HOW GERMANY DRIVES HER PRISONERS MAD
The soldiers had accompanied me into the cell to complete the
preliminaries which comprised the final search. This involved my
transition to a state of nature. My frock coat was removed and all
pockets further examined. The seams and lining were closely investigated
while even the buttons were probed to make certain they concealed
nothing of a dangerous nature. In a few minutes they discovered my
silent companion, the tiny camera, which I had deftly removed from its
secret hiding-place to a tail pocket in my coat, as I did not wish to
have it found in its hiding-place, which would have been far more
incriminating. I had done this while coming down the steps to the cells.
Also I had extracted the exposed film and had placed this in a spot
where it was absolutely safe from discovery.
When the soldiers alighted upon the instrument they were sorely puzzled.
All my pockets had been turned inside out in the room upstairs and now
this camera had been brought to light. They shook their heads completely
baffled, and looked at me meaningly. But my face was inscrutable.
Every garment was subjected to a rigorous search. Yet beyond the camera
they found nothing. Certainly no papers were brought to light. There was
no mistaking their bitter disappointment; this was plainly written upon
their faces. My watch was prized open, and the works were turned out,
while a photograph of my wife and children was torn from the back case
to make certain there was nothing concealed behind it. My shirt was
turned over and over and held up to the light to be examined inch by
inch for any traces of secret writing. But all to no purpose. From their
mortification and behaviour I surmised that they had been promised a
monetary reward if they succeeded in finding anything in writing. And
now they were destined to go empty-handed. Thereupon, after laying their
heads together for a few seconds, they drew pencil and paper from their
pockets and commenced writing.
I was suspicious of this action. To me it was palpable that, animated by
the lure of money and foiled in their efforts, they were prepared to go
the length of concocting evidence against me. At least I thought so, and
summarily frustrated their action. I went to them and by the aid of
signs demonstrated that I wanted the paper torn up, or I would ring the
emergency bell and summon the head gaoler to explain matters. They
apparently did not relish my threat, because they instantly tore the
paper to shreds.
By the time their search was completed I was stripped to the skin. But I
was not permitted to re-dress. Evidently they concluded that I might
have pockets in my epidermis because they went over me, inch by inch,
resorting to actions which were wholly unnecessary and which were
revolting, degrading, and demoralising to the last degree--such actions
as one would hardly expect even from the lowest animals. During the
process they joked and gibed freely at my expense.
Although it was with the utmost difficulty I controlled my feelings, my
blood soon began to boil, rapidly rising to fever heat, when they
descended to familiarities and personalities which flesh and blood could
not stand. I suffered their indignities as long as I could. Then unable
to contain my rage any longer I threw myself at the leader of the party,
pitching into him with all the strength I could command. I pommelled him
unmercifully with my fists and he began to howl somewhat vociferously.
His comrades were too surprised at my unexpected rebellion to extend
assistance, until at last their dull wits took in the situation. I
caught a glimpse of one of the soldiers grasping his rifle. I saw it
flash in the air--I remembered no more.
When I awoke I was lying stark naked upon the floor of my cell. My head
was racking and throbbing like a hammer. Raising my hand to my forehead
I sharply withdrew it. It was quite wet, and as I looked more closely, I
saw that it was blood. I felt again and found my face clotted and my
hair reeking wet from a ragged wound on the head. Evidently the soldier
whose rifle I had seen swinging through the air, had brought it down
heavily upon my skull, felling me like an ox. How long I had lain
unconscious I never knew, but it must have been for some time, judging
from the quantity of blood I had lost, which was partially congealed on
my face, neck and shoulders. I shivered with the cold and collecting my
senses I commenced to dress my wound. For bandages I had to tear my
shirt to ribbons. I swabbed the ragged wound as well as I could, and
then bound it up. Weary and faint from loss of blood I dressed myself
with extreme difficulty and then proceeded to examine my present abode.
