CAUGHT!
At first it seemed as if there were a platoon of soldiers: they were
everywhere I looked, and there were more coming! They were, for the
most part, young fellows from the training camp at Aschaffenburg,
and it was not every day they got a chance to catch a couple of
prisoners. So it was done with a flourish!
The Captain instructed us to put up our hands, and two of the
soldiers searched us. They were welcome to my map, because already I
was thinking of making another, but I did not like to see my compass
go--I kept wondering how I would ever get another.
There was no hostility in their attitude toward us, either from the
soldiers or the civilians. The potato-diggers, mostly women, went
straight back to their work as if they had done their share and
now some one else could "carry on." Prisoners or no prisoners, the
potatoes had to be dug.
A few children gathered around us, but they kept back at a respectful
distance and made no remarks. Where the military are concerned, the
civilian population do not interfere, even by words or looks.
The village women who gathered around us had most apathetic,
indifferent, sodden faces; I don't believe they knew what it was all
about. They were no more interested in what was going on than the
black-and-white Holstein cows that grazed in the meadow near by.
[Illustration: Map made by Private Simmons of the First Attempt]
I spoke of this afterwards to Bromley.
"But you must remember," he said, "they knew enough to go and tell on
us. That wasn't so slow."
We could see that the soldiers were greatly pleased with their catch,
by the way they talked and gesticulated. Every one was pleased but
us! Then the commander, addressing his men in what we took to be a
congratulatory speech, called for volunteers. We knew the word.
I looked at Bromley, and saw the same thought in his face, but his
sense of humor never failed him.
"Cheer up, Sim!" he said. "They are just calling for volunteers to
shoot us. The boys must have something to practise on."
We laughed about it afterwards, but I must say I did not see much
fun in it that minute. But it was only volunteers to take us into
Aschaffenburg. The commander wished to spread the joy and gladness as
far as it would go, and I think it was fully a dozen who escorted us
to Aschaffenburg, about a mile and a half away.
They marched us through the principal streets, where I saw the sign
"Kleiderfabrik" many times. The people stopped to look at us, but I
saw no evidence of hostility. I am not sure that the majority of the
people knew who we were, though of course they knew we were
foreigners.
There was one person, however, who recognized us, for as we were
marching past one of the street-corners, where a group had gathered,
a voice spoke out in excellent English, "Canadians, by Jove! And two
fine big chaps, too!"
The voice was friendly, but when I turned to look I could not see who
had spoken.
Their pride in showing us off was "all right for them," but pretty
hard on us, for it was a long time since we had slept, and we did not
enjoy being paraded through the city just for fun. We knew we were in
for it, and wanted to know just what they were going to do with us.
At last they drew up with great ceremony before the Military
Headquarters, where there was more challenging, by more guards. I
think another guard fell in behind to see that we did not bolt, and
we were conducted into the presence of the Supreme Commander of that
Military District.
He sat at a high desk in the centre of the room. There were several
clerks or secretaries in the room, all in uniform, and there seemed
to be considerable business going on when we came in, for numerous
typewriters were going and messengers were moving about. I noticed
there was not a woman in the room.
When we entered and were swung up to the Commander's desk, with a few
words of introduction, there was complete silence.
The soldiers who brought us in stepped back in a straight line, all
in step, and waited to be congratulated, with that conscious air of
work well done that a cat has when she throws down a mouse and stands
around to hear the kind words which will be spoken.
The Supreme Commander was a grizzled man, with bushy gray eyebrows
which were in great need of being barbered, red cheeks, and a
curled-up mustache. He spoke through an interpreter.
We were asked our names, ages, previous occupation, when captured,
and the most important questions of all, "Why were we fighting
against Germany?" and, "Why did we want to leave Germany?"
I was questioned first, and after I had answered all the minor
questions, I told him I enlisted in the Canadian Army because we
considered ourselves part of the British Empire, and besides, Great
Britain's share in the war was an honorable one which any man might
well be proud to fight for. I said we were fighting for the little
nations and their right to live and govern themselves. I told him it
was the violation of Belgium that had set Canada on fire.
