BEHIND WALLS AND BARBED WIRE
THE English officer reassured me. “Be assured,” he said, “that you will
be able to interview your Swiss Consul at Gibraltar to-day. You will be
free the moment he confirms that your passport is in order.”
I was only too soon to learn how matters stood in regard to this. The
steam-launch churned its way through the water, and soon we disembarked
in the inner part of the war harbour.
Ten soldiers with fixed bayonets stood ready at the landing-stage.
A few curt orders and, with our few belongings on our backs, we had
to fall in in two files. The ten soldiers took us into their midst,
and at the word “Quick march” the sad procession set out on its way.
Everything around me seemed part of a dream. I was so horribly downcast
that I was hardly able to think. A prisoner! Was it true? Was it
possible?
It was horrible, incomprehensible! We were being led along like
malefactors, and the population seemed to regard us as such. The
soldiers told us to hurry up. I was so weak that I could hardly move,
as the fever still held me in its grip and I had taken nothing except
quinine for the last three days. The sun beat down on our backs, and I
had never felt more desolate or more hopeless.
We climbed higher and higher, through narrow, hot streets. Soon the
houses gave place to bare rocks on either side. After an hour we had
reached the highest summit of Gibraltar. Orders rang out, barbed-wire
fences and iron doors opened and clanged to, chains and bolts rattled.
A prisoner!
We were first brought to the police-station, and there subjected to an
examination. I protested with energy and demanded to be taken at once
to my Consul, as I had definitely been promised this by the English
officer. But they laughed regretfully. We were not the first, alas,
that had been brought before them and had made this same request! How
many had probably stood in the same place and been obliged to bury
their hopes in the same way!
After that examination we had to submit to being searched.
“Have any of the prisoners got money?”
Of course no one answered. We were ordered to undress, and every
garment was closely searched for money, cameras and especially letters
and papers. I came third, and was allowed to keep my shirt on.
“Have you got any money?”
“No.”
The sergeant-major passed his hands all over my body. Suddenly
something chinked in the left-hand pocket of my shirt.
“What is this?”
“I don’t know.”
He now plunged his paw right in, and what did he extract? A beautiful
twenty-dollar piece of the best American gold, and also a small
mother-of-pearl button, which had betrayed me by knocking against
the coin. This comes of being too tidy! Had I thrown it away two
days before, instead of hoarding it carefully, this would not have
happened. The English soldier rejoiced, for such finds did not occur
every day. But now he examined me more thoroughly. And to my distress
he extracted from my other breast-pocket, as well as from each of
the two trouser-pockets, a lovely golden piece and my small Browning
revolver, which had been my faithful companion all these months.
When I had been completely despoiled I was allowed to dress again and
to rejoin my comrades in misfortune in the prison yard. After that we
took possession of our quarters. About fifty German civilian prisoners
greeted us uproariously. They had been in captivity ever since the
beginning of the war, and seemed to have recovered their sense of
humour. Our new friends invited us at once to share their meal. We
threw ourselves like savages on the bread pudding which they had
prepared for themselves.
Then we started on our work.
In the first place, we were made to carry coal and water. We were
detailed according to height, and accidentally I fell in with the dirty
Swiss whom I had already regarded with such repulsion on the ship.
In the meanwhile we went on dragging sacks of coal, and we were careful
not to fill the bins to their full capacity. Were we not too weak to
do so properly? After we had carried on this job for some time we were
allotted our soldiers’ mattresses, consisting of three parts, and as
hard as stone; also two blankets. We were allowed to rest that evening.
But the first thing was to get a wash. I well recall the scene.
My filthy colleague placed his basin near mine, and stripped with
the utmost placidity. Hang it all! I had not expected so much
cleanliness, and inspected him critically. A perfectly shaped body
and clean—spotlessly clean! But head, neck and hands! I shuddered.
And then I stopped in the midst of my ablutions. My eyes opened wide
in astonishment. The water of my colleague was coal-black; but he was
completely metamorphosed. His black, oily hair had turned into shining
blonde, his face looked fresh and white, and showed delicate features,
the hands were slim and elegant. And was it possible? Across the cheek
and the temple ran the honourable scars of students’ duels—real German
scars! Such an explosion of joy! Such a cross-fire of questions and
answers! My comrade had been a _real_ German student, was now at the
head of a good motor-car business in America, and had left it all to
serve his country as an officer in the Reserve. We chummed up quickly,
and remained faithful, inseparable friends through all the weeks of our
captivity, until fate separated us once more.
The last post sounded at ten—lights out followed.
