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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1087d46 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #51222 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51222) diff --git a/old/51222-0.txt b/old/51222-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 787c0f2..0000000 --- a/old/51222-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3699 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Captive at Carlsruhe and Other German -Prison Camps, by Joseph Lee - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: A Captive at Carlsruhe and Other German Prison Camps - -Author: Joseph Lee - -Release Date: February 15, 2016 [EBook #51222] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CAPTIVE AT CARLSRUHE *** - - - - -Produced by MWS, Craig Kirkwood, and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive.) - - - - - - -Transcriber’s Notes: - -Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). - -Additional Transcriber’s Notes are at the end. - - * * * * * - -A CAPTIVE AT CARLSRUHE - - * * * * * - - +-----------------------+ - | _BY THE SAME AUTHOR_ | - +-----------------------+ - | | - | BALLADS OF BATTLE | - | | - | WORK-A-DAY WARRIORS | - | | - | Each 3_s._ 6_d._ net. | - +-----------------------+ - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: A CORNER OF CARLSRUHE CAMP] - - - - -A CAPTIVE AT CARLSRUHE AND OTHER GERMAN PRISON CAMPS - - - BY JOSEPH LEE - - WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS BY THE AUTHOR - - “Now you shall have no worse prison than my chamber, nor jailer than - myself” - - LONDON: JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD - NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY. MCMXX - - * * * * * - -WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, LONDON AND BECCLES, ENGLAND - - * * * * * - -TO - -ALL MY FELLOWS IN MISFORTUNE OF MY OWN KIN AND OF THE ALLIED COUNTRIES -WHOSE VARIED COMPANIONSHIP HELPED TO LIGHTEN MY MANY DAYS OF CAPTIVITY - - - - -CONTENTS - - - PART I CAUDRY--LE CATEAU--CARLSRUHE - - I - PAGE - The first day--The search--Letters of divorcement--A reading - of the Pickwickians--Fellows in misfortune--A sculptor--A - Sappho--The bell for the dead--Sedan--The vulture 15 - - II - - Carlsruhe camp--Crumbs from the rich man’s table--Tea with - Colonel Turano--Shamrock for dinner!--First letters and - parcels--A Nazarite--Christmas at Carlsruhe--Sketching the - Commandant 29 - - III - - Funeral of a prisoner of war at Carlsruhe--First freedom for - a year--In the streets--A wreath from the Grand Duchess of - Baden--The Rev. Mr. Flad--A lecture on Abyssinia--A black - mood 45 - - IV - - Entertainment in exile--The camp theatre--“Asile de - Nuit”--Scene-painter, scene-shifter, poster-artist, actor, - prompter, “noises-off,” and playwright--“A Chelsea Christmas - Eve”--“A Venetian Vignette”--A nightingale “off”--“How - he Lied to her Husband”--“The Rising of the Moon”--“The - Homeland” 59 - - V - - Victims of the cruiser _Wolf_--Suicide of a Japanese - captain--“In the dark and among the ice”--A bottle - message--Clinging to office--The Debating Society--The vines - and vineyards of France--“Happy in all things--saving these - bonds!”--A straining of the Entente--A “stirring time”--A - voluntary fast! 80 - - VI - - Air raids--British airmen brought down--Dust to dust--An - inimitable imitator--Songs from Coimbra--A German - bombardment--March, 1918--The bath attendant--Our - orderlies--Gustav--Imprisonment “for revolt” 96 - - VII - - Carlsruhe at its kindliest--The chestnut trees--Aspen and - poplar--The new hut--“Torrents of Spring!”--Linguistic - efforts--A surprise to Mother--A dinner with the - Italians--The last day in Carlsruhe 113 - - PART II BEESKOW--BERLIN - - VIII - - The journey--“A Roman holiday”--Our new quarters--The - old tower--The _Kantine_ and the catering--“Much - reading----”--“East Lynne,” by Carlyle!--Our walks - abroad--The stork tower--Birds of a feather 131 - - IX - - Escapes and escapades--“_Achtung!_”--The flight that - failed--Confinement in the “Tower”--Massacre of the - innocents--“Patience” and impatience--Ragging the - Commandant--“His Excellency wishes” 153 - - X - - The _Marienkirche_--Organ pipes for munitions--Madame - Reinl--For the dead--A Polish baptism--Adventures - afoot--“_Kuchen!_”--The ancient road-mender--“In since Mons!” 170 - - XI - - The Revolution--“_Bientôt la paix!_”--A smuggled copy of - The Times--Abdication of the Kaiser--The passing of - the Commandant--The Red Flag is flown--Latitudes and - liberties--Sketching in the streets--“_Nach der Heimat!_”--A - soldiers’ ball--“_Warum ist der Krieg?_”--Murillo’s - “Immaculate Conception” 185 - - XII - - In Berlin during the Revolution--“Thank God, Britain has - won!”--The _Dom_ and the Galleries--The Palace--“_Für Ebert - und Hasse!_”--The Hindenburg statue--Liebknecht and Rosa - Luxemburg--The machine-gun waggons come up--Caricatures - of the Kaiser--Captivity de luxe!--“Are you English - officers?”--Freedom--“_Es ist vollbracht!_” 203 - - - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - - - PAGE - - A Corner of Carlsruhe Camp _Frontispiece_ - - Fellows in Misfortune 15 - - A Reading of the Pickwickians 21 - - A Sculptor 23 - - The Unter-Offizier 25 - - Christmas Day at Carlsruhe 28 - - Arrival of the Parcel Cart 29 - - The Chapel at Carlsruhe 31 - - Col. Albert Turano 33 - - The Camp Commandant at Carlsruhe 38 - - A Game of Cards 41 - - Funeral of a British Prisoner of War 44 - - A Serbian Colonel 45 - - The Catholic Priest 51 - - The Rev. Mr. Flad 52 - - An Italian Major of Mountain Artillery 56 - - Playbill, “The Rising of the Moon” 58 - - Our Orchestra 59 - - A Carlsruhe Concert Programme 62 - - “A Chelsea Christmas Eve” 64 - - “A Venetian Vignette” 70 - - “How He Lied to Her Husband.” Playbill 72 - - “J’invite le Colonel.” Playbill 73 - - One of our Orchestra 79 - - Engineer of the “Hitachi Maru” 80 - - Captain of the “Tarantella” 84 - - A Serbian Officer Prisoner 86 - - A Rehearsal 88 - - Twice Wounded 95 - - Orderly Hanet, “Le Père Noël” 96 - - Funeral of Two British Aviators 100 - - Captain Teixeira 104 - - Orderly Toulon, Chasseur Alpini 110 - - The two Serbian Colonels take the Sun 112 - - Lt. Bertolotti 113 - - Lt. Caruso 116 - - Lt. Visco 119 - - Lt. Lazarri 121 - - Maggiore Tuzzi 125 - - The “Altes Amt,” Beeskow Lager 130 - - The Outer Walls of Beeskow Lager 131 - - The Prison Camp at Beeskow: An - Audience with the Commandant 135 - - The Old Tower, Beeskow 138 - - Herr Solomon, the Kantine Keeper 141 - - “Only One Book!” 142 - - The Stork Tower, Beeskow 147 - - Prisoners All 149 - - The Prison Gateway 152 - - The Marienkirche, Beeskow 156 - - The Late Lieut. Robinson, V.C. 159 - - Caricature of the Camp Commandant 165 - - Narrow Alley, Beeskow 169 - - Service for the Dead 175 - - Old Inn at Beeskow, now burned down 179 - - “In since Mons!” 183 - - Kirchestrasse, Beeskow 184 - - The Oldest House in Beeskow 196 - - Murillo’s “Immaculate Conception of - the Virgin.” (_Painted by a French - officer, prisoner of war, on the - outer wall of the camp_) 200 - - Captain Tim Sugrue 202 - - A Caricature of the Kaiser. (_Bought - in the streets of Berlin during - the Revolution_) 213 - - * * * * * - -PART I CAUDRY--LE CATEAU--CARLSRUHE - - * * * * * - -A CAPTIVE AT CARLSRUHE - -[Illustration: Cap improvized from an aviator’s boot. - -A modern Icarus. - -Chausseur à pied. - -FELLOWS IN MISFORTUNE.] - - - - -I THE FIRST DAY - - -As we limped and stumbled into Caudry in the dusk we presented a very -disturbing spectacle. - -Two young French women stood at a cottage door, and, when our doleful -procession passed, one of them flung herself into her sister’s arms in -a paroxysm of grief. - -The good folk of the town would have slipped bread into our hands, but -our German guards pressed them back with their rifles. Bayonets and -rifle butts could not prevent them, however, from flinging us words of -cheer and encouragement. “_Courage! Bonne chance! Bonne nuit!_” - -How illogical is war! This very morning, as we entered the first -village in which German troops were billeted, we found them waiting to -serve us, with outset tables on which were clean glasses and pitchers -of clear water! Earlier, while the enemy attack was still developing, I -observed a German--himself at the charge, and with at his elbow Death, -the equal foeman of all who fight--wave a reassuring hand to a British -soldier prisoner who was showing signs of distress. - -So in the dark we came to a grim factory, into which we were shepherded -for the night. We had had nothing to eat all day; we were to have -nothing to eat now. There was, however, an issuing of bowls of what, -for lack of a better name--or of a worse--was designated coffee. - -There was now also to be a search, and a giving up of all papers, -knives, razors, or other steel instruments--bare bodkins by which -we might be disposed to seek redress, relief, or release. Search had -already been made at a German headquarters within a few miles of -the line. Prior to which, as we marched down heavily flanked by our -guards, I had, with surreptitious hand thrust into my tunic pocket, -succeeded in tearing up and scattering over the land, sundry military -papers, and the proof sheets of a book of mine in which were some very -complimentary references to the Kaiser. Here it was also that a wounded -fellow-officer, giving up his letters, and asking me to explain that -two from his wife he had not yet read, the gnarled old German officer -handed them back with a salute. - -It was difficult to parade the men for search now. They raised -themselves on an elbow or sat up and endeavoured to shake the sleep -from their eyes, and then dropped heavily back upon the floor again. -Ultimately they were herded to one end of the factory, from which -they emerged in file, dropping as they passed their poor, precious -epistolatory possessions--letters with crosses and baby kisses--into -an outstretched sack. One man approached me and asked that he might -retain papers, including a written confession, necessary to divorce -proceedings against his wife. I put the case to the German officer; -he put it to his military conscience, and decided. Yes, they might be -retained. - -That first night I slept without dreaming; it was when I awoke that I -appeared to be in a dream. - -At noon next day I received the first meal of which I had partaken -for the last forty-eight hours. It consisted of a mess of beans and -potatoes, which I, being then in fit state to sympathize entirely with -Esau, found more than palatable. Later, in the afternoon, when a red -sword lay across the western sky, we marched to Le Cateau. Here there -was a separating of sheep from goats, the senior officers being housed -somewhere with more or less of comfort, doubtless, while all below the -rank of Captain were packed into another discarded factory, whose only -production for some time to come seemed likely to be human misery. - -Followed four melancholy and miserable days, whose passing was not to -be measured by figures on a dial or dates upon a calendar, but by the -clamour of appetites unappeased; by the entry of our dole of bread and -our basin of skilly. In our waking hours we discussed only food; by -night we dreamed of monumental menus displayed on table-covers of snowy -whiteness. Scenting a possible profit, a German soldier insinuated into -the camp and put up for auction some half-dozen tins of sardines, to -the provocation almost of a riot. - -Our billets were dirty and verminous. Properly organized and harnessed -there was a sufficiency of performance and activity in the fleas to -have supplied the motive power to the whole factory! We could not -shave, because we had no soap nor steel; we could not wash, because the -water was frozen in the pump, and icicles hung by the wall. - -If there was little to eat there was even less to read, the only -literature in the whole company consisting of one Testament and one -Book of Common Prayer, and these being in continual demand. - -On the fifth day there came a break in the monotony, some sixteen of us -being removed to the headquarters, where had been an examination on our -arrival. As we waited for admittance a few French folk gathered around, -and two girls from a house opposite made efforts at conversation. Our -guards menaced them not too seriously with their bayonets, whereupon -they scampered for their house and slammed the door. In a few minutes -the door was cautiously opened again; there was a ripple of laughter, -and two mischievous faces, with a mocking grimace for the Army of -Occupation, appeared round the post. - -In our new quarters eight of us occupied one room. Report had it -that the walls, besides various pieces of pendent paper, had ears, -a dictaphone being supposedly secreted on the premises. That being -so, the Germans are never likely to have heard much that was good of -themselves. - -[Illustration: A READING OF THE PICKWICKIANS.] - -A search disclosed treasure in the shape of sundry parts of the -Pickwick Papers, not certainly the famous original parts in their -green--shall we say their evergreen covers?--but sections devised for -the simultaneous satisfying of a number of readers. These parts we -carefully gathered together, when it was discovered that the immortal -transactions began with the celebrated bachelor supper given by Mr. Bob -Sawyer at his lodgings in Lant Street, in the Borough. Here, indeed, -was matter to cause gastronomic agitation in starving men! Yet, need -we, then, go supperless to bed? Shall we not also become Pickwickians, -and, constituting ourselves members of the Club, drop in upon the party -as not entirely unwelcome guests? And so I read until “lights out” sent -us perforce to bed. - -Recalling that it was my birthday, and by way of a gift to myself, -I succeeded in persuading the _Unteroffizier_ to purchase for me a -sketch-book and pencils, with which I amused myself and comrades -by a series of portrait studies of more or less veracity. One of -these my fellows in misfortune was a sculptor who had exhibited at -the R.A., and who now exhibited a photograph of one of his works--a -statue of Sappho--which he carried in his pocket. We two decided -to hang together--unless we were shot separately--as we had heard -amazing reports of ateliers to be secured in certain _Läger_ by humble -followers of the arts graphic and plastic. - -During all the days of our stay here, and precisely at four o’clock -of the afternoon, a bell tolled solemnly from the church under whose -shadow we lay. It was for the burial of German soldiers killed at -Cambrai. - -Early on a Sunday morning, while the stars still shivered in a frosty -sky, we set out to entrain for Carlsruhe, very optimistically with one -day’s rations in our pouches, and that a day’s rations which would have -shown meagre as the _hors-d’œuvre_ of an ordinary meal. We arrived at -Carlsruhe on the evening of Tuesday, and in the interim would probably -have succumbed to starvation for lack of food, if we had not been in a -state of suspended animation owing to the cold. - -[Illustration: A SCULPTOR.] - -Only one incident of that journey do I desire to recall. In the middle -of the night I awoke shiveringly from a fitful sleep to find that the -train had come to a stop in a large station. I glanced idly from the -window, and an arc lamp lit up a great signboard, on which was painted -in large ominous letters the one word--SEDAN. - -From Carlsruhe Station we passed through streets not uninteresting -architecturally, and without exciting undue curiosity or comment, until -we came to the Europäisches Hotel. This to famished men seemed to -suggest something at least of hopeful hospitalities, but, on entering, -the place was obviously as barren of festivity as a Government Board -room. We shall have food to eat at five o’clock. At five we wept that -it had not come; at six, at seven. We wept even more when at eight it -actually arrived. - -I observed then, and on subsequent occasions, that after a meal, myself -and Marsden (who, as befits a good sculptor, has fashioned for himself -a frame of fine proportion) were inclined to emerge from a more or less -languorous state and kick up our heels like young colts. - - -THE VULTURE - -We discovered that by climbing on to the frame of the iron bedstead, -and clutching perilously at the ventilating portion of the window in -our cell, we could just succeed in gaining a glimpse of the street. -To the right we seemed to be in the neighbourhood of a zoological -garden or an aviary of some dimension. The only inhabitant of the cages -visible to us, however, was a large vulture, which sat there day after -day, an unchanging picture of sullenness and stolidity. I wondered if -perchance it scented or visioned the red fields which lay not so many -miles away. - -And so the days passed. After considerable agitation I succeeded -in securing a few volumes of the Tauchnitz edition, amongst them -Stevenson’s “The Master of Ballantrae.” This possibly, however, induced -in me a greater home-sickness for Scotland than ever. - -[Illustration: THE UNTEROFFIZIER.] - -Finding a draught-board to our hand outlined upon the table, and making -counters of paper white and blue, we four prisoners on a day played for -the championship of the cell and a superadded stake of four thin slices -of bread. I won somewhat easily, being a Scotsman, and something of a -player as a boy; indeed, heaven forgive me! it was I who suggested the -game. As victor, however, I was seized with compassion and compunction, -so that, while I retained the title, I returned to each man his share -of that staff of life, on which, it has to be confessed, we were -having to lean somewhat heavily. - -At last came the order that we were to shift from the hotel to the -_Offizier kriegsgefangenenlager_. Whereupon, clapping my steel helmet -upon my head, and thrusting my uneaten morsel of bread into one of my -tunic pockets, I was ready for the road. - -[Illustration: CHRISTMAS DAY AT CARLSRUHE.] - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: ARRIVAL OF THE PARCEL CART.] - - - - -II LIFE AT CARLSRUHE LAGER - - -As we passed a sentry and turned in between high palisades heavily -fortified by barbed wire, I had a feeling of disappointment, if not of -dismay. I had hoped to live more closely to Nature, whereas Carlsruhe -Camp lay in a central part of the town, and was overlooked at almost -every point by high buildings, hotels, restaurants, and mansions. The -few trees were, of course, meantime bare of leaves, and there were no -traces of grass in the long stretches of court between the huts. - -In the _salon d’appel_ we were searched. My sketch-book was -scrutinized, critically, perhaps, but not uncharitably, and I was -permitted to keep it. Of what other poor possessions I now had, only my -signalling whistle was taken. - -Dinner that night consisted of soup, followed by _Sauerkraut_. -Breakfast next morning, in my case, consisted of a cold shower bath and -anticipations of lunch at midday! - -There was a little chapel at Carlsruhe used alternately and -harmoniously by English Churchmen, Roman Catholics, and Nonconformists. -While we awaited service on this first morning of my arrival there -was a distribution of biscuits--briquettes of bread really--which -were received from their Government by the French officer and orderly -prisoners at the rate of seventy per man per week; a plentitude which -permitted of the orderlies trading them among the less-favoured British -officers at anything from fifty pfennig to a mark each. - -[Illustration: THE CHAPEL AT CARLSRUHE.] - -On the present occasion, when the baskets had been carried away, a -few crumbs and sweepings of the biscuits were left upon the floor, -while we stood around with our backs to the wall and our hands in our -pockets. Presently one prisoner put forth an apparently accidental -foot, which covered probably the largest of the pieces. Then, somewhat -shamefacedly, he stooped and picked it up. Upon which signal, with one -accord, and with as close a resemblance to a flock of city sparrows as -anything I ever saw, we swooped down upon the fragments. For my share I -succeeded in securing two pieces of quite half an inch square! - -Those were indeed hungry days, when a man’s wealth was not to be -calculated by the amount standing to his credit at Messrs. Cox & Co.’s, -or even by the abundance of his blankets, but by the number of French -biscuits which he had succeeded in securing. Here of all places in the -world might one see a Brigadier-General crossing the square carefully -balancing a mess of pork and beans upon a plate, or nursing the -contents of a tin of sardines upon a saucer! - -To be invited to tea by a friendly and more flourishing mess was -the greatest beatitude that could befall a man. In these cases of -ceremonious call the guest always carried his own crockery and cutlery. - -[Illustration: COL. ALBERT TURANO, ARTIGLIERIA ITALIANO.] - -One such pleasant refection, with Col. Albert Turano, Artiglieria -Italiano, lingers very pleasantly in my memory. In view of his rank -the Colonel occupied alone a small chamber in one of the huts. On the -wall was a crucifix, and a few reproductions of religious paintings and -decorations by the Danish artist, Joakim Skovgaard. A shelf of Italian -books, a deal table, two stools, and an iron bedstead, with above it -a plant, to be unnamed by me, but which looked as if it might develop -into a tree, in a flower-pot so tiny that it seemed as if it might have -done service as a thimble. The Colonel prepared the coffee with great -care, and served it with much courtliness. The entire contents of his -larder consisted of a few fragments of hard French biscuits. These we -steeped in the coffee, and of this quite delectable sop partook with -much contentment. - -In talk we turned over the art treasures of Venice and Florence, and -when I referred to Dante, and particularly to the episode of Paolo and -Francesca, the Colonel produced from his breast pocket a little marked -copy of the “Divina Commedia,” in a chamois-leather case, which he -had carried through the campaign, and read me the passage in Italian. -Followed cigarettes, and a joint vow that if we foregathered in London -our dinner at the Trocadero would be completed by just such a cup of -coffee--_à la_ Carlsruhe! Some time later, while he was being changed -to another camp, the gallant Colonel succeeded in effecting his escape. - -In retrospect the menu at Carlsruhe seems to have consisted of -interminable plates of soup, followed by sauerkraut and anæmic -potatoes. No effort was made--nor was there any need--to stimulate our -appetites by surprise dishes or kickshaws; although on St. Patrick’s -Day a wild rumour went round the camp that we were to have boiled -shamrock for dinner! Some officers could achieve five plates of soup -at a meal; one could rarely venture to brave the day on less than -three. On Thursdays and Sundays there was a morsel of meat--the veriest -opening and immediate closing of the lid of the flesh pot, as it were. -On certain days, apples--for which we lined up in a queue--were to be -bought at the _Kantine_ at one mark per pound. Sardines cost five to -six marks a tin; other prices were in proportion. - - -FIRST LETTERS AND PARCELS - -The coming of one’s first letter was a memorable event in camp life. -The immediate impulse was to retire with it to the remotest corner of -the court--as a dog with a bone, or a lover with a _billet-doux_--and -there devour it, and for days after one was continually impelled to a -re-perusal. A Portuguese officer who had made a vow, Nazarite-wise, not -to shave or cut his hair until such time as news would come from the -far country, was three and a half months in camp before he received -his first letter. Then, amid loud laughter and cries of “_Barbier! -Barbier!_” he departed with the precious epistle in his hand, and later -in the day made his appearance, looking not unlike a shorn lamb! - -The arrival of the first parcel was an event of even more general -interest and import. If it were a clothing parcel it would contain -a change of raiment, as grateful and as welcome as the wedding -garment. If it were a food parcel it enabled you to extend pleasant -hospitalities in more necessitous directions--one of the privileges and -compensations of camp life. - -You pass your bread ration to the recently arrived officer who is your -neighbour at dinner. “Do you care to have this bread, old chap? I have -plenty.” He is an Australian, and there is considerably over six foot -of him to be fed. He gives a gulp and a gasp now. “My God,” he says, “I -thought I wasn’t to be able to say ‘Yes’ quick enough!” - -I received my first parcel after two months of captivity. One officer, -after the lapse of many barren moons, received twenty-six packets--an -entire waggon load--at one time! Give me neither poverty nor riches! - - -CHRISTMAS AT CARLSRUHE - -On Christmas Day, the Germans, if they could not give us peace on -earth, probably made effort at an expression of goodwill even to -_Gefangenen_! Dinner, at all events, consisted of soup, potatoes, an -ounce or two of meat, one pound of eating apples, and a quarter of a -litre of red wine--decidedly a red _litre_ day! Christmas trees were -raised and decorated in the _salon d’appel_; the Camp Commandant gave -gifts to all the orderlies; a raffle, organized by the French officers, -took place, when I was so fortunate as to secure a bar of chocolate, -and there was a further distribution of apples at night, the gifts of -La Croix Rouge, Geneva. I have probably not eaten on one day so many -apples of uncertain ripeness since last I robbed an orchard as a boy. - -In the chapel the Lieutenant--a layman--who customarily took the -Anglican services, read the hymn from Milton’s “Ode on the Morning of -Christ’s Nativity,” and several carols were sung. I may say that all -such services concluded with the lusty singing of a verse of “God Save -the King.” - -[Illustration: THE CAMP COMMANDANT.] - -Roll-call in the morning was at ten; in the evening at 8.45; lights out -at nine o’clock. I shared a hut with seven other officers, three of -them aviators, who had all, like Lucifer, son of the morning, fallen -to earth violently and from varying altitudes. On New Year’s Eve we -blanketed our windows, kept lights burning, and at midnight drank a -modest glass of port to the coming year. - -Our scale of dietary not conducing to exuberance of spirits, or urging -to violent exercises, most of the officers spent a considerable part of -these short winter days in reading or in card-playing. As unofficial -limner to the very cosmopolitan camp, my pencil was kept continually -sharpened in effort to capture the varying characteristics of some -seventeen different nationalities. - -One day I found the Commandant looking over my shoulder. He was keenly -interested, suggested that he might give me a sitting, and reverted -several times to the question of price. Finally I hinted that while I -could not dream of accepting monetary recompense, he could, if he cared -to be so complaisant, connive at my escape by way of part payment! - -No one, I believe, ever escaped from Carlsruhe Camp, though various -efforts were made by tunnelling. To make exit by a more direct method -three high palisades and barbed wire fences had to be scaled, and that -in almost certain view of numerous sentries without and within. Sitting -by the barbed wire in a remote part of the court, a _Posten_ outside -would open a little slit in the paling and turn upon me an eye which -was alone visible, rolling round watchfully, and with much of the -effect of the Eye Omnipotent with which we were awed in boyish days. - -We saw and heard little of the life of the surrounding town. Now and -then a housemaid would shake a cover or a cushion from a window in -one of the overlooking houses, or the _Hausfrau_ herself might gaze -gloomily forth. One night after we had retired to bed, and certainly at -an hour not far from midnight, we heard what appeared to be a quartette -of girls singing outside in the street. We flung open the windows and -listened with vast pleasure to a very beautiful rendering of what may -have been an Easter hymn; possibly a more pagan chant to the Goddess of -Love. - -[Illustration: A GAME OF CARDS.] - -Sometimes, of an afternoon, one would hear from the other side of the -palisade the sound of marching men--a sound as seemingly resolute and -relentless as the progression of Fate. Sometimes came the playful -and laughing cry of a little child. One day as I read and mused in -“Rotten Row,” two schoolboys, doubtless home for the week-end, and at -all events perched holiday-wise upon the roof of an hotel, made their -presence known to me in pleasant and friendly fashion by a cheerful -whistle. Having attracted my attention, they proceeded with true boyish -humour and with eloquent turnings of the head, to invite me to a -companionship upon the roof! - -On a June evening, walking with a French Commandant, and endeavouring -to recount to him in French one of the fables of La Fontaine, we were -brought to a pause by what was a wistful picture to us at one of -the overlooking windows--a father, a mother, and sweet little girl, -enjoying the quiet twilight hour together. The Commandant, when we had -resumed our walk--which we did whenever we were discovered--confided -to me that he had three boys, of ages gently graduated, and that the -youngest, Michael, was very sad because he had not seen his father for -so long a time. - -[Illustration: FUNERAL OF A PRISONER OF WAR] - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: A SERBIAN COLONEL.] - - - - -III FUNERAL OF A PRISONER OF WAR - - -One morning at roll-call the German N.C.O. all unwittingly called, -“Captain H----!” Then more insistently, “Captain H----!” And still -again. - -There was no reply. Captain H---- had died in hospital the night before -of pneumonia, contracted through exposure when his ship was torpedoed. - -I was appointed to represent our hut at the funeral. That morning, -immediately after breakfast, something of a stir was to be observed -about the camp, and presently the officers who had been elected to -attend the funeral began to assemble in front of the Commandant’s hut. - -Many of the uniforms presented considerable compromise; several of us, -myself included, who had been taken in shrapnel helmets and trench -equipment, having borrowed Sam Browne belts and aviators’ caps. The -Serbian Colonels, however, were decidedly _brave_, if slightly bizarre, -in their brand-new brown greatcoats, with crimson facings, lapels -and linings, their horned caps and general appearance conveying to -my mind a somewhat whimsical impression of armed, aggressive, and -mail-sheathed beetles. The Italian Major of mountain artillery was -there with a slanting feather in his cap, while the Commandant himself -was resplendently martial in his spiked helmet, with, for decoration, -the Iron Cross and, I think, l’Aigle Noir. - -Three or four great wreaths, sombre with fir branches and bay, -and bearing coloured streamers, are allocated among the various -nationalities represented, and forming up more or less in processional -order, the party, followed by the somewhat envious gaze of those who -remain behind, moves towards the gateway. Some of our number have not -been outside these gates for well-nigh a year; one officer, indeed, -has preferred to forego this opportunity of liberty for an hour or two -in order that he may achieve a complete year of incarceration in the -_Kriegsgefangenenlager_, his anniversary falling due in a few days. - -I myself have been captive in this camp for less than two months, yet I -feel a panting and palpitating as we wait for the guard to turn the key -in the gate; I seem to breathe more deeply when we have passed into the -street. In a word, as he moves among us, the senior British officer has -warned us that we are on parole. - -Two electric tram-cars, connected, await us, and we mount and take -our places. It is a cold morning, one of the coldest for some -months. A small crowd which has collected gazes silently and not -unsympathetically upon the scene. The group consists mostly of -children, going schoolward, and perhaps it is owing to the severe cold, -but their faces are pinched and thin. It moves me mightily to imagine -that we are in any sense of the word at war with these little ones. - -As the car speeds through the streets we rub the frost from the panes -and gaze out upon the world like a batch of schoolboys on an excursion. -Old Maier, the German orderly, indeed, takes particular pains to point -out to us places and objects of interest as we pass; the _Stadthaus_; -the monument to the Margrave Charles William, founder of the city, -which encloses his dust; the various churches. The architecture is -interesting, although, as I understand, we are moving through the least -opulent parts of Carlsruhe. - -On the outskirts of the town the cars stop in front of a church, where -is drawn up a German guard of over a hundred, with a brass band, and -a firing-party of fifty men. We file into the chapel, and the wreaths -are laid upon the black coffin, which rests under the shadow of a great -cross with a bronze Christ. This, and a painting of a miracle of -healing, are the only adornments of an interior which is dignified and -harmoniously coloured in greys and greens. - -“That is the General of the district with the Commandant,” whispers -Maier in my ear. - -The service is brief and simple. The Lutheran pastor, in black cap -and white bands, delivers a short address, reads a few passages from -the Scriptures, and engages in prayer. Then the bearers take up their -bitter burden and pass down the aisle. One green wreath lies on top of -the coffin; it falls off, and I stoop down and replace it. As we reach -the door Maier is once more at my ear. “That wreath is from the Grand -Duchess of Baden!” - -As we pass down the steps the band is playing somewhere in front, -softly and sorrowfully, then there is a few minutes’ silence while the -procession passes into the avenue leading to the cemetery. Here and -there are a few desolate-looking civilians. Now comes the sound of -drums; something between a distant thunder-roll and the heavy dropping -of rain in a thunder shower. Chopin’s “Marche Funèbre.” I have never -heard it played in a more fitting environment. The dark-grey body of -German soldiery winds among the trees, which throw up gaunt, leafless -branches agonizingly against a dull grey sky. - -How illogical is war! I have seen a hundred men--as many as are here -assembled for the burial of one--huddled into what was practically one -common grave! Surely we are not come forth entirely to bury the dead -with ceremony; but to persuade ourselves, to prove as convincingly as -may be, that the ancient courtesies, the old kindlinesses, are not -entirely dead and buried! - -As the music passes into the lyric movement of the march I see -wistfulness in the faces of some of the veteran warriors; regretfulness -in the very stoop of their shoulders. There is something moving at all -times even in the formal and ceremonial grief of man; it is accentuated -when he is clothed in the full panoply of war. - -A short service over the grave, then the firing-party throw their three -volleys into the air, as if making noisy question as to the scheme of -things at the unanswering heavens. The brasses seem to make mournful -reply that no answer has indeed been vouchsafed. Then, the body being -lowered into the grave, each of us casts upon it three shovelfuls of -earth, making the sign of the Cross or saluting the military dead -according to our creed and conception. And so we leave the poor dust, -till it be disturbed by music more insistent and clamorous than the -clarions of men! - -[Illustration: THE CATHOLIC PRIEST.] - -A French soldier who has died in hospital is also being interred, -and, though it is bitterly cold, we all wait until the cortège has -arrived, and the burial service--in this case performed by the -Catholic priest--has been carried out. As we return through the -avenue we overtake the sad, solitary figure of a widow in sombre -black leading a boy of six or seven by the hand. Both figures are -suggestive of refinement, both faces are pale, and that of the mother -is grief-stricken. As we pass I am so near that I almost brush them. -I turn and look back at the boy, whose face is full of beauty. The -insistent gaze of an enemy officer seems to frighten him, and he -shrinks closer to his mother’s side. - - -A LECTURE ON ABYSSINIA - -[Illustration: THE REV. MR. FLAD.] - -The Rev. Father Daniels, the Roman Catholic priest to whom I have -referred, made regular visitation to the camp, and we had, furthermore, -occasional ministration from a Protestant divine, the Rev. Mr. Flad. -This gentleman appeared in our midst with great suddenness one morning, -and there was much ado to beat up a creditable congregation for him. -This ultimately being forthcoming, and at the moment when the pastor -was inviting us to accompany him with a pure heart to the Throne of -Heavenly Grace entered Hans with an urgent and whispered message, which -turned out to be an invitation to lunch from the Grand Duchess of -Baden. The summons left the good padre obviously preoccupied during -the service, and necessitated a postponement of the Communion until the -afternoon. This led to a suggestion that the pastor might lecture us in -the evening on his experiences in Abyssinia. - -The father of Mr. Flad was a missionary in Abyssinia during the reign -of King Theodore. His mother, a friend of Florence Nightingale, was -a deaconess in the Church. When trouble arose between the King and -the British Government--through the ignoring of the former’s letter -suggesting a latter-day crusade for the liberation of the Holy Land -from the Turks--Flad senior and fifty-eight other Europeans were -imprisoned, and many of them had to undergo the punishment of being -chained to a native soldier for four and a half years. - -The native soldier, it is a relief to learn, was changed every week--a -transaction which one can imagine as being welcome as a change of linen! - -Ultimately Flad was despatched as Ambassador from King Theodore to -Queen Victoria, with whom he had two interviews at Osborne, his wife -being meanwhile held as hostage for his return. “I have here your two -eyes and your heart,” said King Theodore. - -During these difficult and dangerous years Mrs. Flad kept a diary, -which was published, but which is now out of print. With the coming of -Lord Napier the prisoners were released, and King Theodore came to a -tragic end by his own hand. The pastor is hopeful of some day taking up -his father’s work and he passed round a book printed in Geëz, I take -it, a page of which he reads every day. His father used to tell him how -in the native cafés he had heard discussion as to whether the Queen of -Sheba who visited King Solomon was ruler of Abyssinia or Arabia. - -One need not be in Abyssinia to be chained to a black mood at least, -if not a black man. Sitting in the court at Carlsruhe, watching the -barbed wire shake and shiver like a man in an ague to the play of my -foot, I have been seized with a sudden fear of the horrors from which -I have emerged. This fear in retrospect, so to speak, was greater far -than anything I can confess to have felt in actuality; as if one who -had boldly and blindly crossed a profound abyss on a tight-rope should -faint or falter, grow dizzy and fall, having reached firm ground once -more; as if one had all the past still to pass through, and it were not -possible that one should safely pass through it. - -To me, on such an occasion, appeared my buoyant young Italian friend -Cotta, who, passing an arm through mine, haled me off for a glass of -the atrocious white wine of the country--or at least of the _Kantine_. -Thereafter we walked together in the Close, Cotta giving his English an -airing. - -“Yes, I speak English very well, very well. Have you see the donkey?” - -The little donkey, which, yoked to a little waggon, brings us on most -days a load of parcels, and which has become so friendly to an alien -officer that even in charge of a somewhat obdurate driver it will make -a sudden detour from its course in order to shove its muzzle into my -hand, was grazing in the circular grass plot in the centre of the -square. - -“It is the better German in the camp!” says Cotta. “Ah, I am very sad, -very sad,” he proceeds. “I have no letter from my girl, and the Germans -have take from me her photograph. Damn! damn!” - -[Illustration: AN ITALIAN MAJOR OF MOUNTAIN ARTILLERY.] - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: PLAYBILL FOR LADY GREGORY’S “THE RISING OF THE MOON”] - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: OUR ORCHESTRA.] - - - - -IV ENTERTAINMENT IN EXILE - - -Man cannot live by bread alone--nor may he, even with a supplementary -basin of soup! Immediately after dinner on the Saturday evening of my -arrival in Carlsruhe, a steady stream of officers set in towards the -_salon d’appel_. Being still without chart or compass as regards the -camp, I also drifted in this direction, and found that at the far end -of the hall a stage was erected, and that a cosmopolitan audience was -already gathered in the expectant dusk of the auditorium. A few rows of -forms from the court served as dress circle and stalls; later arrivals -brought their own chairs or stools from the dormitories; standing in -the background, the orderlies, obviously washed of their week’s labours -in the kitchen or the camp, were the gods, and from their Olympus gave -occasional encouragement, or passed comment and criticism upon the -performance. - -On this particular evening, together with various musical and vocal -efforts, there was a very capable representation by a cast of French -officers, of Max Maurey’s comedy in one act, “Asile de Nuit.” Prior -to the enactment, and for the benefit of those in the audience who -might be innocent of French, a British officer gave out the _motif_ in -English. - -As I sat contentedly in my place--the burden of the wearinesses of the -last weeks fallen from my shoulders--it was borne in upon me that much -of the success of a play is in the eager and receptive mood of the -audience; also that in the naïve freshness of an amateur performance -is a charm which has too frequently perished in the more finished -production of the professional actor. At all events, in “Asile de -Nuit”--the “Night Refuge”--I found indeed refuge for the night! - -Monsieur the Superintendent of an--uncharitable--institution, is -pompous, proud, and overbearing, particularly to his unwelcome clients. -It is just on the closing hour of nine, and he is preparing to depart -for the business of his favourite café, when one of these waifs blows -in. Monsieur storms at the tramp for the lateness of the hour, for the -ludicrousness of his name, for anything and everything, and ultimately, -after passing him over to a brow-beaten assistant for the condign -punishment of a bath, goes off himself for a beer. - -He returns almost immediately, quite chapfallen. He has learned that -the Superintendent of another “Refuge” has been dismissed for failing -to entertain an angel unawares in the person of a disguised journalist. -He is persuaded that the piece of ragged illiteracy which he himself -is harbouring is a pen also charged and pointed for his undoing. -Consequently the amazed vagrant is overwhelmed with clothing from the -Superintendent’s own wardrobe, cigars from his private cabinet; he is -even finally permitted to escape the last indignity of ablution! - -[Illustration: A CARLSRUHE CONCERT PROGRAMME.] - -Into the service of the theatre I immediately found myself intrigued -and impressed, in the somewhat composite character of scene-painter, -scene-shifter, poster-artist, actor, prompter, “noises-off,” and -playwright. My first essay in this latter capacity was entitled “A -Chelsea Christmas Eve,” the scene being a studio, embellished with -sundry artistic audacities--nudes and nocturnes, post-impressionisms -and cubisms--and from the cardboard window of which was a view of the -Thames, including the Tower Bridge!