ORGANISING THE COMMUNAL CITY OF RUHLEBEN
When I reached the internment camp it was in a wildly chaotic condition.
Every semblance of management was conspicuous by its absence, while the
German authorities never lifted a finger or uttered a single word
towards straightening things out. Some of the enlightened spirits among
us maintained that the Germans would not assist us, but it is my firm
impression that they could not: it was a problem beyond their
capacities. Such a state of affairs seems remarkable when one recalls
how persistently the Teuton flaunts his vaunted skill in organisation,
scientific management and method before the world at large. As a matter
of fact it is only when one secures a position behind the scenes in
Germany, to come into close contact with the Hun as he really is, when
he has been stripped of the mask and veneer which he assumes for parade
and to impress his visitors, that the hollowness of the Teuton
pretensions is laid bare in all its ghastly nakedness.
The result in Ruhleben camp was terrible. It was every man for himself
and the Devil take the hindmost. If one, in desperation, approached the
authorities for a word of suggestion to improve this or that,
officialdom merely shrugged its shoulders and candidly admitted
impotence to recommend a remedy. So we had to depend essentially upon
our own exertions and initiative.
Each barrack elected a captain, whose position was somewhat analogous to
that of the Governor of a State, while over the camp as a whole reigned
a super-captain. Seeing that there were several thousand prisoners at
the time of my arrival on November 12, 1914, accommodated in twelve
barracks, which presented a ghastly exhibition of congestion, and that
neither law nor order, except as interpreted and maintained by the rifle
and the bayonet of the unscrupulous German sentries, prevailed, the
necessity to turn the colony inside out and to inaugurate some form of
systematic control and operation was only too obvious.
In the early days we were entirely dependent upon the authorities for
our food supplies, and they were invariably inadequate, while still more
often the victuals were disgustingly deficient in appetising qualities.
There were no facilities whatever for supplementing the official rations
by purchases from a canteen such as we had enjoyed for a time at
Sennelager. At last a German _frau_, animated by desire to improve the
shining hour at the expense of the interned civilians, opened a small
booth where some extras such as we so urgently desired could be
procured. This booth, about as large as the bathing machine common to
our seaside resorts, was situate in the centre of the camp. The
diminutive dimensions of the "shop" prevented the woman carrying
extensive stocks, and, as a rule she was cleared right out before
mid-day. Her specialities were sweets, fruit, canned foods, herrings,
and such like, but in extremely limited quantities.
This shop became known throughout the colony as the "Pond-side" stores,
and the nickname was apt. Why, constitutes a little story in itself. It
virtually occupied the centre of the main thoroughfare, and certainly
became the busiest corner in the community. But at this point the land
made a sudden dip. Consequently, when we were visited by rainstorms, and
it _does_ rain in Germany, rendering a British torrential downpour a
Scotch mist by comparison, the rain water, unable to escape, gathered in
this depression, forming a respectable pond, with the booth or stores
standing, a dejected island, in the middle.
If the storm were unduly heavy this pond assumed imposing dimensions.
One day I decided to measure it, so arming myself with a foot-rule I
waded deliberately through its length and width with my crude measuring
device to find that it was 133½ feet long by 25 feet wide, and ranged
from 6 inches to 2½ feet in depth. While engaged in this occupation I
was surprised by an officer, who, catching sight of my rule, sharply
demanded what I was doing? I told him frankly, and there was a lively
breeze between us.
[*large gap]
Naturally one will ask how it was that such a pond could form in the
heart of the camp. To the British mind, saturated as it is with blind
faith in German superior abilities in every ramification of human
endeavour, it may seem incomprehensible, and the formation of the lake
may be charitably attributed to the rain-water drainage system becoming
choked, thus effectively preventing the escape of the water. But there
was no drain to cope with this water, and what is more to the point the
nuisance was never overcome until the British prisoners themselves took
the matter in hand.
When the water was lying in this depression a trip to the Stores became
an adventure. To obviate the necessity of wading through the noisome
water we secured a plank gangway upon boxes and barrels. The pathway
thus formed was only a few inches in width and precarious. The gangway
ran out from one bank to the stores, thence on to the opposite bank, so
that it was possible for the men to pass to the shop and to dry land in
single file. If one were at the extreme end of the queue one might
confidently expect to wait from two to three hours before reaching the
shop, only then to be disappointed because it had been cleared out of
everything edible.
