OUR "LUXURIOUS HOTEL"
Although it was 9.25 Tuesday evening when we boarded the train in Wesel
station, _en route_ for the "luxurious hotel where we were to receive
every kindness consistent with the noblest traditions of German honour,"
there did not appear to be any anxiety to part with our company. There
were about sixty of us all told, and we were shepherded with as
pronounced a display of German military pomp and circumstance as would
have been manifested if the All-Highest himself, had been travelling.
Wesel station swarmed with officers and men who apparently had nothing
else to do but to perambulate the platforms, the officers swaggering
with typical Teuton arrogance, and the humble soldiers clattering to and
fro in utter servility, merely emphasising their existence by making
plenty of noise with their cumbrous boots and rifles.
At midnight the train started. The majority of my companions were the
male passengers of military age who had been detained from the pleasure
steamer _Krimhilde_ while travelling up the Rhine. The military
authorities in charge of the train received bulky sheafs of papers, each
of which related to one passenger, and was packed with the most minute
details. I am afraid my record must have been somewhat imposing,
inasmuch as I commanded considerable and unappreciated attention from
the military, while my fellow prisoners regarded me with a keen
curiosity.
I must admit that my personal appearance was far from being attractive.
I looked even more ragged, un-cared for, and ill than I was when facing
my accusers at the midnight trial some days before. I was shirtless,
collarless, and tie-less. My hair was matted and clotted with congealed
blood freely mixed with dirt. My face, in addition to a week's growth of
hair, was smeared with black marks which I had not been able to remove
owing to my inability to get soap to wash myself with. My frock-coat and
trousers, frayed at the bottoms, were sadly soiled and contrasted
strangely with the fancy pattern tops of my patent boots. In fact, I
admitted to the party, that "I must have looked a 'knut' of the finest
type!" All things considered I am not surprised that at first I was
shunned by one and all, both compatriots and the military guards.
Although the distance from Wesel to Paderborn--Sennelager is three miles
outside the latter town--is only about 95 miles as the crow flies, the
railway takes a somewhat circuitous route. Owing to the extensive
movement of the troops we suffered considerable delay, the result being
that we did not reach our destination until about mid-day on the
Wednesday, the journey having occupied nearly twelve hours. The heat was
unbearable, and confinement within the carriages, the windows of which
were kept sedulously closed by order of the military, thus rendering the
atmosphere within stifling, speedily commenced to affect some of the
passengers. Each compartment carried seven prisoners, and the eighth
seat, one of the windows beside the door, was occupied by a soldier--the
guard of the compartment--complete with loaded rifle and fixed bayonet.
Sleep was out of the question, but this did not affect us seriously. We
were somewhat excited, and spent the hours of the night in conversation
and the exchange of experiences. In our party was an English gentleman,
Mr. K----,[3] who held an important position in a large business house
in one of the cities on the Rhine. Somehow he was attracted to me,
moved, no doubt by my general appearance, and because I was now showing
visible signs of my incarceration and experiences in Wesel prison. I may
say that to Mr. K---- I undoubtedly owe my life, and I never can express
my thanks sufficiently for his unremitting attention and kindness during
my subsequent illness, as I narrate in due course. Moreover, during his
sojourn among us he was a tower of strength, having long been resident
in the country, and thoroughly conversant with the language and manners
of the Germans.
[Footnote 3: The names and occupations of fellow-prisoners who
are still in captivity are purposely disguised, because if the
German authorities should happen to read this narrative, and be
enabled to identify any of my compatriots who participated in
any of the incidents recorded, they would receive treatment
which would be decidedly detrimental to their welfare.--H.C.M.]
It was during this tedious train journey that he related the experiences
of the passengers upon the unfortunate steamer _Krimhilde_. Many of the
Englishmen who happened to be upon this boat had been held up for a week
in various towns, owing to the stress of mobilisation. But at last
permission was given by the authorities to proceed, and the delayed
travellers were assured of an uninterrupted journey to England.
Unfortunately the passage down the Rhine was impeded by fog, and this
delay proved fatal. When it was possible to resume the journey, and
while the steamer was making a good pace, a river patrol boat dashed up
and ordered the captain of the steamer to stop, the reason being that no
intimation had been received of the vessel's coming.
