I have often been asked how I managed to endure the boredom of
captivity, and few people believe me when I answer that, far from
being dull, it was a period full of fascination. The camp in time
became like a great university, there was scarcely a subject that was
not studied, and on which you could not inform yourself, through the
books the Red Cross sent us. And then there was the spectacle of the
Siberian seasons. We were said to be living three or four thousand
feet up, and rain only fell on forty days in the year. In that dry,
crisp mountain air our senses acquired a keener edge of enjoyment,
and life a sparkle it never had before. The year was a succession of
delightful surprises. In winter the sun shone, as it seemed, with
passion all day long in a sky of cloudless and radiant blue. Through
some rare quality in the atmosphere the whole western horizon at sunset
glowed one rich and lively red--a daily spectacle which alone made
life in Siberia worth while. The nights were even more wonderful; the
stars were so much brighter than at home that it seemed as if we had
never known them before; and on moonlit nights the landscape with its
impressive contrast between the broad, glistening snowfields and the
sombre precipices rising above the river, was almost sublime. Spring
came; the camp was smothered in white blossom, and the hills were
purple with autumn crocus and rhododendron. Never again can spring be
so intoxicating as in that year; life, which had been dammed up by the
gloom and horrors of winter, suddenly raced along like a cataract. In
summer we heard the cuckoo calling from the woods all day, and in the
evening we enjoyed a rare luxury. At sunset a chill north wind set
in, chasing away the almost intolerable heat of the afternoon, and
bringing from the forest scents of birch, bracken, and strange aromatic
shrubs. These evenings were the climax of the year. Then, with dramatic
suddenness, came autumn; forest and field turned a brilliant yellow
(there are no dull colours in those hills; everything strikes vivid and
sharp). As suddenly autumn disappeared; as if by magic the trees were
leafless and the corn gathered in, and the desolation of winter had
begun. We lived a double life, enjoying this feast of the senses, while
within us changes were going on which only gradually became apparent.
Men not yet thirty began to grow grey, while those approaching middle
age began to look like old men.
[SN: GERMAN PROPAGANDA]
At Stretensk, too, there were concentrated representatives of all the
races at war from Hamburg to Baghdad, and merely to live with them
was a political education. First of all, there were the Russians.
With the common soldier we were on the best of terms. This brought us
several advantages, but to the Russians only harm. The prisoners of
war exercised a steady corrupting influence. Many a Russian soldier
left Stretensk for the front provided with letters recommending him,
in case of capture, to mercy and good usage, because he had treated
the Germans or Austrians decently. Our men used to spin the Russians
wonderful yarns of what a paradise Germany was for prisoners of war.
They did their best to terrify their guards by telling them tales
of mysterious German inventions, against which it was impossible
for the Russians to fight. Even before the Revolution, the complete
breakdown of the Russian Army had been prepared for by the work of the
prisoners. The higher classes of society were corrupted in a subtler
way by the love-affairs of the prisoners. There were daughters of
Stretensk manufacturers whose lovers had quite brought them round to an
anti-Russian and especially anti-English point of view. I met one of
these girls later on at Irkutsk, and she was an effective pro-German
propagandist. Her talk was filled with sneers against England and
Italy, from which I inferred that of her lovers one had been a German
and another an Austrian. The women whose husbands were away at the
front were the worst. Much was written about it at the time in the
newspapers, but no reports ever came near the truth. I do not know if
I should call these grass widows cynical, but they certainly made no
attempt to keep up appearances. Watching them, I recalled Milioukof’s
famous words, “In Russia we lack the binding cement of a common
hypocrisy.”
[SN: RUSSIAN SOLDIERS]
Outwardly, nothing seemed so firmly established and vigorous as the
Russian State. The drills went with a swing; on the march the soldiers
sang their fiery patriotic songs as only Slavs can sing, and every day
closed with the traditional prayers and the solemn music of “God save
the Czar.” But there were already indications of the direction events
were about to take. The men never concealed from us their hatred of
their officers, and in public their officers did not spare one another.