When the water was up, the German _frau_, acting as shopkeeper, would
perch herself on a box or barrel with the murky fluid swishing and
snarling around her, because her stores always suffered inundation at
such times. Walking the plank to make a purchase was highly exciting and
mildly diverting. No little effort was required to maintain one's
balance, while time after time the crazy foundations, as represented by
the boxes and barrels, would give way, precipitating a long string of
patient customers into the dirty water.
The inadequacy of these stores was felt very severely. At last, after a
short and determined deliberation, it was resolved to run the colony
upon communal lines. This was the only feasible form of control in order
to protect the prisoners against scandalous robbery, extortionate
prices, and to ensure a sufficiency of the essentials which were in such
urgent demand. A simple, although comprehensive form of civic government
was drawn up, involving the formation of educational facilities, a
police force, a fire brigade, the establishment and maintenance of shops
and canteens, all of which were operated by the community for the
benefit of the community, the receipts being pooled in the camp
treasury.
Such a system was absolutely imperative. Some of the prisoners were
without money and were denied the receipt of contributions from home,
their relatives and friends doubtless being too poor to help them.
Naturally these luckless prisoners were speedily reduced to extremely
straitened circumstances and distress among them became very acute.
Furthermore parcels of clothing and other articles were being sent in
bulk, addressed merely to the camp as a whole, instead of to
individuals, the objects of the senders being the fair and equitable
distribution of the articles among the prisoners indiscriminately. The
handling of these supplies led to frequent and unblushing abuses, the
men who were not in need of such contributions receiving them at the
expense of those who sorely wanted them.
After our civic government had been reduced to practical application and
was working smoothly, the task of distributing these unaddressed bulk
supplies was entrusted to the captains of the barracks. The captain was
selected for this responsibility because he knew all the deserving cases
in his own party and was able to see they received the alleviation of
their distress. When a crate of goods came in the captain compiled a
list setting out the names and precise needs of every man in his party.
If you were in a position to do so you were expected to pay a small sum
for the articles, the price thereof being fixed, although you were at
liberty to pay more if you felt disposed. This money was paid into the
camp treasury. But if you were "broke," no money was expected.
Consequently every man was certain to secure something of what he
needed, irrespective of his financial circumstances.
The camp government also embarked upon trading operations. Shops were
erected, one or two at a time, until at last we had a row of emporiums.
The requisite material was bought from the Germans or from home with
money drawn from the camp treasury. It must not be forgotten that the
Teuton authorities resolutely refused to supply us with a single thing,
declined to participate in any improvements, and refused to contribute a
penny to defray the cost of any enterprise which was considered
imperative to ameliorate our conditions. Indeed they robbed us right and
left, as I will narrate later. By building shops in this manner we were
able to boast a Bond Street, from which in a short time radiated other
thoroughfares which were similarly christened after the fashionable
streets of London--we had a strange penchant for the West-End when it
came to naming our streets. The result is that to-day Ruhleben can point
to its Fleet Street, its Trafalgar Square, and so on.
Goods were purchased for the various departments according to the
specialities of the shops--boots for the bootshop, clothes for the
clothiers and groceries for the provision stores. The communal
government selected competent men to take charge of these establishments
at a weekly salary of five shillings. Every shop in the camp, with the
exception of a very few, such as mine in which I specialised in
engraving, the ticket-writers and so forth, belonged to the community
and were run by the community for the benefit of the community. No
prisoner was permitted to launch out upon his own account as a
shopkeeper if he intended to deal in a necessity. Only those trades
which involved no stock or might be described as luxuries were permitted
to be under individual management for individual profit.
As the inter-trading in the camp developed we were able to purchase
large stocks of essentials, and it was astonishing to observe the
prosperity with which our trading endeavours flourished. Great Britain
has always been contemptuously described by our commercial rivals as a
nation of shop-keepers, and in Ruhleben Camp we offered our German
authorities, right under their very noses, the most powerful
illustration of this national characteristic, and brought home to them
very conclusively the fact that our national trait is no empty claim.
Thousands of pounds sterling were passed over the counters every week.
While the shops dealt only in what might be termed necessities for our
welfare, we were able to procure almost any article we desired. A
"Special Order Department" was created to which we took our orders for
special articles not stocked in the camp. If the order, upon scrutiny by
the authorities, was deemed to be reasonable and did not infringe the
prohibited list, the arrival of the goods in due course was certain.