The captain protested, but at the point of the revolver he was compelled
to turn round and return to the place which he had left only a few hours
previously. The re-arrival of the _Krimhilde_ at this point aroused
considerable interest, and the authorities demanded the reason. The
captain explained, but receiving a re-assurance that everything was in
order and as originally expressed, he was free to travel down the
river.
Again the journey was attempted and all went well until the boat was
approaching Wesel. Then another patrol boat fussed up, the officer of
which boarded the steamer. Again the captain presented his permit and
expressed his determination to go ahead.
"We don't know anything about that," returned the boarding officer,
referring to the permit. "My orders are to stop every vessel carrying
Englishmen!"
The boarding-officer turned and ordered all the male prisoners to
separate themselves from the ladies. Passports were produced upon demand
and closely scrutinised. Then the officer, stepping back a few paces,
beckoned the nearest man. His name was demanded to identify the passport
and then a brief hurried cross-examination proceeded, culminating in the
question:
"How old are you?"
"Thirty-eight!"
"Step this side!" retorted the officer, who proceeded to examine the
succeeding passenger, to whom the self-same questions were repeated, the
final interrogation being the passenger's age.
"Fifty-seven!" came the response.
The officer scanned the passport and finding the answer to be correct
remarked, "Step over there!" indicating his left.
By the time the officer had completed his interrogations the male
passengers were divided into two groups. Meanwhile the women and
children had gathered round, following the proceedings, which appeared
inexplicable to them, with a strange silence and a fearful dread.
"All you men of military age," continued the officer speaking to the
group of younger-looking men, "are to go ashore. You will be detained as
prisoners of war. You have ten minutes to pack your trunks and to say
'Good-bye!' So hurry up!"
At this intelligence a fearful hubbub broke out. The women and children
who were to be separated from their husbands, fathers, and relatives
gave way to lamentation and hysterical raving. While the men packed
their trunks under official supervision their wives and children clung
to them desperately. But the men realising that war is war, accepted the
situation philosophically, even cheerfully. They were buoyed up by the
official assurance that their detention was merely a matter of form, and
that they would soon be released and free to proceed to their homes.
I may say that this is a favourite ruse followed by the Germans in all
the camps in which I was interned, and I discovered that it was general
throughout the country. It is always expressed whenever the Teutons see
trouble brewing. Undoubtedly it is practised to keep the prisoners keyed
up to a feverish pitch of hopefulness. Certainly it succeeded for a
time, although such announcements at a later date, when we had seen
through the subterfuge, were received with ironical cheering and jeers.
At such a sudden and summary cleavage between families many distressing
and pathetic scenes were witnessed. On board there happened to be a
wealthy young member of the Russian nobility--Prince L----. He was
travelling with his sister and friends and was far from well.
The sister approached the officer and pleaded hard for her brother's
release. It was refused. Grief-stricken the Princess fell on her knees
and with tears streaming down her cheeks, kissed the officer's boots and
offered all her jewels--they must have been worth a considerable amount
of money--which she hastily tore off and held in her outstretched hands.
For the moment even the officer was somewhat moved. Then in a quiet,
determined voice he remarked,
"I am exceedingly sorry, but I cannot grant your request. I am merely
acting on my orders. But I can assure you that your brother in common
with all the others here, will be looked after. Not a hair of their
heads shall be injured. They will all be treated according to the best
and noblest traditions of German honour,[4] and the regulations which
have been drawn up among the Powers concerning the treatment of
prisoners of war." With these words the Prince was cast aside with the
others.
[Footnote 4: The traditions of German honour were dinned into
our ears at every turn.--H.C.M.]
In another instance the wife and child of an Englishman, Mr. C----,
refused to be parted. The wife clung round her husband's neck while the
child held to his coat. She expressed her determination to go with her
husband, no matter what might happen, and was on the verge of hysterics.
Every one was moved and strove to coax her into quietness, while an
officer even accompanied her off the boat with her husband. On the quay
efforts were repeated to placate her and to induce her to allow her
husband to proceed. But all in vain. At last, drawing the lady forcibly
away, though with no greater force than was necessary, the officer
himself attempted to console her.
"Do not worry. I will do all I can for you, and will see you do not want
during the time your husband is interned."
What became of Mrs. C---- and her child just then I do not know, because
at that moment the boat sheered off with a sorrowful and crying list of
passengers who waved frantic farewells. Alas! I fear that in some
instances that was the last occasion upon which husband and wife ever
saw one another, and when children were parted from "daddy" for life.
