THE GUARDIAN OF THE CAMP
Although Major Bach wielded his power with all the severity and spirit
of a true-blooded Prussian Jack-in-Office, and notwithstanding that we
were forbidden all communication with the outside world, yet we were not
without our "protector."
Our guardian angel was Dr. Ascher, who was responsible for the clean
bill of health among the civilian prisoners. The soldiers were under a
military surgeon, as already explained, but owing to the arbitrary
manner in which this official displayed his authority, and with which
Dr. Ascher did not agree by any means, it was the civilian doctor who
ministered for the most part to Tommy's ills. The result was that his
services were in almost universal demand, and the strenuous work and
long hours which he expended on our behalf were very warmly appreciated.
A short, sturdy, thick-set man, fairly fluent in the English language,
and of a cheery disposition, Dr. Ascher was a true and illuminating
representative of his profession. His mission being frankly one of mercy
he emphatically refused to acknowledge the frontiers of races and
tongues, poverty and wealth, education and ignorance. He was sympathetic
to an extreme degree, and never once complained or proffered any excuse
when called urgently to exert a special effort on behalf of any man.
He became an especial favourite among the British prisoners. The fact
that he came among us immediately upon our arrival at the camp, seeking
to extend relief to the sore, distressed, and suffering; his cheery and
breezy conversation; and his grim though unsuccessful efforts to secure
the food which we so urgently needed upon that occasion, were never
forgotten. He became endeared to one and all. Indeed he was elevated to
such a pedestal of appreciative recognition as to be affectionately
christened "The English Doctor," which he accepted as a signal honour.
He was no respecter of time, neither did he emulate his military
colleague in being a clock-watcher. He informed us that he was at our
disposal at any hour of the day or night, and he never omitted to spend
hours among us every day. Seeing that the camp possessed no resident
medical attendant, either civilian or military, that Dr. Ascher resided
near Paderborn, some three miles away, his readiness to come to our
assistance at any moment, his ceaseless efforts on our behalf, and
repeated attempts to ameliorate our conditions, it is not surprising
that we came to regard him as our one friend in that accursed spot.
The British prisoners, both civilian and military, never failed to
reciprocate whenever an opportunity arose, and this appreciation of his
labours made a deep impression upon him. No attempts were ever made to
encroach upon his generosity and kindness, and if any man had dared to
deceive him he would have been drastically punished by his colleagues.
No man ever essayed to malinger or to shirk a duty to which he had been
allotted by the doctor. If the doctor desired a task to be done, no
matter how repugnant, it was shouldered lightly and cheerfully. Indeed,
there was always a manifestation of keen eagerness among us to perform
some duty as an expression of our heartfelt thanks for what he was doing
among us. It is not an exaggeration to state that had it not been for
Dr. Ascher, his perennial bonhomie and camaraderie, his patience, and
his intimate association with us, many of the weaker British prisoners
and others would certainly have given way and have gone under. But his
infectious good spirits, his abundance of jokes, his inexhaustible
fount of humour, and his readiness to exchange reminiscences effectively
dispelled our gloom and relieved us from brooding over the misery of our
position.
Although the medical officer was charged with the express duty of
keeping the camp healthy and sanitary, unfortunately Dr. Ascher was not
an autocrat in his department. His powers were limited, and he was for
the most part completely subservient to military decrees. Time after
time he protested energetically and determinedly upon the quantity and
quality of the food which was served out to us, and struggled valiantly
to secure more nourishing diet for invalid prisoners than the cuisine of
the camp afforded. But his labour was always in vain; the food which he
laid down as being essential could not be obtained, or else Major Bach
firmly refused to move a finger to get it. As the Commandant's position
was paramount, and nothing could be done without his authority, Dr.
Ascher was denied a court of appeal. At times there were some spirited
breezes between Major Bach and the medical representative, but the
former invariably had the last word. On one occasion, to which I refer
later, Dr. Ascher tackled the Commandant so fiercely upon the sanitary
arrangements of the camp, and was so persistent and insistent upon the
fulfilment of the orders he expressed, as to compel the inexorable
superior to relent.
