Prisoner in the Soltau Camp
From the Account Given by Amand Hasevoets, First Sergeant of the
Regiment of Fortress Grenadiers
I belonged to a Company of the Fortress Grenadiers' Regiment. We
occupied the interval between the Kessel and Broechem Forts when, on
the 4th of October, 1914, the bombardment commenced. The Germans began
with shrapnels for regulating their firing, and then, at intervals from
five to ten minutes, they sent their shells on to Broechem. According
to whether the projectile fell into the sand, into the moat, or on to
the cement, a yellow, black, or white sheaf rose ten yards high in the
air.
Towards evening, we received orders to protect a column of soldiers
belonging to the Engineers, whose mission was to destroy the bridges
over the Nèthe. Hidden in the fields, we saw figures gliding along by
the river. In the darkness of the night, there were five immense glows
and five detonations. The bridges had been blown up at Broechem, the
cannonading slackened, and flames surrounded the Fort.
We fell back on the second line of defence. We passed through Wyneghem,
Burght, and Zwyndrecht, where the regiment rejoined us. The soldiers
who had marched about thirty-seven miles, and for weeks had had
no other beds than the trenches, were worn out. They had scarcely
piled arms when most of them were stretched out on the pavement.
The inhabitants, from the thresholds of their houses, looked at the
Grenadiers with curiosity mingled with fear. What had these troops come
to do here? The sight of a few coins reassured them, and very soon a
carefully prepared little meal was ready in every house. The following
day, we continued our retreat by the St. Nicholas road. The cannon
was roaring and the ground trembling under a rain of shells, which
interrupted our march and obliged us to await the end of the storm
lying down among the beet-root, or turnip plants.
At Beveren-Waes, the Colonel called the officers together and talked to
them for a long time. They came back to us gloomy and discouraged.
"We are surrounded," they said, "by an enemy of overpoweringly superior
numbers. All resistance would be useless. Our last and only resource is
to get to Holland."
Desperate, and with tears in their eyes, the soldiers talked in low
voices to each other, giving utterance to their opinions.
"Fancy being shut up there without having fought, without having seen
the enemy! How humiliating!"
The regiment, however, was soon on the way towards Clinge and, in
the midst of a heavy fog, made a passage along the road which was
encumbered with carts and vehicles of every kind, in the midst of a
distracted population in flight. The soldiers thought sadly of their
departure from Brussels two months ago, of the enthusiasm, the pride
and confidence which they had felt, as they set out, on a bright sunny
day, singing as they went along the Wavre road, amid the cheers and
applause of the crowd.
On approaching the frontier, the men threw down their guns, cartridge
cases, and bags. For several miles the ground was strewn with articles
of equipment. This sight roused my indignation.
"No," I exclaimed, "whatever happens, I am not going to Holland!" I
picked up some cartridges and stuffed all my pockets with them, and
whilst my comrades crossed the frontier, I went with big strides
towards the Lokeren road.
I have no idea how long a time I walked, for I was like a madman. At
every instant, patrols appeared on whom I fired. Auto-machine-guns
passed along at full speed and, hidden in a ditch, scarcely daring
to breathe, I waited until these terrible engines of warfare had
disappeared. By incredible luck, escaping all kinds of danger, I
reached the suburbs of Lokeren. Peasants were working peacefully in the
fields. I approached them and asked whether there were any Prussians in
the town.
"More than 100,000," was the reply.
"Where can I find some civilian's clothes?" I asked.
"Over yonder, in that farm. They will probably give you some."
I entered the farm and, after a little discussion, I obtained some
clothes for fifteen francs, which I at once put on. After burying my
gun and my uniform, emboldened by my disguise, I advanced fearlessly
along the Lokeren road.
"Who goes there?" I heard someone call out.
"An inhabitant of Lokeren," I answered.
"Hands up!"
I obeyed.
"Advance!"