Such was the story related by Mr. K----. After the boat had left, the
detained prisoners, he explained, were formed up on the quay, and
surrounded by an imposing guard with fixed bayonets, were marched off.
It was a sad party. All that was dearest in life to them had been torn
away at a few minutes' notice through the short-sightedness of Prussian
militarism or the desire of the Road-hog of Europe to display his
officialism and the authority he had enjoyed for but a few days. Many of
these tourists, as one might naturally expect, were sorely worried by
the thoughts as to what would become of their loved ones upon their
arrival in England, many without money or friends to receive them. This
was the discussion that occupied their minds when they were marching
towards Wesel Station, and when the tiny party, of which I was one,
being marched from Wesel prison, met them in the street, as already
related.
As for ourselves we were soon destined to taste the pleasures of the
best traditions of German honour. No provisions of any kind whatever had
been placed on the train for our requirements. What was more we were
denied the opportunity to purchase any food at any station where we
happened to stop. At one point a number of girls pressed round the
carriages offering glasses of milk at 20 pfennigs. As we were all
famished and parched there was a brisk trade. But the moment the
officers saw what was happening they rushed forward and drove the girls
back by force of arms.
So far as our compartment was concerned we were more fortunate than many
of our colleagues. Our soldier warden was by no means a bad fellow at
heart. In his pack he carried his daily ration--two thick hunks of black
bread. He took this out and instantly proffered one hunk to us, which we
gladly accepted and divided among ourselves.
Those being the early days of the war the German soldier was a universal
favourite among the civilians. Directly one was espied he became a
magnet. The women, girls and elder men rushed forward and wildly thrust
all sorts of comestibles into his hands. Unhappily we did not stop at
many stations; our train displayed a galling preference for lonely
signal posts, so that the chances of our guard receiving many such gifts
were distinctly limited. But at one station he did receive an armful of
brödchen--tiny loaves--which he divided amongst us subsequently with the
greatest camaraderie.
But his comrades in other compartments were not so well-disposed. With
true Prussian fiendishness they refused to permit their prisoners to buy
anything for themselves, and to drive them to exasperation and to make
them feel their position, the guards would ostentatiously devour their
own meals and gifts. While we did not really receive sufficient to stay
us, still our guard did his best for us, an act which we appreciated and
reciprocated by making a collection on his behalf. When we proffered
this slight recognition of his courtesy and sympathetic feeling he
declined to accept it. [*gap] He was one of the very few well-disposed
Germans I ever met.
Upon arriving at Sennelager Station we were unceremoniously bundled out
of the train. Those who had trunks and bags were roughly bidden to
shoulder them and to fall in for the march to the camp. The noon heat
was terrible. The sun poured down unmercifully, and after twelve hours'
confinement in the stuffy railway carriages few could stretch their
limbs. But the military guards set the marching pace and we had to keep
to it. If we lagged we were prodded into activity by means of the rifle.
Sennelager camp lies upon a plateau overlooking the railway, and it is
approached by a winding road. The acclivity although somewhat steep is
not long, but we, famished and worn from hunger, thirst, and lack of
sleep, found the struggle with the sand into which our feet sank over
our ankles, almost insuperable. Those burdened with baggage soon showed
signs of distress. Many were now carrying a parcel for the first time in
their lives and the ordeal completely broke them up. Prince L---- had a
heavy bag, and before he had gone far the soft skin of one hand had been
completely chafed away, leaving a gaping, bleeding wound. To make
matters worse the hot sand was drifting sulkily and clogging his wound
set up untold agony.
Prince L---- made a representation to the officer-in-charge, showing his
bleeding hand, but he was received with a mocking smirk and a curt
command to "Move on!" The weaker burdened prisoners lagged, but the
bayonet revived them. One or two gave out completely, but others, such
as myself, who were not encumbered, extended a helping hand,
half-carrying them up the hill.
Reaching the camp the Commanding Officer, a friendly old General whose
name I never heard, hurried up.
"What's the meaning of this?" he blurted out in amazement.
"Prisoners of war for internment!" replied our officer-in-charge.
"But I don't know anything about them. I have received no instructions.
There is no accommodation for them here!" protested the General.
Our officer produced his imposing sheaf of papers and the two
disappeared into the office.