We are familiar with the cramped quarters at the Tower of London into
which our mediæval sovereigns were wont to thrust our ancestors who fell
foul of authority. Wesel Prison is the German counterpart of our famous
quondam fortress-prison. The cells are little, if any, larger than those
in the Tower, and are used to this day. My residence measured about nine
feet in length by about four and a half feet in width, and was
approximately ten feet in height--about the size of the entrance hall in
an average small suburban residence. High up in the wall was a window
some two feet square. But it admitted little or no daylight. It was
heavily barred, while outside was a sloping hood which descended to a
point well below the sill, so that all the light which penetrated into
the cell was reflected from below against the black interior of the
hood. In addition there was a glazed window, filthy dirty, while even
the slight volume of light which it permitted to pass was obstructed
further by small-mesh wire netting. Consequently the interior was
wrapped in a dismal gloom throughout the greater part of the day,
through which one could scarcely discern the floor when standing
upright. After daylight waned the cell was enveloped in Cimmerian
blackness until daybreak, no lights being permitted.
The bed comprised three rough wooden planks, void of all covering and
mattress, and raised a few inches above the floor. The other
appointments were exceedingly meagre, consisting of a small jug and
basin as well as a small sanitary pan. High on the wall was a broken
shelf. That was all. The wall itself was about two feet in thickness and
wrought of masonry.
The walls themselves were covered with inscriptions written and
scratched by those who had been doomed to this depressing domicile. Some
of the drawings were beautifully executed, but the majority of the
inscriptions testified, far more eloquently than words can describe, to
the utter depravity of many of those who had preceded me, and who had
passed their last span of life on this earth within these confines.
A few minutes sufficed to take in these general features. Then my
attention was riveted upon the floor, and this told a silent, poignant
story which it would be difficult to parallel. The promenade was less
than nine feet--in fact, it was only two full paces--and barely twelve
inches in width. Consequently the occupant, as he paced to and fro, trod
always upon the same spots. And the patterings of the feet in that short
walk had worn the board into hollows at the treads. I felt those hollows
with my hands, traced their formation, and despite my unhappy plight
could not refrain from musing upon the stories which those hollows could
relate--stories of abandoned hope, frenzy, madness, resignation,
suppressed fury, and pathetic awaiting of the doom which could not be
averted.
Those hollows exercised an irresistible fascination for me, and when I
started to walk they drew my feet as certainly as the magnet attracts
the iron filings. I would strive to avoid the hollows and for a few
seconds would succeed, but within a short time my feet fell into them.
Later I learned from one of my wardens that the pacings of the criminals
condemned to this and the other cells is so persistent and ceaseless as
to demand the renewal of the boards at frequent intervals.
In the United States the third degree has attained a revolting ill-fame.
But the American third degree must be paradise in comparison with what
can only be described as its equivalent in Germany. The Teuton method is
far more effective and brutal. The man is not badgered, coaxed, and
threatened in the hope of extorting a signed confession, but he is
condemned to loneliness, silence and solitude amid a gloom which can be
felt, and which within a short time eats into your very soul. Add to
this complete deprivation of exercise and insufficient, un-nourishing,
food, and one can gather some faint idea of the effect which is wrought
upon the human body. The German idea is to wear down a man physically as
well as mentally, until at last he is brought to the verge of insanity
and collapse. By breaking the bodily strength and undermining the mind
he is reduced to such a deplorable condition as to render him as pliable
as putty in the hands of his accusers. He is rendered absolutely
incapable of defending himself. He fails to realise what is said against
him or the significance of his own words.
His brain is the first to succumb to the strain, utter loneliness
speedily conducing to this result, aggravated by a sensation which is
produced by walking the cell, and which I will describe later.
Consequently he invariably achieves with his own mouth what his
persecutors desire--his own condemnation. To make their devilry
complete German justice resorts to a final phase which seals the fate of
the poor wretch irrevocably, as I will narrate.
I had been deprived of every belonging. I was denied paper, pencil and
reading material. Solitary confinement in Germany is carried out in
strict accordance with the interpretation of the term. One is left alone
with one's thoughts. At intervals of ten minutes the gaoler opens the
peep-hole and peers within. Consequently you are under constant
surveillance, and this contributes towards the unhinging of the mind.