When a man fell ill and became too weak to perform an exacting task to
which he had been deputed by the tyrant, Dr. Ascher did not fail to
intervene. He could not be deceived as to the true state of a sick man's
health and his physical incapacity. Thereupon he would issue what was
described as a "pass," which excused the man completely from the heavy
work in hand in favour of some lighter duty. The doctor's "pass" was
safe against the Commandant's savagery; even he, with his military
authority, dared not over-ride the doctor's decision. However, the
British prisoners were not disposed to trade upon the doctor's good
nature. They would refuse a "pass" until necessity compelled unequivocal
submission.
Dr. Ascher was also an effective buffer between a prisoner and any
soldier who was disposed to assume an unwarrantably tyrannical attitude.
If he detected any brow-beating which was undeserved he never hesitated
to bring the upstart down to his proper position by severe reprimand,
and a candid reminder that a guard was merely a guard and as such was
not invested with powers akin to those belonging to the Commandant. The
soldier would fume under the castigation, but it was more than he dared
to incur the doctor's wrath and hostility, inasmuch as the latter would
not have hesitated to make the rebellious soldier's life unbearable. In
this manner he undeniably saved us from considerable brutality, which
some of the soldiers would dearly have loved to have expended upon us.
One day Major Bach announced that the clothes of the prisoners
throughout the camp were to undergo a thorough fumigation. For this
purpose a special mechanical disinfecting apparatus had been sent to the
camp. I may say that the instructions were not issued before they became
downright urgent. Some of the garments--not those worn by the British
prisoners--had become infested with vermin to such a degree as to
constitute a plague and were now absolutely repulsive. Two of the
British prisoners, who happened to be engineers, were selected for this
unpleasant task, and it proved to be of such a trying nature that both
men narrowly escaped suffocation in the process.
But the disinfecting apparatus was delivered in what we always found to
be the typical German manner. The fumigator came to hand but without the
engine to drive it. Two or three days later we were informed that there
was a traction engine at Paderborn which was to be brought into
Sennelager Camp to act as the stationary engine to supply power to the
fumigator. But to our dismay we learned that the traction engine in
question could not be driven to the camp under its own power because
some of the vital parts constituting its internals had broken down, and
repairs would be quite out of the question until it reached the camp.
This we were told would demand the towage of the engine over the last
three miles. We learned, moreover, that as horses were absolutely
unobtainable at any price, the prisoners themselves would have to drag
it in. Forthwith thirty men were selected and, equipped with thick,
heavy ropes, were marched off to Paderborn to salvage the derelict.
Our engineering friends, upon discovering the defective engine, and not
appreciating the prospect of the manual haul, set to work feverishly to
see if they could not contrive to complete sufficient repairs to coax
the engine to run the three miles under her own steam. They probed into,
and tinkered with the dark regions of the locomotive, but to no effect.
The defective parts demanded replacement. No doubt the authorities had
declared the engine unfit for service in the army, hence its appearance
at Paderborn for service at Sennelager.
We were faced with a heavy problem; one which would require every ounce
of our combined physical effort, which was low owing to our deplorable
condition, while the sun, heat, and dusty roads would be certain to tax
our endurance to the utmost.
The guards bustled round, supervising the hitching of the towing ropes,
while the men were lined up like oxen with the ropes passed over their
shoulders. The order was given and off we went. But that engine was, or
at least appeared to be, exceedingly heavy, while the roads seemed to be
exasperatingly difficult, the wheels having a magnetic attraction for
the sand. Progress was maddeningly slow, and before many minutes had
passed every man was puffing and blowing like a spent horse. A cup of
acorn coffee and a fragment of brown bread could scarcely be declared
ideal fare upon which to pursue such energy-consuming labour. And we had
three miles to go!
We had covered about half the distance and were nearly done in. The
ponderous, ungainly engine was just moving, and that was about all. The
progress had so fallen that the guards were becoming somewhat alarmed
and doubtless considered that if they only badgered us sufficiently they
would be able to spur us to such a degree as to enable us to reach the
camp.