The value of this system of managing the colony may be illustrated from
one example, typical of many, which reflects credit upon the captains
and civic organising committee. Butter was a luxury and could not be
purchased in the camp for less than 3s. 2d. per pound. Yet this figure
was decidedly below that ruling in the shops of Berlin for this article
of food. Under these circumstances one might wonder how we were able to
sell butter at a cheaper figure than the native tradesmen, and readers
might be disposed to entertain the opinion that here, at all events, we
did receive a valuable concession from the German authorities. But it
was no such thing. The camp treasury secured a quotation for butter and
at once realised that the terms were far too high for the prisoners as a
whole. Consequently they decided to place this and margarine upon sale
at attractive and possible prices. The purchasing department was
allotted a certain figure for purchasing, but as this was insufficient
the difference in the prime cost was taken from the common fund. Hence
we never paid more than 3s. 2d. per pound retail in the camp, although
the price was soaring in Berlin, so long as the article was obtainable.
This division of the cost between the communal shop and the common fund
brought butter within the reach of those who otherwise would have had to
be content with dry bread, because very few of us could have afforded
the luxury had Berlin prices prevailed in Ruhleben. Incidentally the
price of butter serves to convey a tangible idea of the economic
conditions reached in Germany and that within nine months of the
outbreak of hostilities!
When the prisoners discovered that they could obtain the majority of
things which serve to make life bearable even under depressing and
oppressive conditions they commenced to launch out in the acquisition of
things for improving creature comfort. With the money drawn from the
banks and other institutions they purchased beds, cupboards, utensils,
electric reading lamps, clothes, and what not to render their living
quarters attractive and to improve their personal appearance and
conditions. This extra work threw a heavy strain upon the clerical
department which, within a short time, demanded organisation. The
position of auditor was assumed by J----, who gathered a competent
staff, and they worked like Trojans on behalf of the camp. Many times,
while on night patrol as a policeman, I found J---- and his assistants
burning the midnight oil at 1 a.m., straightening out the accounts and
posting the books of the treasury. He and his staff deserve the greatest
credit for the high-spirited manner in which and the hours they worked
on behalf of their fellow-prisoners.
The shop-keeping industry received a decided impetus when the British
Emergency Relief Fund was inaugurated. Under this scheme, five shillings
per week were paid regularly through the American Embassy to all
prisoners who were in need of financial assistance.
[*large gap]
Notwithstanding the elaborate precautions which had been brought into
operation to ensure that this relief should get only into deserving
hands, the fact remains that up to the day of my departure it was being
paid directly into the pockets of some of our enemies. The scheme had
been brought into operation some little while, when one morning, upon
parade, the authorities requested all those who sympathised with the
German cause to step out. Many, doubtless thinking that here was the
opportunity to secure preferential treatment or the golden chance to
obtain release from the Prison Camp of Abandoned Hope, answered the
call. The numbers were appreciable, but as they advanced from the lines
they were assailed by vicious hooting, groaning and hissing from the
others who were resolved to maintain their patriotism at all hazards.
Still it was an excellent move upon the part of the Germans. It
eliminated dangerous enemies from our midst.
But if the pro-Germans, now chuckling merrily and rubbing their hands
with childish delight, considered their release to be imminent they
received a very rude awakening. The German authorities are not readily
gulled. To them a pro-German is every whit as dangerous as an avowed
enemy. They merely marched these traitors to another part of the camp
where they were forced to re-establish themselves in their own isolated
barrack quarters. They received no improvement in treatment or food. The
only difference between the two divisions of what is now described as
the "split camp" is that whereas the true Britishers are free to sing
"Rule, Britannia," "God Save the King," and other patriotic songs, the
traitors have to while away their time singing "Die Wacht am Rhein,"
"Deutschland Uber Alles," and other German jingo melodies.
The position of the traitors became aggravated a little later, when they
learned that the German authorities were quite ready to release them
upon one simple condition--that they joined the German Army! I am
ashamed to say that some of them even took advantage of this infamous
avenue of escape. But the majority, after their dropped jaws and long
faces resumed their normal positions, thought they might just as well
change their national coat once more.
Some of these scoundrels, after openly enlisting under the German
banner, did not disavow their pension but coolly continued to draw the
five shillings per week. Moreover, in one instance at least, one of
these scapegoats after declaring his pro-German proclivities was enabled
to return to England as an exchanged prisoner. I could reveal
unpalatable truths concerning the laxity of our authorities in dealing
with the exchange of prisoners, but the moment is not opportune.
