I have now reached a point in my narrative which dates us back to a few days before Christmas 1915, when we learned that the German canteen was to be done away with, from which hitherto we had been able to get so much food, in order to augment both our parcels from home and the greatly diminished Boche rations, and that hereafter we should be more or less dependent on our parcels. Some of my readers may find this quite an interesting point, as it indicates the period when the Boches really began to feel the shortage of foodstuffs. So many people continually ask me, “Are the Germans really as short of food as the papers say?” My reply to this is, “Yes, only a jolly sight harder up than the papers say.”

The old canteen was finally abolished with the advent of New Year’s Day 1916; and since the woman and her husband who had hitherto run the canteen also ran the whole show, they had a terrific amount of stuff to remove—all the kitchen utensils necessary to run a mess for three hundred and fifty officers. We had a little hand in the removal, as I will explain. Early in the morning of Christmas Day a Canadian officer came to me and asked me for the loan of my big basket before mentioned, also for some money, as he knew me to be in possession of a certain amount. His idea was to get into the basket, let himself be carried down by a couple of the British orderlies, and deposited outside the kitchen door with some dozens of other packages, amongst them a couple of baskets of similar type full of linen and plates. Accordingly we got him into the basket, called up the orderlies, and gave them orders where to deposit the baskets. All went well; the orderlies carrying the basket passed the sentries without trouble, since most of the orderlies had been detailed to help the canteen people remove their stuff. A couple of large pantechnicons were standing at the guard-room gate, being rapidly filled with the packages, when my basket’s turn came. It was evidently too heavy, and unfortunately a Boche orderly came out of the kitchen that moment and offered to give a hand. Just as he was about to lift it the Canadian officer wriggled or made some movement. Anyway, the Boche suggested looking inside in case of a cat or something being there, though he had absolutely no suspicion of a prisoner whatever. Proceeding to the kitchen to fetch the key, as it was padlocked, they discovered that the basket did not belong to the canteen people at all. Immediately they started to cut it open, and inside of course they discovered the “Jack-in-the-box,” who rose up with a wild yell. The Boches nearly died from heart failure.

However, they collared him and all his paraphernalia, also the money, which he was not quick enough to get rid of. He was taken to the commandant in the usual fashion, and stripped naked, whilst they even ripped up the seams of his tunic in their frantic efforts to discover some forbidden article or evidence against another person, as accessary before the fact.

As his trial, and incidentally mine, proceeded, it was clearly evident that the Boches suspected that we had been helped by the guard or some German in the camp. There was absolutely no evidence to prove this, and no reason for their suspicions whatever, but the Boche authorities were most positive about it, so much so that the wretched canteen people were arrested the day after their departure, and shoved in a little jail in Dresden, pending the examination of the court-martial. We chuckled over this, since the canteen people were absolutely innocent, and had grown rich at our expense in the past. Shortly after the first inquiry the basket was traced to me, and then the fun started. The commandant insisted that I had given the Canadian the basket for the purpose of escape. I said I hadn’t, that I had been merely asked for the loan of the basket, and that as I was not in need of it at the time I had naturally complied, and that British officers were not in the habit of asking their friends what they wanted to do with articles which were lent to them.

After this, for a day or two, the affair, in so far as I was concerned, blew over. Of course the Canadian officer was confined to cells. One day I was again called up, and informed that I had not only given the basket but also five hundred marks to the Canadian. Of course I asked them to prove it; then they produced a written statement from the Canadian, acknowledging that I had given him the five hundred marks, after which it was no longer any use denying the fact. They extracted this information by telling the Canadian that the officer who had given him the basket had also owned up to giving him five hundred marks. Their object was to convict the Canadian of the serious charge of bribing the guards, which was being brought against him. Like an idiot, he fell into the trap, and so we both got caught.

In a few days the members of the court-martial arrived—a full colonel, equal to a brigadier with us, a major, and a captain—and a court of inquiry was held forthwith, when I was accused of having bought the basket a few weeks before in the canteen. This being so, it was alleged I purchased it for the purpose of escaping or aiding others to do so, but I was told that, if I would make a clean breast of the affair, they would try to make my punishment as light as possible. Very oily they tried to be; but I was not going to be taken in by soft words. Then I was accused of providing the money. Both the money and the basket I explained satisfactorily; but the verdict was that, seeing I was incapable of behaving myself in a good camp, I should be sent away for punishment. “Now,” I said, “I will just show you to what extent you Germans are capable of miscarrying justice. I did not buy that basket three weeks ago, nor did I buy it in the canteen,” at which a general smile passed round the court, and the canteen record-book was brought forth, showing the date, etc., when I bought the basket. The accusation of falsehood was then added to the list of my other crimes. I then started to prove that I purchased the basket over three months ago at the camp at Clausthal. So convincing was my evidence that the court closed, pending inquiry from Clausthal. The report which came back endorced my statement. In the end they could bring nothing tangible against me except the money, which I explained by showing them a cheque written on the 1st of January 1916 from the Canadian officer in exchange for five hundred marks in money, which, as I explained, I had no use for myself. Finding some one who had, I naturally exchanged it for a cheque which I could send home. Thus in so far as I was concerned the affair blew over. The Canadian was, however, removed from Bischofswerda, and is now in Switzerland, having been sent there owing to ill health, probably brought about by bad conditions in the camp he was sent to. I may mention that there was another Canadian officer involved in this little episode, but since he is still a prisoner it would be wise to say nothing of his share in the matter.

