OSNABRUCK
ARRIVAL IN CAMP. THE CANTEEN. DAILY ROUTINE. RATIONS. PARCELS. NEWS
We looked forward to the journey with a great deal of pleasure, not
that I could see where I was going, but the sensation of travelling
was a pleasant change.
We had about half an hour to wait for our train at the station, to the
intense interest of a crowd of 60 or 70 peasants, who gathered around
us and gazed in open-mouthed wonder.
As a matter of fact I was quite unaware that we were the centre of
attraction. I thought we were standing quite alone. It is not a
disadvantage to be blind sometimes.
We had a guard with us of one soldier with a revolver in his belt,
which no doubt was fully loaded, though we did not trouble him to
prove it.
We were placed in a very comfortable second-class carriage, quite
equal to an English first-class carriage. German officers also appear
to travel second class; and on all the journeys I made in Germany, I
was always treated on an equality in this respect.
Half-way through the journey we had to change, and had to wait about
three-quarters of an hour for a connection. We were glad of this, as
we were looking forward to a meal in the station restaurant. But we
were doomed to disappointment. On entering the restaurant there were
plenty of tables and chairs, but to all appearances nothing to eat.
We sat down at a table in company with our escort, and Wishart went
over to the counter to order a hot meal, but could not make himself
understood. After energetically ordering every dish he could think of,
including eggs and bacon, and emphasising his wishes by violent
gesticulations, he returned unhappily to the table and sought the
assistance of the guard, who was made to understand that in England
the object of entering a restaurant is for the purpose of getting
something to eat.
We were finally provided with a cup of coffee, a piece of cheese, and
a slice of very stale and uninteresting bread.
We arrived at Osnabruck station at about 9 P.M., and were placed in a
four-wheel cab, our guards sitting opposite us, with another soldier,
who met us at the station, sitting on the box seat, thus attracting
the attention of the passers-by and conjecture as to the distinguished
occupants of the cab, whose cigars by this time were unfortunately
exhausted.
We had a drive of about four miles, for Osnabruck camp is situated on
the outskirts of the town; and we were greeted on arrival by a request
from the cabby for ten marks.
After having been in daily expectation of a voyage to England, my
arrival at Osnabruck camp gave me a fit of the blues; and I felt like
one who enters a prison to undergo a term of penal servitude.
We knocked at the outer gate, which was securely locked, and were
challenged by a sentry, who was answered by our guard. There was
really no need to challenge us, for as far as Wishart and I were
concerned, we were perfectly willing to remain outside the domain of
his authority.
We heard a clatter of rifles, as the guard was turned out to welcome
our visit, and after an examination of our papers to make sure that we
had the right to enter, we were marched across the courtyard and
stopped before a very large door. More knocking and a noise as of
bolts being drawn back, and we entered the building.
As the door was closed and bolted behind me, I felt like one who was
losing his freedom for ever in the dungeons of a mighty fortress.
We were led into the canteen, and the canteen manager supplied us with
a cup of tea and a slice of bread and margarine--the margarine being a
rare luxury for a prison camp.
We were next taken into an office and searched and our money exchanged
for canteen money. This precaution is always taken, so that if a
prisoner escapes he is not likely to have any negotiable money upon
him.
I thought the soldiers who searched us were very fair, for seeing I
was blind, they allowed Wishart to see exactly the money I had upon
me, so that there could be no dispute. As a matter of fact I handed
out the money myself.
They did not search me, but asked me if I had anything on me which
should be given up, and now I come to think of it, although others
were always rigorously searched, I do not ever remember having been
searched myself. They always took my word for it; perhaps it was
because I was blind and they thought I was harmless.
We were then taken up to a room on the second floor. Doctor Pohlmann
was as good as his word, and a room for three was provided, Rogan
being in possession.
Osnabruck camp is part of a cavalry barracks, and the accommodation,
therefore, is what one would expect in English barracks, and quite
suitable for soldiers.
The rooms are comfortable; there is a small stove with coal provided,
and the furniture consists of camp-beds with two blankets each, a
chest of drawers and a small table and chair. Some of the rooms
contain as many as seven beds, but the rooms are fairly large and do
not appear to be overcrowded.
Doctor Pohlmann told us that the camp boasted, among other
attractions, a billiard-room. Probably he was right, but he must have
forgotten to add that there was no billiard-table or other article of
furniture in it.
A large room was set aside for the British prisoners, and another for
the Russian prisoners; these were furnished at the prisoners' expense
with a piano and card-tables, and used as anterooms. The British
anteroom, however, never seemed popular, as the officers preferred
their own living-rooms, which were warmer.
