FREE ON "PASS" IN COLOGNE
It was two o'clock in the afternoon when I saw the last of Sennelager
Camp as the train swung round a curve which blotted the Avernus over
which Major Bach reigned supreme from sight if not from memory. The
train in which we were travelling, of course, was wholly occupied by
Germans. I found it impossible to secure a seat owing to the crowded
character of the carriages, and as misfortune would have it I was
compelled to stand until I reached my destination.
Naturally being thrown among so many of the enemy I was regarded with a
strange interest by my fellow-travellers. They could see I was not a
German, and although they did not resort to any provocative word or
deed, it would have needed a blind man to have failed to detect their
uncompromising hostility towards me. We travelled _via_ Soest, and my
position was rendered additionally unnerving because train after train
labelled with the flaming Red Cross thundered by, bearing their heavy
loads of the German battered and maimed from the battlefields. It was
easy to see that the number of the train-loads of wounded was exercising
a peculiar effect upon the passengers, for was not this heavy toll of
war and the crushed and bleeding flower of the German army coming from
the front where the British were so severely mauling the invincible
military machine of Europe and disputing effectively their locust-like
advance over the fair fields of Belgium and Northern France? Is it
surprising under the circumstances that they glowered and frowned at me
in a disconcerting and menacing manner?
[Illustration: Facsimile of the Pass issued by the German authorities to
the author on his leaving Sennelager for Cöln-on-Rhein.]
As the hours rolled by I began to feel fainter and hungrier. I had had
nothing since the usual cup of acorn coffee at seven in the morning.
Although I became so weak that I felt as if I must drop, I buoyed up my
flagging spirits and drooping body by the thought that I should soon
meet and enjoy the company of K----. But I was aboard a fourth-class
train and it appeared to be grimly determined to set up a new record for
slow-travelling even for Germany. The result was that I did not reach
Cologne, or Köln, as the Germans have it, until one o'clock the
following morning, having stood on my feet for eleven hours and without
a bite to eat.
I fell rather than stepped from the train and turned out of the station.
Again my spirits sank. The city was wrapped in a darkness which could be
felt. There was not a glimmer of light to be seen anywhere. To pick
one's way through a strange city in a strange land and without more than
a bare smattering of the language under conditions of inky blackness was
surely the supreme ordeal. At every few steps I blundered against a
soldier with his loaded rifle and fixed bayonet, ready to lunge at
anything and everything which, to a highly strung German military mind,
appeared to assume a tangible form in the intense blackness. Since my
return home I have experienced some striking specimens of British
darkened towns, but they do not compare with the complete darkness which
prevailed in Cologne that night. Not a single faint gleam of light came
from a window. I am confident that if I had dared to strike a match I
should have been surprised by a volley of bullets from all directions.
Cologne was indeed a city of darkness and of the dead. Only the
footfalls of the guard and the clank of rifles were to be heard. To
proceed was impossible. I concluded that before I had gone very far in
my wanderings I should be arrested and find myself in the privacy of a
prison cell. Moreover I was absolutely exhausted. Sore at heart I
returned to the station, and walking up to the first officer I saw,
introduced myself as "Mahoney, late of Sennelager Camp."
At this revelation the officer stared as if confronted by an apparition
and sternly demanded my authority for being at large. I drew out my
"pass," together with the address of K----, for which I was searching so
vainly.
Thrusting my "pass" into his pocket the officer gruffly ordered me to
follow him. I demanded the return of the small piece of paper which
constituted my sole protection, but he rudely declined to accede to my
request. I followed him and we turned into a room at the station which
happened to be the sleeping quarters of the night guard.
Here I was again interrogated somewhat sharply, but taking the bull by
the horns I boldly declared that I was an Englishman and had been
arrested and imprisoned upon the charge of being a spy!