--there entirely for economical -reasons, and not geographic. - -[Illustration: “A CHELSEA CHRISTMAS EVE,” AS PLAYED AT CARLSRUHE LAGER] - -So pleasant, nevertheless, was this little make-believe interior that -we rarely entered for a rehearsal without discovering and disturbing -sundry reading animals who had crept into it as a quiet and congenial -environment, and who frequently and regretfully suggested that it would -be desirable as a permanency. During the performance the on-coming of -a monstrous and realistic pie, built--not baked--in a wash-hand basin, -filled with boiling water, and covered with a richly-coloured cardboard -crust, was nearly provocative of an assault upon the stage by a hungry -and overwrought audience! - -Another dramatic effort, devised for the bringing on to the stage of my -good friends--and the good friends of all the camp--Bertolotti, Calvi -the pianist, and Lazarri the sweet singer, was “An Italian Vignette.” -The scenery, which was painted on paper readily reversible, so that -one could very literally have “a prison and a palace” on each side, -I evolved from pleasant if somewhat untrustworthy recollection of a -fortnight’s stay in Venice many years ago. - -_There is a glorious city in the sea._ - -_The sea is in the broad, the narrow streets_--and that after such -sort as proved somewhat disconcerting to the two Venetians present in -camp. Owing to the circumscriptions of the stage the scene was more -suggestive than realistic, the gondola, instead of entering from below -the Ponte dei Sospiri, swimming in a canal running parallel with the -Bridge of--Sighs--but of no dimensions! - -As regards dresses, it was possible to hire through “Hans,” the German -orderly, one evening dress suit, one blue ditto, one odd pair of -quite unmentionable “unmentionables,” and one Homburg hat. To prevent -effort at escape these garments had to be returned to the authorities -immediately after each performance. Nothing in anywise approximating -to a garb mediæval being obtainable, each man--and “woman”--must dress -the part to the best of possibilities. - -Clelia (Lieut. Smith), for example, of whom I, as Marco, was supposed -to be enamoured, trusted to hide his identity--particularly as -disclosed by his feet--in a few yards of chintz, rather unhappily of -identical pattern with the stage curtain! A cardigan jacket, frilled -and ruffled with an edging of white linen torn from a frayed pocket -handkerchief, made a quite presentable doublet for me. Toulon, the -French orderly’s _béret_, turned up at the corners, and bearing red -plumes, held in place by a shining tin pipe-top, served as headgear. -The lid of a boric ointment box suspended from my black lanyard formed -a distinguished-looking decoration of merit; the tasselled cord of a -dressing-gown made an admirable sword-belt. - -An Italian military mantle completed my costume. A mandolin--an -instrument of torture to be dreaded above all others, but which -musically was mute in the piece, and pictorially represented a -guitar--was borrowed from an orderly. - -In passages where “A Venetian Vignette” did not awe the audience it -at least amused it. Owing to an eleventh-hour timidity on the part -of two of our Italians I had to touch the light guitar and raise my -voice in apparent song, while off, Lieut. Calvi, with piano muted with -newspapers, and Lieut. Lazarri, with distended larynx, supplied the -actualities, and this with such success that the many new-comers among -the audience, knowing neither Joseph nor Lazarri, were deceived, and I -received a very ill-deserved ovation for Toselli’s “Serenade.” - -[Illustration: SCENE FROM “A VENETIAN VIGNETTE”] - -The Portuguese Captain Teixeira, who had wonderful imitative faculties, -so that twice I have seen him hypnotize young birds to within a few -inches of his hand, as a nightingale “off,” “trilled with all the -passion of all the love songs that have been sung since the world -began”--an interpolation made by the dramatist in his dialogue to -permit of an effect so original! “Noises off” tolled the bell--the -great kitchen poker--which was intended to warn the lovers of the -fleet passage of the hour, just about five minutes behind time, making -his thus tardy entry on the principle that nothing be lost. - -Lieut. H., who had taken part in bull-fighting in Southern America, -gave me the _coup de grâce_ in his own fashion, between the shoulder -blades, and, judging by the force, with a momentary forgetting of the -fact that he was only in Southern Germany. With a “Mio Dio! Io sono -morto!” for the sake of local colouring, I and the curtain fell almost -simultaneously. - -“The Secret: A Shudder in 3 Scenes,” was probably most memorable -from the secret fact that it secured me a few inches of forbidden -candle, which I used in surreptitious reading after “lights out” -for some nights after. “The Brigand: a Musical Absurdity,” written -by a versatile Roman Catholic padre, was apparently sufficiently -realistic to procure me the first visit next morning from an officer -in the audience who had lost his watch! Unrehearsed effects in -this performance were the igniting of the cardboard brazier by the -toppling over of the candle set within to illuminate it; the rolling -across the stage of an empty and otherwise rather suspicious looking -bottle, and the violent antipathies evidenced by “Bobby,” a French -officer’s adopted fox-terrier, which I had to keep at bay with my -double-barrelled cardboard blunderbuss. - -[Illustration: A CARLSRUHE PLAY-BILL.] - -Emerging from the hall within a few minutes of roll-call and with our -faces masked by the vigorous colourations of our brigandage “under the -greenwood tree,” we discovered to our dismay that the water supply had -been cut off. For days afterwards my knees had a brownness unknown to -them since I discarded the Black Watch kilt. - -[Illustration: POSTER FOR A FRENCH PLAY.] - -A very creditable performance was given of Bernard Shaw’s one-act play, -“How He Lied to Her Husband”; Oscar Wilde’s “The Importance of Being -Earnest,” abridged to one act, was essayed with great earnestness. The -French players gave us some very adroit performances, particularly of -such comedies as Labiche’s “J’invite le Colonel.” - -One day there arrived in camp Lieut. Martin, late of the Abbey Theatre, -Dublin, a little Irishman with a big brogue, a fund of humour and of -its concomitant, good humour, and a budget of news of literary import, -as that W. B. Yeats was married, and that G. B. S. had taken his place -at the theatre. - -It was suggested to Martin that we might stage one of the Irish plays. -He had had copies of a number of these in his valise when he was -captured, but, of course, these were lost. He was able ultimately, -however, to write out from memory Lady Gregory’s “The Rising of the -Moon,” and for my guidance he gave me a little paper model of the -staging as designed originally, I imagine, by Jack Yeats. For the -performance the German authorities lent us a huge beer barrel--entirely -empty. The cast was an all-Irish one, Lieut.-Colonel Lord Farnham -playing the part of Sergeant of the R.I.C., Lieut. Martin playing the -supposed ballad-singer. - -A week later, when Martin departed for another camp, he slipped into my -hand a scrap of paper bearing a scrap of philosophy from “The Rising -of the Moon”: “’Tis a quare world, and ’tis little any mother knows -when she sees her child creepin’ on the floor what’ll happen to it, or -who’ll be who in the end.” - -Well, I hope that I may yet chance across the humoursome little -Irishman once more before the final--setting of the sun! - - -“THE HOMELAND” - -While we were thus making effort to entertain ourselves within the -camp, outside in the Fest Theatre in Carlsruhe there was a performance, -for the benefit of the Eighth War Loan, of “The Homeland,” a war vision -by Leo Sternburg. A translation of this appeared in the _Continental -Times_, a ridiculous and half-illiterate propaganda sheet which we -could receive thrice weekly at a cost of 2.70 marks per month. - -The scene is the battlefield. Ahasuerus, the Wandering Jew, moves amid -the dead men that lie about. The dawn is coming up the skies. Soldiers -of the Medical Corps carry stretchers to and fro. Occasionally the -mutter of the distant battle rolls over the scene. - -The Wandering Jew laments that he has been unable to find extinction -even in this welter of the world war. A dying soldier greets him as a -messenger from the Homeland: - -Give me your hand--that hand from home. They have not left me to die -alone in a strange land. They have sent me greetings. - -AHASUERUS: No, no! - -SOLDIER: Your hand---- - -AHASUERUS: You have it. It is well. The most homeless of men stands -before thee--he is as homeless as thou. - -SOLDIER: As I! I who die for home--I homeless! - -AHASUERUS: Thou art in error. The homeland would not die for _thee_. - -The Wandering Jew goes on to speak of apathy among the people, and -reminds the soldier that “not only arms win victories to-day. The -war of all men against all men has been unloosed. War against the -woman and the child. War against fields and forests and farm and -house. Peaceful labour turns to battle. The metal of the church bells -fights. The seed fights as it falls into the furrow. Money marches in -ranks.... But ... men eat and sleep and wax fat. They hear of the death -of millions, and say: ‘Yes, yes.’ Gods that descend before their very -eyes, and the wonders of a heroism half divine, no longer move their -senses--no sacrifice can stir them out of their daily rut. They have -but one care to trouble them--it is that you might return greater than -when you set forth.” - -SOLDIER (emphatically, to the men of the Medical Corps): Away! away! -I would die of life and not of death.... Let me lie down beside mine -enemy, he that hath endured what I have endured, he, as a comrade that -understands me. - -AHASUERUS: Come, thou mayst deem thyself blest in that thou diest so -that thou mayst not behold a race of lesser men. Ye have grown beyond -human compass in the fires of your time, your heads would strike the -ceilings in your little chambers. - -Ultimately, however, new troops enter, and one of these gives -reassurance to the dying man. - -SECOND SOLDIER: Property hath converted itself into armies, and the joy -of riches means only the capacity to give.... Coffers and chests fly -open. Countesses bring their silver, the legacy of famous ancestors, -the old maid-servant her hoarded wage. The widow gives up her golden -chain, the last love gift of her dead mate; the merchant his gains, -and the old peasants the walnut tree in whose shadow they played as -children.... The whole land becomes a mighty armoury ... they hammer, -hammer, hammer, day and night. - -DYING SOLDIER: Do you not hear the thunder of Wieland’s hammer? The -ringing armour of the Valkyries? Do you not hear the hoof-beats of -their stallions? - -SECOND SOLDIER: Yea, rivers and fields, mountains and woods dream -anew their German dreams.... Silently the women offer up their -beauty ... the park of roses becomes the potato patch. The savant is -his own servant. The mother can no longer mother her child. Work puts -out the torch of love ... but all bear this ... they bear it for the -sake of the blood which flowed for their sake. - -SOLDIER: I die ... I die happy. - -[_He dies._] - -AHASUERUS: O Fate! This moment outweighs all my two thousand years of -torment. I am reconciled with my sorrow, in that the centuries have -spared me to behold the mighty heroism of this people. - -[_Curtain._] - -[Illustration: ONE OF OUR ORCHESTRA.] - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: ENGINEER OF THE “HITACHI MARU.”] - - - - -V VICTIMS OF THE “WOLF” - - -Carlsruhe _Kriegsgefangenenlager_ being what was known as a -Distribution Camp, there was a continual coming and going of officers. -Here we had no continuing city. An occasional prisoner might linger -on--as if entirely overlooked and forgotten--for a year or even two; -in the majority of cases, however, the stay only extended for a few -weeks, sometimes merely a few days. On three consecutive weeks the cast -for one of our plays was removed almost _en bloc_. Friendships were -formed overnight, to be violently disrupted by departure on the morrow. -In our little world was a complete epitome of life. - -One afternoon in early March there arrived in camp a cartload of trunks -and sea-chests bearing strange hieroglyphics, with a rumour that these -would be followed by the officers of various nationality, including -Japanese, captured from the ships sunk by the notorious German cruiser -_Wolf_. - -Two days later they arrived, sailormen from the seven seas, British, -American, Australian, Scandinavian, so that the next morning their -blue suits and brown boots gave the _salon d’appel_ the appearance -of a mercantile marine office when a crew is signing on. Some of the -Captains, grizzled and weather-beaten, had an easy gait, a quiet laying -down of the foot, which inevitably suggested the bridge or the moving -decks of ships; different entirely from the more formal military -stride. Some of them were doubtless glad to stretch their legs, having -been cruising in the piratical _Wolf_ for a year or fifteen months. - -The Japanese officers made me very heartily welcome to their hut, on -a shelf in which I noticed immediately on my entry a little statue of -Buddha. While I sketched some of these placid, not readily fathomable -faces, I heard, in broken English, the tragic story of the broken life -of their Captain, the Commander of the _Hitachi Maru_. - -The Captain had intended suicide from the time he lost his -vessel--thirteen of her crew were killed in the fight--and simply -awaited his opportunity. This came to him in the darkness and amid -the floes of Iceland, when the _Wolf_, with fangs red with blood, was -running back for Kiel. - -Engineer Lieut.-Commander K. Shiraishi, of the Imperial Japanese Navy, -is speaking, his immobile face--so that I may complete my sketch--as -rigid as that of the little Buddha which I can see behind him. He -has shared a berth with the Captain, and tells me that on the night -of his disappearance he left the cabin, “and he come not back.” He -had slipped quietly overboard--“in the dark and among the ice”--thus -embarking on a final voyage, new and strange. - -“All night we hear the ice grinding past the ship,” said my -Lieut.-Commander, without the flicker of an eyelid. “In the dark--and -among the ice!” - -Returning to my hut, by a literary coincidence not uncommon, I opened -Joseph Conrad, and read in “Il Conde”: “He put the tip of his finger -on a spot close under his breast-bone, the very spot of the human body -where a Japanese gentleman begins the operation of the Harakiri, which -is a form of suicide following upon dishonour, upon an intolerable -outrage to the delicacy of one’s feelings.” - -Captain Meadows, of the _Tarantella_, the first steamer sunk by the -_Wolf_, was a man of Herculean build, and quite apparently, and as -befitted the skipper of a ship named as his was, he had led the German -Commander something of a dance. Every morning, until he was caught in -the act, the Captain used to empty the water from his bath into the -sea, and with it a bottle giving the bearings of the _Wolf_, and some -account of her depredations. Even when the time came that two or three -German sailors flung themselves suddenly upon him, he succeeded in -“mailing his letter,” and when he received a vehement reprimand he made -retort that if the Commander thought it necessary to shout even louder -he might use his megaphone! - -[Illustration: CAPTAIN OF THE “TARANTELLA.”] - -The _Wolf_ apparently employed a hydroplane with great effect in -locating her prey, and in evading capture. The Captain of the _Matunga_ -showed me a snapshot--from which I made a sketch--of the last moments -of his sinking ship. - - -CLINGING TO OFFICE - -However unwillingly officers may have come to Carlsruhe, there was -always a certain loathness to leave for another camp, on the -principle, doubtless, that it is better to “bear those ills we have, -than fly to others that we know not of.” There was something hugely -diverting in the tenacity with which prisoners clung to whatever shred -of office or appointment they could lay claim to. The members of the -Cabinet cannot be more reluctant to leave hold of their portfolios than -were the _Gefangenen_ to pack up their portmanteaux. - -[Illustration: A SERBIAN OFFICER PRISONER OF WAR] - -One officer was Secretary for the English section; another was -Assistant Secretary, while there were a number of Committeemen whose -labours were not over-arduous. Two or three of us attended to the -distribution of food to the needy; two or three to the doling out of -clothing to the nude. Then there were the masters of music; pianists, -violinists, and at least one ’cellist; the dramatic entertainers -under the “O.C. Theatres”; and a group of choristers who in chapel -every Sunday evening at evensong did lustily raise their voices in -“Magnificat” and “Nunc Dimittis”; partly, it must be confessed, that -the Lord might let His servants _remain_ in peace! - -[Illustration: A REHEARSAL.] - -A Debating Society was formed, whose primary object, when the secrets -of men’s hearts are laid bare, will probably prove to have been the -providing of permanencies for the President and the Secretary. At these -meetings, by the way, we gravely discussed problems so original as the -Reconstitution of the Lords; the Influence of the Press; Classical or -Modern Education in Public Schools; and with equal gravity on a more -irresponsible evening the profound question, “Should bald heads be -buttered?” To the best of my recollection we arrived at the conclusion -that they should at least be boiled. - -A French Captain, who in civil life was a wine merchant, gave a lecture -on the wines and vineyards of France, the designing of a series of -drawings and maps illustrative of which permitted me to pass out of my -captivity for a spell, and wander in the pleasant region of the Gironde. - -These were our only feasible ways of escape at Carlsruhe. A bird might -flutter past the window of my chamber with a sharp little flight of -song. At once I was out and away with it, not necessarily to the -magnificences and splendours, but perhaps to almost penurious patches -and spaces on the outskirts of the dour old town of my nativity, where -pavement and grass-plot touch, and where, amid the lamp-posts and -the telegraph poles, there are familiar trees to be recognized and -loved--where, indeed, one may lift to the lips and kiss the hem of -Nature’s somewhat bedraggled skirt. And still--“You can’t get out!” -said the starling. - -One morning, lying alongside him in my cot, I remarked to a -fellow-prisoner, “You look very happy.” To which, being well versed -in the Scriptures, he immediately retorted, “I am happy in all things -_saving these bonds_!” - -It is not good for man to be alone, but doubtless _Gefangenen_ had a -little too much of the gregarious--one felt a recurring need for some -seclusion deeper than the common captivity. Such a place of retirement -I ultimately discovered, not in the chapel, but in the more mundane -environment of our tiny theatre, crawling mouse-like into a crevice -between one of the sidewings and the wall. Here I was safe from even -those who made their casual entrances and exits. Here also could I -read to the plaintive accompaniment of M. Calvi’s violin busy on a -Vieuxtemps “Air Varié,” or of M. Lazarri rehearsing a vocal number -for Saturday evening’s concert--could indeed afford time to cheer and -encourage these kindly artistes at the close of each piece by muffled -applause from a hidden but not entirely anonymous audience. - -At one corner of my narrow cell was a portion of a window giving on -to the quadrangle, so that by raising an occasional eye I could see -how our little world was wagging. To the rear was part of a set scene -showing a lurid and blood-red sun setting over the waters, even in -which primitive art there was the suggestion of many sunsets that I -have seen; many that I yet hope to see. - - -A STRAINING OF THE ENTENTE - -Even in this quiet retreat, however, one could not count on being -entirely free from faction and fight. On an otherwise quiet Sunday -afternoon, an English aviator at the piano and a French officer with a -violin have fallen into feud over a matter of musical precedence, and -within a few feet of each other are playing at the same time entirely -different tunes, and that with vehemence and vindictiveness. The -pianist, firmly planted on the piano stool, where he has spent most of -the day, passes without pause or punctuation from Chopin to ragtime and -from ragtime to absolute incoherence. - -The Frenchman sits on a form with his back to the wall--literally and -metaphorically--and vents his spleen on the catgut. I stand it for full -fifteen minutes by my watch, and then, going quietly into the empty -chapel and leaving the door sufficiently ajar, I open the organ, pull -out all the stops, brace my knees against the swell pedals, and so -burst into a sort of Grand Chœur in G. - -When I emerged the Frenchman had fled and calm was once more settling -upon the piano keys. Blessed are the peacemakers! - -Our piano was ultimately a “baby” grand, though its tone was less -infantile than suggestive of that of an old roué. Indeed, there was -little grand about it, except that there was so little “upright.” - -Early next morning I discovered the French violinist in the court -taking a variety of exercise, running, circling on the horizontal bar, -and jumping over the forms and seats, in an effort doubtless to keep -the muscles and sinews of his body as taut as his fiddle-strings. - - -A “STIRRING TIME” - -There was one respect in which we could quite legitimately claim to be -having a stirring time in camp, and that was as regards our ceaseless -culinary operations. Recurrently as cook it was one’s duty to see that -the members of one’s mess did not perish of starvation, surfeit, or -ptomaine poisoning. Frequently with inadequate means as regards fuel, -so that I have suggested to an officer endeavouring to thaw tinned -sausage over burning paper that he might try Thermogene! Personally I -achieved something of repute--or disrepute--for two dishes of my own -contriving, one a mock Scottish haggis, and the other what I am afraid -was little more than a mockery of English plum-pudding. - -It was through no reflection on our cooking, however, but simply for -the reduction of a steadily increasing _embonpoint_ that one of our -number undertook a voluntary five days’ fast. Besides being under -ordinary conditions extremely good-natured by day, X had a mirthful -habit of laughing in his sleep, the only case in a considerable -experience of somnambulistic phenomena among soldiers during the war -which I have yet encountered. - -In the early hours of the final morning of his fast he indeed laughed, -but in a minor key, just a ghost of a guffaw, with a very apparent and -pathetic tendency to merge into a sob. That morning he finished his -fast and his breakfast almost simultaneously. In order that he should -break the glad tidings gently, so to speak, to his famished and clamant -stomach, we had specially reserved for him a tin of rice and milk, very -happily designated “Amity.” This was followed up later in the day by a -handful of stewed prunes, and he was soon once more in his right mind, -if not so essentially clothed upon. He had, in fact, dropped just about -one stone in weight in these five days of fasting. - -There was a suggestion that after the war some of us would be qualified -to publish a cookery book: “Mrs. Beeton Beaten!” - -[Illustration: TWICE WOUNDED] - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: ORDERLY HANET--“LE PÈRE NOËL.”] - - - - -VI AIR RAIDS AND OTHER ACTIVITIES - - -Carlsruhe _Lager_ was located on the spot where a hundred people, -mostly women and children, were killed during an air raid on Corpus -Christi Day, 1916. A few days before the second anniversary our mess -was at tea in the hut, when Father Daniels, the German priest, arrived -in search of the Roman Catholic padre, and partook of a cup. Our talk -was of raids, of which there had been a succession, and of _the_ air -raid in particular. - -“It happened,” said Father Daniels, “just outside the window of this -hut; there, where the pole is.” The pole is only a few feet away. It -is used as a bumble-puppy pole now. The trees around still bear marks -of the explosion; pieces of shell and shrapnel embedded in the stems. -There was no Corpus Christi procession, however, as so often claimed; -simply a crowding for admission into a circus and menagerie. Old Maier, -the German _Lazarette_ orderly, had a son wounded that day. - -Carlsruhe and Mannheim both suffered heavily from our aircraft during -the period of my captivity. In one week there were eight raids--one -every day and two on Sundays, so to speak. In the early hours of the -morning we would awaken to the melancholy music of the warning sirens, -and, getting out of bed and into slippers, would find all the heavens -intersected by searchlights. - -Soon the shrapnel would begin to fall heavily into the courtyard, the -pieces striking the ground and the roofs of our huts very viciously. In -the morning we could usually pick up a large amount of shrapnel, some -of the ragged shreds being almost a foot in length. During the night -the sounding of the air-raid warning signal was customarily greeted -by ironical cheers from the Allied prisoners; during a day attack we -would stand out in the court and watch proceedings, although, with a -commendable anxiety for our safety, the German authorities would urge -us to take cover. - -One such air raid took place about nine o’clock on the morning of -the 31st May, the day after the festival of Corpus Christi. An -arrangement had been arrived at between the belligerents, I understand, -that no bombing should take place on that day, but, in their usual -absent-minded fashion, the Germans had committed a misdemeanour. So -here were our boys over first thing with a gentle reminder. This -consisted of ten bombs--a sort of decalogue of imperative “thou shalt -nots”--several of which fell quite near to the camp. Heavy damage -was done, and there were a considerable number of casualties among -the civilians. We were so unhappy, however, as to witness one of our -’planes brought down in combat, and later we learned that a second -machine had fallen. - -[Illustration: FUNERAL OF TWO BRITISH AVIATORS] - -This last fell into a marsh, and neither the craft nor the crew were -recovered. The other two men, however, were buried the following -afternoon. Besides representation from all the other nationalities -in camp, the funeral party included twelve British officers. After -selection of the aviator officer prisoners and the senior ranks five -places were still available, and these we balloted for. I drew a blank, -but R., successful, was not too keen about going, and I secured a gift -of his place, helping him to a decision, if truth must be told, by a -little present of two tins, each containing one hundred cigarettes! - -This was my second time outside the gates during the whole of my seven -months’ captivity at Carlsruhe. The journey was the same as before, -though now was visible the whole wondrous work of Nature in these last -few months of spring and early summer. In church I sat in the second -row immediately behind General von Rinck, and could not help observing -how his grey hair and his grey, deeply-engraven face, harmonized and -were at one with the field-grey of his uniform, but that in that -face there was no note of answering colour to the red facings of his -tunic, or to the finely-arranged ribbons of his many decorations and -distinctions. - -The service was similar to the former, and throughout the brief time -that it lasted the sides of the two black wooden boxes which lay before -the altar, a wreath at the foot of each, appeared to fall asunder, and -I seemed to see clearly the poor mangled bodies which were therein. The -same impressive music as we passed from the church and up the avenue to -the cemetery; the same word of command to the firing-party; the same -volleys fired upward into futility; the same tribute paid by each of -us, a spadeful of dust--to what would soon be but a spadeful of dust. -There is little variation in Death, or in the ceremonies by which we -endeavour to disguise from ourselves his distressing and disturbing -realisms. Being Saturday, there were many civilians in the cemetery, -staid old men who seemed to have come in from the country; students and -schoolboys standing at the salute; women weeping at the burial of the -dead who have caused their dead! - -A few days later the civilians, mostly factory girls, killed in the air -raid were buried, but we neither heard nor saw any evidences of the -funeral. The German _communiqué_ read: “Shortly after 9 a.m. an attack -ensued on the open town of Carlsruhe. Ten or twelve bombs were dropped, -which fell, partly in open country, partly in gardens. Some damage to -houses caused. Unfortunately, four people fell victims to the attack; -six others were badly hurt, partly from their own fault. At 9.45 the -alarm was over.” - -And--the four aviators and the four civilians were lying very quiet! - - -AN INIMITABLE IMITATOR - -Sometimes, after “lights out,” a warning siren would be blown in camp, -which, to the initiated, simply made warning that Captain Teixeira, -our inimitable imitator, had been induced good-naturedly to give a -performance. Then might be heard the Captain sawing his way to freedom, -to the bringing in of the disconcerted guard. Followed imitation of all -the fowls in the farmyard, and all the feathers in the forest, or, most -humorous of all, “an infant crying in the night, and with no language -but a cry.” Perhaps I would suggest twins, whereat the Captain, who -is a family man, would revert to poultry, and give an imitation of an -exultant hen, whose cackling we found none the less realistic in that -we have a tin of “eggs and bacon” under way for to-morrow’s breakfast. - -[Illustration: CAPTAIN TEIXEIRA.] - -Captain Teixeira could not only imitate the song of birds. He was a -singer himself. Among many other manifestations of friendship, he -gave me a set of improvisations, “Songs from Coimbra”--Coimbra, a -University town and capital of the Portuguese province of Beira, giving -its name to that school of poetry which had inception in 1848 with -the publication of “O Trovador.” I have made effort to convert these -“Cantares” into English verse: - - I - - Let my coffin be - Of shape strange and bizarre-- - The shape of a heart, - The shape of a guitar! - - II - - If a man should be slain, - And a cross mark his rest, - He shall also have grave, - Little brown girl, in your breast! - - III - - There are caverns in my breast - As in the bottoms of the sea - Fashioned by tides of tears, - And sorrows surging in me. - - IV - - Some day when I die - O love, warm and rare, - In a shroud let me lie - Of your shadowy hair. - - -A GERMAN BOMBARDMENT - -One afternoon German aviators bombarded the camp--very harmlessly, -however--with broadsheets, and not with bombs. After an exciting race -and scrum I succeeded in securing a copy. It was in the form of a -child’s catechism, with as heading a quaint woodcut of a town on the -Rhine. It commenced: “Mother: My child, lovst thou thy Fatherland? -Son: Yes, mother, Yes, with my whole heart. Mother: Why lovst thou thy -Fatherland? Son: Because there was I cradled.” It ended with an appeal -for the Eighth War Loan. - -Although we had, of course, no access to English newspapers, the German -authorities permitted us to order the _Frankfurter Zeitung_ and the -_Berliner Tageblatt_, and from these the most imperative news was -translated and written up daily in a _communiqué_ book. During more -urgent periods _Extrablätter_ were posted up in the dining hut. Thus -news of the great German offensive in March, 1918 percolating into -camp caused us unutterable dullness and depression. Most of us seemed -absolutely helpless and hopeless in these dark days. - -“I love my country,” said Lieut. H---- chokingly. - -To make matters worse there was almost an entire clearance of the camp, -including many of the men who had added to the gaiety of such nations -as were here represented. Flags were flying, and in the distant streets -one could hear the sound of singing and cheering. Whether by chance, -however, or, as is possible, by more delicate design, none of the -banners, except the two official ones at the gate, were hung so high -in the surrounding houses as blatantly and jubilantly to overlook the -camp. In the case of the Russian peace, as in that with the Ukraine, -the flags were hung from the topmost stories; in the present instance -they were not hung above the level of the palisades, and were more -evidently intended for the man in the street. - - -THE BATH ATTENDANT - -The soldiers on sentry duty were rarely unfriendly, though they -were forbidden to have any intercourse with the prisoners. Certain -functionaries, however, we, of necessity, got to know more intimately. -Entering the bathing hut one morning, the attendant--a new man, -youthful, and of healthy and happy appearance; his predecessor was -the most morose and doubtless liverish of Germans--was reading a book -with a lurid cover giving an account of the U-boat campaign. He made -endeavour to hide the volume from my sight. I found that he had been a -sailor, and, among other English vessels, had served in the steamers of -the White Star Line. He was certainly decidedly at sea as to the duties -of his present office, his aim apparently being to give us a douche -with the cleansing properties of a hot and the tonic virtues of a cold -bath at one and the same time. All, however, in the happiest and most -friendly fashion. - -One morning he was in beaming, if somewhat bashful, mood, and confided -to me that he had been married the previous night; showed me his -ring, and ultimately a photograph of the blushing young bride--who, -it must be confessed, looked decidedly older and more experienced -than her mate. He further informed me that she had “_viel Geld_,” -while he--rolling up his sleeve, and demonstrating--had nothing but -his muscles. Perhaps it was owing to over-much happiness, but on that -morning he seemed quite unable to manipulate the various screws and -levers, so that we were quite chilled before the coming of the cold -douching. - - -OUR ORDERLIES - -Our orderlies, like ourselves, were of various nationality, but there -was a consensus of opinion that the genius of the French soldier seemed -to lie most in the direction of that office. I, at all events, was -fortunate in my Frenchmen. First was our faithful Gustav--breaker of -cups and not too scrupulous a cleaner of the same, but nevertheless a -kindly and willing servant and a shrewd. When one morning, amid great -excitement and much embracing and kissing upon both cheeks by his -countrymen, Gustav left the camp _en route_ for France--his indifferent -health and the long period of his captivity entitling him to an -exchange--we were somewhat disconsolate. - -[Illustration: ORDERLY TOULON, CHASSEUR ALPINI.] - -Followed Robert, however, who told us that we might call him “Bobby,” -and who broke cups quite as effectively as Gustav, and cleaned them no -more efficiently. To us he was docility itself, but one morning, having -dressed with extreme care, and having found a substitute to wait upon -us, he went off mysteriously to town before breakfast, and on his -return informed us that he had been sentenced by the Germans to fifteen -months’ imprisonment “for revolt.” His offence was committed in the -first year of the war, and there was dubiety as to when the punishment -would commence. He showed me a photograph of his “_femme et enfants_,” -whom he had not seen in the flesh since 2nd August, 1914. Then he -wept. “Courage, Robert,” said I. “You will see your _enfants, après la -guerre_.” “Yes, but they will no longer be _enfants_!” - -[Illustration: THE TWO SERBIAN COLONELS TAKE THE SUN.] - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: LT. BERTOLOTTI.] - - - - -VII CARLSRUHE AT ITS KINDLIEST - - -With the coming of spring and early summer, Carlsruhe Camp, which for -many weeks had lain under deep snow, followed, at the touch of thaw, -by layers of mud and great pools of water, began to assume a more -pleasing aspect. In the centre of the court was a plot of green with -a bordering of rose bushes. On either side of this were two brief -avenues of horse-chestnut trees, which towards the middle of April were -in full foliage, the leaves hanging downwards like hands held demurely -or devoutly, the flowers showing like candles before an altar, or fairy -lights upon a fir tree at Christmas time. - -A month later, sitting in the court reading, we would be bombarded -by blossoms from these chestnuts, as if they would say, Look! And -assuredly they were well worth looking at. Whimsically they reminded me -of rubicund country faces framed in old-fashioned white bonnets. - -A prisoner myself, I imprison a few of these blossoms where they have -fallen between the pages of my book. In the fall of a blossom or of a -leaf from a tree there is the suggestion of a launch as well as of a -funeral. - -Outside the _Lager_ was a great poplar with a fine upward thrust and -sweep above the palisade; within was his tremulous sister, an aspen, -with leaves all aquiver like sequins upon the attire of a gipsy dancer. - -Even the barbed-wire fences seemed to make effort to hide something of -their menace, the grasses and weeds growing at their feet, laying -frail hands upon them as if clinging to them for support. - -[Illustration: LIEUT. CARUSO] - -A new hut is being erected in camp, and in the early morning, among the -other perfumes of Nature, I noted with pleasure the smell of new wood. -After all, a wooden hut is but a tree forced and fashioned into another -growth. Pity it is, almost, that it in turn cannot bourgeon and bring -forth! - -I am reading Turgenev. Lieut. Hunt passes me running; he is doing his -daily three times circuit of the camp. “Torrents of Spring!” he cries -laughingly, kicking up his heels colt-like, in reference both to my -book and to his own exuberance! - - -LINGUISTIC EFFORTS - -If we did not subsist by taking in each other’s laundry we possibly -survived death from ennui by teaching each other languages. - -As I read I can hear Dr. Griffin’s deliberate and enunciating voice. He -is our most proficient of professors, and is giving a French officer a -lesson in English, with special reference to the pronunciation. “The -knife of the boy and the stick of the man. Have you the pen of the -sister?” - -Two wounded officers are pushed in through the gates--one in a bath -chair, the other on a stretcher on wheels. A gramophone is giving forth -a military march with well-nigh the full power of a military band. The -march finishes with “God Save the King,” and a number of the officers -stand to attention. A drayman, who has been delivering stores to the -_Kantine_, cracks his whip with a report like a revolver shot, until -the sentry opens the gate, and he passes out. From one of the adjoining -houses come flights of arpeggios from a piano well played. - -One of my Italian friends, who, on the maternal side, is of Scottish -descent, is learning English, with the very tender idea of “giving a -surprise to Mother.” Bertolotti, another good comrade, and very apt -pupil of my own, approaches me after about a week’s tuition. “Good -morning,” he says. “Good morning.” Then, with more deliberation, “It is -a--bloody fool (beautiful) day!” - -Even this, however, is not so bad as the story told of Commandant -Niemeyer of Clausthal, who, when some prisoners on parade showed -evidence of mirthfulness at his somewhat pretentious display of rather -dubious English, burst forth irately, “You officers think I know -nothing--but I know damn all!” - -[Illustration: LT. VISCO.] - -I must not pass from my Italian friends without reference to the -hospitable and, indeed, quite regal dinner to which the group -entertained me upon a certain Sunday afternoon. Major Tuzzi sat at the -head of the board, for the covering of which my hosts had succeeded in -conjuring up from somewhere or other a white table-cloth--the only one -I saw during my captivity. They had also achieved quite a variety of -dishes, all of undeniable cookery. Chief of these was a great trencher -of macaroni, in the consumption of which--because of the greater -deftness in manipulation of my friends, and the unbounded generosity -of their helpings--I was easily the last man. A right merry and -unforgetable repast, with more of kindly family suggestion in it than -any I had in Germany. - - -LAST DAY IN CARLSRUHE - -On Friday morning the 5th July, between six and seven, “Hans” -entered our room, and fixing a sorrowful eye upon me--as one who -should enter the condemned cell to announce that it is approaching -eight o’clock--commenced his customary formula, “Well, gentlemen, -I’m sorry----” I knew that the hour of my departure had come, and, -before he had finished speaking, had mentally begun to pack up. - -[Illustration: LIEUT. LAZZARI] - -My chief emotion was exhilaration at the notion of a change of -environment after just two hundred days of captivity at Carlsruhe. I -bought a suit-case--chiefly composed of cardboard--into which I made -as diplomatic a packing of my sketches and papers as might be, in case -of trouble in that direction during the search which prefaces our -departure as it did our advent. - -“Naked we came into the world,” but I discovered that I had gradually -amassed very considerable possessions. Bundled most of them into a -woven straw sack which had held French biscuits, and which had already -done me comfortable service as a rug in front of my couch. Handed -over the cash-box--I had been appointed cashier of the camp the night -before--and gave account of my stewardship to the Brigadier-General -who was senior British officer in camp. 3.50 marks expended to repair -broken violin strings; 6.20 marks received from an orderly, being the -billiard-table takings for two days. Then farewells to be said all -round. - -Teixeira embraces me in true Portuguese fashion, Tuzzi wrings my hand -and repeats sadly, “It is necessary,” a phrase which we have both -come to use in pressing upon each other little presents of tobacco -and edibles. Lazzari gives me to understand that his robust tenor -will be mute to-morrow night, Calvi that his heart-strings as well -as those of his violin are broken. And so we pass into the “silence” -room for search. It turns out in the present instance to be a mere -formality--the interpreter puts his hand into my portmanteau and makes -a few pressures, as if he were feeling for heart-beats rather than for -hidden devices and designs. - -We partake of soup--the last plate of an uncountable series--and then -we form up outside the court. We hear that we are bound for Beeskow, -near Berlin. - -We answer to our names, and take up position in fours; there is a -hoarse order, and a clicking of magazines--the guards are loading -their rifles. The officer reports all correct, salutes, and then -motions us forward with a movement of his hand, and thus, amid cries -of encouragement and injunction from our comrades who remain, we get -into step, and pass through the gates. My last vision of Carlsruhe -_Kriegsgefangenenlager_ shows me the British Brigadiers and the Serbian -Colonels returning our salute; Maggiore Tuzzi, with a look of settled -melancholy upon his face, and Capitaine Teixeira, standing aloof, with -his hand upon his heart, as suggesting that I shall ever have occupancy -there. - -[Illustration: MAGGIORE TUZZI.] - - * * * * * - -PART II BEESKOW--BERLIN - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: “ALTES AMT,” BEESKOW LAGER] - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: A “VERBOTEN” SKETCH.] - - - - -VIII BEESKOW LAGER - - -The journey from Carlsruhe, in Baden, to Beeskow in der Mark presented -a marked contrast to the nightmare, the shivering and sleepless -progression between Le Cateau and Carlsruhe in mid-winter. We occupied -second-class carriages, well and warmly upholstered, and these we held -without change throughout the journey of thirty odd hours. - -The people encountered _en route_ were entirely civil, and not -over-curious. Every second woman seemed to bear upon her back--besides -the apparent burden of the war--a basket; every third man a rucksack. -Everywhere were visible evidences of intensive agriculture; the making -the most of a possibly not too opulent soil. Tillage right up the -hillslopes; potato patches almost up to the six-foot way. Continually -we alternated field and wood; brown boles of fir and pine, with, hidden -in their duskiness, the white stems of the silver birch, like flashes -of summer lightning. - -We had just a glimpse of Heidelberg, with its castle on the hill, and -arrived at Frankfurt towards six o’clock in the evening. We marched -through the crowded station--which in one of its wings bore evidence -of a recent air raid--to a hall where we had a meal of macaroni and -rissoles served by a pert and self-possessed boy of eleven clothed in a -precocious suit of evening dress. - -Next morning Weimar, with its quiet memories of Goethe and Schiller; -Merseburg, with its vast and unquiet Krupp works, springing up here in -precaution against possible air raids on Essen. And so, about nine of -the clock on Saturday evening, after a divergence from the main line, -the train pulled up at Beeskow, where it became at once apparent that -practically all the youngsters, and a large number of the grown-ups of -the town, had turned out to witness our arrival. - -It was the nearest thing to taking part on the wrong side at a -spectacle or victory that I had yet experienced--of being “butcher’d to -make a Roman holiday”--and yet it was soon evident that there was not a -sufficiency of “hate” in the whole crowd to cover a 50-pfennig piece. -To most of the children this was the first sight of the _Engländer_, -and they had obviously expected much more of monstrosity and oddity -than was forthcoming, and were disposed to be mirthful on very easy -provocation. - -A Lieutenant of the Cameron Highlanders, dressed in an arrangement of -the garb of old Gaul, which permitted of carpet slippers, puttees, and -an orderly’s peaked cap, consequently received most of the attention. - -Presently we came to a red-brick building of grim and ancient aspect, -with still visible