About three weeks after the happenings just described all the British officers were removed from Munden. How this befell and the manner of its bringing about might interest the reader. We were enabled to bring our condition under the notice of the American Ambassador, Mr. Gerard, to whom all British prisoners will always owe a debt of gratitude. I wrote home, representing the true state of the camp, and asking the authorities to procure a visit of inspection from the American Ambassador. It took about three months to accomplish this, owing to the time our letters were hung up in the German Censor Office. We were visited by Mr. Gerard in person about the middle of April 1915, when he was conducted over the camp by the senior British officer and saw for himself all the disgusting details. The outcome of his representation to the German authorities in Berlin was our removal from that pestilential place on the 28th of April. Before we left the weather, seeing that we were well into spring, was becoming warmer every day, and in consequence the sanitation was rapidly getting into a shocking state. For some weeks past Russians had been suddenly taken ill, and were always removed very quietly on covered stretchers. As they did not lie in the hospital-room of the camp, we inquired of the hospital orderly what was the matter; he said, “I don’t know, but they have gone to the typhus hospital.”
I shall always remember the journey to our new camp at Bischofswerda, and with what bright hopes we received the order to pack up our goods and clothes on the night of the 27th of April, in order to be ready to start at 4.30 the next morning. Packing did not take very long, as our sole possessions were our clothes, some precious tins of food, and a few equally precious books. When we assembled in the yard the following morning, we found there were to be about two hundred of us—fourteen British, and the rest made up of French and Russians and a few Belgians.
The journey to Bischofswerda was more or less uneventful, except that instead of cattle-trucks we were in fourth-class compartments, which was extreme luxury after our last experience—also that on two occasions on the way we left the train and received a ration of food, which was not too bad. We were decently treated by the officer in charge, the second in command of the camp at Munden, who had always behaved towards the prisoners with courtesy. Unfortunately he was only second in command. Had he been commandant, life there would have been very much easier.
We arrived at the station of Bischofswerda about eleven at night, and marched to the camp, situated a mile and a half away on the outskirts of the town. On our arrival there we were very roughly greeted by our new commandant, but the place was so beautifully clean and airy that we took no notice of him. Our change was certainly very much for the better. Bischofswerda, with its long stone corridors, looked like paradise to us. The German officer who had conveyed us there took his leave immediately on handing over his charge to the new commandant, and very kindly wished us good luck in our new abode.
About two o’clock in the morning we were all allotted our rooms, and on seeing these we again congratulated ourselves on our deliverance from Munden. The camp was a brand-new cavalry barracks. The quarters were well planned and beautifully clean. How we did appreciate the cleanliness after Munden! The sanitary arrangements were excellent—flush drains, etc., also a good large stone tiled shower-bath, with both hot and cold water. Naturally the hot was limited to so many minutes. A good canteen, dining-hall, and a large room turned into a chapel for the different religious services, which was also used as a music-room; also a small room set apart as a hospital and consulting-room,—all these were situated on the ground floor, the sleeping accommodation being on the second, third, and fourth floors. The sleeping-rooms were each allotted orderlies. This sounds rather nice, but when you have only one orderly for each room containing from eight to ten officers, and that orderly is on general fatigue for the Boches at the same time, it’s not so good as it sounds. Our orderlies were made to scrub the corridors, passages, and stairs, peel potatoes, attend the eating-hall, and every other kind of work the Boches might want done.
On inspection—or Appell, as the roll-call was called—we found we had been preceded the previous day by about thirty Canadians recently captured, from whom we greedily lapped up the latest news from the front and the old country, and were greatly overjoyed to find that things in general were not a thousandth part as bad as had been represented to us. Not that the reader must believe that we swallowed everything we were told; but when one hears no news from home month after month as to the true conditions, it is impossible to remain for ever optimistic—though, indeed, in the years that followed, as weeks followed weeks without any perceptible advance on the part of the Entente, we still remained optimistic, with occasional lapses of depression; but the key-note with us was always on les aura.
After hearing all the news we proceeded to the canteen, and found, to our huge delight, that we could buy, amongst other things, a small roll of white bread, and also eggs; in fact, almost everything could be got at that time by ordering the day before—eggs, meat, butter, bread, lettuce, and many other small things. Of course one paid preposterous prices; but we could buy food, which was all we wanted—also the food was served from the kitchen on clean plates and in clean cooking utensils. Indeed, we had fallen into the lap of the gods. Quite a large proportion of the actual ration was edible, though extremely monotonous, the bread being of a light brown colour and, although rather sticky and spongy, a very great improvement on the awful bread at Munden. At the dry canteen one could buy almost anything, so long as one chose to pay for it—quite good cigarettes, notebooks and writing materials, toilet articles, deck-chairs, in fact most things that a prisoner could require. Some little time after we arrived the canteen even produced wines and brandy. The wine at first was quite drinkable, but soon grew worse and worse, until it became nothing more nor less than sweetened spirit, which had a very bad effect on the stomach. The brandy soon gave out, after which orders were given to sell no more. Towards August 1915 we could buy occasionally some venison and partridge, and for special occasions, such as Christmas 1915, a goose, the price of which ran to about ten shillings a pound, but still it was worth it.