My candid statement amazed the officer, who appeared to consider that he
had made a most fortunate capture. An interpreter, who understood only a
little English, was summoned to my assistance, and we contrived to
understand one another. He was visibly impressed by my distressed and
sickly appearance and enquired if I were in need of something to eat. I
said I was famished and he explained the situation to the officer. The
upshot was that a few of those present gave me some bread and cold rice,
which I devoured ravenously.
I was handed over to a guard who was instructed to take me--somewhere?
We set out through the dark streets, and it was an eerie journey.
Sentries were stationed at intervals of a few yards and in crossing the
bridge we were frequently stopped and not permitted to proceed until my
guardian, although in uniform and armed, had given the password. In due
course we reached a towering building which I discovered to be the
Polizei Prasidium. Here I was handed over to the official in charge, my
military guard evidently explaining the whole circumstances.
The official scrutinised me closely. Bidding me to follow him he again
plunged into the darkness. After taking me to the address of K----,
which I had produced, and finding no one there, he led me to a
restaurant. The proprietor was roused and ordered to take me in for the
night. When he learned that I was an Englishman on "pass" he commenced
to swear and curse in a fearful manner, finally declaring he would not
shelter any such swine in his house. The official had a short way with
this individual. He drew his sword, drove the awakened and enraged
German into his restaurant, and in a tone which could not be
misconstrued demanded that accommodation and meals should be found for
me. The threatening attitude of the officer completely cowed the
proprietor, but I, fearing that the latter would round on me once I was
at his mercy, intimated to the guard that I was not going to spend the
night in this hotel.
There was a brief altercation, but at last we returned to the Prasidium.
Here I intimated that I was perfectly willing to sleep upon the floor of
the guard-room, but the official explained that this was a flagrant
breach of the rules and the idea could not be entertained for a moment.
We haggled for a few minutes and then a solution of the distracting
problem occurred to the officer. He would lodge me for the night in a
cell! I accepted the suggestion with alacrity and thereupon passed below
where I made myself comfortable, the official assisting me as much as he
could.
It seemed as if I had only just dropped off to sleep when I was rudely
awakened. It was six o'clock when prisoners had to be roused, and
although I was not a prisoner, but had slept in the cell from my own
choice, I had to conform with the regulations. I was turned out into the
street, without a bite of food, needless to say, to kick my heels about
for some two hours until the business offices opened. I seized the
opportunity to have a shave and hair-cut as well as a thorough wash and
brush up.
About 8.30 I presented myself at my friend's office. To my surprise he
responded to my ring himself and at once introduced me to his wife, who
had come into the city with him that morning. I was warmly greeted but
my thin and wan appearance affected them, especially Mrs. K----. I then
discovered why I had failed to rouse him in the early hours of the
morning when accompanied by the officer from the police station. He did
not live in Cologne but in a pretty and quiet little residential village
overlooking the Rhine some three miles out.
Taking pity upon me they insisted that I should at once proceed to their
home, but before this could be done certain formalities demanded
attention. My "pass" was only applicable to the city of Cologne and did
not embrace the outlying places. We had to return to the police
headquarters, corresponding to our Scotland Yard, for this purpose. Here
my papers were turned out and subjected to the usual severe scrutiny,
while I myself was riddled with questions. At last, through the good
offices of K----, who was well-known to the officials, I received
permission to proceed to his residence. This necessitated our being
accompanied to his home by two detectives who furthermore were to see
that I received the necessary local "pass" for the villa in question.
Notwithstanding the depressing company of the detectives I thoroughly
enjoyed that ride along the banks of the Rhine. It was a glorious
morning and the countryside was at the height of its alluring autumnal
beauty. Reaching the village I was taken before the Burgermeister, a
pompous individual, to undergo another searching cross-questioning, but
ultimately the "pass" was granted. At the same time my "pass" for
Cologne was withdrawn. I had either to live, move, and have my being in
one place or the other--not both--and was not to be permitted to travel
between the two places.
I must digress a moment to explain one feature of German administration
and the much vaunted Teuton organisation, which is nothing more nor less
than a huge joke, although it is unfortunately quite devoid of humour
for the luckless victim. In times of war, Germany is subdivided into
districts, each of which receives the specific number of an Army Corps.