evidences of an ancient moat. Turning up a rudely -cobbled way, we passed through an old wooden gateway, which, opened for -our admittance, closed immediately again, making a welcome shutting-out -of the noise of the rabble. We were in a sloping courtyard of -circumscribed appearance, with a square old red-brick tower standing up -in the dusk, and a surrounding of other buildings, with rolling roofs, -having rounded dormer windows in them. - -Most of the other officers were disappointed at a first impression of -the place. “Lee’s happy,” said one, “because he’s got an old castle to -sketch!” - -Before we could presume on bed--for which, having spent a sleepless -night in the train, we were more than ready--there had to be a -searching of baggage. This brought me no little searching of heart, -my impedimenta, as an old-timer, being easily the heaviest, and -containing sketches and journals which I desired to preserve. I was -busily explaining the multitude of these note-books by hinting at my -theatrical activities at Carlsruhe, when another of the examining -officers produced from one of my portfolios what at first sight might -have seemed to be a somewhat incriminating sketch of that camp. Beyond -a rather flattering interest in my artistic efforts generally, however, -the drawings were passed without trouble, but the _Oberleutnant_ said -that it would be necessary to retain for perusal one book of my journal. - -[Illustration: THE PRISON CAMP AT BEESKOW--AN AUDIENCE WITH THE -COMMANDANT.] - -I found that my dormitory was located in what had been a bishop’s -palace, the arms still being visible on either side of one of the -windows. Passing up a very old and dirty, but not uninteresting -staircase, and through a somewhat dingy and dilapidated dining-hall, I -obtained sanctuary with eleven other officers in an equally dingy and -disreputable room, the ancient oaken cross-rafters of which had been -painted to a ridiculous imitation of marble! Notwithstanding, there was -small likelihood of my dreaming “that I dwelt in marble halls.” Lights, -for this night only, were not turned out until midnight, though I have -it on my conscience that I endeavoured to mislead the _Feldwebel_ -into the belief that this was the customary hour at Carlsruhe. - -[Illustration: THE OLD TOWER, BEESKOW LAGER] - -Hot coffee--_Ersatz_--made from acorns, was served at eight o’clock -next morning; at nine, to the sound of hammer-blows struck upon the -old, red-rusted coulter of a plough swung from a wooden frame, we -mustered in the court for roll-call. There were three officers--the -Commandant, an elderly gentleman, with an obviously explosive temper, -and a decidedly unmilitary stoop; the _Oberleutnant_, portly and -complacent-looking; and the Lieutenant, a young man, and the only one -of the trio to have seen service in this war. He was here, indeed, -because he had been very badly wounded. The orders of the camp were -read by the interpreter, who would doubtless have looked rather -_distingué_ in evening dress, but whom a private soldier’s uniform -rendered stiff and gauche. - -He was sufficiently gracious to give me some details as to the history -of our new domicile, the _altes Amt_, and the squat old _Turm_. The -place was erected in 1252 by Barons or Knights, in whose hands it -remained for a couple of centuries. These Barons becoming financially -indebted to the Bishops of Frankfurt-on-the-Oder, and Lebus, the -buildings ultimately passed into their possession, and were used as -an ecclesiastical residence. About the beginning of last century they -reverted to the Crown, and finally to the Corporation of Beeskow. It -was looked upon as a punishment camp, and we were the first British -prisoners to be held there. - - -THE KANTINE AND THE CATERING - -We had a _Kantine_, run by a civilian named Herr Solomon, who, however, -because of his dilatoriness, and an easy deferring until to-morrow of -what should have been ordered to-day, was always known as “Morgen, -Morgen!” The _Kantine_, which was open daily from 11 to 1, and 5 to -7 evening, contained a selection of commodities ranging from a lager -beer--which was very essentially a _Lager_ beer--to a solitary example -of a variation of Sandow’s chest-expander, for which no purchaser was -ever forthcoming. Something to expand a still lower compartment of our -anatomy was what we were in continual search of. - -[Illustration: HERR SOLOMON, THE KANTINE KEEPER.] - -The catering here, however, which was also in Herr “Morgen, Morgen’s” -hands, marked a great advance on the Carlsruhe kitchen. The finer hand -of femininity was quite apparent in the cooking, a number of women from -the country being employed, and we usually were served with a soup -which we could eat without loss of self-respect. Being in the centre of -an agricultural district, we had a good supply of potatoes and certain -vegetables, and when we were able to supplement these with a slice of -bully, we did not do too badly. - - -“MUCH READING----!” - -Immediately on our arrival at Beeskow I was appointed to the enviable -post of librarian, but found myself in the unenviable position of -having no library. I accordingly placed upon the notice board the -following urgent appeal: - -[Illustration: “ONLY ONE BOOK!”] - -This rather tickled the camp, including the German officers, -who immediately responded with a gift of some twenty volumes. -Unfortunately, these were entirely in German, through which only one or -two of the officers could even spell their way, but they were in the -nature of a godsend to M. Bloch, a Russian dentist, who was the only -foreign officer in camp, and who spoke German as fluently as one may -speak that influent tongue. _Pro tem._, then, I considered myself as -acting to him in the not onerous capacity of private librarian. - -A few fragments of Tauchnitz editions were very literally “fluttering” -around the camp, and on these I affixed wherever possible the seal -of my office--and a touch of seccotine. I also sent out appeals to -the Christlichen Vereine Junger Männer, Berlin; to Sir Alfred Davies, -and the Camp Libraries Committee, London; while I made ordering of a -formidable list of Tauchnitz publications. Berlin responded almost -immediately with thirty volumes of varied sort, mostly the gift -apparently of private citizens. - -In several of the works I observed a bookplate, inscribed “Sophie, -Mein Buch,” and representing a very green and very flourishing Tree -of Knowledge, bearing five apples of a more than tempting redness, a -rising sun, and an open volume. Somehow the bookplate conjured up -before me a vision of the gentle Sophie, fresh as the dawn, and rosy -and ripe as the pictured apples. - -With this collection and the odds and ends floating about the camp I -decided to open shop, though my shelves would only afford a fraction of -a book per man. Accordingly at nine o’clock in the morning, immediately -after roll-call, I headed a regular rush and stampede to the library; -undid the padlock, swung wide the door of the book cupboard, and -declared the library indeed open. - -As senior officer of the camp, the Colonel had choice of the first -volume, after which it was a case of first come first served. For a few -minutes the floor space in front of my cupboard presented something of -the appearance of a football field with a “rugger” scrum on, and then -I closed the door upon only two books--and these the second volumes of -two-volume novels. In less than a month, however, I had several hundred -books under my charge. - -One day the German interpreter handed me a note of four volumes -which he was desirous of having on loan. These were: “The Poems of -Robert Burns”; “The Adventures of Tom Sawyers”; “An Ideal Husband,” -by Oscar Wilde; and “East Lynne,” by----Carlyle! This last rather -nonplussed me until I recalled that the name of the greatly-wronged and -long-suffering solicitor in the novel--which one might say had solved -the problem of perpetual emotion--was Carlyle. - -It was this same interpreter who, donating to the library a small -guide book of Beeskow, first tore off the cover which carried a map of -the town and environs. “As a good German,” he said, “it is my duty to -prevent you from escaping.” - - -WE WALK ABROAD - -Having adhibited our signatures to a form of parole stipulating that we -should not make effort to escape, under penalty of death, during such -time as we were out for exercise, on the third or fourth day after our -arrival we went out for a walk under conduct of Lieut. Kruggel. - -Beeskow is a country town of four or five thousand inhabitants, and -possesses certain streets picturesque and paintable. There is a -red-brick church, with a steeple and a great sloping roof. On the old -walls, which still stand, are a series of towers, on the largest of -which, as if presiding over the town, were two storks, who gazed at us -as if with curiosity over the edge of their nest. - -On this first morning we elected to visit the playing-field allotted -to the camp, which is situated about a mile distant from it. To the -professional eye of one of our number, an old internationalist, it will -serve for football, but not for cricket. - -On the other side of the road, behind a _Gasthof_, and just on the edge -of a strip of forest, there was a tennis court, but it had obviously -not been played on for many a day. We at once commenced clearing the -ground, a task in which we were soon being aided by _mein Herr_ of the -_Gasthof_--who is proprietor of the court--his wife, and his daughters. - -One of the girls has a rake, which she playfully aims at Lieutenant -Kruggel, who promptly throws up his arms and cries, “_Kamarad!_” - -[Illustration: THE STORK TOWER, BEESKOW.] - -As we returned, a bald-headed, elderly gentleman standing behind -the gate of a villa garden spat upon the ground, and treated us to -a mouthful or two of morning hate. Lieutenant Kruggel apologized -profusely. Strange that the civilian should be uncivil--the soldier -never. - - -BIRDS OF A FEATHER - -In the little courtyard three or four white fan-tailed pigeons -fluttered about the roofs, like peace birds prematurely arrived from -oversea, while on the other side of the barbed wire was a small colony -of rabbits and poultry and pigs, the property of the German guard. -Then there was Jacob, a ferocious and fearless jackdaw with clipped -wings, who was not indisposed to be friendly, however. Certainly we -were companions in misfortune, my wings not less thoroughly clipped -than his. Ultimately, while I read, or even sketched, he would lie on -his back in my hand with his legs in the air, ever and anon opening a -drowsy eye. Long before I had seen them, however, he would have greeted -several of his own kind, if not his own kin, wheeling round the old -tower, and they would return answer. - -[Illustration: PRISONERS ALL.] - -Sometimes of a morning I would pick Jacob up as I passed to the bath, -and, perched upon my finger, he would participate with me in the -rigorous joys of the cold douche, the water rattling off his back -like rain from an umbrella. Latterly there were two jackdaws, and I -have watched a German sentry feeding them with spiders collected in -a matchbox, swinging them out on their own thread as an angler would -cast a baited line. After the Armistice these two delightful vagabonds -suddenly and mysteriously vanished. Rumour had it that they appeared on -a German table in a German pie! - -[Illustration: THE PRISON GATEWAY] - - - - -IX ESCAPES AND ESCAPADES - - -Only one officer ever escaped from Beeskow Camp, and he only by the -dusty and tenebrous passage of Death. He was a Rumanian, and he -actually succeeded in scaling the high wall encircling the _Lager_, but -fell off into the dried moat and broke his neck. - -Tunnelling under the ancient wall was the method that seemed to hold -out most promise of success, and a number of efforts were made in this -direction. These were all detected, however, at various stages of the -mining operations. One such discovery led to a regular hue and cry -and the hunt up for possible “holes.” Three or four _Posten_, one of -whom put a facetious finger to the side of his nose, came clattering -into the reading-room on this errand, when we all held up our feet to -facilitate matters! In explanation of the gaping hole found behind a -cupboard in one of the dormitories “rats” were suggested. - -A new _Feldwebel_ who came to the camp seemed to have received strict -injunction to look daily at the bars of the windows to make certain -that there had been no tampering with them overnight. Thus he had -a habit of dropping in at unexpected moments to the library, the -dining-hall, or the dormitories, but always with an air of looking for -some one or something else. Assuredly he did not wish to impute to us -the using upon the windows of anything so unfriendly as a file. - -One morning he came suddenly into our room, walked awkwardly and -self-consciously to the window, by which was standing a deck chair; -then, casting a quick, sidelong glance at the barred pane, he said -smilingly in German, “A very good chair,” and so departed. - -[Illustration: THE MARIENKIRCHE, BEESKOW] - -This _Feldwebel_, by the way, although he arrived in July, came in like -a lion, and went out like a lamb, turning out to be the gentlest -German of them all. He was black-bearded as Thor or Odin, and at -his first parade, on the appearance of the Commandant and staff, -he bellowed “_Ach-tung!_” in a stentorian voice, which, if it did -not make us shake in our shoes, certainly caused us to smile in our -sleeves. Even the camp officers were amused, and Lieut. Kruggel laughed -outright. Next morning the poor _Feldwebel’s_ “_Ach-tung!_” was so -subdued and so robbed of its virility, that it was more stimulating to -our risible faculties than that of the day before. He had obviously -been requested to modify his powerful “word of command.” - - -THE FLIGHT THAT FAILED - -One day I had been sketching the interior of the Marienkirche at -Beeskow, a sentry with loaded rifle sitting by me in the silent church. -He informed me that he also was an artist, but with his feet and not -his hands, and that he had danced at the London Hippodrome. That night, -after roll-call, the German, Lieutenant Stark, expressed a desire to -see the drawing. - -As it was dark, I practically impelled him for a few paces to -the arc-lamp at the gate, at the very moment when three Captains -courageously made an effort to pass through the building used as an -office, which gives on to the garden, from whence access to the road -would have been comparatively easy. A further diversion was created -by a Lieutenant falling down in the court as if in a fit, though this -was nothing but a feint. The office was occupied by Germans, however, -and, softly and politely closing the door behind them, the trio turned -back. Captain Brown, by reason of his great stature--he was six feet -six inches--was readily recognized, and next morning the three officers -were brought up for attempting to escape, and sentenced to three days’ -confinement in the “Tower.” - -Imprisonment in this old strong place, by the way, was not looked upon -as a very grievous punishment. In fact, but for the disability of being -deprived of the daily walk, it was an improvement on our ordinary -condition. The prisoner had a room, a bed, a table, and a chair to -himself; a lamp, which he could keep burning long after “lights -out,” and meals sent up to him by a member of his mess punctually at -the appointed times. Then, as librarian, I allowed certain latitudes -in the supply of literature. To Captain Brown, as appropriate to -his position, I sent Tighe Hopkins’ “Dungeons of Old Paris”; then, -relenting, and remembering that he was a Scot and an Edinburgh man, I -followed this up immediately by Stevenson’s “The Master of Ballantrae.” - -[Illustration: THE LATE LIEUT. W. L. ROBINSON, V.C. (A FELLOW-PRISONER -AT BEESKOW LAGER)] - -Another bid for freedom was made by Captain R., to whom for the purpose -I lent a red neckerchief and a civilian cap, which had somehow escaped -the authoritative eye and got through to me. R.’s scheme was to secrete -himself under a table covered with a blanket, at which a quartette -was playing a belated game of “Bridge” in the court under one of the -lamps and in close proximity to the barbed fence, cut the wire, and lie -hid in the shrubbery until such time as he might find opportunity of -passing out of the gate. - -We had just sat down to dinner, when the violent ringing of the -_Appell_ bell announced to us that the plot had been detected. Next -morning I met a German soldier carrying a yard or two of barbed -wire--like a line newly baited--with which to replace the cutting -made by the Captain, and at parade a camp order was read notifying -all concerned that no more tables or chairs would be permitted in -the courtyard. Almost immediately thereafter, amid the groans of the -British officers, began a ruthless cutting down of the few shrubs and -saplings which adorned the yard and which could conceivably afford us -any hiding. - -Even Lieut. Kruggel’s sunflowers and creepers, which provided a hedge -of privacy for his little cottage, had to be sacrificed, to his great -distress and disgust. In the afternoon three pumpkins sat forlornly -upon the three steps of the Lieutenant’s cottage, all that had been -left to him of horticultural adornment! - -On another evening in October an officer, disguised as a German -_Posten_, boldly approached the gate with the somewhat optimistic hope -that he would be permitted to pass out unchallenged. He was detected -by the sentry, however, and came running back, taking off his disguise -as he fled. When the guards ultimately reached his room for a search, -he was playing “Patience.” Before making his venture he returned me -his library book, which, I observed with interest, was the Iliad. -Unhappily, there was to be no Odyssey for him on this occasion. - -One morning at breakfast a civilian arrived in the dining-hall, -accompanied by a sentry, to execute some repairs upon the gas stoves. -He turned his back for a moment; the _Posten_ is reported to have -looked lovingly and longingly into a pot of rice, and lo, presto! a -couple of pairs of pincers belonging to the plumber had disappeared. No -trace of what they called the “tongs” being forthcoming before morning -roll-call, a search was instituted, during which time, except for the -senior officer of each room, we were excluded from our quarters. The -pincers were discovered next day, but for two mornings we were deprived -of our walks abroad. - - -RAGGING THE COMMANDANT - -There is a piece of music of amazing eccentricity and extravagance, -yclept “By Heck,” by Henri. It is what is known as a “Fox Trot,” and, -as recorded for the gramophone, is played by the Metropolitan Band. We -were sufficiently mischievous one morning to arrange that it commence -its erratic riot at an open window immediately the word “_Achtung!_” -from the _Feldwebel_ announced the arrival of the Commandant on parade. - -The scheme worked beyond wildest imaginings. One blow from the hammer -upon the old coulter, and we tumbled out--and fell in. Simultaneously -with the second stroke the door of the Commandant’s room opened, and he -emerged, for all the world after the fashion of the little male figure -which used to issue from the old-fashioned weather-house when the day -promised fine, or foul, I forget which. It was certainly to be foul -this morning. - -[Illustration: CARICATURE OF THE CAMP COMMANDANT. By a Rumanian -officer.] - -“_Achtung!_” We came to the salute, and simultaneously there came a -burst of mirthful music from the window. The effect on the Commandant -was electrical. He shook his fist at the open window, and in two or -three seconds had as many convulsed sentries tearing up the stairs to -stop the ribald strains. Meanwhile, with thumping of timpani, drum-tap, -cat-call, cock-crow, whistle, and motor-horn, the gramophone ground out -its litany, until at last it was pulled up with a jerk. The Commandant -had the instrument commandeered and sequestered in the tower, but -later, yielding to the plausibilities of Lieut. D., he returned it. “I -think I like theatre better in the morning,” was the new interpreter’s -comment. - -The mere sight of our somewhat careless parade seemed sometimes -sufficient to throw the Commandant into a frenzy. One morning a -Lieutenant was caught smoking by the old man, who swung his arms -furiously, and passed sentence of three days’ confinement in the tower. -To relieve the tedium the prisoner must have taken a flute with him, -for towards evening melancholy notes floated from the barred window, -the air being “The Close of a Perfect Day!” - - -“HIS EXCELLENCY WISHES” - -On a certain day in August, the result doubtless of our continual -complaint as to conditions in the _Lager_, His Excellency General -Waldhausen, Inspector of Prisoner of War Camps, paid us a visit. Rather -a soldierly type this old General, with gruffness and kindliness -apparently continually contending for the mastery. He shook hands with -the Colonel and some of the senior officers, and asked the name of each -of the others--to what purpose I cannot conceive, as most of these -names could convey nothing to him. - -“His Excellency wishes that you are to gather round!” Thus the -interpreter. We gathered round very intimately, something to His -Excellency’s dismay, who had not anticipated such an encircling -movement. - -Then His Excellency opened his mouth and spoke to us, and signalled -with his hand to the interpreter. The interpreter looked more than -usually pallid, and more than usually uncomfortable. He began in -trembling tones: “His Excellency wishes--His Excellency wishes--His -Excellency wishes you to know that we consider you no longer our -enemies.” - -His Excellency casts glances, first at the interpreter, then at us, to -see whether his magnanimity has been rightly understood. - -Then he talks again, and the interpreter, with knocking at the knees -and dismay in the eyes, essays to interpret. - -“His Excellency wishes--His Excellency wishes--that you do obey -strictly the prescriptions of the camp.” The staff smile; His -Excellency looks suspicious. “Have they rightly understood?” One -of the staff suggests to him that some of the English officers are -laughing. Gruffness predominates at once. - -The interpreter, more visibly nervous than ever, is incited to try -again. “His Excellency wishes--His Excellency wishes--His Excellency -wishes that----” - -His Excellency fumes; His Excellency wishes that the poor -interpreter--now almost in a state of collapse--commit his message -to paper before he commit further indiscretions. There is a lengthy -confabulation and concoction of phrase, and ultimately the interpreter -reads stammeringly: - -“His Excellency wishes you to know that he considers you as no longer -our enemies. His Excellency wishes you to know that he will do -everything he can possibly for your comforts. His Excellency wishes -you to strictly observe the prescriptions of the camp.” Thereafter His -Excellency gives audience, and, as a result, it is understood that a -card system of parole will be adopted; that an effort will be made to -combat the plague of fleas, and that otherwise there will be immediate -reform. - -[Illustration: NARROW ALLEY, BEESKOW.] - - - - -X IN CHURCH--A POLISH BAPTISM - - -Once a month we were privileged to attend the ancient Marienkirche, -where a service modelled as nearly as might be on the English Church -evensong was conducted by the German Lutheran pastor. The service, -including the sermon, which only lasted three minutes--a model brevity -for homilies--was sympathetic, simple, and not difficult to follow for -anyone with a slight knowledge of German. - -As not infrequently, I probably received most benefit and benediction -from matters extraneous to the ritual. My ears would be assailed by the -sharp, almost metallic, tapping upon the windows of the leaves of the -elm tree outside, which may have sported thus to the winds of a century -or more. My roving eyes sought the Last Supper upon the reredos, -whereon it was to be observed that one of the Twelve is handing a -morsel to a dog, while the Disciple whom Jesus loved has his arm -affectionately through that of his Master. The interior of the church -is entirely white, with here and there a quickening and vivification in -a note of red or blue or brown on the altar, the pulpit, and the organ. - -After the service, I wandered up the old wooden stairs to the choir -and organ loft, remarking the carven names and other havoc wrought by -generations of choir boys, and, indeed, impressed with a sense that -their roguish spirits were tripping up before me. - -The organ is old. On the manual the sharps are in white, the naturals -in black. The blowing arrangement consists of a succession of three -movable beams, on which I had a glimpse of the old blower, like some -ancient, dilapidated god chained to his task and making ascent of -interminable flights of stairs. The organ had been stripped of all -but the very smallest of its metal pipes for the making of munitions; -doubtless they have gone hurtling through the air to deeper diapasons -than they ever sounded here! - -In the ambulatory is an ancient and crude wooden Calvary; a great -tributary box “Für die Armen,” much bestudded with nails, and dating -from Luther’s day; also cases with medals of Beeskow men who have -fought for the Fatherland from the Napoleonic Wars onward. In the -pulpit is a quaint old hour-glass of four glasses; in the vestry a -church clock centuries old. - -As we returned from one of these services the interpreter--the third -in succession--told me that as a young man he set out to adventure to -Iceland. He got as far as Swinemunde, when he met a young lady, and so, -as he said, “I got engaged instead.” “Such things happen,” he added -reflectively. I could only express the hope that never since had he -got into such hot water as he might have experienced at the Geysers! -The interpreter’s wife, by the way, was Madame Reinl, who has sung at -Covent Garden in such parts as Isolde, and who for a number of years -was a _prima donna_ in Berlin. - - -FOR THE DEAD - -The Sunday after the signing of the Armistice a score of us attended -morning service. We had seats in one of the galleries facing the -pulpit, so that we could participate without being too conspicuously -present. As it was, the congregation evinced no undue curiosity, though -the three or four choir boys in the organ loft seemed to accept us -gratefully as something of a spectacle for the enlivening of a dull day. - -The congregation was very sparse, and consisted mostly of elderly -women, sombre, sorrowful, almost emblematic figures; sad-faced, black -clad, lonely. The vast white interior seemed cold--was cold, so that -the organist, in his high latitudes, kept on his coat, with the collar -upturned, and during the sermon made excursion among the architecture -of the instrument. The pastor looked ill and depressed, and, with -obviously a sad heart, he commenced his discourse, “This has been a -heavy week for the Fatherland.” - -On the following Sunday was held the yearly service for the dead. -There were six or seven hundred people present, again mostly women, and -again all in black. Many of them wept silently throughout the service, -others gave way now and again to audible outbursts of grief. I could -only see one living German soldier, but who shall say the spirits of -how many dead were there? - -[Illustration: SERVICE FOR THE DEAD] - - -A POLISH BAPTISM - -In our walks abroad we have frequently passed a humble little chapel, -which has been built for the numerous Poles who work on the farms in -the neighbourhood. One Sunday forenoon in October, when hints and -hopes of peace were in the air, I accompanied the padre and the Roman -Catholic party in camp to this chapel, and was witness of a very -interesting and picturesque baptismal ceremony. - -The low-roofed room with its humble altar at one end, its walls hung -with the stations of the cross, and perforated with windows showing -the golden dying glories of the trees, was crowded with these rural -folks. The women and girls were wearing quaint and brightly-coloured -skirts and head-dresses showing pathetic effort after fashion and -fitness of attire for the occasion. A virile femininity this, obviously -built for child-bearing. In fact, most of the women seem to be in -an interesting condition, and the officiating priest has no fewer -than five infants to baptize. From these bundles of babyhood, which -look like white bolsters tied with brightly-coloured ribands, comes -a continuous, but not too vehement, crying, which, even to my not -unsympathetic ear, seems something similar to the squealing of little -pigs. - -Three women stand up, supported by their lawful lords, ungainly, in -unfamiliar Sunday garments, and diminutive beside their wives. Ever and -anon one of the women performs mystery and miracle with her fingers in -the mouth of her offspring to the temporary appeasing of its rage. - -The remaining two women, who are seated, are in deep black, and their -husbands are not forthcoming. When their turn arrives, and they too -stand before the priest, there is something peculiarly pathetic in -the unconscious crying of these posthumous infants whose fathers have -doubtless fallen, just as I can behold the leaves falling from the -trees outwith the windows. - -These humble folk, many of them, would desire to remain behind for -our service, but the guard has received special instructions from the -Commandant this morning, and the German soldiers turn them out. One -elderly dame makes a spirited demand for admission, and, the soldier -proving obdurate, she bides her time until his back is turned, then -enters and falls upon her knees facing the altar as if defying him to -turn her out. - -The padre gives us a little homily on the approaching peace, with a -further urging of that “Peace which the world cannot give.” - -On the march back to our _Lager_ we pass an ancient and dilapidated -hackney-coach, open to display to an admiring world two of our mothers, -with bundles tied with blue ribbon and red, in which the babies have -been entirely buried out of sight against a biting wind. - -[Illustration: OLD INN AT BEESKOW, NOW BURNED DOWN.] - - -ADVENTURES AFOOT - -On the outskirts of Beeskow was a great _Kaserne_ or barracks of the -Garde-Feldartillerie-Regiments, from which in the morning we could -sometimes hear the bugle sing reveille. This is not dissimilar to our -own, and carries the same suggestion in it of the ascending sun. In -those dreary and difficult days the same heavy and uneasy suggestion -also, that it falls upon many ears as unwishful to hear it as they -would the Last Trump on Judgment Morn. - -Sometimes we would meet a company of German soldiers coming back -from a route march or returning from the shooting range--a likely -enough looking lot, marching stoutly and singing lustily. When the -_Unteroffizier_ saw us he would give the order to march to attention, -which was very smartly carried out. In walking through the town we were -continually followed by the little children, who would clatter after us -in their sabots, in manner reminiscent of the “Pied Piper of Hamelin,” -making demand for “_Kuchen_.” They would even break into our ranks, and -insinuate their hands into our tunic pockets in search of the biscuits -which were sometimes tossed to them. - -During a walk one afternoon we were overtaken by a sharp shower, -and sought shelter under the trees around some cottages. A little -girl watched us with a timid wonder, which ultimately gave place to -half-confidence. The rain increasing in violence, the mother threw open -her door in invitation, while she and the little girl retired to the -kitchen, leaving us the lobby, in which we sheltered until the worst of -the storm was over. - -One day we met an aged woman bearing a burden of faggots through the -forest. When she cast eyes on us she suddenly put her hand to her -face and burst into bitter tears. One afternoon we passed an old -road-mender, whose carefully built piles of stones had much of the -order and durability of a wall, and on whose bent back was a tangible -token of the passage of years as big as any of his boulders. - -On another occasion when we walked to the tennis court the German -Lieutenant’s wife was waiting for him at the _Gasthof_, and the two -partook of refreshment together at a little table under the trees. When -we marched back we found that she was still accompanying him on the -side-walk, which seemed to give to the whole parade a decidedly homely -suggestion. - -On Saturday afternoons we played football with the orderlies, when, in -view of my advancing years and other discretions, I occasionally acted -in the more retired position of full back. Pleasanter for me, however, -was it to lie on my back in the forest, watching the young fir trees -swaying to the wind like the masts of ships, while ever and anon they -struck with a noise suggestive of the crossing of swords. - -One of our orderlies, by the way, had been captured at Mons, and was a -typical soldier of the period. He and his mate were lying in a ditch, -up to the middle in mud and water, and under heavy fire. “I says to -him, ‘Put a little artificial flower on me grave--I’m fond o’ roses -myself.’” His teeth were knocked out by the butt of a soldier’s rifle, -and he was flung into a church. When he first saw a loaf he “charged -it,” toothless gums and all. He is still in the “eye for an eye, tooth -for a tooth,” attitude towards his enemies. And he has lost practically -a whole set! - -Another orderly, who had recently been on commando, showed me his leg, -which was badly scalded. “That’s the sort of thing we do, sir,” he -said, “to prevent being sent down the mines!” - -[Illustration: “IN SINCE MONS!”] - -[Illustration: KIRCHESTRASSE, BEESKOW. One of many such sketches made -freely in the streets after the Armistice.] - - - - -XI THE REVOLUTION - - -From scraps of conversation with the sentries and the interpreter, we -knew by the middle of October that the Germans would sign an armistice -whatever the terms might be. One afternoon the “Top” and “Bottom” -of the house were engaged in a hockey match. As I stood on the road -watching the contested field, passed me a cart driven by a French -soldier prisoner of war. A German boy, burdened with a great sack of -_Kartoffeln_ for Beeskow, gave hail, and the soldier pulled up and -waited patiently until both boy and burden were on board. As he moved -off he saluted me, and cried cheerily, “Bientôt, la paix!” - -I approached Lieut. Stark and asked him when the game was likely to -finish. “I suppose,” said he in his slow, deliberate English, “when -they have won enough.” The German civilian, who had some days before -surreptitiously slipped us a copy of the _Times_, was here again -to-day, and obviously anxious to unburden himself to some one. Lieut. -Stark, however, succeeded in hedging him off until the return journey, -when we in front overtook him on the footpath. While still two or three -yards behind him, I said, “Change your umbrella to your left hand!” -As we passed we were thus able to slip him a couple of packets of tea -in exchange for another copy of the paper, and also to arrange that -in future he place the paper behind a certain tree. These papers were -about a fortnight old usually, but they were very precious to us, and -were circulated in rotation to every officer in the _Lager_. - -On Saturday evening, the 9th November, an _Extrablatt_, announcing the -“Abdankung des Kaisers,” found its way into camp, and created some -little excitement. At Beeskow we were within breathing distance of -Berlin, one might say, and we almost seemed to be haunted by a vision -of that haunted man who had striven, in his own egotistical way, to -fashion his country, and who seemed destined to see it shattered into -shards. There was a rumour that the officer at the _Kaserne_ had been -deposed, and, in expectation of trouble, all the shops in Beeskow -closed at six o’clock. In the dark outside we heard two or three shots, -but no one seemed able to explain them. - - -THE PASSING OF THE COMMANDANT - -On Sunday morning, as it transpired, we paraded before the old -Commandant for the last time. Shortly after _Appell_ he was waited upon -by a delegation from the men, headed by a stout corporal who in peace -time is a North Sea fisherman, and informed that his services were no -longer required. With a touch of pride the corporal told me of his part -in the deposition. - -When informed that he must resign, “_Warum?_” inquired the Commandant. -This was explained, but he still demurred. “I must wait,” said he, “for -instructions from headquarters.” “We give you your instructions,” -replied the corporal, “and you must go.” - -Thereupon the old man wept. “_Er weinet_,” said the corporal, and he -drew a finger from his eye downward to demonstrate. Greater than the -Commandant wept in these days, I take it! - -While we talked, standing on the road by the playing-field, came along -the civilian, who succeeded eventually in transferring to my possession -a copy of the _Times_ for 29th October containing a sensational -discussion in the Reichstag, and also a slip of paper folded to a spill -on which he had pencilled the terms of the armistice. - -Over the barracks we found that the Imperial flag had been shorn of -its black and white strips, and that only a thin red shred stood out -menacingly in the wind from the staff. - -A picket, with arms piled, was posted at the forked roads, and from -the caps of all the soldiers the badges had been torn. These men more -than ever seemed disposed to be fraternal; indeed, as we passed the -_Kaserne_ some of the soldiers at the windows shouted out that they -would be glad to play us a game of football now. - -They deposed the Major who was in charge of the barracks, and the -Medical Officer--he of the dashing manner and the Airedale terrier, who -visited us for inoculatory purposes--had also to go. The Major and his -young daughter were in a hotel when the soldiers demanded an audience. -The Major endeavoured to escape by a back entrance, but was held, and -had the humiliation of having his epaulets torn off, while his sword -was broken and the pieces handed to the children standing around. So we -had the story. - -In our own camp Lieut. Stark, who was a ranker, and also reputed to -be sympathetic to the revolution, was elected Commandant by the men’s -committee--distinguished by white bands on their arms--in spite of the -fact that Lieut. Kruggel was his superior in rank. The men took off -Kruggel’s epaulets and badges, and then saluted him. - -It was in these troublous times that Captain U., who was being -transferred to another camp on account of his health, succeeded -in jumping off the train when it slowed down somewhere in the -neighbourhood of Storkow. The train was stopped, but no very effectual -search was made, and the Captain, retracing his steps, had almost -reached Lubben, when he was overtaken and held up by a gamekeeper on -a bicycle, and carrying a gun. He was brought back to camp, and had -a great reception, particularly from the members of his own mess, we -having prepared a sort of composite meal of breakfast, lunch, tea, and -dinner. U. was looking none the worse for two or three nights’ and -days’ exposure, and attributed his healthful appearance to “having had -something to do.” Lieutenant Stark imposed no punishment, his only -comment being, “This is not the good time for escaping; there will be -peace in two days.” - - -LATITUDES AND LIBERTIES - -Under the new regime our privileges were considerably extended. A -few days after the Armistice, for instance, we were permitted to be -present at a cinematographic entertainment. - -The show was held in a rather dull and sad little hall, on the roof -and walls of which, however, some artist had made valiant efforts at -decoration with impossible pots and vases of impossible roses--neither -white, nor red, nor even blue. - -Behind the screen was a suggestion of a small stage, on which, -doubtless, tragedy histrionic had been achieved in the days -before tragedy overtook the town and the country generally. A -dispirited-looking woman seemed to be in charge of affairs, and -under her rather anxious direction our orderlies--all out for the -afternoon--wheeled a piano into the hall, on which Lieutenant Davies -and a German soldier, who has studied at the Berlin Conservatorium, -alternately played melodies classic and cinematographic during the -performance. A preliminary notice flung on the screen, “Rauchen ist -Verboten,” went unheeded. - -The first film, which gave rather charming glimpses of German family -life, represented the adventures and misadventures of a poor little -girl, who, after drinking a magic elixir, dreamt that she had become -the daughter of a Graf. Mark Twain’s “Prince and the Pauper” in more -modern guise. Second item, the efforts of a policeman to bring home -his sheaves with him in the shape of a very sly and slippery tramp. -The third, a _Lustspiel_ in four most amatory acts, introducing the -customary machinery, so well known to the cinema stage, of love -missives, magnificent motor-cars, bedrooms and bathrooms; keyholes -betwixt these apartments; the never-failing porter with the inevitable -trunk which forms the last inevitable stronghold and sanctuary for the -inevitable hapless lover pursued by the inevitable unhappy husband. - -Altogether, not too bad an entertainment for the money, which was -one mark per head--_Lagergeld_, we having not yet been supplied with -ordinary currency. This was the first night I had been out after dark -since my capture, and it was pleasant to step free upon the pavement, -and to see the comfortable lights in the shops. At a second cinema -entertainment, we had--by request--a series of pictures showing German -soldiers at work and play in rest billets. - -In the outskirts of the forest stood the Gesellschaft Gasthaus, -with, in the window, announcement of an entertainment in the form of -an acrobatic act by “Les Original Alfonso Geissler.” The handbill, -highly coloured, represented in one part of it, Monsieur, in evening -dress, and with all the suavity of the dove, making request for a -glass of beer from Mademoiselle at a public bar; in a second tableau -discovers him, sloughed of his garb of respectability and, arrayed -in multi-coloured tights, displaying all the cunning and pliancy of -the serpent in marvellous contortions among the barroom properties. -The proprietor informed us that he and his wife and three sons--one -the hero of the handbill--were all travelling acrobats, that they had -appeared frequently in England, and that they were in Sweden when the -war broke out. It was observable that during the entertainment--which, -despite the bill, proved to be entirely cinematographic--the proprietor -obtained his incidental music by making demand upon several of the -talented among the audience. - -In this connection a rather notable incident occurred, though here -it seemed to pass without note. A boy of about fourteen, who had -earned his admission by operating the cinema for the major part of -the evening, came quietly forward, took the violin from the rather -faltering hand of a young soldier who had been agonizing for the last -hour, and commenced to play with a sure and virile bow. He proved to be -a friend of our German soldier pianist, and like him has studied at the -Berlin Conservatorium. - - -SKETCHING IN THE STREETS - -I was now allowed to sketch freely in the streets without hindrance or -interruption, save for the presence of the younglings, which, after -all, need not prove distracting or disconcerting. On the contrary, -it may be even stimulating. Their criticism, for one thing, is -largely enthusiastic, and this sometimes proves contagious. “_Fein!_” -“_Hübsch!