
to reach the Arresthaus.
But the increased parade of military power only served to infuriate the
crowd still more. They surged, swayed, and pressed, and howled, groaned,
and shrieked as if bereft. Baulked in their desire to snatch us from the
soldiers they began to fling missiles of all descriptions. Fortunately
they were too excited to throw with pronounced accuracy, although my two
Hindoo companions and I were struck several times with vegetables. Then
a bottle came singing through the air. I ducked, but it struck the
soldier beside me full on the side of the face to shatter into a score
of pieces. The blow was so terrific as to cause a gaping wound in the
soldier's face, extending from his temple to his chin. The blood spurted
out. The wounded man saluted, and requested the officer to permit him to
drop out to have his wound dressed. But the officer curtly refused, and
so the unfortunate soldier was compelled to walk, or rather to stumble,
beside me, the blood pouring from his lacerated face.
As we turned into the square immediately facing the entrance to the
prison I blanched. The mob which had gathered here was so dense, and was
lashed to such a high pitch of vicious fury, that I felt convinced we
should have to succumb to overwhelming numbers. The air was thick with
missiles, and the soldiers suffered severely, although we three
prisoners were not often struck. The soldiers tolerated the fusillade
with the best grace they could command for some time, but even their
endurance had its limits, and at last they turned. But the crowd was by
no means daunted. By hook or by crook they intended to prevent us
reaching the prison, and, they having closed behind us, we were
completely hemmed in.
"Our last chance! Give them to us! English spies! Seize them, comrades!
Lynch them! Lynch them!" were the coarse cries which rang out without
ceasing.
It was a thrilling and critical moment. The mass of screaming men and
women was now so dense that we could not move. The soldiers could no
longer even swing their rifles. The outstretched hands of the mob were
snapping and tearing within an inch or two of my coat. Had I swayed a
trifle they must have grasped me.
A shrill whistle rang out. The prison door was flung open and a number
of soldiers came out at the double with arms lowered, while the officers
were waving their swords. The crowd around the entrance fell back, and
the next moment a passage was being cleaved through the mass of raving
humanity. This sudden appearance of extra force created a diversion of
which our escort took advantage. We slipped through the gap which had
been cut in the crowd, and the next moment were in the prison. As the
gate closed with a resounding bang I gave a sigh of relief. We were safe
from mob violence whatever other fate might be in store for us.
Personally, although I passed through many exciting experiences
subsequently, and was often a victim of Prussian brutality, I regard
that march from the station to the prison at Wesel as the most dangerous
few minutes which I have ever encountered.
We were promptly taken into an office and subjected to another
inquisition. The questions were merely repetitions of those I had
already answered half-a-dozen times previously. Then I was submitted to
my second search. I was ordered to throw my hands above my head, a
bayonet point being held at my stomach to enforce the command. Searchers
went adroitly through my pockets, taking everything which they
contained. These included a batch of letters which I had received just
before starting from home, and which I had thrust into my pocket to read
at leisure during the journey.
These letters provoked a considerable amount of whispering,
head-shaking, wise smiles, and significant noddings. No one could read a
word of English--but that was immaterial. In the wisdom of their conceit
these inquisitors considered the communications to be fully
incriminating, and the frequent recurrence of the word "Russia" in the
letters convinced them that my guilt was now fully and truly established
beyond a shadow of a doubt. The various articles were carefully wrapped
up and tied with blue ribbon. Knowing the significance of red-tape at
home, I concluded that this was the Prussian analogue of our official
preference. Afterwards, however, I was told that "blue" ribbon was
employed for a specific purpose--the sealing of articles and goods
belonging to one arrested on the charge of espionage. How far this is
true I do not know, but I did observe that in every instance blue ribbon
was employed to secure the parcels belonging to spies.
My two cameras were regarded with reverent awe. As they were being
examined I urged them to be careful. I suggested that they should allow
me to develop the films, but this proposal was regarded with
consternation and emphatic negative head-shakings. The authorities would
see to that.
Suddenly there was intense excitement. One of the searchers had drawn a
watch-like contrivance from my waistcoat pocket. It was not a watch,
because it had no dial or works, but something which was quite foreign
to them. First they dropped it as if fearing it might explode. Then
finding that the fall brought about no ill-effects they approached it
warily, picked it up gingerly, and held it to their ears. It did not
tick. Then they shook it, banged it on the desk, studied it closely with
a wise, old-owlish look, and at last, shaking their heads quizzically,
consigned it to wrapping paper and sealed it with the blue ribbon.