I had placed my mattress near a French window, so that I could easily
look through it whilst lying on the floor. The day had brought many
changes, and only now was I able to reflect on them.
The barracks in which we were quartered lay at the very top of
Gibraltar, on the south, where the rocks drop straight into the sea.
Through the window I saw, deep below me, the wonderfully blue waters
of the Straits of Gibraltar; quite far away on the horizon, the coast
of Africa, a fine and shining strip of land. Down below was Liberty,
ships wended their way to and fro, carrying men, free and unfettered,
who could travel where they liked and—who did not appreciate how
marvellous and precious it was to be free!
But that way madness lay!
The thoughts and events of the day raced through my brain, and when I
remembered that, with luck, I might have been on one of these boats I
nearly burst with rage. And it was my birthday too! Well, I had planned
it otherwise.
Like a madman I rolled about on my couch. When I thought of how
different things might have been, of all I had hoped for, and how I
had pictured my future, I gave way to utter despair, and helpless fury
brought the tears coursing down my cheeks without my being able to
check them.
Oh, longing for home—dreadful longing! But during that night I was not
the only sufferer.
Pale faces with wide-open eyes stared at the ceiling, and suppressed
sobbing was smothered in the blankets. The next morning, at four
o’clock, we were suddenly awakened. The English non-commissioned
officers went through the rooms and yelled out an order that all German
prisoners had to get ready to march off in twenty minutes’ time to
sail by the next boat to England.
To England! But that was impossible! Were we not Swiss? Had we not to
see our Consul on that very day? All our efforts broke against the
stolid, imperturbable calm of the English. We quickly collected our
property and, exactly half an hour later, the civilian prisoners,
numbering fifty-six, surrounded by a hundred heavily armed English
soldiers, were marched out into the bright morning.
But we wanted to prove to the English that our pride was unbroken. With
a clear and ringing sound, intensified by the anger that was burning
within us, we poured forth “The Watch on the Rhine,” flinging its notes
up to the skies.
A huge transport, filled to overflowing with English troops, awaited
us below. We had to run the gauntlet through a narrow passage that was
formed for us in the great crowd of travellers and those who had come
to see them off. But I must admit that nobody molested us, and that
no word of disparagement reached our ears. Room for us was made in
silence, in silence we were allowed to pass, even here and there we
encountered a look of commiseration and regret. On board, in the front
part of the cargo deck, a space had been partitioned off and sparsely
furnished with benches, tables and hammocks.
There stood two sentries with fixed bayonets; there was another couple
near the hatch over our heads. When the latter was closed down from
outside, we sat as in a trap. The portholes of our habitation were
blinded by iron shutters, so that none of us should be able to look out
or flash signals. After a short time a slight tremor ran through the
ship, the engines started, and our swimming prison, rising and sinking
slightly, drifted out into the open sea.
The journey lasted for days. We sat, closely guarded, shut up in our
room. Once a day we were allowed on deck to get a breath of fresh air.
A most primitive lavatory had been erected on the fore-deck with a
few boards, and whoever wanted to use it had to report himself to the
sentry. Only one person at a time was allowed to appear on deck for
this purpose. The food was good—real sailors’ rations—especially the
bread, the butter and the abundant supply of excellent jam. We beguiled
the time away by reading, story-telling; above all, we discussed
our future from all points of view, and what lay in store for us in
England. The two sentries, who always kept watch below, soon became
quite friendly, and we often frightened the poor Tommies into fits by
tales of what happened on the Western Front.
Rough weather greeted us in the Bay of Biscay. It was a dreadful state
of affairs for the fifty-six of us shut up in that restricted space,
without light or air, and the majority sea-sick. The sentries, and the
English soldiers who brought us our food, however, suffered most, and
presented a pitiful spectacle. But when we got into the Channel the
crew was seized with general nervousness and agitation. Drills with
life-belts were held daily, our recreation-hour on deck was suspended,
and the English soldiers never stopped questioning us fearfully in
regard to our U-boats! And didn’t we make it hot for them!
At last, after ten days, we landed at Plymouth. When the chain cable
rattlingly uncoiled itself, and we knew that we were safe in port
and had escaped U-boats, we watched through the bulkhead the English
soldiers falling on their knees and singing hymns of praise and
gratitude for their salvation from the German submarines.
Immediately after our arrival a tender came alongside and conveyed us
to terra firma—of course under imposing escort.
The English authorities were evidently unprepared for such a _large_
consignment of prisoners. They simply lost their heads. No one knew
what to do with us, no one what to advise.