_” The pencil probably makes effort to prove worthy of such -compliment. Then again, there is generally something patient and gently -apologetic in the presence of a child, while one grown-up looking over -the shoulder is usually sufficient for disconcertment. - -I am sketching the Kirchestrasse. The name, however, is not visible -at my end of the street, and I make inquiry of the little girl who -for the last ten minutes has been standing quietly by my side. She -misunderstands me at first, and upon my sketch-block writes her own -name, “Charlotte Reseler.” There let it remain to add the value of a -memory to the drawing. - -On one such sketching expedition I was overtaken by a motor-waggon, -packed with German soldiers, straight from the front, who seemed -somewhat surprised to see me thus walking alone through the streets of -the town with a sketch-block under my arm. The waggon was decorated -with fir branches, while chalked upon the sides were such inscriptions -as “Nach der Heimat!” In the streets also were decorations, flags and -fir festoons, and garlands bearing the legend, “Willkommen!” One thing, -however, cannot be lifted from these streets, nor lightened into them, -and that is the dejection of defeat; the flush of victory. - -[Illustration: THE OLDEST HOUSE IN BEESKOW.] - -I was sketching what is, since the burning of the “Grüne Baum,” the -oldest house in Beeskow. I had hardly started, when the proprietor of -the shop in the lower part of the building came running over, and, -talking too rapidly for my entire comprehension, gave me to understand -at least that he desired something added to my sketch. He disappeared, -and in a few minutes there was unfurled from an upper window a great -chocolate and white flag of Brandenburg. A little boy had all this -while stood quietly by my side, save when, quite unbidden, he went -over, and placed himself by the front of the house, just at the proper -spot, that I might put him into the picture. - -He spoke now, but whether for my information or encouragement I know -not. - -“England,” said he, “hat gewonnen--Deutschland hat verloren!” - -I turned to look at him; he was but nine or ten, yet his voice sounded -so forlornly that to me, standing in this street of gathering dusk and -down-trodden snow, there came a sense of the awful tragedy of defeat! - - -A SOLDIERS’ BALL - -I cannot dance, but there is always a portion of the ball, at least, -to the beholder. Captain Sugrue and I had looked into the _Gasthaus_ -at the Railway Crossing. It was an animated scene which met our -eyes. The saloon was decorated with flags and festoons of red roses, -while about eighty couples, composed of German soldiers and their -sweethearts--these last with countenances of a colour to match the -decorations--danced on almost without cessation. Certainly there were -intervals, but these were of the shortest duration. The cavaliers would -approach, possibly with a short bow; more frequently the overture was -merely a smart tap upon the shoulder, and they were off. A little -orchestra of piano, violins and ’cello, was housed on a little stage, -upon which at one time there mounted the Master of the Ceremonies to -announce the finding of a lady’s girdle. - -Captain Sugrue and I also made various excursions afoot to townships -within a radius of ten or twelve miles from Beeskow. One of these -expeditions took us to the little village of Radinkendorf, where, after -some research, we found a very modest little _Gasthof_, where an old -woman undertook to supply us with coffee. - -Whilst we waited, and she worked her coffee-mill, she invited us in -motherly fashion into an inner room for warmth. Presently the coffee -was prepared, and while we sipped it, “Where do you live?” inquired the -aged woman. - -“Zu Beeskow,” I replied. “We are prisoners.” - -“Ah, das macht nichts,” said the dame kindly. “Das macht nichts. We -are all human. Warum ist der Krieg?” distressfully, and touching her -forehead with her finger as if in despair of a solution. “Why is the -war? Why? Why?” - -I could not tell her. - -On another occasion Tim and I footed it to the small town of Friedland, -which at one time, apparently, has had a Jewish population. As we sat -together in the dusk by the stove in the _Gasthaus_, there entered -a German soldier obviously fresh--but as obviously fatigued--from -the front. He approached, recognizing our calling, but anticipating -kinship, and was rather nonplussed on discovering our nationality. He -told us that for the last days his company had been retiring at the -rate of thirty kilometres a day, and leaving almost everything behind -them. - -Before returning we paid a visit to the _Rathaus_--in the Middle Ages -the Castle of the Herren von Köckeritz. With his walking-stick Tim -measured the walls--which are of amazing thickness--to the no small -surprise of several members of the clerical staff who appeared at the -window. - -[Illustration: MURILLO’S “IMMACULATE CONCEPTION OF THE VIRGIN.” Painted -by a French officer, prisoner of war, on the outer wall of the camp in -1915.] - -[Illustration: CAPTAIN TIM SUGRUE] - - - - -XII IN BERLIN DURING THE REVOLUTION - - -On a Friday evening of early December, my dear friend and -fellow-prisoner, Captain Tim Sugrue, and I conspired to take French -leave from the German prison _Lager_ and make a bolt for Berlin. Six -o’clock next morning found us at the station; a little diplomacy and we -had obtained tickets--singles only, as we must return by a different -route. - -From Beeskow to Berlin is a run of two hours and a half. For the latter -part of the journey we are with business men. There is unfolding of -newspapers, and we catch sight of occasional headlines. Street fighting -in Berlin last night; 14 killed, 50 wounded. Anything may be expected -to happen to-day--which means that anything may be expected to happen -to us. - -As we pass Karlshorst an obliging German directs our attention to it -as the German Derby; as we enter the environs of the town he has a -pointing hand for various features of interest. - -Bahnhof Friedrichstrasse. As we make our way out through the barriers -among the crowd, a tall, handsome gentleman and a young lady--equally -handsome--who is obviously his daughter, seem to convey to us a -telepathic smile of friendliness. In a few minutes we find them beside -us in the throng; there comes a whisper in not entirely perfect -English, “Thank God, Britain has won!”--and then they are gone. With -a quick understanding the girl collector at the barrier permits me to -retain my ticket as a souvenir. - -We have had no breakfast; we are hungry; we make so bold as to enter a -restaurant near the station. The waiter attends us, without apparent -curiosity, and as of long custom. For three marks we have a fried -haddock, some salad, and a cup of coffee. We could easily have paid -as much in London for as little--we could easily have paid more. For -proof of my veracity to future historians, I slip a menu card into my -pocket. - -From the instruction of a rather intelligent _Posten_ at Beeskow I have -taken the precaution to prepare a rough plan of the centre of this -most centralized of all great cities. We pass up Friedrichstrasse, and -at the point where it intersects Unter den Linden pause for a moment, -undecided as to left or right. It immediately becomes apparent that -we must not pause, even for a moment. We are already the centre of a -curious little crowd. - -“What can I do for you, Captain?” Hat in hand, a youth of seventeen or -eighteen approaches. We explain that we are simply up for the day, so -to speak, and as I can see what is obviously the _Dom_ on our left, we -make off at a sharp pace down the boulevard. - -The people have seen British officers before; it is only when it dawns -upon them that we are unaccompanied by a guard that their eyes begin to -open. There is no hint of hostility, however. Twice during the day we -are directly asked by civilians if we are in advance of a possible army -of occupation. - -The _Dom_ is the St. Paul’s of Berlin, but it is less impressive. The -organist is here, however, blowing what are doubtless his own very -real personal sorrows to the roof. As he passes into a fugal passage -I observe that, as at Beeskow, the pipes of the instrument have taken -flight. - -The picture gallery is closed to-day, but entrance is to be had to -the gallery of sculpture, and entrance we make. Tim is obviously -impatient; sculpturesque life is not sufficiently full-blooded for him. -Consequently I approach an attendant, and request that he discover to -us the most celebrated items of his collection. Whereupon is opening of -doors, unlocking of cabinets, up-pulling of blinds, and letting in of -more light generally. - -Most celebrated of all is a Grecian sculpture of 480 B.C., taken from -the Louvre in 1870. When I suggest, as delicately as may be, that there -is danger of it having to make further journeyings, the attendant -sighs, and softly replaces the covering curtains. Young Hercules -killing the snakes; a Badender Knabe; Göttin als Flora ergänzt; -Trauernde Dienerin vom Grabmal der Nikarete aus Athens; a few hasty -impressions--but how refreshing; white clouds in a summer sky--and Tim -has haled me forth into the streets. - -On the galleries, as on all similar public buildings, has been posted a -placard in vivid red, “Nationales Eigentum!” National Possession. - -It almost might seem as if in these penurious days for Germany, -inventory of the national possessions had been taken, and, having been -found to be but scanty, decision had been arrived at to hold fast to -what few poor things appeared to be real and tangible! Everywhere -also one finds vehement posters in red, inciting--to order! Pictured -soldiers, open-eyed with terror, open-mouthed with message, beating -alarum drums; sailors frantically waving flag signals of distress. - -Palaces, memorials, museums, bridges; with much that is to be admired, -Berlin seems so heavily encrusted and over-weighted with ponderous -decoration, as to convey an impression almost that the ground may -give way underfoot. That the solid foundations of things have given -way must be more than an impression with many of these drawn-faced, -dejected-looking passers-by. In the architecture there is a suggestion -of London, of Paris, of ancient Rome--a suggestion of ancient Rome -that is strongest, however, in a chill and deadly feeling of decline -and fall. On many of the buildings, and particularly on the Königl. -Marstall, is the markings of machine-gun fire--the guns have played -upon the windows quite apparently like fire hose for the putting out of -a difficult conflagration. On one of the palaces is stuck a sheet of -paper written upon boldly and carelessly with blue pencil: - -“FÜR EBERT UND HASSE.” - -_Nationales Eigentum_ with a vengeance! Whether they are using the -Royal suite for bureau or bedroom, or both, I know not. - -At all points, and indeed acting as police for the city, are soldiers -and sailors of the security service with white bands on their arms. -Large parties of these men patrol the streets, with a peculiar movement -in the column due to juxtaposition of the measured military step, and -the easy swing of the sailor. We would pass such companies with a -more or less unseeing eye, but we are continually assailed by cheery -greetings of “Wie geht’s?” and “Guten Morgen!” - -If we pause before a public building, a soldier or sailor immediately -approaches and asks if we desire to enter. In suchwise we get glimpse -of a number of the important public institutions, including the modern -and rather magnificent Royal Library. In the Royal Opera House, despite -the revolution, performances are announced for to-night of Verdi’s -“Otello,” for to-morrow (Sunday) night of “Rigoletto.” - -Some of the streets running off Unter den Linden bear marks of -yesterday’s fighting; some of them are still big with agitation; -groups and queues of gesticulating soldiers and civilians. We pass the -Legations and through the Brandenburger Tor into the Tiergarten, and -take leisurely view of the Reichstag, looking deserted and dejected, -and as if all the glory of debate had departed from it for ever. Here -is the Siegessäule and the Denkmal to Bismarck, Moltke, and the long -lineage of German warriors. Here also is the Hindenburg statue, looking -decidedly forlorn and rather foolish. Tim and I decide that it would -hardly be expedient for us to drive in a couple of nails! - - -LIEBKNECHT AND ROSA LUXEMBURG - -Now approaches a great procession of men and women, silent, sad, -slow-moving, sombre-hued save for the red banners which here and there -droop into the ranks and show through the trees like gouts of blood. -It is the Spartacusbundes Party, with Liebknecht and Rosa Luxemburg at -their head. They are doubtless come to mourn their dead of yesterday -and to demand redress and revenge. The procession winds its way through -the paths, and ultimately the speakers take up position beside the -statue of one of the Margraves, where Liebknecht’s father agitated -before him in less agitated times than these. - -Liebknecht speaks now, fiercely and with arms outflung and disturbed as -the leafless branches of the trees which form a background. There is a -wild scream and the crowd commences to stampede. The motor-waggons of -the Security Service of the Social Democratic Party are coming up, grim -and grinning with machine-guns. A terrified crowd is a very terrible -thing. - -My last experience of its blind whirl and bewilderment was when the -Germans shelled Béthune with big guns at long range on a market Monday -of August, 1916. We looked like having trouble now. “Through force of -habit they will doubtless take their sighting shots on us,” I said to -Tim. - -The soldiers have had orders, however, not to shoot unless they were -attacked, and the crowd gradually regains reassurance. Standing on the -outskirts of the throng, I bought an album of views of Berlin from a -poor little girl, and immediately after a similar collection from an -old woman equally poor and equally insistent. - -My last recollection of Liebknecht is of a gesticulating volcanic -figure, and of a livid face, with the wild eyes and the distorted mouth -of a Greek tragic mask. He was killed a few weeks later, within a few -hundred yards of where we heard him speak. - -We have during the day made incursions to various cafés, the -“Victoria,” and the one-time very cosmopolitan “Bauer.” In this last, -at just an hour before train time we are seated, at question whether, -our adventure having proved so successful so far, it be not financially -possible to carry it into another day. We decide that if we go fasting -during the morrow--a proceeding familiarity with which has rendered not -too fearful---we shall have purses sufficient to pay for a bed in the -hotel, and our return fares to Beeskow. - -We have been sitting meanwhile amid a cheerless concourse. The people -enter, take their refreshment without any appearance of refreshing, and -so depart. “See,” says a Russian, just released from Ruhleben, who has -entered into conversation, “how they are dazed; how they are dreaming! -All of Germany is as a great empty building!” - -The streets are crowded, and there is much excitement in the air. -Outside the Friedrichstrasse Station we make purchase of a series of -severe caricatures of the Kaiser, watched by quite a crowd who seem to -recognize the irony of the situation. We have no difficulty in getting -into a hotel, and we make no delay in getting into a very inviting bed. - -[Illustration: A CARICATURE OF THE KAISER. Bought in the streets of -Berlin.] - - -CAPTIVITY DE LUXE! - -Behold next morning two British _Gefangenen_ in the capital of Germany, -pillowed luxuriously in bed, pulling the bell-rope insistently, and, a -waiter appearing, making demands for an immediate serving of coffee. -Not only so, but having search made in the German Bradshaw for the hour -of departure of the train which was to convey us back to prison, and -the time at which we could attend a celebration of Mass. - -St. Hedewick is a great circular cathedral, not without a certain -impressiveness, particularly when crowded as it was on our arrival. The -service was in progress, and from the great organ came a sound like a -rushing mighty wind. When we emerged it was raining, and we decided to -call as invited on our Russian friend of yesterday. We made our way -to the address circuitously and laboriously, receiving direction--and -misdirection--from a sailor sentry, who left his post and accompanied -us for a ten-minutes’ march to put us on the proper car. “I have to -Hartlepool and Gateshead been,” he said. - -The Russian family were delighted to see us, and extended what -hospitalities they could, generously and graciously. They advised us to -leave Berlin by the afternoon train, as the revolutionary storm which -was obviously brewing was expected to burst blood-red that day. “I will -see you to the station, then I shall not leave the house again.” - -A nephew entering at this time, he undertook charge of us. As we stood -on the platform of the tram, there tore alongside of us a motor-car, -driven furiously, and full of soldiers and sailors who bombarded -us with copies of the revolutionary paper, the _Rote Fahne_ (Red -Flag), and with leaflets making call for a great mass meeting of the -Spartacusbund. - -I secured a copy. Among the named speakers were Rosa Luxemburg, -Liebknecht, Levi, Duncker.[1] - -Arrived at the Gorlitzer Station, we found that there would be no -train till evening, and at our guide’s suggestion we three drank -chocolate--at five marks for three cups, including a 50-pfennig tip -to the waiter--and listened to the melancholy music in the great café -which used to be called the “Piccadilly,” but which at the outbreak of -the war was renamed “Das Vaterland.” - -Returning to the station, we decided that our friend had best make -purchase of the tickets, to prevent possible conflict. - -While we waited there leapt upon us an aggressive young woman. - -“Are you English officers?” she demanded. - -“We are,” said we. - -“Thank God for that!” she cried. “I’m English too, though I’m married -to a German; and I love my country better than I love my husband, and -think I shall come home!” - -As this presented a marital problem too profound for our plumbing, we -made the pretext of our friend’s return with the tickets to beat a -hasty retreat. - -We arrived back in Beeskow about ten o’clock, rang the bell and -demanded admittance as good and dutiful _Gefangenen_. The _Posten_ -opened the gate, and when he beheld us twain he very decidedly and -indubitably closed a knowing eye! - - -FREEDOM AND FAREWELL - -_It has come at last!_ And now that it has at last come it has -not brought that immediate and amazing emotion of exultation -which we had imagined and anticipated so long. We are leaving for -_Home_--_To-day_--in a few hours! The brain receives the message, -grasps it apparently, and passes it on to the heart. The heart hears, -doubtless, yet it only says, soberly, even sadly, “Yes, that is so.” -Perhaps later, after many days; after months; in after-years, maybe, -there will be the full realization that we have come out of captivity, -and we shall be moved even to tears! - -Meanwhile, our boxes have to be filled; our cupboards have to be -emptied. My last recollection of the German soldiery--these legions of -a would-be modern Rome--is of their standing around while we piled into -their outspread arms our old pots and pans, boxes of broken biscuits, -and fragments of hardened bread. _Sic transit!_ - -Four o’clock. We pass through the gate of the old Bischofsschloss for -the last time. As we go down the street one of the officers shows me -the great padlock which he has carried off in his pocket as a souvenir! -If he had been a Samson, he would doubtless have preferred the gate -itself! - -The people stand at doors and windows and wave us farewell. Auf -Wiedersehen! Some of the passers-by insist on shaking us by the hand -and wishing us God-speed. We have become familiar to them--and not too -fearful--during the past five months. At the station there is something -of a crowd; as the train moves out there is something of a cheer. - -By nine o’clock we are once more in Berlin. We hire a whole squadron of -dilapidated hackney coaches and move in somewhat whimsical procession -for an hour through the already dark and almost deserted streets. - - * * * * * - -Warnemünde. We pass immediately from the train to the quay, where the -Danish ship _Prins Christian_ is lying with steam up. A Danish officer -is in waiting at the gangway, and as each officer answers to his name -he passes over the ship’s side--a free man once more. - -Lieut. Kruggel descends to the saloon to bid us good-bye. He shakes -hands all round. - -“Es ist vollbracht,” I said. - -“Es ist vollbracht,” he replied. - -And with a military salute, he turned, and, a suggestion of sadness in -the stoop of his shoulders, made his way up the companion ladder. - -THE END. - -FOOTNOTE: - -[1] Two days later, in the train for Copenhagen, I gave up my seat -willingly to a little boy with a face of great intellectuality, who -was obviously in a very delicate state of health. This was accepted -gratefully for the lad by the two Danish gentlemen who had him in -charge. They told me that he was the son of Herr Duncker, Professor -of Philosophy in the Berlin University, and one of the leaders of the -Spartacusbund; that they were taking him to Copenhagen, where his elder -brother already was, partly because he was suffering from malnutrition, -but principally for safety, neither his father nor mother expecting -to survive the Revolution. A sister of eighteen or nineteen stays -with her parents. The boy’s guardians also informed me that the lad, -who was only nine years old, already wrote verse which would not be -discreditable to a young man, and that his brother had in a few months -become the chief scholar in the Copenhagen school. - - * * * * * - -BALLADS OF BATTLE AND WORK-A-DAY WARRIORS - -By Lieut. JOSEPH LEE - -_SOME PRESS OPINIONS_ - -_The Times._--“There is real fibre and lifeblood in them, and they -never fail to hold the attention.” - -_The Spectator._--“Of the verse that has come straight from the -trenches, the BALLADS OF BATTLE are among the very best.” - -_Morning Post._--“There is staunch stuff in this little book of -verse from the trenches.... Here is a soldier and a poet and a -black-and-white artist of merit, and we wouldn’t exchange him for a -dozen professional versifiers who ... cannot write with a spade or draw -with a bayonet or blow martial music out of a mouth-organ.” - -_Manchester Guardian._--“There is no shadow of doubt but that Sergeant -Joseph Lee’s BALLADS OF BATTLE are the real thing.... In its way this -little book is one of the most striking publications of the war.” - -_Leeds Mercury._--“Many war poems have been published of late, but few -approach the BALLADS OF BATTLE in point of imagination, and vitality of -expression. There is a grim realism in the Sergeant’s poems, as well as -an intensity of vision that is at times almost startling.” - -_The Bookman._--“Sergeant Lee is in the succession, spiritual -descendant of those balladists and lyricists who have made the name of -Scotland bright.... As for the manner of the book, it is good--it is -very good, it is notable.” - -_Glasgow Herald._--“Sergeant Lee’s verses are as frank and straight -as we would wish a soldier-poet’s work to be; but behind all the -humour and grim realism there is a poet’s ideal humanised by a Scot’s -tenderness, and the serious poems are worthy of any company. Their -courageous cheerfulness is inspiring.” - -_The Tatler._--“A little volume which I shall always hope to keep. -Mostly these vivid little poems were composed well within the firing -line; all of them are haunting--some because of their jocular -soldier-spirit, others for their wonderful realization of the silent -tragedy of war.” - -_Sheffield Telegraph._--“A human, throbbing thing from the trenches. It -strikes vibrant notes of laughter and tears; now it weeps, and now it -is full of the exuberant joy of life; it is a living document authentic -and deep.” - - * * * * * - -Transcriber’s Notes: - -The one footnote has been moved to the end of the text and relabeled. - -Illustrations have been moved to paragraph breaks near where they are -mentioned. - -Punctuation has been made consistent. - -Variations in spelling and hyphenation were retained as they appear in -the original publication, except that obvious typos have been corrected. - -Changes have been made as follows: - -p. 83: “untolerable” changed to “intolerable” (an intolerable outrage) - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Captive at Carlsruhe and Other -German Prison Camps, by Joseph Lee - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CAPTIVE AT CARLSRUHE *** - -***** This file should be named 51222-0.txt or 51222-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/2/2/51222/ - -Produced by MWS, Craig Kirkwood, and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive.) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: A Captive at Carlsruhe and Other German Prison Camps - -Author: Joseph Lee - -Release Date: February 15, 2016 [EBook #51222] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CAPTIVE AT CARLSRUHE *** - - - - -Produced by MWS, Craig Kirkwood, and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive.) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 581px;"> -<img id="coverpage" src="images/i_cover.jpg" width="581" height="850" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p id="half-title">A CAPTIVE AT CARLSRUHE</p> - -<div class="boxit1"> -<em>BY THE SAME AUTHOR</em> -</div> -<div class="boxit2" style="margin-bottom:4em"> -BALLADS OF BATTLE<br /> -<br /> -WORK-A-DAY WARRIORS<br /> -<br /> -Each 3<em>s.</em> 6<em>d.</em> net.<br /> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span></p> - -<div id="Fig_Frontispiece" class="figcenter" style="width: 439px;"> -<img src="images/i_frontis.jpg" width="439" height="650" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">A CORNER OF CARLSRUHE CAMP</p></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 436px;"> -<img src="images/i_titlepage.jpg" width="436" height="650" alt="" /> -</div> - - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> - -<h1>A CAPTIVE AT CARLSRUHE<br /><span class="largefont">AND OTHER GERMAN PRISON CAMPS</span></h1> - - -<p class="center xlargefont">BY JOSEPH LEE</p> - -<p class="center" style="margin-bottom:3em">WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS BY THE AUTHOR -</p> - -<div class="boxittitlepage"> -“Now you shall have no worse prison than -my chamber, nor jailer than myself” -</div> - - -<p class="center" style="margin-top:3em"> -LONDON: JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD<br /> -NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY. MCMXX</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span></p> - -<p class="center smallfont">WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, LONDON AND BECCLES, ENGLAND</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p> - -<p class="center">TO</p> - -<div class="boxittitlepage" style="text-align:justify">ALL MY FELLOWS IN MISFORTUNE -OF MY OWN KIN AND OF THE ALLIED -COUNTRIES WHOSE VARIED COMPANIONSHIP -HELPED TO LIGHTEN -MY MANY DAYS OF CAPTIVITY</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CONTENTS</h2> - -<div class="center"> -<table class="toc" border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> -<tr><td class="tocchapterno" colspan="2">PART I<br />CAUDRY—LE CATEAU—CARLSRUHE</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tocchapterno" colspan="2">I</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle"></td><td class="tocpage">PAGE</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">The first day—The search—Letters of divorcement—A reading -of the Pickwickians—Fellows in misfortune—A sculptor—A -Sappho—The bell for the dead—Sedan—The vulture</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tocchapterno" colspan="2">II</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Carlsruhe camp—Crumbs from the rich man’s table—Tea -with Colonel Turano—Shamrock for dinner!—First letters -and parcels—A Nazarite—Christmas at Carlsruhe—Sketching -the Commandant</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Page_29">29</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tocchapterno" colspan="2">III</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Funeral of a prisoner of war at Carlsruhe—First freedom for -a year—In the streets—A wreath from the Grand Duchess -of Baden—The Rev. Mr. Flad—A lecture on Abyssinia—A -black mood</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tocchapterno" colspan="2">IV</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Entertainment in exile—The camp theatre—“Asile de -Nuit”—Scene-painter, scene-shifter, poster-artist, actor, -prompter, “noises-off,” and playwright—“A Chelsea -Christmas Eve”—“A Venetian Vignette”—A nightingale -“off”—“How he Lied to her Husband”—“The -Rising of the Moon”—“The Homeland”</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tocchapterno" colspan="2">V<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Victims of the cruiser <em>Wolf</em>—Suicide of a Japanese captain—“In -the dark and among the ice”—A bottle message—Clinging -to office—The Debating Society—The vines and -vineyards of France—“Happy in all things—saving -these bonds!”—A straining of the Entente—A “stirring -time”—A voluntary fast!</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Page_80">80</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tocchapterno" colspan="2">VI</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Air raids—British airmen brought down—Dust to dust—An -inimitable imitator—Songs from Coimbra—A German -bombardment—March, 1918—The bath attendant—Our -orderlies—Gustav—Imprisonment “for revolt”</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Page_96">96</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tocchapterno" colspan="2">VII</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Carlsruhe at its kindliest—The chestnut trees—Aspen and -poplar—The new hut—“Torrents of Spring!”—Linguistic -efforts—A surprise to Mother—A dinner with the Italians—The -last day in Carlsruhe</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Page_113">113</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tocchapterno" colspan="2">PART II<br />BEESKOW—BERLIN</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tocchapterno" colspan="2">VIII</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">The journey—“A Roman holiday”—Our new quarters—The -old tower—The <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Kantine</i> and the catering—“Much reading——”—“East -Lynne,” by Carlyle!—Our walks -abroad—The stork tower—Birds of a feather</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Page_131">131</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tocchapterno" colspan="2">IX</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Escapes and escapades—“<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Achtung!</i>”—The flight that failed—Confinement -in the “Tower”—Massacre of the innocents—“Patience” -and impatience—Ragging the Commandant—“His -Excellency wishes”</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tocchapterno" colspan="2">X<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">The <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Marienkirche</i>—Organ pipes for munitions—Madame -Reinl—For the dead—A Polish baptism—Adventures afoot—“<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Kuchen!</i>”—The -ancient road-mender—“In since -Mons!”</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Page_170">170</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tocchapterno" colspan="2">XI</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">The Revolution—“<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Bientôt la paix!</i>”—A smuggled copy of -The Times—Abdication of the Kaiser—The passing of the -Commandant—The Red Flag is flown—Latitudes and -liberties—Sketching in the streets—“<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Nach der Heimat!</i>”—A -soldiers’ ball—“<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Warum ist der Krieg?</i>”—Murillo’s -“Immaculate Conception”</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Page_185">185</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tocchapterno" colspan="2">XII</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">In Berlin during the Revolution—“Thank God, Britain has -won!”—The <em>Dom</em> and the Galleries—The Palace—“<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Für -Ebert und Hasse!</i>”—The Hindenburg statue—Liebknecht -and Rosa Luxemburg—The machine-gun waggons come -up—Caricatures of the Kaiser—Captivity de luxe!—“Are -you English officers?”—Freedom—“<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Es ist vollbracht!</i>”</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Page_203">203</a></td></tr> -</table></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p> - -<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> - -<div class="center"> -<table class="toc" border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> -<tr><td class="toctitle"></td><td class="tocpage">PAGE</td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">A Corner of Carlsruhe Camp</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_Frontispiece"><em>Frontispiece</em></a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Fellows in Misfortune</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_15">15</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">A Reading of the Pickwickians</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_21">21</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">A Sculptor</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_23">23</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">The Unter-Offizier</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_25">25</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Christmas Day at Carlsruhe</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_28">28</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Arrival of the Parcel Cart</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_29">29</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">The Chapel at Carlsruhe</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_31">31</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Col. Albert Turano</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_33">33</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">The Camp Commandant at Carlsruhe</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_38">38</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">A Game of Cards</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_41">41</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Funeral of a British Prisoner of War</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_44">44</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">A Serbian Colonel</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_45">45</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">The Catholic Priest</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_51">51</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">The Rev. Mr. Flad</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_52">52</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">An Italian Major of Mountain Artillery</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_56">56</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Playbill, “The Rising of the Moon”</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_58">58</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Our Orchestra</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_59">59</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">A Carlsruhe Concert Programme</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_62">62</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">“A Chelsea Christmas Eve”</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_64">64</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">“A Venetian Vignette”</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_70">70</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">“How He Lied to Her Husband.” Playbill</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_72">72</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">“J’invite le Colonel.” Playbill</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_73">73</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">One of our Orchestra</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_79">79</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Engineer of the “Hitachi Maru”</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_80">80</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Captain of the “Tarantella”</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_84">84</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">A Serbian Officer Prisoner</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_86">86</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">A Rehearsal</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_88">88</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Twice Wounded</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_95">95</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Orderly Hanet, “Le Père Noël”</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_96">96</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Funeral of Two British Aviators</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_100">100</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Captain Teixeira</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_104">104</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Orderly Toulon, Chasseur Alpini</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_110">110</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">The two Serbian Colonels take the Sun</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_112">112</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Lt. Bertolotti</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_113">113</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Lt. Caruso</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_116">116</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Lt. Visco</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_119">119</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Lt. Lazarri</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_121">121</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Maggiore Tuzzi</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_125">125</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">The “Altes Amt,” Beeskow Lager</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_130">130</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">The Outer Walls of Beeskow Lager</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_131">131</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">The Prison Camp at Beeskow: An Audience with the Commandant</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_135">135</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">The Old Tower, Beeskow</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_138">138</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Herr Solomon, the Kantine Keeper</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_141">141</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">“Only One Book!”</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_142">142</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">The Stork Tower, Beeskow</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_147">147</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Prisoners All</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_149">149</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">The Prison Gateway</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_152">152</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">The Marienkirche, Beeskow</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_156">156</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">The Late Lieut. Robinson, V.C.</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_159">159</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Caricature of the Camp Commandant</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_165">165</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Narrow Alley, Beeskow</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_169">169</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Service for the Dead</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_175">175</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Old Inn at Beeskow, now burned down</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_179">179</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">“In since Mons!”</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_183">183</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Kirchestrasse, Beeskow</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_184">184</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">The Oldest House in Beeskow</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_196">196</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Murillo’s “Immaculate Conception of the Virgin.” (<em>Painted -by a French officer, prisoner of war, on the outer wall of -the camp</em>)</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_200">200</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">Captain Tim Sugrue</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_202">202</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="toctitle">A Caricature of the Kaiser. (<em>Bought in the streets of Berlin -during the Revolution</em>)</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Fig_213">213</a></td></tr> -</table></div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p> - -<p class="center xxlargefont">PART I</p> -<p class="center xlargefont">CAUDRY—LE CATEAU—CARLSRUHE</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p> - -<p class="center xxlargefont">A<br />CAPTIVE AT CARLSRUHE</p> - -<div class="center"> -<div id="Fig_15" class="figcenter inlinecolumna" style="width: 169px;"> -<img src="images/i_015a.jpg" width="169" height="285" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">Cap improvized from<br />an aviator’s boot.</p> -</div></div> - -<div class="figcenter inlinecolumnb" style="width: 285px"> -<img src="images/i_015b.jpg" width="191" height="285" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">A modern Icarus.</p> -</div></div> - -<div class="figcenter inlinecolumna" style="width: 191px;"> -<img src="images/i_015c.jpg" width="191" height="285" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">Chausseur à pied.</p> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="center caption">FELLOWS IN MISFORTUNE.</p> - -<h2 class="no-break">I<br /><span class="smcap">The First Day</span></h2> - - -<p class="dropcap">As we limped and stumbled into Caudry -in the dusk we presented a very -disturbing spectacle.</p> - -<p>Two young French women stood at a -cottage door, and, when our doleful procession -passed, one of them flung herself into -her sister’s arms in a paroxysm of grief.</p> - -<p>The good folk of the town would have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> -slipped bread into our hands, but our German -guards pressed them back with their rifles. -Bayonets and rifle butts could not prevent -them, however, from flinging us words -of cheer and encouragement. “<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Courage! -Bonne chance! Bonne nuit!</i>”</p> - -<p>How illogical is war! This very morning, -as we entered the first village in which German -troops were billeted, we found them -waiting to serve us, with outset tables on -which were clean glasses and pitchers of clear -water! Earlier, while the enemy attack was -still developing, I observed a German—himself -at the charge, and with at his elbow -Death, the equal foeman of all who fight—wave -a reassuring hand to a British soldier -prisoner who was showing signs of distress.</p> - -<p>So in the dark we came to a grim factory, -into which we were shepherded for the night. -We had had nothing to eat all day; we were -to have nothing to eat now. There was, -however, an issuing of bowls of what, for -lack of a better name—or of a worse—was -designated coffee.</p> - -<p>There was now also to be a search, and a -giving up of all papers, knives, razors, or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> -other steel instruments—bare bodkins by -which we might be disposed to seek redress, -relief, or release. Search had already been -made at a German headquarters within a -few miles of the line. Prior to which, as -we marched down heavily flanked by our -guards, I had, with surreptitious hand thrust -into my tunic pocket, succeeded in tearing -up and scattering over the land, sundry -military papers, and the proof sheets of a -book of mine in which were some very complimentary -references to the Kaiser. Here -it was also that a wounded fellow-officer, -giving up his letters, and asking me to explain -that two from his wife he had not yet -read, the gnarled old German officer handed -them back with a salute.</p> - -<p>It was difficult to parade the men for -search now. They raised themselves on an -elbow or sat up and endeavoured to shake -the sleep from their eyes, and then dropped -heavily back upon the floor again. Ultimately -they were herded to one end of the -factory, from which they emerged in file, -dropping as they passed their poor, precious -epistolatory possessions—letters with crosses<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> -and baby kisses—into an outstretched sack. -One man approached me and asked that he -might retain papers, including a written -confession, necessary to divorce proceedings -against his wife. I put the case to the -German officer; he put it to his military -conscience, and decided. Yes, they might be -retained.</p> - -<p>That first night I slept without dreaming; -it was when I awoke that I appeared to be -in a dream.</p> - -<p>At noon next day I received the first -meal of which I had partaken for the last -forty-eight hours. It consisted of a mess of -beans and potatoes, which I, being then in -fit state to sympathize entirely with Esau, -found more than palatable. Later, in the -afternoon, when a red sword lay across the -western sky, we marched to Le Cateau. -Here there was a separating of sheep from -goats, the senior officers being housed somewhere -with more or less of comfort, doubtless, -while all below the rank of Captain were -packed into another discarded factory, whose -only production for some time to come -seemed likely to be human misery.