While tugging for all we were worth we descried a horse flying along the
road at break-neck pace towards us. As it approached we saw it was
carrying Dr. Ascher. When he drew up to us he stopped. The guards were
holding forth in their most truculent manner at the moment. The doctor
rapped out a few words, and the guards instantly dropped their hostility
and arrogance to become as meek as lambs. Turning to us the doctor
ordered every man to drop the ropes. We did so and fell into line at
once of our own accord.
The doctor surveyed us, and we must have looked miserable specimens of
humanity. Our faces were glistening with perspiration which had been
pouring out of us freely, and which, mixing with the grimy sand which
had been enveloping us, had formed runnels wrought into a wild and weird
variety of fantastic designs. One or two of the weaker boys stood
half-bent as if upon the verge of dropping.
Within a few seconds the doctor had taken in the whole situation, and
saw how completely we were played out. With a voice which cut like a
knife he ordered the guard to escort us to a wayside inn. The soldiers,
thoroughly cowed, obeyed his instructions silently. He strode along
beside us, distracting our thoughts by a dissertation concerning the
countryside, which was bathed in the full splendour of its autumn garb,
and which certainly presented a peaceful and entrancing aspect.
Reaching the inn we seated ourselves on the balcony. Then the doctor,
turning, remarked:
"Order what you like! Don't stint yourselves and take your time. Now
then have anything you wish to drink!"
If our guards had been sufficiently relenting, we would willingly have
paid them for permission to have regaled ourselves by the way at our own
expense. We all had money. At the doctor's instructions we dived our
hands into our pockets to extract our worldly wealth to ascertain what
we could afford. The doctor arrested our action.
"No!" he called out, raising his hand in protest. "Put your money back.
You will have this with me. I extended the invitation and I certainly
intend to pay for it!"
If any man had called for cheers for the doctor I think we should have
brought the house down about our ears. But we were so dumbfounded at
this first expression of a "white man's" action which we had encountered
in Germany, that we could not utter a sound. We merely sat like a party
of expectant school-children at a Sunday school treat.
The doctor busied himself seeing that each man received an adequate
quantity of refreshment, and that it was according to his fancy. I
myself being an abstainer, declined the beverage which was popular and
which was being keenly enjoyed. Observing that I was drinking nothing he
hurried over.
"Where's your beer?"
"Sorry, doctor, but I do not take alcohol!"
Without a word he swung on his heel, hailed the landlord, and enquired
for some home-made lemonade. Boniface was sorry but he was unable to
oblige. But the doctor was not to be put off. He curtly ordered the
landlord to prepare some instantly and what is more to the point he
followed him to see that it was brewed correctly.
After the meal he insisted that we should take a brief rest to assist
its digestion, which, owing to the weakened condition of our organs, was
no easy matter. Then, when we all felt fit, we returned to the traction
engine. You can imagine how we clustered round the doctor thanking him
for his kindness, but he would not listen to our expressions of
gratitude. Laughing good-naturedly, he maintained that he had done
nothing beyond what he considered to be his duty, and as we shouldered
the ropes once more, he gave us a parting cheer.
That meal put new life into us, and we towed the load with such gusto
that we covered the second lap of the distance in fine style. When we
reached the camp and were dismissed, the incident about the doctor's
munificence flashed through to its four corners like lightning. It
became the one topic of spirited conversation. We had always voted the
doctor a jolly good fellow, but now he was the hero of the hour. When he
next came into the camp he received such a thundering and spontaneous
ovation as to startle him, until at last the reason for this outburst
dawned upon him. But he turned it off with his characteristic laugh and
joke.
The privations which I had been suffering now began to assert their ill
effects. I felt I was breaking up rapidly, and in this every one
concurred and grew anxious. The doctor took me in hand, placed me on a
"pass" and at last ordered me to lie down in the barrack. Two of my
companions, Ca----, a breezy Irishman who had been arrested while on his
honey-moon, and K----, undertook to look after me. As the night advanced
I rapidly grew worse, until eventually my illness assumed such a turn,
so I was informed afterwards, as to cause my two friends the greatest
alarm. Ca---- went out to the guard with a message addressed to Dr.