Perhaps it is worth while mentioning that we tried our best to make New Year’s Day a cheery one, and almost succeeded in making ourselves believe we were having a good time. Since the canteen had been broken up each room cooked and prepared its own dinner, so between Christmas puddings from home and all sorts of luxuries we certainly had a good feed. We had also been able to get permission to buy a little wine—awful stuff, but heady. The result was that a little pent-up energy was let loose in breaking each other’s beds. The beds at Bischofswerda were roughly constructed wooden ones, with wooden bed-slats, on which rested a straw palliasse. By taking a run and jump and landing immediately on top of the mattress, the whole thing broke with a beautiful rending crash, sweet music to the ears of a prisoner whose energies and spirits have always to be under constant restraint. Of course there was the devil to pay with the Boches, and the bill rendered by them on the following morning was terrific. All sorts of new rules and regulations came out with regard to the beds, such as “It is forbidden to sit or take exercise on the beds.” This was quite amusing, since there were not enough chairs to go round, so I presume we were supposed to recline on the floor. Also football was prohibited for a few days, and there were sundry other strafes. Personally I was not able to join in the bed-breaking competition, but to see others venting their feelings was the next best thing.

The New Year, 1916, was welcomed by us all as a joyous advent, since we felt quite sure in our own minds that victory must crown our arms before the year was out, and that we should once more be able to call our souls our own. What optimistic feelings we had when, as week after week went by, the German food rations became shorter and less wholesome. Seeing that we could no longer buy food from the canteen, we thought the end must be in sight.

We were now almost entirely dependent on our parcels from home. Should they have been lost or delayed in the post things would have gone very badly with us. Fortunately our parcels arrived both frequently and regularly. The same surprised us very much, seeing that we had had many opportunities of discovering that the Boches themselves were getting perilously hard up for food of every kind. We had expected that a great number would have been either stolen or rifled. In a few cases there were a few things extracted, but not as a general rule, which speaks well for the German postal officials.

I have already referred to the Boche lieutenant who acted as official interpreter to the French and British, and of how he tried to make our conditions harder to bear than they were already. It is difficult to lay a direct and plausible charge against this swine, but every one can easily understand that in a life such as ours it was the little things which preyed upon the mind, the petty insults and ill-treatment. The very way this man Harbe said “Good morning” was an insult. Some of us used to receive the periodical called The Play, which everybody is acquainted with. Harbe would confiscate this from all parcels, on the ground that the morals of the British and French officers were so bad that the German authorities felt it their duty to supervise the literature in the cause of Kultur. Harbe would carefully explain this to our faces, and instead of giving him one in the eye for his insolence we had to stand and grind our teeth. Such a speech from a German second lieutenant to a British or French senior officer was of course disgraceful. On several occasions when French officers were writing both to their wives and lady friends he interchanged the envelopes. I don’t suppose he caused any trouble, but it describes the type of man who more or less ruled our lives at Bischofswerda, a camp which was in most respects quite a good one.

With regard to parcels from home containing books, Harbe would, as I said before, take months to censor them, and then would frequently withhold even such works as Dickens or other harmless books. When official searches took place, this beast made offensive comments on the photographs of one’s relations; and when large parcels came from home of foodstuffs, he would make objection to the amount and the quality of food sent.

“Why, chicken and tongue, that is a luxury, and prisoners are not allowed luxuries. You may have it this time, but you must not send for any more luxuries, or they will be confiscated. You spend too much money on food. Look at me; I live on the ration I receive: why can’t you?”

“Well, you see, we have not been brought up that way,” was my reply to this question.

Of course I was had up before the commandant for impertinent replies, but on explaining that I had only been defending myself against an attack by Harbe on the amount and quality of foodstuffs sent from home the commandant dismissed me, and I rather think it was Harbe who got told off. He once said that a prisoner of war was a man in disgrace, who had no rights, and who should not be allowed to amuse himself in any way. He said he ought to be made to feel the shame of his position!