I obeyed again. I had happened upon a Bavarian patrol hidden behind the
trees on the road. I was questioned briefly and then taken to join a
hundred and fifty civilians in hiding along the hedge. After waiting
for an hour, as the mouse-trap did not catch any fresh victim, the
commanding officer, a Lieutenant, addressed us.
"As you are peaceable citizens, I am going to have you taken back to
the town."
We set out escorted by Bavarian soldiers. Near the bridge over the
Durme, a Lieutenant, stationed in front of a manufactory, was awaiting
us.
"Come in here!" he said. We entered and, inside the courtyard, we
saw piles of uniforms belonging to the Belgian Engineers. We were
ordered to put them on. I went to the officer and protested. "I am not
a soldier and I am not going to act this comedy," I said. By way of
answering, the Lieutenant seized my hands. With a pen-knife he took
some of the dirt from my nails and smelt it. He then took a little
bottle, poured some liquid over this dirt, and smelt it again. After
this, he gave me a blow with his fist.
"Your hands are not the hands of a labourer, but of a soldier," he
yelled. "Obey, or you will be shot."
Under the surveillance of two soldiers, who carefully inspected my
under linen, I put on the uniform and took my place among the Belgian
soldiers they had thus improvised. Grouped in a column, we were
triumphantly promenaded through the Lokeren streets, and insults and
jokes were lavished on us by the German soldiery. The parade ended,
after a mock interrogation, we were taken to a place without any
egress and obliged to bury a lot of dead horses already in a state of
decomposition.
Whilst doing this, I took note of my surroundings and I saw, on the
right, the entrance to a dark passage. Taking advantage of a moment of
inattention, I slipped into this. It was an ice-house. It was intensely
dark, but I groped along and crouched down behind some blocks of ice,
where I spent several hours shivering with cold. I could hear the
expressions of disgust uttered by my companions during their repulsive
task.
When this was accomplished, a sub-officer took it into his head to
count the men.
"There is one missing," he remarked.
One of us, a wretched spy, denounced me.
"He is in the ice-house," he said.
The Germans entered, discovered me, and literally kicked me out. No one
can imagine my state of fury and rage. If only any of these wretches
ever fall into my hands, they will have no time to feel bored, for I
am reserving for them a little fête of my own invention. On Tuesday,
eight hundred English soldiers and three hundred Belgian soldiers were
added to our number. They were real soldiers this time. As some of the
Belgian ones were in civilian dress, I made an arrangement with one of
them to change my uniform for his clothes. It would be more easy in
this way to play my part as a citizen.
The following day, escorted by Bavarians, we set out on foot and were
taken to Termonde, a march of about twelve miles. The walk was very
painful, as our only food was the turnips that the soldiers gathered in
the fields and threw to us.
Termonde was frightful to behold. In the midst of the houses which had
been burned down were drunken sailors, holding bottles of wine under
their arms, while they pillaged, saccaged, and turned out everything.
In one of the streets, the Burgomaster of Waesmunster stopped us and,
thanks to his protestations, obtained the liberation of the inhabitants
of his commune. I saw an officer dressed as a Belgian and asked him to
intervene in my favour, pleading that I was a civilian. The Belgian
officer immediately spoke to the Commander of the convoy, who replied
in excellent French:
"We have received orders to arrest the civilians in the districts where
our troops have been fired on. If I gave this man his liberty, he would
be arrested again before he had gone five hundred yards. Come and speak
to me at Schaerbeck and I will see." At 7 o'clock in the evening, we
were taken to the station, counted, given a plate of soup, and then
huddled into cattle trucks, upon which was a thick layer of manure.
In each truck were thirty-six Belgians and four Bavarian soldiers. We
then started in a broken-winded train! It advanced slowly, puffing,
whistling, and stopping every minute. Very soon our keepers began to
talk to us. They showed us their blue and white cockades proudly.
"Queen Elisabeth is Bavarian, too," they said. "She is a noble woman
and will be an example for the Belgians. We admire her and respect her."