Night and day, without a break, the peep-hole opens with mechanical
regularity. Not only is all mental exercise denied but physical exercise
as well. All that one can do towards stretching one's limbs is to pace
the tiny cell. The method is typically Prussian, and is complete in its
Prussian thoroughness and devilishness.
I sat down upon my bed with my bleeding, aching head in my hands, an
object of abject misery. Not a sound beyond the clanging of doors was to
be heard, punctuated at frequent intervals by the dull thud of blows, as
some hapless wretch was being clubbed, the shrieks and howls of
prisoners, and the groans of those on the verge of insanity. It was just
as if all the demons of the Nether Regions were at work worrying and
harrying their victims. While rocking myself to and fro I heard the
turning of the key. The gaoler entered with a bowl containing some
evil-looking and worse smelling soup. I ventured to speak, but he merely
glowered threateningly and departed without uttering a sound. The dinner
was revolting, but recognising that I was considered to be a criminal,
and as such was condemned to prison fare I ventured to taste the
nauseous skilly. I took one mouthful. My nose rebelled at the smell and
my stomach rose into my throat at the taste. One sip was more than
adequate, so I pushed the basin to one side. I threw myself upon the
plank bed. Ten minutes later the peep-hole opened. I took no notice but
started when a gruff voice roared "Get up!"
I ignored the command. The door opened and the guard came in. He gave me
a savage prod with his rifle. I sat up.
"Get up! Pace!" he roared.
I relapsed on to my bed without a murmur only to receive a resounding
clout which set my head throbbing once more with accentuated intensity.
"Get up! Pace!" came the roar again.
The guard pointed to the floor.
I saw what was expected of me. I was to walk to and fro up and down the
cell. I was not to be allowed to sit down. Wearily I got up and started
to "pace!" One--two--steps forward: one--two--steps back! Only that and
no more. The guard watched me for a few seconds and then went out.
I continued to do his bidding for a short while, but walking two paces,
then swinging round on the heels, taking two more strides, turning round
again, to make another two steps, soon brought on violent giddiness. But
that doesn't matter to the German. Within a few minutes I felt as if I
had been spun round like a top and stumbled rather than paced. But to
stumble was to court disaster because my ankles came into violent
contact with the plank bed. Again I had to keep my thoughts centred upon
the pacing. To allow them to stray was to essay a third step
inadvertently which brought my face into violent collision with the
wall. More than once I made my nose bleed copiously from this cause.
Within a few minutes my brain was whirling madly, my head throbbed from
my wound, while my face was bruised from colliding with the wall. I was
so giddy that I could not stand erect, while my eyes burned and ached as
if they had been seared with a red-hot iron. I fell upon the plank bed,
but open flew the peep-hole and again rang out the ominous growl,
"Pace!"
And this is what I was condemned to do hour after hour through the
livelong day. The only respite comes when meals are brought in and
during the night, when the prisoner is left alone. But throughout the
day, from 6.30 in the morning to about 7 at night one must pursue the
eternal round--two paces forward, right about, two paces back, right
about, and so on. The punishment cannot be escaped; it is not suspended
for illness until collapse comes to the relief of the hapless wretch. It
is a refinement of cruelty which probably is not to be found in any
other country. Little wonder that the continued dizziness and lack of
ability to stretch the limbs bring about a complete nervous prostration
and reduce the strongest man to a physical wreck within a very short
time. And if the hapless prisoner declines to answer the stern command
"Pace!" then bayonet prodding, clubbing and head-cuffing are brought
into action as a stimulant.
Ages seemed to have passed before the door opened again, although as a
matter of fact, there is only about 4½ hours between the mid-day and the
afternoon meals. I lost all account of time, even during the first day
of my incarceration. An hour's pacing seemed like weeks. This time the
gaoler brought me another basin containing a greenish liquid, very much
like the water in which cabbages are cooked, accompanied by a hunk of
black bread.