When this was passed on by the interpreter, I could see it was not
well received, for the old man's eyebrows worked up and down and he
said something which sounded like "Onions."
Then he asked me what did Canada hope to get out of the war? I said,
"Nothing"--Canada would gain nothing--but we had to maintain our
self-respect, and we couldn't have kept that if we had not fought.
"But," I said, "the world will gain a great deal from the war, for
it will gain the right to live at peace."
At the mention of peace, some of the officers laughed in contempt,
but at a glance from the Supreme Commander, the laugh was checked
with great suddenness!
He then asked me why I wanted to get out of Germany.
I told him no free man enjoyed being a prisoner, and besides, I was
needed in the army.
All these answers were taken down by two secretaries, and Bromley was
put through the same list of questions.
He told them no one in Canada had to fight, no one wanted to fight,
because we are peaceable people, but we believe a little nation had a
right to live, and we had been taught that the strong must defend the
weak.
When they asked him why he wanted to get away from Germany, he told
them he had a wife and two children in Canada, and he wanted to see
them: whereupon the Commander broke out impatiently, "This is no time
for a man to think of his wife and children!"
When the Supreme Commander was through with us, we were taken to the
station and put on the train for Giessen, escorted by a Sergeant
Major, who had an iron cross ribbon on his coat, and two privates.
We got a drink at a tap in the station and ate some bread and cheese
from our pack, which they had not taken away from us, but they did
not offer us anything to eat.
On the train, where we had a compartment to ourselves, one of the
privates bought some fruit, and gave us a share of it. Our German
money had been taken away from us when they searched us, and we
had nothing but prison-stamps, which are of no use outside the
prison-camp. One of the privates was a university man, and in broken
English tried to tell us why Germany had to enter the war, to save
herself from her enemies. I thought his reasoning was more faulty
than his English, but believed in his sincerity.
He told us that every nation in the whole world hated Germany and
was jealous of "him," and that England was the worst of all. He said
England feared and hated the Bavarians most of all, and that all
Bavarian prisoners were shot. I tried to convince him that this was
not so; but he was a consistent believer and stuck to it. He said
when Germany won the war "he" would be very kind to all the countries
"he" conquered, and do well for them. He told us he hated England,
but not all "Engländers" were bad!
At Hanau we changed cars and had a few minutes to wait, and our
guards walked up and down with us. The station was crowded with
people, and the lunch-tables were crowded, although it was getting
late in the evening.
At Friedberg we had an hour's wait, and we saw the same thing.
Beer-drinking and eating was going on in a big lunch-room, but the
patrons were ninety per cent men. The Sergeant Major with the iron
cross did not bother us at all, and at Friedberg he devoted himself
to the young lady who sold cigars, beer, and post-cards in the
station.
We asked our friend who could speak a little English what they were
saying, but he, being a university man and of high degree socially,
gave us to understand that the Sergeant Major was lowering his
dignity to flirt with the girl behind the counter. He said it was all
"verrücktheit" (craziness). We were of the opinion that it was the
girl who was stepping down!
When we got into Giessen, they took us on the street-car to the
prison-camp, and we were glad, for it had been a long day for us, and
the thought of longer ones ahead was not cheering.
We were taken to the hut where the prison-guards sleep, and were
given a room at the very end, where we would surely be safe. We were
tired enough not to give any trouble, and when they left us, we threw
ourselves down without undressing and slept till morning.
At nine o'clock we were taken before the officers of our own Company,
and put through the same questions. The answers were written down, as
before. We were then marched away to the Strafe-Barrack.
The Strafe-Barrack had in it about thirty prisoners, but it was not
nearly full. These were all kept at one end of the hut, and at the
other end there were three men whose official standing was somewhat
of a mystery to us at first. Two of them were Belgians, a private and
a Sergeant, and one was a British Sergeant. They were dressed like
ordinary prisoners, but seemed to be able to go about at will.
We soon caught on to the fact that they were spies, whose business
it was to watch the prisoners and repeat anything that would be of
interest to the authorities. During the five days we were kept there,
waiting for "cells," we found them quite friendly.