There was once to be a review, and we were allowed to watch it. A
subaltern superintends the drawing up of the troops and reports to the
captain that everything is ready. The captain gives a hasty glance
at the men and raps out a terrible Russian oath, which I could not
possibly translate. “----,” he said, “can’t you draw up your men better
than this?” The adjutant comes, and treats the captain to the same
oath; the colonel comes and does the same to the adjutant. Finally,
when every one was tense with expectation, the general arrived. The
soldiers off duty, anticipating something extraordinary, were watching
from all sorts of hiding-places, some peering through the palings of
a fence, some mixed up with us, others even had climbed up on to the
roofs, and were peeping from behind chimney-stacks. The general took
one look at the ranks, and then, in the presence of the assembled
troops, hurled at the colonel exactly the same oath that the others
had used, following it up with a stream of the coarsest invective. Our
guards could scarcely contain their delight, their glee reminded me of
children when Father Christmas appears. Afterwards they came to us,
exclaiming, “Did you hear the wigging the colonel got? Wasn’t it fine!
Isn’t the general a splendid fellow?” Scenes like this explain why it
was so easy for the Russian soldiers to turn upon their officers after
the Revolution. They had never been taught proper respect.
[SN: TURKS AND TARTARS]
And then there were the captured Turks with their subject races, the
Greeks and Armenians. The more I saw of them, the more enraged I
was that the Turks were ever allowed to lord it over nations whose
shoe-laces they were not worthy to unloose. The Greeks used to tell
us how at home they would be obliged to kow-tow and salaam to the
Turks, and with what subtle insults these barbarians would impress
on them their inferiority. I lived for nearly two years in the same
house with the Turks, and came to know them as is only possible in
such circumstances. I found them charming at first, but gradually
their character revealed itself as mean, perfidious, cruel, stained
with every vileness open to human nature. The Greeks had abilities,
range of intellect, strength of character far beyond the reach of the
Turks. They were my best pupils, and would compare favourably with any
that I have had at Bonn. The common Greek soldier was an ingenious
fellow, not afraid of hard work, and he earned a fair living by his
talents. The Turkish soldier was backboneless and dull, too lazy to do
anything but beg, and he even stooped to accepting alms from Armenians.
No solution of the Turkish problem ought to be tolerated which leaves
a single Greek under the dominion of the Turks. The Greeks are still
a race as gifted as any on the face of the earth; given freedom, it
is impossible to foresee what they may make of themselves, and it is
a crime against humanity to deliver them over to the repressing rule
of the Turk. There are even now newspapers which profess to regard
the Turk as a gentleman, and are pleading that he should be spared.
Unfortunately the Turks appear to know just what note to strike when
appealing to Europe. The interview with the Turkish Crown Prince, that
has just appeared in the papers, is a characteristic example of Turkish
“slimness.” He deplored the Armenian massacres, had opposed them from
the first, everything was the fault of the wicked Germans, and so on.
And he probably looked all the while he was saying this as if butter
would not melt in his mouth. When I read it I seemed to see the Turks
of Stretensk again, their silken accents, their girlish shyness,
their faces so lighted up with kindness that they seemed far too good
for human nature’s daily food--and leering behind it all unspeakable
foulness and corruption. We must harden our hearts and see to it that
the friends of the Turk are not listened to again.
Tartar newspapers used to circulate in the camp, and Greeks who could
read them told me that they were all written in ironic depreciation of
the Russians and the Allies, and by subtly worded phrases they pleaded
the Turko-German cause without seeming to do so. The Censor did not see
that a dangerous propaganda was being carried on under his nose. There
are some millions of Mohammedan Tartars in the Russian Empire, and
there is no doubt that these newspapers exercised a powerful influence
on them. It appears probable that, even if the Revolution had not
broken out, there would have been grave trouble with the Mohammedans in
Russian Central Asia.
Then there were the Hungarians--really a wild Asiatic race still, and
scarcely tamed by Europe. When they were at their games, no one else
cared to play, it was much better fun watching the Hungarians. Their
excitement, laughter, and shouts filled the camp. At times they quite
lost control of themselves, and once, when things were going badly with
them in a football match, they drew their knives and made a concerted
attack on the opposing centre-forward because he was kicking too many
goals. At Christmas-time the wild, barbaric music of their hymns was
splendid to hear. Their educated classes were always gentlemen, and,
as the traditional sympathy between Hungary and England did not seem
to have suffered by the war, intercourse with them continued to be
pleasant. Many Hungarian officers spoke to me about their intentions of
settling down in England after the war was over. They scarcely seemed
to regard themselves as at war with England. Caution will be necessary
in resuming relations with any of the enemy, but it would be impolitic
roughly to brush on one side advances that may come from Hungary. There
is a good deal of the untutored savage about the Hungarian, but he has
not the deliberate barbarity of the Hun.