Thus there is Army Corps No. 1, Army Corps No. 2, and so on. It is just
as if, under similar exigencies, the names of the counties in Great
Britain were abandoned for the time being in favour of a military
designation, Middlesex thus becoming Army Corps No. 1, Surrey No. 2, and
so on, the counties being numbered consecutively.
Each Army Corps has its commanding officer and he has absolute control
over the territory assigned to him, the movement of its inhabitants,
strangers and visitors. But the strange and humorous fact about the
whole system is that each commanding officer is a little autocrat and
extremely jealous of his colleague in the adjacent Army Corps. The
commander of Army Corps No. 1 issues a "pass" which entitles you to move
about freely in his district.
When Major Bach presented me with my "pass," he gravely warned me always
to have it upon my person, to show it upon demand, but never to allow it
out of my possession even for a minute, and if it should be taken for
inspection to insist upon its return at once. He assured me that the
mere production of the "pass" and the signature would permit me to go
wherever I liked, and to move to and fro throughout Germany. I firmly
believed his statement until I received my first rude shock to the
contrary. As a final warning he stated that if I happened to be stopped
by a soldier or anyone else and had not my "pass" with me, I should find
myself in an extremely serious position. Naturally I hung on to that
little piece of paper as tenaciously as if it had been a million pound
bank-note.
The Commanding Officer of an Army Corps always iterates this little
speech, I discovered. Naturally you leave the official, completely
relieved, thinking yourself virtually free. But the moment you cross the
boundary into another Army Corps you are held up. The official demands
to know why you are walking about a free man. You flourish the "pass"
signed by "A" in triumph, and with a chortle, point to the signature.
The official scans the "pass," shakes his head sagely, and with a curt
"Come with me!" orders you to follow him. You protest energetically, and
point to the signature. He shakes his head emphatically as he growls
"No! No!" and continues, referring to the owner of the signature on your
"pass," "we know nothing about him! You must see my Commanding Officer."
Reaching this official, who regards you as a criminal who has escaped,
you suddenly learn that the "pass" is not a passport for your movement
through Germany, but is valid only for the Army Corps in which it was
issued!
Consignment to prison is the inevitable sequel. You may protest until
you are black in the face, but it makes no difference. The papers which
you signed day after day until you became sick at the sight of them, but
which were necessary to secure your first "pass," commence their lengthy
and tedious trip through the German Circumlocution Office, the trip
occupying weeks. During this time you are kept in prison and treated as
if you were a common felon, until at last, everything being declared to
be in order, you receive a new "pass" for the Army Corps in which you
have been arrested. The moment you venture into another Army Corps, even
if you return into that from which you were first released, arrest
follows and the whole exasperating rigmarole has to be repeated. The
Army Corps are as arbitrarily defined as anything to be found in
tape-tied Germany.
I do not think that such a wildly humorous feature of organisation to
compare with this is to be found in any other part of the world. Had it
not been for the deliberate misleading, or to term it more accurately,
unblushing lying, upon the part of the respective commanding officers of
the respective Army Corps, the British tourists who happened to be in
Germany when war broke out would have got home safely. Being ignorant of
German manners, customs, and military idiosyncrasies, and placing a
blind faith in German assertion and scraps of paper, the unfortunate
travellers fell into the trap which undoubtedly had been prepared to
meet such conditions.
The British tourists who were caught in eastern Germany, after their
first arrest and release upon one of these despicable and fraudulent
passes, being reassured by the intimation that they were free to go
where they pleased, naturally thought they would be able to hurry home,
and straightaway moved towards the coast. But directly they entered the
adjacent Army Corps they suffered arrest and imprisonment until their
papers were declared to be in order to permit another "pass" to be
issued. Thus it went on, the tourists being successively held up,
delayed, and released. Under these conditions progress to the coast was
exasperatingly slow, and finally was summarily prevented by the drastic
order of the German Government demanding the internment of every
Britisher in the country. It was this senseless and ridiculous
manifestation of German scientific organisation gone mad which
contributed to the congested nature of the civilian internment camps in
the country, and one cannot resist the conclusion that the practice was
brought into force with the deliberate intention of hindering the return
of Britishers who happened to be in the country when war was declared.