The French had no anteroom, although I think they could have secured
one had they desired it.
There were about 250 prisoners in the building, about 200 of whom were
Russian and French.
There was a canteen, where almost everything but food could be
obtained. The beer was not bad, and fairly cheap; but the only other
drinks obtainable were a yellow fluid and a reddish fluid, which was
given by the canteen manager the humorous description of sherry and
port wine.
He was a wise man, that canteen manager, for under what strategical
device could he have extracted one mark per glass from his customers,
and at the same time supply a "have another" atmosphere to his
establishment? But he was a good fellow, and added greatly to the
comfort of the officers (and to the comfort of his own banking-account).
You could buy anything from him (except food), from a toothpick (which
he never caused us to need) to a grand piano (which he did not keep in
stock).
He would purchase on commission, and the latter part of the purchase
he gave particular attention to. But he sought custom, and it made him
civil and obliging. He would supply you with a kettle of boiling water
for 5 pfennigs; or, for a larger consideration, would cook the
pheasant which came in your last parcel.
The grounds outside the building were very small, although just before
I left a field was thrown open, where the officers could kick a ball
about. There were also two tennis-courts built by the officers.
The picture does not seem an unpleasant one; and I do not think the
officers imprisoned there ever complain of their treatment. But if it
were a marble palace, that would not alter the fact that it was a
prisoners' camp; and two hours was about as long as anybody would stay
without being bored.
If the description I have given leaves the impression that the
prisoners have a good time in such seclusion, a stroll around the
building a few times, avoiding the barbed wire; or a few nights' sleep
disturbed by the frequent challenge of the sentry and the barking of
the watch-dogs would disillusion them, and make them realise what it
means to feel the strong fetters of captivity.
In England we treat German officers very liberally; and if we ever
allow this to arouse our indignation, we should pause to remember that
this generous treatment has induced the German authorities to grant
favours to British officers.
Our officers, for instance, on signing a parole, are allowed once or
twice each week to go for a long country walk in company with only one
German officer; and this privilege is at any rate worth an equal
amount of consideration being shown towards the German officers in
England.
A medical officer is present each morning, and if it is necessary to
attend hospital, or the dentist, or if you have permission to go down
for any other purpose, you are allowed the privilege of hiring a
conveyance for what the cabby probably flatters himself is a moderate
charge; but if you do not wish to pay for this privilege, you can
walk--in the gutter.
The dentist was not a popular man to visit, although a prisoner is
often tempted to sacrifice a tooth in order to enjoy the privilege of
a ride down-town. But he was apt to use his professional skill as an
instrument to his patriotic ardour, and appeared to aspire to the
removal of the jaw instead of the tooth.
During the time I was at Osnabruck, there was a good commandant in
charge. He was a gentleman, fair-minded, and considerate,
notwithstanding the fact that he was a professional soldier of the old
school.
When I speak of the old school, it leads me to express an opinion that
the brutalities perpetrated upon our soldiers who fell into their
hands in the early part of the war were due to professional military
hatred more than to popular intention. At the commencement of the war,
the professional German soldier seemed to be imbued with the sole
idea, which was no doubt fostered by the system of training, to get to
England, and satisfy his hunger by murder and pillage; and the first
prisoners who saved the people of this country by their heroic
self-sacrifice received the first experience of their intentions.
My contention is borne out by the fact that these brutalities are not
practised to-day in anything like the same degree, for the old army
has become more or less extinct, and a new army of civilians has taken
its place. With the exception, perhaps, of certain elements of the
higher commands, there is a decreasing element of the "top dog"
spirit, and an undercurrent of feeling that it may not be wise to be
too overbearing.
To-day it is the German civilian fighting the British civilian, and
the German who has a home, family, and business has not the same
hatred as his professional predecessor.
The German professional soldier is unapproachable; but the German
civilian soldiers seemed reasonable and anxious for peace, and even to
deplore the domineering authority which compelled him to take up arms.
At Osnabruck the roll-call was made by the officers simply parading
outside of their respective rooms and coming to the salute as the
German officer passed him, and he, in passing by, would answer the
salute. The morning roll-call was at 9 A.M., so at one minute to nine
it was necessary to tumble out of bed.
The curious raiment frequently donned more with a view to speed than
dignity prompted an order being issued that officers should parade
fully dressed. The ingenuity of the British soldier, however, could
soon overcome a requirement of this kind. One minute to nine still
prevailed, but the wearing of overcoats for early morning roll-call
grew in popularity.