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p> - -<p>Followed four melancholy and miserable -days, whose passing was not to be measured -by figures on a dial or dates upon a calendar, -but by the clamour of appetites unappeased; -by the entry of our dole of bread and our -basin of skilly. In our waking hours we -discussed only food; by night we dreamed of -monumental menus displayed on table-covers -of snowy whiteness. Scenting a possible -profit, a German soldier insinuated into the -camp and put up for auction some half-dozen -tins of sardines, to the provocation -almost of a riot.</p> - -<p>Our billets were dirty and verminous. -Properly organized and harnessed there was -a sufficiency of performance and activity in -the fleas to have supplied the motive power -to the whole factory! We could not shave, -because we had no soap nor steel; we could -not wash, because the water was frozen in -the pump, and icicles hung by the wall.</p> - -<p>If there was little to eat there was even -less to read, the only literature in the whole -company consisting of one Testament and -one Book of Common Prayer, and these -being in continual demand.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p> - -<p>On the fifth day there came a break in -the monotony, some sixteen of us being removed -to the headquarters, where had been -an examination on our arrival. As we waited -for admittance a few French folk gathered -around, and two girls from a house opposite -made efforts at conversation. Our guards -menaced them not too seriously with their -bayonets, whereupon they scampered for -their house and slammed the door. In a few -minutes the door was cautiously opened again; -there was a ripple of laughter, and two mischievous -faces, with a mocking grimace for -the Army of Occupation, appeared round the -post.</p> - -<p>In our new quarters eight of us occupied -one room. Report had it that the walls, -besides various pieces of pendent paper, had -ears, a dictaphone being supposedly secreted -on the premises. That being so, the Germans -are never likely to have heard much -that was good of themselves.</p> - -<div id="Fig_21" class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> -<img src="images/i_021.jpg" width="600" height="454" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">A READING OF THE PICKWICKIANS.</p></div> -</div> - -<p>A search disclosed treasure in the shape -of sundry parts of the Pickwick Papers, not -certainly the famous original parts in their -green—shall we say their evergreen covers?—but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> -sections devised for the simultaneous -satisfying of a number of readers. These -parts we carefully gathered together, when -it was discovered that the immortal transactions -began with the celebrated bachelor -supper given by Mr. Bob Sawyer at his -lodgings in Lant Street, in the Borough. -Here, indeed, was matter to cause gastronomic -agitation in starving men! Yet, need<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> -we, then, go supperless to bed? Shall we -not also become Pickwickians, and, constituting -ourselves members of the Club, drop -in upon the party as not entirely unwelcome -guests? And so I read until “lights out” -sent us perforce to bed.</p> - -<p>Recalling that it was my birthday, and -by way of a gift to myself, I succeeded in -persuading the <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Unteroffizier</i> to purchase for -me a sketch-book and pencils, with which I -amused myself and comrades by a series of -portrait studies of more or less veracity. -One of these my fellows in misfortune was -a sculptor who had exhibited at the R.A., -and who now exhibited a photograph of one -of his works—a statue of Sappho—which he -carried in his pocket. We two decided to -hang together—unless we were shot separately—as -we had heard amazing reports of ateliers -to be secured in certain <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Läger</i> by humble -followers of the arts graphic and plastic.</p> - -<p>During all the days of our stay here, and -precisely at four o’clock of the afternoon, -a bell tolled solemnly from the church under -whose shadow we lay. It was for the burial -of German soldiers killed at Cambrai.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p> - -<p>Early on a Sunday morning, -while the stars still shivered in -a frosty sky, we set out to -entrain for Carlsruhe, very -optimistically with one day’s -rations in our pouches, and -that a day’s rations which -would have shown meagre as -the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">hors-d’œuvre</i> of an ordinary -meal. We arrived at Carlsruhe on the -evening of Tuesday, and in the interim would -probably have succumbed to starvation for -lack of food, if we had not been in a state of -suspended animation owing to the cold.</p> - -<div id="Fig_23" class="figright" style="width: 150px;"> -<img src="images/i_023.jpg" width="150" height="223" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">A SCULPTOR.</p></div> -</div> - -<p>Only one incident of that journey do I -desire to recall. In the middle of the night -I awoke shiveringly from a fitful sleep to -find that the train had come to a stop in -a large station. I glanced idly from the -window, and an arc lamp lit up a great signboard, -on which was painted in large ominous -letters the one word—SEDAN.</p> - -<p>From Carlsruhe Station we passed through -streets not uninteresting architecturally, and -without exciting undue curiosity or comment, -until we came to the Europäisches Hotel.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> -This to famished men seemed to suggest -something at least of hopeful hospitalities, -but, on entering, the place was obviously as -barren of festivity as a Government Board -room. We shall have food to eat at five -o’clock. At five we wept that it had not -come; at six, at seven. We wept even more -when at eight it actually arrived.</p> - -<p>I observed then, and on subsequent occasions, -that after a meal, myself and Marsden -(who, as befits a good sculptor, has fashioned -for himself a frame of fine proportion) were -inclined to emerge from a more or less -languorous state and kick up our heels like -young colts.</p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">The Vulture</span></h3> - -<p>We discovered that by climbing on to -the frame of the iron bedstead, and clutching -perilously at the ventilating portion of the -window in our cell, we could just succeed in -gaining a glimpse of the street. To the right -we seemed to be in the neighbourhood of a -zoological garden or an aviary of some -dimension. The only inhabitant of the cages -visible to us, however, was a large vulture,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> -which sat there day after day, an unchanging -picture of sullenness and stolidity. I wondered -if perchance it scented -or visioned the red fields which -lay not so many miles away.</p> - -<p>And so the days passed. -After considerable agitation I -succeeded in securing a few -volumes of the Tauchnitz -edition, amongst them Stevenson’s -“The Master of Ballantrae.” -This possibly, however, -induced in me a greater home-sickness for -Scotland than ever.</p> - -<div id="Fig_25" class="figright" style="width: 150px;"> -<img src="images/i_025.jpg" width="150" height="258" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">THE UNTEROFFIZIER.</p></div> -</div> - -<p>Finding a draught-board to our hand outlined -upon the table, and making counters -of paper white and blue, we four prisoners on -a day played for the championship of the cell -and a superadded stake of four thin slices -of bread. I won somewhat easily, being a -Scotsman, and something of a player as a -boy; indeed, heaven forgive me! it was I -who suggested the game. As victor, however, -I was seized with compassion and -compunction, so that, while I retained the -title, I returned to each man his share of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> -that staff of life, on which, it has to be confessed, -we were having to lean somewhat -heavily.</p> - -<p>At last came the order that we were to -shift from the hotel to the <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Offizier kriegsgefangenenlager</i>. -Whereupon, clapping my -steel helmet upon my head, and thrusting -my uneaten morsel of bread into one of my -tunic pockets, I was ready for the road.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p> - -<div id="Fig_28" class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> -<img src="images/i_028.jpg" width="600" height="450" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">CHRISTMAS DAY AT CARLSRUHE.</p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p> - -<div id="Fig_29" class="figcenter" style="width: 285px;"> -<img src="images/i_029.jpg" width="285" height="325" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">ARRIVAL OF THE PARCEL CART.</p></div> -</div> - - -<h2 class="no-break">II<br /><span class="smcap">Life at Carlsruhe Lager</span></h2> - - -<p class="dropcap">As we passed a sentry and turned in -between high palisades heavily fortified -by barbed wire, I had a feeling -of disappointment, if not of dismay. I -had hoped to live more closely to Nature, -whereas Carlsruhe Camp lay in a central part -of the town, and was overlooked at almost -every point by high buildings, hotels, restaurants, -and mansions. The few trees were, -of course, meantime bare of leaves, and there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> -were no traces of grass in the long stretches -of court between the huts.</p> - -<p>In the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">salon d’appel</i> we were searched. -My sketch-book was scrutinized, critically, -perhaps, but not uncharitably, and I was -permitted to keep it. Of what other poor -possessions I now had, only my signalling -whistle was taken.</p> - -<p>Dinner that night consisted of soup, followed -by <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Sauerkraut</i>. Breakfast next morning, -in my case, consisted of a cold shower -bath and anticipations of lunch at midday!</p> - -<p>There was a little chapel at Carlsruhe -used alternately and harmoniously by -English Churchmen, Roman Catholics, and -Nonconformists. While we awaited service -on this first morning of my arrival there -was a distribution of biscuits—briquettes of -bread really—which were received from their -Government by the French officer and orderly -prisoners at the rate of seventy per man per -week; a plentitude which permitted of the -orderlies trading them among the less-favoured -British officers at anything from fifty pfennig -to a mark each.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p> - -<div id="Fig_31" class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> -<img src="images/i_031.jpg" width="600" height="432" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">THE CHAPEL AT CARLSRUHE.</p></div> -</div> - -<p>On the present occasion, when the baskets<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> -had been carried away, a few crumbs and -sweepings of the biscuits were left upon the -floor, while we stood around with our backs -to the wall and our hands in our pockets. -Presently one prisoner put forth an apparently -accidental foot, which covered probably -the largest of the pieces. Then, somewhat -shamefacedly, he stooped and picked it up. -Upon which signal, with one accord, and with -as close a resemblance to a flock of city -sparrows as anything I ever saw, we swooped -down upon the fragments. For my share I -succeeded in securing two pieces of quite -half an inch square!</p> - -<p>Those were indeed hungry days, when a -man’s wealth was not to be calculated by -the amount standing to his credit at Messrs. -Cox & Co.’s, or even by the abundance of his -blankets, but by the number of French -biscuits which he had succeeded in securing. -Here of all places in the world might one see -a Brigadier-General crossing the square carefully -balancing a mess of pork and beans -upon a plate, or nursing the contents of a tin -of sardines upon a saucer!</p> - -<p>To be invited to tea by a friendly and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> -more flourishing mess was the greatest -beatitude that could befall a man. In -these cases of ceremonious -call the -guest always carried -his own crockery and -cutlery.</p> - -<div id="Fig_33" class="figright" style="width: 300px;"> -<img src="images/i_033.jpg" width="300" height="334" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">COL. ALBERT TURANO, -ARTIGLIERIA ITALIANO.</p></div> -</div> - -<p>One such pleasant -refection, with Col. -Albert Turano, Artiglieria -Italiano, lingers -very pleasantly in my -memory. In view of -his rank the Colonel occupied alone a small -chamber in one of the huts. On the wall -was a crucifix, and a few reproductions of -religious paintings and decorations by the -Danish artist, Joakim Skovgaard. A shelf -of Italian books, a deal table, two stools, and -an iron bedstead, with above it a plant, to -be unnamed by me, but which looked as if -it might develop into a tree, in a flower-pot -so tiny that it seemed as if it might have -done service as a thimble. The Colonel prepared -the coffee with great care, and served -it with much courtliness. The entire contents<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> -of his larder consisted of a few fragments of -hard French biscuits. These we steeped in -the coffee, and of this quite delectable sop -partook with much contentment.</p> - -<p>In talk we turned over the art treasures -of Venice and Florence, and when I referred -to Dante, and particularly to the episode of -Paolo and Francesca, the Colonel produced -from his breast pocket a little marked copy -of the “Divina Commedia,” in a chamois-leather -case, which he had carried through -the campaign, and read me the passage in -Italian. Followed cigarettes, and a joint -vow that if we foregathered in London our -dinner at the Trocadero would be completed -by just such a cup of coffee—<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">à la</i> Carlsruhe! -Some time later, while he was being changed -to another camp, the gallant Colonel succeeded -in effecting his escape.</p> - -<p>In retrospect the menu at Carlsruhe seems -to have consisted of interminable plates of -soup, followed by sauerkraut and anæmic -potatoes. No effort was made—nor was -there any need—to stimulate our appetites -by surprise dishes or kickshaws; although -on St. Patrick’s Day a wild rumour went<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> -round the camp that we were to have boiled -shamrock for dinner! Some officers could -achieve five plates of soup at a meal; one -could rarely venture to brave the day on less -than three. On Thursdays and Sundays -there was a morsel of meat—the veriest -opening and immediate closing of the lid of -the flesh pot, as it were. On certain days, -apples—for which we lined up in a queue—were -to be bought at the <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Kantine</i> at one -mark per pound. Sardines cost five to six -marks a tin; other prices were in proportion.</p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">First Letters and Parcels</span></h3> - -<p>The coming of one’s first letter was a -memorable event in camp life. The immediate -impulse was to retire with it to the -remotest corner of the court—as a dog with -a bone, or a lover with a <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">billet-doux</i>—and -there devour it, and for days after one was -continually impelled to a re-perusal. A -Portuguese officer who had made a vow, -Nazarite-wise, not to shave or cut his hair -until such time as news would come from -the far country, was three and a half months<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> -in camp before he received his first letter. -Then, amid loud laughter and cries of -“<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Barbier! Barbier!</i>” he departed with the -precious epistle in his hand, and later in the -day made his appearance, looking not unlike -a shorn lamb!</p> - -<p>The arrival of the first parcel was an event -of even more general interest and import. -If it were a clothing parcel it would contain -a change of raiment, as grateful and as welcome -as the wedding garment. If it were a -food parcel it enabled you to extend pleasant -hospitalities in more necessitous directions—one -of the privileges and compensations of -camp life.</p> - -<p>You pass your bread ration to the recently -arrived officer who is your neighbour at -dinner. “Do you care to have this bread, -old chap? I have plenty.” He is an Australian, -and there is considerably over six -foot of him to be fed. He gives a gulp and -a gasp now. “My God,” he says, “I thought -I wasn’t to be able to say ‘Yes’ quick -enough!”</p> - -<p>I received my first parcel after two -months of captivity. One officer, after the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> -lapse of many barren moons, received twenty-six -packets—an entire waggon load—at one -time! Give me neither poverty nor riches!</p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">Christmas at Carlsruhe</span></h3> - -<p>On Christmas Day, the Germans, if they -could not give us peace on earth, probably -made effort at an expression of goodwill even -to <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Gefangenen</i>! Dinner, at all events, consisted -of soup, potatoes, an ounce or two of -meat, one pound of eating apples, and a -quarter of a litre of red wine—decidedly a -red <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">litre</i> day! Christmas trees were raised -and decorated in the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">salon d’appel</i>; the -Camp Commandant gave gifts to all the -orderlies; a raffle, organized by the French -officers, took place, when I was so fortunate -as to secure a bar of chocolate, and there was -a further distribution of apples at night, the -gifts of La Croix Rouge, Geneva. I have -probably not eaten on one day so many -apples of uncertain ripeness since last I -robbed an orchard as a boy.</p> - -<p>In the chapel the Lieutenant—a layman—who -customarily took the Anglican services,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> -read the hymn from Milton’s “Ode on the -Morning of Christ’s Nativity,” and several -carols were sung. I may say that all such -services concluded with the lusty singing of -a verse of “God Save the King.”</p> - -<div id="Fig_38" class="figcenter" style="width: 560px;"> -<img src="images/i_038.jpg" width="560" height="650" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">THE CAMP COMMANDANT.</p></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p> - -<p>Roll-call in the morning was at ten; in -the evening at 8.45; lights out at nine -o’clock. I shared a hut with seven other -officers, three of them aviators, who had all, -like Lucifer, son of the morning, fallen to -earth violently and from varying altitudes. -On New Year’s Eve we blanketed our windows, -kept lights burning, and at midnight -drank a modest glass of port to the coming -year.</p> - -<p>Our scale of dietary not conducing to -exuberance of spirits, or urging to violent -exercises, most of the officers spent a considerable -part of these short winter days in -reading or in card-playing. As unofficial -limner to the very cosmopolitan camp, my -pencil was kept continually sharpened in -effort to capture the varying characteristics -of some seventeen different nationalities.</p> - -<p>One day I found the Commandant looking -over my shoulder. He was keenly interested, -suggested that he might give me a -sitting, and reverted several times to the -question of price. Finally I hinted that -while I could not dream of accepting monetary -recompense, he could, if he cared to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> -so complaisant, connive at my escape by way -of part payment!</p> - -<p>No one, I believe, ever escaped from Carlsruhe -Camp, though various efforts were -made by tunnelling. To make exit by a -more direct method three high palisades and -barbed wire fences had to be scaled, and -that in almost certain view of numerous -sentries without and within. Sitting by the -barbed wire in a remote part of the court, a -<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Posten</i> outside would open a little slit in the -paling and turn upon me an eye which was -alone visible, rolling round watchfully, and -with much of the effect of the Eye Omnipotent -with which we were awed in boyish -days.</p> - -<p>We saw and heard little of the life of the -surrounding town. Now and then a housemaid -would shake a cover or a cushion from -a window in one of the overlooking houses, -or the <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Hausfrau</i> herself might gaze gloomily -forth. One night after we had retired to bed, -and certainly at an hour not far from midnight, -we heard what appeared to be a quartette -of girls singing outside in the street. We -flung open the windows and listened with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> -vast pleasure to a very beautiful rendering -of what may have been an Easter hymn; -possibly a more pagan chant to the Goddess -of Love.</p> - -<div id="Fig_41" class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> -<img src="images/i_041.jpg" width="600" height="514" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">A GAME OF CARDS.</p></div> -</div> - -<p>Sometimes, of an afternoon, one would -hear from the other side of the palisade the -sound of marching men—a sound as seemingly -resolute and relentless as the progression of -Fate. Sometimes came the playful and -laughing cry of a little child. One day as -I read and mused in “Rotten Row,” two -schoolboys, doubtless home for the week-end, -and at all events perched holiday-wise -upon the roof of an hotel, made their presence -known to me in pleasant and friendly fashion<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> -by a cheerful whistle. Having attracted my -attention, they proceeded with true boyish -humour and with eloquent turnings of the -head, to invite me to a companionship upon -the roof!</p> - -<p>On a June evening, walking with a French -Commandant, and endeavouring to recount -to him in French one of the fables of La -Fontaine, we were brought to a pause by -what was a wistful picture to us at one of -the overlooking windows—a father, a mother, -and sweet little girl, enjoying the quiet -twilight hour together. The Commandant, -when we had resumed our walk—which we -did whenever we were discovered—confided -to me that he had three boys, of ages gently -graduated, and that the youngest, Michael, -was very sad because he had not seen his -father for so long a time.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p> - -<div id="Fig_44" class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> -<img src="images/i_044.jpg" width="600" height="384" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">FUNERAL OF A PRISONER OF WAR</p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p> - -<div id="Fig_45" class="figcenter" style="width: 230px;"> -<img src="images/i_045.jpg" width="230" height="325" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">A SERBIAN COLONEL.</p></div> -</div> - - -<h2 class="no-break">III<br /><span class="smcap">Funeral of a Prisoner of War</span></h2> - - -<p class="dropcap">One morning at roll-call the German -N.C.O. all unwittingly called, “Captain -H——!” Then more insistently, -“Captain H——!” And still again.</p> - -<p>There was no reply. Captain H—— had -died in hospital the night before of pneumonia, -contracted through exposure when -his ship was torpedoed.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p> - -<p>I was appointed to represent our hut at -the funeral. That morning, immediately -after breakfast, something of a stir was to be -observed about the camp, and presently -the officers who had been elected to attend -the funeral began to assemble in front of -the Commandant’s hut.</p> - -<p>Many of the uniforms presented considerable -compromise; several of us, myself included, -who had been taken in shrapnel helmets -and trench equipment, having borrowed Sam -Browne belts and aviators’ caps. The Serbian -Colonels, however, were decidedly <em>brave</em>, if -slightly bizarre, in their brand-new brown -greatcoats, with crimson facings, lapels and -linings, their horned caps and general appearance -conveying to my mind a somewhat -whimsical impression of armed, aggressive, -and mail-sheathed beetles. The Italian Major -of mountain artillery was there with a slanting -feather in his cap, while the Commandant -himself was resplendently martial in his -spiked helmet, with, for decoration, the Iron -Cross and, I think, l’Aigle Noir.</p> - -<p>Three or four great wreaths, sombre with -fir branches and bay, and bearing coloured<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> -streamers, are allocated among the various -nationalities represented, and forming up -more or less in processional order, the party, -followed by the somewhat envious gaze of -those who remain behind, moves towards -the gateway. Some of our number have -not been outside these gates for well-nigh -a year; one officer, indeed, has preferred to -forego this opportunity of liberty for an -hour or two in order that he may achieve a -complete year of incarceration in the <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Kriegsgefangenenlager</i>, -his anniversary falling due -in a few days.</p> - -<p>I myself have been captive in this camp -for less than two months, yet I feel a panting -and palpitating as we wait for the guard -to turn the key in the gate; I seem to -breathe more deeply when we have passed -into the street. In a word, as he moves -among us, the senior British officer has -warned us that we are on parole.</p> - -<p>Two electric tram-cars, connected, await -us, and we mount and take our places. It is -a cold morning, one of the coldest for some -months. A small crowd which has collected -gazes silently and not unsympathetically<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> -upon the scene. The group consists mostly -of children, going schoolward, and perhaps it -is owing to the severe cold, but their faces are -pinched and thin. It moves me mightily to -imagine that we are in any sense of the -word at war with these little ones.</p> - -<p>As the car speeds through the streets we -rub the frost from the panes and gaze out -upon the world like a batch of schoolboys -on an excursion. Old Maier, the German -orderly, indeed, takes particular pains to -point out to us places and objects of interest -as we pass; the <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Stadthaus</i>; the monument -to the Margrave Charles William, founder -of the city, which encloses his dust; the -various churches. The architecture is interesting, -although, as I understand, we are -moving through the least opulent parts of -Carlsruhe.</p> - -<p>On the outskirts of the town the cars stop -in front of a church, where is drawn up a -German guard of over a hundred, with a -brass band, and a firing-party of fifty men. -We file into the chapel, and the wreaths are -laid upon the black coffin, which rests under -the shadow of a great cross with a bronze<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> -Christ. This, and a painting of a miracle -of healing, are the only adornments of an -interior which is dignified and harmoniously -coloured in greys and greens.</p> - -<p>“That is the General of the district with -the Commandant,” whispers Maier in my ear.</p> - -<p>The service is brief and simple. The -Lutheran pastor, in black cap and white -bands, delivers a short address, reads a few -passages from the Scriptures, and engages -in prayer. Then the bearers take up their -bitter burden and pass down the aisle. One -green wreath lies on top of the coffin; it -falls off, and I stoop down and replace it. -As we reach the door Maier is once more -at my ear. “That wreath is from the Grand -Duchess of Baden!”</p> - -<p>As we pass down the steps the band is -playing somewhere in front, softly and sorrowfully, -then there is a few minutes’ silence -while the procession passes into the avenue -leading to the cemetery. Here and there -are a few desolate-looking civilians. Now -comes the sound of drums; something between -a distant thunder-roll and the heavy -dropping of rain in a thunder shower.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> -Chopin’s “Marche Funèbre.” I have never -heard it played in a more fitting environment. -The dark-grey body of German soldiery -winds among the trees, which throw up gaunt, -leafless branches agonizingly against a dull -grey sky.</p> - -<p>How illogical is war! I have seen a -hundred men—as many as are here assembled -for the burial of one—huddled into what -was practically one common grave! Surely -we are not come forth entirely to bury the -dead with ceremony; but to persuade ourselves, -to prove as convincingly as may be, -that the ancient courtesies, the old kindlinesses, -are not entirely dead and buried!</p> - -<p>As the music passes into the lyric movement -of the march I see wistfulness in the -faces of some of the veteran warriors; regretfulness -in the very stoop of their shoulders. -There is something moving at all times even -in the formal and ceremonial grief of man; -it is accentuated when he is clothed in the full -panoply of war.</p> - -<p>A short service over the grave, then the -firing-party throw their three volleys into the -air, as if making noisy question as to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> -scheme of things at the unanswering heavens. -The brasses seem to make mournful reply -that no answer has indeed been vouchsafed. -Then, the body being lowered into the grave, -each of us casts upon it three shovelfuls of -earth, making the sign of the Cross or saluting -the military dead according to our creed and -conception. And so we leave -the poor dust, till it be disturbed -by music more insistent -and clamorous than -the clarions of men!</p> - -<div id="Fig_51" class="figright" style="width: 150px;"> -<img src="images/i_051.jpg" width="150" height="225" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">THE CATHOLIC -PRIEST.</p></div> -</div> - -<p>A French soldier who has -died in hospital is also being -interred, and, though it is -bitterly cold, we all wait -until the cortège has arrived, -and the burial service—in this case performed -by the Catholic priest—has been -carried out. As we return through the -avenue we overtake the sad, solitary figure -of a widow in sombre black leading a boy of -six or seven by the hand. Both figures are -suggestive of refinement, both faces are pale, -and that of the mother is grief-stricken. As -we pass I am so near that I almost brush them.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> -I turn and look back at the boy, whose face -is full of beauty. The insistent gaze of an -enemy officer seems to frighten him, and he -shrinks closer to his mother’s side.</p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">A Lecture on Abyssinia</span></h3> - -<div id="Fig_52" class="figleft" style="width: 150px;"> -<img src="images/i_052.jpg" width="150" height="211" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">THE REV. MR. -FLAD.</p></div> -</div> - -<p>The Rev. Father Daniels, the Roman -Catholic priest to whom I have referred, -made regular visitation to the -camp, and we had, furthermore, -occasional ministration -from a Protestant divine, the -Rev. Mr. Flad. This gentleman -appeared in our midst -with great suddenness one -morning, and there was much -ado to beat up a creditable -congregation for him. This ultimately being -forthcoming, and at the moment when the -pastor was inviting us to accompany him -with a pure heart to the Throne of Heavenly -Grace entered Hans with an urgent and -whispered message, which turned out to be -an invitation to lunch from the Grand -Duchess of Baden. The summons left the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> -good padre obviously preoccupied during the -service, and necessitated a postponement of -the Communion until the afternoon. This -led to a suggestion that the pastor might -lecture us in the evening on his experiences -in Abyssinia.</p> - -<p>The father of Mr. Flad was a missionary -in Abyssinia during the reign of -King Theodore. His mother, a friend of -Florence Nightingale, was a deaconess in -the Church. When trouble arose between -the King and the British Government—through -the ignoring of the former’s letter -suggesting a latter-day crusade for the liberation -of the Holy Land from the Turks—Flad -senior and fifty-eight other Europeans were -imprisoned, and many of them had to undergo -the punishment of being chained to a native -soldier for four and a half years.</p> - -<p>The native soldier, it is a relief to learn, -was changed every week—a transaction which -one can imagine as being welcome as a change -of linen!</p> - -<p>Ultimately Flad was despatched as -Ambassador from King Theodore to Queen -Victoria, with whom he had two interviews<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> -at Osborne, his wife being meanwhile held -as hostage for his return. “I have here -your two eyes and your heart,” said King -Theodore.</p> - -<p>During these difficult and dangerous years -Mrs. Flad kept a diary, which was published, -but which is now out of print. With the -coming of Lord Napier the prisoners were -released, and King Theodore came to a tragic -end by his own hand. The pastor is hopeful -of some day taking up his father’s work -and he passed round a book printed in Geëz, -I take it, a page of which he reads every day. -His father used to tell him how in the native -cafés he had heard discussion as to whether -the Queen of Sheba who visited King Solomon -was ruler of Abyssinia or Arabia.</p> - -<p>One need not be in Abyssinia to be -chained to a black mood at least, if not a -black man. Sitting in the court at Carlsruhe, -watching the barbed wire shake and -shiver like a man in an ague to the play -of my foot, I have been seized with a sudden -fear of the horrors from which I have emerged. -This fear in retrospect, so to speak, was -greater far than anything I can confess to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> -have felt in actuality; as if one who had -boldly and blindly crossed a profound abyss -on a tight-rope should faint or falter, grow -dizzy and fall, having reached firm ground -once more; as if one had all the past still -to pass through, and it were not possible that -one should safely pass through it.</p> - -<p>To me, on such an occasion, appeared my -buoyant young Italian friend Cotta, who, -passing an arm through mine, haled me off -for a glass of the atrocious white wine of the -country—or at least of the <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Kantine</i>. Thereafter -we walked together in the Close, Cotta -giving his English an airing.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I speak English very well, very -well. Have you see the donkey?”</p> - -<p>The little donkey, which, yoked to a little -waggon, brings us on most days a load of -parcels, and which has become so friendly to -an alien officer that even in charge of a somewhat -obdurate driver it will make a sudden -detour from its course in order to shove its -muzzle into my hand, was grazing in the -circular grass plot in the centre of the -square.</p> - -<p>“It is the better German in the camp!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> -says Cotta. “Ah, I am very sad, very sad,” -he proceeds. “I have no letter from my girl, -and the Germans have take from me her -photograph. Damn! damn!”</p> - -<div id="Fig_56" class="figcenter" style="width: 491px;"> -<img src="images/i_056.jpg" width="491" height="650" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">AN ITALIAN MAJOR OF MOUNTAIN ARTILLERY.</p></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p> - -<div id="Fig_58" class="figcenter" style="width: 433px;"> -<img src="images/i_058.jpg" width="433" height="650" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">PLAYBILL FOR LADY GREGORY’S “THE RISING OF THE MOON”</p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p> - -<div id="Fig_59" class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> -<img src="images/i_059.jpg" width="600" height="314" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">OUR ORCHESTRA.</p></div> -</div> - - -<h2 class="no-break">IV<br /><span class="smcap">Entertainment in Exile</span></h2> - - -<p class="dropcap">Man cannot live by bread alone—nor -may he, even with a supplementary -basin of soup! Immediately -after dinner on the Saturday evening of -my arrival in Carlsruhe, a steady stream of -officers set in towards the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">salon d’appel</i>. -Being still without chart or compass as -regards the camp, I also drifted in this -direction, and found that at the far end of -the hall a stage was erected, and that a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> -cosmopolitan audience was already gathered -in the expectant dusk of the auditorium. -A few rows of forms from the court served -as dress circle and stalls; later arrivals -brought their own chairs or stools from the -dormitories; standing in the background, -the orderlies, obviously washed of their week’s -labours in the kitchen or the camp, were -the gods, and from their Olympus gave -occasional encouragement, or passed comment -and criticism upon the performance.</p> - -<p>On this particular evening, together with -various musical and vocal efforts, there was -a very capable representation by a cast of -French officers, of Max Maurey’s comedy in -one act, “Asile de Nuit.” Prior to the enactment, -and for the benefit of those in the -audience who might be innocent of French, -a British officer gave out the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">motif</i> in -English.</p> - -<p>As I sat contentedly in my place—the -burden of the wearinesses of the last weeks -fallen from my shoulders—it was borne in -upon me that much of the success of a play -is in the eager and receptive mood of the -audience; also that in the naïve freshness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> -of an amateur performance is a charm which -has too frequently perished in the more -finished production of the professional actor. -At all events, in “Asile de Nuit”—the -“Night Refuge”—I found indeed refuge for -the night!</p> - -<p>Monsieur the Superintendent of an—uncharitable—institution, -is pompous, proud, -and overbearing, particularly to his unwelcome -clients. It is just on the closing hour -of nine, and he is preparing to depart for -the business of his favourite café, when one -of these waifs blows in. Monsieur storms at -the tramp for the lateness of the hour, for -the ludicrousness of his name, for anything -and everything, and ultimately, after passing -him over to a brow-beaten assistant for the -condign punishment of a bath, goes off himself -for a beer.</p> - -<p>He returns almost immediately, quite -chapfallen. He has learned that the Superintendent -of another “Refuge” has been -dismissed for failing to entertain an angel -unawares in the person of a disguised -journalist. He is persuaded that the piece -of ragged illiteracy which he himself is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> -harbouring is a pen also charged and pointed -for his undoing. Consequently the amazed -vagrant is overwhelmed with clothing from -the Superintendent’s own wardrobe, cigars -from his private cabinet; he is even finally -permitted to escape the last indignity of -ablution!</p> - -<div id="Fig_62" class="figcenter" style="width: 458px;"> -<img src="images/i_062.jpg" width="458" height="650" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">A CARLSRUHE CONCERT PROGRAMME.</p></div> -</div> - -<p>Into the service of the theatre I immediately -found myself intrigued and impressed, -in the somewhat composite character of -scene-painter, scene-shifter, poster-artist,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> -actor, prompter, “noises-off,” and playwright. -My first essay in this latter capacity -was entitled “A Chelsea Christmas Eve,” -the scene being a studio, embellished with -sundry artistic audacities—nudes and nocturnes, -post-impressionisms and cubisms—and -from the cardboard window of which -was a view of the Thames, including the -Tower Bridge!—there entirely for economical -reasons, and not geographic.</p> - -<div id="Fig_64" class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> -<img src="images/i_064.jpg" width="600" height="374" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">“A CHELSEA CHRISTMAS EVE,” AS PLAYED AT CARLSRUHE LAGER</p></div> -</div> - -<p>So pleasant, nevertheless, was this little -make-believe interior that we rarely entered -for a rehearsal without discovering and disturbing -sundry reading animals who had crept -into it as a quiet and congenial environment, -and who frequently and regretfully -suggested that it would be desirable as a -permanency. During the performance the -on-coming of a monstrous and realistic pie, -built—not baked—in a wash-hand basin, -filled with boiling water, and covered with -a richly-coloured cardboard crust, was nearly -provocative of an assault upon the stage by -a hungry and overwrought audience!</p> - -<p>Another dramatic effort, devised for the -bringing on to the stage of my good friends—and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> -the good friends of all the camp—Bertolotti, -Calvi the pianist, and Lazarri the -sweet singer, was “An Italian Vignette.” -The scenery, which was painted on paper -readily reversible, so that one could very -literally have “a prison and a palace” on -each side, I evolved from pleasant if somewhat -untrustworthy recollection of a fortnight’s -stay in Venice many years ago.</p> - -<p><em>There is a glorious city in the sea.</em></p> - -<p><em>The sea is in the broad, the narrow -streets</em>—and that after such sort as proved -somewhat disconcerting to the two Venetians -present in camp. Owing to the circumscriptions -of the stage the scene was more -suggestive than realistic, the gondola, instead -of entering from below the Ponte dei Sospiri, -swimming in a canal running parallel with -the Bridge of—Sighs—but of no dimensions!</p> - -<p>As regards dresses, it was possible to -hire through “Hans,” the German orderly, -one evening dress suit, one blue ditto, one -odd pair of quite unmentionable “unmentionables,” -and one Homburg hat. To -prevent effort at escape these garments had -to be returned to the authorities immediately<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> -after each performance. Nothing in anywise -approximating to a garb mediæval being -obtainable, each man—and “woman”—must -dress the part to the best of possibilities.</p> - -<p>Clelia (Lieut. Smith), for example, of -whom I, as Marco, was supposed to be -enamoured, trusted to hide his identity—particularly -as disclosed by his feet—in a -few yards of chintz, rather unhappily of -identical pattern with the stage curtain! A -cardigan jacket, frilled and ruffled with an -edging of white linen torn from a frayed -pocket handkerchief, made a quite presentable -doublet for me. Toulon, the French -orderly’s <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">béret</i>, turned up at the corners, and -bearing red plumes, held in place by a shining -tin pipe-top, served as headgear. The lid of -a boric ointment box suspended from my -black lanyard formed a distinguished-looking -decoration of merit; the tasselled cord of -a dressing-gown made an admirable sword-belt.</p> - -<p>An Italian military mantle completed my -costume. A mandolin—an instrument of -torture to be dreaded above all others, but -which musically was mute in the piece, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> -pictorially represented a guitar—was borrowed -from an orderly.</p> - -<p>In passages where “A Venetian Vignette” -did not awe the audience it at least amused -it. Owing to an eleventh-hour timidity on -the part of two of our Italians I had to touch -the light guitar and raise my voice in apparent -song, while off, Lieut. Calvi, with piano -muted with newspapers, and Lieut. Lazarri, -with distended larynx, supplied the actualities, -and this with such success that the many -new-comers among the audience, knowing -neither Joseph nor Lazarri, were deceived, -and I received a very ill-deserved ovation for -Toselli’s “Serenade.”</p> - -<div id="Fig_70" class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> -<img src="images/i_070.jpg" width="600" height="392" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">SCENE FROM “A VENETIAN VIGNETTE”</p></div> -</div> - -<p>The Portuguese Captain Teixeira, who -had wonderful imitative faculties, so that -twice I have seen him hypnotize young -birds to within a few inches of his hand, as -a nightingale “off,” “trilled with all the -passion of all the love songs that have been -sung since the world began”—an interpolation -made by the dramatist in his dialogue -to permit of an effect so original! “Noises -off” tolled the bell—the great kitchen -poker—which was intended to warn the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> -lovers of the fleet passage of the hour, just -about five minutes behind time, making his -thus tardy entry on the principle that -nothing be lost.