Ascher, explaining that Mahoney was very much worse and they feared his
condition was critical. By some means or other the message was got
through to the doctor, possibly by telephone.
It was a vile night. A terrific thunderstorm was raging, and the rain
was falling in torrents. After dispatching their message my two friends
resumed their vigil beside my bed, hoping against hope that Dr. Ascher
would call early the following morning.
About midnight the mad galloping of a horse was heard faintly above the
wail of the wind and the fusillade of the mad downpour upon our
hollow-sounding roof. The sounds drew nearer to stop outside our barrack
door. A hurried conversation was heard, and the next moment, to the
surprise of my two friends, the door opened to admit Dr. Ascher. The
rain was pouring off him in tiny rivulets and he cheerily confessed that
he was soaked to the skin. But he pooh-poohed the idea that he had taken
too much trouble. A fellow-creature was in peril and he could not, as a
doctor, resist the call which had been sent. He stayed with me some
time, told my companions exactly what to do, and then went out again
into the rainstorm with the parting intimation that he would return
within a few hours, and would arrange for my instant transference to the
hospital.
At six he was back again. By this time I had recovered from my delirium
and felt somewhat better, although exceedingly weak. He chatted with me,
told me I was far worse than I either looked or felt, and insisted upon
my going into hospital. I demurred, as I preferred to be among my chums.
But he was not to be gainsaid, and so I had reluctantly to be carried
into bed. He came to see me frequently during the day, and even went so
far as to assume the responsibility of telegraphing to Berlin demanding
my instant release as my demise seemed very probable. But this request
was curtly refused, mainly, so I discovered afterwards, because I was
imprisoned upon the charge of espionage. The circumstance that this
charge was still hanging over my head came as an ugly eye-opener to me.
I thought from my transference from Wesel to Sennelager that I had been
acquitted of this accusation. Of course I had never received any
official intimation to this effect, but on the other hand I had never
received a sentence. This revelation worried me somewhat sorely because
I could see possibilities about which I scarcely dared to think, as well
as complications untold looming ahead.
I must have been in a very precarious condition the previous night
because a member of a well-known British family who had been interned at
Sennelager, but who secured his release about this time, very kindly
sought out one of my relatives upon his return home, to whom he
communicated particulars concerning my illness and serious condition. He
hesitated to notify my wife directly, preferring to leave it to my
relative to convey the unwelcome news in the manner considered to be the
most advisable. For this kindly action, of which I was apprised after my
transference from Sennelager, I have ever been extremely thankful, but
up to the present I have successfully evaded all the most insidious
attempts made by my German captors to secure my premature decease by
undermining my health.
Before leaving me in hospital for the night Dr. Ascher paid me a final
visit to make positive that I was comfortable. But that one night's
sojourn in the hospital almost completely unnerved me. I could not
sleep, and to my alarm I found that no one ever came in to take even a
cursory glance at the patients. I got up in the darkness and went to the
door. To my astonishment I found it to be locked! I turned to one cot.
It contained a French invalid who was jabbering away excitedly to
himself, but I could not understand a single word. I turned to the next
bed and its occupant was half-delirious. With such depressing company
around me I tumbled back into bed and went off to sleep again somehow.
In the morning I learned that there were three intercommunicating wards.
The two inner ones were reserved for patients, upon whom the key was
turned at night, while the third and outer room was occupied by a night
warder who turned in and slept the sleep of the just, although he was
nominally in charge of critical cases. But this was immaterial. If the
patient went under during the night to be found dead in bed in the
morning--well! it was merely a case of Nature having had her own way.
I was so alarmed that the instant the hospital was opened I hurried back
to my barrack. Dr. Ascher, upon reaching the hospital and noting my
absence, wondered what had happened, until at last he found me resting
in my bunk. I resolutely told him that under no circumstances would I
spend another night in that hospital. I had my own way. The crisis had
passed, and if I only took care of myself I would soon be out again, he
said.