I was very much impressed with the fair and systematic handling of our
parcels, letters, and money; and even letters and post-cards which
arrived for me after I had been sent back to England were readdressed
and sent back. A remittance of five pounds, which arrived for me after
I had left was even returned to me in England, instead of being
applied to the pressing need of the German War Loan.
Letters are distributed each morning. Parcels arrive on Mondays and
Thursdays, and a list is made out and sent round the same afternoon,
from which each prisoner can ascertain the number of parcels awaiting
him. He thereupon appears at an appointed hour the following day to
receive his parcels, which are opened by the German censor in his
presence.
All tin food has to be opened, but if it is not required for immediate
consumption, it is placed unopened in a locker, and he can draw what
he requires on any day he wishes to use it.
The American Express Company was permitted to cash officers' cheques
through the paymaster, who kept a proper account of the debits and
credits against each prisoner; so that he could draw money at any time
from the funds standing to his credit. These accounts were kept in a
very businesslike manner, and a prisoner was permitted to go into the
paymaster's office and examine his books whenever he wished. I know of
at least one instance in which a prisoner had been permitted to
overdraw his account.
The prisoners spent most of their time at Osnabruck in playing tennis,
football, walking up and down the yard, learning French or Russian,
playing cards, or reading.
The books which prisoners receive from time to time from England are
passed round, thus forming a sort of circulating library.
In living a life of this kind one cannot help but develop the habits
of school-days, and become boyish in many things.
One lives for letters and parcels. It is not the length of letters or
size of parcels which count so much as the number; and when the parcel
list comes round, he is a lucky fellow who finds four or five parcels
awaiting him, even though their total contents amount to no more than
that of the man who receives a single parcel.
On Tuesdays and Fridays the number of parcels was an absorbing topic,
and one would turn to another in schoolboy fashion, and say:
"How many parcels have you got to-day?"
"Only one--how many have you?"
"Six."
"Lucky devil!"
In each room the men throw their parcels into one mess, and share
alike; and if a new prisoner arrives, who would not be receiving
parcels, he shares with the others in his room.
If several prisoners just arriving are put in a room by themselves,
they do not, of course, fare so well, and until their parcels arrive,
many weeks later, they are more or less dependent upon the food issued
to them; although presents of food are frequently sent in by the
others, and articles of clothing are loaned.
The charge made to the prisoners for food was forty-five marks per
month. We were afterwards informed that by a new regulation the
charge, by some international arrangement, had to be reduced to thirty
marks per month. And the commandant explained that for this sum he
could only supply the same ration which the men received; but would
continue to supply the old ration if the officers would voluntarily
agree to continue paying forty-five marks, and extra for their
bread--which, of course, they did.
This ration consisted of imitation coffee for breakfast and no food. A
plate of washy stuff called soup, for dinner, followed by some sloppy
mashed potatoes, and sometimes green stuff; and for supper, more
sloppy potatoes.
To satisfy one's hunger on a cold day with such food--which is only
fit for pigs--can only be done by loosening the waistcoat, and half an
hour afterwards one feels as though he had never had a meal.
Prisoners were allowed to receive as many letters as they were lucky
enough to have sent them; and there does not appear to be any
restriction as to the length of the letter.
They are allowed to write two letters of four pages each, and four
post-cards each month. All letters are censored by a staff of censors
in the camp. Outgoing letters and post-cards are held for ten days,
with a view of ascertaining, I believe, whether invisible ink had been
used.
News arrives in the camp principally by the arrival of new prisoners,
who are kept in quarantine for about ten days.
German official bulletins are posted in the anteroom; and the
_Continental News_, which is published in the English language, or
rather disgraces the English language by using it, is delivered daily.
By the bye, the _Continental News_ is a rag of the worst kind, and
contains lies of the worst description.
My orderly came to me one day, and after carefully closing the door,
he drew from under his tunic a few scraps of an English newspaper a
month old.
We devoured the news eagerly, as well as the advertisements, and
passed it quietly around to the other officers.
He had been sweeping up the canteen after the censor had finished
opening up the parcels. One parcel had been wrapped up in the
newspaper, and unthinkingly the censor overlooked it, and tore the
paper into fragments and threw it on the floor.
My orderly, while sweeping, noticed the pieces on the floor. The
censor was in the room, and he went on sweeping until, when the
censor's head was turned, he stooped and, snatching it up, stuffed it
into his tunic.