[SN: AUSTRIANS]
The Austrians were not particularly hostile to England either; their
venom was reserved for Italy and Germany. They distinguished themselves
from the Germans by being able to speak frankly about the war. They
said quite openly, we meant war and we did not intend Serbia to
escape this time. And they gave their reasons: the last time they had
mobilized against Serbia, the troops had remained under arms for
nearly a year, and it had cost Austria many millions of pounds, besides
the damage done through loss of trade. They said that could not be
allowed to happen again. Such motives are too weak to excuse the guilt
of a world-war; but I could not but respect their honesty. They never
put the blame on to anybody else. The Austrians did their best to
educate the Germans, and to create in them some kind of moral feeling.
They used to point out that the wrongs and cruelties committed by the
Germans in the war must inevitably bring a bitter punishment, sooner
or later. The Germans used to stare at such ideas, mouth and eyes wide
open. They could not rise to the conception of a moral law which you
defied at your peril. For answer they would assert, we are so strong,
no one can touch us. In one respect the Germans showed a greater sense
of self-respect than the Austrians. You never saw a German N.C.O. as
an officer’s servant. The Austrian N.C.O.s did not trouble about their
rank, and I, a private, had an Austrian sergeant as my servant.
Our amusements were the same as those of all prisoners of war--learning
languages, study in some branch of science or art, music, and all
sorts of indoor games. We had a professional “Kapellmeister,” one or
two professional musicians, actors, and clowns, an orchestra, and
a fine choir, so that our evening entertainments were quite worth
attending. Thousands of books were in circulation. They were the one
thing the Russians did not steal from our parcels. Whatever we wanted
we could get by writing to Frau von Hanneken, head of the German Red
Cross organization in China. The Red Cross centre at Tientsin became
much excited about the fights for Verdun. We used to receive postcards
saying that Uncle “Nudrev” was in a bad way, his back had been broken
by a fall, and the use of his arms and his legs was gradually failing
him. Unfortunately for the pious hopes of the Tientsin Colony, Uncle
Nudrev enjoyed a most wonderful cure.
“The man recovered of the bite,
The dog it was that died.”
The Red Cross stores sent by Frau von Hanneken continued to be
misused. Certain Hungarian-Jewish medical students desired to visit
the Stretensk Yoshewara, but found it rather expensive to keep up. So
the chief Austrian doctor, himself a Jew, used to give them Red Cross
stores to live on, in order that they might save money for their vices.
And men were dying of tuberculosis in the barracks because they could
not get enough nourishing food. It is not my intention to make fun
of Frau von Hanneken; she is a lady to whom I am indebted for many
services, and it is no exaggeration to say that millions of men will
remember her to their dying day with unbounded gratitude. I am only
concerned with the Jews who rendered useless so much of her good work.
[SN: RANK AND FILE]
In time the different classes shook down and came to live together
in better harmony. Quarrelling of course was frequent. The officers
were said to have taken three thousand protocols, _i.e._ three
thousand formal notes had been sent in by the officers, accusing their
colleagues of some breach of military discipline. The educated soldiers
and the working-men came to live apart, and immediately began to
understand one another better. Even the thieving revealed itself only
as an expression of the good old Shavian principle: “Thou shalt starve
ere I shall starve.” I was never tired of listening to the life-stories
of the working-man. They had nearly all travelled outside Germany. It
seems that the German Trades’ Unions have special funds in order to
keep up hostels for their members in various towns throughout Europe. A
member of the Union travels almost free, except for his railway fare.
The German butchers were great travellers, and they knew all Central
Europe. The stories of their adventures seemed to come out of the
Arabian Nights. Here is one that happened to a butcher at Brussels. He
was out of a job, and was wandering along one Sunday very disconsolate.
Two servant girls met him, and, struck by his woeful countenance, they
tried to cheer him up. They went to the cinematograph together and
drank their coffee, and afterwards the girls refused to say good-bye to
him, but took him to their home. Apparently they had been left by some
count in charge of a fine house, and here the butcher lived for a few
weeks the life of a Belgian nobleman. He wore the silks and fine linen
of the count, smoked his cigars, drank his rare liqueurs, perfumed
himself with his exquisite scents, and even descended into his marble
bath. Then one day the girls came to him and said he must go, as the
count was expected back. That night he returned to his old haunts and
had a supper of pigs’ trotters swilled down with beer: he thought it
was the nicest in his life. “Isn’t it curious,” he added, “that the
nicest parts of a pig are also the cheapest?” I ventured to disagree.