The feelings of the party at this intelligence may be conceived. The
majority dropped, in a state of semi-collapse in the sand, their
belongings strewn around them, utter dejection written on their faces.
After what I had experienced at Wesel I was prepared for anything. I had
already learned the futility of giving way. I felt no inclination to sit
or lie in the blistering sand. I caught sight of a stretch of inviting
turf, made my way to it, and threw myself down upon it. But I was not to
enjoy the luxury of Nature's couch. A soldier came bustling up and
before I grasped his intentions I was hustled off, with the intimation
that if I wanted to lie down I must do so in the sand.
The fact that no arrangements had been made for our reception was only
too obvious. It was about noon when the two officers disappeared into
the official building to discuss the papers referring to our arrival,
and it was six in the evening before they had come to any decision.
Throughout these six hours we were left lying on the scorching sand in
the broiling sun without a bite of food. Seeing that many of us had
eaten little or nothing since the early evening of the previous day it
is not surprising that the greater part were knocked up. One or two of
us caught sight of the canteen provided for the convenience of recruits,
and succeeded in getting a few mouthfuls, but they were not worth
consideration. I myself whiled away the time by enjoying a wash at the
pump and giving myself the luxury of a shave. I bought a small cake of
coarse soap and never enjoyed an ablution so keenly as that _al fresco_
wash, shave, shampoo, and brush-up at Sennelager. When I came back
thoroughly refreshed I had changed my appearance so completely that I
was scarcely recognised. Even the soldiers looked at me twice to make
sure I was the correct man.
Later a doctor appeared upon the scene. His name was Dr. Ascher, and as
events proved he was the only friend we ever had in the camp. He
enquired if any one felt ill. Needless to say a goodly number, suffering
from hunger, thirst and fatigue, responded to his enquiry. Realising the
reason for their unfortunate plight he bustled up to the Commanding
Officer and emphasised the urgent necessity to give us a meal. But he
was not entirely successful. Then he inspected us one by one, giving a
cheering word here, and cracking a friendly joke there. The hand of
Prince L---- received instant attention, while other slight injuries
were also sympathetically treated. The hearts of one and all went out to
this ministering angel, to whose work and indefatigable efforts on our
behalf I refer in a subsequent chapter.
At last we were ordered to the barracks near by. It was a large masonry
building, each room being provided with beds and straw upon the floor.
Subsequently, however, we were moved to less comfortable quarters where
there were three buildings in one, but subdivided by thick masonry
walls, thereby preventing all intercommunication. Here our sleeping
accommodation comprised bunks, disposed in two tiers, made of wood and
with a sack as a mattress.
Whether it is my natural disposition or ancestral blood I do not know,
but it has ever been my practice in life to emulate Mark Tapley and to
see the humorous aspect of the most depressing situation. The "luxurious
hotel," to which we were consigned according "to the best and most noble
traditions of German honour," moved me to unrestrained mirth, when once
I had taken in our surroundings. My levity fell like a cold water douche
upon my companions, while the guards frowned menacingly. But to me it
was impossible to refrain from an outburst of merriment. It was quite in
accordance with German promises, which are composed of the two
ingredients--uncompromising bluff and unabashed deliberate lying,
leavened with a sprinkling of disarming suavity. I had tasted this
characteristic at Wesel and frankly was not a bit surprised at anything
which loomed up, always resolving at all hazards to make the best of an
uncomfortable position.
Upon turning into our unattractive suite our first proceeding was to
elect a Captain of our barrack. Selection fell upon Mr. K----, as he was
an ideal intermediary, being fluent in the language. We turned in, the
majority being too tired to growl at their lot, but there was precious
little sleep. During the day, the heat at Sennelager in the summer is
intolerable, but during the night it is freezing. Our arrival not having
been anticipated, we had nothing with which to keep ourselves warm. A
few days passed before the luxury of a blanket was bestowed upon us.
The morning after our arrival we drew up an imposing list of complaints
for which we demanded immediate redress. We also expressed in detail our
requirements, which we requested to be fulfilled forthwith. Then we
decided to apportion this part of the camp for cricket, that for general
recreation and so forth. By the time we had completed our intentions,
all of which were carried unanimously, several sheets of foolscap had
been filled, or rather would have been filled had we been possessed of
any paper. This duty completed we set out upon an exploring expedition,
intending to inspect all corners of the camp. But if we thought we were
going to wander whither we pleased we were soon disillusioned. We were
huddled in one corner and our boundaries, although undefined in the
concrete were substantial in the abstract, being imaginary lines run
between sentries standing with loaded rifles and fixed bayonets.