At last we were packed into a train. I got a compartment to myself,
flanked on either side by a non-commissioned officer, and with another
one sitting opposite me, with fixed bayonets. They had been given
strict injunctions to watch me carefully, for the following reason:
when I saw that it was quite impossible that I should be set free or
recognized as a Swiss, I had reported myself to my Commanding Officer
in my true colours, the others doing likewise. He assured me that he
would transfer me at once to the first class, if I would give him
my parole never to try to escape or to fight again in the war. As I
naturally rejected this demand with the utmost indignation, I was sent
back to the cargo-deck, the only result being a stricter surveillance.
In the evening, at dusk, we reached Portsmouth. At the station and
elsewhere this huge quantity of prisoners (we were fifty-six in all)
seemed to bewilder everybody completely.
At last we were marched off to the lock-up. There also we found great
bewilderment and confusion. The lock-up usually affords a temporary
domicile to drunken soldiers and sailors who are picked up in the
streets, and who have an opportunity of sleeping off their intoxication
until the next day, when they are sent back to their platoon after a
sound thrashing [_sic_]. An old, obnoxious jailer, and two elderly
but jovial and kindly soldiers, were in charge. We were disposed of
in three rooms. They were totally empty, and lit by a miserable gas
jet. The window-panes were mostly broken, it was bitterly cold, and
there was, of course, no fire. We had eaten nothing all day, and were
looking forward to our supper, but there was no supper. Thereupon
we approached our two old soldiers and promptly sealed our pact of
friendship. A small tip acted miraculously—the old fogies simply
scampered off on our errands. We gave them money, and in half an hour
they returned, groaning under a load of bread, butter and cold meat.
Two huge pots of tea, mixed with milk and sugar, made their appearance.
We got some charcoal ourselves, and soon the three fireplaces were
ablaze. The provisions were excellent, and so abundant that even we,
famished as we were, could not deal with the lot.
Our spirits reached their zenith when the soldiers slipped us in a
few English newspapers. Our mental hunger had been greater than our
physical needs, as for weeks we had heard nothing whatsoever about the
happenings of the outer world. We did not mind reading exclusively of
English, French and Russian victories, as long as we at least knew
something of what was going on.
Alcohol was forbidden; but even in England rules seemed made only to
be broken. One of our warders belonged to a masonic lodge, members of
which were widely distributed over England and America. My colleague,
the locksmith, happened to be Master. When the soldier saw the
Freemasons’ sign in my friend’s buttonhole, their pact was sealed. A
small canteen flourished in the basement of our prison, and one after
another we were led down by the kindly brother, and returned thence
fortified, with pockets bulging with beer bottles.
The joke was that our sentries, who stood on guard before our door,
allowed us to go away quietly, and even begged us to bring them up
a few bottles of beer. At 9 p.m. our sentries had become so chummy
that we practised rifle exercises together, and at 11 p.m. one sentry
dropped his rifle altogether and tumbled backwards, with the coal-box,
on which he had been sitting, atop of him.
If I had possessed the experience which was mine after five months’
captivity, I should have escaped even then.
In this prison, as well as in all other camps where we foregathered
with the English Tommies, their first request, after we had become
better acquainted, was for a little note with our address and possibly
the address of friends in Germany, and an attestation that the English
soldier So-and-so had treated us well. These notes were treasured by
them as relics, to be produced at the Front, or in case of capture by
the Germans.
We were given tiny camp palliasses, which were so short that our legs
projected from the calves downwards, and so narrow that it would have
taken an ingenious circus performer to balance his back on it. We also
had two blankets each. We slept like logs, though, it is true, the next
morning found us all on the floor alongside the mattresses.
On the following morning—it was Sunday—we received the visit of an
Army officer of high rank. He inquired after our wishes. I pointed out
repeatedly that I was an officer, and had the right to be treated as a
prisoner of war. He was most charming, and promised me many things when
we should arrive at our destination—but kept none of them.
At last, on the Monday, we were allowed to leave our prison. As usual,
closely guarded by our escort, we were marched to the harbour, where
we boarded a small steamer, and after an hour’s journey reached a huge
ship which was used as a prisoners’ camp. After a long palaver we were
obliged to put out to sea again, for the Commandant declared that he
had no information about us, and no room either. Though this comedy
was re-enacted on the next steamer, the Cunard liner _Andania_, the
fluency of our Major’s vituperations probably surpassed that of the
Camp Commandant’s; anyway, we went on board after half an hour’s delay.
A fat, bumptious, English Lieutenant, who filled the post of Camp
Commandant and interpreter on this boat, received us.
When my turn came to be inspected I politely presented my request,
and forcibly demanded that, according to regulations, I should be
taken to an officers’ camp. The answer of this gentleman was quite
unprecedented, and showed up his vulgarity.
