THE STRAFE-BARRACK
When they took us to the Strafe-Barrack, the Company painter was
summoned and put on our rings, which stamped us as desperate
characters who would have to be watched. There was something to me
particularly distasteful about the rings, for I hated to have my
Canadian uniform plastered with these obnoxious symbols. But I did
not let the guards see that it bothered me at all, for we knew that
the object of all their punishment was to break our spirits.
The Strafe-Barrack was supposed to finish the work begun in the
cells. It followed up the weakening of our bodies and minds, caused
by the fourteen days' solitude and starvation, and was intended to
complete the job with its deadly monotony and inaction.
We got no parcels; so the joy of expectation was eliminated. We did
not know how long we were in for, so we could not even have the
satisfaction of seeing the days pass, and knowing we were nearing
the end! We had no books or papers; even the "Continental Times" was
denied us! We got the same food as they had in the prison-camp, and
we had a mattress to sleep on, and two blankets.
So far as physical needs were concerned, we were as well off as any
of the fellows, but the mental stagnation was calculated, with real
German scientific reasoning, to break us down to the place where we
could not think for ourselves. They would break down our initiative,
they thought, and then we should do as they told us. As usual in
dealing with spiritual forces, they were wrong!
In the morning we swept the floor of the hut, and spread up our
beds and had our breakfast. Then we sat on stools for an indefinite
period, during which time we were not supposed to speak or move. It
was the duty of the guards to see that we obeyed these rules. It is
a mean way to treat a human being, but it sent us straight back upon
our own mental resources, and I thought things out that I had never
thought about before. Little incidents of my childhood came back to
me with new significance and with a new meaning, and life grew richer
and sweeter to me, for I got a longer view of it.
It had never occurred to me, any more than it does to the average
Canadian boy, to be thankful for his heritage of liberty, of free
speech, of decency. It has all come easy to us, and we have taken all
the apples which Fortune has thrown into our laps, without thinking.
But in those long hours in the Strafe-Barrack I thought of these
things: I thought of my father and mother... of the good times we had
at home... of the sweet influences of a happy childhood, and the
inestimable joy of belonging to a country that stands for fair play
and fair dealing, where the coward and the bully are despised, and
the honest and brave and gentle are exalted.
I thought and thought and thought of these things, and my soul
overflowed with gratitude that I belonged to a decent country. What
matter if I never saw it again? It was mine, I was a part of it, and
nothing could ever take it from me!
Then I looked at the strutting, cruel-faced cut-throat who was our
guard, and who shoved his bayonet at us and shook his dirty fist in
our faces to try to frighten us. I looked at his stupid, leering face
and heavy jowl, and the sloped-back forehead which the iron heel had
flattened with its cruel touch. He could walk out of the door and out
of the camp, at will, while I must sit on a chair without moving, his
prisoner!
Bah! He, with the stupid, _verboten_ look in his face, was the
bondsman! I was free!
There were other guards, too, decent fellows who were glad to help
us all they dared. But the fear of detection held them to their
distasteful work. One of them, when left in charge of us as we
perched on our chairs, went noisily out, in order to let us know he
was going, so that we could get off and walk about and talk like
human beings, and when he came back--he had stayed out as long as
he dared--I think he rattled the door to warn us of his coming!
Then the head spy, the Belgian private, who had his headquarters in
the Strafe-Barrack, showed us many little kindnesses. He had as his
batman one of the prisoners whose term of punishment had expired,
and Bromley, who was always quick-witted and on the alert, offered
himself for the job, and was taken, and in that way various little
favors came to us that we should not otherwise have had.
Being ring-men, there were no concessions for us, and the full rigor
of the _strafe_ would have fallen on us--and did at first; but when
Bromley got to be batman, things began to loosen a little for us and
we began to get _part_ of our parcels.
The head spy claimed more than the usual agent's commission for all
these favors, but we did not complain, for according to the rules we
were not entitled to any.
The process regarding the parcels was quite simple. Spies in the
parcel party, working under the Belgian, brought our parcels to his
room at the end of the Strafe-Barrack. He opened them and selected
what he wanted for himself, giving Bromley what was left.
Sometimes, in his work of batman, Bromley got "tired," and wanted
help, suggesting that a friend of his be brought in to assist him.
I was the friend, and in this way I was allowed to go up to the
Belgians' room to sweep, or do something for them, and then got
a chance at our parcels. At night, too, when the guard had gone
and the lights were out, we got a chance to eat the things we had
secreted under the mattress; but generally we kept our supplies in
the Belgians' room, which was not in danger of being searched.
Bromley, as usual, made a great hit in his new position of batman.
He had a very smooth tongue, and, finding the British Sergeant
susceptible to flattery, gave him plenty of it, and when we got
together afterwards, many a laugh I had over his description of the
British Sergeant's concern for his appearance, and of how he sent
home to England for his dress uniform.