In other ways, too, they expressed their sympathy with the Belgian
nation. Taking advantage of all this I asked one of them to open the
door, so that we could have a last look at our country. He consented
and, whilst my eyes were fixed on the pasture ground full of cattle,
the golden harvest fields, with red-roofed farms here and there,
looking so gay and cheerful under the setting sun, I, crouching down on
the manure, in the warm, infected atmosphere, with insects worrying us,
made a fresh plan of escape.
Presently all was silent and the Bavarians were dozing. Outside there
were no troops in sight. Sentinels posted from one half-mile to another
kept watch over the railway line. We were within sight of Zellick and
there was the race-course. It seemed to be a propitious moment. I
opened the door cautiously and prepared to jump out. Just then a voice
called out: "What fool has opened the door, letting in the cold?"
The four Bavarians sprang to their feet, cursing and swearing. They
distributed a few blows among us with the butt ends of their guns. Our
train passed through Brussels, creeping along like a tortoise and, at
five in the afternoon, reached Liége.
Our arrival was announced, and the population, massed around the
station and in the neighbouring streets, cheered us and threw us bread,
chocolate, tobacco, and other things and called out, "Is Antwerp
taken?" On our reply in the affirmative, they groaned: "Oh, God, what a
misfortune!"
It can readily be imagined how thankful we were for the food thrown to
us. Since the day before, we had had nothing to eat or to drink. Our
hunger touched the Bavarians who allowed us to get down on the line and
pick up the gifts strewn all about. For the men of our truck, we had a
loaf weighing about two pounds, a tablet of chocolate, and four bottles
of wine. All this divided by thirty-six did not allow of big portions,
but the sight of the courageous Liégeois city and the cordial
welcome of its inhabitants had comforted us. After the meal, when two
cigarettes each were allotted to us, we felt as though we had just had
a king's feast. A little emboldened, I went up to a German officer who
had a kindly look and introduced myself to him as an inoffensive pastry
cook of Brussels, who had gone to Flanders to buy butter more cheaply,
and was a victim of a frightful mistake. I was eloquent and persuasive
in my arguments. "You are free," the officer said at last; "ask for a
ticket for Brussels."
Intoxicated with joy, I rushed to the office of the military
superintendent of the station. He was a big fellow, with a head like
a bull-dog's. He did not trouble to listen, but gave me a blow with
his fist on my head, another on the back of my neck, and hastened my
departure from his office by a formidable kick.
On leaving Liége, we had to travel in absolute darkness. At Herbesthal,
a dummy hanging from a stake, and dressed up in the full military dress
of a Belgian artilleryman, caused laughter, in which our Bavarian
keepers joined. Without stopping, we continued our way as far as
Dusselheite. In a shed near the station, we were allowed to wash. It is
impossible to give an idea of our filth. Our faces were smudged with
dirt and filth of all kinds, our hair was tangled and full of straw,
our clothes were dirty. Each one of us, looking at his neighbour, said
to himself: "What a dirty creature!" Thanks to some soap and water,
after brushing and scraping ourselves, we once more looked like human
beings. We drank a bowl of soup, devoured three sausages, and set off
once more on our way. We passed by stations, went over bridges, level
crossings, and under tunnels. Frequently we met trains filled with
German soldiers, who shook their fists and shouted their insults.
We did not reply, but our eyes spoke for us and our hatred could be
read in them. Our apparently interminable journey came to an end
finally and, on October 16th, at 11 o'clock at night, after sixty-four
hours of travelling, we arrived at Soltau. At the station, we were
divided into two groups, soldiers and civilians, and were sent to
the riding-school. We had to pass through a crowd more curious than
hostile. When we reached the building, a sub-officer, with the word
"Gibraltar" on his uniform, told us to go in. We entered and found it
full. Without being disturbed in the least, "Gibraltar" struck out
right and left, yelling: "Here, there's room enough here for a pig." We
lay down on the ground and slept like brutes.