“I shall treat you with special severity, as I have already heard about
you. You bolted from Kiao-Chow, and have several times broken your
parole. If I hear another word, I shall lock you up, and will keep
you on short rations until you are unable to talk at all. Our English
officers are being so badly treated in Germany that I will make you pay
for it.”
It was a happy prospect. What could I do?
There were more than one thousand prisoners on board ship. The
accommodation was the most appalling that I have ever witnessed.
Without light or air the men sat huddled together under hatches,
and their only physical exercise consisted in running up and down
the narrow fore-deck. When we were led into the room which had been
prepared for us, I was horror-struck. I think I should have gone mad
had I been obliged to stay there for long. Our English non-commissioned
officer seemed a sensible man. Through his kind offices I was able to
secure for my friend, the locksmith, and myself a small cabin which
even boasted of a porthole. Life on board was very monotonous. We rose
at 6 a.m., and lights went out at 10 p.m. In the mornings and the
afternoons we had to stand about for two hours on the upper deck,
and roll-call was at noon. We took our meals in the huge dining-rooms
of the steamer. Twelve sat at one table, and I had to take my turn at
waiting, fetch the food from the caboose for the mess, and wash the
dirty crockery with the others.
M——, our Commandant, as a civilian, had travelled for a whisky firm,
and had made so much money in this capacity that he was able to buy a
commission. One circumstance had especially enraged him; as soon as we
arrived we were asked which of us wished to pay 2.50 marks daily, for
which consideration we would be allowed to take our meals separately,
get better food, and be excused from washing our crockery. Of course
we all saw through this rank swindle, and it made M—— specially mad
that we did not accept. On the second day I finished my report for the
English Government, and presented myself with it to Mr. M——. He burst
into offensive sniggering.
“You know very well that I will not pass on your petition, and you can
imagine what I shall do to it. In Germany our English Generals are
forced to drag ploughs over the fields; _you_ are going to pay for it.”
It was hopeless to persuade him of the absurdity of his allegations.
Every evening, when making the rounds at bedtime, he made a special
point of entering my room as well, turned on the light and said: “Still
here?” Too childish!
One day fifty civilian prisoners were ordered by Mr. M—— to scour the
first-class deck and clean the portholes. Of course we went on strike.
When we persisted in our refusal we were punished by being twice
deprived of our dinner and having to go to bed at 9 p.m. Moreover,
M—— was such a coward that he did not dare muster us and order our
punishment himself, but remained at a safe distance and sent his
non-commissioned officer as official delegate.
M—— foamed with rage.
“Of course,” he said, “it is again the fault of this ‘flying-man’; he
is at the root of the whole trouble, and one of these fine days he will
incite the whole crew to mutiny. But I will teach him a lesson, and
bring him before a court martial.”
I got fed up with this state of affairs, for I was totally innocent, so
I wrote M—— a very energetic letter, in which I expressed a hope that
he was only a “temporary Lieutenant,” not a “temporary gentleman.”
M—— declared that he would have nothing further to do with the
“flying-man,” and as early as the next day a steamer came alongside and
took me and some of my companions in misfortune from the _Andania_ and
its vulgar jailer.
How relieved I felt! The train carried us westwards for many hours. Of
course I was again alone in my compartment, accompanied not only by
three non-commissioned officers, but by an officer as well.
In the evening we reached Dorchester, where I was greeted by a totally
different atmosphere. An English Captain (whose name was Mitchell) from
the prisoners’ camp approached me and asked politely whether I was an
officer.
“Yes.”
“In this case I am surprised that you should have been brought to a
soldiers’ camp. Please forgive me if I cannot have you escorted by
an officer. But my senior sergeant-major will come with you. Will you
kindly walk alone behind the other prisoners.”
I was speechless.
As we were marching through this delightful, clean little town, I
suddenly heard “The Watch on the Rhine” being sung behind us loudly,
gaily, and with zest, followed by the most beautiful soldier songs,
and then “O Germany, high in honours!” We thought we were dreaming,
but when we looked round with amazement we saw a troop of about fifty
German soldiers who had been commandeered from the camp to the station
to fetch our luggage.
Oh, how our hearts beat! In the midst of enemies, in spite of wounds
and captivity, this flaming enthusiasm, this rapturous singing! I
must confess that the English were extraordinarily tolerant, and the
population always behaved in exemplary fashion. Silently, closely
pressed together, they stood on both sides of the street. From all
the windows fair little heads peeped at us, but not one contemptuous
gesture, not one abusive word. They even seemed to enjoy listening to
the old German melodies.