Despite my serious predicament I could not refrain from indulging in an
outburst of laughter which only served to annoy them still further. The
mystery was not a new type of infernal machine as they imagined but
merely a home-made actinometer! It was contrived from an old cheap
watch-case, while the strange contents were merely strips of paper which
had been soaked in a solution of potassium bichromate!
These preliminaries completed, my two companions and I were paraded
before another pompous official who, like the majority of his ilk, was
smothered with decorations. Drawing himself to his full height he fired
a tirade at us for several minutes without taking the slightest pause
for breath. What it was all about I do not know. He spoke so rapidly,
and so in the style of a gramophone, that I came to the conclusion he
was in the habit of holding forth in this strain at intervals of every
few minutes. But his manner was so menacing as to lead me to apprehend
that no feelings of affection or hospitality were to be extended towards
us.
His speech completed, he shouted an order. Soldiers hurried in, and at
the word of command they commenced to load their rifles. I was quite at
a loss to understand this action, but my heart thumped and a queer,
indescribable feeling came over me. I felt sick and faint, especially
when I saw the men, upon completing loading, form up in two lines. Like
a flash it dawned upon me that according to German military form I had
been found guilty of the charge levelled against me, and that the
harangue of the pompous individual was no more or less than the
promulgation of my death sentence! For what else could these men have
loaded their rifles so ostentatiously? And why were there so many
soldiers? Their numbers plainly indicated the firing party.
My eyes grew dim with tears in spite of myself. Visions of my wife and
family at home, waiting and momentarily expecting "Daddy," who had
notified them of his return, flitted through my brain. A lump rose in my
throat and for the first time I was within an ace of breaking-down. But
smothering my thoughts, I pulled myself together. Assuming a bravado I
was far from feeling, I demanded to see the Commandant. To my surprise
the request was granted. This functionary was seated at his desk in a
corner of the room, and I was escorted to him. Seeing me he curtly
demanded what I wanted.
"Can I write to my wife?"
The officer who accompanied me explained the situation, and although I
did not understand what transpired I caught the words "Englische Spion!"
The Commandant glared at me.
"Where is she?" he roared.
"In England!"
"England!" and the word, full of venom and hate, burst out like the cork
from a pop-gun. "Nein! Certainly not! It is impossible! Get out!"
Assisted by a vigorous prod I was brought alongside my two companions.
The soldiers lined up to march. My head was swimming, but all thoughts
of my own plight were dispelled by an incident which was as unexpected
as it was sudden. At the command "March" one of the two Indian students,
positive that he was now going to his doom, staggered. I caught him as
he fell. He dropped limply to the ground, half-dead with fright, and
with his face a sickly green.
"Are we going to be shot? Are we going to be shot?" he wailed
agonisedly.
He clutched the sleeve of a soldier, who, looking down and evidently
understanding English, motioned negatively. Then he added as an
afterthought, "Not now!"
While his negative head-shake revived my drooping spirits, his words
afterwards sent them to zero once more. I hardly knew whether to feel
relieved or otherwise. It would have been far better had the soldier
curbed his tongue, because his final words kept us on the rack of
suspense.
We were hustled out of the room. As we passed out I glanced at the
clock. It was just nine o'clock--Tuesday morning, August 4. I shall
never forget the day nor the hour. Like sheep we were driven and rushed
downstairs, the guards assisting our faltering steps with sundry rifle
prods and knocks. We tramped corridors, which seemed to be interminable,
and at last came to a ponderous iron gate. Here we were halted, and the
military guard handed us over to the gaolers. We passed through the
gates, which closed with a soul-smashing, reverberating bang.
Over the top of this gate I had noticed one of those mottoes to which
the German is so partial. I do not recall the actual words, but I was
told that it was something to do with crime and punishment. It would
have been far more appropriate had it been inscribed "Main entrance to
Hell. No pass-out checks!" According to many accounts which reached my
ears during the succeeding few days, many entered those gates, but few
passed out alive. I can substantiate this from my own observations,
which are duly narrated, while my experience was sufficient to vouch for
its similarity to Hades.
This gate gave approach to a long corridor, flanked on either side by
cells. This corridor is facetiously nick-named by the prisoners as
"Avenue of the Damned," because it is in these cells that the tenants
await their doom. I was separated from my two companions, who were
already being treated more leniently than myself, the case against them
being obviously very thin, and was brought to a stop before cell "No.
11."
The massive door swung open, and accompanied by four soldiers I entered.
The door closed, there was a grating in the lock, and we were alone.
Even now I could not keep back a smile. Although I had been thrust into
the cell, together with four armed soldiers, and the door had been
bolted and barred, I turned at the sound of a slight click. The head
gaoler, who had ushered us in and had locked the door upon us, according
to the regulations of the prison, had opened the peep-hole to satisfy
himself that I was safely inside!