The method of serving the meals is distinctly German. The gaoler opens
the door. He places the food on the ground at the entrance and pushes it
along the floor into the cell as if the inmate were a leper. I tasted
this repast, but it was even more noisome than the dinner, so I placed
it beside the bowl which I had first received, and which with its spoon
was left with me. Even if one could have swallowed it I should not have
received a very sustaining meal, seeing that it had to suffice until
5.30 the next morning--13 hours without food. Moreover the food is
served out sparingly. It is not designed to nourish the frame, but is
just sufficient to keep it going though with depreciating strength.
Daylight waned to give way to the blackness of night and in my cell I
could not see my hand before my face. Yet darkness was not an
unmitigated evil. It did bring relief from the enforced pacing for which
I was devoutly thankful. Although torn with hunger I was so exhausted as
to jump at the opportunity to lie down. But the planks were hard, and
being somewhat slender in build my thighs speedily became sore. My brain
from the fiendish exercise refused to stop spinning. I was like a
drunken man and to lie down was to provoke a feeling of nausea which was
worse than pacing. Then as the night wore on I began to shiver with the
cold because I was denied any covering. How I passed the first night I
cannot recall, but I am certain that a greater part of the time passed
in delirium, and I almost cried with delight when I saw the first rays
of the breaking day filter through the window. They at least did modify
the terrible darkness.
At 5.30 in the morning along came the gaoler. The cell was opened and a
broom was thrust into my hands. To me that domestic utensil was as a new
toy to a child. I grasped it with delight: it at least would give me
some occupation. I set to sweeping the cell furiously. I could have
enjoyed the company of that broom for hours, but a prisoner is only
allowed two minutes to sweep his cell. Then the broom was snatched out
of my hands and to the droning of "Pace!" which rang out continually
like the tolling of a funeral bell, I knew the next day had begun.
I fell back on to my bed almost broken at heart at being deprived of the
humble broom. But by now the significance of German solitary confinement
had been brought home to me fully. I would not be broken. I would ward
off the terrible results at all hazards. So when the gaoler came with my
breakfast he found me in high spirits--assumed for the occasion I may
say. When he pushed in the basin of skilly I picked it up and set it
beside the others. Pointing to the row of untouched food I turned to him
cynically and remarked, "Don't you think you're making too much fuss of
me?"
"Ach!" he growled in reply.
"If you persist in going on like this I shall think I am in a nursing
home!"
"Ach!" he retorted sharply, "If you think you are in a nursing home
you'll soon change your mind," saying which he slammed the door with
extra vigour.
The only interlude to the daily round is shortly after sweeping cells.
The doors are thrown open and each prisoner, armed with his water jug
and sanitary pan, forms up in line in the corridor. They are spaced two
paces apart and this distance must be rigorously maintained. If you vary
it a fraction a smart rap over the head with the rifle brings you back
again to the correct position. The German warders never attempt to
correct by words. The rifle is a handy weapon and a smart knock
therewith is always forceful. Consequently, if you are dull of
comprehension, your body speedily assumes a zebra appearance with its
patches of black and blue.
We were marched off to a huge yard flanked by a towering wall studded
with hundreds of heavily barred windows--cells. Only those resident in
the "Avenue of the Damned" experience this limited latitude, the
ordinary prisoners being extended the privilege of ordinary exercise.
Not a word must be spoken; to do so is to invite a crash over the head,
insensibility being an effective protection against communication
between prisoners.
Reaching the yard we were lined up, still two paces apart and under the
hawk-eyes of the guard. Then the first man from one end advanced to the
pump, alongside which stood two soldiers with fixed bayonets with which
the man was prodded if he evinced signs of lingering or dwelling unduly
over his work. The duty involved cleaning out the sanitary pan, in which
by the way dependence had to be placed upon the hands alone, no mop or
cloth being allowed. Then the jug had to be refilled from the pump,
which was a crazy old appliance worked by hand. I may say that so far as
we prisoners residing in the ill-famed avenue were concerned we had to
depend upon water entirely for washing purposes--soap was an unheard-of
luxury--while a towel was unknown. Under these circumstances it was
impossible to keep clean. Shaving was another pleasure which we were
denied, and I may say that the prisoners residing in the salubrious
neighbourhood of the condemned cells had the most unkempt and ragged
appearance it is possible to conceive. When the man had finished his
task he marched to the opposite end of the line, his place being
immediately taken by the next man, and so on until the work was
completed, which usually involved about ten minutes.