One day one of these renegades came to my booth to have some engraving
carried out. He asked me a price and I quoted half a crown. To my
surprise he urged me to make it five shillings. Somewhat astonished I
suggested that the work was not worth five shillings and that my
estimate was perfectly fair.
"Oh, it doesn't matter," he replied, laughing gaily. "I draw five
shillings from the British Prisoners' Relief Fund, which I never spend
because I don't want it, and one week's draw might just as well pay for
this job!"
I was so exasperated by this cool confession from the "P.-G."--our
colloquialism for a pro-German--that I whipped round my bench and
confronted the amiable traitor. We commenced to argue, I told him what I
thought about him, words grew hot and soon the fur commenced to fly. He
landed out at me and then I pitched into him unmercifully. It was
useless for him to appeal for help. We knew every "P.-G." among us and
he was now fairly in the hands of the Philistines. My colleagues merely
gathered round, jeering and cheering like mad as I got some stinging
blows home. The renegade subsequently slunk off rather badly battered,
only to act quite up to his traitorous principles. After being thrashed
in fair fight he crawled off to one of the German officers to whom he
explained in a wheedling, piteous voice that he had been assaulted and
went in fear of his life.
The officer came over to me and accused me of fighting. I explained the
whole circumstances, emphasising the fact that the sneaking, drivelling
humbug was drawing five shillings from the British Pension Fund and yet
was parading and voicing his anti-British sentiments far and wide, when
there were many admitted and honourable British prisoners walking about
and in greater need of the money. The officer was evidently impressed
with my point of view and undoubtedly concurred in my contention that my
attitude was perfectly justified.
At all events he unostentatiously and unconsciously betrayed his opinion
of a pro-German. He never uttered a word of reprimand to me; the
discomfited "P.-G." was advised to make himself scarce; and although I
had been guilty of the grave offence of fighting I never heard another
word about the incident. It is evident that the officer in his own mind
concluded that the less he said about the episode the better. Still I
had got satisfaction. I had given one of our enemies a drubbing which he
would not forget in a hurry.
Yet the one fact remains. At the time I left the camp there were several
of these whimpering, cold-footed, British Judas Iscariots still drawing
unblushingly their five shillings per week! I might add that this
constituted one of the greatest scandals of the camp, and precipitated a
feeling of smouldering rebellion, not against the German authorities,
but against the traitors who did not refrain from attempting to
fraternise with us after the diabolical repudiation of their
nationality. It was fortunate these back-boneless, long-faced and
drooping-mouthed Britons were forced to live away from us; otherwise I
am afraid there would have been some tragedies and endless fighting.
Another rule of the camp somewhat grated upon our nerves. We opened
several canteens which we stocked with our own goods, and operated upon
communal lines so that the prisoners might secure ample food-stuffs.
Naturally these articles were sold to the men at the lowest possible
prices. But to our dismay we learned afterwards that they might have
been sold at a lower figure had the German military not demanded a
commission, or perhaps it should be called a "royalty" upon the turnover
of 7½ per cent.! This applied equally to the "Special Order Department,"
and I am afraid, if the subject were probed to the bottom, it would be
found that every article sold in Ruhleben--fully ninety per cent. of
which probably would be construed as articles saleable from the canteen
if shops were unavailable--contributes its toll of seven-and-a-half per
cent. to the German authorities. When one recalls the thousands sterling
which pass through the shops and canteens during the course of the week,
the German officials must have derived a handsome revenue from this
iniquitous practice. If all the camps were mulcted in the manner of
Ruhleben, looking after the British prisoners must be an extremely
lucrative occupation.
This scandalous impost hit us at every turn. It meant that we had to pay
for every article and through the nose at that. For instance, the Camp
Committee laid down a house equipped with four large boilers to supply
boiling water, which we had to fetch, and with which we were able to
brew beverages and soups in the secrecy of our barracks. We purchased
this convenience, of which the Germans took a proportion, so that we
really paid a prohibitive price for the water which we consumed! _The
supply of hot water, no matter for what purpose, was construed by the
Germans as coming within the business of the canteen!_ Shower baths were
also introduced, the cost being defrayed out of the camp treasury. I
wonder if the British authorities follow a similar practice among the
German internment camps in this country? It is an excellent method of
making the prisoner pay for his own board and lodging.