The next day, I discovered that the circus contained 1400 civilian
prisoners, of ages varying from eight to eighty-four. Among them were
the Catholic priests of Lebbeke and of Sommeleuze, the chaplain of the
Termonde Orphanage, the notary of ----, Abbé Bilaers, etc. All the
ecclesiastics had been compelled to dress as laymen, as the sight of
the cassock excited the soldiers' anger. They drove the priests along
with their bayonets, shouting: "Dogs, pigs, you pray in church and you
shoot in the street!" With the exception of "Gibraltar," the soldiers
on guard did not ill-treat us. They shouted, swore, and threatened,
but they rarely struck any of us. Very strict rules were imposed on us
and any infraction was punished by prison or by the stake. This latter
punishment consisted of fastening the guilty man to one of the upright
pillars of the circus. He had to stand there for twelve hours, and this
was excessively painful. As for our food, we had coffee in the morning,
soup at noon, and in the evening, and every third day a loaf of bread
of 1500 grammes. This alimentation was wholesome, but insufficient. As
I had a little money, I was able to get some extra food, but those of
my companions who had used up their money were reduced to devouring the
scraps that their keepers left them. It was a heart-rending sight to
see rich, educated men, who held high posts in our country, seizing the
tins containing the leavings of the German soldiers and eating these
scraps gladly.
Our number decreased, as the children under fourteen were sent back
to Brussels and the ecclesiastics to Selb. Finally, on the 26th of
October, all the remaining prisoners were sent to the camp at Soltau.
Situated in the midst of the Lunebourg fir-tree woods, this camp looked
very cheerful. The installations occupied a vast space and consisted of
96 wooden sheds, 150 yards long, and 12 wide, covered with bituminated
pasteboard and provided with electricity and central heating. Each
shed, beside the work-rooms and baths, had six dormitories, all built
alike. On the floor, which was raised saddle-back fashion, were straw
sacks filled with vegetal fibre, which generally harbours vermin in
quantities. Against the outer wall were shelves, upon which each man
could keep his clothes and toilette affairs. The discipline was strict,
the food wholesome and scanty, and work obligatory. Seated on benches,
we spent our days plaiting straw bags. Our fingers were numb with cold,
as the central heating apparatus was never used. My hands were stiff
and rigid with rheumatism, and very soon I could do no more work. I
sat there for long, weary hours idle, gazing out blankly, thinking of
my wife and children, and of my country, that I should probably never
see again.
On the 10th of January, the Flemish were separated from the Walloons,
and on the 25th of the same month we were told, to our delight, that
the Flemish were to be sent back to their country. Our joy can be
imagined. We began shouting and dancing and then, suddenly ashamed of
ourselves, we were silent. Our unfortunate Walloon companions were
weeping bitter tears. We endeavoured to encourage them, we assured them
that they would soon be freed and, in their presence, we hid our joy as
much as possible. Whatever may have been our social differences, and
our differences of opinion, the suffering we had endured together had
created a strong bond of friendship between us, and it was with a pang
at our hearts that we left them when the time came to start.
We were 2800 in number and we left on the 28th, at ten in the morning.
We reached Schaerbeek on the 29th, at nine in the evening, and were set
free on the 30th of January, at eleven in the morning.
I rushed off immediately, in the direction of my home. Joyful, and
with a light heart, I hurried along the familiar streets. As I arrived
nearer and nearer, my eyes became dim and my legs felt as though they
would give way. When once I saw the house, with its shop window full of
tempting cakes, just as when I had left it, my heart seemed to give a
bound within my breast and I suddenly felt weak and had to lean against
the wall. What joy it was to see my dear wife and children once more.
Alas, the joy was not of long duration. I could not forget that our
country was in danger, and I could not desert the brave comrades who
were doing glorious deeds on the banks of the Yser.
In spite of the entreaties of my wife and the tears of my children, I
made my way, a few days later, to the frontier and rejoined the army.