“Why,” he said, “everybody knows that pigs’ trotters, pigs’ ears, and
a pig’s snout are the nicest parts of a pig, and they are much the
cheapest.”
[SN: GERMAN KNAVERY]
Most interesting of all was to watch the development of the German
mind. They were no longer exposed to the influence of the Government
newspapers, they were free to think and speak as they had been at
home. There was no limit to their stupidity. They all believed that
America would not dare to enter the war, because the 500,000 Germans
in the States would be too strong for them. It was surprising with
what unanimity they believed that every German in America would be
a traitor. When America did enter the war, they said it was a great
advantage for Germany, because now the States would not be able to
supply Europe with any more ammunition. And all these ideas they
arrived at without any help from their Government! Most men would
probably rather be thought a knave than a fool, and really I think
their folly alienated me more than their knavery.
Their knavery was real. I long tried to separate people from
Government, and to believe that their savagery was only something
enjoined from above. I found it quite impossible to make any
distinction between Government and people. On our high-days and
feast-days poems used to be recited glorifying Germany’s part in the
war. The Germans are great at amateur poetry, and it is the tradition
of the Fatherland that there shall be no festival without its poem. Our
Stretensk poems glorified more than anything else the killing of women
and children. These compositions were greeted with loud cheers from
every one present, so we may take it that they express the feelings of
the German soldier. In one poem Father Christmas related how he had
come to Siberia by Zeppelin, by U-boat, and by railway, and how he
had first flown over London and killed a thousand women and children.
Another poem celebrated the bombardment of Yarmouth in the winter
of 1914-15. (It will be remembered that the Germans, misled by the
placing of the buoys, did not succeed in reaching the land with their
shells at all.) The poem related how Yarmouth was battered into ruin,
and then the last lines described how the rising wind brings the sound
of wailing. “Does that mean the wailing of women and children? Of
course it does, and a splendid thing too.” Loud applause from all sides
welcomed this sentiment. From that time onwards my only thought was how
to renounce my German citizenship.
Of course I was spied upon, nor had I any right to complain of this.
It is the custom in every army. But from the very time I entered the
army traps were set for me in order to lure me into some incriminating
statement. Under the mask of friendship, people were always trying to
worm themselves into my confidence in order to find out what was in my
mind. The German takes to spying naturally; it is a trade that agrees
with his predilections. It was not always possible for me to be wise.
Once at the beginning of the captivity, when I was suffering from high
fever, I was stung by something they said, and told the Germans what
I thought of them. I have a confused memory of a roomful of soldiers
running at me; but I put up my fists, and they kept their distance, the
more so as the Russians at once interfered. Later on I lived in the
same room with two Austrian doctors and a very young German medical
student. The Austrians and I used to have long talks about the war,
in which both sides were perfectly frank. One day I was told that
the young German was in the habit of taking notes of all I said, and
running off with them to Remsi Seki and Kallenbach. This noble pair of
brothers spent a great deal of time discussing what punishment I should
receive when I got back to Germany. After I had made up my mind to have
done with the Germans, I had a splendid game of cat and mouse with
them. I was able to sound all the depths of a Jew’s guile. Kallenbach
smothered me with protestations of friendship, he nearly wept on my
shoulder. Often he would pretend to be a Socialist and inveigh against
the Kaiser, or, in the most plausible and convincing tones in the
world, speak of the cruelty shown to British prisoners in Germany. Then
suddenly he would pause--his face glowing with noble feeling, his eyes
glistening with the tears ready to fall--and wait for me to open my
heart to him. The acting was so perfect that, in spite of all I knew
about him, it seemed impossible that he could not be genuine. He put
his satellites to try the same tricks on me. If I had agreed with them
on a single point, he would at once have written a protocol about it,
which in time would have been added to my “dossier” at the regimental
headquarters at Cassel. I used to speak freely, but just within the
allowed limits, about any matter they chose to bring up, until I could
see their eyes almost starting out of their heads in expectation of
what I was going to say next, and then I would turn the conversation.
Next day I generally received a report of what they had said of me
behind my back, and of the rods which their imagination had laid in
pickle for me.
