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.