At the peaceful residence of my friend overlooking the Rhine, of the
full beauties of which I still cherish a vivid and warm appreciation, I
mended very rapidly. To Mr. and Mrs. K---- I owe a debt of gratitude
which I shall never be able to repay. I entered their home half-starved,
extremely weak, and practically at death's door, but under the careful
nursing and unremitting attention of Mrs. K---- and her husband I
speedily recovered. I had been suffering considerable mental worry,
having received news that my wife at home was seriously ill, but [*gap]
I received a letter, the first since I had left home on August 1st,
which communicated the glad tidings that she had completely recovered
her health. The receipt of that letter banished all anxiety and
fretfulness from my mind. Indeed at the end of a month I felt capable of
tempting fate upon my own initiative once more. I felt that I was
encroaching upon the generosity and hospitality of my newly-found
friends, and this feeling commenced to harass me.
One morning I expressed to K---- my intention to go into Cologne to look
for work. He endeavoured to dissuade me, pointing out that my "pass"
would not permit me to move beyond the limits of the little village, but
I was not to be gainsaid. I felt I could not show sufficient
appreciation for what they had done on my behalf, or discharge the debt
of obligation which I owed to them.
I started off one morning, full of hope and energy, determined to get a
job at all hazards. But that search for work proved to be the most
heart-breaking quest I have ever attempted. I realised that my limited
knowledge of German would bowl me out. All that I knew I had picked up
colloquially while interned at Sennelager, and although it was adequate
to enable me to hold a general conversation, it was hopelessly
insufficient for commercial purposes. Consequently I decided to pretend
to be deaf and dumb.
I entered every shop in the main thoroughfare of Cologne in succession.
I was ready and willing to accept any position, irrespective of its
character. I blundered into an undertaker's premises, which I
subsequently learned to be the largest firm in this line in the city,
and patronised by the rank and fashion of Cologne. I endeavoured to
explain the object of my visit to the proprietor by mimicking
nail-hammering and pointing to a coffin. He invited me into his inner
office where, to my alarm, I descried an officer's uniform hanging
behind the door, and evidently belonging to the proprietor who was about
to join the colours. I decided to make myself scarce with all speed, but
I had to act warily to avoid suspicion.
The proprietor trotted out an elaborate catalogue. He thought I had
come to order a coffin! Being arrayed in a frock coat and somewhat
burnished up, I suppose I had the appearance of a possible customer. I
had led him to believe that I could not speak, but now I assured him
that my real infirmity was very acute stammering. I glanced through
the catalogue carefully so as to arouse no suspicions, to alight upon
a specimen of the handicraft which cost 1,000 marks--£50--and with
apparent effort stuttered that I would consult my brother upon the
matter. I left the shop with my heart in my mouth, but gaining the
street in safety, I put as great a distance between the shop and
myself as I could.
I offered my services indiscriminately to a boot-maker, grocer,
confectioner--in fact I can scarcely recall what trade I did not
strive to enter, but always in vain. Finally I entered a fashionable
hairdresser's establishment. By signs and with considerable labour I
finally made my mission known, and at last ascertained that an
assistant was required, and I could present myself the following
morning. I went off treading on air, absolutely delighted with my
success. In fact I was so elated as to omit to notice that this shop
was in one of the three streets forming a triangle and an island in a
"Y" formed by the two main thoroughfares.
The next morning I returned to the city with my solitary razor in my
pocket--I had been instructed to bring my own kit. I entered the shop
but was decidedly puzzled at the sight of strange faces. This I
attributed to the rush which was prevailing having brought men to the
front whom I had not seen the day before. I proffered my razor to
explain that I had come to start work as arranged. The assistant took
it, and told me it would be ready on the following morning. He thought
I wanted it to be ground and set! Not being able to make myself
understood I went outside, looked at the facia, and found I had gone
to the wrong address. The shop for which I had been engaged was on the
other side of the triangle. I hurried in, to be received with a scowl
by the proprietor, who pointed significantly to the clock to intimate
that I was very late.
