_The World Turned Upsidedown_
I will detain you little with my life on my second German farm, for I
was sent to a different one. One coincidence should be noted, however,
the lady for whom I now worked had a brother in England, captured near
Cambrai in the same battle in which I fell into German hands! This did
not alter her attitude toward me, and my treatment here was worse than
on the first farm.
My sentence of seven days’ arrest was to consist of seven consecutive
Sundays of confinement in my room, in the attic, without food. What
occasion I gave them for a report of good conduct I don’t know, but
the seven days were mercifully reduced to two. Having a liberal supply
of newspapers, tobacco and food concealed in my room and the German
serving girl bravely passing me jugs of hot coffee by means of a string
dropped from the window, I spent these two days quite pleasantly.
It was during my detention that I learned of great success of our
offensive and the probability of an early crash in Germany. From then
on I read the newspapers with feverish interest whenever I could get
them and made short translations on the backs of letters to be passed
to other Englishmen in the village, and to the other villages. I grew
restless and impatient as the rumors of capitulation and revolution
became more insistent. I couldn’t wait to read the papers. I longed to
hear and see more of the great things which were happening in the world
outside of our sleepy village.
At last I contrived to get as far as Parchim on the excuse of going for
a bath. My sentry took me in the morning and brought me back in the
afternoon.
On the train the passengers were talking excitedly, but in subdued
tones lest I should hear. A telegram was passed down the carriage. The
gentleman on my right carefully passed it _around_ me to the gentleman
on my left.
“For God’s sake let me see it, _Kamarad_!” I begged.
“_Nein. Es ist verboten._”[21]
I studied the back of the paper as he held it up to read it and made
out the word “Kaiser!”
“_Bitte!_[22] _Bitte! Kamarad_,” I whispered, “is the Kaiser gone?”
“Not yet, but soon!” he replied.
The Parchim Railway station was heavily guarded by the Badgeless troops
of the _Soldatenrat_.[23] In the camp I found the boys all merry and
bright. The signing of the Armistice was daily expected. Repatriation
by Christmas was conceived possible.
I gathered all the news I could from the English chaps in the baths.
A new regime had come in the camp. All the officers and all the most
notorious of the old bullies had fled, leaving the _Soldatenrat_ in
control.
“They found ‘Mad Alek,’” he announced.
“Found him?” I asked puzzled.
“Yes, he beat it, you know. Disappeared when they heard Bulgaria had
chucked it--took most of the garrison funds with him. They found him
last week in a forest near the Danish frontier. He’d hung himself.”
I returned to my farm, resolved to submit to no more restrictions, if
indeed to work at all. I could not help taunting my sentry and all my
favorite enemies in the village (who had so long jeered at me) over
Germany’s debacle. They had always regarded me as a “Smart Alek” and
now I exasperated them delightfully. My relations with the sentry
reached a climax one evening when he found me reading a newspaper by
candle-light in the barn.
“_Das ist verboten!_” he commanded.
“Who told you that, _mein Lieber_?” I asked, grinning condescendingly.
“Laugh at me will you? You swine!” He roared and before I was aware
he struck me a blow in the chest that sent me reeling. Aghast and
indignant I started back at him. Quick as a flash he had drawn his
bayonet and he struck my arm threateningly with the flat of it.
“Go to bed, you swine!” he ordered.
Confronted by cold steel, there was nothing to do but to obey. I
climbed slowly upstairs to my room, the German close on my heels,
striking me constantly with the bayonet to hurry me. I went to bed with
that wretched and maddening feeling of a man who has received blows
which he cannot repay. I could not sleep. I got up and sat down and
smoked until they unlocked my door in the morning.
[Illustration]
I resolved to go to Parchim the next day and seek redress from the
revolutionaries. I would see if the justice of which they prated was
a reality. I had to wait until dusk, for flight was still _verboten_,
and I must escape unobserved. Setting out in my English uniform with my
buttons brightly polished and carrying my belongings in a neat little
German haversack, I walked all the fifteen kilometers to Parchim,
arriving in the _Komandatur_ at about eight o’clock. I found all young
boys from the new movement in charge, and they listened to my story
with sympathetic indignation. I could not however, see the officer of
justice until the day after tomorrow, and being a runaway, I must spend
the remaining time in the detention barrack.
In this old house of misery I found every evidence of the “New Order.”
The _Hungerstraf_ had been abolished. I was permitted to keep my
cigarettes and tobacco. In the morning the guard asked me for the
address of a friend in the camp, and went out, returning with a cup of
hot tea and a generous meal! He repeated this performance three times a
day.
The new officer of justice was a studious looking young man from the
_Soldatenrat_. The point of my having run away he magnanimously waived,
and he carefully took down my charges against the sentry in a big book.
He promised me complete satisfaction.
“But when is this trial going to come off?” I asked, anxious to see
it through myself. “I want to be there and testify against him to his
face.”
“I am sorry,” he apologized, “but this matter must be referred to
the _Soldatenrat_. Your assailant will be arrested and the matter
thoroughly investigated, but it will take time. See me in a fortnight
and I will give you a good report of what has been done.”
“I hope to be in England in a fortnight,” I said resignedly, “so I must
trust you to see justice done.”
FOOTNOTES:
[21] It is forbidden.
[22] Please.
[23] Council of soldiers.