In camp thirty civilian prisoners were allotted a small wooden hut,
which combined our bed, dining and sitting-room. A tiny palliasse,
which lay on the floor, and two blankets made up our sleeping
accommodation. My Captain begged me to put up with existing conditions,
as he was unfortunately unable to give me a special room to myself.
The camp at Dorchester contained 2000 to 3000 prisoners and consisted
partly of old race-horse stables and of wooden barracks. A hundred
years ago German Hussars had been quartered in these same barracks, on
the occasion of the visit of Field-Marshal Blücher!
The prisoners were extremely comfortable, as the food was good
and plentiful, the treatment irreproachable, and there were many
opportunities for sport.
Captain Mitchell and Major Owen especially deserved praise for the
treatment of our men. Both were true old regulars, had been through
many campaigns and battles, and knew how to handle troops. These
two and the English Medical Officer presented the men with games,
gymnastic outfits and a band, and did whatever they could for them.
Special praise is due to the senior German prisoner, a Warrant
Officer, from Munich. He was a merchant, and spoke English fluently.
A most remarkable personality. He was really the soul and veritable
guardian angel of the camp. Nothing was done without his approval and
directions. He was the English Camp Commandant’s right-hand man, and
without him I do not know what would have become of the English, who
did not possess the slightest vestige of talent for organization. It
was simply extraordinary how this Warrant Officer looked after our
people and acted as go-between with the English. The English officers
knew full well what a help he was to them. By the way, after my arrival
in Dorchester, I had already sent in my petition to be transferred
to an officers’ camp, for I knew that Mr. M—— had kept back my
former one. After a fortnight it was returned from the War Office with
the remark that the name of some one in England who knew me must be
given. This was most unwelcome; but finally I wrote to my English
acquaintances, and in as soon as three days I received their answer
that they would willingly vouch for my identity. The papers again went
to the War Office, and I patiently waited for my transfer.
But time passed, and I still remained at Dorchester, and when, a
fortnight after our arrival, the other civilian prisoners were again
moved to another destination, I was able to arrange that I should
remain in the soldiers’ camp at Dorchester. However, I left my hut and
moved into a small room over the stables, where I was warmly received
by Sergeant-Major N.
Life in this small room was unique and full of intimate comradeship. My
colleagues were, apart from N., a huge Bavarian infantry soldier of the
Body Guards Regiment, whose nickname was “Schorsch,” and who acted as
our cook; a nimble and clever private in the Hussars from Lorraine, a
policeman by profession; and also two splendid rifle guards of gigantic
stature, genuine blond Frisians. After a week we received a seventh
guest. This was the sub-lieutenant H., the observer whom the English
had fished out of the North Sea with his pilot, after they had been
drifting about on the wrecked machine for over forty hours.
The comradeship in this room was ideal. The men had all been taken
prisoners at the great retreat of the Marne, and, as was to be
expected, these splendid fellows had only fallen into the enemy’s hands
when severely wounded. They were of such fine disposition, and showed
such burning love for their country, that my heart filled with pride
and satisfaction. The evenings were especially pleasant. We contrived a
rough game with a board and some pieces of cork, and gambled on _petits
chevaux_ regularly every night with childish delight.
But the real fun began when we started exchanging experiences.
Everything was new to me, and I was happy to learn at last from
first-hand information of our splendid battle and triumphs.
Every afternoon 300 to 400 prisoners, of course closely guarded by
English soldiers, were led out for their exercise, which took them
into the lovely open country. I often accompanied them. All the time
our soldier songs were sung; but with particular force and ecstasy
when we marched through the town, going and returning, “The Watch on
the Rhine” and “O Germany, high in honours!” Imagine 300 or 400 of
our picked men, our victorious troops under General von Kluck! The
English population behaved even then with the utmost restraint, and
never uttered a word of abuse or a threat. The sergeant-major told
me of a very nice episode. When Major Owen and Captain Mitchell were
appointed to the camp, their wives implored them not to go among the
“Huns” without escort and without being heavily armed. The two old
soldiers, however, kept their own counsel, and were—not devoured!
After a time they suggested to their wives that they should visit the
camp and convince themselves that the German soldiers were quite normal
people and not monsters as portrayed by the press. Naturally, at first
the ladies fainted away. But after much persuasion, and being assured
of a bodyguard, they ventured upon entering their husbands’ offices
and watched the doings of the German soldiers. The news of the visit
got about, and silently our male choir assembled under the windows
and warbled forth its finest songs. I am told that the ladies were so
deeply moved that they were unable to speak, and could not hold back
bitter tears. From thence onwards they often came and showed much
kindness to our men.