Although intercourse was rendered impossible by the vigilance and number
of the guards yet I was able to take stock of my neighbours. We were a
small but cosmopolitan family, the French predominating. For some
inscrutable reason the Germans appear to have been unusually successful
in their haul of French spies, although doubtless the great majority
were as innocent of the charge of espionage as I was. Yet we were a
motley throng and I do not think any self-respecting tramps would have
chummed up with us. Many of my fellow prisoners bore unmistakable
evidences of premature old age--the fruits of solitary confinement, lack
of exercise, and insufficient food. Others seemed half-witted and dazed
as a result of the brutal treatment which they had received. Some were
so weak that they could scarcely manipulate the crazy pump. Many were
garbed only in trousers, being void of boots, socks, shirts and vest.
Unkempt beards concealed thin, worn and haggard faces studded with red
bloodshot eyes.
While I was waiting in the line my attention was arrested by one man,
who formed a member of our party. He was a German, but he did not
appear as if he had been guilty of any heinous crime--at least not one
of sufficient calibre to bring him into our Avenue. He was well built,
of attractive personality, and was well dressed in a blue suit complete
with clean collar, tie and other details.
Who was he? What was he doing with us? Was he a spy? My curiosity was
thoroughly aroused. I became interested in him, and strange to say the
sentiment was mutual because he could not take his eyes from me. I
keenly wanted to speak to him but this was frankly out of the question.
Yet we seemed to be drawing together.
I did not attempt to speak but contrived by sundry movements and
shuffling on one pretext or another to get closer to him. Then I
resorted to subterfuge. Standing with my hands in front of me I began to
twiddle my fingers rapidly. The action appeared to be natural and did
not arouse the slightest suspicion. Within the limitations available I
was forming some of the letters of the deaf and dumb alphabet with which
I am fully acquainted and dexterous. Did he understand the language? I
watched him closely. Presently I saw his fingers begin to move with
apparent equal aimlessness. I watched intently. He was answering me and
to my joy I discovered that he understood English.
Our fingers were now working briskly and we carried on a brief
monosyllabic conversation while the other prisoners were completing
their work. From him I learned that I was certainly in great danger. But
he urged me to cheer up. Then he asked me the number of my cell, which I
gave. He replied that he was directly opposite me, and he told me to
look out for him whenever I got a chance, which, needless to say, under
the stringency of my life, was not likely to be often. He had such a
frank open face that I felt as if I could trust him, although I had come
to regard every German, no matter how apparently innocent his
conversation might be, with the gravest suspicion. But a quaint, quiet,
suppressed smile which he gave restored my confidence completely.
The hours dragged along as during the previous day. It was wearying and
exhausting. I refused all my food and was making an imposing collection
of bowls of foodstuff. None was taken away. The gaoler merely observed
that I had not touched anything, but he made no comment. When night fell
I essayed to lie down, but this was impossible. The sores on my
projecting thigh bones had broken into large wounds which were now
bleeding and suppurating and were so painful as to render lying down
impossible. As a matter of fact more than two months passed before those
wounds healed and the scars are still visible.
I was lying as best I could upon my bed vainly striving to woo sleep. It
was about midnight. The key grated in the lock and a young officer
entered. He was gruff of manner, but according to the German standard
was not unkind. I found that his manner was merely a mask to dissipate
any suspicion among others who might be prowling round, such is the
distrust of one German of another. After he had shut the door his manner
changed completely and he was disposed to be affable. But I resented his
intrusion. Had he come to fathom me? Was he an emissary seeking to
induce me to commit myself inadvertently? Frankly I thought so. He spoke
softly and his voice was intentionally kind, while he spoke English
perfectly.