Then there came a day when the Russian and the German doctors were
exchanged, and Kallenbach and his company went home. It was a difficult
matter for them to get their protocols through, because the Russians
would not allow them to take a single scrap of paper with them. Even
the novels they had provided themselves with were confiscated. There
was a great scene of preparation for departure, hair-brushes were taken
to pieces, and notes written on cigarette paper packed in between the
boards, boots and furs were unpicked, and protocols sewn up in them.
When Kallenbach left he had smuggled about his person reports on the
behaviour of every German in Stretensk. He thought by being a zealous
tale-bearer to curry favour with the authorities, and to place his
own loyalty beyond a doubt. That might have helped him under the old
_régime_, but I doubt if anything can save him if he falls into the
hands of this Government.
[SN: ABDICATION OF CZAR]
And then there came an interval of three or four days without any
tidings from the outside world. Wild rumours were flying about,
but the wildest was surpassed when the news came through that the
Revolution had broken out and established itself almost without
bloodshed. At Stretensk things for a moment looked serious. The old
colonel gathered his regiment together and delivered a fiery address,
calling upon the soldiers to stand true to the Czar and country. He was
very busy in measures to counteract the Revolution, and endeavoured to
get into communication with Irkutsk by means of telegrams in cipher and
in other ways, but the Revolutionaries already had everything in their
power and were easily able to frustrate him. Finally, upon instructions
from Irkutsk, his second in command deposed him and took over his
responsibilities. The colonel was a thorough rascal, deservedly hated
by all his men, and he knew it, yet he took his life in his hands to
defend his order. Hats off to the old _régime_! The later Governments
of Russia have not produced men capable of fighting for them with the
dignity, courage, and devotion with which this old blackguard of a
colonel fought for the Czar.
The prisoners of war passed through some anxious days. There were
rumours that the Revolution was before all things anti-German, and
that all the German prisoners were to be killed or at least tortured.
Our guards reassured us, saying that even if ordered to shoot us they
would not do so. Our greatest danger came from our own Hotspurs,
who wished to make a sudden rising and seize the camp with all the
munitions it contained. They argued that, if that were done in every
prison camp throughout Siberia, so much damage would be inflicted
that it would be impossible for Russia to carry on the war. We should
go under, no doubt, but meanwhile we should have done our duty to
the Fatherland. But the new commandant sent a note to the officers,
requesting them to show the same loyalty to the new _régime_ as to the
old, and to use their influence to keep their men from regrettable
excesses. Our officers sent on a command to us to keep quiet, and the
danger passed by.
[SN: KERENSKI REVOLUTION]
In the Russian Army the Revolution at first made slow progress. The
soldiers of purely Russian descent were puzzled and not a little
irritated by the loss of all their old landmarks. They still clung to
the idea of Czar and Church. However, as I have already mentioned,
the Government had been in the habit of sending their Polish soldiers
to Siberia to get them out of the way. This policy now began to bear
fruit. With almost a devilish glee the Poles set about bringing over
the Russian soldiers to the side of the Revolution. They wasted no
time on ideals or high-falutin’ principles; they simply stated that
for every peasant the Revolution meant a big house, a lot of land,
and freedom to do what he liked in the army. It was a gospel easy to
understand, and in a few days the Russians were going about saying they
would kill all the rich men and each get a big house for himself. They
refused to stand guard round the camp against the prisoners of war,
alleging that so many prisoners got into the town as it was, that it
was no use keeping watch over them. The last thing I heard about the
soldiers was that they were going to the ginshops every night, and
selling their boots to buy more gin, coming home barefoot in the small
hours of the morning. The new commander went about wringing his hands
and declaring it was as much as his life was worth to interfere. The
Poles chuckled at the turn events had taken, and continued to pour oil
on the revolutionary fire.
Soon after the Revolution began, I left Stretensk to take up a position
at Irkutsk as a tutor in a Russian family. It was difficult to leave
Stretensk, although I had never been hungrier, dirtier, in greater
danger of my life, or in worse company than I had been there. It
seemed that human nature had yielded up its last secrets of vileness
and treachery, and that no more illusions were possible for me. I have
been asked what is the effect of such experiences upon a man. It is
difficult to give an answer that shall not seem merely sentimental
and weak. But there are two sides to the medal. I was at Stretensk a
marked man, and those who were my friends were also marked men. Their
names were noted down and reported to their regiments because they were
friends of the Englishman. They had nothing to gain by knowing me and a
great deal to lose. And yet I had friends as good and trusty as ever a
man had, and I owe to their companionship memories that I shall value
till I die. Human nature passed the examination, even of Stretensk,
with honours.