</p> - -<p>Lieut. H., who had taken part in bull-fighting -in Southern America, gave me the -<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">coup de grâce</i> in his own fashion, between -the shoulder blades, and, judging by the -force, with a momentary forgetting of the -fact that he was only in Southern Germany. -With a “Mio Dio! Io sono morto!” for -the sake of local colouring, I and the curtain -fell almost simultaneously.</p> - -<p>“The Secret: A Shudder in 3 Scenes,” -was probably most memorable from the -secret fact that it secured me a few inches -of forbidden candle, which I used in surreptitious -reading after “lights out” for -some nights after. “The Brigand: a Musical -Absurdity,” written by a versatile Roman -Catholic padre, was apparently sufficiently -realistic to procure me the first visit next -morning from an officer in the audience who -had lost his watch! Unrehearsed effects in -this performance were the igniting of the -cardboard brazier by the toppling over of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> -the candle set within to illuminate it; the -rolling across the stage of an empty and -otherwise rather suspicious looking bottle, -and the violent antipathies evidenced by -“Bobby,” a French officer’s adopted fox-terrier, -which I had to keep at bay with my -double-barrelled cardboard blunderbuss.</p> - -<div id="Fig_72" class="figcenter" style="width: 446px;"> -<img src="images/i_072.jpg" width="446" height="650" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">A CARLSRUHE PLAY-BILL.</p></div> -</div> - -<p>Emerging from the hall within a few -minutes of roll-call and with our faces masked -by the vigorous colourations of our brigandage<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> -“under the greenwood tree,” we discovered -to our dismay that the water supply had been -cut off. For days afterwards my knees had -a brownness unknown to them since I discarded -the Black Watch kilt.</p> - -<div id="Fig_73" class="figcenter" style="width: 459px;"> -<img src="images/i_073.jpg" width="459" height="650" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">POSTER FOR A FRENCH PLAY.</p></div> -</div> - -<p>A very creditable performance was given -of Bernard Shaw’s one-act play, “How He -Lied to Her Husband”; Oscar Wilde’s -“The Importance of Being Earnest,” -abridged to one act, was essayed with great<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> -earnestness. The French players gave us some -very adroit performances, particularly of such -comedies as Labiche’s “J’invite le Colonel.”</p> - -<p>One day there arrived in camp Lieut. -Martin, late of the Abbey Theatre, Dublin, -a little Irishman with a big brogue, a fund -of humour and of its concomitant, good -humour, and a budget of news of literary -import, as that W. B. Yeats was married, and -that G. B. S. had taken his place at the theatre.</p> - -<p>It was suggested to Martin that we might -stage one of the Irish plays. He had had -copies of a number of these in his valise -when he was captured, but, of course, these -were lost. He was able ultimately, however, -to write out from memory Lady -Gregory’s “The Rising of the Moon,” and -for my guidance he gave me a little paper -model of the staging as designed originally, -I imagine, by Jack Yeats. For the performance -the German authorities lent us a -huge beer barrel—entirely empty. The cast -was an all-Irish one, Lieut.-Colonel Lord -Farnham playing the part of Sergeant of the -R.I.C., Lieut. Martin playing the supposed -ballad-singer.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p> - -<p>A week later, when Martin departed for -another camp, he slipped into my hand a -scrap of paper bearing a scrap of philosophy -from “The Rising of the Moon”: “’Tis a -quare world, and ’tis little any mother knows -when she sees her child creepin’ on the floor -what’ll happen to it, or who’ll be who in the -end.”</p> - -<p>Well, I hope that I may yet chance across -the humoursome little Irishman once more -before the final—setting of the sun!</p> - - -<h3>“<span class="smcap">The Homeland</span>”</h3> - -<p>While we were thus making effort to -entertain ourselves within the camp, outside -in the Fest Theatre in Carlsruhe there was a -performance, for the benefit of the Eighth -War Loan, of “The Homeland,” a war -vision by Leo Sternburg. A translation of -this appeared in the <cite>Continental Times</cite>, a -ridiculous and half-illiterate propaganda sheet -which we could receive thrice weekly at a -cost of 2.70 marks per month.</p> - -<p>The scene is the battlefield. Ahasuerus, -the Wandering Jew, moves amid the dead<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> -men that lie about. The dawn is coming -up the skies. Soldiers of the Medical Corps -carry stretchers to and fro. Occasionally the -mutter of the distant battle rolls over the scene.</p> - -<p>The Wandering Jew laments that he has -been unable to find extinction even in this -welter of the world war. A dying soldier -greets him as a messenger from the Homeland:</p> - -<p>Give me your hand—that hand from -home. They have not left me to die alone in -a strange land. They have sent me greetings.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Ahasuerus</span>: No, no!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Soldier</span>: Your hand——</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Ahasuerus</span>: You have it. It is well. -The most homeless of men stands before -thee—he is as homeless as thou.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Soldier</span>: As I! I who die for home—I -homeless!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Ahasuerus</span>: Thou art in error. The -homeland would not die for <em>thee</em>.</p> - -<p>The Wandering Jew goes on to speak of -apathy among the people, and reminds the -soldier that “not only arms win victories -to-day. The war of all men against all men -has been unloosed. War against the woman<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> -and the child. War against fields and forests -and farm and house. Peaceful labour turns -to battle. The metal of the church bells -fights. The seed fights as it falls into -the furrow. Money marches in ranks.... -But ... men eat and sleep and wax fat. -They hear of the death of millions, and say: -‘Yes, yes.’ Gods that descend before their -very eyes, and the wonders of a heroism half -divine, no longer move their senses—no -sacrifice can stir them out of their daily rut. -They have but one care to trouble them—it -is that you might return greater than when -you set forth.”</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Soldier</span> (emphatically, to the men of the -Medical Corps): Away! away! I would die -of life and not of death.... Let me lie -down beside mine enemy, he that hath -endured what I have endured, he, as a -comrade that understands me.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Ahasuerus</span>: Come, thou mayst deem -thyself blest in that thou diest so that thou -mayst not behold a race of lesser men. Ye -have grown beyond human compass in the -fires of your time, your heads would strike -the ceilings in your little chambers.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p> - -<p>Ultimately, however, new troops enter, -and one of these gives reassurance to the -dying man.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Second Soldier</span>: Property hath converted -itself into armies, and the joy of riches -means only the capacity to give.... Coffers -and chests fly open. Countesses bring their -silver, the legacy of famous ancestors, the -old maid-servant her hoarded wage. The -widow gives up her golden chain, the last -love gift of her dead mate; the merchant his -gains, and the old peasants the walnut tree -in whose shadow they played as children.... -The whole land becomes a mighty -armoury ... they hammer, hammer, -hammer, day and night.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Dying Soldier</span>: Do you not hear the -thunder of Wieland’s hammer? The ringing -armour of the Valkyries? Do you not hear -the hoof-beats of their stallions?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Second Soldier</span>: Yea, rivers and fields, -mountains and woods dream anew their -German dreams.... Silently the women -offer up their beauty ... the park of roses -becomes the potato patch. The savant is -his own servant. The mother can no longer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> -mother her child. Work puts out the torch -of love ... but all bear this ... they bear -it for the sake of the blood which flowed for -their sake.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Soldier</span>: I die ... I die happy.</p> - -<p>[<em>He dies.</em>]</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Ahasuerus</span>: O Fate! This moment outweighs -all my two thousand years of torment. -I am reconciled with my sorrow, in that the -centuries have spared me to behold the -mighty heroism of this people.</p> - -<p>[<em>Curtain.</em>]</p> - -<div id="Fig_79" class="figcenter" style="width: 514px;"> -<img src="images/i_079.jpg" width="514" height="650" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">ONE OF OUR ORCHESTRA.</p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p> - -<div id="Fig_80" class="figcenter" style="width: 229px;"> -<img src="images/i_080.jpg" width="229" height="325" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">ENGINEER OF THE “HITACHI MARU.”</p></div> -</div> - - -<h2 class="no-break">V<br /><span class="smcap">Victims of the “Wolf”</span></h2> - - -<p class="dropcap">Carlsruhe <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Kriegsgefangenenlager</i> -being what was known as a Distribution -Camp, there was a continual -coming and going of officers. Here we -had no continuing city. An occasional -prisoner might linger on—as if entirely overlooked -and forgotten—for a year or even<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> -two; in the majority of cases, however, the -stay only extended for a few weeks, sometimes -merely a few days. On three consecutive -weeks the cast for one of our plays was -removed almost <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">en bloc</i>. Friendships were -formed overnight, to be violently disrupted -by departure on the morrow. In our little -world was a complete epitome of life.</p> - -<p>One afternoon in early March there arrived -in camp a cartload of trunks and sea-chests -bearing strange hieroglyphics, with a rumour -that these would be followed by the officers -of various nationality, including Japanese, -captured from the ships sunk by the notorious -German cruiser <em>Wolf</em>.</p> - -<p>Two days later they arrived, sailormen from -the seven seas, British, American, Australian, -Scandinavian, so that the next morning their -blue suits and brown boots gave the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">salon -d’appel</i> the appearance of a mercantile marine -office when a crew is signing on. Some of the -Captains, grizzled and weather-beaten, had -an easy gait, a quiet laying down of the -foot, which inevitably suggested the bridge -or the moving decks of ships; different -entirely from the more formal military stride.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> -Some of them were doubtless glad to stretch -their legs, having been cruising in the piratical -<em>Wolf</em> for a year or fifteen months.</p> - -<p>The Japanese officers made me very -heartily welcome to their hut, on a shelf in -which I noticed immediately on my entry -a little statue of Buddha. While I sketched -some of these placid, not readily fathomable -faces, I heard, in broken English, the tragic -story of the broken life of their Captain, -the Commander of the <em>Hitachi Maru</em>.</p> - -<p>The Captain had intended suicide from -the time he lost his vessel—thirteen of her -crew were killed in the fight—and simply -awaited his opportunity. This came to him -in the darkness and amid the floes of Iceland, -when the <em>Wolf</em>, with fangs red with blood, -was running back for Kiel.</p> - -<p>Engineer Lieut.-Commander K. Shiraishi, -of the Imperial Japanese Navy, is speaking, -his immobile face—so that I may complete my -sketch—as rigid as that of the little Buddha -which I can see behind him. He has shared a -berth with the Captain, and tells me that on -the night of his disappearance he left the -cabin, “and he come not back.” He had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> -slipped quietly overboard—“in the dark and -among the ice”—thus embarking on a final -voyage, new and strange.</p> - -<p>“All night we hear the ice grinding past -the ship,” said my Lieut.-Commander, without -the flicker of an eyelid. “In the dark—and -among the ice!”</p> - -<p>Returning to my hut, by a literary coincidence -not uncommon, I opened Joseph -Conrad, and read in “Il Conde”: “He put -the tip of his finger on a spot close under -his breast-bone, the very spot of the human -body where a Japanese gentleman begins -the operation of the Harakiri, which is a -form of suicide following upon dishonour, -upon <a id="Ref_83"></a>an intolerable outrage to the delicacy -of one’s feelings.”</p> - -<p>Captain Meadows, of the <em>Tarantella</em>, the -first steamer sunk by the <em>Wolf</em>, was a man -of Herculean build, and quite apparently, -and as befitted the skipper of a ship named -as his was, he had led the German Commander -something of a dance. Every morning, -until he was caught in the act, the -Captain used to empty the water from his -bath into the sea, and with it a bottle giving<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> -the bearings of the <em>Wolf</em>, and some account -of her depredations. Even when the time -came that two or three -German sailors flung -themselves suddenly -upon him, he succeeded -in “mailing his letter,” -and when he received -a vehement reprimand -he made retort that if -the Commander thought -it necessary to shout -even louder he might -use his megaphone!</p> - -<div id="Fig_84" class="figleft" style="width: 300px;"> -<img src="images/i_084.jpg" width="300" height="379" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">CAPTAIN OF THE -“TARANTELLA.”</p></div> -</div> - -<p>The <em>Wolf</em> apparently employed a hydroplane -with great effect in locating her prey, -and in evading capture. The Captain of the -<em>Matunga</em> showed me a snapshot—from which -I made a sketch—of the last moments of his -sinking ship.</p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">Clinging to Office</span></h3> - -<p>However unwillingly officers may have -come to Carlsruhe, there was always a certain -loathness to leave for another camp, on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> -principle, doubtless, that it is better to -“bear those ills we have, than fly to others -that we know not of.” There was something -hugely diverting in the tenacity with -which prisoners clung to whatever shred of -office or appointment they could lay claim -to. The members of the Cabinet cannot be -more reluctant to leave hold of their portfolios -than were the <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Gefangenen</i> to pack up -their portmanteaux.</p> - -<div id="Fig_86" class="figcenter" style="width: 466px;"> -<img src="images/i_086.jpg" width="466" height="650" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">A SERBIAN OFFICER PRISONER OF WAR</p></div> -</div> - -<p>One officer was Secretary for the English -section; another was Assistant Secretary, -while there were a number of Committeemen -whose labours were not over-arduous. -Two or three of us attended to the distribution -of food to the needy; two or three to -the doling out of clothing to the nude. Then -there were the masters of music; pianists, -violinists, and at least one ’cellist; the -dramatic entertainers under the “O.C. -Theatres”; and a group of choristers who -in chapel every Sunday evening at evensong -did lustily raise their voices in “Magnificat” -and “Nunc Dimittis”; partly, it -must be confessed, that the Lord might let -His servants <em>remain</em> in peace!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p> - -<div id="Fig_88" class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> -<img src="images/i_088.jpg" width="600" height="397" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">A REHEARSAL.</p></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p> - -<p>A Debating Society was formed, whose -primary object, when the secrets of men’s -hearts are laid bare, will probably prove to -have been the providing of permanencies -for the President and the Secretary. At -these meetings, by the way, we gravely discussed -problems so original as the Reconstitution -of the Lords; the Influence of the -Press; Classical or Modern Education in -Public Schools; and with equal gravity on -a more irresponsible evening the profound -question, “Should bald heads be buttered?” -To the best of my recollection we arrived -at the conclusion that they should at least -be boiled.</p> - -<p>A French Captain, who in civil life was a -wine merchant, gave a lecture on the wines -and vineyards of France, the designing of -a series of drawings and maps illustrative -of which permitted me to pass out of my -captivity for a spell, and wander in the -pleasant region of the Gironde.</p> - -<p>These were our only feasible ways of escape -at Carlsruhe. A bird might flutter past the -window of my chamber with a sharp little flight -of song. At once I was out and away with it,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> -not necessarily to the magnificences and splendours, -but perhaps to almost penurious patches -and spaces on the outskirts of the dour old -town of my nativity, where pavement and -grass-plot touch, and where, amid the lamp-posts -and the telegraph poles, there are -familiar trees to be recognized and loved—where, -indeed, one may lift to the lips and -kiss the hem of Nature’s somewhat bedraggled -skirt. And still—“You can’t get -out!” said the starling.</p> - -<p>One morning, lying alongside him in my -cot, I remarked to a fellow-prisoner, “You -look very happy.” To which, being well -versed in the Scriptures, he immediately retorted, -“I am happy in all things <em>saving -these bonds</em>!”</p> - -<p>It is not good for man to be alone, but -doubtless <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Gefangenen</i> had a little too much -of the gregarious—one felt a recurring need -for some seclusion deeper than the common -captivity. Such a place of retirement I -ultimately discovered, not in the chapel, but -in the more mundane environment of our -tiny theatre, crawling mouse-like into a -crevice between one of the sidewings and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> -wall. Here I was safe from even those who -made their casual entrances and exits. Here -also could I read to the plaintive accompaniment -of M. Calvi’s violin busy on a -Vieuxtemps “Air Varié,” or of M. Lazarri -rehearsing a vocal number for Saturday -evening’s concert—could indeed afford time -to cheer and encourage these kindly artistes -at the close of each piece by muffled applause -from a hidden but not entirely anonymous -audience.</p> - -<p>At one corner of my narrow cell was a -portion of a window giving on to the quadrangle, -so that by raising an occasional eye I -could see how our little world was wagging. -To the rear was part of a set scene showing -a lurid and blood-red sun setting over the -waters, even in which primitive art there was -the suggestion of many sunsets that I have -seen; many that I yet hope to see.</p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">A Straining of the Entente</span></h3> - -<p>Even in this quiet retreat, however, one -could not count on being entirely free from -faction and fight. On an otherwise quiet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> -Sunday afternoon, an English aviator at the -piano and a French officer with a violin have -fallen into feud over a matter of musical -precedence, and within a few feet of each -other are playing at the same time entirely -different tunes, and that with vehemence and -vindictiveness. The pianist, firmly planted -on the piano stool, where he has spent most -of the day, passes without pause or punctuation -from Chopin to ragtime and from -ragtime to absolute incoherence.</p> - -<p>The Frenchman sits on a form with his -back to the wall—literally and metaphorically—and -vents his spleen on the catgut. -I stand it for full fifteen minutes by my -watch, and then, going quietly into the -empty chapel and leaving the door sufficiently -ajar, I open the organ, pull out all -the stops, brace my knees against the swell -pedals, and so burst into a sort of Grand -Chœur in G.</p> - -<p>When I emerged the Frenchman had fled -and calm was once more settling upon the piano -keys. Blessed are the peacemakers!</p> - -<p>Our piano was ultimately a “baby” -grand, though its tone was less infantile<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> -than suggestive of that of an old roué. -Indeed, there was little grand about it, -except that there was so little “upright.”</p> - -<p>Early next morning I discovered the -French violinist in the court taking a variety -of exercise, running, circling on the horizontal -bar, and jumping over the forms and -seats, in an effort doubtless to keep the -muscles and sinews of his body as taut as -his fiddle-strings.</p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">A “Stirring Time”</span></h3> - -<p>There was one respect in which we could -quite legitimately claim to be having a stirring -time in camp, and that was as regards our ceaseless -culinary operations. Recurrently as cook -it was one’s duty to see that the members -of one’s mess did not perish of starvation, -surfeit, or ptomaine poisoning. Frequently -with inadequate means as regards fuel, so -that I have suggested to an officer endeavouring -to thaw tinned sausage over burning -paper that he might try Thermogene! Personally -I achieved something of repute—or -disrepute—for two dishes of my own<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> -contriving, one a mock Scottish haggis, and -the other what I am afraid was little more -than a mockery of English plum-pudding.</p> - -<p>It was through no reflection on our cooking, -however, but simply for the reduction of a -steadily increasing <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">embonpoint</i> that one of our -number undertook a voluntary five days’ fast. -Besides being under ordinary conditions extremely -good-natured by day, X had a -mirthful habit of laughing in his sleep, the -only case in a considerable experience of -somnambulistic phenomena among soldiers -during the war which I have yet encountered.</p> - -<p>In the early hours of the final morning -of his fast he indeed laughed, but in a minor -key, just a ghost of a guffaw, with a very -apparent and pathetic tendency to merge -into a sob. That morning he finished his -fast and his breakfast almost simultaneously. -In order that he should break the glad -tidings gently, so to speak, to his famished -and clamant stomach, we had specially reserved -for him a tin of rice and milk, very -happily designated “Amity.” This was followed -up later in the day by a handful of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> -stewed prunes, and he was soon once more -in his right mind, if not so essentially clothed -upon. He had, in fact, dropped just about -one stone in weight in these five days of -fasting.</p> - -<p>There was a suggestion that after the war -some of us would be qualified to publish a -cookery book: “Mrs. Beeton Beaten!”</p> - -<div id="Fig_95" class="figcenter" style="width: 521px;"> -<img src="images/i_095.jpg" width="521" height="650" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">TWICE WOUNDED</p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></p> - -<div id="Fig_96" class="figcenter" style="width: 221px;"> -<img src="images/i_096.jpg" width="221" height="325" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">ORDERLY HANET—“LE PÈRE NOËL.”</p></div> -</div> - - -<h2 class="no-break">VI<br /><span class="smcap">Air Raids and Other Activities</span></h2> - - -<p class="dropcap">Carlsruhe <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Lager</i> was located on the -spot where a hundred people, mostly -women and children, were killed during -an air raid on Corpus Christi Day, 1916. A -few days before the second anniversary our -mess was at tea in the hut, when Father -Daniels, the German priest, arrived in search<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> -of the Roman Catholic padre, and partook of -a cup. Our talk was of raids, of which there -had been a succession, and of <em>the</em> air raid in -particular.</p> - -<p>“It happened,” said Father Daniels, “just -outside the window of this hut; there, where -the pole is.” The pole is only a few feet -away. It is used as a bumble-puppy pole -now. The trees around still bear marks of -the explosion; pieces of shell and shrapnel -embedded in the stems. There was no Corpus -Christi procession, however, as so often -claimed; simply a crowding for admission -into a circus and menagerie. Old Maier, the -German <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Lazarette</i> orderly, had a son wounded -that day.</p> - -<p>Carlsruhe and Mannheim both suffered -heavily from our aircraft during the period -of my captivity. In one week there were -eight raids—one every day and two on Sundays, -so to speak. In the early hours of -the morning we would awaken to the melancholy -music of the warning sirens, and, -getting out of bed and into slippers, would -find all the heavens intersected by searchlights.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p> - -<p>Soon the shrapnel would begin to fall -heavily into the courtyard, the pieces striking -the ground and the roofs of our huts very -viciously. In the morning we could usually -pick up a large amount of shrapnel, some of -the ragged shreds being almost a foot in -length. During the night the sounding of -the air-raid warning signal was customarily -greeted by ironical cheers from the Allied -prisoners; during a day attack we would -stand out in the court and watch proceedings, -although, with a commendable anxiety for -our safety, the German authorities would -urge us to take cover.</p> - -<p>One such air raid took place about nine -o’clock on the morning of the 31st May, the -day after the festival of Corpus Christi. An -arrangement had been arrived at between the -belligerents, I understand, that no bombing -should take place on that day, but, in their -usual absent-minded fashion, the Germans -had committed a misdemeanour. So here -were our boys over first thing with a gentle -reminder. This consisted of ten bombs—a -sort of decalogue of imperative “thou shalt -nots”—several of which fell quite near to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> -the camp. Heavy damage was done, and -there were a considerable number of casualties -among the civilians. We were so unhappy, -however, as to witness one of our ’planes -brought down in combat, and later we -learned that a second machine had fallen.</p> - -<div id="Fig_100" class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> -<img src="images/i_100.jpg" width="600" height="331" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">FUNERAL OF TWO BRITISH AVIATORS</p></div> -</div> - -<p>This last fell into a marsh, and neither -the craft nor the crew were recovered. The -other two men, however, were buried the -following afternoon. Besides representation -from all the other nationalities in camp, the -funeral party included twelve British officers. -After selection of the aviator officer prisoners -and the senior ranks five places were still -available, and these we balloted for. I drew -a blank, but R., successful, was not too keen -about going, and I secured a gift of his place, -helping him to a decision, if truth must be -told, by a little present of two tins, each -containing one hundred cigarettes!</p> - -<p>This was my second time outside the -gates during the whole of my seven months’ -captivity at Carlsruhe. The journey was -the same as before, though now was visible -the whole wondrous work of Nature in these -last few months of spring and early summer.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> -In church I sat in the second row immediately -behind General von Rinck, and could -not help observing how his grey hair and his -grey, deeply-engraven face, harmonized and -were at one with the field-grey of his uniform, -but that in that face there was no note of -answering colour to the red facings of his -tunic, or to the finely-arranged ribbons of his -many decorations and distinctions.</p> - -<p>The service was similar to the former, -and throughout the brief time that it -lasted the sides of the two black wooden -boxes which lay before the altar, a wreath -at the foot of each, appeared to fall -asunder, and I seemed to see clearly the poor -mangled bodies which were therein. The -same impressive music as we passed from the -church and up the avenue to the cemetery; -the same word of command to the firing-party; -the same volleys fired upward into -futility; the same tribute paid by each of -us, a spadeful of dust—to what would soon -be but a spadeful of dust. There is little -variation in Death, or in the ceremonies by -which we endeavour to disguise from ourselves -his distressing and disturbing realisms.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> -Being Saturday, there were many civilians -in the cemetery, staid old men who seemed to -have come in from the country; students and -schoolboys standing at the salute; women -weeping at the burial of the dead who have -caused their dead!</p> - -<p>A few days later the civilians, mostly -factory girls, killed in the air raid were -buried, but we neither heard nor saw any -evidences of the funeral. The German <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">communiqué</i> -read: “Shortly after 9 a.m. an -attack ensued on the open town of Carlsruhe. -Ten or twelve bombs were dropped, which -fell, partly in open country, partly in gardens. -Some damage to houses caused. Unfortunately, -four people fell victims to the attack; -six others were badly hurt, partly from their -own fault. At 9.45 the alarm was over.”</p> - -<p>And—the four aviators and the four -civilians were lying very quiet!</p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">An Inimitable Imitator</span></h3> - -<p>Sometimes, after “lights out,” a warning -siren would be blown in camp, which, to the -initiated, simply made warning that Captain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> -Teixeira, our inimitable imitator, had been -induced good-naturedly to give a performance. -Then might be heard the Captain sawing -his way to freedom, to the bringing in of -the disconcerted guard. -Followed imitation of -all the fowls in the -farmyard, and all the -feathers in the forest, -or, most humorous of -all, “an infant crying -in the night, and with -no language but a -cry.” Perhaps I would -suggest twins, whereat -the Captain, who is a -family man, would revert -to poultry, and -give an imitation of -an exultant hen, whose cackling we found -none the less realistic in that we have a tin -of “eggs and bacon” under way for to-morrow’s -breakfast.</p> - -<div id="Fig_104" class="figleft" style="width: 300px;"> -<img src="images/i_104.jpg" width="300" height="484" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">CAPTAIN TEIXEIRA.</p></div> -</div> - -<p>Captain Teixeira could not only imitate -the song of birds. He was a singer himself. -Among many other manifestations of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> -friendship, he gave me a set of improvisations, -“Songs from Coimbra”—Coimbra, a -University town and capital of the Portuguese -province of Beira, giving its name to that -school of poetry which had inception in 1848 -with the publication of “O Trovador.” I -have made effort to convert these “Cantares” -into English verse:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentone">I</div> -<div class="indentbase">Let my coffin be</div> -<div class="indenttwo">Of shape strange and bizarre—</div> -<div class="indentbase">The shape of a heart,</div> -<div class="indenttwo">The shape of a guitar!</div></div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentone">II</div> -<div class="indentbase">If a man should be slain,</div> -<div class="indenttwo">And a cross mark his rest,</div> -<div class="indentbase">He shall also have grave,</div> -<div class="indenttwo">Little brown girl, in your breast!</div></div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentone">III</div> -<div class="indentbase">There are caverns in my breast</div> -<div class="indenttwo">As in the bottoms of the sea</div> -<div class="indentbase">Fashioned by tides of tears,</div> -<div class="indenttwo">And sorrows surging in me.</div></div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="indentone">IV</div> -<div class="indentbase">Some day when I die</div> -<div class="indenttwo">O love, warm and rare,</div> -<div class="indentbase">In a shroud let me lie</div> -<div class="indenttwo">Of your shadowy hair.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">A German Bombardment</span></h3> - -<p>One afternoon German aviators bombarded -the camp—very harmlessly, however—with -broadsheets, and not with bombs. -After an exciting race and scrum I succeeded -in securing a copy. It was in the -form of a child’s catechism, with as heading -a quaint woodcut of a town on the Rhine. -It commenced: “Mother: My child, lovst -thou thy Fatherland? Son: Yes, mother, -Yes, with my whole heart. Mother: Why -lovst thou thy Fatherland? Son: Because -there was I cradled.” It ended with an -appeal for the Eighth War Loan.</p> - -<p>Although we had, of course, no access to -English newspapers, the German authorities -permitted us to order the <cite>Frankfurter Zeitung</cite> -and the <cite>Berliner Tageblatt</cite>, and from these -the most imperative news was translated and -written up daily in a <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">communiqué</i> book. -During more urgent periods <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Extrablätter</i> were -posted up in the dining hut. Thus news of -the great German offensive in March, 1918 -percolating into camp caused us unutterable -dullness and depression. Most of us seemed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> -absolutely helpless and hopeless in these -dark days.</p> - -<p>“I love my country,” said Lieut. H—— -chokingly.</p> - -<p>To make matters worse there was almost an -entire clearance of the camp, including many -of the men who had added to the gaiety of -such nations as were here represented. Flags -were flying, and in the distant streets one -could hear the sound of singing and cheering. -Whether by chance, however, or, as is possible, -by more delicate design, none of the banners, -except the two official ones at the gate, were -hung so high in the surrounding houses as -blatantly and jubilantly to overlook the camp. -In the case of the Russian peace, as in that -with the Ukraine, the flags were hung from -the topmost stories; in the present instance -they were not hung above the level of the -palisades, and were more evidently intended -for the man in the street.</p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">The Bath Attendant</span></h3> - -<p>The soldiers on sentry duty were rarely -unfriendly, though they were forbidden to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> -have any intercourse with the prisoners. -Certain functionaries, however, we, of necessity, -got to know more intimately. Entering -the bathing hut one morning, the attendant—a -new man, youthful, and of healthy and -happy appearance; his predecessor was the -most morose and doubtless liverish of Germans—was -reading a book with a lurid -cover giving an account of the U-boat campaign. -He made endeavour to hide the -volume from my sight. I found that he had -been a sailor, and, among other English -vessels, had served in the steamers of the -White Star Line. He was certainly decidedly -at sea as to the duties of his present office, -his aim apparently being to give us a douche -with the cleansing properties of a hot and -the tonic virtues of a cold bath at one and -the same time. All, however, in the happiest -and most friendly fashion.</p> - -<p>One morning he was in beaming, if somewhat -bashful, mood, and confided to me that -he had been married the previous night; -showed me his ring, and ultimately a photograph -of the blushing young bride—who, it -must be confessed, looked decidedly older<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> -and more experienced than her mate. He -further informed me that she had “<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">viel -Geld</i>,” while he—rolling up his sleeve, and -demonstrating—had nothing but his muscles. -Perhaps it was owing to over-much happiness, -but on that morning he seemed quite unable -to manipulate the various screws and levers, -so that we were quite chilled before the -coming of the cold douching.</p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">Our Orderlies</span></h3> - -<p>Our orderlies, like ourselves, were of -various nationality, but there was a consensus -of opinion that the genius of the -French soldier seemed to lie most in the -direction of that office. I, at all events, was -fortunate in my Frenchmen. First was our -faithful Gustav—breaker of cups and not too -scrupulous a cleaner of the same, but nevertheless -a kindly and willing servant and a -shrewd. When one morning, amid great -excitement and much embracing and kissing -upon both cheeks by his countrymen, Gustav -left the camp <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">en route</i> for France—his indifferent -health and the long period of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> -captivity entitling him to an exchange—we -were somewhat disconsolate.</p> - -<div id="Fig_110" class="figcenter" style="width: 440px;"> -<img src="images/i_110.jpg" width="440" height="650" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">ORDERLY TOULON, CHASSEUR ALPINI.</p></div> -</div> - -<p>Followed Robert, however, who told us -that we might call him “Bobby,” and who -broke cups quite as effectively as Gustav, -and cleaned them no more efficiently. To -us he was docility itself, but one morning, -having dressed with extreme care, and having -found a substitute to wait upon us, he went<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> -off mysteriously to town before breakfast, -and on his return informed us that he had -been sentenced by the Germans to fifteen -months’ imprisonment “for revolt.” His -offence was committed in the first year of -the war, and there was dubiety as to when -the punishment would commence. He -showed me a photograph of his “<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">femme et -enfants</i>,” whom he had not seen in the flesh -since 2nd August, 1914. Then he wept. -“Courage, Robert,” said I. “You will see -your <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">enfants, après la guerre</i>.” “Yes, but -they will no longer be <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">enfants</i>!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p> - -<div id="Fig_112" class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> -<img src="images/i_112.jpg" width="600" height="433" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">THE TWO SERBIAN COLONELS TAKE THE SUN.</p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span></p> - -<div id="Fig_113" class="figcenter" style="width: 229px;"> -<img src="images/i_113.jpg" width="229" height="325" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">LT. BERTOLOTTI.</p></div> -</div> - - -<h2 class="no-break">VII<br /><span class="smcap">Carlsruhe at its Kindliest</span></h2> - - -<p class="dropcap">With the coming of spring and early -summer, Carlsruhe Camp, which -for many weeks had lain under -deep snow, followed, at the touch of -thaw, by layers of mud and great pools of -water, began to assume a more pleasing -aspect. In the centre of the court was a -plot of green with a bordering of rose bushes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> -On either side of this were two brief avenues -of horse-chestnut trees, which towards the -middle of April were in full foliage, the leaves -hanging downwards like hands held demurely -or devoutly, the flowers showing like candles -before an altar, or fairy lights upon a fir tree -at Christmas time.</p> - -<p>A month later, sitting in the court reading, -we would be bombarded by blossoms -from these chestnuts, as if they would say, -Look! And assuredly they were well worth -looking at. Whimsically they reminded me -of rubicund country faces framed in old-fashioned -white bonnets.</p> - -<p>A prisoner myself, I imprison a few of -these blossoms where they have fallen between -the pages of my book. In the fall of -a blossom or of a leaf from a tree there is the -suggestion of a launch as well as of a funeral.</p> - -<p>Outside the <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Lager</i> was a great poplar with -a fine upward thrust and sweep above the -palisade; within was his tremulous sister, an -aspen, with leaves all aquiver like sequins -upon the attire of a gipsy dancer.</p> - -<p>Even the barbed-wire fences seemed to -make effort to hide something of their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> -menace, the grasses and weeds growing at -their feet, laying frail hands upon them as -if clinging to them for support.</p> - -<div id="Fig_116" class="figcenter" style="width: 446px;"> -<img src="images/i_116.jpg" width="446" height="650" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">LIEUT. CARUSO</p></div> -</div> - -<p>A new hut is being erected in camp, and in -the early morning, among the other perfumes -of Nature, I noted with pleasure the smell of -new wood. After all, a wooden hut is but -a tree forced and fashioned into another -growth. Pity it is, almost, that it in turn -cannot bourgeon and bring forth!</p> - -<p>I am reading Turgenev. Lieut. Hunt -passes me running; he is doing his daily -three times circuit of the camp. “Torrents -of Spring!” he cries laughingly, kicking up -his heels colt-like, in reference both to my -book and to his own exuberance!</p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">Linguistic Efforts</span></h3> - -<p>If we did not subsist by taking in each -other’s laundry we possibly survived death -from ennui by teaching each other languages.</p> - -<p>As I read I can hear Dr. Griffin’s deliberate -and enunciating voice. He is our -most proficient of professors, and is giving -a French officer a lesson in English, with -special reference to the pronunciation. “The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> -knife of the boy and the stick of the man. -Have you the pen of the sister?”</p> - -<p>Two wounded officers are pushed in -through the gates—one in a bath chair, the -other on a stretcher on wheels. A gramophone -is giving forth a military march with -well-nigh the full power of a military band. -The march finishes with “God Save the -King,” and a number of the officers stand -to attention. A drayman, who has been -delivering stores to the <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Kantine</i>, cracks his -whip with a report like a revolver shot, until -the sentry opens the gate, and he passes out. -From one of the adjoining houses come flights -of arpeggios from a piano well played.</p> - -<p>One of my Italian friends, who, on the -maternal side, is of Scottish descent, is learning -English, with the very tender idea of -“giving a surprise to Mother.” Bertolotti, -another good comrade, and very apt pupil -of my own, approaches me after about -a week’s tuition. “Good morning,” he -says. “Good morning.” Then, with more -deliberation, “It is a—bloody fool (beautiful) -day!”</p> - -<p>Even this, however, is not so bad as the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> -story told of Commandant Niemeyer of -Clausthal, who, when some prisoners on parade -showed evidence of mirthfulness at his somewhat -pretentious display of rather dubious -English, burst forth irately, “You officers -think I know nothing—but I know damn all!”</p> - -<div id="Fig_119" class="figcenter" style="width: 442px;"> -<img src="images/i_119.jpg" width="442" height="650" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">LT. VISCO.</p></div> -</div> - -<p>I must not pass from my Italian friends -without reference to the hospitable and, indeed, -quite regal dinner to which the group<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> -entertained me upon a certain Sunday afternoon. -Major Tuzzi sat at the head of the -board, for the covering of which my hosts -had succeeded in conjuring up from somewhere -or other a white table-cloth—the only -one I saw during my captivity. They had -also achieved quite a variety of dishes, all -of undeniable cookery. Chief of these was -a great trencher of macaroni, in the consumption -of which—because of the greater -deftness in manipulation of my friends, and -the unbounded generosity of their helpings—I -was easily the last man. A right merry -and unforgetable repast, with more of kindly -family suggestion in it than any I had in -Germany.