Another story also is very typical.
A new Colonel came to the camp. On his first round he was armed to
the teeth, and walked about between two soldiers with fixed bayonets,
one in front and the other behind him. When he met the Major and the
Captain, absolutely unarmed and unaccompanied, he reproached them
severely for their carelessness.
But he soon improved.
One day this new Commandant sent for these two gentlemen, and said to
them in a tone full of horror:
“Can you imagine this? We have been sent some new prisoners, and it has
been reported that they are full of lice! Such dreadful things can only
happen to the Germans.”
Captain Mitchell turned calmly to the Major:
“Do you remember, Owen, that we were so covered with lice during our
last campaign that we simply could not move?”
The Colonel was aghast. I must point out that though the Colonel _was_
a Colonel he had never in his life had anything to do with military
affairs. But that can only happen in England!
About the end of March I at last received news from my people. It
was nearly nine months since I had heard from them. It is easy to
picture my feelings when I held in my hands my first letter from home,
hesitating to open it, for all my brothers and male relatives had been
at the Front since July 1914. It informed me that they were still safe;
but, on the other hand, my beloved little sister, my best pal, had died
from the effects of the war.
Towards the end of March the order came that I should be recognized as
an officer, and transferred to an officers’ camp. My small bundle and
my hockey-stick were soon collected, and after a warm farewell to my
comrades I marched to the station with Major Owen.
I found the fine tact of the old gentleman a very particular blessing.
After a journey that lasted several hours we reached Maidenhead, near
London, where I was received by another English officer. And here, oh,
miracle, I also met dear old friends. Five shining gold coins which had
been taken from the locksmith, Ernst Suse, were handed over to my new
companion, and the latter was able to return them at once to me, as I
was an officer once more. Oh, the joy of our reunion! A motor-car took
us to the Officers’ Camp, Holyport. The sentries presented arms, the
wire fences were opened, and I found myself in the midst of a joyous
crowd of comrades. Who could have imagined this change!
I again met those I had last seen at Kiao-Chow—the victors of Coronel,
the few gallant survivors of the Falkland Islands. It is impossible to
imagine our joy. The questions and answers! the excitement! And then
the miraculous happened, for I was conducted to my dormitory, and there
I actually saw six or eight beds, made up with white, clean sheets. I
had been a prisoner for eight weeks, and these were the first beds I
beheld. Can one understand the shy reverence with which I laid myself
to rest that night?
In the beginning, I thought myself in Paradise, the more so as I was
again being treated as a human being. I was once more amongst my
comrades, and found my old friends, and was greatly stimulated thereby.
The treatment in the camp was good. The English Commandant was a
sensible man, who tried to ease our existence. The building was
an old military school, and 100 officers were imprisoned in the
camp—eight to ten shared a dormitory, which was at the same time a
sitting-room. Apart from this, there was a number of mess, reading
and dining-rooms, in which we spent most of our time when we were
not in the fresh air. The food was purely English, therefore hardly
palatable to the majority of the Germans, but more than sufficient and
of good quality. At the beginning we managed our own mess; but this,
unfortunately, was forbidden later on by the War Office. During the day
we were left comparatively alone. We were allowed to move freely among
the buildings, and in the garden. At ten in the morning there was
roll-call, and at ten in the evening “lights out” and rounds.
Of course we were not allowed to approach the barbed-wire entanglements
which surrounded the whole place, and which were strictly guarded and
illuminated night and day. Twice a day the gates were opened, and we
passed between a lane of English soldiers to the sports ground, which
lay about 200 yards away. Our games were wonderfully organized. Two
splendid football, and, above all, some perfect hockey-fields, stood at
our disposal, and we displayed such amazing form that even the English
were impressed. It is superfluous to add that these fields were also
surrounded by barbed wire and sentries.
A very pleasant feature was the bi-weekly appearance of an excellent
tailor, and also of a haberdasher, who provided us with excellent
hosiery and gave us the opportunity of renewing our wardrobe.
Our monthly pay amounted to 120 marks, of which sixty was put aside for
our keep. We were permitted to spend the rest; also to receive money
from home. The post worked without a hitch. Letters from Germany, as
well as parcels, took from six to eight days, and arrived regularly.
Conditions were less fortunate in regard to our own correspondence. Our
weekly allowance consisted of two short notes, and how gladly would
we have filled reams to our dearest at home! The post was the Alpha
and Omega of our existence. We divided our whole day according to its
delivery, and the temper of the camp was regulated by it.