However, the proprietor donned his hat and coat and took me to another
shop in a distant part of the city. It was one of his branches. I was
to be employed here, but I knew no more about hair-dressing than about
the fourth dimension. Still I thought I could fulfil the rôle of
lather-boy very effectively.
To my consternation, after lathering one or two customers, I was
ordered to complete the shaving operation. My heart thumped because I
wondered how the unfortunate German client would fare in my unskilled
hands. Bracing myself up I completed the task without a hitch,
although I do not think the customer looked any better after I had
finished with him than he did before.
But the succeeding customer encountered disaster. The razor made a
slip, inflicting a terrible gash in the man's ear.
Pandemonium was let loose. The blood spurted out, smothering my shirt
cuff. The customer raved and swore like a Fury, while the manager,
losing his head, dashed up with a handful of powdered alum which he
strove to apply to the wound, but made a sorry mess of the effort,
because it fell in a shower over the customer's immaculate clothes,
causing him to present the appearance which would have ensued had he
fouled a bag of flour. I surveyed the scene of the disaster for a few
seconds, but observing the customer to be absorbing the complete
attention of the manager I unconcernedly invited the next customer to
take the chair, which he politely declined.
In the course of a few minutes an unsuspecting individual entered and
took the empty seat. I lathered him well, and picked up a razor. But my
hand was now exceedingly unsteady. I caught a glimpse of my soiled shirt
cuff and decided to incur no further risks. I seized my hat and bolted
from the shop.
In my haste I inadvertently infringed another rigid regulation--I
boarded a tram-car in motion. For this misdemeanour I was rated severely
by the conductor. But as I emphasised my deaf and dumb infirmity he
ceased, doubtless feeling that his energy was being wasted. To my
consternation a friend of mine boarded this car, which was proceeding
toward his home, and he at once commenced a conversation. I was on my
guard, and by a surreptitious whisper, I told him of my deaf and dumb
subterfuge. When we reached our destination I related my adventure,
revealing my soiled and blood-stained shirt cuff as corroboration. As I
described the incident he burst into uncontrollable laughter, but then
his face became grave. He felt convinced that a complaint would be
lodged, and that investigation would follow. If I were detected in the
street trouble would ensue, so he urged me to return to my new home and
to lie low for a few days to permit things to blow over.
Another day I was alighting from a tram, when I heard a voice calling
quietly but firmly, "Mein Herr! Mein Herr!" There was no mistaking the
tones. They were so palpably official as not to raise a moment's
doubting. I refrained from looking round, proceeding as if I had not
heard the hail, although I did not quicken my step. But the "Mein Herr!"
continued to ring out persistently, and at last the speaker touched me
on the arm. I turned and, as I had anticipated, was confronted by an
officer.
He demanded to know why I was walking about Cologne. He saw that I was a
Britisher and so responded to the call of his inquisitorial duty. I
produced my "pass" without a word of comment. He looked at it and gave
me a queer glance, but I never turned a hair, and while he was looking
at me I calmly withdrew the "pass" from his hands and slipped it into my
pocket.
At this action there was an excited outburst, but I firmly and
resolutely told him that I could not surrender my "pass." I had been
told to keep it at all hazards, and I intended to do so. It was my sole
protection. Not being able to dispute the truth of my assertions, he
merely told me to come with him. I did not like the turn of events but
had to obey. He stopped short before a box, possibly a telephone,
outside which a sentry was standing. He said something to the sentry,
told me to wait outside, and disappeared within the box.
