(page 33) from an article by an anonymous American journalist. An early
official report is cited which gives a very different impression, but as
it is quoted in quite a different part (page 18) of the Blue Book, the
contradiction is only seen on careful examination. On the covers of the
two copies of the Blue Book which I have are lists of Foreign Office
publications. Amongst these (see pages 9, 10) is Miscel. No. 11 (1915)
(price 3d.), which contains two official U.S. reports on Döberitz, one
by Mr. Jackson, the other by Mr. Lithgow Osborne, both of them entirely
favourable. No hint of the existence of these reports (received on April
10 and April 24 respectively) is given in the body of the Penny Blue
Book. As regards British camps, the only evidence cited is the report
made by Mr. Chandler Hale of the U.S. Embassy after the riot at Douglas
in November, 1914.
I am fully aware that the sufferings of prisoners of war, as of soldiers
in the field, cannot be adequately presented in official reports, but
the sifting of more human and biased evidence is an extremely difficult
task, and it is sufficiently plain that we should not rely on official
evidence to exculpate ourselves, while using rumours and unofficial
information to condemn the enemy.
There are very many prison camps in Germany, and their individual tone
must depend enormously upon the aims and efforts of the commandant in
charge. A mistake of appointment, almost a slip of the pen, and a man
may be in charge who will make life unendurable as only unlimited
authority can.
The words used by Lord Newton in the House of Lords on July 31, 1917,
are noteworthy in this connection. One impression he derived from his
intercourse with the German delegates at the Hague was that "in spite of
the German power of centralisation, Berlin headquarters did not know a
great deal of what was going on. As the Germans had thirty times as many
prisoners as we had, it would be surprising if they did know what went
on." (_Daily News_, August 1, 1917.)
A PRISONER IN AUSTRIA.
Here is an account of a British member of Parliament, a prisoner in
Austria:
Captain A. Stanley Wilson, M.P., who is a prisoner of war in
Austria, has written the following letter to Colonel Duncombe,
chairman of the Holderness Conservative Association, here:
"I am a prisoner of war, and with only one hope--that the
war will be over soon. I was taken off a Greek steamer by a
submarine on December 6. After two nights and a day on board
I was brought here. I must not give any details. Colonel
Napier was also taken prisoner, and we are together.
Fortunately I have in him a capital companion who can speak
German very well.
I am afraid it will be a very long time before I see my
constituents. I wish them all a happy new year and hope that
during next year I may meet them again. The outlook for me
is not very bright, but I intend to do my best to be
cheerful. Up to the present we have been very well treated.
We had some most exciting experiences in the submarine. The
officers on board treated us as though we were their guests
and not their prisoners. We have as companions two French
officers who were made prisoners the day before us, their
submarine having run ashore."--_Manchester Guardian_,
January 10, 1916.
Captain Wilson (an able-bodied prisoner) has since been unconditionally
released.
THE FOOD QUESTION.
The report already given makes it clear that very similar complaints, or
(as Mr. Jackson puts it [page 16]) complaints that were "exact
counterparts" as to food, have often been made on both sides. It is also
plain that complaints on this score in German camps have been by no
means universal. I do not in the least suppose that the food in general
would be satisfying or other than dreadfully monotonous. ("Oft recht
eintönig," says Professor Stange quite frankly in his interesting
pamphlet on Göttingen camp.) Loss of appetite, depression, indigestion
will then in many cases produce grave physical trouble. All this may
occur and does occur, without anything like a deliberate attempt at
starvation. British born wives of interned Germans would sometimes, even
before the reduction of rations, speak bitterly of their husbands'
needs. An anti-English journalist might have used such complaints to
charge us with starvation. But even perfectly _bona fide_ complaints
need indicate only monotony, loss of robustness, and consequent physical
(and mental) ills--and indeed the tragedy of these things may become
terribly dark. It is, however, something very different from deliberate
starvation.
In any comparison between the two sides it is only fair to take into
account the special difficulties of the German case. The number of
prisoners in Germany by August, 1915, was probably over one million.
This is an enormous figure. While Great Britain and her Allies have
tried to prevent food from reaching Germany, the drain upon the German
food stock has continually grown as the number of prisoners has
increased. By the end of 1917 this famished country had to support
probably more than two million extra persons. The French Press long ago
frankly regarded this as one of the means of helping towards the
starving out of Germany, while in an American cartoon the Russian
prisoners were figured as an enormous beast with its head in a cupboard
labelled "Germany's Food Supply." These are considerations for the
fair-minded, and it is for them to recall that as soon as there was in
our own case a menace of food shortage, there was also what might in
official language be described as a complete revision of the prisoners'
rations. The prisoners' own language would very likely describe it
differently. We can scarcely be surprised at sad and even very bitter
words at times from prisoners' wives.