Outside the building the parade-ground and cavalry school training-ground, wired in by two rows of wire fences about eight feet high, served as an exercise-ground for the prisoners. In between the two rows of wire sentries were placed about thirty-five yards apart. Every fifty yards a powerful arc lamp, raised on high standards, showed up the designs of a would-be escaper. The parade-ground was roughly about ninety yards by sixty yards and the riding-school ninety yards by forty-five yards. This latter was laid with deep sand, and served as a football-ground for the prisoners—very hard going for a fast game like footer, but nevertheless much appreciated. At first the parade-ground was used only for walking, but after a great deal of persuasion and expense the British built two hard tennis-courts. I forget how much the cost was, though I acted as secretary to the club, but it was somewhere in the neighbourhood of about 3,000 marks apiece, or £300 for the two, although almost all the work was put in by the officers themselves, only two very old men and a small boy being the Boche contribution of labour, and these mostly spent their time eating, or so it seemed to us. However, we did get the courts, which was the main point.
The general routine for the day at Bischofswerda was as follows:—Appell (or roll-call) 6.45 a.m., outside on the parade-ground; then breakfast at eight o’clock, consisting of a cup of hot coffee, say third-rate, and a small roll of white bread, which was quite good; followed by dinner, served between 11.30 and 12.30 in three different parties, only twenty minutes being allowed for each sitting, including clearing away and preparing for the next sitting. This was due to the limited size of the dining-hall, which was only about 40 by 30 feet, too small to accommodate 350 officers. Dinner, as a rule, consisted of some mincemeat wrapped up in boiled cabbage, served with very nasty sauerkraut. The meat was good, but as it was prepared in this manner nearly every day it became rather monotonous. Sometimes as dessert we got some stewed fruit (it sounds quite nice, but it wasn’t), or a little cheese, which was always good, also two slices of German K bread, or black bread, quite wholesome, though personally I always disliked it. Supper was at 7.30 or 8.30, consisting of some kind of cold sausages, two more thin slices of the black bread, and a small pat of margarine. Appell again at 9.30 completed the day’s round.
The reader may not think the rations given either very good or very bad, according to his ideas on the subject of what he thinks officer prisoners should get. He should bear in mind, however, that the officer pays for this ration at the rate of £5 for a captain and £3 for a subaltern monthly. Nevertheless, it was, I think, possible to live on the rations as they consisted in 1915 at Bischofswerda. Anyhow, whatever the food might be, the fact that it was served up in a cleanly manner was half the battle. At the same time it must be understood that the German rations did not remain like this after October 1915, as the allowance for prisoners in meat, potatoes, and bread gradually declined, until the weekly meat ration dropped to 75 grammes or about 2? oz., potatoes dropping in proportion. The bread remained the same weight, but was of an inferior quality.
The commandant both annoyed and amused us by turns, though on the whole he might have been very much worse, and he was usually fairly reasonable when sober, which I don’t believe he ever was during the week-end. When he attended the early-morning parade, he would shout and scream himself hoarse, calling us, “Schweinhunde, alle der Englander sind Schweinhunde, meine Herren” (All the English officers are dogs of swine). Latterly he dropped this, since after a visit from the American Commission we complained of being insulted on parade. He was rather heavily strafed from Headquarters.
Taking it all round, as I said before, we might have had a very much worse commandant, his bark always being worse than his bite. The man who acted as interpreter for the British officers did not help to make our dealings with the commandant any easier, since he was both a swine and an idiot, could hardly speak English, and directly insulted us on every possible occasion, though he was only a private. Although hundreds of complaints were sent to the commandant, no notice was ever taken.
One day I received the magazine called The Captain from home. According to the rules it had to be censored by the interpreter before it could be received by the officer to whom it was sent. After a week had elapsed I naturally asked the interpreter for it. His reply was that I could not be allowed to have it, since it contained a story about war: which was quite true—it dealt with the Napoleonic campaign! My answer to this futile objection was “Damnation!” The next day I was had up in front of the commandant and given twenty-four hours in cells for saying “God damn the German nation,” which was the interpretation of my “Damnation” given to the commandant by the interpreter. Although one of the senior field officers, who spoke German perfectly, went to the commandant on my behalf and explained that “Damnation” did not mean any such thing, he refused to doubt the word of his interpreter, and I did my twenty-four hours! The twenty-four hours was rather a quiet rest, as a matter of fact, and I rather enjoyed it; but the gross injustice of the thing was a typical case of what an officer had to put up with.
However, we eventually got this interpreter removed, principally through the above case being brought under the notice of the American Commission on their next visit. But we only jumped out of the frying-pan into the fire, since we got another interpreter, this time in the shape of an officer, who turned out to be very much worse. Sometimes I have it in my heart to pity the latter, since there are two or three French officers and half a dozen British who are waiting for him after the War, and then I think he will have a short shrift. About this time all the officers were again warned for inoculation, both for typhus and cholera, but the operation was carried out in a very much gentler manner than on the previous occasion.