I waited patiently for a few minutes, thinking hard to discover some
ruse to get away, but retaining a perfectly calm and collected
demeanour. If I moved I feared the sentry would raise the alarm. Yet as
I stood there it suddenly occurred to me that perhaps the sentry, with
typical Teuton denseness of thought, might consider that I was a friend
of the officer, and that I was only waiting for him. I glanced anxiously
up and down the street, listened at the box, and fidgeted with papers as
if fearing that I should miss an appointment unless my friend soon
re-appeared.
The sentry appeared to consider my actions quite natural. Emboldened I
withdrew a piece of paper from my pocket and hurriedly scribbled, as if
jotting down a hurried note. But I knew little German and far less how
to write it. After finishing the note I slipped it into the sentry's
hand, telling him to take it to my friend the officer in the box.
He laughed "Ja! Ja!" and I moved off to the tram which was just
starting in the direction I desired. I have often wondered what happened
when the officer came out and discovered that I had vanished! The sentry
must have experienced a rough five minutes, because the officer could
not have been mollified by what I had written, which was simply the two
words "Guten Tag!" (Good-day!).
I dismissed the incident from my mind but the following night I received
a terrible fright. I had promised some friends to accompany them to the
Opera. We boarded a car. As I entered the vehicle I nearly sank through
the floor. There, sitting on the seat, was the officer whom I had left
so abruptly and discourteously the previous day. In a low voice I
related my alarming discovery to my companions, but urged them to
proceed as if nothing had happened, so they maintained a spirited
conversation in German, discreetly monopolising all the talking. The
officer was glaring at me fiercely but I saw that he was in a quandary.
To him my face was familiar but he was cudgelling his brains as to where
he had seen me before. His inability to place me proved my salvation.
When we got up, both my companions and myself wished him "Good-night,"
to which he responded cheerfully. Whatever his thoughts concerning
myself might have been, my "Good-night" completely removed all his
suspicions.
About three weeks after my arrival at Cologne, K---- and I were
surprised to hear familiar voices in the hall of his home. We came out
and to our astonishment there were two fellow-prisoners from Sennelager.
They were R----, a British bank manager, and F----, both of whom at the
time of writing are still languishing in Ruhleben. They had been granted
liberty on a "pass," having mentioned K----'s name. He was delighted
they had accepted his outstanding invitation and gave them a hearty
welcome.
[Illustration:
Bürgermeißter-Aurt Greis
Polizeiliche Aufforderung im Exekutiv-Verfahren.
Auf Grund des § 20 des Geletes über die Polizeiverwaltung vom 11. März
1850 bezw. des § 132 des Geletes über die allgemeine Laubesverwaltung
vom 30. Jüli 1883 werden Sie hiermit aufgefordert
[Transcriber's note: portions illegible, struck through and added in
handwriting]
und zwar bei Vermeidung einer Greturgstrase von----Mart oder einer----
tägten Haftstrase----Geen diese Aufforderung kann immerhalb awet Wochen
nach Aushändigung bersetbeii Beschwerde bei dem KönigtichenBerrn Bonbrat
zu----angebracht werden.
----, den 22 September 1914
Die Polizeiverwaltung. Der Bürgermeißter.]
But before we could settle down, K---- had to accompany the two new
arrivals to the village Burgermeister's office to secure permission for
their residence in his home. K---- and this official were on friendly
terms, but I could not restrain a smile when the official, with a slight
trace of waspishness in his voice, enquired if it was K----'s intention
to establish a British colony in the village? I might mention that
within a stone's throw of K----'s home was a large factory where a
number of Germans were employed, which was managed by three Englishmen.
It was a highly prosperous and flourishing business and, the three
managers living in the village, it certainly did seem as if the little
place were to become colonised.
On the night of November 6th, while we were all making merry after the
evening meal, there came a peremptory knocking at the door. We looked at
one another wonderingly and our hearts fell into our boots as we heard
an ominous tramping of feet in the hall. Two police officers entered the
room and called out our names. We answered affirmatively.
"Gentlemen! You will accompany us to Cologne!" At the pronouncement we
blanched. We knew only too well what the imperative summons conveyed.
_We were under arrest!_