That prisoners themselves are, however, sometimes able to envisage the
difficulties is indicated by the following extract from a _Daily News_
interview with a corporal repatriated from Münster. He commented on the
fact that some men were the recipients of more parcels than they needed,
while others got none. The interview continues:
You see, without regular parcels from home a man simply starves
at a camp like Münster. If the Germans had the food I believe
they would give it, but they haven't: they are starving
themselves.[3] All they allowed us was bread and water and thin
soup. The consequence is that the men who get no parcels have to
go round begging from the other chaps just to keep body and soul
together.
From what I saw of it, getting so much while others get nothing
isn't good for a man either. Some fellows--the stingy sort--will
save up their parcels against a rainy day. Make a regular little
store they will. Others--the lively sort--sell what they have
over to the unlucky ones, and spend their time gambling with the
few marks they make. Poor devils! You can't blame them!
The word "starvation" has been, and is here, too freely, if very
naturally, used. The remarks of Lord Newton, speaking in the House of
Lords on May 31, 1916, are important in this connection:
If Lord Beresford was accurate in his assumption that prisoners
of war would literally starve to death if parcels did not
arrive, hundreds of thousands of prisoners would be dead
already. Russian prisoners, of whom there were over a million in
Germany, received no parcels at all, and if it was impossible to
exist upon the food supplied by the Germans, these men would
literally have died like flies.... Lord Beresford and other
noble lords had been rather prone to ignore the fact that
Germany was a blockaded country. It was common knowledge that
there was a general scarcity of food throughout Germany, and, if
the prisoners did not get as much as they ought to have, in all
probability the vast majority of the German population was in a
state of comparative hunger.... He could not see what advantage
there was in making out that the case of our prisoners was worse
than it really was, and it seemed to him little short of an act
of cruelty to the relations of these unfortunate men to lead
them to suppose that our men were not only in a state of misery,
but in a state of starvation.--(_Morning Post_, June 1, 1916).
There is no question either that nerve strain and monotony accentuate
the critical attitude towards food. Here is an extract from Mr.
Jackson's report on Senne (September 11, 1915): "There were some
complaints, as usual, in regard to the food. I had arrived in the camp
just after the midday meal was served, and while some of the men said
that the meat had been bad, and they wished that I had an opportunity to
taste it, others said that the meat had been particularly good, because
the officers had heard that I was coming. None of them knew that I had
actually eaten a plate of their soup and had found it excellent, both
palatable and nutritious, and that my visit to this particular camp had
not been announced in advance. The menu for the day had been made out at
the beginning of the week, and could not have been changed after my
presence in the camp was known, and I had a bowl of the soup which was
left over after the prisoners had been served." (Miscel. 19 [1915], page
41.)
It is sometimes forgotten that complaints as to food are frequent in all
institutions, schools, colleges, workhouses, hospitals, etc. I have
before me a recent letter from an Englishman in a consumptive sanatorium
in his own country: "I exist as best I can, and the less said about it
the better. I am no better, and only glad that I am not worse. I at
least don't feel so ill as I did a week ago, although I have lost 3½
lbs. since then. The food is atrocious, and my appetite small. The
fellows here buy quite two-thirds of what they eat, otherwise they too
would lose in weight. No good comes of making complaints ... nothing is
ever done." Things _may_ be so, I am not a great believer in
institutions, but certainly independent investigation is needed to
warrant any conclusion. The same I feel to be the case as to complaints
of feeding, whether in British or German camps.
Each side, too, is also unreasonably certain of its own justice and of
the injustice of the others. Thus the Social Democrat, Herr Stücklen,
speaking in the Reichstag debate of June 6, 1916, said: "I have received
a letter about the treatment of our prisoners in France which says, 'If
pigs were so fed by us they would go on hunger strike.' But I do not
wish our Government to exercise reprisals, which, after all, could only
hit the innocent." [_Cambridge Magazine_, August 26, 1916, Supplement
"Prisoners." An important supplement for those who wish to get a glimpse
(it is no more than a glimpse) of recriminations made by others as to
treatment of prisoners.] It is odd how exactly the same phrases occur on
both sides. Thus a private at Döberitz, according to the unknown
American journalist referred to on pages 5 and 25, relieved his feelings
as to the German food with the words: "I 'ad a sow. And even she
wouldn't eat skilly."
To suit the tastes of all the different nationalities would at any time
be difficult; under war conditions it is impossible. Professor Stange
relates how the hostess of some Russian working prisoners thought to
give them a specially good meal of meat. The result, however, was less
bulky than a soup, and the Russian comment on this occasion was, "Mother
good, eating not good." ("Das Gefangenen-Lager in Göttingen," page 9.)
A PRISONER'S REPORT.