The educational classes proved a complete success. Almost every language
under the sun could be heard among the prisoners. The classes were
absolutely free, of course, although you could contribute something, if
you desired. Individual tuition was given, but in this instance the
tutors were free to levy fees. The mastery of languages became one of
the most popular occupations to pass the time. I myself had a class of
dusky members of the British Empire, drawn from various Colonies, and
speaking as many dialects, to whom I undertook to teach English,
reading, writing, drawing, and other subjects. At the time the class was
formed, they could only muster a few English words, conducting
conversation for the most part by signs and indifferent German. But my
pupils proved apt and industrious, and by the time I left they had
mastered our tongue very effectively, as the many letters they sent me,
before leaving Ruhleben, striving to thank me for what I had done,
testify.
Camp life was not without its humour. Around the boiler-house stretched
a large wooden hoarding which served as a notice-board. Every day there
were posted the names of prisoners, set out in alphabetical order, for
whom parcels had arrived. The remaining space was covered with
advertisements of a widely varied order. The humour unconsciously
displayed upon that board probably has never been equalled in the pages
of a humorous journal yet printed. It is impossible to narrate every
quaint announcement as they were so prolific, but I have never
forgotten some of them. One I recall was an advertisement of a tutor
setting forth his terms for teaching English. But only one word in the
announcement was spelled correctly! Another, posted by a sailor, ran,
"_Talking Parrot for Sale._ Guaranteed _not_ to swear!" It remained up
for three days and apparently there was nothing doing. Such an article
was evidently a drug upon the Ruhleben market. After the bird prisoner
had been in the camp a while the advertisement re-appeared, but the word
"not" was blotted out! The advertisement disappeared almost instantly,
which led one to surmise that someone had purchased Polly to repeat
Ruhleben conversation at a later date, beside the fireside of an
Englishman's home, as a reminder of the times and the vernacular of a
German prison camp.
The various reports which have been published in the German and British
newspapers from time to time, relative to life at Ruhleben, have dwelt
at length upon the social amenities of that imposing colony. People at
home have read about the tennis courts, our football field, the theatre,
and other forms of recreation. Possibly they think that the Germans have
been very generous and sympathetic in this direction at least. But have
they? For the use of a section of the cinder track to serve as tennis
courts the German authorities demanded and received £50! We paid them
another £50 for the football field, while for the use of the hall under
the Grand Stand which had never been used since the outbreak of war, and
which we converted into a theatre, we were forced to hand over a third
£50. The camp treasury met these demands, and probably an examination of
the books would reveal many other disbursements of a similar character
for other facilities. The Germans have never spent a penny on our
behalf, and have never given us anything.
When the camp is broken up and the prisoners are released, there will be
a pretty problem for some person to unravel. By now Ruhleben has the
appearance of a healthy and thriving little town. The prisoners have
toiled unceasingly to improve their surroundings. When we entered into
occupation of our horse-box, its solitary appointment was the manger. We
needed a shelf, and had to pay heavily for the wood. As time went on our
ingenuity found expression in many other ways. We made tables, chairs,
wardrobes, sideboards, and other furniture. In some instances these
embellishments were purchased from German firms. The result is that
to-day some of the quarters are as attractive and as comfortable as a
flat. When the camp is broken up these articles will have to be left
behind. Although under the hammer prices will and must rule low, in the
aggregate many thousands of pounds will be realised. What is to be done
with this money? Who is to have it? Scores of buildings have been
erected with money drawn from the common fund. Is any compensation going
to be paid by the German authorities for the fruits of our labour and
ingenuity which will fall into their hands? We have paid for all the
materials used out of our own pockets, and the work carried out upon
these lines already represents an expenditure of tens of thousands
sterling. Are the prisoners to lose all that?
The community is run upon the most rigid business-like lines. Nothing is
given away at Ruhleben. This explains how we have built up such a
wealthy camp treasury. The Camp Authorities govern the concerts,
theatrical and vaudeville entertainments, troupes, band, newspapers,
programmes--in short everything. Individual enterprise has but a
negligible scope in Ruhleben. The initial outlays have admittedly been
heavy, but the receipts have been still larger, so that there must be a
big balance somewhere. It has not all been spent, and the question
arises as to what will be done with the accumulated funds.