Having always led an active life, confinement to bed in utter loneliness
during the day, except for a call now and again from a sympathetic
colleague, soon began to pall. So I dressed and went out to discover Dr.
Ascher. He did not upbraid me for so flagrantly disobeying his orders,
as I had been anticipating, but exhorted me with all the powers of
persuasion he could command, to take the utmost care of myself. In order
to give me something to occupy my mind he attached me to a few other
invalids, who were also on "pass," to light work in cleaning out the
hospitals for the recruits who were evidently coming to Sennelager
within the near future.
Cleaning hospitals might be officially described as light work, but it
was far from being so, although this was not the fault of the doctor but
of our far from amiable Commandant. The tables, beds, chairs and other
portable fixtures had to be taken into the open air to receive a
thorough scrubbing with water and soft soap. We were given buckets, and
were compelled to walk some distance to draw supplies of water from the
pump, to which place we also had to repair to throw away the dirty
liquid, so that we were assured of an exacting load upon both journeys.
The guard supervising us in this work was a despicable young cub. He was
short and stubby. By the way I must relate that this individual
illustrated one of the weird turns of the Wheel of Fortune as revealed
by the war. I have already referred to F---- K----, who had accompanied
me from Wesel prison to Sennelager. What was F---- K----'s amazement to
discover, upon entering the camp, that this man, who formed one of the
guards, had been one of his own van-men before the war. It was a
remarkable instance of the reversal of positions. The erstwhile van-man
was now the top-dog and he did not hesitate to extract endless amusement
and delight from ordering the prisoners, among whom was his former
employer, to despicable duties and harassing them right and left.
I had one bout with this impertinent little bounder which I do not think
he will ever forget. It was the result of exasperation and was
precipitated upon the spur of the moment with subsequent disastrous
results.
I was carrying a bucket of water back to the pump to throw away and to
secure a fresh supply. As I approached the pump, which was near an
adjoining field, and over the fence of which some young girls were
leaning talking to the sentry, I saw that they were having some fun at
my expense. I resented this laughter and merriment, more particularly as
I was feeling very seedy.
The guard, to parade his assumed authority before the girls, drew
himself to the full height of his fifty-four inches or thereabouts,
threw out his chest, and as I was about to empty the bucket, roared in
stentorian tones:
"Take that back again!"
"But I am going to fill the bucket with clean water!" I protested.
"Did you hear what I said? I told you to take it back again!" to which
he added an afterthought which I did not understand, but which induced
the girls to burst out laughing afresh with mad glee.
I ignored his instructions and was about to turn out the dirty contents.
My temper somewhat ruffled by illness and now very hasty was rising
rapidly. He moved forward and thundered:--
"Cannot you obey orders? Take it back again, I tell you!"
I picked up the bucket as if to comply and stepped back a pace or two.
Then lifting it up I shouted back,
"I'll see you damned first!"
With these words I hurled the contents over him. The water was filthy.
It caught him full in the face and smothered him from head to foot.
He was so surprised at this unexpected sequel to his arrogant order that
he merely stood still, spluttering and cursing. Then he grabbed his
rifle. At the same moment I threw the bucket itself at him, catching him
a nasty blow on the shoulder. The girls who had been laughing at me now
chaffed the discomfited sentry unmercifully. Foaming with rage and
swearing terribly he lowered his rifle to run me through with the
bayonet.
It was madness to argue with a bayonet in the hands of an infuriated
German sentry. I turned and fled. Being long of leg, thin, and agile, I
ran with the swiftness of a hare while my pursuer being short-legged and
thick-set came trundling after me like a cart-horse. I tore towards the
hospital, vaulted over the chairs and tables, and darted in and out,
with the sentry, now beginning to blow hard from his unusual exertion,
hot on my trail. In my mad rush I upset some of my companions, but they,
instantly guessing something unusual was afoot as they caught sight of
my flying coat-tails and the heavy-footed soldier chasing me, at once
entered into the spirit of the fun.