A serious and responsible statement of experiences has been made by
Chaplain Benjamin O'Rorke, M.A., in his little book, "In the Hands of
the Enemy." I commend the book to the notice of those who wish for a
fair statement by a patriot who has actual experience of a good many
German camps in the early days of the war. As he was taken prisoner in
August, 1914, his experiences belong to the time before the improvements
introduced in all countries had been begun. There are callous episodes,
for instance, one of revolting caddishness of an orderly standing by
without offering help when an invalid officer is struggling to tie up
his bootlace. Military bounce, popular vulgarity, hardships,
homesickness, courage--all these things one may read of, but the
incidents which some journalists revel in are to seek. It was a neutral
journalist, we should remember, who sent to a German paper a wonderful
account of the panic fears and regulations of London under the Zeppelin
menace.
Chaplain O'Rorke's reminiscences give us a good many "facts towards
fellowship." Let us select a few. Even the unpleasant ones may help us,
where they show that the failings of the others are the same as our own.
The prisoners were taken to Germany from Landrecies.
THE CREDULITY OF HATE.
At Aachen a hostile demonstration took place at our expense.
There happened to be a German troop train in the station at the
time. A soldier of our escort displayed a specimen of the
British soldier's knife, holding it up with the marline-spike
open, and declared that this was the deadly instrument which
British medical officers had been using to gouge out the eyes of
the wounded Germans who had fallen into their vindictive hands!
From the knife he pointed to the medical officers sitting
placidly in the train, as much as to say. "And these are some of
the culprits." [It is not surprising that thus monstrously
misinformed, and ready to believe all evil against the hated
English, the soldiers] strained like bloodhounds on the leash.
"Out with them!" said their irate colonel, pointing with his
thumb over his shoulder to the carriages in which these
blood-thirsty British officers sat. The colonel, however, did
not wait to see his behest carried out, and a very gentlemanly
German subaltern quietly urged his men to get back to their
train and leave us alone. The only daggers that pierced us were
the eyes of a couple of priests, a few women and boys, who
appeared to be shocked beyond words that even a clergyman was
amongst such wicked men.
I have quoted this passage as I have not the least wish to give a merely
_couleur de rose_ picture of the situation. Human nature is, I fear,
everywhere very much the same, and, once its passions are aroused,
extremely credulous of evil against its opponents. Only one thing in the
account a little surprises me, and that is the colonel's order. If the
officer was a colonel, would a subaltern be able quietly to countermand
his orders? Is there not some mistake of rank here, or perhaps a
misunderstanding of an angry exclamation?
TORGAU.
The populace at Torgau called them swine with variations--all of which,
alas, is exactly what has been done, in some cases, by the populace on
our side too. At Torgau "the Commandant was a Prussian reservist officer
with a long heavy moustache. We were told [by the other prisoners] that
he was courteous and considerate in every respect, and that, provided we
took care, to salute him whenever we passed him, we should find him
everything we could reasonably wish." And later, "It was a subject of
universal regret when the first Commandant resigned his position."
DOGS.
A great deal has been made of the use of dogs in some prison camps. The
following is the account given in Mr. O'Rorke's book (page 41):
As time went on our numbers increased to about 230 British
officers, and 800 French officers joined us from Maubeuge,
including four generals. One of the latter had been interned in
Torgau before, in the 1870 war, and had made good his escape.
The authorities guarded against the recurrence of such an
eventuality on the present occasion, their most elaborate
precaution being the enlistment of dogs to reinforce their
sentries. Their barkings could be heard occasionally by night,
but their presence disturbed neither our repose nor our
equanimity.
It is worth while to quote from a report made by Dr. Ohnesorg and Mr.
Dresel on Wittenberg in March, 1916:
The police dogs are not now a cause of complaint on the part of
the prisoners.--(_Miscel_. 16 [1916] p. 85).
Dr. Austin in "My Experiences as a German Prisoner" writes:
For a long time previous to our arrival at Magdeburg we had been
informed that large and savage dogs were to be provided to aid
the sentries.... They were certainly savage enough, but were
always led by a sentry, or chained in their den, and were never
let loose on us. (p. 141).
To return to Chaplain O'Rorke's narrative: "When we first arrived [the
barrack warder] had adopted the rôle of gaoler in his demeanour towards
us, but after a while he became civil and deferential, and--when his son
was captured in the war--actually sympathetic." (p. 45.) At Torgau "the
meals, though far from sumptuous and not always palatable, were
sufficient for our needs." (p. 43.)
BURG.