</p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">Last Day in Carlsruhe</span></h3> - -<p>On Friday morning the 5th July, between -six and seven, “Hans” entered our room, -and fixing a sorrowful eye upon me—as one -who should enter the condemned cell to -announce that it is approaching eight o’clock—commenced -his customary formula, “Well, -gentlemen, I’m sorry——” I knew that the -hour of my departure had come, and, before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> -he had finished speaking, had mentally begun -to pack up.</p> - -<div id="Fig_121" class="figcenter" style="width: 422px;"> -<img src="images/i_122.jpg" width="422" height="650" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">LIEUT. LAZZARI</p></div> -</div> - -<p>My chief emotion was exhilaration at -the notion of a change of environment after -just two hundred days of captivity at -Carlsruhe. I bought a suit-case—chiefly composed -of cardboard—into which I made as -diplomatic a packing of my sketches and -papers as might be, in case of trouble in that -direction during the search which prefaces -our departure as it did our advent.</p> - -<p>“Naked we came into the world,” but -I discovered that I had gradually amassed -very considerable possessions. Bundled most -of them into a woven straw sack which had -held French biscuits, and which had already -done me comfortable service as a rug in front -of my couch. Handed over the cash-box—I -had been appointed cashier of the camp -the night before—and gave account of my -stewardship to the Brigadier-General who -was senior British officer in camp. 3.50 -marks expended to repair broken violin -strings; 6.20 marks received from an orderly, -being the billiard-table takings for two days. -Then farewells to be said all round.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p> - -<p>Teixeira embraces me in true Portuguese -fashion, Tuzzi wrings my hand and repeats -sadly, “It is necessary,” a phrase which -we have both come to use in pressing upon -each other little presents of tobacco and -edibles. Lazzari gives me to understand -that his robust tenor will be mute to-morrow -night, Calvi that his heart-strings as well as -those of his violin are broken. And so we -pass into the “silence” room for search. It -turns out in the present instance to be a mere -formality—the interpreter puts his hand into -my portmanteau and makes a few pressures, -as if he were feeling for heart-beats rather -than for hidden devices and designs.</p> - -<p>We partake of soup—the last plate of an -uncountable series—and then we form up -outside the court. We hear that we are -bound for Beeskow, near Berlin.</p> - -<p>We answer to our names, and take up -position in fours; there is a hoarse order, -and a clicking of magazines—the guards are -loading their rifles. The officer reports all -correct, salutes, and then motions us forward -with a movement of his hand, and -thus, amid cries of encouragement and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> -injunction from our comrades who remain, we -get into step, and pass through the gates. -My last vision of Carlsruhe <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Kriegsgefangenenlager</i> -shows me the British Brigadiers and -the Serbian Colonels returning our salute; -Maggiore Tuzzi, with a look of settled -melancholy upon his face, and Capitaine -Teixeira, standing aloof, with his hand upon -his heart, as suggesting that I shall ever -have occupancy there.</p> - -<div id="Fig_125" class="figcenter" style="width: 428px;"> -<img src="images/i_125.jpg" width="428" height="650" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">MAGGIORE TUZZI.</p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p> - -<p class="center xxlargefont">PART II</p> -<p class="center xlargefont">BEESKOW—BERLIN</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p> - -<div id="Fig_130" class="figcenter" style="width: 519px;"> -<img src="images/i_130.jpg" width="519" height="650" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">“ALTES AMT,” BEESKOW LAGER</p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></p> - -<div id="Fig_131" class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> -<img src="images/i_131.jpg" width="600" height="307" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">A “VERBOTEN” SKETCH.</p></div> -</div> - - -<h2 class="no-break">VIII<br /><span class="smcap">Beeskow Lager</span></h2> - - -<p class="dropcap">The journey from Carlsruhe, in Baden, -to Beeskow in der Mark presented a -marked contrast to the nightmare, -the shivering and sleepless progression between -Le Cateau and Carlsruhe in mid-winter. -We occupied second-class carriages, well and -warmly upholstered, and these we held without -change throughout the journey of thirty -odd hours.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span></p> - -<p>The people encountered <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">en route</i> were -entirely civil, and not over-curious. Every -second woman seemed to bear upon her back—besides -the apparent burden of the war—a -basket; every third man a rucksack. -Everywhere were visible evidences of intensive -agriculture; the making the most of a -possibly not too opulent soil. Tillage right -up the hillslopes; potato patches almost up -to the six-foot way. Continually we alternated -field and wood; brown boles of fir and -pine, with, hidden in their duskiness, the -white stems of the silver birch, like flashes -of summer lightning.</p> - -<p>We had just a glimpse of Heidelberg, -with its castle on the hill, and arrived at -Frankfurt towards six o’clock in the evening. -We marched through the crowded station—which -in one of its wings bore evidence of a -recent air raid—to a hall where we had a -meal of macaroni and rissoles served by a -pert and self-possessed boy of eleven clothed -in a precocious suit of evening dress.</p> - -<p>Next morning Weimar, with its quiet -memories of Goethe and Schiller; Merseburg, -with its vast and unquiet Krupp works,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> -springing up here in precaution against -possible air raids on Essen. And so, about -nine of the clock on Saturday evening, after a -divergence from the main line, the train pulled -up at Beeskow, where it became at once -apparent that practically all the youngsters, -and a large number of the grown-ups of the -town, had turned out to witness our arrival.</p> - -<p>It was the nearest thing to taking part on -the wrong side at a spectacle or victory that -I had yet experienced—of being “butcher’d -to make a Roman holiday”—and yet it was -soon evident that there was not a sufficiency -of “hate” in the whole crowd to cover a -50-pfennig piece. To most of the children -this was the first sight of the <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Engländer</i>, and -they had obviously expected much more of -monstrosity and oddity than was forthcoming, -and were disposed to be mirthful on -very easy provocation.</p> - -<p>A Lieutenant of the Cameron Highlanders, -dressed in an arrangement of the garb of old -Gaul, which permitted of carpet slippers, -puttees, and an orderly’s peaked cap, consequently -received most of the attention.</p> - -<p>Presently we came to a red-brick building<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> -of grim and ancient aspect, with still visible -evidences of an ancient moat. Turning up a -rudely cobbled way, we passed through an -old wooden gateway, which, opened for our -admittance, closed immediately again, making -a welcome shutting-out of the noise of the -rabble. We were in a sloping courtyard of -circumscribed appearance, with a square old -red-brick tower standing up in the dusk, and -a surrounding of other buildings, with rolling -roofs, having rounded dormer windows in -them.</p> - -<p>Most of the other officers were disappointed -at a first impression of the place. -“Lee’s happy,” said one, “because he’s got -an old castle to sketch!”</p> - -<p>Before we could presume on bed—for -which, having spent a sleepless night in the -train, we were more than ready—there had -to be a searching of baggage. This brought -me no little searching of heart, my impedimenta, -as an old-timer, being easily the -heaviest, and containing sketches and journals -which I desired to preserve. I was busily -explaining the multitude of these note-books -by hinting at my theatrical activities at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> -Carlsruhe, when another of the examining -officers produced from one of my portfolios -what at first sight might have seemed to be -a somewhat incriminating sketch of that -camp. Beyond a rather flattering interest -in my artistic efforts generally, however, the -drawings were passed without trouble, but -the <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Oberleutnant</i> said that it would be -necessary to retain for perusal one book of -my journal.</p> - -<div id="Fig_135" class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> -<img src="images/i_135.jpg" width="600" height="364" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">THE PRISON CAMP AT BEESKOW—AN AUDIENCE WITH THE COMMANDANT.</p></div> -</div> - -<p>I found that my dormitory was located -in what had been a bishop’s palace, the -arms still being visible on either side of one -of the windows. Passing up a very old and -dirty, but not uninteresting staircase, and -through a somewhat dingy and dilapidated -dining-hall, I obtained sanctuary with eleven -other officers in an equally dingy and disreputable -room, the ancient oaken cross-rafters -of which had been painted to a -ridiculous imitation of marble! Notwithstanding, -there was small likelihood of my -dreaming “that I dwelt in marble halls.” -Lights, for this night only, were not turned -out until midnight, though I have it on my -conscience that I endeavoured to mislead<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> -the <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Feldwebel</i> into the belief that this was -the customary hour at Carlsruhe.</p> - -<div id="Fig_138" class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> -<img src="images/i_138.jpg" width="600" height="532" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">THE OLD TOWER, BEESKOW LAGER</p></div> -</div> - -<p>Hot coffee—<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Ersatz</i>—made from acorns, -was served at eight o’clock next morning; -at nine, to the sound of hammer-blows -struck upon the old, red-rusted coulter of -a plough swung from a wooden frame, we -mustered in the court for roll-call. There -were three officers—the Commandant, an -elderly gentleman, with an obviously explosive -temper, and a decidedly unmilitary -stoop; the <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Oberleutnant</i>, portly and complacent-looking; -and the Lieutenant, a -young man, and the only one of the trio -to have seen service in this war. He was -here, indeed, because he had been very -badly wounded. The orders of the camp -were read by the interpreter, who would -doubtless have looked rather <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">distingué</i> in -evening dress, but whom a private soldier’s -uniform rendered stiff and gauche.</p> - -<p>He was sufficiently gracious to give me some -details as to the history of our new domicile, -the <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">altes Amt</i>, and the squat old <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Turm</i>. -The place was erected in 1252 by Barons or -Knights, in whose hands it remained for a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> -couple of centuries. These Barons becoming -financially indebted to the Bishops of Frankfurt-on-the-Oder, -and Lebus, the buildings -ultimately passed into their possession, and -were used as an ecclesiastical residence. -About the beginning of last century they -reverted to the Crown, and finally to the -Corporation of Beeskow. It was looked upon -as a punishment camp, and we were the first -British prisoners to be held there.</p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">The Kantine and the Catering</span></h3> - -<p>We had a <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Kantine</i>, run by a civilian -named Herr Solomon, who, however, because -of his dilatoriness, and an easy deferring -until to-morrow of what should have been -ordered to-day, was always known as -“Morgen, Morgen!” The <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Kantine</i>, which -was open daily from 11 to 1, and 5 to 7 -evening, contained a selection of commodities -ranging from a lager beer—which was -very essentially a <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Lager</i> beer—to a solitary -example of a variation of Sandow’s chest-expander, -for which no purchaser was ever -forthcoming. Something to expand a still<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> -lower compartment of our anatomy was what -we were in continual search of.</p> - -<div id="Fig_141" class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> -<img src="images/i_141.jpg" width="600" height="641" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">HERR SOLOMON, THE KANTINE KEEPER.</p></div> -</div> - -<p>The catering here, however, which was also -in Herr “Morgen, Morgen’s” hands, marked a -great advance on the Carlsruhe kitchen. The -finer hand of femininity was quite apparent -in the cooking, a number of women from the -country being employed, and we usually -were served with a soup which we could -eat without loss of self-respect. Being in -the centre of an agricultural district, we had -a good supply of potatoes and certain vegetables, -and when we were able to supplement<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> -these with a slice of bully, we did not do -too badly.</p> - - -<h3>“<span class="smcap">Much Reading——!</span>”</h3> - -<p>Immediately on our arrival at Beeskow I -was appointed to the enviable post of -librarian, but found myself in the unenviable -position of having no library. I -accordingly placed upon the notice board the -following urgent appeal:</p> - -<div id="Fig_142" class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> -<img src="images/i_142.jpg" width="600" height="596" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">“ONLY ONE BOOK!”</p></div> -</div> - -<p>This rather tickled the camp, including -the German officers, who immediately responded -with a gift of some twenty volumes. -Unfortunately, these were entirely in German, -through which only one or two of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> -officers could even spell their way, but they -were in the nature of a godsend to M. Bloch, -a Russian dentist, who was the only foreign -officer in camp, and who spoke German as -fluently as one may speak that influent -tongue. <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Pro tem.</i>, then, I considered myself -as acting to him in the not onerous capacity -of private librarian.</p> - -<p>A few fragments of Tauchnitz editions -were very literally “fluttering” around the -camp, and on these I affixed wherever -possible the seal of my office—and a -touch of seccotine. I also sent out appeals -to the Christlichen Vereine Junger Männer, -Berlin; to Sir Alfred Davies, and the Camp -Libraries Committee, London; while I -made ordering of a formidable list of -Tauchnitz publications. Berlin responded -almost immediately with thirty volumes of -varied sort, mostly the gift apparently of -private citizens.</p> - -<p>In several of the works I observed a bookplate, -inscribed “Sophie, Mein Buch,” and -representing a very green and very flourishing -Tree of Knowledge, bearing five apples of a -more than tempting redness, a rising sun,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> -and an open volume. Somehow the bookplate -conjured up before me a vision of the -gentle Sophie, fresh as the dawn, and rosy -and ripe as the pictured apples.</p> - -<p>With this collection and the odds and ends -floating about the camp I decided to open -shop, though my shelves would only afford a -fraction of a book per man. Accordingly at -nine o’clock in the morning, immediately after -roll-call, I headed a regular rush and stampede -to the library; undid the padlock, swung -wide the door of the book cupboard, and -declared the library indeed open.</p> - -<p>As senior officer of the camp, the Colonel -had choice of the first volume, after which -it was a case of first come first served. For -a few minutes the floor space in front of my -cupboard presented something of the appearance -of a football field with a “rugger” -scrum on, and then I closed the door upon -only two books—and these the second -volumes of two-volume novels. In less than -a month, however, I had several hundred -books under my charge.</p> - -<p>One day the German interpreter handed -me a note of four volumes which he was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> -desirous of having on loan. These were: -“The Poems of Robert Burns”; “The -Adventures of Tom Sawyers”; “An Ideal -Husband,” by Oscar Wilde; and “East -Lynne,” by——Carlyle! This last rather -nonplussed me until I recalled that the name -of the greatly-wronged and long-suffering -solicitor in the novel—which one might say -had solved the problem of perpetual emotion—was -Carlyle.</p> - -<p>It was this same interpreter who, donating -to the library a small guide book of Beeskow, -first tore off the cover which carried a map -of the town and environs. “As a good -German,” he said, “it is my duty to prevent -you from escaping.”</p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">We Walk Abroad</span></h3> - -<p>Having adhibited our signatures to a form -of parole stipulating that we should not make -effort to escape, under penalty of death, -during such time as we were out for exercise, -on the third or fourth day after our arrival -we went out for a walk under conduct of -Lieut. Kruggel.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span></p> - -<p>Beeskow is a country town of four or -five thousand inhabitants, and possesses -certain streets picturesque and paintable. -There is a red-brick church, with a steeple -and a great sloping roof. On the old walls, -which still stand, are a series of towers, -on the largest of which, as if presiding -over the town, were two storks, who gazed -at us as if with curiosity over the edge of -their nest.</p> - -<p>On this first morning we elected to visit -the playing-field allotted to the camp, which -is situated about a mile distant from it. To -the professional eye of one of our number, -an old internationalist, it will serve for football, -but not for cricket.</p> - -<p>On the other side of the road, behind a -<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Gasthof</i>, and just on the edge of a strip of -forest, there was a tennis court, but it had -obviously not been played on for many a -day. We at once commenced clearing the -ground, a task in which we were soon being -aided by <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">mein Herr</i> of the <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Gasthof</i>—who is -proprietor of the court—his wife, and his -daughters.</p> - -<p>One of the girls has a rake, which she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> -playfully aims at Lieutenant Kruggel, who -promptly throws up his arms and cries, -“<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Kamarad!</i>”</p> - -<div id="Fig_147" class="figcenter" style="width: 521px;"> -<img src="images/i_147.jpg" width="521" height="650" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">THE STORK TOWER, BEESKOW.</p></div> -</div> - -<p>As we returned, a bald-headed, elderly -gentleman standing behind the gate of a -villa garden spat upon the ground, and -treated us to a mouthful or two of morning -hate. Lieutenant Kruggel apologized profusely. -Strange that the civilian should be -uncivil—the soldier never.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">Birds of a Feather</span></h3> - -<p>In the little courtyard three or four white -fan-tailed pigeons fluttered about the roofs, -like peace birds prematurely arrived from -oversea, while on the other side of the -barbed wire was a small colony of rabbits -and poultry and pigs, the property of the -German guard. Then there was Jacob, a -ferocious and fearless jackdaw with clipped -wings, who was not indisposed to be -friendly, however. Certainly we were companions -in misfortune, my wings not less -thoroughly clipped than his. Ultimately, -while I read, or even sketched, he would -lie on his back in my hand with his legs -in the air, ever and anon opening a drowsy -eye. Long before I had seen them, however, -he would have greeted several of his -own kind, if not his own kin, wheeling round -the old tower, and they would return answer.</p> - -<div id="Fig_149" class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> -<img src="images/i_149.jpg" width="600" height="370" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">PRISONERS ALL.</p></div> -</div> - -<p>Sometimes of a morning I would pick -Jacob up as I passed to the bath, and, -perched upon my finger, he would participate -with me in the rigorous joys of the -cold douche, the water rattling off his back<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> -like rain from an umbrella. Latterly there -were two jackdaws, and I have watched a -German sentry feeding them with spiders -collected in a matchbox, swinging them out -on their own thread as an angler would -cast a baited line. After the Armistice these -two delightful vagabonds suddenly and mysteriously -vanished. Rumour had it that they -appeared on a German table in a German -pie!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p> - -<div id="Fig_152" class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> -<img src="images/i_152.jpg" width="600" height="404" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">THE PRISON GATEWAY</p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>IX<br /><span class="smcap">Escapes and Escapades</span></h2> - - -<p class="dropcap">Only one officer ever escaped from -Beeskow Camp, and he only by -the dusty and tenebrous passage of -Death. He was a Rumanian, and he actually -succeeded in scaling the high wall encircling -the <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Lager</i>, but fell off into the dried moat and -broke his neck.</p> - -<p>Tunnelling under the ancient wall was the -method that seemed to hold out most promise -of success, and a number of efforts were made -in this direction. These were all detected, -however, at various stages of the mining -operations. One such discovery led to a -regular hue and cry and the hunt up for -possible “holes.” Three or four <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Posten</i>, -one of whom put a facetious finger to the -side of his nose, came clattering into the -reading-room on this errand, when we all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> -held up our feet to facilitate matters! In -explanation of the gaping hole found behind -a cupboard in one of the dormitories “rats” -were suggested.</p> - -<p>A new <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Feldwebel</i> who came to the camp -seemed to have received strict injunction to -look daily at the bars of the windows to -make certain that there had been no tampering -with them overnight. Thus he had a -habit of dropping in at unexpected moments -to the library, the dining-hall, or the dormitories, -but always with an air of looking for -some one or something else. Assuredly he -did not wish to impute to us the using upon -the windows of anything so unfriendly as a -file.</p> - -<p>One morning he came suddenly into our -room, walked awkwardly and self-consciously -to the window, by which was standing a -deck chair; then, casting a quick, sidelong -glance at the barred pane, he said smilingly -in German, “A very good chair,” and so -departed.</p> - -<div id="Fig_156" class="figcenter" style="width: 430px;"> -<img src="images/i_156.jpg" width="430" height="650" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">THE MARIENKIRCHE, BEESKOW</p></div> -</div> - -<p>This <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Feldwebel</i>, by the way, although he -arrived in July, came in like a lion, and went -out like a lamb, turning out to be the gentlest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> -German of them all. He was black-bearded -as Thor or Odin, and at his first parade, -on the appearance of the Commandant -and staff, he bellowed “<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Ach-tung!</i>” in a -stentorian voice, which, if it did not make -us shake in our shoes, certainly caused us to -smile in our sleeves. Even the camp officers -were amused, and Lieut. Kruggel laughed -outright. Next morning the poor <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Feldwebel’s</i> -“<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Ach-tung!</i>” was so subdued and so robbed -of its virility, that it was more stimulating -to our risible faculties than that of the day -before. He had obviously been requested to -modify his powerful “word of command.”</p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">The Flight that Failed</span></h3> - -<p>One day I had been sketching the interior -of the Marienkirche at Beeskow, a sentry -with loaded rifle sitting by me in the silent -church. He informed me that he also was -an artist, but with his feet and not his hands, -and that he had danced at the London -Hippodrome. That night, after roll-call, the -German, Lieutenant Stark, expressed a desire -to see the drawing.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p> - -<p>As it was dark, I practically impelled -him for a few paces to the arc-lamp at -the gate, at the very moment when three -Captains courageously made an effort to -pass through the building used as an -office, which gives on to the garden, from -whence access to the road would have been -comparatively easy. A further diversion was -created by a Lieutenant falling down in the -court as if in a fit, though this was nothing -but a feint. The office was occupied by -Germans, however, and, softly and politely -closing the door behind them, the trio turned -back. Captain Brown, by reason of his great -stature—he was six feet six inches—was -readily recognized, and next morning the -three officers were brought up for attempting -to escape, and sentenced to three days’ confinement -in the “Tower.”</p> - -<p>Imprisonment in this old strong place, by -the way, was not looked upon as a very -grievous punishment. In fact, but for the -disability of being deprived of the daily walk, -it was an improvement on our ordinary condition. -The prisoner had a room, a bed, a -table, and a chair to himself; a lamp, which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> -he could keep burning long after “lights -out,” and meals sent up to him by a member -of his mess punctually at the appointed times. -Then, as librarian, I allowed certain latitudes -in the supply of literature. To Captain -Brown, as appropriate to his position, I sent -Tighe Hopkins’ “Dungeons of Old Paris”; -then, relenting, and remembering that he was -a Scot and an Edinburgh man, I followed this -up immediately by Stevenson’s “The Master -of Ballantrae.”</p> - -<div id="Fig_159" class="figcenter" style="width: 438px;"> -<img src="images/i_159.jpg" width="438" height="650" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">THE LATE LIEUT. W. L. ROBINSON, V.C. (A FELLOW-PRISONER AT BEESKOW LAGER)</p></div> -</div> - -<p>Another bid for freedom was made by -Captain R., to whom for the purpose I lent -a red neckerchief and a civilian cap, which -had somehow escaped the authoritative eye -and got through to me. R.’s scheme was to -secrete himself under a table covered with a -blanket, at which a quartette was playing a -belated game of “Bridge” in the court under -one of the lamps and in close proximity to -the barbed fence, cut the wire, and lie -hid in the shrubbery until such time as he -might find opportunity of passing out of the -gate.</p> - -<p>We had just sat down to dinner, when -the violent ringing of the <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Appell</i> bell<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> -announced to us that the plot had been -detected. Next morning I met a German -soldier carrying a yard or two of barbed -wire—like a line newly baited—with which -to replace the cutting made by the Captain, -and at parade a camp order was read notifying -all concerned that no more tables or -chairs would be permitted in the courtyard. -Almost immediately thereafter, amid the -groans of the British officers, began a ruthless -cutting down of the few shrubs and -saplings which adorned the yard and which -could conceivably afford us any hiding.</p> - -<p>Even Lieut. Kruggel’s sunflowers and -creepers, which provided a hedge of privacy -for his little cottage, had to be sacrificed, -to his great distress and disgust. In the -afternoon three pumpkins sat forlornly upon -the three steps of the Lieutenant’s cottage, -all that had been left to him of horticultural -adornment!</p> - -<p>On another evening in October an officer, -disguised as a German <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Posten</i>, boldly -approached the gate with the somewhat optimistic -hope that he would be permitted to -pass out unchallenged. He was detected by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> -the sentry, however, and came running back, -taking off his disguise as he fled. When the -guards ultimately reached his room for a -search, he was playing “Patience.” Before -making his venture he returned me his library -book, which, I observed with interest, was -the Iliad. Unhappily, there was to be no -Odyssey for him on this occasion.</p> - -<p>One morning at breakfast a civilian arrived -in the dining-hall, accompanied by a sentry, -to execute some repairs upon the gas stoves. -He turned his back for a moment; the -<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Posten</i> is reported to have looked lovingly -and longingly into a pot of rice, and lo, -presto! a couple of pairs of pincers belonging -to the plumber had disappeared. No trace -of what they called the “tongs” being forthcoming -before morning roll-call, a search was -instituted, during which time, except for the -senior officer of each room, we were excluded -from our quarters. The pincers were discovered -next day, but for two mornings we -were deprived of our walks abroad.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span></p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">Ragging the Commandant</span></h3> - -<p>There is a piece of music of amazing -eccentricity and extravagance, yclept “By -Heck,” by Henri. It is what is known as a -“Fox Trot,” and, as recorded for the gramophone, -is played by the Metropolitan Band. -We were sufficiently mischievous one morning -to arrange that it commence its erratic riot -at an open window immediately the word -“<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Achtung!</i>” from the <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Feldwebel</i> announced -the arrival of the Commandant on parade.</p> - -<p>The scheme worked beyond wildest imaginings. -One blow from the hammer upon the old -coulter, and we tumbled out—and fell in. -Simultaneously with the second stroke the door -of the Commandant’s room opened, and he -emerged, for all the world after the fashion of -the little male figure which used to issue from -the old-fashioned weather-house when the -day promised fine, or foul, I forget which. -It was certainly to be foul this morning.</p> - -<div id="Fig_165" class="figcenter" style="width: 461px;"> -<img src="images/i_165.jpg" width="461" height="650" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">CARICATURE OF THE CAMP COMMANDANT.<br />By a Rumanian officer.</p></div> -</div> - -<p>“<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Achtung!</i>” We came to the salute, -and simultaneously there came a burst of -mirthful music from the window. The effect -on the Commandant was electrical. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> -shook his fist at the open window, and in -two or three seconds had as many convulsed -sentries tearing up the stairs to stop the -ribald strains. Meanwhile, with thumping -of timpani, drum-tap, cat-call, cock-crow, -whistle, and motor-horn, the gramophone -ground out its litany, until at last it was -pulled up with a jerk. The Commandant -had the instrument commandeered and -sequestered in the tower, but later, yielding -to the plausibilities of Lieut. D., he returned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> -it. “I think I like theatre better in the -morning,” was the new interpreter’s comment.</p> - -<p>The mere sight of our somewhat careless -parade seemed sometimes sufficient to throw -the Commandant into a frenzy. One morning -a Lieutenant was caught smoking by the -old man, who swung his arms furiously, and -passed sentence of three days’ confinement -in the tower. To relieve the tedium the -prisoner must have taken a flute with him, -for towards evening melancholy notes floated -from the barred window, the air being “The -Close of a Perfect Day!”</p> - - -<h3>“<span class="smcap">His Excellency Wishes</span>”</h3> - -<p>On a certain day in August, the result -doubtless of our continual complaint as to -conditions in the <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Lager</i>, His Excellency -General Waldhausen, Inspector of Prisoner -of War Camps, paid us a visit. Rather a -soldierly type this old General, with gruffness -and kindliness apparently continually -contending for the mastery. He shook -hands with the Colonel and some of the -senior officers, and asked the name of each -of the others—to what purpose I cannot<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> -conceive, as most of these names could -convey nothing to him.</p> - -<p>“His Excellency wishes that you are to -gather round!” Thus the interpreter. We -gathered round very intimately, something to -His Excellency’s dismay, who had not anticipated -such an encircling movement.</p> - -<p>Then His Excellency opened his mouth -and spoke to us, and signalled with his hand -to the interpreter. The interpreter looked -more than usually pallid, and more than -usually uncomfortable. He began in -trembling tones: “His Excellency wishes—His -Excellency wishes—His Excellency -wishes you to know that we consider you no -longer our enemies.”</p> - -<p>His Excellency casts glances, first at the -interpreter, then at us, to see whether his -magnanimity has been rightly understood.</p> - -<p>Then he talks again, and the interpreter, -with knocking at the knees and dismay in -the eyes, essays to interpret.</p> - -<p>“His Excellency wishes—His Excellency -wishes—that you do obey strictly the prescriptions -of the camp.” The staff smile; -His Excellency looks suspicious. “Have they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> -rightly understood?” One of the staff suggests -to him that some of the English officers -are laughing. Gruffness predominates at once.</p> - -<p>The interpreter, more visibly nervous than -ever, is incited to try again. “His Excellency -wishes—His Excellency wishes—His -Excellency wishes that——”</p> - -<p>His Excellency fumes; His Excellency -wishes that the poor interpreter—now almost -in a state of collapse—commit his message to -paper before he commit further indiscretions. -There is a lengthy confabulation and concoction -of phrase, and ultimately the interpreter -reads stammeringly:</p> - -<p>“His Excellency wishes you to know that -he considers you as no longer our enemies. -His Excellency wishes you to know that he -will do everything he can possibly for your -comforts. His Excellency wishes you to -strictly observe the prescriptions of the -camp.” Thereafter His Excellency gives -audience, and, as a result, it is understood -that a card system of parole will be adopted; -that an effort will be made to combat the -plague of fleas, and that otherwise there will -be immediate reform.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span></p> - -<div id="Fig_169" class="figcenter" style="width: 394px;"> -<img src="images/i_169.jpg" width="394" height="650" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">NARROW ALLEY, BEESKOW.</p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>X<br /><span class="smcap">In Church—a Polish Baptism</span></h2> - - -<p class="dropcap">Once a month we were privileged to -attend the ancient Marienkirche, -where a service modelled as nearly -as might be on the English Church -evensong was conducted by the German -Lutheran pastor. The service, including the -sermon, which only lasted three minutes—a -model brevity for homilies—was sympathetic, -simple, and not difficult to follow for anyone -with a slight knowledge of German.</p> - -<p>As not infrequently, I probably received -most benefit and benediction from matters -extraneous to the ritual. My ears would be -assailed by the sharp, almost metallic, tapping -upon the windows of the leaves of the -elm tree outside, which may have sported -thus to the winds of a century or more. -My roving eyes sought the Last Supper upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> -the reredos, whereon it was to be observed -that one of the Twelve is handing a morsel -to a dog, while the Disciple whom Jesus -loved has his arm affectionately through that -of his Master. The interior of the church is -entirely white, with here and there a quickening -and vivification in a note of red or blue -or brown on the altar, the pulpit, and the -organ.</p> - -<p>After the service, I wandered up the old -wooden stairs to the choir and organ loft, -remarking the carven names and other havoc -wrought by generations of choir boys, and, -indeed, impressed with a sense that their -roguish spirits were tripping up before me.</p> - -<p>The organ is old. On the manual the -sharps are in white, the naturals in black. -The blowing arrangement consists of a succession -of three movable beams, on which -I had a glimpse of the old blower, like some -ancient, dilapidated god chained to his task -and making ascent of interminable flights -of stairs. The organ had been stripped of -all but the very smallest of its metal pipes -for the making of munitions; doubtless they -have gone hurtling through the air to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> -deeper diapasons than they ever sounded -here!</p> - -<p>In the ambulatory is an ancient and -crude wooden Calvary; a great tributary -box “Für die Armen,” much bestudded -with nails, and dating from Luther’s day; -also cases with medals of Beeskow men who -have fought for the Fatherland from the -Napoleonic Wars onward. In the pulpit is -a quaint old hour-glass of four glasses; in -the vestry a church clock centuries old.</p> - -<p>As we returned from one of these services -the interpreter—the third in succession—told -me that as a young man he set out to -adventure to Iceland. He got as far as -Swinemunde, when he met a young lady, -and so, as he said, “I got engaged instead.” -“Such things happen,” he added reflectively. -I could only express the hope that never -since had he got into such hot water as he -might have experienced at the Geysers! -The interpreter’s wife, by the way, was -Madame Reinl, who has sung at Covent -Garden in such parts as Isolde, and who for -a number of years was a <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">prima donna</i> in -Berlin.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span></p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">For the Dead</span></h3> - -<p>The Sunday after the signing of the Armistice -a score of us attended morning service. -We had seats in one of the galleries facing -the pulpit, so that we could participate -without being too conspicuously present. As -it was, the congregation evinced no undue -curiosity, though the three or four choir -boys in the organ loft seemed to accept us -gratefully as something of a spectacle for -the enlivening of a dull day.</p> - -<p>The congregation was very sparse, and -consisted mostly of elderly women, sombre, -sorrowful, almost emblematic figures; sad-faced, -black clad, lonely. The vast white interior -seemed cold—was cold, so that the -organist, in his high latitudes, kept on his -coat, with the collar upturned, and during -the sermon made excursion among the -architecture of the instrument. The pastor -looked ill and depressed, and, with obviously -a sad heart, he commenced his discourse, -“This has been a heavy week for the -Fatherland.”</p> - -<p>On the following Sunday was held the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> -yearly service for the dead. There were six -or seven hundred people present, again -mostly women, and again all in black. Many -of them wept silently throughout the service, -others gave way now and again to -audible outbursts of grief. I could only see -one living German soldier, but who shall say -the spirits of how many dead were there?</p> - -<div id="Fig_175" class="figcenter" style="width: 481px;"> -<img src="images/i_175.jpg" width="481" height="650" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">SERVICE FOR THE DEAD</p></div> -</div> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">A Polish Baptism</span></h3> - -<p>In our walks abroad we have frequently -passed a humble little chapel, which has been -built for the numerous Poles who work on -the farms in the neighbourhood. One Sunday -forenoon in October, when hints and -hopes of peace were in the air, I accompanied -the padre and the Roman Catholic -party in camp to this chapel, and was -witness of a very interesting and picturesque -baptismal ceremony.</p> - -<p>The low-roofed room with its humble -altar at one end, its walls hung with the -stations of the cross, and perforated with -windows showing the golden dying glories<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> -of the trees, was crowded with these rural -folks. The women and girls were wearing -quaint and brightly-coloured skirts and -head-dresses showing pathetic effort after -fashion and fitness of attire for the occasion. -A virile femininity this, obviously built for -child-bearing. In fact, most of the women -seem to be in an interesting condition, and -the officiating priest has no fewer than five -infants to baptize. From these bundles of -babyhood, which look like white bolsters -tied with brightly-coloured ribands, comes -a continuous, but not too vehement, crying, -which, even to my not unsympathetic ear, -seems something similar to the squealing of -little pigs.</p> - -<p>Three women stand up, supported by -their lawful lords, ungainly, in unfamiliar -Sunday garments, and diminutive beside -their wives. Ever and anon one of the -women performs mystery and miracle with -her fingers in the mouth of her offspring to -the temporary appeasing of its rage.</p> - -<p>The remaining two women, who are -seated, are in deep black, and their husbands -are not forthcoming. When their turn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> -arrives, and they too stand before the priest, -there is something peculiarly pathetic in the -unconscious crying of these posthumous infants -whose fathers have doubtless fallen, -just as I can behold the leaves falling from -the trees outwith the windows.</p> - -<p>These humble folk, many of them, would -desire to remain behind for our service, but -the guard has received special instructions -from the Commandant this morning, and -the German soldiers turn them out. One -elderly dame makes a spirited demand for -admission, and, the soldier proving obdurate, -she bides her time until his back is turned, -then enters and falls upon her knees facing -the altar as if defying him to turn her -out.</p> - -<p>The padre gives us a little homily on -the approaching peace, with a further urging -of that “Peace which the world cannot -give.”</p> - -<p>On the march back to our <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Lager</i> we pass -an ancient and dilapidated hackney-coach, -open to display to an admiring world two -of our mothers, with bundles tied with blue -ribbon and red, in which the babies have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> -been entirely buried out of sight against a -biting wind.</p> - -<div id="Fig_179" class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> -<img src="images/i_179.jpg" width="600" height="360" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">OLD INN AT BEESKOW, NOW BURNED DOWN.</p></div> -</div> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">Adventures Afoot</span></h3> - -<p>On the outskirts of Beeskow was a great -<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Kaserne</i> or barracks of the Garde-Feldartillerie-Regiments, -from which in the -morning we could sometimes hear the bugle -sing reveille. This is not dissimilar to our -own, and carries the same suggestion in -it of the ascending sun. In those dreary<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> -and difficult days the same heavy and -uneasy suggestion also, that it falls upon -many ears as unwishful to hear it as -they would the Last Trump on Judgment -Morn.