"I would like to help you," he began.
"Would you?" I retorted cynically.
"Yes, I am very fond of the English. I have lived in London several
years and have many friends over there."
"Well, it's a thousand pities we don't serve some of your blighted
countrymen the same as they are serving me," I shot back.
"Yes, I know. I am very sorry for you. But it is our way. Now I,
myself, don't think you are a spy. I think your story is honest and
straightforward."
"Then why in the name of Heaven don't they treat me so until they have
tried me?"
"Ah! That is the English way. Here, in Germany, a man is guilty until he
is found innocent!"
"Oh! So that's your much-vaunted German 'Kultur,' is it?" I laughed
sarcastically.
Seeing that I was a bit overwrought he sought to pacify me.
"Would you like a cigarette?"
At the thought of a smoke I nearly jumped for joy. There was nothing for
which I had been yearning so much as the solace of a cigarette. I took
one from his proffered case.
"H'sh! I cannot stay any longer now. The guard might get suspicious. But
I will do all I can for you. I will come to see you every night at this
time. I will make you as comfortable as I can as a return for the many
courtesies and kindnesses I received while in London. Now light up and
jump up to the ventilator to puff the smoke out. If they smell tobacco
in the cell you will get into serious trouble."
He bade me good-night and the next instant I was at the window to enjoy
the only peaceful few minutes of pleasure which had come my way since my
arrest. My smoke completed I settled down to sleep with additional
comfort.
At 2.30 in the morning I was once more awakened. The door flew open and
in rushed my friend the young officer. He was terribly agitated. He
grasped both my hands and I felt that he was trembling like a leaf. His
voice was so broken that he could scarcely speak.
"Good God! Do you know what has happened? Great Britain has declared war
on Germany!" Like a child he burst out crying. As for myself I knew
hardly what to think. I had been hoping against hope that the
circumstance of our still keeping friendly relations would facilitate my
speedy release. This hope was fairly blasted now, and I was certain to
meet with far shorter shrift and harsher treatment than had already been
meted out to me. I may say that this was the first intelligence I had
received about the outbreak of war with Great Britain.
Stifling his emotion the officer went on.
"I am very sorry it has happened. I shall not be able to see you again!"
"Why?"
"I have to leave for the front. I have ten minutes to say farewell to my
poor old mother." Here he broke down once more. "My poor mother," he
wailed. "It will kill her. She does not know a soul in Wesel. We are
utter strangers. I was summoned back from London only a week or two
ago." He gave vent to another outburst of sobbing.
"Cheer up!" I said soothingly, "you'll see her when you come back!"
"Come back?" he echoed bitterly. "No! I shall never come back. I shall
never see her again! Good-bye! Remember that I always thought kindly of
the English. But I won't forget you before I go!"
His fatalistic resignation somewhat moved me. He was inwardly convinced
that he was going to his death. But I appreciated his sparing a little
of his bare ten minutes to give me a parting visit. I also thank him for
remembering me as he had promised. Shortly after he had gone the gaoler
came to my cell with a sack of fresh straw to serve as a mattress. The
young officer had paid him to extend me this slight privilege. To me it
was like a Heaven-sent blessing, because it enabled me to seek a little
repose without subjecting my bleeding hips to further damage.
During the following day, Wednesday, I was enabled to snatch a peep of
the corridor without, owing to the gaoler paying me a visit in response
to my summons. To my utter astonishment, looking across the corridor, I
saw the mysterious prisoner with whom I had been talking by aid of the
mute alphabet, lounging at the door of his open cell smoking a cigar.
This discovery startled me, and I decided to be more than ever on my
guard. To my mind, which was becoming distracted, everyone appeared to
be spying upon my actions. The mysterious prisoner looked across the
corridor and saw me. Instantly his fingers commenced to move rapidly. I
was talking to the gaoler, but was looking beyond him at the prisoner
opposite, greedily taking in the signs. I almost jumped as I read off
the letters. "Be alert! Something is going to happen!"