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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..5d0fd9b --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #54203 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/54203) diff --git a/old/54203-0.txt b/old/54203-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 405f5f6..0000000 --- a/old/54203-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6281 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Prisoners of Mainz, by Alec Waugh - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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/license - - -Title: The Prisoners of Mainz - -Author: Alec Waugh - -Illustrator: R. T. Roussel - -Release Date: February 20, 2017 [EBook #54203] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PRISONERS OF MAINZ *** - - - - -Produced by Chuck Greif, MWS and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - - - - - -THE PRISONERS OF MAINZ - -[Illustration: THE DOOM OF YOUTH. - -[_Frontispiece._ -] - - - - - THE PRISONERS OF - MAINZ - - BY - ALEC WAUGH - - AUTHOR OF - “THE LOOM OF YOUTH,” “RESENTMENT POEMS,” ETC. - - WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY - CAPTAIN R. T. ROUSSEL - (P.O.W. MAINZ) - - LONDON - CHAPMAN AND HALL, LTD. - 1919 - - PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY - RICHARD CLAY & SONS, LIMITED, - BRUNSWICK ST., STAMFORD ST., S.E. I, - AND BUNGAY, SUFFOLK. - - - - -A BALLADE OF DEDICATION TO MY FELLOW-GEFANGENER - -A. H. CHANDLER - - - _Fast locked within the citadel,_ - _We’ve watched the hours of eight months fare_ - _Slowly towards the evening bell,_ - _And its cracked summons “clear the square.”_ - _We’ve watched the stately barges bear_ - _Seawards their teeming casks of wine,_ - _As we sat in the alcove there,_ - _Sipping the vintage of the Rhine._ - - _Ausgabe queues, we knew them well;_ - _Those thin lines straggling out like hair,_ - _Receding from an open cell,_ - _And finishing, the Lord knows where;_ - _And we have felt barbed wire tear_ - _Our breeches’ loose and draggled twine;_ - _But we’ve known hours less foul than fair,_ - _Sipping the vintage of the Rhine._ - - _We could forget the sauerkraut smell,_ - _Forget our weariness and share_ - _The phantasies that flocked pell mell_ - _About our unreal world; and there_ - _Across the thick, smoke-laden air_ - _Our loom of dreams was woven fine;_ - _We tracked illusion to its lair,_ - _Sipping the vintage of the Rhine._ - - -ENVOI - - _Archie, we neither know nor care - _What waits for you, what fate is mine. - _This has been ours--to be friends there, - _Sipping the vintage of the Rhine._ - _A. W._ - - -_Boulogne, - -December 4th, 1918._ - - - - -CONTENTS - - -CHAPTER I - PAGE - -THE GREAT OFFENSIVE 1 - - -CHAPTER II - -ON THE WAY TO THE RHINE 18 - - -CHAPTER III - -KARLSRUHE AND MILTON HAYES 37 - - -CHAPTER IV - -THE HUNGRY DAYS 46 - - -CHAPTER V - -THE PITT LEAGUE 63 - - -CHAPTER VI - -THE GERMAN ATTITUDE 91 - - -CHAPTER VII - -PARCELS 100 - - -CHAPTER VIII - -OUR GENERAL TREATMENT 116 - - -CHAPTER IX - -THE DAILY ROUND 129 - - -CHAPTER X - -HOW WE DID NOT ESCAPE 152 - - -CHAPTER XI - -THE ALCOVE 172 - - -CHAPTER XII - -HOW WE AMUSED OURSELVES 193 - - -CHAPTER XIII - -ARMISTICE DAYS 222 - - -CHAPTER XIV - -FREEDOM 246 - -INDEX 267 - - - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - - - _To face page_ - -THE DOOM OF YOUTH _Frontispiece_ - -“AT SEVEN O’CLOCK THE GERMANS CAME OVER” 16 - -OUR DAILY ROLL 48 - -THE ‘KANTINE’ AT MAINZ 56 - -THE QUEUE OUTSIDE THE PAYMASTER’S OFFICE 62 - -A PRISON CELL 104 - -A GALLANT ATTEMPT TO ESCAPE 162 - -THE BILLIARD-ROOM AT MAINZ 172 - -OUR PRISON SQUARE 194 - -“FIVE HUNDRED ODD OFFICERS WALKING ROUND THE SQUARE” 196 - -OUR LEADING LADY 214 - -LIEUT. MILTON HAYES AS “SILAS P. HAWKSHAW” 218 - - - - -THE PRISONERS OF MAINZ - - - - -CHAPTER I - -THE GREAT OFFENSIVE - - -§ 1 - -_March 21st, 1918._ - -The small box respirator, like the thirty-nine articles of the Faith, -should be taken on trust; one is quite prepared to believe in its -efficiency. Countless Base instructors have extolled it, countless memos -from Division have confirmed their panegyrics; and with these -credentials one carries it on one’s chest in a perfect faith; but one -has no wish to put its merits to the test. No one if he can help it -wishes to have his face surrounded by elastic and india-rubber, and his -nose clamped viciously by bent iron; and for that reason my chief memory -of March 21st was the prolonged discomfort of a gas-mask. - -For from the moment that the barrage opened at 5 a.m. the air was full -of the insidious smell of gas. Masks were clapped on, and thus hooded -the machine-gunners fumbled desperately in search of stoppages; it was -an uncomfortable morning. - -Being stationed about two miles north of the left flank of the German -attack, it was for us a much more comfortable morning than that spent by -most of those south of Arras. For when the mist began to rise, it -revealed no phantom figures; we did not find ourselves encircled, and -outflanked, with the cheerful alternatives of a perpetual rest where we -stood or of an indefinite sojourn on the wrong side of the line. -Everything presented a very orderly appearance. Far away on the right -was the dull noise of guns, but over the whole of the immediate front -spread out the peaceful prospect of a programme of trench routine. - -“Seems as if Jerry weren’t coming over after all,” said the section -corporal. - -“Looks like it,” I said. - -“Then I suppose as we’d better clean things up a bit, Sir.” - -“It would be as well.” - -And the half-section settled down to the usual work of cleaning -themselves, their guns, and their position. The infantry on the right -were even more resigned to the uneventful. - -“This ’ere offensive was all wind up, Sir,” said the man at the strombos -form, “they thought we was gettin’ a bit slack, I suppose, so they -thought this scare ’ud smarten us up a bit; but I knew it all along, -Sir; I’m too old a soldier to be taken in by that.” - -The runner from Battalion, however, brought quite a different story. - -“Been an attack all along the line, Arras to St. Quentin, but it’s been -broken up absolutely; never even got the front line.” - -The man at the strombos form shifted suspiciously. - -“They not bin trying to come over ’ere. I never seen no Germans,” which -was not surprising considering that from where he stood he could not -see the front line at all. - -“No,” he went on, “there’s bin no offensive, and there won’t be one -neither. It’s all a wind up.” - -At any rate, whether there had been an attempted attack or not, it -seemed quite clear that it had not got very far. With that comforting -certainty, I returned to the position, and having seen that the guns -were clean, descended into the dugout and went to sleep. - -About two hours later a perspiring runner arrived. He was quite out of -breath from dodging whizzbangs, and was in consequence incapable of -logical statement. He said something about “Bullecourt.” The chit he -brought explained. - - “BULLECOURT, ECOUST, NOREIL ARE IN THE - HANDS OF THE ENEMY” - -It took at least five minutes to realise what this meant. To think that -they had got as far as that. It had seemed so delightfully safe. One -had walked along the Ecoust road in daylight, and there was a canteen at -Noreil. And then that glorious dugout in Railway Reserve that we had -covered with green canvas and festooned with semi-nudities from the -_Tatler_, to think of some lordly Prussian straddling across the table, -swigging champagne. It was an unspeakable liberty.... - -And then a little tardily followed the thought that Ecoust was not so -many miles from Monchy, and that if the Germans had got as far as that -on the right, there was very little reason why they should not do the -same to us--an unpleasant consideration. But still everything seemed so -delightfully quiet. Only an occasional whizzbang, or four--five--no one -would have thought there was a war on. Still Ecoust was not so very far -off; our parish had provided funds for a church army hut at St. Leger. -They had been collecting for it hard when I had been on leave. Well, -that must have gone west by now.... - -And at the top of the dugout I could hear the runner gradually -recovering his breath and explaining the strategic situation in spasms. - -“You see, I heard the captin say to the adjutant, ‘Jones,’ he says, ‘the -Jerrys’ got as far as Bullecourt,’ and when I heard that ... well ... I -said to myself ... thank ’eavens I wasn’t there.” - -“And you was there two months ago, Kid.” - -“Where I was two months ago, as you say, and then I heard the captin -say....” - -The remaining reflection was inaudible. - - * * * * * - -The next morning passed very quietly, so quietly that we had almost -forgotten the rumours of the preceding day. The limber corporal had -assured the ration party that there had been a counter-attack with -tanks, and that not only had Bullecourt been retaken, but Hendecourt and -Riencourt as well. There seemed no cause for panic. The rum had come up -as usual, and that was the main thing. After an afternoon of -belt-cleaning the subsection arranged itself as usual into night -reliefs, and then just before midnight came the news that the Division -was evacuating to the “third” line. - -Whenever the military decide on a sudden action, they impart the -information in a delightfully inconsequent way. For instance, on the eve -of the Cambrai show, orders were sent round that in the case of an enemy -withdrawal limbers would proceed to Hendecourt along the road in the map -square U 29 B, and this request was then qualified by the statement, “It -is no good looking for roads; there are none.” - -On this occasion the message was equally vague. It stated that the front -system would be evacuated at 3 a.m., and ordered that all guns, tripods, -belt-boxes, and ammunition would be immediately moved and stacked at the -ration dump pending the arrival of limbers. The chit then added, -“Secrecy is absolutely essential. On no account must the men know -anything of this.” The reasons on which the authorities based their -expectations that the men would move all their impedimenta to a ration -dump, and yet remain in complete ignorance of the operation, are -unfathomable. At any rate their hopes were unrealised. At the first -mention of dismounted guns, Private Hawkins had sniffed the secret. - -“Got to shift, ’ave we, Sir? Then I suppose we’re going to have a war -too, aren’t we, Sir?” - -“I should not be surprised,” I told him, and went below to superintend -the packing of my kit. It was no easy matter. Things accumulate in the -line; I always went up the line with a modestly filled pack, but by the -time I came down, it needed a mailbag to hold the books and magazines -that had gradually gathered round me, and after a fortnight in the same -dugout my kit was in no condition for emergency transportation. - -My batman was examining it with a sorrowful face. - -“You’ll ’ave to dump most of these books, Sir.” - -“Oh, but surely we can get some of them down?” - -“Then you’ll have to dump those boots, Sir, and that blanket. Can’t take -the lot, Sir.” - -It was no use to argue with him. The batman’s orders are far more law -than a mandate from Brigade. The Brigadier is merely content to issue -orders; batmen see that theirs are carried out. There was nothing for it -but to dump the books, and I looked sadly at the considerable collection -that the mails of the last fourteen days had brought. - -“Have they all got to go?” - -“‘Fraid so, Sir.” - -“What, all my pretty chickens, at one fell swoop?” - -Private Warren eyed me stolidly. - -“Well, Sir, I might manage two, Sir, but no more.” - -I ran a pathetic eye over them. There were several I particularly wanted -to save; there were two novels by Hardy, Robert Graves’s new book of -Poems, _Regiment of Women_, a battered copy of _La Terre_, _The Oxford -Book of Verse_, _The Stucco House_. After a moment’s hesitation, the -last two were saved for further odysseys; there was just room in a spare -pocket for _Fairies and Fusiliers_; the rest would have to stay to -welcome the Teuton. - -At last all the equipment of a machine-gun section had been carted away. -I took one turn round the dugouts to see that no incriminating document -remained. The dugout looked hospitably clean; all the delicacies of -handing over had been observed, but as there would be up one to receive -the relieving party, manners demanded some sort of “Salve”; and so, -tearing from a notebook a sheet of paper, I scrawled across it in large -letters, CHEERIOH, and pinned it over the entrance of my deserted home. - - -§ 2 - -_March 28th, 1918._ - -Of course the limbers never turned up. For two months without the least -inconvenience from German artillery they had come up to the ration dump -every night, but on this particular night they felt sure it would arouse -suspicions, and so a guide was sent instead. And in France there are -only two sorts of guides. There is the guide who does not know the way -and owns up to it, and there is the guide who does not know the way and -pretends he does. There are no others. Luckily ours came under the -former category. - -“You see, Sir, I’ve only bin from Headquarters once and that was by day, -and I’m not too sure of the way.... I’ve only been ’ere once and -that....” - -Which was a pretty clear sign that a compass bearing would be hardly -less reliable. We dumped most of our spare kit in the river, and set -off. It is wonderful how disorderly any movement of troops appears by -night. Actually it was a most methodical withdrawal, but in its progress -it looked pitifully like a rout. The road seemed littered with cast-off -equipment, ammunition, packs and bombs; dumps were going up all round. -Innumerable Highlanders had lost their companies; nobody seemed to know -where he was going or to care particularly whether he ever arrived. A -subsection of fifteen men straggled into an echelon formation covering -as many yards. It appeared an absolute certainty that dawn and the -Germans would find us still trailing helplessly along the road. - -At last, however, came the loved jingle of harness, and the sound of -restive mules. We heaved packs and baggages on a limber, and more -cheerfully resumed our odyssey. - -This cheerfulness considerably diminished when the section found that -our new positions were two hundred yards from the road, and that a -hundred boxes of S.A.A. had to be stacked in half an hour. But -eventually peace was restored to Israel, and by the time that the -morning broke, the section was fairly comfortably lodged in some disused -German dugouts. - -There followed four very lazy days. The two subsections had been -amalgamated, and with my section officer Evans, I spent most of the day -working out elaborate barrage charts in case of a break through. Evans -had recently been on a course at Camières where they had given him an -enormous blue sheet which was warranted proof against geography. Evans -regarded it as a sort of charm. - -“You see, with this,” he said, “you can get on to any target you like -within thirty seconds.” - -And it was certainly an ingenious toy, but as far as we were concerned, -it did not accelerate the conclusion of the war. It required a level -table, numerous drawing-pins, carbon papers, faultless draughtsmanship -and much else with which we were unequipped: finally, when occasion -demanded we resorted to the obsolete method of aiming at the required -target. - -Of the actual war little information was gleaned. The limber corporal -brought each evening the account of wondrous sallies and excursions. -Lens was purported to have fallen, and an enveloping attack was in -progress further North. Lille was only a matter of days. And then on the -night of the 27th there arrived the mail and papers of the preceding -seven days. It came in an enormous burst of epistolary shrapnel. -Personally I received thirty letters and five parcels. We sat up reading -them till midnight, and then in a contented frame of mind we turned to -the papers. It was a bit of a shock. We had hardly imagined that there -was a war on any front except our own. We had expected to see headlines -talking of nothing but the Fall of Bullecourt and our masterly -evacuation of Monchy. We had expected to see our exploits extolled by -Philip Gibbs; instead of that they filled a very insignificant corner. -It was all Bapaume, Ham, Peronne. We were merely a false splash of a -wave that already had gone home. It was a blow to our self-respect. -There was also no news of any enveloping manœuvres round Lille. The -Germans appeared to be doing all that. - -Evans looked across at me dolefully. - -“Do you think the men had better know anything about that?” he said. - -“Shouldn’t think so. By the way, when are we being relieved?” - -“The sooner the better. There is going to be a war on soon.” - -And the memory of the thirty letters and five parcels thinned. - -“Oh, well,” I said, “I’m going to bed.” - - * * * * * - -My sleep did not last long. Within an hour Evans was shouting in my ear. - -“Hell of a strafe upstairs. I think they’re coming over.” - -And indeed there was a strafe. Verey lights were going up all along the -front. Three dumps were hit in as many minutes, from the right came the -continual crump of “minnies.” Luckily we were in the shelter between the -barrage on the eighteen-pounders and the barrage on the front lines. -The only shells that came disconcertingly close were those from one of -our own heavies that was dropping short, like a man out of breath. - -At seven o’clock the Germans came over, and by twelve we were being -escorted to Berlin. - -Our actual engagement resembles so closely that of every other -unfortunate during those sorry days that it deserves no detailed -description. The only original incident came at about nine o’clock when -I discovered the perfidy of the section cook. I had sent him down to -fetch some breakfast, and he returned smoking triumphantly a gold-tipped -cigarette that he could have obtained from only one source. Perhaps this -is what those mean who maintain that in the moment of action one sees -the naked truth of the human soul. At any rate it stripped Private -Hawkins pretty effectively. No doubt this kleptomania had been a -practice with him for a long time, and at this critical moment I suppose -he saw no reason why he should conceal it: “much is forgiven to a man -condemned.” He literally flaunted theft. - -[Illustration: “AT SEVEN O’CLOCK THE GERMANS CAME OVER.” - -[_To face page 16._ -] - -“Hawkins,” I said quietly, “you’ll go back to the gun-team to-morrow. -We’ll find another cook.” - -“Very good, Sir.” - -And almost instantly the order was given a divine confirmation in the -form of the cushiest of flesh wounds in Private Hawkins’s right arm. - -After a second’s gasp he bounded down the trench. - -“A blighty, Sir,” he cried, “a blighty. No, Sir, don’t want to be bound -up or anything. They’ll do that at the dressing station. I’m orf.” - -Visions had risen before him of white sheets and whiter nurses. He saw -himself being petted and made much of, the hero of the village; and as -the Germans slowly filtered round the flank, Private Hawkins rushed down -the communication trench, resolved to put at all cost the dressing -station between them and him. He succeeded. Probably it was the one time -he had ever tried to do anything in his life. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -ON THE WAY TO THE RHINE - - -§ 1 - -At the back of the mind there always exists a sort of unconscious -conception of the various contingencies that may lie round the corner. -It is usually unformulated, but it is there none the less, and at the -moment when I was captured I had a very real if confused idea of what -was going to happen to me. - -The idea was naturally confused because the etiquette of surrender is -not included in Field Service Regulations, and as it is not with that -intention that one originally sets out for France, the matter had not -bulked largely in the imagination. But the terrorist had supplied these -deficiencies, and he had made it hard to rid oneself of the supposition -that one had only to cross a few yards of unowned hollows to find -oneself in a world of new values and formulæ. As a dim recollection of -some previous existence I had carried the image of strange brutalities -and assaults, of callous, domineering Prussians, of Brigadiers with -Sadistic temperament. I was fully prepared to be relieved of my watch -and cigarette-case, and to be prodded in the back by my escort’s -bayonet. - -Instead of that, however, he presented me with a cigar and pretended to -understand my French, which is on the whole the most insidious of all -forms of compliment. - -There was also a complete absence of that machine-perfect discipline of -which we had heard so much. Several of the German officers had not -shaved, men stood to the salute with their heels wide apart, and the -arrival of a silver epaulette was not the sign for any Oriental -prostrations. Beyond the fact that the men wore grey uniforms and smoked -ungainly pipes, they strangely resembled an English battalion that was -carrying on a minor local engagement. - -The authorities who interviewed us and confiscated our correspondence -displayed the characteristic magnanimity of the captor; after enlarging -on the individual merits of the Entente soldier, they proceeded to -explain why they themselves were winning the war. - -“It’s staff work that counts,” they said. “We’ve got unity of command; -Hindenburg. You’ve got two generals, Haig and Foch.” - -Indeed, everywhere behind the line there was intense gratification, but -not so much of the victory-lust that must have inflamed them in the -early months of the war, but of the weariness that four years had -brought, and of the thought that the close of so much misery was near. -Actual successes (so it appeared) were only the means to an end--it was -peace that mattered. - -All this was very different from what I had expected. On the way -to Battalion Headquarters I had visioned an inquisitional -cross-examination. I had expected to be questioned by some fierce-jawed -general, who would demand the secrets of the General Staff, which I -should heroically refuse. Then he would call for the thumbscrew and the -rack, for the cat-o’-nine-tails and the red-hot iron. “Will you speak -now?” he would hiss. But I should remain as ever steadfastly loyal. The -entire scenic panorama of the _Private of the Buffs_ had swept before my -eye; only a spasm of optimism had changed the crisis. Just at the moment -when I was being led out to be shot, the general would suddenly relent. -His voice would shake, and a quiver would run down his massive frame. - -“No, no!” he would say, with out-stretched hand. “Spare him! He’s only a -boy, and besides he’s a soldier and, damn it! that’s all that I am -myself.” - -Actuality, however, refused to reflect the Lyceum stage. The man with -the records viewed my presence with complete equanimity. - -“Oh, well,” he said, “it’s no good my asking you any questions. You’d -be sure to answer them wrong, and besides, I don’t think you could tell -me so very much. Let’s see, you’re in the ---- Division, aren’t you? -Well, you’ve got the following battalions with you.” - -And he proceeded to give gratuitous information on the most intricate -points of organisation and establishment, all the hundred and one little -things that had been so laboriously tabulated before the Sandhurst -exams., and had afterwards been so speedily forgotten. He knew the -number of stretcher-bearers in a battalion, the number of G.S. wagons at -brigade, and the quantity of red tabs at division. Any one possessing a -quarter of his knowledge could have had a staff appointment for the -asking. - -“Not bad,” he laughed. - -It was now two o’clock in the afternoon, and since the barrage had -opened at three in the morning, none of us had sat down for a moment. We -began to entertain hopes of lunch. - -“Where are we bound for?” I asked. - -“Douai.” - -“But we don’t march there to-day, do we?” - -“If you can,” he said cheerfully. “But it’s about twenty kilos, and by -the time you’ve got to Vitry you probably won’t be sorry to have a -rest.” - -The prospect of a twenty-kilometre march along the unspeakable French -roads was anything but encouraging. It was drizzling slightly, and there -seemed no likelihood of getting any food. In a sad silence we waited, -while the scattered groups of prisoners were collected into a party -sufficiently large to be moved off together. - -Proceedings were at this point considerably delayed by a company -sergeant-major of the Blankshires who had spent his last moments of -liberty near the rum jar; and under its influence he could not rid -himself of the idea that he was still in charge of a parade. Nothing -would induce him to fall in in the ranks. He persisted in standing on a -bank, from which he directed operations in bucolic spasms, meanwhile -treating the Germans with the benevolent patronage that he had been wont -to display before the newly-joined subaltern. It was the one flash of -humour that that grey afternoon provided. - -At last enough stragglers had dribbled in, six officers and about a -hundred and twenty men, and the march back began. - -Nothing could exceed the depression of that evening. The rain began to -fall heavily, and through its dim sheets peered the mournful eyes of -ruined villages. We marched in silence; Vis-en-Artois, Dury, Torquennes, -one by one they were passed, the landmarks we had once picked out from -the Monchy heights. A stage of exhaustion had been reached when movement -became mechanical. For twelve hours we had had no food, and no rest for -at least sixteen, and to this physical weariness was added the -depression that the bleak French landscape never fails to evoke--the -grey stretches of rolling ground unrelieved by colour; the -dead-straight roads lined by tree-stumps, the broken homesteads; and to -all this was again added the cumulative helplessness that the events of -the day had roused; the knowledge of the ignominy of one’s position, and -the uncertainty of what was to come. - -Gradually the succession of broken houses yielded to whole but deserted -villages; and these woke even more the sense of loneliness, of -nostalgia. Formerly, on the way back from the line, there was nothing so -cheering as to see through the night the first signs of civilisation. -Then they were to the imagination as kindly hands welcoming it back to -the joys from which it had been exiled. But now the shadowy arms of a -distant windmill only served to increase the feeling of banishment and -separation. Behind us we could hear the dull roll of guns, we could see -the flares of the Verey lights curving against the sky; and these seemed -nearer happiness than the untouched barns. - -At last towards ten o’clock we reached Vitry and were herded into an -open cage. The whole surface of it was a liquid slime, round which men -were moving, trying to keep warm. Sleep there was impossible. But at any -rate there was something to eat, a cup of coffee, a quarter of a loaf of -bread. The German officer received us as a hotel-keeper receives guests -for whom he has no beds. - -“I am very sorry, gentlemen,” he said; “but you’re only here for one -night. But I think I might be able to find you a little room in the hut -for the wounded.” - -And so tired were we that there was pleasure in the mere prospect of a -roof; and on a floor covered with lousy straw we passed the night in -snatches of sleep, disturbed every moment by the tossing of cramped -limbs, and by the presence of muddy boots driven against one’s face, and -brawny Highlanders sprawling across one’s chest. But in that state of -exhaustion these troubles were remote--for a while at any rate we could -be still; and in the waking moments there lay no venom even in the -recurring thought that on the next morning we should have to begin our -march afresh. - - -§ 2 - -At Douai we spent four days of incorrigible prolixity in a small house -behind the bank. There was absolutely nothing to do. We had no books: we -could not write. There was no chess-board, and the only pack of cards -was two aces short. All we could do was to sleep spasmodically, and try -not to remember that we were hungry. - -It was an impossible task. There was nothing else to think about. There -was no chance of forgetting how little we had had for breakfast. Slowly -we dragged from meal to meal. - -For breakfast we got a cup of coffee made from chestnuts, and an eighth -of a loaf of bread. For lunch there was a bowl of vegetable soup. For -supper another cup of coffee, and another eighth of a loaf. Each -morning there was an infinitesimal issue of jam. That comprised our -entire ration. - -We also had nothing to smoke. - -There was nothing for it but to lie on our beds, with every road of -thought leading to the same gate. One remembered the most minute details -of dinners enjoyed on leave. A steaming array of visionary dishes passed -continually before the eyes. One thought of the tins of unwanted bully -stacked at the foot of dugouts. And for myself there was the bitter -recollection of three untouched parcels that I had received on the eve -of capture. - -“To think of it,” I said, “a whole haggis, two cakes, four tins of -salmon!” - -“Appalling!” echoed the others. - -“And to think that the Jerrys have got it!” - -“Don’t talk about it, man; let’s forget.” - -But there was no escape. - - “As a perfume doth remain - In the folds where it hath lain,” - -so lingered the thoughts of those untouched delicacies. - -The only interesting features of our day were the talks we had with one -of the German interpreters. It was the first time that any of us had a -chance of discovering their attitude towards the Entente, and it was -interesting to see how closely their propaganda had followed our own -lines. - -To our accounts of atrocities in Belgium, the Germans had retorted with -stories about the Russian invasion of East Prussia. By them the -employment of native troops against white men was represented as an -offence against humanity as gross as the use of gas. Nothing, moreover, -would shake their belief that France and Russia were the aggressors. To -the interpreter it was a war of self-defence. There is no doubt that his -faith in this was absolutely sincere. - -But what really touched him most closely was the propaganda of our -Press. - -“Surely you cannot believe,” he said, “that we are an entire nation of -barbarians? Whatever our quarrels, you surely ought to allow that we -are human beings. If it had not been for your newspaper chiefs,” he -added, “the war would have been over in 1916.” - -It was the one point on which he was really bitter. - -One morning we were standing in the courtyard, and a German orderly was -chopping up wood for our fires. It was a bit cold, and to keep himself -warm one of the officers went over to help him. - -The interpreter turned to the rest of us and said: “Now then, if your -_John Bull_ could get hold of a photograph of that, he’d print huge -headlines, ‘Ill-treatment of British Officers. Made to chop up wood for -German soldiers.’” - -It was at Douai that we discovered for the first time the German habit -of putting dictaphones in prisoners’ rooms. Ours was attached to the -electric light appliances and masqueraded as a switch wire. But if any -one listened to our conversation, they can have heard very little to -interest them, save perhaps sundry strings of unsavoury epithets -preceding the word “Boche.” - -From Douai we moved to Marchiennes; half of the way by tram. Every time -we stopped, French women crowded round us bringing cigarettes and -tobacco. - -“It is not allowed,” said the German sergeant-major, “but I shall be -blind.” - -Material comforts were even fewer at our new resting-place. There were -eight of us and we were put in a large, draughty barn, with bed-boards -covered with bracken that was unspeakably lousy. There were no rugs or -blankets of any description, and the nights were miserably cold. The -eight days we spent there were the worst of our whole captivity. The -food, consisting mainly of a stew of bad fish and sauerkraut, was at -times uneatable. Indeed, things would have gone very badly with us, had -we not managed to make friends with one of our guard. He was very small -and very grubby, and introduced himself to us one morning when the -commandant was not about. - -“Me Alsacian,” he said. “English, French, kamarades. Prussians, ugh! -nix.” - -From this basis of common sympathies negotiations proceeded as smoothly -as linguistic difficulties permitted. He told us that, if we wanted -food, the only way was to apply to the Maire. He himself would carry the -letter. - -Two hours later he returned with a loaf of bread and a packet of lard. -It seemed a banquet, and for the rest of our stay he brought us, if not -a living, at any rate an existing ration, and on the day that we moved -he even came on to the station carrying a sack of provisions. - -Our train journey provided an admirable example of official negligences. -For officialdom is the same all the world over. In England it was like a -game of “Old Maid”; and so it was here. To the commandant at Marchiennes -eight prisoners were only so many cards to be got rid of as quickly as -possible. As soon as they had been put in a train, and the requisite -number of buff sheets dispatched, his job was at an end. What happened -in the course of transmission mattered not at all. - -And so the eight of us, with two German sentries, were put in a train at -Marchiennes at ten o’clock on a Monday morning. We had rations for one -day, and we reached Karlsruhe, our destination, at 7 p.m. on the -Thursday. In this respect our experience is that of every other prisoner -that I have met; only we, by being a small party, fared better than -most. - -First of all, in regard to our sentries. As there were so few of us, we -soon managed to get on friendly terms with them. They were a delightful -couple. One of them was medically unfit, and had never been in the -trenches. He was mortally afraid of his own rifle, and at the first -opportunity unloaded it. The responsibility of a live round in the -breech was too great. - -The other was old and kindly, with the Iron Cross; and like all men who -have seen war, loathed it thoroughly. - -“Englander and German,” he said, “trenches, ah, blutig; capout; here -alles kameraden; krieg, nix mehr.” - -And at every station he tried to get food out of the authorities. He was -not very successful. Only once, at Louvain, did he manage to raise some -bully beef and bread, and if we had had to rely on official largess, we -should have been very thin by the time we reached Karlsruhe. But -luckily, through being a small party, we were able to benefit from the -generosity of the Belgian civilians at a small village called -Bout-Merveille, who showered on us bread and eggs and cigarettes. - -But for all that the journey was tedious beyond words. We were crowded -in a third-class carriage, with unpadded seats. We had nothing to read. -Wherever the train stopped at a siding it remained there for any period -from four to seven hours; it did all its movement by night, and for at -least ten hours of daylight presented us with a stationary landscape. It -seemed as though it would never end. Nor did our arrival in Germany -afford any diversion. Another traditional conception “went west.” We had -all vaguely expected to receive some insult or brutality at the hands of -the civilian population. But no old men spat on us, no hectic women -attacked us with their hair-pins. Instead of that they regarded us with -a friendly curiosity. - -“Cheer up!” one girl said to us. “The war’ll soon be over. You will be -back in four months.” - -It was the same here as behind the line. Peace--nothing else mattered. -The Germans had suffered so much personally that they had ceased to -nourish the collective loyalties of world power and empire. They no -longer wanted to conquer the world, they wanted to be at peace; and to -this end their victories in the field seemed the shortest way. The short -snatches of conversation that we had with civilians on Heidelberg -Station were all in this key. Peace would come in four months. Beyond -that they had no ambitions. They no longer shared the megalomania of -their rulers. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -KARLSRUHE AND MILTON HAYES - - -After the discomforts of the trenches and the tedium of a fortnight’s -travelling, Karlsruhe provided a delightful haven. Here all the material -needs were satisfied; there was a Red Cross issue of tin foods three -times a week: the beds were moderately comfortable, and one’s clothes -could be disinfected: and there was a library. After a fortnight’s exile -from books there is no joy comparable to the sight of a printed page. - -And in the evenings we were allowed out till eleven o’clock. There were -big arc lamps under the trees, and in this romantic atmosphere the -greater part of the camp lay out reading in deck chairs. It was easy -then to cast a false glamour over imprisonment; to see in it a -succession of harmonious days; a quiet backwater in which the mind was -free to work. It was easy to bathe the emotions in the ordered periods -of George Moore’s prose, and reflect that there “lay no troublous thing -before.” It was the reaction natural after the turgid experiences of the -last eight months, and it certainly made that one week at Karlsruhe -lyrical with content. - -Karlsruhe was a distributing station through which all officer prisoners -passed on their way to permanent camps. But there was always retained a -small committee of officers to superintend the activities of this fluid -community. There were officers to look after the issue of relief -parcels, to run the library, to control general discipline. In charge of -the Red Cross Committee was Tarrant. - -Fourteen months of captivity had not made much impression either on his -cheerfulness or on his health. In fact he looked and felt so fit that it -caused him some alarm. - -“I’m too well,” he said, “I’m thinking of trying a fast.” - -“He’s been saying that every day for the last month,” remarked Stone, -his room companion. - -“Oh, no, old man, really,” protested Tarrant, “I’ve only been waiting -for it to get a bit warmer.” - -After the wearisome discussions about the incidental aspects of the war, -it was an enormous delight to meet two people to whom the events of the -last year had been a matter chiefly of conjecture and report. - -“You will get awfully sick of all this, of course, after fourteen -months,” said Tarrant, “but it’s really a capital place to get one’s -ideas settled.” - -One is always extraordinarily polite to a person one meets for the first -time. After three days the need for politeness goes. But on that first -occasion the opinions of the other are treated with a laborious respect. -Conversation takes a turn of, “Of course that’s quite true, but I must -say that personally ...” and that was the way that Tarrant listened to -my heresies on the first evening. Long before I had vanished from -Karlsruhe, however, the respectful tone had degenerated into, “Won’t do, -old man, won’t do,” and there have been times since, when I have emerged -sadly tattered from some war of dialectic, that I have longed wistfully -for those early days. - -The next afternoon Tarrant was in a chastened mood. - -“I’ve begun my fast,” he explained. “It was not so bad after breakfast. -But by lunch time it got pretty awful, and by now....” - -“It gets better after the third day, I’m told,” Stone hazarded. - -“You know,” Tarrant went on, “before I began this fast, I made a whole -pile of arguments in favour of it; but really at this moment, I can’t -remember a single one.” - -“Shall I suggest a few?” said Stone. - -“No, thanks.” - -However, the resolution held good, and for the space of five complete -days he did not eat a morsel of food. The moment it was over he -declared it to be a capital scheme, and recommended it to all his -friends. - - * * * * * - -It was at Karlsruhe that I met Milton Hayes. Off the stage he is in -appearance very much like the remainder of humanity, but no one who has -met him once could ever forget him. He is the one man who has accepted -Popular Taste as a constant thing, has defined that thing, and found a -theory on which to work. - -The majority of popular artists always adopt an attitude of, “Well, -there must be something about my stuff, I don’t know what it is, a -little trick, something that hits the popular fancy. I can’t explain -it.” - -But Milton Hayes has his theory cut and dried. He has formed a vessel in -which all his work can take shape. He has written two monologues, _The -Green Eye of the Little Yellow God_, and _The Whitest Man I Know_, that -have sold more than any other similar compositions, and he wrote them -both, as it were, to scale. - -“The great thing,” he said, “is to appeal to the imagination. Don’t -describe: suggest. All the best effects are got by placing the vital -incident off the stage. Let your public imagine, don’t tell them -anything; just strike chords. It’s no good describing a house; the -person will always fix the scene in some spot that he himself knows. In -as few words as possible you’ve got to recall that spot to him. He’ll do -the rest.” - -About the “Green Eye” he made no pretence. He wove round it no air of -mystery and cracker tinsel. - -“It took me five hours to write,” he said, “but I worked it all out -first. I don’t say it’s real poetry; but it does what I set out to do. -It appeals to the imagination. It starts off with colours, green and -yellow, that at once introduce an atmosphere. Then India: well, every -one’s got his idea of India; it’s a symbol. It conveys something very -definite to the average mind. Then play on the susceptibilities. ‘His -name was mad Karou’: you’ve got the whole man. The public will fill in -the picture for you. And then the mystery parts; just leave enough -unsaid to make paterfamilias pat himself on the back. ‘I’ve spotted it, -he can’t do me. I’m up to that dodge; I know where he went’; and when -you are at the end you come back to the point you started from. It -carries people back. You’ve got a compact whole: and you touch the sense -of pathos, ‘A broken-hearted woman tends the grave of mad Karou.’ -They’ll weave a whole story round that woman’s life. Every man’s a -novelist at heart. We all tell ourselves stories. And that’s what you’ve -got to play on.” - -And that is where, I think, Milton Hayes’s greatness really lies. He -thoroughly understands his audience; he can change places with each -individual that is listening to him. He never has to try a thing on some -one first to see whether it will go. He knows at once what will get over -and what will not. One of the most amusing sketches he has done was a -burlesque of a war-lecture made by a famous London journalist. He -mimicked his subject completely, but where the real “punch” lay was in -his analysis of the emotions of each individual and couple leaving the -hall. He knew exactly what each one would make of it. - -One of his chief maxims, too, is that an actor must remember that he is -performing not to individuals but to couples. - -“People don’t go to shows by themselves,” he said, “and you must -remember that a thing that may sound silly to a man when he’s by himself -sounds very different when he’s with his best girl. You’ve got to get -that moment when a boy wants to squeeze the hand of the girl he’s -sitting next, and the old married couple simper a bit, and think that -after all they’ve not had such a bad time together. - -“And I dare say that is why a play like _Romance_ seems so bad to the -critic. He’s gone there by himself, when he should have gone there with -a girl. _Romance_ has got all the sure hits; it’s steeped in amber -light. All the effects, the hidden singer, the one passion, the woman -that never marries. But you must not go to a show like that by -yourself.” - -What others have done unconsciously, Milton Hayes has done consciously. -He knows exactly what he is doing, and in consequence relies less on -chance than others of his profession, and if, as he promises, he takes -to writing musical comedies after the war, there should be very little -doubt of his success. - - * * * * * - -The week at Karlsruhe passed very quickly, and very pleasantly, and I -was thoroughly sorry to have to leave, especially as Tarrant and Stone -were on the permanent Red Cross staff. The prospect of a new camp at -Mainz offered hardly any attractions. There would be nothing there; no -library, no sports outfits; we should have all the trouble of starting -the machinery of a “lager.” Not one of us looked forward to it. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -THE HUNGRY DAYS - - -§ 1 - -The entrance of the Citadel Mainz was calculated to inspire the most -profound gloom. An enormous gate swung open, revealing a black and -cavernous passage. As soon as all were herded in, the gate shut behind -us, and we were immersed in darkness. Then another gate at the end of -the passage creaked back on unoiled hinges, and ushered us into our new -home. That cobwebbed passage was like the neutral space between two -worlds. It laid emphasis on captivity. - -Under the lens of the mendacious camera the entourage of the citadel -presents a very pleasant aspect. The square looks bright and large, the -rooms light and airy; from the top windows there is a delightful view -of the Mainz steeples and of the Rhineland hills, and a fleeting -glimpse can be caught of Heine’s bridge. But to the jaundiced eye of the -_Gefangener_ all this comeliness was illusion. In actual circumference -the square measured about 400 yards, and it was too full of the ghosts -of squad drill. On most of the walls were painted the head and shoulders -of dummy targets, that a regiment of snipers had once used for rifle -practice. The spirit of militarism was strong; and however delightful -the Rhine may look when photographed from the top-story window of a tall -block, it is less arcadian when viewed through a screen of wire netting. -The whole place was littered with sentries, and barbed wire. For not one -moment could one imagine one was free. At times even a sort of -claustrophobia would envelop one. The desire to move was imperative, and -the tall avenue of chestnuts seemed to rise furiously, as though they -were sentinels that would some day draw all things to themselves. - -Some of the rooms were, it is true, light and sunny. But the rooms in -Block III were miserably dark. The windows were on a level with the -ground on account of a moat that ran round the building, and in front a -line of chestnuts shut out the sunlight. The rooms were long and narrow, -with bars across the windows. At the end it was very often too dark to -read; the window sill was the only place that provided enough light for -a morning shave. From the outside and from the inside the block was like -a dungeon, and the official photographs omitted to immortalise it. - -The routine of the camp was very simple. At eight o’clock in the morning -breakfast, consisting of coffee, was brought to the rooms. At half-past -nine there was a roll-call. At twelve midday there was lunch in the -mess-rooms; at three in the afternoon coffee was brought round to the -rooms; at six there was supper in the mess-rooms. At nine the doors of -the block were closed; at nine-thirty there was an evening roll-call; at -eleven lights went out. - -[Illustration: OUR DAILY ROLL. - -[_To face page 48._ -] - -But for two fortunate contingencies those early days would have been -almost unendurable. One of them was the arrival from Karlsruhe of -Tarrant and Stone. During our first week every evening brought a draft -of new arrivals; and among one of the later of these appeared Tarrant -and Stone, staggering beneath the accumulated kit of fourteen months’ -imprisonment. The change contented them little. After the shelter and -privacy of a room for two, it was no joke to be dumped into the -publicity of a room of ten. The creature comforts were missing. -Naturally we showered sympathy. But as a practical philosophy altruism -is a sadly broken reed. The pleasure at the prospect of their company -quite outweighed the inconvenience that its presence had caused to them; -and, besides that, they brought with them no small part of a library. -The bookless days were over now. No more should I have to spend a whole -morning over the only volume in the room--The Book of Common Prayer. No -more should I have to go to the most extreme lengths of subservience to -borrow _Freckles_ or _The Rosary_. - -The other piece of luck we had was in the weather. During the early days -of May the square was bathed in a metallic heat; and as soon as -roll-call was over a deck chair was pushed into the shade of a tree, -where one could doze and read throughout the whole morning, and forget -that one was hungry. - -For those were hungry days. Indeed it is hard not to make the first two -months a mere chronicle of sauerkraut. I honestly believe that the -Germans gave us as much food as they could, considering we were “useless -mouths”: but it was precious little. After all it is one thing to be -reduced to short rations by slow gradations, but it is a very different -thing to be taken from the flesh-pots of France where one eats a great -deal too much, to a vegetable diet that was not nearly sufficient. There -was only one proper meal a day: lunch. We then got two plates of soup, -three or four potatoes, and a spoonful or two of beetroot or cabbage. -The effect lasted for three hours. Supper rarely provided potatoes; -usually two plates of thin soup, and sauerkraut or barley porridge. In -addition there was a fortnightly issue of sugar, a weekly issue of jam, -and a bi-weekly issue of bread. On this last issue the _Gefangener’s_ -fate depended. Life simplified itself into an attempt to spread out a -small loaf of bread over four days. It did not often succeed. On the -first day one carefully marked out on the crust the limit at which each -day’s plunderings must stop. The loaf was divided, first of all, into -four equal parts, then each quarter was again marked out in divisions; -so much for breakfast, so much for tea, so much for supper. It did not -work. Each day removed its neighbour’s landmark. By the third day only a -little edge of crust remained. It was demolished by tea-time, and -nothing quite equalled the depression of the evening of that third day. -The worst time was at eight o’clock. The effect of a slender supper had -by then worn off, and there was the comforting reflection that for -sixteen hours there was not the least likelihood of being able to lay -hand on any food; and the dizziness of a breakfastless morning is an -experience no one would wish to indulge in twice. - -They were strange days, and strange things happened. Money ceased to -have any value unless it could be turned into edible substance. Those -with big appetites carried on a sort of secret service to obtain bread; -fabulous sums were offered for a quarter of a loaf of bread that -contained less flour than potatoes; and, at a time when a mark was worth -a shilling, there were those who were prepared to pay seventy-five marks -for a loaf; and twenty marks for half a loaf was the lowest rate of -exchange. - -One knew then the emotions of the man with threepence in his pocket; who -is feeling ravenously hungry and knows that, if he spends that -threepence on dinner, he will have nothing left for the next day. It is -an alternative that in terms of brown bread has presented itself to -every prisoner of war. - -The psychology of semi-starvation would make an interesting study; and -it would bring out very clearly the irrefutable truth that the only way -to get any peace for the mind is by throwing sops to the physical -appetites; that passions must be allayed, not suppressed; and that the -moment anything is suppressed it becomes an obsession. For there is -poison in every unacted desire, and the only way to deal with the -appetites is to be neither their slave nor tyrant. Asceticism renders a -clear view of life impossible. - -And during those days, if one sufficiently objectified one’s emotions, -there would be always found the insidious germ working its way into the -most unlikely places. Even in books there was no escape from it; it -deliberately perverted the author’s meaning. And one occasion comes back -very vividly. I was reading _La Débâcle_ and had reached the scene where -Louis Napoleon is sitting alone in his room, and his servants lay -before him dish after dish which he leaves untouched. And because of -this perpetual hungriness the whole effect of the incident was spoilt. I -could not get into the mood necessary to appreciate the effect Zola had -aimed at. All I could think was, “Here is this appalling ass Louis -Napoleon, surrounded with meats and fish, entrées and omelettes, and the -fool does not eat them. If only they had given me a chance!” - -It was interesting, too, to notice its effect on a man like Milton -Hayes. Naturally it hit him in that most vulnerable point, his theory of -Popular Taste. - -One morning I found him sitting on a seat, dipping into three books in -turn, _Lorna Doone_, _Pickwick Papers_, and _The Knave of Diamonds_. - -“A strange selection,” I said. - -“No,” he said; “they are all the same, really. They’ve all done the same -thing; they’ve sold; they’ve got the same bedrock principle somewhere, -and I think I’ve found it.” - -“Well, what is it?” - -“Gratification of appetite. All these accounts of big meals and luxury. -That’s what gets over. People don’t want psychology. But they’ll smack -their lips over the dresses and feasts in _The Knave of Diamonds_; and -then look at the venison pasties in _Lorna Doone_, and the heavy dinners -in _Pickwick_. That’s what people want. They have not got these things; -but they want to be told they exist somewhere, and that they are there -to be found. If ever you want to write a book that will really sell, -remember that: gratification of appetite: make their mouths water.” - - -§ 2 - -There was, of course, in the form of the _Kantine_ an official method of -supplementing the ordinary issue. And across that counter strange things -passed. - -Every day provided a fresh experiment. A rumour would fly round the camp -that there was a new sort of tinned paste to be had, “I saw a fellow -coming out with a biggish-looking tin,” some one would say. “I don’t -know what was in it. But it was too big for boot polish.” - -There would follow a general rush, and a queue thirty deep would prolong -itself outside the door. The mixture would turn out to be a green paste -purported to be made from snails and liver. For a day or two the -unfortunates who had bought it spread it over their bread, and tried to -make themselves believe they liked it. The only purpose it really served -was to make the bread look thicker than it was. - -Then another tin would appear; there would be another rumour, another -rush to the door, another disillusionment. There was a crab paste, a -vegetable paste, a nondescript brown paste; all in turn went their way, -and yielded to the soft intrigue of Dried Veg. - -Dried Veg presented itself very innocuously in a paper bag covered with -directions in German. It looked dry and unappetising. None of us knew -how it should be treated, - -[Illustration: THE “KANTINE” AT MAINZ. - -[_To face page 56._ -] - -but the consensus of opinion decided that half an hour’s boiling was all -that was needed; and so adhering to the popular idea, we emptied the -packet into a saucepan full of water, boiled it for half an hour, and -ate it. It was really not so bad. - -Within half an hour, however, we knew that something was wrong. All of -us began to move uncomfortably. Pain spread itself across our stomachs: -and then too late appeared one who could translate the instructions on -the wrapper. The contents should have been left to stand in water for at -least twenty-four hours, by which time it would have absorbed all the -moisture demanded by its composition. We had given it only half an -hour’s boiling. It took its revenge by swelling silently within us. - -It was a terrible night. - - * * * * * - -From these expenditures it will follow that life at Mainz was not quite -so cheap as might be imagined. And we were unfortunate in being captured -at a time when the value of a mark was very high. For, thanks to the -business instincts of our German bankers, a cheque for three pounds was -worth only sixty marks. - -Myself I do not pretend to understand bimetallism, rate of exchange, or -any of the other commercial problems that regulate the value of money. -But the equivalent of the sixty marks paid monthly by Messrs. Cox to the -German Government appeared in our pass-books at that time as £2 10_s._ -6_d._; and as at our end we had to pay £3 for the same number of marks, -one is driven to assume that the intermediary German firm was making a -profit of about sixteen per cent. on every cheque drawn; a basis on -which we would all like to run a bank. - -The result both of the rushes to the _Kantine_ and the succeeding rushes -to the Paymaster’s office was the distinguishing feature of our daily -routine--Queues. For the first impression of a stranger entering the -citadel would have been of a sequence of trailing lines receding from -open doors. Every department had its own particular queue. There was -the queue outside the library, an insignificant affair owing to the -thinly lined shelves; the queue outside the tin store for those who had -parcels, and the two main streams of humanity, the queue from the -_Kantine_, and the queue from the Paymaster’s office. These two last -were in a continual state of flux, a ceaseless ebb and flow; the moment -that they seemed likely to be engulfed within the welcoming portals -there would be another meeting of the ways, more applicants would -arrive, and the human rivers would overflow their banks. To any one who -enjoyed this pastime, life was prodigal of entertainment. He could flit -from one dissipation to another. But to the majority it was a tedious -business, and the art of “queuing” began. - -For an art it certainly was. As the master of finance is always watching -the rise and fall of the markets, so that he shall know the exact moment -at which to buy or to sell; so the master queuist would bide, waiting -for that moment when the stream would be at its lowest ebb, and when he -might safely attach himself to its interests. The cowardly might enrol -themselves stolidly at an early hour, and shifting forward slowly, -almost imperceptibly, they would eventually reach the doors. For them -there was in queuing neither colour nor excitement. It was a dead level. - -But for the artist in queues it was altogether different. He hazarded -much. He had to work out whether or not it would really pay him to get -to the door of the _Kantine_ an hour before it was due to open. If he -waited till later on in the day, he might manage to take advantage of -some quiet lull, and gain his ends after a paltry thirty minutes’ wait. -But, if he did, there was always the chance that when he did arrive the -article he had desired would be no longer there. The whole stock of -liver paste might have been exhausted. An appalling contingency. All -these considerations had to be weighed. - -And with regard to the Paymaster’s office there were attached notable -risks. At noon every day the gates were closed, and consequently at -about half-past eleven the applicants ceased to arrive. Nobody cares to -wait thirty minutes and then have the doors shut upon him; and it was -here that the genius of the queuist was most in evidence. - -At half-past eleven he would look at the queue: there were fifteen -people waiting: would those fifteen people be able to draw their cheques -in time? and in cases like this a mere average of time was valueless. In -queuing, as everywhere else, all standards were relative. Because on one -day twenty people had drawn their money in as many minutes, it did not -follow that on another fifteen would draw theirs in an hour. -Nationalities had to be taken into consideration. Those twenty men were -probably Irishmen. But if there were ten kilts outside the gate, even -when the hands of the clock stood only at a quarter-past eleven, the -great queuist would turn away. He knew that to each of those ten -Scotsmen the Paymaster would have to explain the theory of exchange in -indifferent English, which would not be understood, and that the -Paymaster would then have to try and gather the drift of a Scotsman’s -logic in a language he had not heard before, and that for each -individual applicant an interpreter would have to be summoned. - -Queuing, if refined to an art, required a great deal more than the -merely neutral quality of patience. - -[Illustration: THE QUEUE OUTSIDE THE PAYMASTER’S OFFICE. - -[_To face page 62._ -] - - - - -CHAPTER V - -THE PITT LEAGUE - - -§ 1 - -At the beginning of May we had all resigned ourselves to a stay of at -least two years in Germany. After that we should be probably exchanged, -or interned in a neutral country. Perhaps the war might be over. At any -rate soldiering was more or less done with; and the eye began to turn -once again towards civilian occupations. In consequence the Future -Career Society was born. - -It opened very modestly, under the auspices of a field officer and two -subalterns. Its programme was to find out what each person wanted to -learn, and to provide classes as far as was possible in the required -subjects. It was hoped to bring together members of the same profession -and form circles for Schoolmasters, Bankers, and Farmers. - -This scheme presented countless opportunities for the Bureaucrat. There -is in every community a certain number of people who are never so happy -as when they are confronted with a host of particulars that demand -tabulation. They glory in the sight of a ledger, ruled off into -meticulously exact columns. They love to write at the top of each -column: size of boots, colour of hair, number of distinguishing marks. - -To such a one was entrusted the clerkship of the Future Career Society. -It was announced that at such and such an hour he would receive -applicants. Wishing to learn French, I attached myself to a queue, and -after a wait of twenty minutes duly presented myself at the desk. - -I was received with the stern official gaze that seems to say, “Now -then, young fellow, I’m a hard-worked man and can’t afford to waste time -on you. Let’s get to business at once.” - -“Name?”--Waugh. - -“Initials?”--A. R. - -“Married?”--No. - -“Single?”--Yes. - -“Children?”--None. - -“Age?”--Nearly twenty. - -The questions followed each other with the rapidity of machine-gun -bullets. These preliminaries over, he looked up at me with the -benevolent Fairy Godfather expression of, “Now, young fellow, I’m doing -my best, I want to help you, but you must meet me half-way.” - -“Now,” he said kindly, “what work did you do before the war?” - -“None at all,” I answered truthfully; “I was at school.” - -“Then you don’t know what you are going to do when you get back?” - -“Oh, something to do with books,” I hazarded. - -“Ah, yes, Book-keeping. Then I suppose that what you want is a really -sound commercial education?” - -And he was about to jot down “Commerce” when I pointed out that what I -really wanted to do was not to keep books, but to write them. - -“Journalism? Then why couldn’t you say so at once,” and he returned to -the official “Busyman” attitude. - -Finally we reached the stage to which this examination had led. - -“Now, then, what classes do you think of taking up?” - -“French.” - -He looked at me, doubtfully avuncular. - -“You know, I don’t know whether French will be much use to you. Is that -all you are taking up? Because, of course, French is very amusing, but -from a commercial point of view really I should advise shorthand. No? -well, then, I must just put you down for French. Some notices will come -round about the classes.” - -And he began his inquisition of my successor. Really, considering that -to be entered in a French class was the whole object of my visit, the -interview was sufficiently prolix, but the fellow enjoyed doing it. That -was the great thing. - - * * * * * - -Like all innovations, the F.C.S. (as it appeared on official -abbreviations) met with great support, numerous classes were formed, so -numerous, in fact, were they that there was hardly enough room for them. -At all periods of the day students could be observed hurrying across the -court, a stool under one arm, and a pile of books under the other. The -whole day was mapped out into periods; there was no vacant spot but it -had to serve as a classroom; and the attendance was admirable. Over a -hundred officers attended the first lecture of the shorthand expert. The -elementary French class was so large that it had to be divided up into -three. - -Great trade flourished then in the _Kantine_. Otto’s Grammars were at a -premium. They were hoarded deliberately. One enterprising linguist went -so far as to amass within the space of a week, grammars of Spanish, -French, German, Italian, Arabic and Hindustani, together with their -keys. - -It did not last long: within a week the numbers were diminished by a -half; they then sank to a quarter, then an eighth. Within a month no -class numbered more than half a dozen, which was just as well, for -really people do not want to be taught things. Educational experts who -spend years working out theories do not make a sufficient point of this. -It is not enough to form a system, and expect the world to fit into it. -Only a very few desire knowledge, and those few should be catered for. -They will profit by instruction. But those who are taught things against -their will, speedily forget whatever they have learnt. There are, it is -true, those men who can inspire a love of work, who can produce results -from any material, but they are not schoolmasters. There is rarely more -than one in each school. For the profession presents insufficient -attractions to the really brilliant man, with the result that -schoolmasters are drawn from the ranks of mediocrity; and as long as -this state of things continues, all that the average schoolmaster can -hope to do is to keep the lazy in order, and impart his knowledge to -those who want to learn. For the masses education can only mean -information, and information by itself has little value. - -And so within a month the educational life of the camp had assumed -modest limits; but, as those who remained were genuinely keen, the -classes became infinitely more efficacious. Conversational French, for -instance, was possible as it would never have been in a gathering of -thirty. For the enthusiasts the decreased numbers were in every way -advantageous, but it gave no pleasure to Colonel Westcott. - -Colonel Westcott was one of those delightful persons whom captivity had -turned into a burlesque. He was as extravagant as a character out of -Dickens, and it was hard to believe in his reality. He was so exactly -the type of army officer that is caricatured on the music-hall stage. He -had all the foibles and loyalties of his caste. He believed fearlessly -in discipline, in the Anglo-Saxon race, in an Utopia made not with hands -but with muskets. - -In the time when his enthusiasms had been kept in control by the -business of war, he had been an excellent soldier; but once captured, he -had no outlet for his temperament. Looking down on the court from the -window of his room, he was horrified at the thought of so many -subalterns passing out of his hands, out of the hands of discipline back -into the individual energies of civilian life. And Colonel Westcott -hated individualism: he liked to see humanity moving forward in one -compact body, with himself at its head. He loathed, and was frightened -by, the small bodies that went their own way and in their own time. -During the four years of war nothing had given him more pleasure than to -watch the slow conscription of England. In it he saw unity and safety. -He was with the majority and was therefore safe. - -But now all those good things were ending. He saw the splitting up of -all this common impulse into countless cliques, with interests not his -own; and he felt that he must make one effort before the close. For -Colonel Westcott was a brave man. He would sell everything for the -comfort and assuagement of his soul. And so he founded the Pitt League. - -As an essay in the floating of a bogus company, it was a notable -achievement. Never was such a web of words woven round such a dummy. Not -that the Colonel spake one word that he did not believe. He was -impeccably honest. He really valued the goods that he extolled. - -One evening in the theatre he laid his wares before us. With an -unconscious skill, he began by an appeal to the vanity and the emotions -of his hearers. - -“Gentlemen,” he said, “I have been told by one of the padres that in the -lesson for March 21st, the day on which most of us were captured, occurs -the text, ‘Be thou a ruler even in the midst among thine enemies.’ -That, gentlemen, is what I want to say to you to-night. Be rulers, I -will tell you how.” - -The prospect of gaining the mastery over the generous supply of armed -sentries was alluring. There was an instant and unanimous attention. - -“We can only do it in one way, gentlemen, and that is by combination. We -must all work together, we must work not towards individual prosperity, -but towards the prosperity of the community. No longer can we fight our -enemies in the field, but we can wage a silent war, we can prepare -ourselves so that afterwards we may be triumphant. We must work -collectively: we must unite: the life of this camp should be like one -machine, in which you are all cogs. And so, gentlemen, I have brought -forward my scheme. I have called it the Pitt League, because, well, -gentlemen, because it rhymes with _grit_.” - -And then followed an exposition worthy of the great Tartarin. But even -the hero of Tarascon can hardly have brought to play in the account of -his visionary Saharas such a fancy, such an overwhelming unreason, such -a complete contempt for the bounds of probability. Slowly idea followed -on idea, slowly the colossal fabric was raised. That Colonel Westcott -was a caricature must always be kept in mind; but even so I think the -excitement of the moment must have caught him up. Even he could not in -cold blood have conceived such fabulous creations. - -The scheme began by amalgamating The Future Career Society; and starting -at the point where that society had wisely halted, proceeded to include -every department of Imperial life. Committees would be formed; debates -and lectures arranged. A research committee would be able to provide -information on any subject; a trade and commerce department would -provide a comprehensive study of the growth of trade and of Colonial -expansion. It would work out every problem of navigation, and every fine -question of markets, their rise and fall. A department for home affairs -would provide recipes by which thirty million people could live without -competition. Divorce, Politics, Education, State control of vice, small -holdings, all these would be settled. And then the Dominions, each -Colony would have its own department, where Colonials would decide on -how best they could further the Imperial ideals. Then there was the -regular soldier side, the Imperial Force branch. And here perhaps the -Colonel’s fancy flew farthest and highest, military strategy would be -dealt with from primeval time. Sand-maps on the floor would show the -site of battle-fields and the dispositions of the rival armies; tactics -would be exhaustively discussed. A new and infallible method of attack -would be evolved for the next war. - -And all these activities would be accomplished, in spite of the fact -that no one in the camp possessed the least information on any of these -points; and that as a remedy for their defect there existed neither a -reference library nor the likelihood of obtaining one. But by this -Colonel Westcott was nothing daunted. Perhaps at the back of his mind -there was the unconscious knowledge that the end is nothing, the means -all, “and that to move is somewhat although the goal be far.” - -“And when we go back to England,” he concluded, “you will be able to -effect the reforms you have thought out here. You will go back with a -collective and not an individual patriotism. You will be capable of -really efficient citizenship. We shall still be able to move forward as -one body. That is the Pitt League, gentlemen.” - -And then followed the sentence for which he deserves immortality. - -“It’s my scheme and I like it. I know you’ll like it too.” - -He had out-tartarined Tartarin. Caricature in one human frame could go -no further. - - -§ 2 - -The Pitt League fared as might have been expected. It was born and -christened amid much enthusiasm. The whole camp found itself enrolled -under some branch or other, elaborate programmes were devised. The walls -of the theatre were covered with notices. Every Wednesday the heads of -each branch met in what was called the Parliament of the Pitt League, of -which Colonel Westcott was Prime Minister. This gave the required -semblance of unity and collective patriotism. A few field officers and -senior captains found that a certain amount of work had devolved upon -their shoulders, but the life of the average subaltern continued -undisturbed. In practice no one is a collectivist, unless it is likely -to prove to his advantage. No one wants to be a cog in any machine that -does not produce tangible results; and though the camp gave the Pitt -League its sympathy and encouragement, it did not see its way to -further any interests not its own. The Colonel, however, was quite -content with his work. He was Prime Minister of his own Parliament, and -everywhere his eyes were confronted with tabulated evidence of his -enterprise. - -“A very different camp,” he would say to himself. “There is now a -purpose and an end ... a thorough change of attitude, and,” he would -proudly add, “it is all my doing.” - -From this energy, however, there did spring two incidental results: one -touched me personally, the other only in as far as I was a member of the -general community. The former was that I discovered my name on the -syllabus of the Home Affairs branch as a future lecturer on Social -Reform, a privilege which was deferred weekly with considerable -ingenuity until the signing of the Armistice absolved me from my -promise; the other was the inauguration of the Priority Pass. - -For it is one of the traits in human nature that no sooner does a man -begin to do any work for which he is not paid than he demands -recognition of some sort. He wants to be differentiated from the rest. -The man who has served twelve months as an A.S.C. batman clamours for an -extra chevron. Why should he be ranked on the same level as the -infantryman who has only been in the line thirteen weeks. The officer -who censored letters at the Base in the first October of the war demands -a riband to show he is not one of those mere conscripts who only landed -in 1915. They are working of course not “for glory or for honour.” Their -service is perfectly disinterested, all they want is to be of help to -the nation. But still, they do think, that in common justice some sort -of difference should be made, some privilege perhaps.... - -And it was so with the officials of the Pitt League. They all maintained -that it was their greatest delight to be of service to the camp, that -they were collectivists of the truest and most practical kind. Yet they -were only human, and when they saw lazy officers reaping where they had -themselves sown, the wedge of justice slipped itself beneath the barrier -of their altruism. The elemental idea of “mine and thine” once firmly -planted, strengthened and took root. They felt the need of recompense. - -For some time they were in doubt as to the dress in which public -gratitude should be arrayed. But at last the shorthand expert was gifted -with an inspiration. Triumphantly he bore his commodity to the premier. - -“Sir, couldn’t we have precedence in queues?” - -“Precedence, Wilkins?” - -“Yes, Sir, we have such a lot to do, that really we have not time to -waste half the morning in queues. Couldn’t we have a pass or something -so that we could go straight in?” - -“Oh, yes, admirable, Wilkins, admirable. A Priority Pass, the very -thing.” - -And so the abuse of privilege began. - -The camp, not realising what it would lead to, received this news with -equanimity. - -“Quite right too,” was the general opinion. “These fellows do a lot of -work. They have not got too much spare time.” - -Within a day or two the opinion changed. For holders of passes always -used them at the same time, that is, when it was most inconvenient to -the rest of the queue. For the chief joy of a privilege lies in the -flaunting of it before the eyes of the less fortunate. There were low -murmurs of resentment. - -Two afternoons later I met Stone in the last stage of exasperation. -After a stream of abuse, the “sad accidents of his tragedy” became -clear. - -It was a wet, windy afternoon, and Stone had been waiting in the -“cheque” queue for over an hour. He was heartily sick of it, but had -been particularly anxious to draw his money before roll-call, having -booked the billiard-table for immediately afterwards. And it had really -looked as though he would be just in time. Five more minutes, and he -was fourth in the queue; a minute a man. It should have worked out all -right. - -Slowly the queue had moved forwards. Too slowly for Stone. There had -been a delay of almost two minutes, because some ass had not been able -to remember the amount of his cheque. Numerous sheets had to be turned -over. It was “a bit thick.” - -But at last the three men in front of him had been disposed of. With a -minute to spare, he had just been about to walk into the office, when a -voice had bawled, “Half a minute,” and a diminutive captain had rushed -up panting. - -“Just in time.” - -“Afraid you won’t get in before roll-call,” Stone had said, sunning -himself in his serenity. - -“Oh, that’s all right. I’ve got a Priority Pass.” - -“A what?” - -“A Priority Pass.” - -“But what for?” - -“Botany. Ah, there’s that fellow coming out. My turn, cheerioh.” - -And thirty seconds later the bell had gone for roll-call. - -“It’s the limit,” said Stone, “the absolute limit, and do you know what -that absurd botany ass does, two hours a week, that’s all. Damn it all, -and then he can just saunter into a queue whenever he likes. I’ve a -jolly good mind to get a Priority Pass myself, it’s quite easy, all -you’ve got to do is to invent a language that no one else is likely to -know. Finnish, say, and old Westcott would be only too bucked to have -another branch to his ‘Up dogs and at ’em’ League.” - -To invent a language. - -The idea ran through my mind, a glimmering thread of thought. What was -it George Moore had said? A new tongue was needed. The day of the -English language was over. It had passed through so many hands, been -filtered in so many places, that it was now colourless and without -significance. But this new tongue, this child that was waiting to be -cradled; it was a lyre from which any rhythm might be struck; it was -virgin soil that would bear epic upon epic, masterpiece on masterpiece; -and it would be so simple, so childishly simple. All that was needed was -the purchase of an Otto-Sauer conversation grammar which we could -translate into Finnish. No one would be any the wiser. Colonel Westcott -could be taken in quite easily. - -I began to picture the scene. - -Stone and I would go to him one evening, when there had been potatoes -for supper. We should find him well filled and satisfied, puffing -contentedly at a cigar, and musing sentimentally over an ideal world -peopled with the Anglo-Saxon race, bred on collectivism and eugenics. - -He would greet us with a kindly patronising smile. - -“Well, Stone. Yes, and let me see, who is it, Waugh. Well?” - -“Well, Sir, the fact is that Stone and myself have been thinking a good -deal lately about our duties as citizens. We were wondering whether we -were really doing all we could. It’s such a splendid opportunity here, -Sir. We could lay the foundations of so much.” - -“Certainly, Waugh, certainly, an admirable thought.” - -“And, Sir, we were wondering whether you had ever considered the -possibilities of Finland, Sir.” - -“Finland, Waugh.” - -“Yes, Sir. I believe it’s the coming centre of the herring trade, and -I’m sure if some of these fellows here realised it, they would be only -too keen to try their luck there, and it would be a great thing for the -Empire, Sir, if we could collar the herring trade.” - -And Colonel Westcott, whose ideals of citizenship were more surely laid -than his knowledge of commerce, would not be able to withhold a grunt of -assent. - -“But, Sir,” I should go on, “the fact is that in order to trade with the -Finns one must be able to speak their language, and you see, Sir, it’s -the only language they’ve got, and they’re very sensitive about it.” - -“Of course, of course, very natural, very natural indeed.” - -“And, Sir, Stone and I, well, I’ve lived there a good deal, and so has -Stone, and we thought, Sir, it might be a good thing to start a Finnish -class.” - -“Admirable, Waugh, of course, if you think you can do it.” - -“Oh, yes, I think we could, Sir,” I should explain. “As I said to Stone, -‘we owe a duty to the State as well as to ourselves, and it would be -very selfish if we went to Finland alone.’ It’s our duty as citizens, -Sir, to think, not in terms of the individual, but of the community.” - -Almost an echo of the Colonel’s own sentiments as expressed in his most -recent jeremiad. How benignly he would beam on us, how he would -recognise in us the objectification of his ideal. - -“I’m very glad, very gratified indeed that you should feel like that,” -he would have said. “It’s the right spirit, the sooner you start the -class the better.” - -We should have risen to go, but at the door we should have turned back. - -“I’m sorry to trouble you again, Sir,” I should say, “but there is just -one little point. It’ll mean a great deal of work for Stone and myself. -We shall have no grammar or anything.” - -“Of course, Waugh, I can quite see that.” - -“And there’s very little spare time with these queues and things.” - -“Oh, but I think we shall be able to manage that,” Colonel Westcott -would say. “I don’t see why you shouldn’t both be given Priority Passes. -It’s a very unselfish work, I’ll see about it. I think it’ll be all -right.” - -And within two days our names would appear on the already lengthening -list of privileged persons. - -And then what would happen? The Finnish class would follow the course of -all our studies in the Offiziergefangenenlager, Mainz. Upwards of -thirty would attend the initial lecture. Within a week this number would -have sunken within the teens, from which it would gradually recede to -the comfortable proportions of five or six. For these few enthusiasts we -should cater, and for their righteousness, as aforetime for Gomorrah’s, -would be issued the divine dispensation--a yellow ticket. - -And what a language it would be. With what fancy would the common -articulation of the everyday world be passed into an æsthetic mould. How -arbitrary would be the rules of taste, what a harmonious blending of -sibilants and liquids. How George Moore would glory in our creation. - -And then I supposed we should begin to tire of our toy; the novelty -would wear off; the lyric impulse would be lost. It would degenerate -into hackwork. And then we should try to get rid of it; with a sort of -false sentimentality we should muse over the pleasant hours we had spent -with it, and wonder if the affection had been returned, almost as the -hero of a French novel sighs over a discarded mistress. - -Then, of course, there would be Colonel Westcott. We should not wish to -disillusion him, to show ourselves as we really were. We should wish to -maintain the deception to its end. His opinion of us would be very high. - -We should present ourselves to him apologetically, as men for whom the -burden of reforming mankind had grown too heavy. We should give the -Colonel the impression that he and we were pioneers in advance of our -age, stationed at the outposts of progress; that where we stood to-day, -the world would stand to-morrow. But in the meantime.... - -“You see, Sir,” I should say, “there are only four fellows learning -Finnish, and none of them, if I may say so, seem to me the sort of -fellows we really want. They’re more of the class of chap who learns a -language merely to be able to say he knows it, and really, Sir, I don’t -know if it’s worth our while to spend so much time on them. You were -talking the other day about conservation of energy, Sir.” - -The Colonel would bend confidingly. So far this catchword had not -suggested itself to him. But it was surely only a matter of time. - -“And,” I should continue, “we thought we’d be really doing better if we -were to learn a language ourselves. Stone thought the same, Sir, but he -said, ‘We must ask Colonel Westcott first.’” - -“Ah, quite right, quite right, it’s no use wasting our forces. If -fellows won’t back you up, well, it’s their fault, not yours. You’ve -done your best.” - -And doubtless in that moment the Colonel’s thoughts would be flying -forward tentatively to the grey days of demobilisation, to the sundering -of the one river into its many streams. And he could see himself -standing there at the parting of the ways, his averted eyes turned back -to the pleasant pastures, to the unity and harmony of war. He could see -himself as the last relic of a more golden era, of a cleaner if not -more clever world. - -“And you really think, Sir, that we have done our best?” - -“No doubt about that, oh, none at all,” he would sigh. “I only wish we -had a few more like you in the camp. It’s the right spirit.” - -And we should acknowledge the panegyric with a smile, and leave him to -his dreams and aspirations, his Pan-Saxon Utopia. - - * * * * * - -But it could not be done. In actuality the scheme would lose its -glamour, its wayward charm. It was better to let it remain in the -imagination, the fresh counterpart of some less noble phenomenon. _Aimez -ce que jamais on ne verra pas deux fois._ - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -THE GERMAN ATTITUDE - - -During those early days the chief interest of our life lay in the -insight it gave into the conditions and psychology of the German people. -For nearly four years we had been at war with this nation, and yet we -knew practically nothing about it. For four years an iron screen had -been drawn between us and them. All the information that we received -came to us through the filtering places of many censorships. We were -told only what the authorities wished us to be told; and of the -countless activities of Germany, report reached us of none that could -bring credit to any nation but our own. But now we were able to converse -freely with German officers and soldiers, and form our own opinion as to -their attitude towards us. - -Of course this opinion is subject to numberless qualifications. Even -from the highest window of the citadel only a limited view can be -obtained of a country that has been the subject of so much calumny and -conjecture. Our impressions were confined to one province and one town -in that province; they cannot be said to represent the mentality of -Germany as a whole; and of the five hundred officers confined within the -barracks, each individual has brought home with him a different idea of -Germany and the Germans. - -And again, it may be that personally I have been rather fortunate in my -experiences. Baden-Hessen is one of the least Prussianised Provinces in -Germany, and officer prisoners of war are treated a great deal better -than the men. But I do believe that the conversations I had with various -Germans, both soldiers and civilians, give a fairly accurate index to -the attitude of a large number of the enemy. - -What came as the greatest surprise to me personally was the absence, to -a considerable extent, of all vindictiveness and hate. Evidence goes to -prove that there was in the early months of the war a good deal of -collective hate; and as a relic of this there were in the shops picture -postcards of sinking battleships headed “Gott strafe England,” and the -cartoons in the illustrated papers such as _Simplicissimus_ and the -_Lustige Blätter_ were all to the tune of “my baton drips with blood.” -But the _Frankfurter Zeitung_, which is the representative paper of that -part of the country, was absolutely free from articles headed “The -English Beast” or “The Devilish Briton.” It afforded an ideal example of -journalistic continence. - -And it was the same with their poetry and literature. There was much -verse inspired by the same violence as “The Hymn of Hate.” There were -numberless sonnets starting off, “England, du perfides land,” and it is -only this sort of stuff that we have been allowed to read in England. -This is the standard by which the Germans have been judged, and it -presents them in a very false light. For after all, if the “hate” verse -that is scattered throughout the English Press were to be taken as -representative of the ideals and the aspirations of the race, we should -show up none too well. For with the majority, no sooner does a man try -to put his thoughts into words, than he loses his bearings. He does not -write what he feels, but what he thinks he should feel. All that is -genuine in him is inarticulate, and the obvious rises to the surface. -And it has followed that in the last four years there has been an -incredible quantity of bad verse written and very little good. But that -little good is the key to the English temperament. The secret longings -of the individual have been revealed not in the type of poem that goes-- - - “We mean to thrash these Prussian Pups, - We’ll bag their ships, we’ll smash old Krupps, - We loathe them all, the dirty swine, - We’ll drown the whole lot in the Rhine.” - -They have found their expression in the deep and sincere emotion of such -poems as “Not Dead,” by Robert Graves, J. C. Squire’s “The Bulldog,” -Robert Nichols’s “Fulfilment,” and Siegfried Sassoon’s “In the Pink.” - -And working from this basis, it is surely more just to judge Germany -less by the cheap vehemence of Lissauer than by those quiet poems that, -hidden away among pages of opprobrium and rhetoric, enshrine far more -truthfully those emotions that have lingered in the heart of the -suffering individual from the very beginning of time. - -There is a poem on a captured trench that opens with a brief -word-picture of the scene, the squalor, the battered parapet, the dead -men. “Over this trench,” the poet continues-- - - “Over this trench will soon be shed a mother’s tears. - Pain is pain always, - And courage is true wheresoever it may be found. - And in the hearts of our enemy were both these things.... - That we must not forget; - Germany must love even with the sword that kills.” - -That sentiment is universal, it contains the complete tragedy of -conquest. - -And indeed for the individual soldier war is the same under whatever -standard he may fight. German militarism may have been the aggressive -factor, but the individual did not know it. Unless a people feels its -cause to be just, it will not enter into the lists. If it is the -aggressor, then that people must be hoodwinked. The victory lust of 1914 -was a collective emotion springing from the German temperament and from -their belief that they were in the right. The individual soldier went to -battle with feelings not too far removed from our own. - -“The war was a crusade to us then,” a German professor said to me; “we -felt that France and Russia had been steadily preparing war for years. -We felt that they were only awaiting an opportunity. The Russians -mobilised long before we did. They drove us to it.” - -It was in that spirit, he told me, that the German volunteer armed -himself in August 1914. - -“But of course,” he said, “it didn’t last long. The glamour went soon -enough. And now, well, all we want is that the war should cease.” - -And in the spring of 1918 the individual outlook in many ways resembled -that of France and England. There was the same talk of profiteers, of -the men who dreaded the cessation of hostilities, of the ministers who -were clinging to office. There was the old talk of those who had not -suffered in the war. It was all very well for the rich, they could buy -butter, they did not have to starve. They managed to find soft jobs -behind the lines. They did not want the war to stop. Indeed, the -resentment against the “shirkers” and “profiteers” was more acute than -the hatred of the Allies. For after all, emotions like love and hate are -not collective. One can only hate the thing one knows. - -And from conversations with this German professor emerged the spiritual -odyssey of his nation. The change from enthusiasm came apparently very -quickly; probably because the Alliance suffered so heavily in loss of -life, and because its internal troubles were so great. The war weariness -had not taken long to settle; for many months peace had seemed the only -desirable end, and victory in the field was regarded as important only -in as far as it appeared the safest road to this goal. Victory _qua_ -victory they no longer desired. - -This the Imperialists and pan-Germans must have realised, and they had -made it their business to persuade their people that without victory -peace was impossible. A significant illustration of this is afforded by -the change of catchword, as displayed on public notices. Below some of -the early photographs of the Crown Prince was printed “Durch Kampf zum -Sieg”--“Through battle to victory,” and this represented the early -attitude; but by the time that we had arrived in Germany this had been -changed. On many of the match-boxes was a picture of a soldier and a -munition worker shaking hands, and beneath was written, “Durch Arbeit -zum Sieg: Durch Sieg zum Frieden.” - -This was what the Imperialists had to keep before the people if they -wished to retain their office and their ambitions. The people were no -longer prepared to sacrifice themselves for some abstract conception of -glory and honour. They wanted peace, and as long as their armies were -able to conquer in the field they were prepared to believe that that was -the way to peace. But if their hopes proved unfounded, they were in a -state of readiness to seek what they wanted by other means. - -It was no longer “zum Sieg” but “durch Sieg”; and in view of what has -since happened, I think, this is an important thing to grasp. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -PARCELS - - -§ 1 - -Towards the middle of June parcels began to arrive, and the camp became -a very whispering gallery of rumours. It started with a wire from the -Red Cross at Copenhagen stating that a consignment of relief parcels had -been dispatched. From that moment, there was no incident of the day that -was not somehow construed into a veiled reference to Danish bread. - -Lieut. Jones would meet Lieut. Brown on the way to the library. - -“Any news this morning, Brown?” - -“Nothing official.” - -“Then what’s the latest rumour?” - -“Well, I shouldn’t put too much trust in it, old man,” Brown would -answer guardedly, “but I saw Colonel Croft talking to one of the -Unter-officers this morning.” - -“Did you hear what they were saying?” - -“No,” said Lieut. Brown. “You see, I can’t speak German, but by the way -they were gesticulating and all that, I feel pretty certain it was about -these parcels.” - -And within two hours it was common knowledge throughout the camp that -the Unter-officer of Block II had told Colonel Croft that there were two -hundred parcels within the camp. - -As the days passed, and no consignment arrived, conjecture exceeded -every bound of possibility. It was asserted on the one hand that the -parcels had been commandeered on the way by the German army, and on -another that the parcels had actually arrived and were in the camp, but -that the Commandant had refused to issue them till he had received -instructions from Berlin. During these days there was no epithet with -which the word Boche went uncoupled. - -At last, however, the parcels did arrive; a large cart was perceived -entering the gate laden with cardboard boxes, and a roseate mist -enveloped the outlook of the _Gefangener_. The lean years were at an -end, prosperity was in sight, and the flesh-pots of Egypt already -steamed within the imagination. “Bread’s in the citadel, all’s well with -the world.” - -But one thing had been overlooked. A composition of milk and flour is -not improved by the delays of a protracted journey through the metallic -heats of a German summer. The bread was unbelievably mouldy. - -Well, we tried to imagine that we enjoyed it, and it was certainly -something to eat; we doctored it and applied every remedy that the -ingenuity of the R.A.M.C. could devise; but there are limits beyond -which redemption cannot pass. There are stains which only dissolution -can annul, and the freshness of white bread once lost is as -irrecoverable as virginity. Green it was, and green it remained. The -taste of mould was there and baking would not remove it. - -Perhaps there was some comfort in the assurances of the doctor that, -after it had been soaked and heated, it could do no active harm: but it -could not change the nature of the object. Sadly it was agreed that -bread was a washout. - -However, it served a moral if not a physical purpose. It was the prophet -of the sunrise, the false dawn that was the inevitable herald of a -readjusted life. If bread could come from Copenhagen, it followed that -the grocery parcels from London were not so immeasurably remote. - -For weeks they had appeared on the horizon far withdrawn, invested with -Utopian glamour. Orderlies who had been captured since Mons had told us -what tins each parcel of the cycle would contain. The list of delicacies -had been devoured by eager eyes, but their existence had always savoured -of the impossible. They were the dreams of some incurable romantic; -there could not really be such things, at least not in Germany. But now -they actually began to approach within mortal gaze; after all, the -Citadel Mainz was not so utterly separated from the rational world. The -authorities in England had apparently realised that some six hundred -officers were beleaguered there upon those ultimate islands. An -agreeable reflection; and, once more, conversation centred wholly upon -food. - -And a more barren topic could hardly be discovered. Perhaps some romance -might be woven round the intricacies of a Trimalchio’s banquet, and a -distinguished novelist made one of his characters woo triumphantly his -beloved with a dazzling succession of French _pâtisseries_; but bully -beef and pork and beans are too solid a matter for anything but a moral -discourse. They have no lyric fervour, their very sound is redolent of -platitudes, and from the beginning of the day up to the very end to hear -nothing but panegyrics on their composition,--it was indeed a trial. - -[Illustration: A “PRISON CELL.” - -[_To face page 104._ -] - - -§ 2 - -It was not till the end of June that parcels began to arrive at fixed -and regular intervals, and those were days of great excitement. Each -morning at 8.30 a.m. the names went up on the notice board, and -immediately a cry ran round the barracks, “List up.” Pandemonium broke -loose. The laziest _Gefangener_ leapt from his bed, pulled on a pair of -trousers, dived into the safety of a trench coat, and rushed for the -board. In that space were waged Homeric contests. Some hundred brawny -soldiers were all struggling towards a small board, on which fluttered -the almost illegible carbon copies of the sacred list. There was much -craning of necks, and driving of elbows, much cursing and much -apologising. The weak were driven to the wall; and even when a forward -surge had borne the eager aspirant to the portals of his inquiry, there -remained for him the ardours of retreat. Through a solid square of -humanity he had to drive his harassed frame. - -These were moments of high excitement and of an equivalent depression. -Those to whom the rush for the board had seemed too hazardous an exploit -waited impatiently within the room for the tidings of some enterprising -herald. Anxiously they would lean out of the window looking for a -returning comrade. - -“By Jove,” some one would say, “look, here’s Evans coming.” - -“Has he signalled anything?” - -“No, but he’s coming awful slow. There can’t be anything for him.” - -And sadly Evans would re-enter the room from which he had set forth with -such gay hopes. - -“One for you, Turner; and you’ve clicked, Smith, two for you; and -Piggett, you’ve got one. Nothing for the rest.” - -“Nothing?” echoed the rest. - -“No,” Evans would grunt, and for him, as for the other unfortunates, the -remainder of the day had lost all savour and romance. - -For the lucky, however, the excitement of the morning had only just -begun, and a mere name on the parcel list served but as a preliminary -excitant. The real zest of dissipation was still in store. Behind the -barred doors of the “Ausgabe” lay all the innumerable varieties of an -assignation. There might be cigarettes, clothing perhaps, a cycle parcel -from Thurloe Place, or, and this was in parenthesis, a mouldy loaf from -Copenhagen. - -First of all, there was the queue, the inevitable prelude to every form -of punishment and amusement; and in this queue conjecture ran wild on -the probable percentage of bread parcels in the camp. - -“Well, I was standing by the gate yesterday,” one fellow was saying, -“and I saw a load of parcels come in, and damn me if every one wasn’t a -Thurloe Place.” - -“Ah,” but the pessimist would break in, “that was the second load, you -saw. I watched all three come in, and believe me, in the first and last -loads there was nothing but bread.” - -This, however, no one would believe, and the imparter of this rumour -was told to secrete his information elsewhere. - -Slowly the queue moved forward, and at last the claimant passed through -the sacred portals that were watched over by guardian angels in the form -of whiskered sentries with zigzagged bayonets; within the sacred place -there were even more seraphim. Behind a long table stood four slovenly -civilians, whose duty it was to open the parcels, and see that no sabres -or revolvers were concealed beneath the apparent innocence of a tin of -Maconochie’s beef dripping. At a far corner of the table was the high -priest, the master of the ceremonies. He sat there “coldly sublime, -intolerably just,” with a large book in which he entered every name. - -Action proceeded on lines of Teutonic formality. The claimant for a -parcel would first of all present himself before the high priest, and -murmur the number of his parcel. - -“Twenty-one.” - -This the high priest would translate into German with a commendable -rapidity. - -“Ein und zwanzig.” - -He would shout this over his shoulder to one of the many satellites -whose work it was to produce the required parcel. The next few seconds -would be anxious ones for the hungry _Gefangener_. He would watch the -sentry move about among a store of boxes, moving one, displacing -another. He would lift a parcel so small that it could assuredly contain -nothing but boot polish, and a shiver would pass through the leanly -expectant. But at last, after many vacillations and counter-marches, he -would emerge triumphantly with a cardboard box bearing the large Red -Cross of the Central London Committee. - -But even then there was more to be done. Each parcel had to be carefully -opened and its contents examined. No tins nor paper could be taken away. -Packets of tea and cocoa had to be stripped of their covering and -emptied into baskets, while the tinned foods were spirited away to the -block cellar, where later in the day they were opened in the presence -of a number of sentinels. - -The reason for all this palaver we never quite managed to fathom. It was -surely enough that the British Red Cross had pledged its word not to -include for exportation tracts for the times, pulpit propaganda, or -prismatic compasses. With delightful duplicity the German authorities -laid the blame of this on to our Allies. - -“You see,” they said, “we’re very sorry, but the French get so many -things in their tins; poison for our herbs, and knives and files. We -must take precautions. Of course many parcels are quite all right, but -the French, you see....” - -And to our Allies the Germans told the same tale. - -“You see,” they said, “your parcels are all right, but the English hide -corkscrews in their bully beef. We must take precautions....” - -And so another link was added to the immense chain of queues. - -At this time, too, letters and books began to arrive, and over these -officialdom wound all the intricacies that it could muster. Letters had -to be fumigated first, each page had to be carefully censored, and -stamped with a large messy blue circle usually deposited over the least -legible portion of the correspondence. And every novel had to be read -from beginning to end. - -Numerous were the regulations. Any reference to Germany was taboo, the -mere mention of the word Hun or Boche was the signal for confiscation. -Of my first consignment of books, two were suppressed. One of them being -rather a prolix novel to the tune of khaki kisses, was not much loss; -but the other, Ford Madox Hueffer’s volume of poems, I made valiant -efforts to save. One evening I caught the censor unprepared, and pointed -out to him that the author was a man of complete literary integrity, and -that nothing he could write could be looked upon as dangerous. - -“Ah, but,” the censor expostulated, “it is all full of Huns and Boche.” - -“Ah, well,” I said, “can’t you tear those pages out?” - -“But then there would be no pages left,” and against this assertion -argument was impossible. “And you see,” he went on, “we are not Huns.” - -“No?” I said. - -“No, the Huns were beaten at Chalons in A.D. 453. You have no right to -call us Huns. That is your Northcliffe Press your hate campaign; we are -men the same as you.” - -And it was quite useless to point out that the average soldier applies -the nickname “Hun” or “Boche” or “Jerry” in very much the same way as we -call the Scotch “Jocks” and the Frenchmen “Froggies.” - -The censor would not see it. “You think we are all barbarians,” he -maintained. “It is your hate campaign, and we are not Huns; the Huns -were beaten in 453 at Chalons by the Romans.” - -East of the Rhine there is not much sense of humour. - -And indeed, considering the way in which the Kaiser has compared himself -to Attila, our warders were peculiarly sensitive on this point. And they -always approached it with that strange Teuton seriousness that is for -ever hanging over the crags of the ridiculous. - -At Karlsruhe, on the preceding Christmas, a certain officer, who had -spent most of the afternoon beside a bottle, in the middle of a camp -concert arrogated to himself the right to play a leading part. And -leaping on the stage, he had for the space of half an hour regaled the -audience with an exhilarating exhibition that contained many -good-humoured but forceful references to his “sweet friend the enemy.” -Unfortunately a German censor was present, and the next morning the -officer was testily buttonholed by the sleuthhound. - -“Captain Arnold,” said the censor, “I do not wish to make any trouble -between you and us, but you said last night many things that were most -offensive.” - -Captain Arnold, whose memories of the preceding evening were shrouded -in a mist of cocktails, endeavoured to be jocular. - -“Oh, no, surely not? Not offensive; come now, not offensive.” - -“Oh, yes, indeed they were; most offensive, Captain Arnold. You called -us Huns.” - -The gallant officer realised that he had been indiscreet, and saw that -only one way lay open to him. - -“Hun,” he said. “But why not, that’s what you call yourselves, isn’t -it?” - -The censor looked astonished, and aggrieved. - -“But surely, Captain Arnold, you know what is a Hun?” - -“Not exactly, no.” - -“Very good. I will show you.” - -The next day the censor appeared bearing a history of Germany in three -volumes. - -“Now, Captain Arnold,” he said, “you will find here all there is to -know. It is quite simple; no doubt you will be able to borrow a German -dictionary, so that you can look up the words. You will find all about -it.” - -For three days Captain Arnold kept the books, and then returned them -with many thanks and a promise not to repeat his insults. - -“I thought you would understand,” said the German censor. “It is only -ignorance on your part that makes you call us Huns; and now you will -tell your comrades, and they will understand too.” - -And the little man trotted off, happy in the thought that his race had -emerged from the examination triumphantly vindicated. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -OUR GENERAL TREATMENT - - -A great deal has been said and written on the subject of the treatment -of British prisoners of war, and the general idea at the present moment -is one of a succession of unparalleled brutalities and insults. That -much inhumanity has been shown it is neither possible nor desirable to -deny, and it is only just that those responsible should have to give an -account of their actions. But it must be borne in mind that though all -the instances brought forward are perfectly true and authentic, -propaganda aims not at the _vraie vérité_, but at the establishment of -an argument; and the individual instances, which have formed the -foundations of this conception of inhumanity, do not present a complete -picture of captivity, and should not be taken as typical of every prison -camp. - -Of course one can only write about what one knows. Baden-Hessen is one -of the more moderate provinces; and the treatment of officers is -infinitely better than that of the men. But, speaking from my own -experience, I can say with perfect sincerity that, from the moment when -I was captured to the moment of release, I was not subjected to a single -insult or a single act of brutality. I was treated with as much courtesy -as I should have expected from a battalion orderly-room, and the -discomforts and inconveniences of the journey were due in the main to -faulty organisation. It sounds bad when one hears that a batch of -prisoners were sent on a four days’ journey with rations for one day, -but the corollary that the accompanying German sentries were provided -with exactly the same amount of food casts a very different aspect on -the case. - -The starvation of prisoners has become almost an axiom, and indeed they -were miserably underfed; but so was the entire German people, and the -custom of treating prisoners as well as civilians is confined to -England. Among all continental nations it is an understood thing that on -the scale of diet the enemy should come last, and in Germany there was -only enough food for a bare existence. - -In this respect, I believe, officers were much more fortunate than their -men, and certainly they had the great advantage of a permanent address. -For the men were being continually moved from one camp to another. At -one time they would be working in the fields, at another in the salt -mines, sometimes stopping for a couple of months, sometimes only for a -few days. The result of this was that their parcels were trailing after -them right across Germany. At times they would go several months without -one at all, and then if they had the luck to make somewhere a prolonged -sojourn, they might receive thirteen parcels within three days. Of -course the men shared out their parcels as far as possible, but they -were never certain what was coming next, and they had many very hungry -days. - -With us there was none of that: we were in a permanent camp, and our -parcels when once they had begun to arrive came through regularly. There -were delays occasionally, especially when heavy fighting involved -congestion of the railways; but eventually we received every parcel -dispatched from a central committee. The only ones that did get lost -were the home parcels that were sent privately. Everything sent from the -Red Cross Committee, or from Harrod’s or Selfridge’s, arrived intact and -in perfect condition. - -As regards actual treatment, owing to the fact that officers were not -made to work, there were very few occasions when physical violence was -possible, cases of this sort generally occurring when men proved -intractable in the factories. The only opportunities that were presented -were when officers tried to get away, and the sentries availed -themselves of these chances pretty generously. - -There were four or five attempted escapes, and on two of these occasions -the officers were badly mauled by the sentries. The second time that -this happened the German orderly officer put a stop to this treatment at -once; but on the first occasion the officer stood by while the sentries -belaboured their captive with the butts of their rifles. - -The would-be Monte Cristos turned to the German officer and asked him if -he considered such treatment proper for a British officer. - -The German shrugged his shoulders. “Oh, well,” he said, “you must expect -this sort of thing if you try to escape. You ought to stop in your -room.” - -Before, this particular German had always been especially agreeable to -us. The only possible excuse for his behaviour lies in the fact that he -was very fond of the bottle, and might have been a little drunk. But -however one looks at it, it was a sufficiently discreditable affair. - -Of the insults and degradations to which the officers of the camp at -Holzminden were subjected we had no experience. The Germans adopted -towards us an invariable attitude of respect that was if anything too -suave. They were always profuse with promises, but it was very hard to -get anything out of them. - -“Oh, yes,” they would say, “we can do that easily. We will go to the -General and it will be all right. Don’t worry any more about it. We’ll -see to it, it will be quite simple.” - -But nothing ever happened. The simplest request always managed to lose -itself somewhere between the block office and the Commandant’s study; -and gradually we learnt that formal applications were no use whatsoever, -and that if any one wished to change from one room to another, the -surest way to get there was to collect all his baggage into a heap and -move there independently. - -The probable cause of this was the General himself, who was one of the -most arrogant and pompous little men that militarism could produce. He -was the complete Prussian, the Prussian of the music-hall and the -Lyceum. Very small and straight, he would strut about the parade-ground -clanking his spurs, or else he would stand in a pose, his cloak pulled -back to reveal his Iron Cross. And he was utterly vindictive. One does -not wish to misjudge any human being, but I feel sure he must have -derived an acute pleasure from sitting at his window and looking down on -the court, his eyes hungry for some misdemeanour on our parts, in which -he might possibly find an excuse for some punishment. - -He was certainly given opportunities, and I think that considering the -man he was, it would have been judicious to have approached him in a -slightly different way. But it always happens that the majority have to -suffer for the faults of a few thoughtless people, and several -restrictions were placed on the camp that could have been easily -avoided. In every community there is the rowdy section, and this -rowdiness was accentuated by the lack of freedom. There was no outlet -for energy, except a walk round the square, or a very occasional game of -hockey. And the spirits of the swashbucklers found expression in “rags” -organised on an extensive scale. - -But it was unfortunate for those who, having realised that they were -prisoners, wished to make the best of their conditions. And really the -rags were extraordinarily futile. One sportsman conceived the idea of -lowering from the top-story windows dummies which the sentries would -mistake for escaping Britishers and fire at. Luckily this scheme was -suppressed, but there was nevertheless one night a very large and -organised jollification, which was of course exactly what the General -wanted. - -For three weeks he closed the camp theatre, and put a stop to music and -concerts of any description, which meant the removal of the only form of -amusement that we had. - -On another occasion when bombs were being dropped on Mainz, a few -officers began to cheer and shout. It was again playing straight into -the General’s hands. He immediately stopped for a period of two months -all walks outside the camp, and any one who has been a prisoner will -know what the curtailing of that privilege meant. It was a great pity, -and our prison life would have been much more easy, if only the -turbulent few had realised that it was in their own interests to keep -quiet, considering the man with whom they had to deal. - -Though as a matter of fact I have little doubt that, however well we had -behaved, the General would have found some excuse for inflicting -reprisals. For he was quite capable of inventing regulations off his own -bat. He was a sort of self-elected dictator, and drew up his own code -and Army Act. His most scandalous infliction was an order that the -covers should be removed from all books before being issued to the camp. -The old excuse was brought forward; the French used to hide maps and -poison between the cardboard and the cloth. - -For this order the General had apparently no authority whatsoever, and -it was particularly unjust, because we had been precisely told at -Karlsruhe that all books must come direct from a publisher, so as to -prevent any danger of their being tampered with. The result was that we -had all sent home for new copies of books of which we already had soiled -duplicates, and then when the books arrived, we found that they had to -be practically cut to pieces. - -They told us that the books could be kept for us if we liked, but -naturally we did want to read them, now that they had come, and we had -no other alternative but to authorise their execution; and surely for -the true book-lover there can be no fate more awful than to have to -stand in silence and watch book after book being barbarously mutilated. - -Occasionally we would try and save a volume. The Bible was the centre of -much controversy. There was no reason why it should be regarded as any -more innocent than a Swinburne as a possible receptacle for propaganda, -but the censor did certainly hesitate over it for a moment. But -eventually he did not relent. - -“No, I’m afraid it must go,” he said; “after all that God has put up -with during the last four years, He ought to be able to survive this.” - -It was the one flash of wit he showed, but it did little to save our -covers. To all intents and purposes the books were ruined. The leaves -began to turn up at the edges. After a book had been read three times, -the glue at the back had cracked, and the pages gradually loosened. It -was a sorry business; at least two hundred pounds’ worth of books must -have been cut up within three months, and there was absolutely no -authority for the order. This we discovered later on, when we managed to -lodge a complaint before the Central Command at Frankfort. They told us -there that they had no objection at all to the issue of books with -covers, and the restriction was instantly removed; but in the meantime -no small part of a library had been destroyed. - -But our chief grievance was a medical one. The organisation of the camp -was quite inadequate to meet the demands of any sudden epidemic. In -ordinary times it certainly worked well enough. Personally I never went -to hospital, but a friend of mine who spent a week in the isolation -hospital brought back a very favourable account of his treatment. The -food was excellent, and the sister was particularly kind, going out of -her way to do everything that lay within her power. But it was very -different towards the end of the autumn, when the grippe was raging in -the camp to such an extent that in the average room of eleven officers, -there was hardly a day when less than four officers were in bed, and the -arrangements were very poor. Of course every allowance must be made for -the fact that there was hardly any medicine in Germany, and that when a -disease had once started there, it was almost impossible to stop it. But -the medical attendance was both ignorant and desultory. Those cases -that were removed to the hospital were given, it is true, attendance as -careful as they would have received in England. But in the camp the -doctor appeared to take no interest in his work at all. Very often he -only visited the patients once every three days, and when he came he did -not take much trouble with them. He used to ask a few casual questions -and then say, “Aspirin and tea.” The sick had to rely entirely on the -other occupants of their room, and the help they received was willing -but naturally ignorant. The result was that many officers became very -seriously ill, and several of them died. The German organisation was in -this case criminally inadequate. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -THE DAILY ROUND - - -§ 1 - -Within a few weeks, however, the arrival of a parcel had ceased to be an -affair of momentous import. We could look on bully beef and Maconochies -with comparative unconcern. The contents of each parcel varied only in -such incidentals as sugar, chocolate, and packets of whole rice. The -framework was the same, a solid enough construction, but one that as a -continuous diet proved ineffably tedious. To begin with, we tried to -make our meals more interesting with improvised puddings. We mixed a -certain number of different ingredients into a bowl of water, beat them -up into a paste, and then baked them in a tepid oven. The result was -usually stodgy and quite tasteless. Personal vanity prevented us from -confessing this, and night after night we struggled through these -lukewarm, unpalatable dishes. How long this would have gone on I do not -know; when the end came it came very suddenly. - -One evening there was a lecture in connection with the Pitt League, and -it was rumoured that Colonel Westcott was going to speak. And Colonel -Westcott’s speeches were such that no one would willingly miss. He had -always ready some new panacea, some fresh catchword. As long as he -remained passive he was infinitely entertaining. - -“We must go to this,” said Evans, and with some alarm I noticed that of -the five other members of our mess, four were preparing to move seating -accommodation. - -“That’s all very jolly,” I said, “but who’s going to cook the dinner?” - -The answer came back with a startling unanimity. - -“You.” - -“But look here,” I began to protest, “you know what I am at these -things. I’ve never cooked a dinner before.” - -“Time you began then.” - -And I was left standing before an empty stove. There remained only one -other member of our mess, my friend Barron, who spent the greater part -of his day asleep. I woke him up. - -“Barron,” I said, “we’ve got to cook the dinner.” - -He blinked up through sleep-laden eyes. - -“But, my dear Alec....” - -“It’s no good,” I said sternly. “If we want anything to eat, and I most -certainly do, we’ve got to cook it ourselves.” - -Slowly Barron rose from his seat. - -“Well,” he said, “what have you got?” - -“There’s a tin of bully, some beans, half a Maconochie, we can make a -stew of that.” - -The stew was the work of a second. We mixed it all up with water, -scattered some salt on the top, and left it to boil. - -“And now the pudding,” I said. - -This proved a more difficult matter. There was no rice left, and we had -used the last of the Turban packets. - -“Archie,” I said, “we’ll have to invent one.” - -For five minutes we argued about the ingredients. Hodges wanted to give -it a fish-flavour by adding a tin of salmon and shrimp paste. - -“There’s been no taste to the beastly thing for the last six days,” he -protested. “It might just as well taste of that as nothing.” - -Finally, however, we decided on what we euphemistically dubbed a -chocolate _soufflé_. First of all we spread a handkerchief flat on the -table, and sprinkled over it a little cornflour. We then took a packet -of cocoa. - -“How much shall I upset?” I asked. - -We read the directions on the outside, but on the subject of chocolate -_soufflés_ the manufacturers were sadly reticent. So as there was no -clear guide, we used the entire packet. - -The mixture now seemed to demand some moisture, so we poured a little -warm water on it, and tried to knead it into a dough. But it did not -work: a brown paste adhered to our fingers; nothing more. - -“It won’t bind,” said Barron. “We must put some butter with it.” - -“We’ve got no butter.” - -“Oh, well, then, try some beef-dripping.” - -So the next ingredient was half a tin of dripping, and as regards -appearances it certainly had excellent results. A few minutes’ hard -kneading produced an admirable dough. But when we sucked our fingers -afterwards, the flavour was anything but that of chocolate. It had a -thick and greasy taste. - -“Alec,” said Hodges, “this dripping’s ruined it.” - -“Your idea,” I said cheerfully. - -For a moment he looked fierce, then returned to the matter in hand. - -“Something’s got to be done,” he said; “we’ve got to swamp that dripping -somehow.” - -“What about some treacle?” I hazarded. “We drew some this afternoon.” - -And within a minute the bulk of our pudding was further increased by an -entire tin of treacle, and whatever its taste after that, it was -certainly not of dripping. - -“That’s about enough, isn’t it?” I said. - -“Well, you know,” said Archie thoughtfully, “I don’t really think it -would be harmed by some salmon and shrimp. After all, it would help to -counterbalance the dripping.” - -But already I had begun to wrap the handkerchief round the brown sticky -ball. When it was firmly incased and knotted, we lowered it into a small -saucepan, put it on the oven, and waited for the wanderers’ return. - -They came back as usual with a great clatter of feet, expressing their -hunger in the most forcible terms. - -“Hellish hungry,” shouted Evans, “and the dinner’s bound to be awful if -Waugh’s cooked it.” - -“You wait,” I said, and plumped the stew down before him. This dish, -probably because it had cooked itself, was quite eatable; and there was -so much of it that in the earlier days it would have formed a meal of -generous proportions. And by the time we had finished it, none of us -felt in the mood for any more solid fare. Something delicate and -appetising would have been delightful, a _pêche melba_ perhaps, but suet -... no. And of course this rather militated against the success of the -chocolate _soufflé_. - -And to begin with, it was a little burnt. There was a large hole in the -encircling handkerchief, and the bottom of the pudding was black. -Considering the bulk of the pudding, this had really very little effect; -but it prejudiced the others, and the artist has to be so tactful with -his public. - -And then the pudding itself. Well, if we had not had the stew first, I -am sure we should have all enjoyed it; but coming as it did on the top -of a heavy dinner, even Barron and myself were hard driven to finish -it. And it was only self-respect that made us. The others took a -spoonful or two and desisted. Barron and I struggled manfully to the -end, and were then conscious of four steely pairs of eyes. Evans, who -acted as a sort of mess president, was the first to speak. - -“What did you two use to make this pudding?” - -“Oh, nothing much,” I said, in an offhand way; “a little cocoa, a little -treacle, a little cornflour.” Somehow I felt I could not confess to the -dripping. - -“But how much did you use?” - -Barron must be a braver man than I am, or it may have been he was still -feeling a little sore because the salmon paste had not been included; at -any rate he went straight to the point. - -“A tin of each.” - -There was a general consternation. That a whole tin of treacle, half a -tin of dripping, a complete packet of cocoa, had all gone to a pudding -that only a third of the mess had been able to eat at all ... it was -unbelievable, a gross case of misplaced trust, perfidy could go no -further. - -Barron and myself were not popular that evening. But our peccadilloes -bore fruit later. That chocolate _soufflé_ served the purpose of a -climax. From that day onward it was implicitly understood that no cook -should invent recipes for puddings. - - -§ 2 - -With the regular arrival of parcels, and the consequent immunity from -hunger, our life settled down into that ordered calm which would have -been the constant level of our routine as long as the war lasted. And it -was here that captivity weighed most heavily. - -Before, our routine had always been to a certain extent progressive. We -had been a new camp, we had had to form societies and committees. We had -a library to build up, and there was always the parcel list to add its -daily incentive to enthusiasm. But there came a time, when all these -wishes either for books or food were satisfied, and when the individual -had to depend for amusement solely on his own resources. Here was the -real trial of captivity. - -Since my return several people have said to me, “It must have been -beastly living among the Huns.” But that was an infliction that it -required little fortitude to bear. The Huns never worried us, unless we -worried them. We could have exactly as much intercourse with them as we -wanted, and there was no need to have anything to do with them at all. -But there was no escape from the continual presence of five hundred -British officers, and the continual conversation of the ten other -members of the room. For not one moment was it possible to be alone. And -as the evenings grew darker, the doors of the blocks were closed -earlier; and by October we found ourselves shut in at six o’clock, with -the prospect of a long evening in the room. - -Those evenings were simply appalling. We all got on each other’s nerves -horribly; as individuals we liked each other well enough; but it was no -joke to be in the constant company of the same people, to hear the same -anecdotes, the same opinions; and, owing to the limited area of common -interests, talk always centred on the war. And there is no subject more -wearisomely distasteful. By the end of six months’ imprisonment nearly -every one had got utterly fed up with his room and the inmates of it. -Smith would meet Brown outside the _Kantine_, and a conversation of this -sort would take place. - -“My Lord, Brown, but my room is the absolute limit, it drives me nearly -wild.” - -“But, my dear man, you’ve got some topping fellows in there, there’s -Jones and Hawkins and May.” - -“I dare say, but you try living with them for a bit. You wouldn’t talk -like that then.” - -“Oh, well,” Brown would say, “you haven’t got much to grumble at; if you -were in my room, now....” - -“But your room, Brown; why, there are some tophole men there....” - -And so the world went round. For indeed, however patient one is, it is -impossible to live in the same room as ten other men, to eat there and -sleep there, to spend half the day in their company, and not get nervy. -Before long we had reached that state when we quarrelled over the most -trifling things--about the dinner, whether we should have bully beef or -a veal loaf. The slightest inconvenience awoke resentment. All the -domestic details that cause friction in the married home were with us -intensified a hundredfold, because there was with us none of the real -and selfless affection which alone can bridge over these difficulties. -Things had reached a sorry state by the time we had left; there was -hardly a single officer who had a good word to say about his room. What -we should have been like after another year I dread to imagine. - -As it was, it was bad enough. For myself I never stayed in the room one -moment more than I could help. And often in the evenings after the -doors had been shut, I used to walk up and down the cold stone corridor -with Barron; we would do anything to get away from the room. It was the -only way to preserve our balance. - -And here in its psychological aspect lies, I think, the true meaning of -captivity; for in the bare recital of incidents there must be always a -savour of the soulless. The conditions of life are only really important -in as far as they form a framework for personality. It is the individual -that counts, and the real meaning of eight months’ imprisonment does not -lie in their political or sociological aspect, but in the effect that -they have on character. For each person they had a different message, -each person was touched in a different way. Probably through the mind of -each individual flitted the same recurring moods, modified and altered -by the demands of each particular temperament, but still the moods were -the same fingers playing upon different strings. - -And for me, at any rate, the mood that recurred most frequently was one -of a grey depression, mixed with a profound sense of the futility of -human effort. Confinement inspires morbidity very quickly, and some of -us used to take an almost savage delight in wrenching down the few frail -bulwarks of an ultimate belief. From certain quotations we derived an -exultant satisfaction. - - “Pleasure of life what is’t? the good hours of an ague.” - -We used to croon the words over to ourselves and endeavour to arrive at -some stoic standpoint from which we could completely objectify ourselves -and our ambitions. - -The wearisome sameness of the days, the monotony of the faces, the -unchanged landscape, the intolerable talk about the war, all these -tended to produce an effect of complete and utter depression. This was -far and away our worst enemy: whole days were drenched in an incurable -melancholia. The continual presence of sentries and barbed wire flung -before us a perpetual symbol of the intelligence fettered by the values -of the phenomenal world. Life resolved itself into a picture of eternal -serfdom: sometimes the body was enslaved, sometimes the mind, but there -was always some bar to Freedom. It was all so much “heaving at a -moveless latch.” Purposeless and irrevocable. - -It is easy enough to laugh at it all now. But then it was a very real -trial. Those doubts and uncertainties, which at some time or another -assail all men, and with a great many form a silent background or -framework for the events of their mournful odyssey, were with us -continually present; and however gloomy a view one may take of the -universe, one wishes to be able to escape from it at times. And the only -remedy was work. - -Indeed confinement must have been a very real ordeal to those whose -temperaments were not self-sufficient, and who depended on the outside -world for their amusements and distractions. It has been said times -without number that the dreamer loses half the pleasure of life, and -that he lies bound up by his own fantasies and wayward creations: that -he has no eyes for what Pater has called “the continual stir and motion -of a comely human life.” Well, Pater wrote that of Attic culture, of the -light-hearted world that is reflected in the pages of the _Lysis_, and -perhaps modern life presents none too comely an aspect. Certainly in -place of “stir and motion” we have bustle and excitement, a clumsy -fumbling after sensation. Perhaps the dreamer has not lost so very much, -and he does at any rate carry his own world with him: he is -self-sufficient; within the sure citadel of his own soul he can always -find those pleasures which alone have any claim to permanence. Flaubert -is always the same, behind barbed wire as in the shadow of a Wessex -garden: the change of environment makes no difference there. - -But on those who preferred action to contemplation, prison life bore -very heavily, and there was something rather pathetic in the various -attempts that were made to fight against the growth of listlessness and -apathy. To begin with, of course, every one entered his name on the roll -of the Future Career Society; no one took less than three classes; there -was a general rush to attain knowledge which lasted about three weeks. - -After that, life resolved itself for a great many into a laborious -effort to kill time, and here the Germans showed their commercial -instincts. The _Kantine_ authorities catered for this hunger for -novelty, and from sure knowledge of the depression of markets gauged the -exact moment when each particular craze would begin to ebb. - -The first hobby was wood-carving, an affair so hazardous that the first -day numbered about ten per cent. casualties. It demanded enormous -delicacy. Boxes of all descriptions were on sale, on which were traced -patterns of labyrinthic intricacy; one could cut photo frames, cigar -boxes, paper cutters, and to accomplish this labour there were provided -small knives of a razor-like sharpness, which under the influence of -the least overweight of pressure flew off the box at an alarming angle, -to bury themselves in the palm of the other hand. It required enormous -patience, and to me appeared one of the most monotonous occupations. It -took hours of work to complete the smallest job. - -This, of course, was not at all what the _Kantine Wallahs_ desired. They -wanted a hobby which would require a lot of material and very little -time. Wood-carving took much too long, and the profits arrived much too -slowly, and so they accelerated the slump in wood-carving by the -innovation of satin-tasso, which was in every way a far more noble -craft. - -To begin with, it gave the personality of the artist a fuller freedom. -In wood-carving individual preference was hopelessly bound down by the -laws of pattern. As in the cast of certain modern painters who having -once conceived a “stunt,” proceed to pour the most unlikely moods into -one artistic mould, the individual was a slave to shapes. Against this, -liberty was driven to revolt, and satin-tasso provided the necessary -outlet. - -Even here, of course, there were, it is true, laws and patterns, but -there was full scope for the peculiarities of taste. The satin-tasso box -had on it simply the bare outline of a picture. This one cut round with -a sharp knife, and then proceeded to colour in with special paints; and -in the employment of these paints any extravagance was permitted. -Mediæval costumes offered superb opportunities for splendour and pagan -gold. Across a pearl-flecked sky emerald clouds could fade into a wash -of scarlet. It was truly a noble craft, and the whole business only took -a few hours, which was most advantageous both for the suppliers and the -supplied. - -There is nothing that pleases the craftsman more than the sight of a -finished article, and there is nothing that gives more pleasure to the -tradesman than the swift return of gigantic profits, and both these -wishes were granted. The _Kantine_ did a roaring trade in satin-tasso, -and the portmanteaus of the artisan grew heavy with trophies and -souvenirs. - -But all the same it was rather a pathetic sight to see a man of about -twenty-eight, in the prime of life, sitting down every afternoon and -evening, fiddling about with a piece of wood and a box of paints. He -derived no pleasure from it: it merely served the purpose of a narcotic. -As long as his hands were employed his brain would go to sleep, and he -need no longer see the tedious procession of days that lay before him. -He was symbolic in a way of the Public School Education that -deliberately starves a boy’s intellect for the sake of his body. The -type of clean-limbed Britisher, that Public Schools produce, is all very -well in its way, and is infinitely preferable to the type produced by -any other system, either in England or France. Of that there can be no -doubt whatsoever. But the schoolmasters who adopt this line of argument, -forget that they are dealing with a material refined upon by the -breeding of centuries. The question is not, “Is the material good?” -because it is. The question is, “Does Education make the best of this -material?” and I am very certain that it does not. Every man should have -sufficient part in the intellectual interests of life, to be able to -keep his intelligence active for eight months in surroundings that -provide no physical outlets. For after all, it is the mind, or, to use -Pater’s phrase, “the imaginative reason” that counts. - - “Thank God that while the nerves decay - And muscles desiccate away, - The brain’s the hardiest part of men - And thrives till threescore years and ten.” - -And it is surely a severe condemnation of any system that its average -products can derive no sustenance from the contemplative side of life, -that the moment they are out of the theatres, they have absolutely no -resources left. It would have given me the most acute satisfaction to -have been able to escort there some of the many schoolmasters who so -fiercely defended themselves behind the legend, “By our works ye shall -judge us,” which was exactly what I tried to do. - -The narrow limits of our captivity provided us with only one other -craze, the last and the most decadent, for which reason, probably, it -was the only one to which I succumbed--Manicure. It was really a -tempting lure. One evening I went to the _Kantine_ to buy a pencil, and -saw a row of beautiful plush boxes, in which reposed long-handled files, -and scissors, and knives; and beside these were bottles of delicate -scents and polishes and powders, strangely reminiscent of Amiens. The -lure was too great, and forty marks went west. - -From that day onwards our room was a sort of general manicuring saloon. -Several of us bought sets, and from 8 p.m. to 10 p.m. we received -visitors. As our guests received treatment gratis, and the initial -outlay towards the opening of the saloon was sufficiently generous, it -might have been thought that our guests came out of the transaction -rather well. But they paid richly for their adornment in pain. We were -all amateurs, and the manipulation of a pair of curved scissors requires -feminine skill; no one has ever yet called me neat-fingered, and those -scissors were very sharp. During the operations of our first fortnight, -of all those who came to us with gay step, there were few who went away -without at least one finger swathed in bandages. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -HOW WE DID NOT ESCAPE - - -§ 1 - -As military regulations state that it is the duty of every prisoner of -war to make immediate and strenuous effort to escape, and as every man -is at heart an adventurer, it is not surprising that our languid -community was from time to time regaled by the rumours of impending -sorties. - -No one has ever yet managed to escape from Mainz, and even if the war -had lasted for another twenty years, I believe it would have retained -its impregnability. For the citadel had been constructed so as to resist -the old-fashioned frontal assault, in which infantry without the aid of -a barrage endeavoured to demolish vertical walls. Round the buildings -ran stone battlements usually fifty feet high. At any point where it -would be possible to jump down was stationed a sentry, and between these -battlements and the buildings were two distinct chains of wire netting, -that were continually patrolled. At an early date I decided that, in my -personal case, the possible chances of escape in no way counteracted the -enormous inconvenience to which an attempt would inevitably put me. And -if I did get away, it would result in the probable loss of the greater -part of my library, and of all my MSS. All things considered, it hardly -seemed worth while. - -But for other and more daring spirits personal inconvenience was a thing -of trifling importance. They would talk of their duty, of their hatred -of the Hun, of their desire to be in the thick of things again. But the -chief allurement was the love of _réclame_: every man is at heart a -novelist; and they would picture to themselves the days of “What did you -do in the great war, Daddy?” and the proud answer, “I escaped from -Mainz,” and there was also the glory of standing in the centre of the -stage. They liked to be talked about in undertones, to hear a whisper of -“Don’t tell any one, but that fellow’s going to try and beat it -to-morrow.” They hankered after excitement, and in consequence when -their schemes began to ripen to maturity, they enveloped their actions -in all the theatrical paraphernalia of Arsène Lupin. It was wonderful -what they made themselves believe. Spies were lurking everywhere, and in -consequence their every action had to be most carefully concealed. One -officer, who thought he was being hoodwinked, disguised himself by -shaving off his moustache, and wearing a cap all day to hide the -thinness of his hair. Of course to those who really took the business -seriously every credit is due. They spent hours preparing maps, and -ropes, and many marks in bribing sentries. But to the majority an escape -consisted chiefly in a bid not for liberty but for fame. For it was only -with the most deep and carefully laid plans that any one could have -hoped to get away. - -It is unnecessary to say that in the machinery of these enthusiasms our -old friend Colonel Westcott played his heroic part. When he amalgamated -into his Pitt League such existing organisations as the Future Career -Society, he considered that he had taken under his wing all the imperial -activities of the camp; and so one branch, and a very select branch, of -his scheme included those desirous of freedom. It was quite a harmless -affair, this little society, and in no way jeopardised the chances of -escape. All that the Colonel wanted was to feel that he had a share in -every sphere of the life of which he was the central embodiment. He -liked to have these young fellows sitting round him discussing their -plans; he liked to be able to drop here and there the necessary words of -advice; it was an understood thing that no one was to attempt to escape -without first submitting his ideas to the Colonel; and within a brief -time this amiable gentleman had led himself to believe that he was the -fount from which all these alarums and excursions flowed. - -The first attempt did not take place till we had been prisoners a little -over four months, but its preliminaries began a good deal earlier. One -of the accomplices was in the same room as myself, and for weeks he used -to carry about with him an air of mystery. In a far corner of the room -he would be observed tracing maps of the various roads to the frontier, -and from time to time he would take me quietly aside. - -“Don’t tell any one,” he said, “but I’m going to clear soon, and I’m -getting the maps. I tell you, of course, because--oh, well, you’re in my -room, and all that. But keep it dark.” - -He spoke like that to nearly all of his acquaintances. It is all very -well to talk of breaking laws just for the fun of the thing, but one -does want the rest of the world to know what a devil of a fellow one -is. - -I remember one Sunday afternoon, at school, how I cut the cord of the -weight on the chapel organ, with the result that that evening the music -suddenly stopped and the choir wrecked. It was a noble piece of work, -which I surveyed with a justifiable pride. But I was not really -satisfied till I had told the whole house about it; naturally, of -course, swearing each individual to secrecy. - -“Don’t tell a soul, of course, old man. I should get in a hell of a row -if it was found out.” - -_Suave, mari magno_.... When one is perfectly safe, it is delightful to -imagine all the punishments that might have been visited on one, if the -Fates had been less kind; we always hunger for sensation; from the -security of a warm fire the imagination gloats over the ardours of -warfare and the splendours and agonies of adventure. We like to feel -that danger overhangs us; we shiver with apprehensive delight beneath -the sword of Damocles. We like to be told that there will be a social -upheaval within our lifetime. Perhaps it will come in five years’ time. -Perhaps to-morrow. At any rate, to-day we are secure. And it was in this -spirit that the glamorous web was woven round that first escape. - -The efforts that were made to avoid suspicion were superb. The -conspirators felt that anything might give away their secret. Had not -Sergeant Cuff found at one end of a chain of evidence a murderer and at -the other a spot of ink on a green baize tablecloth? and so they left -nothing to chance. A loose board beneath the stove served as an -admirable hiding-place for maps and plans. And in consequence our room -was used as a sort of general dump. - -It was a great nuisance; they would do the mystery stunt so very -thoroughly; and it was such a noisy business. To open their underground -cupboard a few nails had to be abstracted, and a few wedges applied. The -resultant noise would have woken not the least suspicion in even the -most distrustful Teuton, and would have played a very insignificant -part amid all the accumulated turmoil of the day. But no risks must be -run. And so while the cupboard was being prized open, an operation that -would sometimes take over ten minutes, one of us had to be detailed to -go outside and break up wood so as to disguise the noise. It was a -deafening business, that occurred two or three times each week; and it -did not seem as if the contents of this cupboard demanded such strict -secrecy. I once asked what they kept there. - -“Only a few papers,” was the answer, “a compass and provisions for the -journey.” - -That a compass, being contraband, should be carefully concealed, I could -well understand. But the papers consisted of a field officer’s diary and -a few maps abstracted from the backs of a German Grammar; while the bag -of provisions contained only those delicacies that we received in -parcels, of which chocolate formed the greater part. And a more -unhealthy place to store it, it would be hard to find. - -“Look here,” I said one day, “what’s the idea of keeping that chocolate -there?” - -“To escape with, of course. Splendid stuff for giving staying power.” - -“But why can’t the fellow keep it in his room?” - -I was immediately fixed with that sort of look that seems to say, “Good -Lord, do such fools really exist!” - -“My good man,” he said, “how could he keep it there? It would give the -whole show away at once. What would you think, if you were a German -officer, and found a big store of chocolate in one of the cupboards? -What would you think of it?” - -There was only one answer to that. - -“That the ass didn’t like it, I suppose.” - -But my remonstrance was useless, and soon I began to regard these noises -and secrecies as part of the inevitable machinery of prison life. - - -§ 2 - -The first attempt savoured, it must be confessed, very strongly of the -ludicrous. The protagonists were three colonels who had managed to -provide themselves with German money and with suits of civilian clothes, -made, so it was reported, out of dishcloths. They chose as their -headquarters a room situated directly above the main gate. It was a drop -of some forty feet to the ground, and a sentry box was stationed -immediately underneath. The chances of getting away were in consequence -very small, but there was, at any rate, no need for preliminary -manœuvres among the meshes of wire netting. The gallant adventurers -relied solely on the somnolence of the sentry. It was a cold, rainy -night, and their experience of guards at depôts might well have led them -to expect a certain lack of enterprise and enthusiasm on the part of -their warder. Nor were they disappointed. - -It began to rain heavily, and after a few deprecatory glances at the -heavens, the sentry sat down in his box, and within a few moments -appeared to be unconscious of the external world. From the window of -Block I a rope made out of a blanket was immediately lowered, and the -colonel began his precarious descent. - -And then the rain stopped. - -The sentry, roused apparently by the sudden cessation of sound, blinked, -rubbed his eyes, and cast them heavenwards, and saw midway between earth -and sky a figure swinging from a rope. Well, he must have been something -of a philosopher, that sentry: he was in no way perturbed by the -apparition. He rose languidly to his feet, blew his whistle to summon -the guard, and waited patiently at the foot of the rope. - -It must have been a very amusing spectacle. Very slowly and very -gingerly, hand under hand the colonel descended, and when he was within -reaching distance the sentry helped him very gently to the ground and -escorted him to the guardroom. The other - -[Illustration: A GALLANT ATTEMPT TO ESCAPE. - -[_To face page 162._ -] - -conspirators, seeing the fate of their chief, hastened bedwards with all -possible speed, and when the orderly officer came round they imitated -with considerable ability the righteous indignation of a man who is -woken up after a three hours’ sleep. - -This attempt was the signal for frequent and repeated excursions. The -lead once given, there were found many ready to follow it; and there was -considerable comfort in the assurance that the sentries had orders not -to fire unless they were charged. And so for the remainder of our -captivity the camp buzzed with rumours. - -No one ever got away. Occasionally the first strand of netting was -penetrated, but nothing more; and it must have been a poor form of -amusement. For the desperadoes always chose a night of rain and wind in -the hope that the sentries might have sought consolation within their -huts, and it can have been no fun crawling on one’s stomach, over sodden -gravel, getting soaked and cold; and as the night of capture was always -spent in the guardroom, it was a sport that can have held out few -inducements. - -For the cowardly, however, it did add a spice and flavour to existence. -On these nights of danger we used to lie awake patiently listening. The -hours would drift by. Twelve o’clock, one o’clock, it looked as if they -had got away after all; and then, sure enough, would come the alarm, two -whistles would shriek loud above the drip of the rain, there would be a -scurry of feet; and then a few minutes later we would see the -unfortunate beings escorted to the cells.... We would do all we could -for them; we would clamber on to the window sill and would shout our -condolences; and these friendly wishes would on the next day as likely -as not serve as an excuse for the General to place upon us some further -restriction, as punishment for what he considered an unmannerly -exhibition of independence. - -Of these bold bids for freedom none stood any very real chance of -success, and towards the end they became somewhat discredited, as they -involved certain inconveniences on those who had resigned themselves to -their fate. There would be additional roll-calls, and precautions. Whole -rooms were searched and ransacked, a most disagreeable proceeding. And -on one occasion the attempt was made from the theatre, which led to the -closing of that hall of pleasure during an entire morning while the -complete staging apparatus was overhauled, and examined. This caused -genuine annoyance, especially as the ravages of the soldiery delayed for -three days a performance that had been the centre of much curiosity and -conjecture. And this annoyance became almost indignation, when it -transpired that this herald of defiance had provisioned himself for his -long journey with nothing more substantial than a tin of skipper -sardines, two oxo cubes, and a tin of mustard. The general opinion was -that if a man was “such a damned fool as to carry that sort of stuff -about with him, he had no right to try to escape, upsetting arrangements -and all.” - -And on this type of sally the theatre incident rang down the curtain. -But under this category it is impossible to number the attempts of -Colonel Wright. His methods were very different; they were not showy; he -did not talk about what he was going to do. And as a result he very -nearly succeeded. - -The chief ingenuity of the Scarlet Pimpernel lay, as far as I can -remember, in his grasp of the fact that it is the obvious that evades -suspicion. Sentries are on the lookout for an escape by night, but by -day they are off their guard. And working on this plan, both Colonel -Wright’s attempts were made by daylight. Indeed they were both so simple -that in cold blood they looked quite ridiculous. The first attempt -failed completely, and but for his later achievement, one might have -been tempted to wonder how the gallant colonel could have expected any -different result. - -Alone of the Pitt Escape League he literally did not progress a yard; -not one foot did he advance. In broad daylight he was arrested where he -stood, or rather, where he sat, for it was in that position that he was -discovered. - -The plan was not elaborate. Once a week a cart from the laundry came to -collect dirty linen from the camp and take it away to be cleaned. And to -keep a check on the returns, a British orderly always went with it. -Colonel Wright’s scheme was to impersonate the orderly, to get himself -conducted safely outside the gates, and once there to rely on his own -speed and ingenuity to effect an escape. It might have come off; there -was an outside chance, remote certainly, but still a chance; however, he -was given no opportunity of gauging his share of the two requisite -abilities. It is true he got into the cart and sat quietly in a far -corner; but before even the harness had begun to jingle, he had been -recognised and arrested. A grey business, but he was in no wise daunted. -And within a few weeks he had his hand to the wheel again. - -His second scheme was considerably more elaborate, but was none the -less sufficiently obvious. Zero hour was fixed for half-past five, and -at five o’clock in a far corner of the square preparations were begun -for a boxing match. Towels and chairs were set out, sponges and bowls of -water appeared, and two brawny Scotsmen shivered in greatcoats. There -had been no previous notice of this engagement, but interest was -speedily kindled, and within a quarter of an hour quite a large crowd -had assembled. The close of the opening round was the signal for a -marked display of enthusiasm. And it was in the middle of the second -round that Colonel Wright made his dash. No one noticed him. The -sentries were absorbed in the boxing, and those whose attentions showed -signs of wandering were engaged in conversation by two field officers -who could speak German. And Colonel Wright, clad in a suit of civilian -clothes, cut through the wire netting of the first entanglement, and -dashed across the open. In a few seconds he had swarmed over the second -series and was out of sight. It was a most daring and brilliant piece -of work. All that remained for him now was to lie till nightfall in the -shadow of the wall. Then when it was dark he could choose an auspicious -moment and lower himself to the ground. - -It was a plan that certainly deserved success, and as the hours passed -we began to hope that some one had at last got clean away. There was -some anxiety lest his absence should be spotted at roll-call, but when -nine o’clock came and went, we felt that all was well. And then just -before ten o’clock the two whistle blasts rang out. Colonel Wright had -been retaken. - -And if the story that we heard afterwards is true, chance was -outrageously unkind. He had waited till it was quite dark, and had -carefully watched for the moment when the beat of the outside sentry -carried his warders out of earshot. He had then lowered himself from the -wall; and it was here that his luck deserted him. For a couple of lovers -had selected that particular part of the battlements as a shelter for -their amorous dalliance. And the point at which Colonel Wright would -have landed was removed from them by scarcely a dozen yards. He was -instantly detected. Yet, with a very little luck, things might still -have turned out favourably; for the man, who seemed sufficiently -intrigued with his partner, gave him only a cursory glance and returned -to the matter in hand; but the woman, with an eye to advertisement, -characteristic of her sex, gave expression to her feelings in a series -of piercing shrieks. Colonel Wright was instantly arrested. - -The sentries found on him a hundred marks of German money, and a railway -ticket to Frankfurt. And if he could only have got clear of the camp, I -believe he would have had little difficulty in getting to the frontier. -For he spoke German excellently and had friends in that part of the -country. He had also the nerve and ingenuity which alone could have -rendered such a feat possible. This the authorities must have realised; -for a few days later he was moved to another camp. What he did there, we -do not know. But rumour has it that on the journey he made three more -attempts to break away. And doubtless in a camp with fewer natural -defences he would sooner or later have succeeded in outwitting his -captors. - -But as regards Mainz the gloomy record of its impregnability still -stands. At one time or another it has been the temporary home of -Russians, French and English; all three have in their turn tried to -escape, and all have failed. After four years of warfare Mainz is still -the inviolable citadel. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -THE ALCOVE - - -Each week the Pitt League posted up on the walls of the theatre a notice -of the times and places of the various classes that were to be held. -There were some six rooms at the disposal of this enterprising society. -There was the attic at the top of Block I, a noisy room because the -dramatic society would probably be found rehearsing next door; then -there was the theatre, an impossible room; in the first place because it -was too big, and in the second because the scenic artists behind the -curtain carried on a continual dialogue to the tune of: “Where is that -blue paint?” “Have you put up the wings?” “Where the hell’s the hammer?” -which dialogue the scene-shifters accompanied with suitable crashes and -landslides. It was a poor room for study--the - -[Illustration: THE BILLIARD ROOM AT MAINZ. - -[_To face page 172._ -] - -theatre; and then there was the field officers’ dining-room--that was -not too bad. But one window-pane was missing, and there was no heating -apparatus, and the orderlies were always wanting to lay the plates; -altogether there was not a superfluity of spare space; there was really -only one decent room--the Alcove--and that was for one hour of the day -allotted to the botanists and anatomists. For the rest of the time an -agenda at the bottom of the Pitt League poster announced that “the -Alcove was reserved for authors, architects and other students.” - -The Alcove was a small room opening out of the billiard-room, and its -possession by the “authors, architects and other students” was a -privilege jealously guarded. Not that we ever resorted to force, the -mere strength of personality was sufficient. A few acid epigrams drove -the intruders away with the impression that after all there were -lunatics in the camp. Only one man stayed for more than an hour, and -that was Captain Frobisher, a large, fat man who was doubtless an -excellent soldier, but who was not an addition to a literary society -that prided itself upon its exclusiveness. After all, when one is -searching for a lost rhyme, or trying to make an honest scene -sufficiently obscure to protect Canon Lyttelton’s delicate -susceptibilities, it is disconcerting to have to listen to a -conversation of this sort:-- - -“ ... And what do you think of the new offensive, Skipper?” - -“Oh, we’ll wipe the swine off the face of the earth. I hope our men -don’t take too many prisoners. There’s only one sort of Hun that’s any -use, and that’s a dead one. Excreta, that’s all they are, excreta.... -What I say is, smash ’em, and then when they’re down tread on ’em. -That’s all they’re fit for. A good Hun is a dead Hun.” - -Of course such rhetoric is excellent in its place, and in the mouth of a -politician would appear as the supreme unction shed over the warring -banners of humanity. But there are times.... - -Frobisher must go. We all decided that. The only difficulty was that ... -well, even in confinement one must show respect to a senior officer. It -would have to be done with considerable tact; we could hardly approach -him ourselves. We supposed that if he really wanted, he could defend -himself on the ground that he was a student, a student of the -philosophical interpretation of a dozen cocktails. But yet he had to go. -And finally Stone undertook the job. - -It took two bottles of Rhine wine to screw him up to the proper pitch, -but we got him there at last; and nobly did he fulfil our trust. It was -an unforgettable afternoon. Captain Frobisher was sitting at the middle -table discussing over a bottle of wine his schemes for the entire -destruction of the German race. The old saws were rolling smoothly from -his tongue. - -“We must let them have it; what I say is, starve them out, bomb their -towns, confiscate their colonies; then make them pay right up to the -hilt, a crushing indemnity. They’d have done the same to us. An eye for -an eye. That’s the principle we must work on, a tooth for a tooth.” Even -a patriotic bishop could not have been more humanely vindictive. - -And then we led in Stone. - -He sat on the edge of the table nearest to the captain; his huge head of -hair was flung back in a wild profusion, his shirt was open at the -throat, he looked for all the world like a second Byron. And for the -space of an hour he lectured on the higher life. As a testimony to the -potency of the Rhine vintage, it was without parallel. It was a noble -exposition. - -He began with Schopenhauer; the jargon of metaphysics reeled into -anacolutha: the absolute, the negation of the will; the thing in itself; -phenomena, and the real. The mind was dazed with the conflicting -theories of causation, and after each sounding peroration he recited in -a crooning monotone the less cheerful musings of the Shropshire Lad; -while we, entering into his mood, gazed up at him with enraptured eyes, -murmuring: “Delightful! Oh, delightful!” - -Captain Frobisher fidgeted nervously on his form, he moved first to one -extremity, then to another. Periodically he attempted a conversation -with his companion; but every time he began, Stone broke into a state of -fervour more than usually impassioned, and Frobisher’s attention was -irresistibly drawn towards this strange creature who had emerged -suddenly out of a world he did not know. Stone realised his traditional -conception of the romantic poet, the long-haired, sprawling, -effervescent creature that he had never seen, but that he had been told -the war had killed. And here into the very centre of Mainz, into this -home of militarism, was introduced the loathsome atmosphere of Paris and -the Café Royal, this unpleasant reincarnation of the hectic nineties. - -For an hour he stood it, and then Stone arrived at the point to which -all his previous eloquence had led. “I don’t know,” he said, “I have -thought it out for a long time, but I am still uncertain as to which of -all the collective emotions has done most harm, has wrought most damage -to the suffering individual. Once I thought it was religion, religion -with its bigotry and ritual, its confessional and chains; but during the -last four years I have been sorely tempted--sorely tempted, my dear -Waugh--to believe that of all the evils that can befall a community, -there is none worse than the scourge of Patriotism.” - -It was the limit, beyond which even the endurance of a soldier could not -pass. Captain Frobisher threw at Stone one glance charged with distrust, -and strode from the room. He never entered it again; and the “authors, -architects and other students” were able to return to earth, and become -once more respectable citizens. - -Of the architects and other students we saw very little. Occasionally a -linguist would drift in with a conversation grammar and a notebook, and -sometimes a financier would draw up tables of expenditure and loss, but -on the whole the Alcove was the property of “Wordsmiths.” - -There were about five of us in all, and as soon as _appel_ was over we -used to proceed towards the billiard-room laden with pens and paper. At -this early hour there were usually not more than three of us, as Tarrant -and Stone preferred to take breakfast at a later hour; but Milton Hayes -was invariably to be found there, embellishing lyrics, or putting the -final touches to his musical comedy, and in the intervals of production -expounding his latest æsthetic theories. - -A vivid contrast was presented by Tarrant and Stone. With popular taste -they were both equally unconcerned. Relative merit interested them not -at all; their standards were deep-laid and inelastic. - -Tarrant usually appeared in the Alcove at about one o’clock, and -observed a ritual that would with any one else have savoured of -affectation, but was with him perfectly natural. Nature had endowed him -with generous proportions, more built for comfort than for speed; and he -accentuated the natural roll of his gait by his strange footwear. A pair -of field boots had been abbreviated into shoes by the camp cobbler in -such a way as to admit of the insertion of two fingers between the -leather and the instep. To keep them on his feet as he walked, Tarrant -had to resort to a straddle that was one of the features of camp life. -And as he entered he bulked largely in the door of the Alcove, -marvellously shod, carrying under one arm a dictionary, a notebook and a -Thesaurus, and over the other a cardigan waistcoat and a green velvet -scarf. - -He flung his books noisily on the table and then proceeded to array -himself for the ardours of composition. He first of all divested himself -of his collar and tie, and wrapped round his throat the green velvet -scarf, that would have lain more appropriately as a stole on the -shoulders of an ecclesiastic than it did as a muffler on those of a -_Gefangener_, engaged on a psychological study of seduction. Tarrant -then removed his tunic, disclosing a woollen waistcoat, over which he -proceeded to draw the second woollen coat that he had brought with him. -He explained that they brought him physical ease. - -“You see, old man,” he said, “it’s not much use my mind being free, if -my limbs are encased in even the loosest of military tunics.” - -He then proceeded to work. - -Every writer, of course, has his own particular foible, and Tarrant’s -was an appalling accuracy in gauging the exact number of words that he -had written. Most writers are quite content to add up the number of -lines in a page, then find the average number of words in a line and -multiply. But Tarrant would have none of these slipshod methods. - -“On that principle,” he said, “I suppose you’d call a line a line -whether it goes right across the page or not?” - -“Yes,” I confessed. - -He gave a grunt of contempt. - -“And then you say _The Loom of Youth_ is 110,000 words long; why, half -the lines you call ten words long only consist of two words--‘Bloody -Hell.’ That’s not the way to do things.” - -And so Tarrant laboriously added up every word. It became quite a mania -with him. So much so, in fact, that he used to embark on long -discussions as to the derivation of amalgamated words, and whether -“lunch-time” should count as two or one. For his rough draft he kept -beside him a small slip of paper, on which at the end of each sentence -he used to make mathematical calculations, that reminded me of school -cricket, the scoring box, and the attempt to keep level with the tens. - -Correction involved much labour. At the end of the sentence he might -have noted down 277 words. Then he would revise; half a clause -consisting of eight words would be omitted, and on the slip of paper -down went 269. Then a celibate noun called for an adjectival mate, and -270 was hoisted amid applause. It was an amusing game, but it took up a -great deal of time. Very rarely did Tarrant produce more than 400 words -as the result of three hours’ work, and his absolute maximum for a day -was 1100. - -“All great men work slowly,” he said. “Flaubert took seven years over -_Madame Bovary_, and I shall take only a year over this,” and with a -sudden sweep he flashed the discussion back on to his pet subject of -words. - -“You see, I’ve done 48,374 words, and there are three more chapters of -approximately 3000 words each. Now will that be enough?” - -I told him that Mr. Grant Richards had stipulated in one of his weekly -advertisements, that if he liked a book, it could range between the -limits of 45,000 and 200,000 words, and Tarrant once more returned -peacefully to his addition. - - * * * * * - -Stone, Tarrant’s constant companion through the tedium of eighteen -months’ imprisonment, was chiefly conspicuous for his conversation. -Nobody ever actually saw him writing, or had indeed read anything he had -written, but he always carried about with him a notebook, that gave the -impression that he had either just risen from his labours, or was merely -waiting the inspiration of the moment. As a scholar and a critic he was -easily the most brilliant of our little circle, and it was delightful to -hear him dethrone the idols of the twentieth century. He had very little -use for any critic since Pater, or any novelist since Sterne. Of the -modern novelists he maintained that the only two worth considering were -H. H. Richardson and Arnold Bennett, though to Gilbert Cannan he -extended a hand of deprecatory welcome. Wells was the chief target of -his wit. - -“I don’t know what to make of him,” he used to say. “Sometimes I think -we may almost excuse him on the ground that if he had not written the -_New Machiavelli_, _Perkins and Mankind_ would not exist. But, really, -as I read his recent stuff, _Marriage_, _The Soul of a Bishop_, _Joan -and Peter_, why, Max has ceased to be the parodist of Wells, Wells has -become the parodist of Max.” - -As an actual “Wordsmith” Stone enjoyed a reputation something similar to -that of Theodore Watts. One felt that he had only to publish what he had -written, and he would receive world-wide recognition. In the notebook -that never left him, he was supposed to carry the key that should unlock -his heart. There lay two completed poems, and a tenth of a novel. But -they were quite illegible. None of us ever saw them. Occasionally when -the influence of Rhine wine had somewhat weakened the phenomenal barrier -that separated Stone’s mentality from the real world of his metaphysics, -he would promise to inscribe them for us in the morning in the full -indelibility of purple pencil. Once he even went so far as to recite one -of them; but the words came to us droningly sweet through a mist of -inaudibility, and there remains only the recollection of certain -sounding words, a low murmur as of a distant waterfall. In the morning -all the promises were forgotten, and sometimes I have been tempted to -wonder whether those poems had any real existence in the sphere of -phenomena. Stone was so at the mercy of his metaphysics, he indulged in -expeditions into a world whither I had neither the wish nor the ability -to follow him, and perhaps he merely imagined those two poems as some -manifestation of that inexplicable “Thing-in-itself” over which he was -so concerned. Perhaps they had no counterpart in that draggled notebook; -and though it is quite possible that some day we shall see those poems -immortally enshrined in vellum, personally I rather doubt it. - -Those hours in the Alcove contain all I personally would wish to -remember of my captivity. It was a delightful room, with its white -tables and windows opening on the fowl-run; it was a perfect place in -which to write. The click of billiard balls, and the murmurous rise and -fall of inaudible conversations provided the ideal setting for thought. -Personally I can never write in a room that is quite silent; its -isolation frightens me, and through an open window I listen in vain for -the indistinct noises of humanity. - -And then towards evening, when the labours of the day were ended, we -would sit together round a bottle of a villainous brand of -_Laubenheimer_ and discuss the merits of Tchecov and de Maupassant. Long -contests were waged there on the vexed problems of æsthetics; the limits -of dramatic art, _vers libre_, the function of criticism. All these in -their turn passed through the sieve of dialectic. At times even -captivity seemed a pleasant business, so full of leisure was it, after -the bustle of the months that had preceded it. And no doubt years hence, -when the rough outlines have become gently blurred against a harmonious -background, we shall cast a glamour over those lazy days, and see in -them a realisation of Bohemian dreams, of a Paris café and Verlaine -leaning over a white table-cloth declaiming his lovely valedictory -lines. And perhaps Time, that great alchemist, may even go so far as to -transmute that foul white wine into the purest absinthe. We shall think -of Dowson and the Cheshire Cheese, of the Rhymers’ Club and the -delightful artifice of the nineties, and we shall claim companionship -with those brave innovators to whom a finished work of art was a -sufficient recompense for their weariness. But within it was not really -like that; and as Pater has said, no doubt that ideal period of artistic -endeavour has never had any existence outside the imagination of the -dreamer, sick with a sort of far-away nostalgia, a vague longing for -wider prospects and less narrowing horizons. Every generation has flung -its eyes backwards over the past, and thought “if it had only been then -that we had lived--then, when the values of life were still clear and -simple,” and round certain names and ages there has been woven in -consequence the thin gossamer of Romance, and the artist has found -comfort in his conception of a world that has been passed by. From these -backward glances and averted faces has emerged much that will never -pass--Thais and Salambo, Henry Esmond and Marius the Epicurean. - -During the last three years I have often wished that I had been born -thirty years earlier, at a time when the influence of French literature -was making itself so keenly felt, and when Verlaine was the light about -the young men’s feet. It is a glamorous world that we catch glimpses of -through the opening doors of Mr. George Moore’s confessions. But I -suppose that really it would not have been so very wonderful after all, -and that those delicate creatures whose feet moved through Symons’s -verse to a continual rustle of silk and cambric, were probably the most -tawdry of _grisettes_, and those Paris cafés and the many-coloured -glasses of liqueur, they were very much like the Alcove, I expect; and -the Alcove is a place where no one would wish to sojourn indefinitely. - -But we shall always look back at it with some affection. We spent there -many happy hours, and there the weariness of captivity was relieved by -the human comradeship that alone makes life endurable. We shall not -easily forget how, when the billiard-room was closed for the night, we -used to step out into the square, just as the sunset was flooding it -with an amber haze, and walk beneath the chestnuts, prolonging the -conversations of the afternoon, until the cracked bell and waking lights -drove us back to the barracks. I shall never forget those evenings. -Probably never before was the citadel--that home of militarism--the -scene of so much artistic discussion; and it may be that in after days -our ghosts will linger round those memorial places, and that on some -quiet evening two tenuous and ungainly forms will be seen swinging down -the avenue beneath the chestnuts-- - - “Dans le vieux parc solitaire et glacée,” - -and the sentries of some Jäger regiment will catch the sound of thin -voices floating across the night. They will be still arguing over the -same old questions, those two foolish ghosts, those questions whose -solution the rest of the world has long since decided to ignore. - -“But look here now, honestly, surely Brooke is not too bad; listen to -this ...” and the faint words of “Mamua” would be borne over last year’s -leaves. - -But the elder ghost would shake his head; and a thin reedy voice would -pipe-- - -“No, it won’t do, old man, won’t do, only a whispering gallery.” And -they would pass on, still arguing, still differing, and still, -apparently, very good friends. - -And the two German sentries would look at one another sympathetically. - -“Kriegs-gefangeners, Fritz,” one would say, “captured in the great war. -There were a lot of ’em here, and those two, you’ll always see them -walkin’ up and down there talking the most awful rot, all about poetry -and things. Poor fellows! probably a little wrong in the head, they -were, a bit maddish you know; they look a bit that way.” - -And it is not for me to deny it. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -HOW WE AMUSED OURSELVES - - -§ 1 - -In only one province did Colonel Westcott, our genial factotum, place a -voluntary check upon his own activities. His sphere, he decided, was -confined within the elastic boundaries of education, moral conduct and -Pan-Saxon philosophy. And he accepted these limitations with the quiet -resignation of one who owns three-quarters of the globe, and deems the -remainder to be a land of frost and snow. In other hands he laid the -responsibilities of the sports and entertainments committees. And for -this reason, perhaps, they were the two most productive bodies. - -For the average _Gefangener_, however, games were hard to get. Germany -is not athletic in the sense that we are. Militarism has made muscular -development the supreme good of all outdoor exercises, and in -consequence the authorities thought they had sufficiently catered for -our physical propensities by the erection of a horizontal bar, and the -largess of some iron weights. Well, that is hardly our idea of sport; -and as a nation I do not think we shall ever show much enthusiasm for -Swedish drill, P.T., trapezes, and the various devices of a gymnasium, -that leave so little room for individuality. The allegiance to a green -field and a leather ball, small or big as the season demands, will not -be shaken. And at Mainz there were neither green fields nor leather -balls. - -The gravel square was the only open space we had, and it was uncommonly -hard to fall on. There was one football in the camp, belonging to an -orderly, that was from time to time the centre of an exhilarating -display. But it was a dangerous pastime; every game resulted in at least -three injuries, and a scraped elbow was no joke in a country - -[Illustration: OUR PRISON SQUARE. - -[_To face page 194._ -] - -devoid of medicine. Only the very daring played, and soon most of them -were “crocked.” - -For a month hockey enjoyed an ephemeral popularity, and a league was -arranged, in which nearly every room entered a side. While they lasted -those games were great fun, and they were capital exercise. But before -very long all the sticks had been smashed, and all efforts to replace -them were unavailing, and though a few individuals who had had sticks -sent out from England were able to get an occasional game, for the great -mass of us hockey ceased almost as soon as it had begun. - -The only other game was tennis. As there is no rubber in Germany, this -had to be delayed till the late summer, by which time balls and racquets -had arrived from England. But what is one court among six hundred? Only -a very limited section of the camp could play, and those whose abilities -were slight did not feel themselves justified in engaging the court to -the exclusion of their more able brethren. And the whole business -really amounted to this: that although a newcomer to the camp would see -the square at nearly all moments of the day occupied by some game or -other, for the average _Gefangener_ the athletic world did not exist. -His sole form of exercise was the grey constitutional round the square; -and just before the closing of the gates at night, it was as if a living -tube was being moved round within the wire. Five hundred odd officers -were walking in couples round a square, with a circumference of four -hundred yards; words cannot give an impression which can only be caught -in terms of paint. For the populace billiards was the one athletic -outlet. - -And as the two chief resources of the average subaltern are athletics -and the theatre, this suppression of one channel, diverted to the stage -the entire enthusiasm of the camp. Of course each of us thinks his own -little part of the world the best: our school, our company, our -battalion, they seem to each individual one of us perfect - -[Illustration: “FIVE HUNDRED ODD OFFICERS WALKING ROUND THE SQUARE.” - -[_To face page 196._ -] - -and unique. It is only natural that we should think the P.O.W. Theatre, -Mainz, the absolute Alhambra of the _Gefangenenlagers_. However bad our -shows had been we should have thought them supreme. But really, -considering that every costume had to be improvised, every piece of -scenery painted on flimsy paper, and that female attire was -unpurchasable, I do not think that its shows could have been better -staged. Certainly the scenic effects towards the end of our captivity -were better than anything one would have seen at a provincial pantomime, -though that is in itself hardly a recommendation. - -Programmes began modestly enough in the days of soup and sauerkraut. We -were hungry then and had little spare vitality. But a concert party was -formed that called itself the “Pows,” and which gave performances every -Saturday. There were many difficulties, the chief one being an entire -lack of revue music. In order to get a song the aid of many had to be -invoked. A committee of six would sit round a table trying to remember -the words of “We’ve got a little Cottage” or “When Paderewski plays.” -Each person remembered a stray line or phrase, and gradually like a -jigsaw puzzle the fabric was completed. And then the music had to be -written, and luckily the “Pows” possessed in Aubrey Dowdon a musical -director who could write music as fast as he could write a letter. He -scored the parts, and the musician strummed them out. The result was a -most amusing vaudeville performance. There were some excellent voices, -romantic and humorous; Aubrey Dowdon was himself no mean vocalist, and -there was Milton Hayes. - -Indeed it is hard not to make the account of those early performances a -mere chronicle of Milton Hayes. He was the supreme humorist. All he had -to do was to stand on the stage and smile, and the audience was happy. -It was a wonderful smile, that unconscious innocent affair that only -childhood is supposed to know. And to watch Hayes perform was like -watching a child play with bricks. It was as if he were making his jokes -simply for his own pleasure, building up his toy palace of fun, and then -turning to his audience to ask them how they liked it. A small stage and -a small room give scope for a far deeper intimacy than is possible in -the large proscenium of a London hall, where the artist can see before -him only a dull blur of faces through the dusk. At Mainz Milton Hayes -could see and, as it were, speak to each individual present, and before -he had been on the stage five minutes one felt as if he were an old -friend that one had known all one’s life. He caught the true spirit of -intimacy, the kindredship with his audience, that is the whole secret of -the music-hall profession. - - * * * * * - -During the first two months the programme did not change much. There -would be always some slight variety in a new stunt by Hayes, a new tune -by Dowdon, or a topical sketch. But the old numbers continually cropped -up. “The Money Moon” and “When you’re a long way from Home”--these never -left us. Still, they received a hearty welcome. The audience in an -_Offiziergefangenenlager_ is not too captious. It goes not to criticise -but to be amused. And so for the first two months the “Pows” continued -to entertain us every Saturday. After a while the stress of private -composition caused Milton Hayes to drop out more or less, but the -company went on with an undiminished vigour. And then suddenly a rumour -went round the camp that a rival company was being formed, and that in a -fortnight’s time the “Shivers” would start their continental tour. - -The general good being the one standard by which to judge any collective -innovation, the enterprise of the “Shivers” must be considered the -greatest benefit the camp received. Competition roused the ambition of -the “Pows.” Each party swore to outdo the other. There ensued a race of -progressive excellence. Each performance was produced with a more -lavish outlay of the public funds; each time the curtain rose a deeper -gasp paid homage to scenic artists; and the composers ceased to rely for -their material on the work of other men. They began to write their own -songs and their own music; the old ragtime and coon melodies -disappeared, and instead we had original airs and topical numbers. And -here the “Pows” had a great advantage, for their musical director, who -in these pages shelters himself beneath the pseudonym of Aubrey Dowdon, -had a gift for libretto that we soon expect to see on the playbills of -the Alhambra, and his company finally beat all records with a musical -operetta entitled _The Girl on the Stairs_. All the songs were original, -and it was marvellously staged. There were eastern grottos, and the -gleam of white shoulders through the dusk. There was a long serenade to -the Jehlum River girl, in which brown tanned slaves prostrated -themselves before the half-naked form of a sylph arrayed in veils. There -were humour and naughtiness, horseplay and burlesque. It was a triumph -of impromptu and ingenuity, after which the activities of the “Shivers” -fell woefully flat. - -From the psychological standpoint the professional jealousy of those -weeks of hectic rivalry provided food for much deliberation. The rivalry -once definitely acknowledged, the camp did its best to foment -contention. The manager of the “Shivers” would be told that, unless he -was careful, he would be absolutely washed out by the “Pows,” and the -same story was carried to Dowdon. There were few things more amusing -than to sit behind either party during a rival performance. They would -simulate great enthusiasm, but all the time they would be exchanging shy -and nervous glances. There would be whispers of-- - -“Do you think it’s good?” - -“Rather cheap that, isn’t it?” - -“What a chestnut!” - -And if the piece did make a hit, what colossal “wind-up,” what profound -trepidation! And with what eager haste was the next show rehearsed. -From the point of view of the public, this was entirely excellent. We -got excellent shows, for there is no goad like jealousy. - -But competition is a dangerous tool, and I often used to wonder where -all this frenzy would end, and to what point it was leading. It had got -beyond the well-defined limits of a good-humoured race. If it had been a -case of nations, it is quite plain what the result would have been. -Competition would have become contention, jealousy would have bred -hatred, and there would have been a war, of which the real issue would -have been, shall we say, the prop-box. But of course the companies -themselves would not have fought; they had started the war, that would -have been enough for them. And the ordinary _Gefangener_, who had quite -unconsciously fanned this flame, by scratching at the sore place and -aggravating the little itch, would find himself enrolled under one -standard or the other, and involved in a war of which he was the -unwitting cause. - -And he would be told--well, what would he be told? That he was fighting -for a prop-box? That would never do. There might come a time when he -would not consider a prop-box worth the surrender of his liberty. No, -the manager would have to find some striking and impersonal cause, “not -for passion, or for power.” A theme must be found fitting for high -oratory, a framework constructed that would bear the weight of many -sounding phrases. Let the poor _Gefangener_ believe that he is fighting -for the freedom of the English stage; let the old catchwords rip, “Art -against Vulgarity,” “The Drama against the Vaudeville,” “Shakespeare -against A Little Bit of Fluff.” And then.... - -But fortunately we were not nations armed with a pulpit and a Press, we -were simply prisoners of war, and this competition produced some very -delightful entertainment. But all the same, I still wonder where things -would have ended, if we had stayed there much longer. We were riding for -a smash. We had exhausted our limited resources; for one man cannot -compose, stage and produce a new musical comedy every fortnight, and the -rivalry of the two parties had developed at such an alarming pace that -we were faced with the prospect of a return to “The Money Moon,” when -Milton Hayes returned to the stage, and, in his own phrase, “let loose -the light that set the vault of heaven on fire.” - - -§ 2 - -For some weeks Milton Hayes had been living the retired life of an -author, architect or other student. For he had found the effort of -repeated performances in an unnatural atmosphere a very real strain on -his nerves. - -“No Sanatogen,” he said, “that’s what does it. I can’t act without -Sanatogen. I used to try champagne once, but it left me like a rag -afterwards. Sanatogen’s the stuff.” - -As a traveller in this commodity he would have made quite a hit. He -never wearied of singing its praises, and we used to ask him why he did -not forward to the firm one of those credentials that begin, “Since -using your admirable tonic....” - -“Why don’t you try it, Milton?” we used to say. “It would be a jolly -good advertisement. ‘Milton Hayes, the author of the _Green Eye_, -says....’ You’d have your name placarded all over the kingdom.” - -But he would none of it. - -“No,” he said, “that’s far too obvious. Any beginner tries that stunt, -or men that are ‘has beens.’ I might invent a mixture. But no, not the -other thing. It’s not the sort of publicity one wants.” - -But whatever commercial advantage Sanatogen may have lacked as an -advertising agent, its absence in Hayes’s life certainly affected his -nerves. It is a compound that he found palatable only in milk, and even -condensed milk was a rare commodity. The result was that Milton Hayes -joined the band of Wordsmiths in the Alcove, and spent his time working -on his lyrics and on a musical comedy. - -This programme satisfied him well enough for a couple of months. In -France he had spent much of his time organising concert parties, and in -his heart of hearts he was not sorry to be quit for a time of grease -paints and the greenroom. But it could not last; and within a short time -he was longing for fresh worlds to conquer. And, at the suggestion of a -friend, he altered and abbreviated his musical comedy into a farcical -libretto calculated to run for about a hundred minutes. This composition -he laid in all good faith before the Entertainments Committee, -suggesting that he should choose his cast from the pick of the “Pows” -and the “Shivers,” and should himself produce the show. It was a simple -proposal; but he had not calculated upon the extent to which -professional rivalry had imprisoned the dramatic activities of the camp. - -While all the world slept momentous things had happened. A scheme of -regulations had been drawn up for the guidance of the managing -directors, which in a way resembled the qualifications of League -Football. To prevent poaching it had been decided that, once a performer -had figured on the playbills of one company, he could not transfer his -allegiance elsewhere. No assistance was to be given by one party to -another; only the piano, the orchestra and the prop-box were common -property. There was a sort of trade boycott afoot in which only neutral -waters were free from tariff. - -And then into this world of regulated commerce Milton Hayes entered like -the bold bad buccaneer of Romance, demanding free ports and free -transport, the very pirate of legality. - -Well, what the committee’s opinion on this subject was, we can only -conjecture. What it did is a matter of common knowledge. It absolutely -refused to lend its support: why, we can but guess. Perhaps they were a -little piqued at the infrequency of Hayes’s appearance on the -vaudeville stage; perhaps they had advanced so far into the land of -tabulated orders that they could see no safe withdrawal. Perhaps.... But -it is unfair to impute motives to any one. One can merely state facts, -and register one’s personal opinion that collectively humanity is rather -stupid, and that if committees are allowed a free hand, they usually do -manage to mess things up somehow; and that the conclusions at which they -arrive do not at all represent the opinions of those individuals framing -them. - -I remember that some four and a half years ago I received a sufficiently -severe beating from the School’s Games Committee, on the ground that I -had played roughly in a house match; and that within a week six of the -seven members of that committee had apologised to me in person for their -assault. This, as a testimonial to my moral worth, was no doubt -comforting; but as an alleviation for the pain of those fourteen -strokes, it was an inadequate recompense. And the treatment of Milton -was not very different. - -The committee, which consisted of ten officers, refused him their -support; but each individual member of the community considered it a -grave injustice, and one and all they came up to Hayes with apologies to -the tune of-- - -“Awfully sorry, old man, about this show of yours. I wish we could have -helped you. I’d love to myself, only the committee won’t let me. Beastly -nuisance I call it, a man isn’t his own master any longer. Awfully -sorry, old man.” - -By the time the tenth member had expressed a similar regret, Milton -Hayes began to wonder whether the committee was a blind force, with a -will independent of its component parts. He was naturally gratified to -receive so many sympathetic condolences, but they did not materially -assist him in his task of finding a company to produce his libretto. -However, he beat the by-ways and hedges, and finally amassed a -nondescript community, which for want of a better name he called the -“Buckshees.” - -The company numbered thirty-two, and was supported by voluntary -contribution. The “Pows” and the “Shivers” had drawn within their folds -the pick of the vocalists and humorists; two dramatic societies had -gleaned after them. The remaining stubble was a sorry sight, and as an -insignificant member of that distinguished caste, I must confess that I -viewed the first mustering of the “Buckshees” with an eye of profound -misgiving. All of them were strangers to one another; and though it is -easy to talk of flowers “that blow unseen,” in a community such as a -prison camp one is usually aware pretty early of those whom the Fates -have endowed with talents. There had been little selection. Affairs had -taken a course something like this. Hayes had been walking across the -square when he had been accosted by a total stranger. - -“I say, Hayes,” he would say, “you are getting up a show or something, -aren’t you?” - -“Yes; like a part in it?” - -“Well, that’s what I really came up for.” - -“Done any acting?” - -“Oh, not much, you know, a few charades.” - -“Well, what do you fancy?” - -“Low comedy.” - -“Right, then I’ll put you down for the drunken slaveboy. First rehearsal -to-morrow at ten in the lecture hall; thanks so much. Cheerioh.” - -And so the “Buckshees” were formed. - -But the difficulties did not lie merely in the calibre of the artists. -There was the staging, the scenery, the music. Hayes had written the -songs, but who was to score the melodies? The versatile Dowdon had -promised to overrule the committee and orchestrate the parts, but what -of the piano? For the only two musicians had been collared by the “Pows” -and the “Shivers.” There were, of course, numerous strummers, but there -was no composer. And it was amusing to watch the way Hayes set to work. - -First of all he would write the lyric, and beat out a rhythm. He would -then go and recite his composition to one Radcliffe, who could play the -piano, but could not score a part; Radcliffe would get the drift of -Hayes’s idea, and would in the course of hours compose a harmony of -sorts, which he would play to his friend Gladstone, who could score a -part but could not play a piano. Gladstone would jot down the notes; and -behold a finished song, the result of a sort of Progressive Whist. - -The troubles of staging were less difficult. The experts had, it is -true, been already commandeered by the other societies. But a -serviceable quartet of carpenters was discovered, and some decorative -artists procured. All these arrangements Hayes left in charge of others. -He knew the art of delegating responsibility, and he certainly had his -hands full with his cast. For he relied for his success on vitality, -innovations, and the quality which he always dubbed as “punch.” He did -not ask for elaborate scenery. He knew he could not expect to equal -effect of _The Girl on the Stairs_. He simply demanded an adequate -setting. He would do the rest. - - -§ 3 - -With a company endowed with mediocre ability Hayes did wonders. He -decided to have a beauty chorus, and with curses and entreaties he beat -sixteen ungainly males into a semblance of the charm and delicacy of an -Empire revue. It suffered a great deal, that chorus; it was cursed, and -excommunicated. It was made a target for all the unmentionable swears. -If it had been composed of girls, it would have spent half its time in -tears. But eventually it emerged, in all its nudity, a machine. There -was a big joyboard, running well into the auditorium; and on this it -affected all the airs and graces of the courtesan. It cajoled and -pleaded; it undulated with emotion. It swayed to each breath of melody, -and it was not too unpleasant a sight, for Hayes had wisely transported -it to an Eastern - -[Illustration: OUR LEADING LADY. - -[_To face page 214._ -] - -island, to a harem, and the kindly veils of Ethiopian modesty. Through a -mist of white calico it was impossible to discern the razored roughness -of a cheek, and the unrazored blackness of an upper lip. The chorus was -a triumph. - -And the same tribute must be accorded to the leading ladies. Nature had -provided them with pleasing features. Under Hayes’s tuition they learnt -the art of the glad eye and the droop of the lower lip. To see those -beauties was to be back again in the gay world of colour and revue. A -breath of femininity quivered about the rough-cast masculinity of Mainz. -So much so, indeed, that on the night of the first performance a -distinguished field officer, who had drunk deeply not only of romance, -was observed chasing round the corridor behind the flying feet of an -inclement Venus, and murmuring between his gasps, “Don’t call me Major, -call me Jim”; and even the most hardened misogynists were not -unconscious of a thrill when “Leola,” the daughter of the Hesperides, -tripped down the joyboard, and sang with outspread, enticing arms, that -beckoned to the audience-- - - “Come to Sonalia with me.” - -The plot of the play was extravagantly simple. The curtain went up, -revealing a harassed author searching among his papers for a hidden -plot. The show was billed to start at two o’clock, but the play was -lost, what should he do? And then the machinery of Romance began. An -Arabic inscription gave the key. “Why should they not wish for the -plot?” Faith would remove mountains, and Faith caused to emerge from the -back of the stage a green-faced being, who called himself “The King of -Wishland.” - -From then onwards it was plain sailing: the barrier between the -phenomenal and the real was torn aside, and we were in the world of -fancy. And it was no surprise when this obliging monarch produced a -strange device which he called a “thoughtoscope,” through which could be -observed the hurried arrival from New York of the Financier who was to -find a plot. Through this mendacious lens we saw him cross from Halifax -to London. He was in an aeroplane, he was over Holland, he was coming -down the Rhine, he had landed in Mainz, and look, amid gigantic -enthusiasm the gates of the theatre were flung open and Milton Hayes, -disguised as Silas P. Hawkshaw, was observed charging across the square, -waving a stick and a suitcase. - -What followed was sheer joy. The company rose to the occasion. With -perfect equanimity we received the news that, in order to find the plot, -we should have to be transported to Wishland. In Silas P. Hawkshaw we -placed a blind unquestioning trust, and before we knew where we were, -the curtain was down, and the chorus was regaling the audience, while -the scene-shifters did their noble work. - -When next the curtain rose it revealed a tropical island splashed in -sunshine. Through a vista of palms gleamed the azure stretches of some -ultimate shoreless sea. But no one would have willingly set sail. The -island was too full of charm. There were singing girls and dancing -girls, a sultan’s harem, and an American bar, and the story lost itself -in a riot of intrigue. The plot abandoned all coherence. It was a fairy -dream, in which a magic ring changed hands innumerable times, involving -disastrous loves and deserted widows. - -And through all this medley of incidents Hayes wandered, first in one -garb, then in another. As a Scotsman he swallowed whisky, as a Welshman -took two wives, as a padre wandered into a harem, and as “Leda was the -mother of Helen of Troy, and all this was to him but as the sound of -lyres and flutes.” It was for him a great triumph, and perhaps the most -supreme moment was, when he proffered marriage to a much-married widow, -and suggested that they should spend their holiday in a bungalow, in a -duet of which the first verse is too good to be forgotten-- - -[Illustration: LIEUT. MILTON HAYES, M.C. AS SILAS P. HAWKSHAW. - -[_To face page 218._] - -“_He._ How’d you like a Bungalow for two, dear? - -_She._ How’d you like to furnish it complete? - -_He._ It would be a cosy nest, dear. - Like the grey home in the west, dear. - -_She._ And on Sunday I should let you cook the meat, - -_He._ We’d have a little bedroom made for two, dear, - -_She._ A little bed, a little chair or so; - -_He._ And in a month or two, it maybe, - We should have a little baby - -_Both._ Grand piano in our Bungalow.” - -There were four more verses, in the main topical, and the play ran its -way through the complete gamut of upheavals, matrimonial and domestic. -It was impossible to tell who was allied to whom. It was a complete and -utter socialism, and even the great Plato himself would have been -satisfied with that community of wives. - -But it had to end; and, to carry the spirit of burlesque to its -conclusion, we finished with a pantomime procession. The chorus came on, -as choruses always do, in couples beating time with their heels. And in -their hands they brandished banners on which were inscribed the names -nearest to the northern heart, “Preston,” “Wigan,” “Johnnie Walker,” -“Steve Bloomer.” Then the protagonists appeared, each with an -appropriate tag, the lovers with a curtsey and a bow-- - - “And so through every kind of weather - We two will always cling together.” - -The gay lady still naughtily impenitent-- - - “Although I haven’t chanced to find a feller, - I crave your pity; pity poor Finella.” - -The evil genie of the piece, his brows wrinkled with gloom-- - - “You see my work I never shirk, - For I’ve done all the dirty work.” - -And, last of all, Milton Hayes with a wand, a simper and a skirt-- - - “Without my aid where would poor Jack have been? - So please reward the little fairy queen.” - -And after that was sung once again the opening chorus, and the curtain -was rung down on the most enjoyable show of the P.O.W. Theatre, Mainz, -which by a strange and lucky coincidence also happened to be the last. -For within a day or two the armistice was signed, and the companies and -committees were scattered. It remains now for Milton Hayes to give once -more to London audiences the pleasure that he gave to us. But because -sentiment lies so near to the human heart, I think his association with -the “Buckshees” will recall to Milton Hayes more pleasant memories than -those of his other and perhaps more universal successes. At a time when -life was grey and tedious, he provided us with interest, with employment -and amusement. We can only hope that he enjoyed himself as much as we -did. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -ARMISTICE DAYS - - -§ 1 - -Since my return, so many people have asked me whether prisoners of war -had any idea of the turn affairs were taking during the autumn, that it -would be as well to state here exactly what our sources of information -were. There were only two papers printed in English, the -_Anti-Northcliffe Times_ and the _Continental Times_. The former I never -saw, and it cannot have had a very large circulation. But the -_Continental Times_, which appeared three times a week, was to be found -in every room in the camp. It was the most mendacious chronicle. It was -printed at Berlin, and was published solely for British prisoners of -war; a more foolish production can hardly be imagined. Its views, -political and military, changed with each day’s tidings, and its chief -object was to impress on British prisoners the relative innocence of -Germany and perfidy of the Entente. But it was so badly done that it can -never have achieved its ends. It was far too violent, and so obviously -partial. Its only interesting features were the reproductions from the -English weeklies of articles by men like Ivor Brown and Bertrand -Russell; once they even paid me the doubtful honour of a quotation, a -tribute considerably enhanced by the appearance of the poem under the -name of Siegfried Sassoon. - -But no one took the _Continental Times_ seriously, and the paper that we -relied on for our news was the _Frankfurter Zeitung_, the representative -organ of the Rhine towns. There were two issues daily. The morning one -contained the Alliance _communiqués_, and the evening one the Entente. -Like all other German papers, it was under the strictest censorship of -the military bureaucrats, but it maintained nevertheless an -extraordinary impartiality. It rarely indulged in heroics, and except -for a little “hot air” on March 22nd it kept its head remarkably well. -It is, of course, the most moderate paper in the country, and the -_Berliner Tageblatt_ is considerably more hectic. But the _Frankfurter -Zeitung_ was, certainly during the period of my captivity, more -restrained than any British daily publication. It can be most fittingly -compared, in tone though not in politics, with our sixpenny weekly -papers whose appeal is to the educated classes. - -From this paper we could get a pretty fair idea of how things were -going; but even without the paper we should have been prepared for the -debacle of November. For we could see what the papers do not show--and -that is the psychology of the people. For so long their hopes had been -buoyed up by the expectations of immediate victories in the field; they -had been told that the March offensive would most surely bring them -this peace; and on this belief had rested their entire faith. For this -they had maintained a war that was crippling them. They had endured -sufferings greater than those of either France or England. Their -casualties had been colossal, the civilian population had been starved. -But yet they had hung on, because they had been told that victory would -bring them peace; and then Foch attacked; their expectations were -overthrown; the Entente were still fresh and ready to fight. There was -talk of unlimited resources, and Germany was faced with the prospect of -a long and harassing war that could end only in exhaustion and reverse; -and that the German people were not prepared to endure. - -For there will always come a point at which the individual will refuse -to have his interests sacrificed for a collective abstraction with which -he has not identified himself. Mankind in the mass has neither mind nor -memory, and can be swayed and blinded by a clever politician; it can be -led to the brink of folly without realising what road it follows. -Collectively it is capable of injustice which in an individual it would -never countenance; but sooner or later the collective emotion yields -before the personal demand, and the individual asks himself, “Why am I -doing this? Am I benefiting from it; and if I am not benefiting from it, -who is?” For, of course, by even the most successful war the position of -the individual is not improved. The indemnities and confiscations that -the treaty brings never cover the expenses and privations previously -entailed. And collective honour is perishable stuff. But as long as the -war is successful, the politicians are able to persuade the people that -they are actually gaining something from it. They can say, “We have got -this island and that; here our frontier has been pushed forwards, and in -return for that small concession, look, behold an indemnity.” And -because mankind has neither mind nor memory it is prepared to forget the -millions of pounds that had to be spent first, and the quantity of -blood that had to be spilt. - -That is when the war is successful; but when defeat looms near, whatever -the courtly ministers may urge, the individual will contrast in his own -mind the ravages, that another two years of warfare will entail, with -the possible emoluments that may lie at the end of them. He will say to -himself, “It is reasonable to expect that, by fighting for another two -years, we may eventually get better terms than we should get now, if we -signed a peace. But to me personally, is the difference sufficient to -warrant the sufferings of a protracted war?” And the answer, as often as -not, is “No.” That is, as far as one can judge, the sort of argument -that presented itself to the individual German in the weeks following -Foch’s resumption of the attack. And in determining the forces that went -to the framing of that “no,” the most important thing to realise is that -Germany was actually starving. - -That this is so, a certain portion of the Press has, during the last -month, attempted to deny; and it is rumoured that the armies of -occupation have found the German towns well stocked with food. If this -last report is true, I do not profess to be able to explain it; but of -one thing there can be no doubt, while we were prisoners in Mainz the -German people there were not merely hungry, they were starving. It is -true that meat was obtainable in restaurants, but only at a price so -high as to be well beyond the means of even the moderately wealthy. A -dinner, consisting of a plate of soup and a plate of meat and -vegetables, would in places cost as much as twelve to fifteen marks, and -the majority of men and women had to exist entirely on their rations. Of -many of the necessaries of life it was impossible to get enough, -especially in the case of butter and milk and cheese. Of meat there was -very little, and flour could only be bought at an exorbitant price. The -bread ration was small, and eggs were rarely obtainable. Potatoes alone -were plentiful, and two years of such a diet had considerably lowered -the nation’s vitality. - -In times of sickness this weakness produced heavy fatalities, especially -among the children. A German father even went to the lengths of offering -an English officer a hundred marks for a shilling packet of chocolate to -give to his son who was sick. And all the children born during the last -two years are miserably weak and puny; some of them even having no nails -on their toes and fingers. - -“You are not a father, so you will not understand,” a German soldier -said to me. “But it is a most terrible thing to watch, as I have watched -during the last four years, a little boy growing weaker and paler month -after month; and I can tell you that when I look at my little boy, all -that I want is that this war should end, I do not care how.” - -And it is only natural that the individual parent should feel like this, -and I do not think that in England we quite realise all that Germany has -suffered. I remember one morning after the signing of the armistice -that some small boys of about seven years old climbed up the outside of -the citadel, and asked us for some food. We gave them a few biscuits; -they were very hard and dry, but I have never seen such excitement and -joy on a child’s face before. It was a most pathetic sight. A child of -that age cannot feign an emotion, and those children were absolutely -starving. - -And the knowledge that this was so must have had a very saddening effect -on the German soldier at the front. For one of the very few consolations -that were granted to a British soldier in the line was the certainty -that his wife and family were well and safe. But the German soldier must -have been faced continually with the thought that, whatever sufferings -he might himself endure, he could not protect those he loved from the -hunger that was crushing them, and for him those long cold nights and -lonely watches must have been unrelieved by any gleam of hope. - -It is not natural that any nation should bear such hardships for an -instant longer than they appeared absolutely needful, and when it became -quite clear that the Entente had not only survived the March offensive, -but had emerged from it with undiminished powers, the Germans began to -agitate for an instant peace. At the beginning they were not aware of -their weakness in the field, and when the first armistice note was sent -the terms expected were very light. - -“We shall probably have to evacuate France and Belgium,” they said, “and -perhaps Italy and Palestine. That’s all the guarantee that will be -required.” - -And at this point, as far as we could gather, there was very little -animosity against the Kaiser. - -“Of course,” they said, “this sort of thing must not happen again. We -shall have to tie him down a good deal. Ministers will have to be -responsible to the Reichstag and not to him. That should ensure us.” - -There was hardly any talk of a republic. - -But when the Austrian and Bulgarian armies crumpled up, and Foch began -to threaten invasion from every side, it was as if a sort of panic -seized the Germans. They felt that they must have an armistice at any -cost, and were terribly afraid it would not be granted them. They -thought that the French would demand revenge for every indignity and -injustice they had suffered in 1871; and when they realised that the -Entente was not prepared to treat with the Kaiser, they clamoured for -his abdication. It was an ignoble business. Even the _Frankfurter -Zeitung_ joined in the tumult. There was a general terror which gave -birth to the revolution. - - -§ 2 - -The revolutionists arrived at Mainz on Friday, November 8th, and the -first intimation we received of their presence was the arrival on -morning parade of the German adjutant in a civilian suit. He had -apparently spent the previous evening at Köln, where all officers had -been advised either to leave the town as speedily as possible, or else -change into mufti. This gallant officer did both, and for the first time -since we were captured, we were dismissed without an _appel_. - -During the whole of that day the camp was possessed of rumours. At any -moment we were told the revolutionaries might present themselves before -the gates; we should be in their hands; our whiskered sentries would -have neither the power nor the inclination to protect us. Thoughts of -Bolshevism worked disquietingly within our minds; we pictured a -sanguinary contest between the military and socialist parties, and we -were a little nervous lest the caprice of the moment should ally us with -one or other of the warring parties. The town was clearly under the -power of the Red Flag. German officers were not allowed in the streets -in uniform, and it was a pleasant sight to see the General robing -himself in a suit of mustard-coloured cloth before venturing beyond the -gate. But I must own that personally I was considerably alarmed about my -safety. However deep-rooted may be one’s objections to constitutions and -their rulers, however much one may sympathise with the ἰδέα of -rebellion, one does prefer to view these calamitous upheavals either -from the safety of a hearthrug, or from a distance of two hundred yards. - -And it seemed more than likely that, on the signing of the armistice, we -should have to beat a very hasty retreat which would involve the dumping -of the greater part of our kit; and we had received no information of -what we might take with us. This was very disquieting. During the eight -months of my confinement I had written some two-thirds of a novel, and -had no wish to discover that manuscript was contraband. Tarrant viewed -my troubles with complete composure. - -“My dear Waugh,” he said, “as I’ve told you more than once before, that -novel is quite unprintable, and if it is published, it will plunge both -you and your publisher into disaster. You’d do much better to leave it -here.” - -But with this I could naturally not agree, and in a state of some -perturbation carried my heart-searchings to the German adjutant. He -received me most affectionately. - -“Ah, Mr. Waugh,” he said, “things are not as serious as all that. It -will be all right. If, of course, you had been exchanged, it would have -been a different thing. But now you can take what you like, and I am -sure that anything you write would be quite harmless.” - -“Quite harmless”.... I thought of all the scholastic fury that had been -split over Gordon Carruthers, I thought of Mr. Dames-Longworth who had -called it “pernicious” stuff, of Canon Lyttelton who had spoken so much -and to such little purpose, and who had given me so royal an -advertisement. And I thought of that long stream of correspondents who -had signed themselves “A mere schoolmaster,” and I thought of what they -will say of my new book if it ever sees the light of day; and it seemed -to me that of all the adjectives both of appreciation and abuse that may -be attached to that sorry work, “harmless” is certainly the one it will -never receive again. - -During the remainder of the day rumours bred at an alarming pace. It was -reported that the revolutionaries had taken charge of the camp, and that -although the armistice was still unsigned, they had told us to make our -own arrangements about repatriation. Already negotiations had been -opened with a shipping firm that was to take us down the Rhine to the -Dutch frontier. We had visions of England within a week. - -As to the state of affairs in the town only conjecture was possible; but -from the top windows of Block II, the slate roofs presented the same -somnolent appearance, and it was hard to realise that beneath that -placid landscape Democracy was lighting its flaming torch. - -Most of our information came from the medical orderly. In pre-war days -he had been a waiter at the Carlton, and he had not forgotten how to -swear in English. He was one of the most complete terrorists. - -“Europe is overrun with Bolshevism,” he said. “It is everywhere. You -have it in England. Do you know that you have soldiers’ councils in -England? You have. Did you know that the British Fleet sailed into Kiel -Harbour flying the Red Flag? It did. Soon the whole world will be having -revolutions. There will be no safety, none at all.” - -He was most hectic, and on the day of the armistice his anger exceeded -all bounds. - -“Why do you give us terms like this?” he said. “We have got rid of our -roundheads, our Kaiser, our Ludendorf. Why do you not get rid of yours? -Ah, but Bolshevism will come, and do you know what your soldiers’ -councils have done, they have wired to us not to sign the armistice. But -the wire came too late. Still, it will be all right in time, your -soldiers’ councils will see to that.” - -Where the Germans got the idea that there were soldiers’ councils in -England, I do not know. It certainly did not appear in the _Frankfurter -Zeitung_. But an enormous number of Germans were under the impression -that a corresponding state of affairs existed in England. Probably it -was a point of the revolutionaries’ programme. - - * * * * * - -By November 11th the revolution, as far as Mainz was concerned, had more -or less adjusted itself; and the people’s attention was so occupied by -the new regime that the news of the armistice was not received with as -much excitement as might have been expected. The terms were a great deal -harder than they had hoped for, but they were so glad the war was over -that this did not greatly trouble them. They had ceased to care for -collective honour. The only man I met who was really conscious of the -defeat was the professor who used to take French and German classes. Of -course, all his life it had been his business to instil imperialistic -propaganda into the boys and girls under him, and no doubt he himself -must have considerably absorbed the Pan-German doctrines, and he did -feel acutely the ignominy of his country’s position. - -“What hurts our pride more than anything else,” he said, “is the thought -that we release prisoners instead of exchanging them. It shows us so -clearly that we are beaten.” - -But the people themselves were not at all worried about this. The only -thing that troubled them was the doubt whether they would be able to get -enough to eat after the surrender of so many wagons. The grippe was -raging very fiercely among them, and the need for food was being very -keenly felt. They had also hoped that one of the conditions of the -armistice would have been the removal of the blockade. - -“You have beaten us,” they said. “We cannot fight any more. Why must you -continue the blockade? We have done everything you asked for; the Kaiser -has gone; we have a new Government.” - -For they have not yet realised the extent to which the previous deceit -of their military rulers has discredited them in the eyes of Europe. -They do not realise that every political movement they make has come to -be regarded with suspicion. - -With us the revolution produced fewer ludicrous situations than it did -in some other places, and a most amusing story is told about the camp at -Frankfurt. A few days after the signing of the armistice the senior -British officer and his adjutant presented themselves before the German -Commandant, with the request that they might be allowed out in the town -on parole. There they found their late tyrant, sitting down in his -shirt-sleeves, cutting the epaulettes off his tunic. On their arrival, -however, he put on his greatcoat and made an attempt to recover his -dignity. - -“Yes, gentlemen,” he said, with his courtly foreign grace. - -The senior British officer explained his errand. “As we’re no longer -prisoners,” he said, “we may surely go out for walks?” - -The German looked a little awkward. - -“Well,” he said hesitatingly, “the fact is, I really am not the person -to ask. You see, the soldiers’ council are in command. You must go and -ask Herr Bomenheim, he is the representative.” - -And besides being representative of the revolution, Herr Bomenheim was -also the window cleaner; it is a strange world in which a colonel takes -his orders from his batman. - -At Mainz we were less democratic, as our affairs were run by a -sergeant-major. But for all that we had no truck with the old regime, -and the “Soldaten Raht” proved its independence by court-martialling the -Prussian General. For that deed alone the prisoners of Mainz bear to the -revolutionaries a debt of everlasting gratitude. And the escapade that -led to this retribution provides a fitting example of all that is most -aggressive and inhuman in the Berlin military caste. - -At this time there was a very great deal of sickness in Mainz, and the -hospitals were crowded both with civilians and British officers. It was -also a time at which congestion of the railroads had delayed the arrival -of our Red Cross parcels. The British authorities in the camp had in -consequence collected as large a supply of food as possible, to be sent -to the hospital and divided not only among our own invalids, but among -those of the civilian population whose condition was really critical. -This consignment was loaded on a handcart, and surrounded, by sentries, -was to proceed into the town. - -At the gates, however, it was met by the General, who, by the courtesy -of the revolutionaries, was now allowed to wear his uniform. He -immediately stopped the handcart and asked where it was going; on being -informed of its destination he ordered that the food should be returned -at once to the officers who had collected it, as he could in no wise -countenance such a proceeding. It was pointed out to him that the -condition of several officers in the hospital was most serious, and that -meat stuffs were urgently required. But he would have none of it. - -“My permission was not asked first,” he said, “and I cannot allow it. If -you had come to me, it would have been different. But I cannot have you -behaving as though you were under your own rule.” - -And it is to the credit of the soldiers’ council that they took instant -steps in the matter. The General was informed that he only occupied his -position on tolerance and had no active authority whatsoever. And within -two days he was removed from the camp, and is now, I believe, awaiting -court-martial on a charge of “inhumanity and callousness.” - -And all the while rumours about our release bred at an alarming rate. -The German authorities had told us that it would be impossible for them -to provide us with a train for at least a fortnight, but that if we -liked we could make our own arrangements, and charter a steamer that -would take us up the Rhine. These were days of furious conjecture. The -complete technique of a pleasure trip was exhaustively discussed. How -long did it take a steamer to coal? how long to get up steam? And then -of how many knots an hour was it capable? Sums were worked out on the -old methods of, Let _x_ be the rate of the steamer, and _y_ the speed of -the Rhine. We roughly gauged that it would take twenty-seven hours. But -then, of course, the Dutch Government had to be considered. However -delightful we might be as individual companions, we were not at all sure -whether a neutral country would welcome the sudden arrival of 500 -guests. Of course they had received the Kaiser, but that was not quite -the same thing. There was an inconvenient margin of doubt. - -It was a most disquieting time. Each hour was filled with conflicting -rumours, and after a while one ceased to believe in any of them. We -assumed that on the arrival of the army of occupation we should be -liberated, and it appeared as if we should have to wait till then. - -On November 17th, however, we were given an official permit to go into -the town, and from then onwards the burden of waiting was light. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -FREEDOM - - -§ 1 - -After a confinement of eight months it was a wonderful thing to be able -to walk through the streets unguarded. To be free again; no longer to be -fenced round by barbed wire, to be shadowed by innumerable eyes; no -longer to be under the rule of an arrogant Prussian. It was almost -impossible to grasp it; that we were free, free. Every moment I expected -to feel a heavy hand fall on my shoulder, and to hear a gruff voice -bellow in my ear, “Es ist verboten, Herr Lieutenant.” - -And this sense of unreality was increased by our reception outside the -gates. Whether the children had been given a half-holiday in honour of -their recent naval operations, I do not know, but it did seem as though -the entire infantile population had assembled outside the citadel; and -no sooner did an officer appear than he was surrounded by urchins of -both sexes, up to the age of twelve, all yelling for biscuits and -chocolate. It was an absurd and pitiable sight; and it was terrible to -think that a people had so far lost their self-respect as to allow their -children to beg for food from their enemies. It was often quite hard to -get rid of them; they would hang on to an arm or to the end of a coat, -and simply refuse to let go till actually forced. - -Considering that the nation, of which it formed a part, had just -sustained a defeat practically amounting to unconditional surrender, -Mainz presented a spectacle of strange jubilation. I had expected to -find an atmosphere of a more or less passive resignation, of -disappointment only partially relieved by the cessation of hostilities; -whatever the individual might feel, officialdom surely, we had thought, -would assume a woeful countenance. But instead of that we found a town -robed as for a carnival. Flags were hung from the windows of every -house, the children in the streets waved penny ensigns, and every few -minutes a lorry full of troops would clatter through, the guns decked -with banners, the men shouting and singing. It was as though a -victorious army were returning home, and after all it was only right -that the men should receive a proper welcome. For over four years they -had waged on many fronts a war that had conferred much honour on their -arms. They had been at all times brave and resolute. They had fought to -the very end. It was not their fault that Germany had been steeped in -ruin. - -The reception we received from the civil population was very friendly. -At first it was only with the most extreme diffidence that we entered -cafés and restaurants, but we soon saw that there was little or no -animosity against us. In the streets civilians were always ready to show -us the way, and displayed no resentment at our presence amongst them. -In the cafés German soldiers even came up and spoke to us. There was -such general delight at the war being over, that the Germans felt it -impossible to harbour any ill-will against any save those whom they held -directly responsible for their sufferings, and it was typical of their -attitude that, when a German soldier introduced himself, his first -remark was, “I am not a Prussian.” - -The question of the army of occupation was very keenly discussed, and -everywhere was to be found the same opinion, “We do not want the -French.” It seemed as if that hereditary hate was as keen as ever; for -the English and Americans they entertained very neutral emotions. But -the French were too nearly neighbours; and it seems as if only the long -passage of uneventful years could assuage this spirit of vindictiveness, -that has been artificially fostered in the nursery and in the -schoolroom. - -But between us and the Germans, at any rate in the Southern States, -there is no reason why this hate should outlive the war. That is, of -course, if the attitude of the people of Mainz can be taken as in any -way representative of the other Rhine towns. For we could not have been -more hospitably received. There are those, of course, who will say, “Ah, -but they were pulling your leg, they were only trying to see what they -could get out of you. You spent money in their cafés, that was what they -wanted; and you gave them chocolate and soup, that’s what they were -after.” I have not the slightest doubt that a great many Germans -attached themselves to us solely for ulterior purposes. But as a whole I -believe that the civilians in Mainz were quite honestly pleased to be -able to do for us anything they could, as a sort of proof that they had -altered their Government, that the war was over, and that they had no -wish to nourish any ill-feeling against us. And those who see behind -this display of friendship the calculated deceit of a political stunt, -are, it seems to me, merely seeing their own reflections in the -looking-glass of life. - -The Germans themselves were immensely enthusiastic about the revolution; -they saw in it a complete social panacea. - -“Everything will be all right now,” one of them said to me. “We shall -abolish our big standing army, and our big fleet, and so we shall be -able to cut down our taxes. Before the war our lives were being crushed -out of us, so that generals could retire on large pensions. But now -every one will have to work. We shall be really democratic.” - -“And,” he said, “we are not going to have our children overworked in the -schools. We shall cut down the hours. Before, it was so hard to earn a -living in Germany, that children had to work like that or they would -have been left behind. Competition was ruining us. But now....” - -There was there the blind optimism that is born by the glimmering of a -hope however far withdrawn. The only real dread they had was that, when -the troops returned, Bolshevism might break out. - -“You see,” he went on, “at the front the troops were well fed. Of course -they had no delicacies, but they had enough; while now they are -returning to a country that is practically starving. They will have to -share with us; we are no longer militarists, and we do not see why they -should have the best of everything. It is possible that there will be -trouble. But whatever we do, we shall not be like Russia. We have more -common sense, we are better educated, we are not religious maniacs, we -shall not be swayed by a few demagogues. We are too sane to go to such -extremities.” - -And it was quite clear that they had no intention of restoring the -Kaiser. Having once decided to choose him as their scapegoat, they had -done the business thoroughly. On him they laid the whole burden of their -adversities. - -“He led us into this, and he kept the truth from us. If we had known -that it would come to this, we would have made peace months ago. We -should not have let our children die for want of food.” - -But, as regards actual liberty, the revolution had merely substituted -one tyranny for another, and that a military one. No doubt things will -adjust themselves shortly, and at this time strong discipline was -clearly essential. But the individual had very little freedom. The -patrols of the Red Guard paraded the streets all day with loaded rifles; -at eleven o’clock they entered and cleared the cafés. After that hour -they arrested any one they found in the streets. Moreover, they had -authority to raid private houses whenever they liked, a privilege of -which they frequently availed themselves. Altogether this government of -the people by the people did not seem to me so desirable an Utopia, -though as a revolution it might be a triumph of order and moderation. - -Our week of liberty in Mainz passed quickly and pleasantly. It was a -coloured, leisured life, a continual drifting from one café to another; -we played innumerable games of billiards, listened to the music in the -Kaiserhof, sampled all the cinemas, and heard _Der Troubadour_ at the -theatre. Just off the main street was a small restaurant where we took -all our meals. It was in rather an out-of-the-way spot, and as we were -the only officers to discover it, we became during that week a sort of -institution. The proprietor struck up quite a friendship with us, and -whenever we came in, he used to produce from his cupboard a bottle of -tomato sauce. It bore the name of Crosse & Blackwell, and he was very -proud of his possession. To offer us a share in it was the greatest -compliment he could pay. - -Our last night there I shall never forget. We came in rather late for -dinner, and by the time we had finished it was well after ten, but the -proprietor insisted on us staying a little longer. He set us down at the -same table as his friends and produced a vast quantity of wine. They -were hospitable folk, and two hours’ companionship over a bottle had -removed all tendencies to reserve. - -Opposite me was a German officer who had spent the greater part of his -life in England; and his flow of words bore irrefutable testimony to the -potency of Rhine wine. - -“I have lived among you all my life,” he said; “I do not wish to fight -against you. I have no quarrel with the English. It is only the French I -hate, the bloody French. I would do anything I could to harm them. They -hate us and we hate them,” and a man generally speaks the truth when he -is drunk. - -The end of the evening was less glorious. It was well after eleven -before we managed to escape after countless _Aufwiedersehens_, and no -sooner had we got outside the house than we walked straight into a -patrol of the Red Guard, by whom we were arrested, and returned to the -citadel under an armed escort. - -Next morning we were marched down into a train for Metz. All the German -officers from the camp and a considerable number of civilians came to -see us off. As I leant out of the window, to catch a last glimpse of the -cathedral, it was hardly possible to realise that the war was over and -that we were going home. It was the day to which we had looked forward -for so long, the day of which we had dreamt so much during the cold and -loneliness of the nights in France. It had been then immeasurably -remote, a flickering uncertain gleam, too far away for any tangible -hope. And the mind had fastened upon those nearer probabilities of -leave,--a blighty, or a course behind the line. And now that day had -really come, I could not grasp its significance. I was almost afraid to -look forward, and my mind went back to the earlier days of our -captivity, to the hunger and the depression, to the intolerable tedium -and irritation. And yet, for all that, a wave of sentimentality -partially obscured the sharpness of those memories. We had had some -good times there in the citadel; that grey monochrome had not been -entirely unrelieved. There had been certain moments worth remembering; -and I thought that, when the incidents of the past four years had -settled down into their true perspective, I should be able to look back, -not without a certain kindliness, towards that unnatural life, that -strange world of substitute and sauerkraut. - - -§ 2 - -The journey home was protracted by innumerable delays. We left Mainz on -November 24th, and it was not until the 5th of December that we arrived -in London. We spent five days in Nancy, another three in Boulogne, and -the trains behaved as is their wont on the railroads of France. All this -rather tended to dispel the glamour of the return. - -For one of the chief attractions of leave is its suddenness. One is -sitting on the steps of a dugout musing gloomily on the probable chance -of a relief, when a runner arrives from Battalion with a chit, “You will -proceed on U.K. leave to-night. The train leaves Arras at 8.10 p.m.” And -then the world is suddenly haloed with flame. One rushes down the -dugout, flings hurried orders to the sergeant, collects all that is -least important in one’s kit, scatters an extravagance of largess among -the batmen who have collected it, and then races for H.Q. It is all a -scramble and a rush. The mess cart is chartered, within a couple of -hours one is at the railhead; a night of cramp and discomfort and one is -at Boulogne; there is just time for a bath at the E.F.C. Club, and then -the boat sails. There is a train waiting at the other end, and the whole -business takes only twenty-four hours. It is like a tale from the -_Arabian Nights_. At one moment one is sitting on a firestep, the next -one is in London. It embodies the very essence of romance. - -But the return of the _Gefangener_ was altogether different. He had -plenty of time in which to collect his thoughts, the return to -civilised life was marked by slow gradations. At Metz he could get a -decent bath, at Nancy a decent dinner. By the time he had reached -Boulogne, his odyssey had assumed the most prosaic proportions. There is -no doubt about it, for those who had been prisoners only a few months -the leave boat was infinitely more exciting. - -But there were, of course, compensations. After having lived on tinned -meats for eight months, it was a thrilling experience to find a menu -that comprised fried sole and grouse, Brussel sprouts and iced grapes. -Over my first dinner I took three hours. It was a gluttonous but on the -whole a natural exhibition. It also saved us from a further period of -confinement. - -For when we arrived at Nancy one of the first pieces of intelligence we -received, was the news that it would not be possible to provide a train -for us within five days. To many ardent spirits this was a sad blow, and -one or two adventurers decided that whatever the rest might do, they -themselves were not going to wait five days “for any blooming train,” -and among these rebels I had rather naturally numbered myself. - -During the afternoon I went down to the station with Barron, the -constant companion of my peradventures, and interviewed the railway -authorities. Now there is only one way to deal with a military -policeman; it is no good trying to dodge him. He knows that trick too -well. The frontal assault is the one road to success. We walked straight -up to him. - -“Corporal,” I said, “we’re going to Paris.” - -“Very good, Sir; you’ve got your movement order made out, I suppose.” - -“No, Corporal, I’m afraid I haven’t,” I confessed. - -He grunted. - -“That makes it a bit awkward, Sir; you see, I have got orders, Sir, -to....” - -At this juncture a five-franc note changed hands. - -“But, Sir, of course it could be managed, I expect, if you’re down at -ten minutes to eleven. Well, Sir, I’ll see what I can do.” - -That was all right; and feeling ourselves rather dogs, we made our way -back to the Stanislas and had a game of billiards. At half-past six we -sat down to a long, carefully selected dinner and two bottles of -champagne; and as the evening progressed a delightful warmth and languor -came over us. A bed with a spring mattress seemed more than ever -desirable. - -“It won’t be a very comfortable journey,” hazarded my companion. “It -will take a good ten hours.” - -“Yes,” I said. - -“It really seems rather a sweat....” - -“Old man,” I said sternly, “I’ve paid that corporal five francs, and on -my mother’s side I’m Scots.” - -And we returned to our attack on the omelette. - -Half an hour passed, and the world of languor grew even fairer. Effort -then appeared almost criminal. Surely the supreme delight of life lay -in this slow puffing at a cigarette. The idea of our all-night journey -became increasingly abhorrent. - -“Archie,” I said, “do you think we shall be able to get any sleep in -this train?” - -“We shall be too cold. You know what a French train is?” - -And again there was a silence. By this time we had reached the coffee -stage. In about half an hour we should have to go. There would be a -longish walk back to our billets, then we should have to pack and lug -our bags all the way down to the station. It really didn’t seem worth -while.... - -“Look here,” I said, “we shall only gain five days by this, and I’m -jolly sleepy....” - -“And if it’s your Scots blood that is troubling you,” my companion burst -out, “I’ll pay you the damned five francs now, and with interest.” - -That settled it. - -“Garçon,” I called, “l’addition, s’il vous plaît, et cherchez-moi un -fiacre, je suis fort épuisé.” - -But the others were either made of sterner stuff, or else they had -wearied of the lures of the Stanislas. At any rate they presented -themselves duly before the military policeman at 10.50, and a quarter of -an hour later they were on their way to Paris, to that city of gay -colours and gayer women; while stretched out peacefully on a delightful -spring mattress, two renegades slept a coward’s sleep. - -Well, the last I heard of those lambent rebels was that on their arrival -at Paris they were instantly arrested by the A.P.M., and when we left -Boulogne they were still sending urgent telegrams over France, begging -for an instant release. Whether this has been since accorded them I do -not know, but when I went down to Victoria a week after my arrival to -meet a friend, I saw, stacked in a neglected corner, a huge pile of the -white wood boxes that were peculiar to the Offiziergefangenenlager, -Mainz. And on those boxes were the names of those bright warriors who -had defied authority. Their luggage had come on afterwards with us, and -had preceded them by many days. They were very gallant fellows, very -resolute and proud-hearted, but ... I am glad I went to the Stanislas. - -And when we did eventually move from Nancy, it was not in one of the -unspeakable leave trains, but in a hospital train, fitted with every -possible convenience and comfort. As in the haven of the Pre-Raphaelite, -there were “beds for all who come,” and beds, moreover, that were poised -on springs, and that swung gently to the movement of the engine. For -thirty-six hours we slept solidly. - -And at Boulogne we were provided with a hospital boat; indeed, we might -have been the most serious stretcher cases, instead of being rather -untidy, very lazy, and thoroughly war-weary _Gefangenen_. It was a royal -return. - -Twenty-four hours later, with a warrant for two months’ leave in my -pocket, I was standing on Victoria platform, a free man. I had often -wondered what it would feel like. Would it seem very strange to be no -longer under authority, to be able to do what I liked, and to go where I -wanted? I had wondered whether the atmosphere of a prison camp would -still hang over me, and whether I should see in commissionaires and -waiters some dim survival of those whiskered sentries. When I went to a -theatre, should I turn rather nervously to the powdered lackey in the -vestibule, as if half expecting a thundered “es ist verboten”? Would it -take long to drop those habits of subservience? - -But when I was once there, all those misgivings were as a dream. It -seemed that I had never been away at all. With my old-time skill, I -overawed a taxi-driver, and promised to “make it worth his while.” I -drove round to my banker, and cashed an enormous cheque; then to my -tailors to order a civilian suit. And then--Hampstead. - -I lay back against the padded cushion and watched each well-known -landmark fall behind me--Lord’s, Swiss Cottage, the Hampstead cricket -field. Surely I had never been away at all. Those eight months in -Germany, they were merely some old remnant of a fairy tale, _ein Märchen -aus alten Zeiten_; they had no real existence. I felt as though I were -coming back from Sandhurst for my Christmas leave. There had been no -separation. In the last month I had had one week-end leave and two -Sunday passes. It was just a resumption of the old life, a slipping back -into the ordered harmony of days. - -The taxi drew up outside the door; I knocked on the window with my -stick, and the hall was instantly alive with welcome. But I could not -make it an occasion for heroics. It did not seem in any way a special -event, demanding any exceptional excitement. - -“Father,” I said, “I’ve got no change. You might give that taxi-driver -ten shillings.” - - - - -INDEX - - -“Alcove,” the, its cosy comforts, 173; - protection of its own interests, 175-8; - a place of happy memories, 186-90; - Milton Hayes in retirement in, 207 - -Alhambra, the, the future home of Aubrey Dowdon, 201 - -Amiens, its luxuries, 150 - -Amusements in captivity, 193 _et seq._ - -_Anti-Northcliffe Times_, the, 222 - -Architecture flourishes in the Alcove, 178 - -Armistice, the, in Mainz, 236 _et seq._ - -“Arnold,” Capt., his bibulous escapade at Karlsruhe, 113 - -Arras to St. Quentin, attack upon, 3 - -Asceticism, its ethics considered, 53 - -Aspirin, German doctor’s sole prescription, 128 - -Authorship, as fostered by the Pitt League, 173, 178 - - -Baden-Hessen, its native moderation, 117 - -Bapaume, 14 - -Barclay, Mrs. Florence, lengths resorted to by a prisoner - to secure her _Rosary_, 50 - -“Barron,” Lieut., his capacity for sleep, 131; - his ingenuity as cook, 132; - his self-sacrifice in a good cause, 135; - his amiable companionship, 141; - a friend to the last, 260 - -Beauty chorus of the “Buckshees,” 214 - -Beef dripping as an ingredient in chocolate _soufflé_, 133 - -Bennett, Mr. Arnold, his praises sung, 184 - -Berlin, all roads lead to, 16 - -_Berliner Tageblatt, Der_, its hectic effusions, 224 - -Bible, the, sacrilege upon, by a German officer, 125 - -Billiards as a form of athletics, 196 - -Bolshevism, the shadow of, 233; - a German waiter on, 237 - -Bomenheim, Herr, formerly window-cleaner, eventually Commandant - of Frankfort, 241 - -“Book of Common Prayer,” its inadequacy as a complete prison-library, 49 - -Boulogne, prisoners at, 262 - -Bout-Merveille, generosity of the inhabitants, 34 - -Bread, arrival of, at Mainz: mouldiness of, 102 - -Brooke, Rupert, 191 - -“Buckshees,” the, Milton Hayes’s operatic company at Mainz, 210 - -Bullecourt, capture of, 4 - -Bully-beef as an incentive to platitude, 104; - its monotony, 129 - -Bureaucracy, its insidious influence among prisoners, 64; - its inquisitiveness, 65; - its confusion of literature with commerce, 66; - German bureaucracy and food parcels, 109 - -Byron, Lord, Lieut. Stone’s resemblance to, 176 - - -Cambrai, Headquarter orders concerning, 7 - -Cannan, Mr. Gilbert, his _Stucco House_ saved from fire, 10; - Lieut. Stone’s mild admiration for, 184 - -Captivity, its irksomeness and psychology, 139-46 - -Carlton Hotel, a waiter at, now a German orderly in Mainz, 237; - his political views, 237 - -Censor of letters, his natural modesty, 78 - -Cheshire Cheese, the, visions of, in captivity and after, 188 - -Chestnuts, their nutritive value as coffee, 27 - -Chocolate, its Shavian importance in event of an escape, 160; - its market price in Germany, 229 - -Chocolate _soufflé_, novel recipe for, 132 - -Claustrophobia, its effect on prisoners, 47 - -Colonels, three British, attempt to escape from Mainz, 161; - ignominious result of, 163 - -Commandant of Mainz, the, his arrogant pomposity, 121; - his vindictiveness, 123; - his cheap revenges, 123; - his contempt for literature, 125; - his punishments for attempted escapes, 164; - his final error and fall, 242 - -Committees, their characteristic abuses, 209 - -_Continental Times_, the, its glib mendacity, 222; - its pro-German propaganda, 223 - -Cooking in a prison camp, 129 - -Copenhagen, bread arrives from, 100 - -Corporal, scepticism of a section-, 2 - -Correspondence, abnormal, 14 - -Cox, Messrs., the accommodating bankers, 58 - -“Croft,” Col., as harbinger of food, 101 - -Crown Prince, the, his inflammatory portraits, 98 - -Cuff, Sergeant, in _The Moonstone_, 158 - - -Dane, Miss Clemence, her fiction under fire, 9 - -Dickens, Charles, his extravagant characterisation - reproduced in Col. “Westcott,” 69 - -Dictaphones, German use of, 30 - -Douai, prisoners march to, 23; - illiterate melancholy of, 27; - dictaphones at, 30 - -“Dowdon,” Aubrey, his astounding musical gifts, 198; - his imperishable libretti, 201; - stimulating his ambition, 202; - to the rescue of the “Buckshees,” 212 - -Dowson, Ernest, 188 - -Doyle, Sir Francis Hastings, his inspiration of the modern soldier, 21 - -“Dried Veg,” nutritive solace of, 56 - -Dury, 24 - - -Ecoust, capture of, 4 - -Education, the British dislike of, 68 - -Escapes, the romance of, 152; - various schemes for, 154; - the first attempt at, 158-62; - effect of, upon cowardly natures, 164; - punishment for attempts, 164; - Col. Wright’s splendid attempts, 167; - and their frustration, 169 - -“Evans,” Lieut., his knowledge of charts, 13; - his tactful reticence, 15; - his watchfulness, 15; - his unsuccessful