One and all wondered how we should be able to pass away the time. We
could neither write nor read owing to a complete lack of facilities.
Idleness would surely drive us crazy. Our recreations were severely
limited, depending upon our own ingenuity. For the first few days we
could do nothing beyond promenading, discussing the war and our
situation. These two subjects were speedily worn thread-bare since we
knew nothing about the first topic and were only able to speculate
vaguely about the second. The idea of being made to work never entered
our heads for a moment. Were we not civilian prisoners of war: the
victims of circumstances under the shield of the best traditions of
German honour?
But we were not the first arrivals at Sennelager. We were preceded by a
few hours by a party of French soldiers--captives of war. They were
extremely sullen. Travel and battle-stained they crouched and stretched
themselves upon the ground. Whence they came I was never able to
discover. One or two of our party who were versed in the French tongue
endeavoured to draw them into conversation, but to no purpose. They
either replied in vague monosyllables or deliberately ignored the
questions. There is no doubt the poor fellows felt their early capture
very sorely, and had accordingly sunk into the depths of despair. Sulky
and morose they glared fiercely upon any approach, and when they did
anything it was with an ill-grace impossible to describe. Indeed, they
were so downcast that they refused to pay the slightest attention to
their personal appearance, which accentuated their forbidding aspect.
Killing time as best we could, doing nothing soon began to reveal its
ill-effects upon those who, like myself, had always led an active life.
I approached Dr. Ascher, explained that idleness would drive me mad, and
petitioned him to permit me to work in the hospital. I did not care what
the job was so long as it effectively kept me employed. He sympathised
with my suggestion and hurried off to the Commanding Officer. But he
came back shaking his head negatively. The authorities would not
entertain the proposal for an instant.
Suddenly we were paraded. Rakes and brooms were served out to every man
and we were curtly ordered to sweep the roads. We buckled into this
task. But the dust was thick and the day was hot. Soon we were all
perspiring freely. But we were not permitted to rest. Over us was placed
a bull-headed, fierce-looking Prussian soldier armed with a murderous
looking whip. I should think he had been an animal trainer before being
mobilised from the manner in which he cracked that whip. When he saw any
one taking a breather up he came, glaring menacingly and cracking the
whip with the ferocity of a lion-tamer. We evinced a quaint respect for
that whip, and I firmly believe that our guardian inwardly fretted and
fumed because he was denied the opportunity to lay it across our backs.
Several of us nearly got it, however.
We were sweeping away merrily when, suddenly, we gave way to a wild
outburst of mirth. One couldn't sweep for laughing. The guards around us
looked on in wonder.
"Christopher! boys!" I at last blurted out, "We were talking just now
about recreation, and were emphatic about what we were, and were not,
going to do. I reckon this wants a lot of beating for recreation!" The
oddity of the situation so tickled us that we had to collapse from
laughter.
But a warning shout brought us to our feet. Mr. Mobilised Lion Tamer was
bearing down upon us waving his whip. He lashed out. We saw it coming
and dodged. By the time the thong struck the road we were brushing up
dense clouds of dust, singing, whistling, and roaring the words,
"Britons never shall be slaves!"
The dust screen saved us. It was so efficient that the furious guardian
with the whip had to beat a hurried retreat.
One morning we were paraded at six o'clock as usual. The adjutant,
another fierce-visaged Prussian, astride his horse, faced us. With
assumed majesty he roared out an order. The guards closed in. What was
going to happen now?
Amid a tense silence he shouted spluttering with rage:--
"You damned English swine! Yes! You English dogs! You are the cause of
this war, and you will have to suffer for it. We could punish you
severely. But that is not the German way. We could make you work. But
the traditions of German honour forbid. Your Government has gouged out
the eyes of German prisoners who have had the misfortune to fall into
their hands. We don't propose to take those measures. While your
Government has stopped at nothing we are going to show you how Germany
fulfils the traditions of her honour, and respects the laws to which all
civilised nations have subscribed. But remember! We are going to bring
England to her knees. Aren't we, men?"
"Ja! Ja!" (Yes! Yes!) came the wild singing reply from the excited
guards.