To convey some idea of the possible and profitable sources of income it
is only necessary to explain the system of handling the prisoners'
parcels. These are sorted in a large building. I learned that a parcel
was waiting for me by perusing the notice-board. I presented myself at
the office window to receive a ticket which I exchanged for the parcel,
the ticket serving as a receipt for due delivery. But the ticket cost me
one penny! Seeing that the average number of parcels cleared every day
is 3,000, it will be seen that the sale of the necessary tickets alone
yields roughly £12 per day or over £4,000 a year. Recently the price of
the ticket has been reduced fifty per cent., but even at one halfpenny
the annual income exceeds £2,000. This one branch of business must show
a handsome profit, and there are scores of other prosperous
money-yielding propositions in practice in the camp.
No matter how spendthrift the treasury may be the accumulated funds must
now represent an imposing figure, because, with only one or two
exceptions, everything is run at a profit. Will the camp treasury carry
the precepts of communal trading to the logical conclusion? Will it
distribute the accumulated funds among the prisoners, pro rata according
to the term of imprisonment, at the end of the war? If that is done it
will serve as some compensation for the break-up of homes in Britain and
other countries which has taken place, because those who were left
behind were deprived--through no fault of aught but the German
authorities and their ridiculous regulations--of their wage-earners.
As the result of frequent representations the German authorities
permitted us to inaugurate our civil police force for the maintenance of
law and order throughout the camp. After this force came into being and
had proved satisfactory, the military guards were withdrawn, and we were
encircled only by the cordon of sentries outside. We suffered no
military interference whatever. The force, of which I became a member,
numbered forty all told. Our badge of office was an armlet--blue and
white bands similar to that worn by the British constabulary, and
carried upon the left wrist over our private clothes--together with a
button inscribed "Police. Ruhleben Camp." The selection of the police
force was carried out upon extremely rigorous lines to ensure that only
the most capable men were secured for this exacting duty. We patrolled
the camp night and day, the duty under the former conditions being two
hours, at the conclusion of which we reported ourselves to the police
station, and then proceeded to our barracks to rest, waking up our
successor on the way, who thereupon went on duty.
All things considered the camp was extremely well-behaved, the British
naturally being amenable to discipline. One or two thefts occurred, the
offenders, when caught, being handed over to the German authorities to
receive punishment. At times there were manifestations of rowdiness, but
they were speedily and readily quelled. The police required to be
unconscionably patient, tactful, and sympathetic, because we were all
chafing under restraint, and our nerves were strained, while tempers
were hasty. Indeed, the German authorities marvelled at the manner and
the ease with which we kept the camp upon its best behaviour, and I
think we taught them many valuable lessons concerning the enforcement of
law and order without the parade of any force or badgering, judging from
the assiduity with which they studied our methods. Even the
"drunks"--and they were not strangers to Ruhleben, despite the fact that
alcoholic liquor was religiously taboo, the liquor being smuggled in and
paid heavily for, a bottle of Red Seal costing fifteen shillings--never
gave us the slightest cause for anxiety.
One day there was a serious explosion of discontent. We had been served
at our mid-day meal with a basin of evil-looking skilly. We took it
back, and protested that we ought not to be served with prison fare.
"Skilly?" repeated the cook. "That isn't skilly. It's Quaker Oats."
"'Strewth!" yapped a sailor, "That's the bloomin' funniest Quaker Oats
I've tasted. Quaker Oats will keep you alive, but that bloomin' muck 'd
poison a rat!" saying which he disdainfully emptied the noisome contents
of his basin upon the ground.
We were told we should get nothing else, which infuriated us. We
gathered round the cook-house, and the discontented, grumbling sailors
and fishermen, unable to make any impression by word of mouth, commenced
to bombard the kitchen with bricks, stones, and clods of earth. The
fusillade grew furious, and the cat-calls vociferous.
The turmoil had been raging for some time when a mounted officer dashed
up. Securing silence he ordered us all into barracks. There was an
ominous growl. Then he told us he had brought a battalion of soldiers
and a machine gun section from Spandau, and if we did not disperse in
five minutes he would fire on us.
We looked round, thinking he was bluffing, but there, sure enough, were
the soldiers with their rifles ready, and we discovered afterwards that
the machine guns had been brought up to the gates ready for use at a
moment's notice. We shuffled for a few minutes, frowning, glowering,
mumbling, cursing and swearing, but as the Germans always mean what they
say, we sullenly moved off as ordered. Still the protest bore fruit; no
further attempts were made to serve us with that fare.