Every morning saw the same spectacle. When the interpreter arrived with
the letters everything was abandoned and forgotten. The English officer
was surrounded by a silent crowd of waiting people. Each one’s heart
was filled with the burning wish to receive some token, some loving
message from home. What joy when one’s hopes were fulfilled, how great
the sorrow and disappointment when they were shattered. In the latter
case, we always said: “One more day lost.” When, two months afterwards,
I was back in Germany, and was asked on many sides what one could do to
give pleasure to the prisoners, I always said: “Write, write as much as
you can. What the prisoner longs for most are letters.”
We lived in very close comradeship. In the evenings we sat in groups
round the beautiful, large fireplaces, in which burned huge logs of
wood. The conversation touched upon battles and victories, sorrow and
death, and wild, adventurous happenings. We had many good books, and a
string quartette as well as a choir added much to our entertainment.
We played many a joke, and when we had had a jolly good laugh we felt
relieved for a time from the terrible oppression which captivity
exercised on our spirits.
At the end of April our quiet existence was suddenly broken up.
One evening the order was received to transfer fifty officers to the
Officers’ Camp at Donington Hall. Excitement ran high, for no one
wanted to leave; but neither entreaties nor opposition prevailed. We
had to pack our trunks and march off. I was the only naval officer of
the party, and that, unfortunately, because the English Commandant of
the camp considered the proximity of London too dangerous a temptation
for me. My devoted friend, Siebel, an army flying-officer, followed me,
so at least we two of the same service remained together.
On the 1st of May, therefore, we moved off again. Motor-cars took us
to Maidenhead Station, where two reserved carriages were waiting for
us. We remained undisturbed in our compartments; but the carriages
themselves were strictly guarded.
For many hours we rolled northwards. At the stations people looked into
our windows curiously, but preserved a quiet demeanour. Sometimes an
old woman, probably a suffragette, put out her unlovely tongue at us.
At last in the afternoon we reached the station, Donington Castle, near
Derby, where we had to fall in in squads. Guarded by sixty or seventy
soldiers, we were marched off on the order “Quick march.”
Outside the station we were greeted by a howling mob, composed of women
and undersized lads and children, but few men. In France many of us had
been accustomed to this undignified behaviour of the populace, but in
England it was a new experience. The women and the girls, belonging to
the lower classes, behaved like savages. Yelling and whistling, they
ran alongside and behind us, and occasionally a stone or a lump of dirt
hurtled through the air. But the majority were splitting with laughter
and seemed to enjoy their antics tremendously. At the first turning a
car came hooting behind us. At the wheel sat our Interpreter-officer,
Mr. M——, a fat and supercilious individual, whom we were to know
exhaustively later on. Mr. M—— was out to create an impression, and
he at once proceeded to do so by running over one of his own soldiers,
who belonged to our escort. General uproar followed, in which every
one took part. Lastly, two of our “Huns” sprang forward and rescued
the unfortunate Tommy from under the wheels. Thereupon the fury of the
women turned upon Mr. M——, who would have had a poor time of it if he
had not speedily driven off. It is most regrettable that he was able
to do so! However, this incident was quickly forgotten, and the crowd
went on yelling. It became more and more unruly and dirt more and more
plentiful, when suddenly four or five cows, placidly chewing, came
ambling along and tried to pass us on both sides. What followed was so
comical that we, as well as our Tommies, stood still and roared with
laughter. On beholding the peaceful cows the brave Amazons shrieked
despairingly, gathered up their skirts and ran! Ruthlessly the strong
trampled on the weak, and in the twinkling of an eye a confused mass
of women lay screaming and kicking in the ditches on both sides of the
road.
After that we were left in peace and were allowed to proceed rapidly on
our way.
All the time I sharply scrutinized our surroundings and noted different
landmarks, which might possibly prove useful some day.
The sun burned down on us unmercifully, and we were bathed in
perspiration when we at last reached our new home—Donington Hall.
Discipline held sway there.
The portals and wire fences opened before us; the whole guard turned
out and presented arms; the Officer in Command and two Lieutenants
stood at the right wing, their hands raised in salute.
After we had been received by the Camp Commandant, we were distributed
over the rooms, and I was lucky enough to secure, with four other
comrades, amongst whom was my _fidus Achates_ Siebel, a very nice
little den.
Here, also, I met a large number of old friends. Some of the survivors
of the _Blücher_, some from torpedo-boat destroyers and small cruisers,
and several flying-men from the Army and Navy.
Donington Hall was the model prisoners’ camp of England. To go by all
we had read about it for weeks in English papers it should have been
Paradise. Daily, long-winded columns abused the Government for the
luxury with which the German officers were housed. As usually happens,
the strongest attacks were launched by women, and they even turned our
ejection from Donington Hall into a feminist issue. Even Parliament
had to take up this matter repeatedly. It was rumoured that the place
was lavishly furnished, that we had several entertainment and billiard
rooms, a private deer park; and even indulged in fox hunts, especially
got up for our benefit.