We got out together when we went back to our own Company to get extra
clothes. We stayed out about as long as we liked, too, and when we
came back, we had the Belgian with us, so nothing was said. The
strafe-barrack keepers, even the bayonet man, had a wholesome fear
of the Belgian.
This Belgian was always more or less of a mystery to us. He was
certainly a spy, but it was evident he took advantage of his position
to show many kindnesses to the other prisoners.
* * *
There was one book which we were allowed to read while in
Strafe-Barrack, and that was the Bible. There were no Bibles
provided, but if any prisoner had one, he might retain it. I don't
think the Germans have ever got past the Old Testament in their
reading, and when they read about the word of the Lord coming to some
one and telling him to rise up early and go out and wipe out an enemy
country--men, women, and children--they see themselves, loaded with
_Kultur_, stamping and hacking their way through Belgium.
I read the Books of the Kings and some other parts of the Old
Testament, with a growing resentment in my heart every time it said
the "Lord had commanded" somebody to slay and pillage and steal. I
knew how much of a command they got. They saw something they wanted,
a piece of ground, a city, perhaps a whole country. The king said,
"Get the people together; let's have a mass-meeting; I have a message
from God for the people!" When the people were assembled, the king
broke the news: "God wants us to wipe out the Amalekites!" The king
knew that the people were incurably religious. They would do anything
if it can be made to appear a religious duty. Then the people gave a
great shout and said: "The Lord reigneth. Let us at the Amalekites!
If you're waking, call me early"--and the show started.
The Lord has been blamed for nearly all the evil in the world, and
yet Christ's definition of God is love, and He goes on to say, "Love
worketh no ill to his neighbor."
I can quite understand the early books in the Bible being written by
men of the same cast of mind as the Kaiser, who solemnly and firmly
believed they were chosen of God to punish their fellow-men, and
incidentally achieve their ambitions.
But it has made it hard for religion. Fair-minded people will not
worship a God who plays favorites. I soon quit reading the Old
Testament. I was not interested in fights, intrigues, plots, and
blood-letting.
But when I turned to the teachings of Christ, so fair and simple,
and reasonable and easy to understand, I knew that here we had the
solution of all our problems. Love is the only power that will
endure, and when I read again the story of the Crucifixion, and
Christ's prayer for mercy for his enemies because he knew they did
not understand, I knew that this was the principle which would bring
peace to the world. It is not force and killing and bloodshed and
prison-bars that will bring in the days of peace, but that Great
Understanding which only Love can bring.
I was thinking this, and had swung around on my chair, contrary to
rules, when the guard rushed up to me with his bayonet, which he
stuck under my nose, roaring at me in his horrible guttural tongue.
I looked down at the point of his bayonet, which was about a quarter
of an inch from my tunic, and let my eyes travel slowly along its
length, and then up his arm until they met his!
I thought of how the image of God had been defaced in this man, by
his training and education. It is a serious crime to destroy the
king's head on a piece of money; but what word is strong enough to
characterize the crime of taking away the image of God from a human
face!
The veins of his neck were swollen with rage; his eyes were red like
a bull's, and he chewed his lips like a chained bulldog. But I was
sorry for him beyond words--he was such a pitiful, hate-cursed,
horrible, squirming worm, when he might have been a man. As I looked
at him with this thought in my mind the red went from his eyes, his
muscles relaxed, and he lowered his bayonet and growled something
about "Englishe schwein" and went away.
"Poor devil," I thought. I watched him, walking away.... "Poor
devil,... it is not his fault."...
Malvoisin came to the Strafe-Barrack a week after we did, and I could
see that the guards had special instructions to watch him.
None of the ring-men were allowed to go out on the digging parties
from the Strafe-Barrack, since Malvoisin had made his get-away in
front of the guards, and for that reason, during the whole month we
were there, we had no chance at all for exercise.
Malvoisin was thin and pale after his three weeks' confinement in
cells, but whenever I caught his eye he gave me a smile whose
radiance no prison-cell could dim. When he came into the room, every
one knew it. He had a presence which even the guards felt, I think.
We went out a week before him, and we smuggled out some post-cards
which he had written to his friends and got them posted, but whether
they got by the censor, I do not know. The last I saw of him was the
day he got out of Strafe-Barrack. He walked by our hut, on the way
to his Company. He was thinner and paler still, but he walked as
straight as ever, and his shoulders were thrown back and his head
was high! His French uniform was in tatters, and plastered with
the obnoxious rings. A guard walked on each side of him. But no
matter--he swung gaily along, singing "La Marseillaise."
I took my hat off as he went by, and stood uncovered until he
disappeared behind one of the huts, for I knew I was looking at
something more than a half-starved, pale, ragged little Frenchman.
It was not only little Malvoisin that had passed; it was the
unconquerable spirit of France!