The highways of the camp were in a deplorable condition. They were
merely tracks trodden down by our feet and carts, heavily rutted,
uneven, and either a slough of mud and water, or a desert of dust,
according to the weather. We persistently urged the German authorities
to improve these roads, but they turned a deaf ear to all our
entreaties.
At last the Camp Authorities decided to carry out the work themselves.
There was a call for labourers, who were promised a steady wage of five
shillings per week. Although enrolled in the first instance to build
roads, this force was afterwards kept on as a working gang to carry out
any jobs which became necessary. These men laid out and built an
excellent road system, following the well-accepted British lines with a
high camber and a hard surface so that the water could run into the
gutters.
These roads aroused intense interest among our captors. They used to
come in and follow the men at work, studying the method of building up
the fabric, and upon its completion they inspected and subjected it to
tests. A little later they coolly sent in a request to the road-builders
to go outside to continue urgent work of a similar character. However,
investigation revealed the disconcerting fact that these men were
required to take the places of those Germans generally associated with
this task, who had been called up for service at the front. Needless to
say the suggestion met with a unanimous and determined refusal.
As time went on our conditions became worse. Bread became unobtainable
at almost any price. Pathetic advertisements commenced to steal upon the
notice-board, some of which I vividly remember. One in particular
revealed a poignant story of silent suffering. It ran "Good Swan
Fountain Pen. Will exchange for loaf of bread." Yet it was only typical
of scores of others couched in a similar vein. All sorts of things were
offered in exchange for food. Our treasury redoubled its efforts, but
food could not be got even at famine prices. This was early in March,
1915, so that the country was speedily being compelled to concede the
strangling force of the British blockade.
One morning we were paraded, and every man was ordered to produce any
bread he might have in his possession. Some of us had been storing the
official rations against the rainy day which we felt must come sooner or
later. This had to be surrendered. The guards also carried out a
thorough search to assure themselves that none had been left behind or
concealed under beds. When the bread had been collected the authorities
calmly cut it up and served us with a small piece each--that is they
gave us back a portion of what was already our property, and which we
had not eaten merely because we had been making ourselves content with
purchases from the canteens.
This proceeding brought home to us the vivid prospect of being reduced
to a perilous position within a very short time. So in our letters home
we emphasised the need to send us bread and other food-stuffs. As about
three weeks elapsed before we received a loaf after it had been
dispatched, we kept it another week, then soaked it in water and took it
to the cook-house to be re-baked, for which we were charged one penny.
Some of the unfortunate members of the party had no bread come from
home. But with true camaraderie those prisoners who were in the land of
plenty invariably divided their prizes, so that one and all were reduced
to a common level. In this way considerable misery and discontent were
averted. Of course, when stocks ran out, we had to revert to the
official rations. Here and there would be found a few hard-hearted and
unsympathetic gluttons. They would never share a single thing with a
comrade. A prisoner of this type would sit down to a gorgeous feast upon
dainties sent from home, heedless of the envious and wistful glances of
his colleagues who were sitting around him at the table with nothing
beyond the black bread and the acorn coffee. He would never even proffer
a spoonful of jam which would have enabled the revolting black bread to
be swallowed with greater relish.
There is one prisoner of this type whom I particularly recall. He had
plenty of money in his pockets, and was the lucky recipient of many
bulky hampers at regular intervals. Yet he never shared a crust with a
less fortunate chum. But this individual did not refuse the opportunity
to trade upon the hospitality of a fellow-prisoner when he himself was
in a tight place. He became the most detested man in the camp, and to
this day, with the rest of his selfish ilk, he suffers a rigid boycott,
and at the same time is the target of every practical joke which his
colleagues can devise. To quote the vernacular, we had "_Some_ jokes
with him," and often stung him to fury, when we would laugh mercilessly
at his discomfiture.
At the time I left the camp the outlook had assumed a very black aspect,
and now we hear things have reached a climax. Money is worse than
useless now because it can purchase nothing. The prisoners are reduced
to subsist upon what meagre rations the authorities choose to dole out
to them, and essentially upon what they receive from home. Starvation
confronts our compatriots suffering durance vile in Ruhleben. The dawn
of each succeeding day is coming to be dreaded with a fear which baffles
description because it is unfathomable.