At Burg, at the canteen, "we used to treat one another to a whole roll
or a cake and a cup of excellent coffee; and, until they were put on the
_verboten_ list, to a chop or steak. The serving was done under the
direction of a kind, motherly _Frau_ at the one canteen, and by a polite
German boy-waiter at the other.... The regular meals seemed to be
provided by the proprietor of the larger canteen under contract with the
German Government. They were served at 8 a.m., 12 noon and 6-30 p.m. In
quality they were superior to the Torgau fare, but in quantity scarcely
sufficient in the depth of winter for hungry young men. Still it must be
remembered that they cost only 1s. 6d. a day" [out of the daily pay
allowed]. Weekly baths were the regulation, but "it was often possible
for pushing natures to get an extra bath on other days," by a method
which works all the world over. At Burg "the new Commandant was a tall,
well-made, soldierly figure. He had a strong face, curiously resembling
an owl." An amusing little story follows as to the preciseness of the
Commandant and Mr. O'Rorke continues: "It is pleasant to add that this
new Commandant was in one respect just the man that was needed. From the
first day he began to make the place hum, the foul clean, and in time
rendered it habitable. Had there been any, he would have made the dust
fly, but there was not. Indeed the court was at first almost a bog
through which we threaded our way inch deep in mud, and hopped over the
pools. All this disappeared in a few weeks under the Commandant's
direction; the swamp was drained and the path widened." British
officials, too, know that the problem of mud in a confined space trodden
by thousands of feet is one needing energy for its solution.
The Commandant seems to have had a quality more valuable even than
energy--a capacity for learning from those under him. He was a judge by
profession, and was at first stern and terrible, as well as thorough. To
him the prisoners were as ordinary prisoners, "but in time he learnt to
place us in a different category. As for myself, eventually he granted
me facilities for carrying on my work outside the _Lager_, which he
might easily have refused, and when, five months later, we parted, it
was with a certain measure of mutual cordiality" (p. 74). The Adjutant
also learned more cordiality, and adjutants are sometimes prouder of
making others feel their authority than commandants are.
CENSOR FINED BY PRISONER.
The Chaplain instituted a system of fines for "unparliamentary
expressions." "Once I had to fine the German censor. He was engaged on a
hot day in examining a very large number of packages before distributing
them to their owners. He let fall in an unguarded moment the remark that
it was a nuisance to have to open so many parcels--specifying the
particular kind of nuisance he felt it to be ... but unfortunately I
overheard it and he had to pay the penalty. He did so with a good
grace." A touch like this seems to me, personally, to tell more
eloquently than many orations how absurd it is to be regarding one
another as all monsters who ought to be put out of the world.
VISITS OUTSIDE CAMP.
The hospital accommodation at the camp was very poor, and a lieutenant
was sent out to a hospital in the town to have his little finger
amputated. Mr. O'Rorke asked for permission to visit him. The Adjutant
at once agreed. "It was not long before I presented myself at the office
for my escort. I expected a couple of armed soldiers at the least,
remembering our reception at the hands of the populace. Instead, my
escort consisted of Herr Kost--the friendly censor and interpreter--and
a soldier. 'Are you going to run away?' asked Herr Kost. I smiled at the
futility of such an idea. 'Then we won't take a soldier.' My journey of
half an hour to the hospital, my reception there, and my return to the
prison were unmarred by any unpleasant incident whatever. The hospital
was of the latest and best. Lieut. George had nothing but words of
gratitude about the doctors and nurses."
The Chaplain was allowed to visit the "reprisal prisoners," those put in
solitary confinement owing to the infliction of this penalty on the
officers and men of two German submarines. He found them well treated.
"The privacy of this little room," said the Hon. Ivan Hay "is preferable
to the liberty and Babel of the Burg dormitories." The prisoners were
specially selected from families of distinction.
PRISONERS AND POPULACE.
The other Burg prisoners were afterwards removed to Mainz. "The German
Commandant took pity on my loneliness and offered me the privilege of
going into the town where and when I liked if I would give my word of
honour that I would make no attempt to escape. I agreed to the proposal.
We shook hands over it, put it down in writing, and he presented me with
a passport for the period of a week." Mr. O'Rorke, dressed in khaki, was
soon the centre of a crowd of about twenty-five boys and girls. But, and
this is really worth our noting, "they behaved extraordinarily well, and
made no offensive remark." His followers increased, and he made things
worse by giving them sweets! He called upon the German Pastor in order
to get rid of them, but even this failed. A long stop at a café did not
tire the vigilance of his escort. When he again came out, there they
were. "We exchanged smiles and off we started." A bookseller, whose shop
Mr. O'Rorke visited, came to his rescue and dispersed most of the
little crowd, but another one gathered later, though again it showed no
impoliteness or unfriendliness.
MS. RETURNED.
It remains to be said that Mr. O'Rorke's diary was confiscated on his
release, but was restored to him by post a few weeks later, marked as
having passed the German Censor!
ANOTHER PRISONER'S REPORT.