None of this was true. Donington Hall was a large, old castle
dating from the seventeenth century, surrounded by a lovely old
park; but its rooms were completely bare, and its accommodation as
primitive and scanty as possible. There was no trace of the other
items—entertainment-rooms or hunting. After our arrival the inmates
numbered 120, and we were packed together like pickled herrings. One
cannot imagine what would have happened if the camp had held its full
complement—400 to 500 officers—as our mess, kitchens and bathrooms,
etc., were far from sufficient even as it was.
We loved the beautiful park most. Our residence was divided into two
zones—_i.e._ in the so-called day and night boundaries. These areas
were marked off by huge erections of barbed wire, which were partly
charged with electricity, illuminated at night by powerful arc-lamps,
and guarded sharply by sentries both day and night.
At six in the evening, after the principal roll-call, the day-boundary
was closed, and only reopened the next day at eight. Life at Donington
Hall was practically the same as at Holyport, with the difference
that, thanks to the park, we had greater liberty of movement, could
indulge in more sport, and had three tennis-courts. The food here also
was English, so that many did not like it; but it was very good. The
English Colonel was reasonable, and, although he often grumbled, and
was at times rather inclined to make us feel his authority, he was a
distinguished, intelligent man, and a perfect soldier, and that was the
principal thing. He did all that lay in his power to lighten our hard
lot, and took a special interest in our sports—which was all to the
good.
He had a most obnoxious substitute in the person of the interpreter,
Lieutenant M——, the motorist, who was a worthy counterpart of my
friend M—— of the _Andania_—not only “temporary Lieutenant,” but
also “temporary gentleman.” His family came from Frankfurt-on-the-Main;
he was director of a strolling troupe before the war, and he did
nothing to disguise his base disposition. I believe the English Colonel
regarded him with the utmost contempt, and the English sergeants, with
whom we occasionally exchanged a few words in the canteen, begged us to
believe that all English officers were not like this Mr. M——.
One evening, towards the end of June, we had a delightful adventure.
Outside the barbed wire a herd of wild deer—roebucks and fawns—used
to assemble in their hundreds, and ran about as tame as goats.
That evening, a darling little fawn, which had lost its mother, ran
past the wire fence, and, attracted by our alluring calls, it cleverly
wriggled through the defences into the camp. The fawn was surrounded
and petted (the huntsmen growled), and lastly it was carried in triumph
in the arms of a Lieutenant into the batmen’s room, where we intended
to rear it.
God knows how M—— heard of it. At any rate he sent for the German
Camp Adjutant, and said in a voice that shook with anxiety:
“Lieutenant S., is it true that there is an animal in the camp?”
“Yes, sir; an animal.”
“Has it come in through the wire entanglements?”
“Yes; it simply crept through.”
“Oh, this is dreadful!” remarked Mr. M——, and he seemed to lose his
voice altogether. “I must at once see the hole through which the big
beast has crawled. I am convinced that the German officers have cut the
wire in order to escape. The animal must also be at once removed.”
And so it happened.
And—this is no joke—twenty men from the guard with fixed bayonets
were sent for. The solitary German soldier with the innocent tiny
fawn was taken into their midst. On the order “Quick march” the whole
procession moved to the inside door of the fence. The latter was
opened, the twenty men with the German soldier and the fawn stepped
into the intervening space, the so-called “lock,” the inner portal,
was carefully shut. Only then was the outer one opened, the soldier
liberated the fawn, and after that the whole procession wended its way
back. Oh, Mr. M—— what a laughing stock you made of yourself!
After that all the entanglements were carefully examined, and, though
it was impossible to find the smallest cleft through which a man could
have crept, M—— could not quiet down for days.
Apart from the post, the arrival of newspapers represented the chief
interest of the day. We were allowed to receive the _Times_ and the
_Morning Post_, and, though they were nearly exclusively filled with
Entente victories, we knew them so well after a short time that we
could read between the lines, and were able to conjecture the real
state of affairs with approximate correctness.
But what rage in the newspapers at the sinking of the _Lusitania_,
and what anger when the Russians had to retire—of course only for
strategic reasons! We had manufactured for ourselves several huge
maps of the theatres of war, which were correct even to the slightest
details, and each morning at eleven our “General Staff Officers” were
hard at work moving the little flags. Often the English Colonel himself
stood in front of them and thoughtfully shook his head.