I
Two steamers lie at opposite sides of the dock. One is painted a most
austere and unobtrusive grey; she is obviously a vessel with no
desire to advertise her presence on the high seas. In other words, a
transport. The other is dazzling white, ornamented with a good deal
of green, supplemented by red. She makes an attractive picture in the
early morning sun. Even by night you could not miss her, for she
goes about her business with her entire hull outlined in red lights,
regatta fashion, with a great luminous Red Cross blazing on either
counter. Not even the Commander of a U-boat could mistake her for
anything but what she is--a hospital ship.
First, let us walk round to where the grey ship is discharging her
cargo. The said cargo consists of about a thousand unwounded German
prisoners.
With every desire to be generous to a fallen foe, it is quite
impossible to describe them as a prepossessing lot. Not one man walks
like a soldier; they shamble. Naturally, they are dirty and unshaven.
So are the wounded men on the white ship: but their outstanding
characteristic is an invincible humanity. Beneath the mud and blood
they are men--white men. But this strange throng are grey--like their
ship. With their shifty eyes and curiously shaped heads, they look
like nothing human. They move like overdriven beasts. We realise now
why it is that the German Army has to attack in mass.
They pass down the gangway, and are shepherded into form in the dock
shed by the Embarkation Staff, with exactly the same silent briskness
that characterises the R.A.M.C., over the way. Their guard, with fixed
bayonets, exhibit no more or no less concern over them than over
half-a-dozen Monday morning malefactors paraded for Orderly Room.
Presently they will move off, possibly through the streets of the
town; probably they will pass by folk against whose kith and kin they
have employed every dirty trick possible in warfare. But there will
be no demonstration: there never has been. As a nation we possess a
certain number of faults, on which we like to dwell. But we have one
virtue at least--we possess a certain sense of proportion; and we are
not disposed to make subordinates suffer because we cannot, as yet,
get at the principals.
They make a good haul. Fifteen German regiments are here
represented--possibly more, for some have torn off their
shoulder-straps to avoid identification. Some of the units are thinly
represented; others more generously. One famous Prussian regiment
appears to have thrown its hand in to the extent of about five
hundred.
Still, as they stand there, filthy, forlorn, and dazed, one suddenly
realises the extreme appropriateness of a certain reference in the
Litany to All Prisoners and Captives.