</p> - -<p>Sometimes we would meet a company of -German soldiers coming back from a route -march or returning from the shooting range—a -likely enough looking lot, marching -stoutly and singing lustily. When the <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Unteroffizier</i> -saw us he would give the order to -march to attention, which was very smartly -carried out. In walking through the town -we were continually followed by the little -children, who would clatter after us in -their sabots, in manner reminiscent of the -“Pied Piper of Hamelin,” making demand -for “<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Kuchen</i>.” They would even break -into our ranks, and insinuate their hands -into our tunic pockets in search of the -biscuits which were sometimes tossed to -them.</p> - -<p>During a walk one afternoon we were overtaken -by a sharp shower, and sought shelter -under the trees around some cottages. A -little girl watched us with a timid wonder,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> -which ultimately gave place to half-confidence. -The rain increasing in violence, the -mother threw open her door in invitation, -while she and the little girl retired to the -kitchen, leaving us the lobby, in which we -sheltered until the worst of the storm was -over.</p> - -<p>One day we met an aged woman bearing -a burden of faggots through the forest. -When she cast eyes on us she suddenly put -her hand to her face and burst into bitter -tears. One afternoon we passed an old road-mender, -whose carefully built piles of stones -had much of the order and durability of a -wall, and on whose bent back was a tangible -token of the passage of years as big as any -of his boulders.</p> - -<p>On another occasion when we walked to -the tennis court the German Lieutenant’s -wife was waiting for him at the <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Gasthof</i>, -and the two partook of refreshment together -at a little table under the trees. When -we marched back we found that she was -still accompanying him on the side-walk, -which seemed to give to the whole parade -a decidedly homely suggestion.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p> - -<p>On Saturday afternoons we played football -with the orderlies, when, in view of my -advancing years and other discretions, I -occasionally acted in the more retired position -of full back. Pleasanter for me, however, -was it to lie on my back in the forest, -watching the young fir trees swaying to -the wind like the masts of ships, while ever -and anon they struck with a noise suggestive -of the crossing of swords.</p> - -<p>One of our orderlies, by the way, had been -captured at Mons, and was a typical soldier -of the period. He and his mate were lying -in a ditch, up to the middle in mud and -water, and under heavy fire. “I says to -him, ‘Put a little artificial flower on me -grave—I’m fond o’ roses myself.’” His -teeth were knocked out by the butt of a -soldier’s rifle, and he was flung into a church. -When he first saw a loaf he “charged it,” -toothless gums and all. He is still in the “eye -for an eye, tooth for a tooth,” attitude -towards his enemies. And he has lost practically -a whole set!</p> - -<p>Another orderly, who had recently been -on commando, showed me his leg, which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> -was badly scalded. “That’s the sort of -thing we do, sir,” he said, “to prevent -being sent down the mines!”</p> - -<div id="Fig_183" class="figcenter" style="width: 479px;"> -<img src="images/i_183.jpg" width="479" height="650" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">“IN SINCE MONS!”</p></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span></p> - -<div id="Fig_184" class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> -<img src="images/i_184.jpg" width="600" height="466" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">KIRCHESTRASSE, BEESKOW.<br />One of many such sketches made -freely in the streets after the Armistice.</p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>XI<br /><span class="smcap">The Revolution</span></h2> - - -<p class="dropcap">From scraps of conversation with the -sentries and the interpreter, we knew -by the middle of October that -the Germans would sign an armistice whatever -the terms might be. One afternoon the -“Top” and “Bottom” of the house were -engaged in a hockey match. As I stood -on the road watching the contested field, -passed me a cart driven by a French soldier -prisoner of war. A German boy, burdened -with a great sack of <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Kartoffeln</i> for Beeskow, -gave hail, and the soldier pulled up and -waited patiently until both boy and burden -were on board. As he moved off he saluted -me, and cried cheerily, “Bientôt, la paix!”</p> - -<p>I approached Lieut. Stark and asked him -when the game was likely to finish. “I -suppose,” said he in his slow, deliberate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> -English, “when they have won enough.” -The German civilian, who had some days -before surreptitiously slipped us a copy of the -<cite>Times</cite>, was here again to-day, and obviously -anxious to unburden himself to some one. -Lieut. Stark, however, succeeded in hedging -him off until the return journey, when we -in front overtook him on the footpath. -While still two or three yards behind him, -I said, “Change your umbrella to your left -hand!” As we passed we were thus able -to slip him a couple of packets of tea in exchange -for another copy of the paper, and -also to arrange that in future he place the -paper behind a certain tree. These papers -were about a fortnight old usually, but -they were very precious to us, and were -circulated in rotation to every officer in the -<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Lager</i>.</p> - -<p>On Saturday evening, the 9th November, -an <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Extrablatt</i>, announcing the “Abdankung -des Kaisers,” found its way into camp, and -created some little excitement. At Beeskow -we were within breathing distance of Berlin, -one might say, and we almost seemed to be -haunted by a vision of that haunted man who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> -had striven, in his own egotistical way, to -fashion his country, and who seemed destined -to see it shattered into shards. There was -a rumour that the officer at the <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Kaserne</i> had -been deposed, and, in expectation of trouble, -all the shops in Beeskow closed at six o’clock. -In the dark outside we heard two or three -shots, but no one seemed able to explain -them.</p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">The Passing of the Commandant</span></h3> - -<p>On Sunday morning, as it transpired, we -paraded before the old Commandant for -the last time. Shortly after <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Appell</i> he was -waited upon by a delegation from the men, -headed by a stout corporal who in peace -time is a North Sea fisherman, and informed -that his services were no longer required. -With a touch of pride the corporal told me -of his part in the deposition.</p> - -<p>When informed that he must resign, -“<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Warum?</i>” inquired the Commandant. -This was explained, but he still demurred. -“I must wait,” said he, “for instructions -from headquarters.” “We give you your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> -instructions,” replied the corporal, “and -you must go.”</p> - -<p>Thereupon the old man wept. “<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Er -weinet</i>,” said the corporal, and he drew a -finger from his eye downward to demonstrate. -Greater than the Commandant wept -in these days, I take it!</p> - -<p>While we talked, standing on the road -by the playing-field, came along the civilian, -who succeeded eventually in transferring to -my possession a copy of the <cite>Times</cite> for 29th -October containing a sensational discussion -in the Reichstag, and also a slip of paper -folded to a spill on which he had pencilled -the terms of the armistice.</p> - -<p>Over the barracks we found that the -Imperial flag had been shorn of its black -and white strips, and that only a thin red -shred stood out menacingly in the wind from -the staff.</p> - -<p>A picket, with arms piled, was posted at -the forked roads, and from the caps of all -the soldiers the badges had been torn. These -men more than ever seemed disposed to be -fraternal; indeed, as we passed the <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Kaserne</i> -some of the soldiers at the windows shouted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> -out that they would be glad to play us a -game of football now.</p> - -<p>They deposed the Major who was in -charge of the barracks, and the Medical -Officer—he of the dashing manner and the -Airedale terrier, who visited us for inoculatory -purposes—had also to go. The Major -and his young daughter were in a hotel when -the soldiers demanded an audience. The -Major endeavoured to escape by a back -entrance, but was held, and had the humiliation -of having his epaulets torn off, while -his sword was broken and the pieces handed -to the children standing around. So we had -the story.</p> - -<p>In our own camp Lieut. Stark, who was a -ranker, and also reputed to be sympathetic -to the revolution, was elected Commandant -by the men’s committee—distinguished by -white bands on their arms—in spite of the -fact that Lieut. Kruggel was his superior in -rank. The men took off Kruggel’s epaulets -and badges, and then saluted him.</p> - -<p>It was in these troublous times that Captain -U., who was being transferred to -another camp on account of his health,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> -succeeded in jumping off the train when it -slowed down somewhere in the neighbourhood -of Storkow. The train was stopped, -but no very effectual search was made, and -the Captain, retracing his steps, had almost -reached Lubben, when he was overtaken -and held up by a gamekeeper on a bicycle, -and carrying a gun. He was brought back -to camp, and had a great reception, particularly -from the members of his own mess, -we having prepared a sort of composite meal -of breakfast, lunch, tea, and dinner. U. was -looking none the worse for two or three -nights’ and days’ exposure, and attributed -his healthful appearance to “having had -something to do.” Lieutenant Stark imposed -no punishment, his only comment -being, “This is not the good time for escaping; -there will be peace in two days.”</p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">Latitudes and Liberties</span></h3> - -<p>Under the new regime our privileges were -considerably extended. A few days after the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> -Armistice, for instance, we were permitted to -be present at a cinematographic entertainment.</p> - -<p>The show was held in a rather dull and -sad little hall, on the roof and walls of which, -however, some artist had made valiant efforts -at decoration with impossible pots and vases -of impossible roses—neither white, nor red, -nor even blue.</p> - -<p>Behind the screen was a suggestion of a -small stage, on which, doubtless, tragedy -histrionic had been achieved in the days -before tragedy overtook the town and -the country generally. A dispirited-looking -woman seemed to be in charge of affairs, -and under her rather anxious direction our -orderlies—all out for the afternoon—wheeled -a piano into the hall, on which -Lieutenant Davies and a German soldier, who -has studied at the Berlin Conservatorium, -alternately played melodies classic and -cinematographic during the performance. -A preliminary notice flung on the screen, -“Rauchen ist Verboten,” went unheeded.</p> - -<p>The first film, which gave rather charming -glimpses of German family life, represented -the adventures and misadventures of a poor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> -little girl, who, after drinking a magic -elixir, dreamt that she had become the -daughter of a Graf. Mark Twain’s “Prince -and the Pauper” in more modern guise. -Second item, the efforts of a policeman to -bring home his sheaves with him in the -shape of a very sly and slippery tramp. The -third, a <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Lustspiel</i> in four most amatory -acts, introducing the customary machinery, -so well known to the cinema stage, of love -missives, magnificent motor-cars, bedrooms -and bathrooms; keyholes betwixt these -apartments; the never-failing porter with -the inevitable trunk which forms the last -inevitable stronghold and sanctuary for the -inevitable hapless lover pursued by the inevitable -unhappy husband.</p> - -<p>Altogether, not too bad an entertainment -for the money, which was one mark per -head—<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Lagergeld</i>, we having not yet been -supplied with ordinary currency. This was -the first night I had been out after dark -since my capture, and it was pleasant to -step free upon the pavement, and to see -the comfortable lights in the shops. At a -second cinema entertainment, we had—by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> -request—a series of pictures showing German -soldiers at work and play in rest billets.</p> - -<p>In the outskirts of the forest stood the -Gesellschaft Gasthaus, with, in the window, -announcement of an entertainment in the -form of an acrobatic act by “Les Original -Alfonso Geissler.” The handbill, highly -coloured, represented in one part of it, -Monsieur, in evening dress, and with all the -suavity of the dove, making request for a -glass of beer from Mademoiselle at a public -bar; in a second tableau discovers him, -sloughed of his garb of respectability and, -arrayed in multi-coloured tights, displaying -all the cunning and pliancy of the serpent -in marvellous contortions among the barroom -properties. The proprietor informed -us that he and his wife and three sons—one -the hero of the handbill—were all travelling -acrobats, that they had appeared frequently -in England, and that they were in Sweden -when the war broke out. It was observable -that during the entertainment—which, despite -the bill, proved to be entirely cinematographic—the -proprietor obtained his -incidental music by making demand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> -upon several of the talented among the -audience.</p> - -<p>In this connection a rather notable incident -occurred, though here it seemed to pass -without note. A boy of about fourteen, who -had earned his admission by operating the -cinema for the major part of the evening, -came quietly forward, took the violin from -the rather faltering hand of a young soldier -who had been agonizing for the last hour, -and commenced to play with a sure and -virile bow. He proved to be a friend of our -German soldier pianist, and like him has -studied at the Berlin Conservatorium.</p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">Sketching in the Streets</span></h3> - -<p>I was now allowed to sketch freely in -the streets without hindrance or interruption, -save for the presence of the younglings, -which, after all, need not prove distracting -or disconcerting. On the contrary, it may -be even stimulating. Their criticism, for -one thing, is largely enthusiastic, and this -sometimes proves contagious. “<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Fein!</i>” -“<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Hübsch!</i>” The pencil probably makes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> -effort to prove worthy of such compliment. -Then again, there is generally something -patient and gently apologetic in the presence -of a child, while one grown-up looking over -the shoulder is usually sufficient for disconcertment.</p> - -<p>I am sketching the Kirchestrasse. The -name, however, is not visible at my end -of the street, and I make inquiry of the -little girl who for the last ten minutes -has been standing quietly by my side. -She misunderstands me at first, and -upon my sketch-block writes her own name, -“Charlotte Reseler.” There let it remain -to add the value of a memory to the -drawing.</p> - -<p>On one such sketching expedition I was -overtaken by a motor-waggon, packed with -German soldiers, straight from the front, -who seemed somewhat surprised to see me -thus walking alone through the streets of -the town with a sketch-block under my arm. -The waggon was decorated with fir branches, -while chalked upon the sides were such -inscriptions as “Nach der Heimat!” In -the streets also were decorations, flags and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> -fir festoons, and garlands bearing the legend, -“Willkommen!” One thing, however, -cannot be lifted from these streets, nor -lightened into them, and that is the dejection -of defeat; the flush of victory.</p> - -<div id="Fig_196" class="figright" style="width: 350px;"> -<img src="images/i_196.jpg" width="350" height="386" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">THE OLDEST HOUSE IN -BEESKOW.</p></div> -</div> - -<p>I was sketching what is, since the burning -of the “Grüne -Baum,” the oldest -house in Beeskow. -I had hardly started, -when the proprietor -of the shop -in the lower part -of the building -came running over, -and, talking too -rapidly for my -entire comprehension, -gave me to understand at least that -he desired something added to my sketch. He -disappeared, and in a few minutes there was -unfurled from an upper window a great -chocolate and white flag of Brandenburg. -A little boy had all this while stood quietly -by my side, save when, quite unbidden, he -went over, and placed himself by the front<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> -of the house, just at the proper spot, that I -might put him into the picture.</p> - -<p>He spoke now, but whether for my information -or encouragement I know not.</p> - -<p>“England,” said he, “hat gewonnen—Deutschland -hat verloren!”</p> - -<p>I turned to look at him; he was but -nine or ten, yet his voice sounded so -forlornly that to me, standing in this street -of gathering dusk and down-trodden snow, -there came a sense of the awful tragedy of -defeat!</p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">A Soldiers’ Ball</span></h3> - -<p>I cannot dance, but there is always a -portion of the ball, at least, to the beholder. -Captain Sugrue and I had looked into the -<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Gasthaus</i> at the Railway Crossing. It was -an animated scene which met our eyes. The -saloon was decorated with flags and festoons -of red roses, while about eighty couples, -composed of German soldiers and their sweethearts—these -last with countenances of a colour -to match the decorations—danced on almost -without cessation. Certainly there were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> -intervals, but these were of the shortest -duration. The cavaliers would approach, -possibly with a short bow; more frequently -the overture was merely a smart tap upon -the shoulder, and they were off. A little -orchestra of piano, violins and ’cello, was -housed on a little stage, upon which at one -time there mounted the Master of the Ceremonies -to announce the finding of a lady’s -girdle.</p> - -<p>Captain Sugrue and I also made various -excursions afoot to townships within a radius -of ten or twelve miles from Beeskow. One -of these expeditions took us to the little -village of Radinkendorf, where, after some -research, we found a very modest little -<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Gasthof</i>, where an old woman undertook to -supply us with coffee.</p> - -<p>Whilst we waited, and she worked her -coffee-mill, she invited us in motherly fashion -into an inner room for warmth. Presently -the coffee was prepared, and while we sipped -it, “Where do you live?” inquired the aged -woman.</p> - -<p>“Zu Beeskow,” I replied. “We are -prisoners.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Ah, das macht nichts,” said the dame -kindly. “Das macht nichts. We are all -human. Warum ist der Krieg?” distressfully, -and touching her forehead with her finger -as if in despair of a solution. “Why is the -war? Why? Why?”</p> - -<p>I could not tell her.</p> - -<p>On another occasion Tim and I footed it -to the small town of Friedland, which at -one time, apparently, has had a Jewish -population. As we sat together in the dusk -by the stove in the <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Gasthaus</i>, there entered -a German soldier obviously fresh—but as -obviously fatigued—from the front. He -approached, recognizing our calling, but -anticipating kinship, and was rather nonplussed -on discovering our nationality. He -told us that for the last days his company -had been retiring at the rate of thirty kilometres -a day, and leaving almost everything -behind them.</p> - -<p>Before returning we paid a visit to the -<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Rathaus</i>—in the Middle Ages the Castle -of the Herren von Köckeritz. With his -walking-stick Tim measured the walls—which -are of amazing thickness—to the no small<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> -surprise of several members of the clerical -staff who appeared at the window.</p> - -<div id="Fig_200" class="figcenter" style="width: 411px;"> -<img src="images/i_200.jpg" width="411" height="650" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">MURILLO’S “IMMACULATE CONCEPTION OF THE VIRGIN.”<br /> -Painted by a French officer, prisoner of war, on the outer wall of -the camp in 1915.</p></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span></p> - -<div id="Fig_202" class="figcenter" style="width: 464px;"> -<img src="images/i_202.jpg" width="464" height="650" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">CAPTAIN TIM SUGRUE</p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>XII<br /><span class="smcap">In Berlin during the Revolution</span></h2> - - -<p class="dropcap">On a Friday evening of early December, -my dear friend and fellow-prisoner, -Captain Tim Sugrue, and I conspired -to take French leave from the German -prison <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Lager</i> and make a bolt for Berlin. Six -o’clock next morning found us at the station; -a little diplomacy and we had obtained tickets—singles -only, as we must return by a different -route.</p> - -<p>From Beeskow to Berlin is a run of two -hours and a half. For the latter part of the -journey we are with business men. There is -unfolding of newspapers, and we catch sight -of occasional headlines. Street fighting in -Berlin last night; 14 killed, 50 wounded. -Anything may be expected to happen to-day—which -means that anything may be expected -to happen to us.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span></p> - -<p>As we pass Karlshorst an obliging German -directs our attention to it as the German -Derby; as we enter the environs of the town -he has a pointing hand for various features -of interest.</p> - -<p>Bahnhof Friedrichstrasse. As we make our -way out through the barriers among the -crowd, a tall, handsome gentleman and a -young lady—equally handsome—who is obviously -his daughter, seem to convey to us -a telepathic smile of friendliness. In a few -minutes we find them beside us in the throng; -there comes a whisper in not entirely perfect -English, “Thank God, Britain has won!”—and -then they are gone. With a quick understanding -the girl collector at the barrier -permits me to retain my ticket as a -souvenir.</p> - -<p>We have had no breakfast; we are hungry; -we make so bold as to enter a restaurant -near the station. The waiter attends us, -without apparent curiosity, and as of long -custom. For three marks we have a fried -haddock, some salad, and a cup of coffee. -We could easily have paid as much in London -for as little—we could easily have paid more.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> -For proof of my veracity to future historians, -I slip a menu card into my pocket.</p> - -<p>From the instruction of a rather intelligent -<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Posten</i> at Beeskow I have taken the -precaution to prepare a rough plan of the -centre of this most centralized of all great -cities. We pass up Friedrichstrasse, and at -the point where it intersects Unter den -Linden pause for a moment, undecided as to -left or right. It immediately becomes apparent -that we must not pause, even for a -moment. We are already the centre of a -curious little crowd.</p> - -<p>“What can I do for you, Captain?” -Hat in hand, a youth of seventeen or eighteen -approaches. We explain that we are simply -up for the day, so to speak, and as I can see -what is obviously the <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Dom</i> on our left, we -make off at a sharp pace down the boulevard.</p> - -<p>The people have seen British officers before; -it is only when it dawns upon them -that we are unaccompanied by a guard that -their eyes begin to open. There is no hint -of hostility, however. Twice during the day -we are directly asked by civilians if we are -in advance of a possible army of occupation.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span></p> - -<p>The <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Dom</i> is the St. Paul’s of Berlin, but -it is less impressive. The organist is here, -however, blowing what are doubtless his own -very real personal sorrows to the roof. As -he passes into a fugal passage I observe that, -as at Beeskow, the pipes of the instrument -have taken flight.</p> - -<p>The picture gallery is closed to-day, but -entrance is to be had to the gallery of sculpture, -and entrance we make. Tim is obviously -impatient; sculpturesque life is not sufficiently -full-blooded for him. Consequently I approach -an attendant, and request that he -discover to us the most celebrated items of -his collection. Whereupon is opening of doors, -unlocking of cabinets, up-pulling of blinds, -and letting in of more light generally.</p> - -<p>Most celebrated of all is a Grecian sculpture -of 480 <span class="smcap">B.C.</span>, taken from the Louvre in -1870. When I suggest, as delicately as may -be, that there is danger of it having to make -further journeyings, the attendant sighs, and -softly replaces the covering curtains. Young -Hercules killing the snakes; a Badender -Knabe; Göttin als Flora ergänzt; Trauernde -Dienerin vom Grabmal der Nikarete aus Athens;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> -a few hasty impressions—but how refreshing; -white clouds in a summer sky—and Tim has -haled me forth into the streets.</p> - -<p>On the galleries, as on all similar public -buildings, has been posted a placard in vivid -red, “Nationales Eigentum!” National -Possession.</p> - -<p>It almost might seem as if in these penurious -days for Germany, inventory of the -national possessions had been taken, and, -having been found to be but scanty, decision -had been arrived at to hold fast to what few -poor things appeared to be real and tangible! -Everywhere also one finds vehement posters -in red, inciting—to order! Pictured soldiers, -open-eyed with terror, open-mouthed with -message, beating alarum drums; sailors frantically -waving flag signals of distress.</p> - -<p>Palaces, memorials, museums, bridges; -with much that is to be admired, Berlin -seems so heavily encrusted and over-weighted -with ponderous decoration, as to convey an -impression almost that the ground may give -way underfoot. That the solid foundations of -things have given way must be more than an -impression with many of these drawn-faced,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> -dejected-looking passers-by. In the architecture -there is a suggestion of London, -of Paris, of ancient Rome—a suggestion of -ancient Rome that is strongest, however, in -a chill and deadly feeling of decline and fall. -On many of the buildings, and particularly -on the Königl. Marstall, is the markings of -machine-gun fire—the guns have played upon -the windows quite apparently like fire hose -for the putting out of a difficult conflagration. -On one of the palaces is stuck a sheet of -paper written upon boldly and carelessly -with blue pencil:</p> - -<p class="center">“<span class="smcap">Für Ebert und Hasse.</span>”</p> - -<p><i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Nationales Eigentum</i> with a vengeance! -Whether they are using the Royal suite -for bureau or bedroom, or both, I know -not.</p> - -<p>At all points, and indeed acting as police -for the city, are soldiers and sailors of the -security service with white bands on their -arms. Large parties of these men patrol -the streets, with a peculiar movement in -the column due to juxtaposition of the -measured military step, and the easy swing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> -of the sailor. We would pass such companies -with a more or less unseeing eye, -but we are continually assailed by cheery -greetings of “Wie geht’s?” and “Guten -Morgen!”</p> - -<p>If we pause before a public building, a -soldier or sailor immediately approaches and -asks if we desire to enter. In suchwise we -get glimpse of a number of the important -public institutions, including the modern and -rather magnificent Royal Library. In the -Royal Opera House, despite the revolution, -performances are announced for to-night of -Verdi’s “Otello,” for to-morrow (Sunday) -night of “Rigoletto.”</p> - -<p>Some of the streets running off Unter den -Linden bear marks of yesterday’s fighting; -some of them are still big with agitation; -groups and queues of gesticulating soldiers -and civilians. We pass the Legations and -through the Brandenburger Tor into the -Tiergarten, and take leisurely view of the -Reichstag, looking deserted and dejected, -and as if all the glory of debate had departed -from it for ever. Here is the Siegessäule -and the Denkmal to Bismarck, Moltke,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> -and the long lineage of German warriors. -Here also is the Hindenburg statue, looking -decidedly forlorn and rather foolish. Tim -and I decide that it would hardly be expedient -for us to drive in a couple of nails!</p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">Liebknecht and Rosa Luxemburg</span></h3> - -<p>Now approaches a great procession of -men and women, silent, sad, slow-moving, -sombre-hued save for the red banners which -here and there droop into the ranks and -show through the trees like gouts of blood. -It is the Spartacusbundes Party, with Liebknecht -and Rosa Luxemburg at their head. -They are doubtless come to mourn their dead -of yesterday and to demand redress and -revenge. The procession winds its way -through the paths, and ultimately the speakers -take up position beside the statue of one of -the Margraves, where Liebknecht’s father -agitated before him in less agitated times -than these.</p> - -<p>Liebknecht speaks now, fiercely and with -arms outflung and disturbed as the leafless -branches of the trees which form a background. -There is a wild scream and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> -crowd commences to stampede. The motor-waggons -of the Security Service of the Social -Democratic Party are coming up, grim and -grinning with machine-guns. A terrified -crowd is a very terrible thing.</p> - -<p>My last experience of its blind whirl and -bewilderment was when the Germans shelled -Béthune with big guns at long range on a -market Monday of August, 1916. We looked -like having trouble now. “Through force of -habit they will doubtless take their sighting -shots on us,” I said to Tim.</p> - -<p>The soldiers have had orders, however, -not to shoot unless they were attacked, and -the crowd gradually regains reassurance. -Standing on the outskirts of the throng, I -bought an album of views of Berlin from a -poor little girl, and immediately after a -similar collection from an old woman equally -poor and equally insistent.</p> - -<p>My last recollection of Liebknecht is of -a gesticulating volcanic figure, and of a livid -face, with the wild eyes and the distorted -mouth of a Greek tragic mask. He was -killed a few weeks later, within a few hundred -yards of where we heard him speak.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span></p> - -<p>We have during the day made incursions -to various cafés, the “Victoria,” and the -one-time very cosmopolitan “Bauer.” In -this last, at just an hour before train time -we are seated, at question whether, our adventure -having proved so successful so far, -it be not financially possible to carry it into -another day. We decide that if we go fasting -during the morrow—a proceeding familiarity -with which has rendered not too fearful—-we -shall have purses sufficient to pay for a -bed in the hotel, and our return fares to -Beeskow.</p> - -<p>We have been sitting meanwhile amid a -cheerless concourse. The people enter, take -their refreshment without any appearance of -refreshing, and so depart. “See,” says a -Russian, just released from Ruhleben, who -has entered into conversation, “how they are -dazed; how they are dreaming! All of -Germany is as a great empty building!”</p> - -<p>The streets are crowded, and there is much -excitement in the air. Outside the Friedrichstrasse -Station we make purchase of a series -of severe caricatures of the Kaiser, watched -by quite a crowd who seem to recognize the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> -irony of the situation. We have no difficulty -in getting into a hotel, and we make no delay -in getting into a very inviting bed.</p> - -<div id="Fig_213" class="figcenter" style="width: 334px;"> -<img src="images/i_213.jpg" width="334" height="650" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="center">A CARICATURE OF THE KAISER.<br />Bought in the streets of -Berlin.</p></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span></p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">Captivity de Luxe!</span></h3> - -<p>Behold next morning two British <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Gefangenen</i> -in the capital of Germany, pillowed -luxuriously in bed, pulling the bell-rope -insistently, and, a waiter appearing, making -demands for an immediate serving of coffee. -Not only so, but having search made in the -German Bradshaw for the hour of departure -of the train which was to convey us back to -prison, and the time at which we could attend -a celebration of Mass.</p> - -<p>St. Hedewick is a great circular cathedral, -not without a certain impressiveness, -particularly when crowded as it was on our -arrival. The service was in progress, and -from the great organ came a sound like a -rushing mighty wind. When we emerged -it was raining, and we decided to call as invited -on our Russian friend of yesterday. -We made our way to the address circuitously -and laboriously, receiving direction—and misdirection—from -a sailor sentry, who left his -post and accompanied us for a ten-minutes’ -march to put us on the proper car. “I have -to Hartlepool and Gateshead been,” he said.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span></p> - -<p>The Russian family were delighted to see -us, and extended what hospitalities they -could, generously and graciously. They advised -us to leave Berlin by the afternoon -train, as the revolutionary storm which was -obviously brewing was expected to burst -blood-red that day. “I will see you to the -station, then I shall not leave the house -again.”</p> - -<p>A nephew entering at this time, he undertook -charge of us. As we stood on the platform -of the tram, there tore alongside of us -a motor-car, driven furiously, and full of -soldiers and sailors who bombarded us with -copies of the revolutionary paper, the <cite>Rote -Fahne</cite> (Red Flag), and with leaflets making -call for a great mass meeting of the Spartacusbund.</p> - -<p>I secured a copy. Among the named -speakers were Rosa Luxemburg, Liebknecht, -Levi, Duncker.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span></p> -<p>Arrived at the Gorlitzer Station, we found -that there would be no train till evening, and -at our guide’s suggestion we three drank -chocolate—at five marks for three cups, including -a 50-pfennig tip to the waiter—and -listened to the melancholy music in the great -café which used to be called the “Piccadilly,” -but which at the outbreak of the war -was renamed “Das Vaterland.”</p> - -<p>Returning to the station, we decided that -our friend had best make purchase of the -tickets, to prevent possible conflict.</p> - -<p>While we waited there leapt upon us an -aggressive young woman.</p> - -<p>“Are you English officers?” she demanded.</p> - -<p>“We are,” said we.</p> - -<p>“Thank God for that!” she cried. -“I’m English too, though I’m married to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> -a German; and I love my country better -than I love my husband, and think I shall -come home!”</p> - -<p>As this presented a marital problem too -profound for our plumbing, we made the -pretext of our friend’s return with the tickets -to beat a hasty retreat.</p> - -<p>We arrived back in Beeskow about ten -o’clock, rang the bell and demanded admittance -as good and dutiful <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Gefangenen</i>. The -<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Posten</i> opened the gate, and when he -beheld us twain he very decidedly and indubitably -closed a knowing eye!</p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">Freedom and Farewell</span></h3> - -<p><em>It has come at last!</em> And now that it -has at last come it has not brought that -immediate and amazing emotion of exultation -which we had imagined and anticipated -so long. We are leaving for <em>Home</em>—<em>To-day</em>—in -a few hours! The brain receives the -message, grasps it apparently, and passes it -on to the heart. The heart hears, doubtless, -yet it only says, soberly, even sadly, “Yes, -that is so.” Perhaps later, after many days;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> -after months; in after-years, maybe, there -will be the full realization that we have come -out of captivity, and we shall be moved even -to tears!</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, our boxes have to be filled; -our cupboards have to be emptied. My last -recollection of the German soldiery—these -legions of a would-be modern Rome—is of -their standing around while we piled into their -outspread arms our old pots and pans, boxes -of broken biscuits, and fragments of hardened -bread. <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">Sic transit!</i></p> - -<p>Four o’clock. We pass through the gate -of the old Bischofsschloss for the last time. -As we go down the street one of the officers -shows me the great padlock which he has -carried off in his pocket as a souvenir! If -he had been a Samson, he would doubtless -have preferred the gate itself!</p> - -<p>The people stand at doors and windows -and wave us farewell. Auf Wiedersehen! -Some of the passers-by insist on shaking us -by the hand and wishing us God-speed. We -have become familiar to them—and not too -fearful—during the past five months. At -the station there is something of a crowd;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> -as the train moves out there is something of -a cheer.</p> - -<p>By nine o’clock we are once more in Berlin. -We hire a whole squadron of dilapidated -hackney coaches and move in somewhat -whimsical procession for an hour through the -already dark and almost deserted streets.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Warnemünde. We pass immediately from -the train to the quay, where the Danish ship -<em>Prins Christian</em> is lying with steam up. A -Danish officer is in waiting at the gangway, -and as each officer answers to his name he -passes over the ship’s side—a free man once -more.</p> - -<p>Lieut. Kruggel descends to the saloon to -bid us good-bye. He shakes hands all round.</p> - -<p>“Es ist vollbracht,” I said.</p> - -<p>“Es ist vollbracht,” he replied.</p> - -<p>And with a military salute, he turned, and, -a suggestion of sadness in the stoop of his -shoulders, made his way up the companion -ladder.</p> - -<p class="center">THE END.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Two days later, in the train for Copenhagen, I gave up my -seat willingly to a little boy with a face of great intellectuality, -who was obviously in a very delicate state of health. This was -accepted gratefully for the lad by the two Danish gentlemen -who had him in charge. They told me that he was the son of -Herr Duncker, Professor of Philosophy in the Berlin University, -and one of the leaders of the Spartacusbund; that they were -taking him to Copenhagen, where his elder brother already was, -partly because he was suffering from malnutrition, but principally -for safety, neither his father nor mother expecting to survive -the Revolution. A sister of eighteen or nineteen stays with her -parents. The boy’s guardians also informed me that the lad, -who was only nine years old, already wrote verse which would -not be discreditable to a young man, and that his brother had in -a few months become the chief scholar in the Copenhagen school.</p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> - -<div class="boxitad"> -<p class="center xlargefont boldfont">BALLADS OF BATTLE<br /> -<span class="mediumfont">AND</span><br /> -WORK-A-DAY WARRIORS</p> - -<p class="center largefont boldfont">By Lieut. JOSEPH LEE</p> - -<p class="center largefont boldfont" style="margin-top:1em"><em>SOME PRESS OPINIONS</em></p> - -<p><cite>The Times.</cite>—“There is real fibre and lifeblood in them, and they never -fail to hold the attention.”</p> - -<p><cite>The Spectator.</cite>—“Of the verse that has come straight from the trenches, -the <span class="smcap">Ballads of Battle</span> are among the very best.”</p> - -<p><cite>Morning Post.</cite>—“There is staunch stuff in this little book of verse from -the trenches.... Here is a soldier and a poet and a black-and-white artist -of merit, and we wouldn’t exchange him for a dozen professional versifiers -who ... cannot write with a spade or draw with a bayonet or blow martial -music out of a mouth-organ.”</p> - -<p><cite>Manchester Guardian.</cite>—“There is no shadow of doubt but that Sergeant -Joseph Lee’s <span class="smcap">Ballads of Battle</span> are the real thing.... In its way this -little book is one of the most striking publications of the war.”</p> - -<p><cite>Leeds Mercury.</cite>—“Many war poems have been published of late, but -few approach the <span class="smcap">Ballads of Battle</span> in point of imagination, and -vitality of expression. There is a grim realism in the Sergeant’s poems, -as well as an intensity of vision that is at times almost startling.”</p> - -<p><cite>The Bookman.</cite>—“Sergeant Lee is in the succession, spiritual descendant -of those balladists and lyricists who have made the name of Scotland -bright.... As for the manner of the book, it is good—it is very good, -it is notable.”</p> - -<p><cite>Glasgow Herald.</cite>—“Sergeant Lee’s verses are as frank and straight as -we would wish a soldier-poet’s work to be; but behind all the humour and -grim realism there is a poet’s ideal humanised by a Scot’s tenderness, and the -serious poems are worthy of any company. Their courageous cheerfulness -is inspiring.”</p> - -<p><cite>The Tatler.</cite>—“A little volume which I shall always hope to keep. -Mostly these vivid little poems were composed well within the firing line; -all of them are haunting—some because of their jocular soldier-spirit, others -for their wonderful realization of the silent tragedy of war.”</p> - -<p><cite>Sheffield Telegraph.</cite>—“A human, throbbing thing from the trenches. -It strikes vibrant notes of laughter and tears; now it weeps, and now it is -full of the exuberant joy of life; it is a living document authentic and deep.”</p> -</div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub--> - -<div class="transnote"> -<h2 id="TN_end" style="margin-top: 0em">Transcriber’s Notes:</h2> - -<p>The one footnote has been moved to the end of the text and relabeled.</p> - -<p>Illustrations have been moved to paragraph breaks near where they are -mentioned.</p> - -<p>Punctuation has been made consistent.</p> - -<p>Variations in spelling and hyphenation were retained as they appear in -the original publication, except that obvious typos have been -corrected.</p> - -<p>Changes have been made as follows:</p> - -<p><a href="#Ref_83">p. 83</a>: “untolerable” changed to “intolerable” (an intolerable outrage)</p> -</div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Captive at Carlsruhe and Other -German Prison Camps, by Joseph Lee - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CAPTIVE AT CARLSRUHE *** - -***** This file should be named 51222-h.htm or 51222-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/2/2/51222/ - -Produced by MWS, Craig Kirkwood, and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive.) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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