L----, our humorist, was one of the party. Jumping on a table he
commenced to yell frantically:
"Sennelager Derby! What's the odds? Twenty to one on Mahoney! Go it,
Tubby! Christopher, but you'll never stay the course!"
The cries were taken up by the other fellows and excitement grew
furious, which only served to exasperate my pursuer still more.
I was flying for dear life. I knew very well, if that sentry got within
bayonet reach of me, that my days were ended. He was seeing red with a
vengeance. Round the hospital, over the tables and chairs, I dashed as
if bereft. I was looking for the doctor. I had long since learned that
in the event of a disagreement with a sentry it was wise to be first
beside the ears of authority and to relate the incident. The first
version, whether from guard or prisoner, was almost certain to be
believed.
Once as I came tearing round the hospital calling for one of the medical
officers, L---- and his companions, now emulating the frenzied language
and manners of racecourse frequenters, and forming field glasses with
their hands, were bawling at the tops of their voices.
"Tattenham Corner! Hooray! Mahoney wins!"
At that moment I ran full tilt, not into Dr. Ascher as I had hoped, but
against a young military doctor. I almost upset him in this spirited
desperate obstacle race.
"What's the matter now?" he asked in surprise.
As this young doctor had always proved to be a decent fellow I stopped
and related my story. He listened very attentively.
"You had no business to do that!" he commented. "You should have obeyed
the order and then have reported it to me or some other officer to be
redressed."
"Well, he just about maddened me to the limit!"
"No matter! It may be a serious thing for you. You shouldn't have thrown
the dirty water over him. You've insulted the uniform!"
By this time my pursuer had arrived. He was puffing heavily and his legs
were bent. He could not have run another hundred yards even if a dozen
battle-maddened Kilties had been after him. Catching sight of the
doctor he pulled himself to "attention" as well as he could. I had to
turn away to laugh. He presented the most ludicrous specimen of a German
soldier that I have ever witnessed. His face was as red as a beet-root
from his exertion, his eyes were wide open, while his mouth was fully
agape. He could not utter a word as he had lost his breath, while being
soddened from head to foot he was commencing to steam merrily.
When he had partially recovered his composure he related his version of
the story in a meek tone, no doubt hoping to excite pity. But I noticed
that the young medical officer had to bite his moustache to maintain a
straight face and I think this practically saved the situation.
"Who gave you permission to give orders to prisoners?" asked the officer
severely.
The sentry's dismay at the officer rounding upon him was so complete
that he could not venture an answer.
"Don't let it occur again or I'll report you!" continued the doctor
sternly. "Don't you know your duty is to obey orders and not to give
them!" he thundered with an effort. The sentry dismissed so
unceremoniously slunk away miserably and absolutely crestfallen.
When the soldier had gone the officer turned upon me and lectured me
severely, though sympathetically, upon the enormity of my offence. While
he was speaking, Dr. Ascher sauntered up and the incident was related to
him. Turning to me with a gravity which I could see was assumed, he
remarked:
"Mahoney, if you get up to such tricks again you'll get into serious
trouble. You must never forget the uniform!"
As I turned to resume work I noticed the two medical men having a hearty
silent laugh over the whole affair, the younger man graphically
describing the blown sentry and race as he had seen it.
But Dr. Ascher did not let the matter rest there. He reported the sentry
for exceeding his orders, which was a serious offence because it
affected the doctor's discipline over prisoners who were under his
charge at the hospitals. All the reward and consolation the insolent cub
received for his parade of assumed authority before his audience of
girls was change to another duty, coupled with severe reprimand. Through
Dr. Ascher's intervention the sentry was deprived of all opportunity to
snatch a revenge upon me. Such actions, however, were characteristic of
Dr. Ascher. It was his love of fair-play which endeared him to every
Britisher in the camp. Whenever one of us left Sennelager there was no
man from whom to part was such a wrench as Dr. Ascher. We all grew to
like and admire him to such a degree that it seemed to be parting from a
very dear and old friend when we shook hands in farewell with him.