quest for parcels, 106; - his enthusiasm for Col. “Westcott’s” oratory, 130; - his natural appetite, 134; - and -picturesque language, 134; - his cookery examination, 136 - - -Field Service Regulations, their bearing upon capture, 18 - -Finland, its future in the herring trade, 84 - -Finnish language, the, its visionary path to a Priority Pass, 83 - -Flaubert, Gustave, 144; - his slow workmanship, 183 - -Foch, Marshal, effect of his offensive on the German mind, 232 - -Food, the lack of, 27, 31, 50, 51; - cost of, in Germany, 228 - -Food-parcels, their absorbing interest, 55, 100, 105 - -Football in captivity, 194 - -Frankfort, Central Command at, vindicates the integrity of literature, 126; - the effect of the armistice at, 240 - -_Frankfurter Zeitung, Der_, its journalistic continence, 93; - its popularity among prisoners, 223; - no fosterer of wild rumour, 238 - -French, German hatred of, 249 - -French language, the, difficulty of acquiring among prisoners, 64; - the British bureaucrat’s estimate of, 66 - -“Frobisher,” Capt., his military enthusiasm, 174; - his dislike of “the Huns,” 174; - his inappropriateness in the Alcove, 175; - the scheme for his removal, 176; - his antipathy to poetry, 177; - his final exit from the Alcove, 178 - -Future Career Society, the, its inauguration and methods, 63; - its bureaucratic administrators, 64-6; - its early popularity and subsequent failure, 67-8 - - -Games in captivity, their scarcity, 193 - -German officers, their unshaved condition, 19; - their mean suspicions, 110; - their lack of humour, 112; - their duplicity, 121; - solitary example of wit among, 126; - degradation of, under revolution, 233 - -German people, the, psychology in war-time, 91; - its freedom from vindictiveness, 92; - its ignorance of the origin of the war, 96; - its despair at the result, 224; - after the armistice, 248; - German war-poetry considered, 94-6 - -German professor, a, upon the war and the national characteristics, 97, 238 - -German sentries, their courteous demeanour, 33; - their starved condition, 117; - their ubiquity at Mainz, 153; - neglect of duty, 162; - their passion for boxing, 168; - their visions in days to come, 191 - -Gibbs, Mr. Philip, his vivid journalism, 14 - -_Girl on the Stairs, The_, successful operetta at Mainz, 201 - -“Gladstone,” Lieut., as a musical composer, 213 - -Gomorrah, the dispensation of, 87 - -Gosse, Mr. Edmund, quoted, 149 - -Graves, Capt. Robert, his poems a perpetual comfort in the trenches, 9; - his admirable war-poetry, 94 - -_Green Eye of the Little Yellow God, The_, masterpiece of Lieut. - T. Milton Hayes, M.C., 41, 42, 43 - -Guides, the trustworthiness of, in France, 11 - - -Ham, 14 - -Hampstead, home, and beauty, 265 - -Hardy, Mr. Thomas, unwilling sacrifice of his works under fire, 9 - -Harrod’s Stores, its infallibility, 119 - -“Hawkins,” Private, his dangerous passion for cigarettes, 16; - his convenient flesh-wound, 17 - -“Hawkshaw, Silas P.,” Lieut. Milton Hayes’s great creation of, 217 - -Hayes, Lieut. T. Milton, M.C., his personal appearance, 41; - his study of popular taste, 41; - his masterpieces, 41; - his literary methods and artistic imagination, 42; - secret of his greatness, 43; - his exploitation of young love, 44; - his inevitable success after the war, 45; - his theories on the gratification of appetite, 54; - his genial presence in the Alcove, 179; - the Colossus of the Mainz Theatre, 198; - his smile, 198; - his childlike pleasure in his own wit, 199; - his temporary retirement, 205; - his restoration by Sanatogen, 205; - the victim of professional rivalry, 207; - founds the “Buckshees,” 210; - his managerial methods, 212; - his beauty chorus, 214; - his wonderful opera, 216; - himself alone the Arabian bird, 217; - the eternal gratitude of his friends, 221 - -Heine, Heinrich, his bridge at Mainz, 47 - -Hendecourt, capture of, 6 - -Hindenburg, German faith in, 20 - -Hockey in captivity, 195 - -Holzminden, a notoriously bad camp, 120 - -Housman, Mr. A. E., Lieut. Stone’s recitations from, 176 - -Hueffer, Mr. Ford Madox, confiscation of his _Heaven_ by - German officials, 111 - -Humour, German lack of, 112 - -Hunger, a prisoner’s purgatory, 31, 51, 52 - -“Huns,” German distaste for the term, 112 - - -Ill-treatment of English officers in prison-camps, 120; - by incompetent German doctors, 128 - -Imprisonment, effect on the nerves, 138 - -Interpreters, German, their simple gullibility, 29; - their estimate of _John Bull_, 30 - -Irishmen, their vitality in a queue, 61 - - -Jealousy, professional, of rival actors, 202; - its influence on captivity, 203; - its comparison with the hate of nations, 204; - it works like mischief, 208 - -_John Bull_, the London weekly, German interpreter’s witticism concerning, 30 - - -Kaiser, the, his boasted resemblance to Attila, 113; - his continued popularity in Germany, 231; - his desertion, 232; - the scapegoat of his people, 252 - -_Kantine_, the, at Mainz, its uses and abuses, 55, 59, 60; - its supply of text-books, 67; - its consolations and diversions, 145; - its commercial subtlety, 147 - -Karlsruhe, prisoners arrive at, 33; - comparative comfort of, 37 - -_Knave of Diamonds, The_, Lieut. Milton Hayes’s strange theory concerning, 55 - -Köln, the revolution at, 232 - - -Lawn tennis in captivity, 195 - -Lens, alarming reports concerning, 14 - -“Leola, daughter of the Hesperides,” her appearance and its effect, 215 - -Lice, plague of, 31 - -Lille, apprehension regarding, 14 - -Lissauer, his cheap vehemence, 95 - -Literature, its military inconvenience, 8; - its military relation to book-keeping, 65; - its contemptuous ill-treatment by German officers, 126 - -Liver paste, its popularity among prisoners, 60 - -Longworth, Mr. F. Dames-, his epistolary courtesies, 235 - -_Loom of Youth, The_, its length and breadth, 182; - its characteristic language, 182 - -_Lorna Doone_ as a study in the gratification of appetite, 55 - -Louis Napoleon in _La Débâcle_, strange effect upon a hungry prisoner, 54 - -Louvain, commissariat at, 34 - -_Lustige Blätter_, its gory caricatures, 93 - -Lyceum melodrama and the facts of war, 21 - -Lyttelton, Canon the Hon. E., his repugnance to actuality, 174; - his helpful literary criticisms, 235 - - -Maconochie’s beef dripping, 108, 129 - -Mainz, unpleasing prospect of, 45; - doleful arrival at, 46; - architectural features of, 46-47; - the Offizier Kriegsgefangenenlager at, 47; - “shades of the prison-house,” 48; - prisoners’ routine at, 48; - arrival of parcels at, 56; - bombardment of, 123; - inadequate medical service at, 127; - the impregnability of its citadel, 152-71; - revolutionists arrive at, 232; - the armistice at, 246 - -Major, illicit process of a, 215 - -Manicure, its practice in captivity, 150 - -Marchiennes, 31; - commandant at, his strict attention to business, 32 - -Mark, the value of, 58 - -Maupassant, Guy de, 187 - -Medical service, the German, total inadequacy at Mainz, 127 - -Melancholia of captivity, 142 - -Metz, prisoners entrain for, 256 - -Monchy, M.G.C. at, 5, 14, 24 - -Moore, Mr. George, effect of his prose upon a prisoner of war, 38; - his yearning for a new language, 82; - his support expected, 87; - his confessions, 189 - - -Nancy, prisoners at, 257 - -Nichols, Mr. Robert, his fine war-poetry, 95 - -Noreil, capture of, 4 - - -Offensive, the Great (March 21, 1918), 1-17 - -Officers, English, their treatment as prisoners, 118 - -Otto’s Grammars, illicit hoarding of, 67 -_Oxford Book of English Verse_, its preservation from the Germans, 10 - - -Pater, Walter, and the psychology of captivity, 144; - quoted, 149; - Lieut. Stone’s admiration for, 184; - quoted, 188 - -Patriotism denounced by Lieut. Stone under the influence of Rhine wine, 178 - -Paymaster, official activities of, 58, 61 - -Peace, German passion for, 35, 36, 230 - -Perambulation the sole diversion of the prisoner, 196 - -Peronne, 14 - -_Pickwick Papers_, Lieut. Milton Hayes upon, 54 - -Pitt League, the, its foundation by Col. “Westcott,” 71; - its principle of combination, 72; - the origin of its name, 72; - its imperialistic sweep, 73, 74; - its military comprehensiveness, 74; - its success, 76; - its further development as the Pitt Escape League, 166; - its beneficent foundation of the “Alcove,” 173 - -Porter, Mrs. Gene Stratton, efforts of a prisoner - to secure her masterpiece, 50 - -“Pows,” the, concert party at Mainz, 197; - the rousing of its ambition, 200 - -Press, the British, its indefatigable propaganda, 29 - -Priority Pass, the, its conception by Lieut. “Wilkins,” 77; - its philosophy, 78; - its deceptive working, 80 - -Public School Education, its effect on the soul of youth, 148 - -Punch, the gospel of Lieut. Milton Hayes, 213 - - -Queues, their origin and psychology, 58 - - -“Radcliffe,” Lieut., his mastery of the piano, 213 - -“Ragging” the Commandant of Mainz, 123 - -Railway travelling in Germany, its pestilent conditions, 34 - -R.A.M.C., ingenious treatment of bread, 102 - -Rations, poverty of, 50, 51 - -Red Cross Prisoners of War Depôt, its efficiency and worth, 37, 38, 100, 110 - -Reincourt, capture of, 6 - -Respirator, the psychical qualities of a, 1 - -Revolution, the, in Mainz, 232, 236 - -Rhine wine, effect of, upon Lieut. Stone, 175, 185 - -Richards, Mr. Grant, his publisher’s contracts, 183 - -Richardson, Mr. H. H., Lieut. Stone’s enthusiasm for the works of, 184 - -_Romance_, the Lyric Theatre success, Lieut. T. Milton - Hayes’s analysis of, 44 - -Routine of the Gefangenenlager, 48 - -Russia, German theory about, 96 - - -Sanatogen, its effect on Lieut. Milton Hayes, 205 - -Sassoon, Mr. Siegfried, his “In the Pink,” 95; - a poor compliment to, 223 - -Satin-tasso as a resource in captivity, 146 - -Sauerkraut, ubiquity of, 31, 50 - -Scarlet Pimpernel, the, as an example to adventurous prisoners, 166 - -Schopenhauer, Lieut. Stone expounds, 176 - -Schoolmasters, their intellectual mediocrity, 69; - their stock defence, 148; - the long array of, in the _Spectator_, 235 - -Scotsmen, their dilatoriness in queues, 61; - their assistance in Col. Wright’s attempt to escape, 168 - -Secrecy, official regard for, 7 - -Selfridge’s, its efficient service, 119 - -Sentries, German, their unexpected affability, 33; - their starvation, 117 - -Sergeant-Major, alcoholic dignity of an English, 23; - blindness of a German, 31 - -Shakespeare, William, hastily misquoted by a subaltern, 9 - -“Shivers,” the, theatrical company at Mainz, 200; - its beneficent competition, 200 - -Shorthand, the British bureaucratic esteem for, 66 - -_Simplicissimus_, its filthy cartoons, 93 - -Squire, Mr. J. C., his “To a Bull-dog,” 95 - -Starvation, phenomena of, 28, 51, 53, 117; - of Germany, 228 - -St. Leger, the Rev. B. G. Bourchier’s army hut at, 5 - -“Stone,” Lieut., his ready wit, 39; - his fortunate arrival at Mainz, 48; - his sufferings under the Priority Pass system, 80-2; - his opinion of botany as a science, 82; - his share in the vision of a new language, 83; - tackles Capt. Frobisher, 175; - his lecture on the “higher life,” 176; - his brilliant conversation, 184; - effects of Rhine wine upon, 175, 185; - his unrecited poems, 186 - -Swedish drill, British distaste for, 194 - -Swinburne, Algernon Charles, his poems as a covert for propaganda, 125 - -Symons, Mr. Arthur, quoted, 28; - the women of his songs, 189 - - -“Tarrant,” Lieut., his endurance under control, 38; - his asceticism, 38; - his critical sallies, 40; - his self-imposed fast, 40; - providential arrival of, at Mainz, 48; - his invaluable library, 49; - his breakfast hour, 179; - his morning apparel, 180; - his literary exercises, 181; - his accuracy, 182; - his frank opinion of the author’s fiction, 235 - -Tartarin re-embodied in Col. “Westcott,” 73 - -_Tatler_, the, its coy picture-gallery, 5 - -Tchecov, his short stories, 187 - -Theatre, the, at Mainz, closed as a punishment for attempted escapes, 165; - its peaceful penetration, 172; - its excellent shows, 197 - -Thurloe Place, the Good Samaritan of the P.O.W., 107, 109 - -Torquennes, 24 - -Treacle, its value in chocolate _soufflé_, 134 - -Treatment of prisoners, 116 _et seq._ - -_Troubadour, Der_, at Mainz, 254 - - -Verlaine, Paul, 188 - -Vis-en-Artois, 24 - -Vitry, prisoners’ reception at, 26 - - -War-poetry, good and bad, 94 - -War and the politicians, 226 _et seq._ - -Watts-Dunton, Mr. Theodore, compared with Lieut. Stone, 185 - -Waugh, 2nd Lieut. Alec R., his dogmatic statements on men and matters, 1-267; - his abnormal correspondence, 14; - his dogged somnolence, 15; - his first meeting with Milton Hayes, 41; - his ambitions for a future career, and their reception by Authority, 64; - his apocalyptic vision of a new language, 83; - his imaginary acquisition of a Priority Pass, 86; - his chastened disillusionment, 90; - his recognition of his own good fortune, 92; - his selection as cook to the mess, 130; - his culinary prowess, 132-6; - his experiment on the school organ, 157; - his contented hours in the Alcove, 186; - his love of the years before he was born, 189; - his castigation by a body of bureaucrats, 209; - an unwarrantable compliment to, 223; - his apostacy as a rebel, 234; - German adjutant’s literary judgment of, 235; - his return home, 265 - -Waugh, Mr. Arthur, his paternal benevolence, 266 - -Waugh, Mrs. Arthur, her Scottish descent, 261 - -Weather, the, effect upon a prisoner’s spirits, 50 - -Webster, John, the favourite quotation of prisoners of war, 142 - -Wells, Mr. H. G., Lieut. Stone discusses, 184 - -“Westcott,” Col., his Dickensian qualities, 69; - his relation to the music-hall stage, 69; - his soldierly grip, 70; - his hatred of individualism, 70; - his bravery, 71; - his foundation of the Pitt League, 71; - his opening speech, 71; - his sense of humour, 72; - his likeness to Tartarin, 73; - his indomitable energy, 75; - his affection for his own scheme, 75; - as Prime Minister, 76; - his encouragement of honest ambition, 84; - his “dream within a dream,” 89; - the popularity of his speeches, 130; - his interest in attempted escapes, 155; - the Gallio of frivolous amusement, 193 - -_Whitest Man I know, The_, eminent monologue by - Lieut. T. Milton Hayes, M.C., 41 - -“Wilkins,” Lieut., his ingenious conception of the Priority Pass, 79 - -Woman, her ruling passion for self-advertisement, 170 - -Wood-carving as a resource in captivity, 145 - -“Wright,” Col., his valiant attempt to escape, 166; - his choice of daylight, 166; - his unfortunate intrusion upon a German amour, 169; - the result, 170; - his disappearance from Mainz, 171 - -Zola, Émile, _La Terre_ in the dugout, 10; - _La Débâcle_ as an irritant to hunger, 53 - - * * * * * - - _BY THE SAME AUTHOR_ - - THE LOOM OF YOUTH - - BY - - ALEC WAUGH - - NINTH EDITION TWENTIETH THOUSAND - - GRANT RICHARDS, LTD. - - - _SOME PRESS OPINIONS_ - - -_MR. J. C. SQUIRE in Land and Water._ - -“The difficulties of writing good school stories are matters of -commonplace observation. The boy cannot see everything, and, as a rule, -cannot write. The man forgets much and sentimentalises much. The dilemma -will never be completely avoided. But Mr. Alec Waugh’s ‘The Loom of -Youth’ is a remarkable attempt.... At his best, he manages his material -like an old hand. It is a most astonishing feat.” - - -_CAPT. C. K. SCOTT-MONCRIEFF in The New Witness._ - -“Mr. Waugh has told us a story, the story of Gordon Carruthers’ life at -Fernhurst.... I look forward confidently to see him come to grips with -the army as thoroughly as he has done with the schools. This year has -been big with futures, among which that of Robert Nichols seems -incomparably to outshine all the rest. But Mr. Waugh is an author to be -diligently followed and enjoyed with delight.” - - -_MR. GERALD GOULD in The New Statesman._ - -“For a writer of any age ‘The Loom of Youth’ would be a remarkable -achievement; for a boy of seventeen it is more.... And the language is -fresh and real, the talk is boys’ talk, such as only some one fresh from -it could render.... Difficulties are overcome in two ways--firstly by -sheer sound psychology, by making the characters so interesting that it -is their minds, not their external activities, that we bother about.... -I want, in conclusion, to recommend this book for its courage as well as -for its interest. One main problem of school life is the moral one, -which most writers shirk, or if they treat it at all, treat -sentimentally and timidly and obliquely. Mr. Waugh goes right to the -point.” - - -_MR. RALPH STRAUS in The Bystander._ - -“You feel that all the boys at Fernhurst ... are real people, not the -agreeable caricatures, for instance, of ‘The Hill’; and in the Games -Master who is so pleasantly nicknamed ‘The Bull’ Mr. Waugh has created a -character which epitomises the whole Public School system.... ‘The Loom -of Youth’ will take its place amongst the few first-class school stories -which have been published this century.” - - -_MR. E. B. OSBORN in The Morning Post._ - -“‘The Loom of Youth’ has some of the faults of the modern realistic -story of Public School life. But these faults are insignificant in -comparison with its unusual merits, chief of which is the sharp -actuality of its characterisation.... The boys and masters we meet are -of reasonable flesh and blood; of the latter ‘The Bull,’ once an England -forward and now games master, is the dominant personality.” - - -_MR. J. A. FORT in The Spectator._ - -“The work, which seems to me one of extraordinary power, seems to me -also an honest attempt to ‘tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing -but the truth,’ as the author himself saw it. I think that the writer -is, as a matter of fact, a very good witness in regard to certain phases -of Public School life, and the publication of his book is, I believe, an -event of considerable importance in the educational world.” - - -_MR. EDWIN PUGH in The Bookman._ - -“In ‘The Loom of Youth’ we have the truth presented with austere -sincerity, with dignity and restraint.... Indeed this first book is in -itself a fine achievement, well conceived, well done in every way, and -wholly praiseworthy, alike for the excellence of its writing and the -worthiness of its purpose.” - - -_MR. H. W. MASSINGHAM in The Nation._ - -“I have read few books that have interested me more than Mr. Waugh’s -‘Loom of Youth.’ It is in one respect an almost miraculous -production.... It is a most straightforward account; it cannot have been -invented, and yet I thought it sufficiently delicate.” - - -_Punch._ - -“Prophecy is dangerous; but from a writer who has proved so brilliantly -that, for once, _jeunesse peut_, one seems justified in hoping that -enlarged experience will result in work of the highest quality.” - -_The Times._ - -“‘The Loom of Youth’ is a most promising book. Mr. Alec Waugh has -something definite to say, the ability to say it, and an apprehension of -the subtler causes of action and inaction.” - - -_The Daily Telegraph._ - -“An altogether _remarkable book_.” - - -_The Spectator._ - -“We ought to congratulate his old school on having produced a new author -of such marked ability.” - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Prisoners of Mainz, by Alec Waugh - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PRISONERS OF MAINZ *** - -***** This file should be named 54203-0.txt or 54203-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/4/2/0/54203/ - -Produced by Chuck Greif, MWS and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions 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/license - - -Title: The Prisoners of Mainz - -Author: Alec Waugh - -Illustrator: R. T. Roussel - -Release Date: February 20, 2017 [EBook #54203] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PRISONERS OF MAINZ *** - - - - -Produced by Chuck Greif, MWS and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - -</pre> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="" -style="border: 2px black solid;margin:auto auto;max-width:50%; -padding:1%;"> -<tr><td> - -<p class="c"><a href="#CONTENTS">Contents.</a></p> -<p class="c"> -<a href="#INDEX">Index.</a></p> - -<p class="c"><a href="#LIST_OF_ILLUSTRATIONS">List of Illustrations</a><br /> <span class="nonvis">(In certain versions of this etext [in certain browsers] -clicking on the image -will bring up a larger version.)</span></p> - -<p class="c">(etext transcriber's note)</p></td></tr> -</table> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="306" height="500" alt="Image -of the bookcover is unavailable." /> -</div> - -<p class="c">THE PRISONERS OF MAINZ</p> - -<div class="figcenter"><a name="front" id="front"></a> -<a href="images/i_frontis_lg.png"> -<img src="images/i_frontis_sml.png" width="244" height="301" alt="Image unavailable: THE DOOM OF YOUTH. - -[Frontispiece." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">THE DOOM OF YOUTH. -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 20%;">[Frontispiece.</span> - -</span> -</div> - -<h1> -THE PRISONERS OF<br /> -MAINZ</h1> - -<p class="c"> -BY<br /> -ALEC WAUGH<br /> -<br /> -<small>AUTHOR OF<br /> -“THE LOOM OF YOUTH,” “RESENTMENT POEMS,” ETC.</small><br /> -<br /><br /> -<small>WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY</small><br /> -CAPTAIN R. T. ROUSSEL<br /> -<small>(P.O.W. MAINZ)</small><br /> -<br /><br /> -LONDON<br /> -CHAPMAN AND HALL, <span class="smcap">Ltd.</span><br /> -1919<br /> -<br /><small> -<span class="smcap">Printed in Great Britain by<br /> -Richard Clay & Sons, Limited</span>,<br /> -<small>BRUNSWICK ST., STAMFORD ST., S.E. I,<br /> -AND BUNGAY, SUFFOLK.</small><br /></small> -</p> - -<h2>A BALLADE OF DEDICATION<br /> -TO MY FELLOW-GEFANGENER<br /><br /> -A. H. CHANDLER</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Fast locked within the citadel,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>We’ve watched the hours of eight months fare</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Slowly towards the evening bell,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And its cracked summons “clear the square.”</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>We’ve watched the stately barges bear</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Seawards their teeming casks of wine,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>As we sat in the alcove there,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Sipping the vintage of the Rhine.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Ausgabe queues, we knew them well;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Those thin lines straggling out like hair,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Receding from an open cell,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And finishing, the Lord knows where;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And we have felt barbed wire tear</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Our breeches’ loose and draggled twine;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>But we’ve known hours less foul than fair,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Sipping the vintage of the Rhine.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>We could forget the sauerkraut smell,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Forget our weariness and share</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>The phantasies that flocked pell mell</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>About our unreal world; and there</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Across the thick, smoke-laden air</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Our loom of dreams was woven fine;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>We tracked illusion to its lair,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Sipping the vintage of the Rhine.</i><br /></span> - -<span class="i0"> <br /></span> -<span class="i8">ENVOI<br /></span> -<span class="i0"> <br /></span> - -<span class="i0"><i>Archie, we neither know nor care</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>What waits for you, what fate is mine.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>This has been ours—to be friends there,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Sipping the vintage of the Rhine.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i12"><i>A. W.</i><br /></span> -</div> - -<p class="hang"> -<i>Boulogne,<br /> -December 4th, 1918.</i><br /> -</p></div></div> - -<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> -<tr><th class="c" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</a></th></tr> -<tr><td> </td><td class="rt"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top">THE GREAT OFFENSIVE</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_001">1</a></td></tr> - -<tr><th class="c" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</a></th></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">ON THE WAY TO THE RHINE</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_018">18</a></td></tr> - -<tr><th class="c" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</a></th></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">KARLSRUHE AND MILTON HAYES</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_037">37</a></td></tr> - -<tr><th class="c" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</a></th></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">THE HUNGRY DAYS</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_046">46</a></td></tr> - -<tr><th class="c" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</a></th></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">THE PITT LEAGUE</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_063">63</a></td></tr> - -<tr><th class="c" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</a></th></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">THE GERMAN ATTITUDE</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_091">91</a></td></tr> - -<tr><th class="c" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</a></th></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">PARCELS</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_100">100</a></td></tr> - -<tr><th class="c" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</a></th></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">OUR GENERAL TREATMENT</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_116">116</a></td></tr> - -<tr><th class="c" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</a></th></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">THE DAILY ROUND</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_129">129</a></td></tr> - -<tr><th class="c" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</a></th></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">HOW WE DID NOT ESCAPE</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_152">152</a></td></tr> - -<tr><th class="c" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</a></th></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">THE ALCOVE</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_172">172</a></td></tr> - -<tr><th class="c" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII</a></th></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">HOW WE AMUSED OURSELVES</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_193">193</a></td></tr> - -<tr><th class="c" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII</a></th></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">ARMISTICE DAYS</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_222">222</a></td></tr> - -<tr><th class="c" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV</a></th></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">FREEDOM</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_246">246</a></td></tr> -<tr><td> </td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#INDEX">INDEX</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_267">267</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<h2><a name="LIST_OF_ILLUSTRATIONS" id="LIST_OF_ILLUSTRATIONS"></a>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> -<tr><td> </td><td class="rt"><small><i>To face page</i></small></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#front">THE DOOM OF YOUTH</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#front"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_016">“AT SEVEN O’CLOCK THE GERMANS CAME OVER”</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_016">16</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_048">OUR DAILY ROLL</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_048">48</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_056">THE ‘KANTINE’ AT MAINZ</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_056">56</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_062">THE QUEUE OUTSIDE THE PAYMASTER’S OFFICE</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_062">62</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_104">A PRISON CELL</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_104">104</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_162">A GALLANT ATTEMPT TO ESCAPE</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_162">162</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_172">THE BILLIARD-ROOM AT MAINZ</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_172">172</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_194">OUR PRISON SQUARE</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_194">194</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_196">“FIVE HUNDRED ODD OFFICERS WALKING ROUND THE SQUARE”</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_196">196</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_214">OUR LEADING LADY</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_214">214</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_218">LIEUT. MILTON HAYES AS “SILAS P. HAWKSHAW”</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_218">218</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_001" id="page_001"></a>{1}</span></p> - -<h1>THE PRISONERS OF MAINZ</h1> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I<br /><br /> -<small>THE GREAT OFFENSIVE</small></h2> - -<h3>§ 1</h3> - -<p class="r"> -<i>March 21st, 1918.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> small box respirator, like the thirty-nine articles of the Faith, -should be taken on trust; one is quite prepared to believe in its -efficiency. Countless Base instructors have extolled it, countless memos -from Division have confirmed their panegyrics; and with these -credentials one carries it on one’s chest in a perfect faith; but one -has no wish to put its merits to the test. No one if he can help it -wishes to have his face surrounded by elastic and india-rubber, and his -nose clamped viciously by bent iron; and for that reason my chief memory -of March 21st was the prolonged discomfort of a gas-mask.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_002" id="page_002"></a>{2}</span></p> - -<p>For from the moment that the barrage opened at 5 a.m. the air was full -of the insidious smell of gas. Masks were clapped on, and thus hooded -the machine-gunners fumbled desperately in search of stoppages; it was -an uncomfortable morning.</p> - -<p>Being stationed about two miles north of the left flank of the German -attack, it was for us a much more comfortable morning than that spent by -most of those south of Arras. For when the mist began to rise, it -revealed no phantom figures; we did not find ourselves encircled, and -outflanked, with the cheerful alternatives of a perpetual rest where we -stood or of an indefinite sojourn on the wrong side of the line. -Everything presented a very orderly appearance. Far away on the right -was the dull noise of guns, but over the whole of the immediate front -spread out the peaceful prospect of a programme of trench routine.</p> - -<p>“Seems as if Jerry weren’t coming over after all,” said the section -corporal.</p> - -<p>“Looks like it,” I said.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_003" id="page_003"></a>{3}</span></p> - -<p>“Then I suppose as we’d better clean things up a bit, Sir.”</p> - -<p>“It would be as well.”</p> - -<p>And the half-section settled down to the usual work of cleaning -themselves, their guns, and their position. The infantry on the right -were even more resigned to the uneventful.</p> - -<p>“This ’ere offensive was all wind up, Sir,” said the man at the strombos -form, “they thought we was gettin’ a bit slack, I suppose, so they -thought this scare ’ud smarten us up a bit; but I knew it all along, -Sir; I’m too old a soldier to be taken in by that.”</p> - -<p>The runner from Battalion, however, brought quite a different story.</p> - -<p>“Been an attack all along the line, Arras to St. Quentin, but it’s been -broken up absolutely; never even got the front line.”</p> - -<p>The man at the strombos form shifted suspiciously.</p> - -<p>“They not bin trying to come over ’ere. I never seen no Germans,” which -was not<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_004" id="page_004"></a>{4}</span> surprising considering that from where he stood he could not -see the front line at all.</p> - -<p>“No,” he went on, “there’s bin no offensive, and there won’t be one -neither. It’s all a wind up.”</p> - -<p>At any rate, whether there had been an attempted attack or not, it -seemed quite clear that it had not got very far. With that comforting -certainty, I returned to the position, and having seen that the guns -were clean, descended into the dugout and went to sleep.</p> - -<p>About two hours later a perspiring runner arrived. He was quite out of -breath from dodging whizzbangs, and was in consequence incapable of -logical statement. He said something about “Bullecourt.” The chit he -brought explained.</p> - -<p class="c"> -“<span class="smcap">Bullecourt, Ecoust, Noreil are in the<br /> -Hands of the Enemy</span>”<br /> -</p> - -<p>It took at least five minutes to realise what this meant. To think that -they had got as far as that. It had seemed so delight<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_005" id="page_005"></a>{5}</span>fully safe. One -had walked along the Ecoust road in daylight, and there was a canteen at -Noreil. And then that glorious dugout in Railway Reserve that we had -covered with green canvas and festooned with semi-nudities from the -<i>Tatler</i>, to think of some lordly Prussian straddling across the table, -swigging champagne. It was an unspeakable liberty....</p> - -<p>And then a little tardily followed the thought that Ecoust was not so -many miles from Monchy, and that if the Germans had got as far as that -on the right, there was very little reason why they should not do the -same to us—an unpleasant consideration. But still everything seemed so -delightfully quiet. Only an occasional whizzbang, or four—five—no one -would have thought there was a war on. Still Ecoust was not so very far -off; our parish had provided funds for a church army hut at St. Leger. -They had been collecting for it hard when I had been on leave. Well, -that must have gone west by now....<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_006" id="page_006"></a>{6}</span></p> - -<p>And at the top of the dugout I could hear the runner gradually -recovering his breath and explaining the strategic situation in spasms.</p> - -<p>“You see, I heard the captin say to the adjutant, ‘Jones,’ he says, ‘the -Jerrys’ got as far as Bullecourt,’ and when I heard that ... well ... I -said to myself ... thank ’eavens I wasn’t there.”</p> - -<p>“And you was there two months ago, Kid.”</p> - -<p>“Where I was two months ago, as you say, and then I heard the captin -say....”</p> - -<p>The remaining reflection was inaudible.</p> - -<p> </p> - -<p>The next morning passed very quietly, so quietly that we had almost -forgotten the rumours of the preceding day. The limber corporal had -assured the ration party that there had been a counter-attack with -tanks, and that not only had Bullecourt been retaken, but Hendecourt and -Riencourt as well. There seemed no cause for panic. The rum had come up -as usual, and that was the main thing. After an afternoon of -belt-cleaning<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_007" id="page_007"></a>{7}</span> the subsection arranged itself as usual into night -reliefs, and then just before midnight came the news that the Division -was evacuating to the “third” line.</p> - -<p>Whenever the military decide on a sudden action, they impart the -information in a delightfully inconsequent way. For instance, on the eve -of the Cambrai show, orders were sent round that in the case of an enemy -withdrawal limbers would proceed to Hendecourt along the road in the map -square U 29 B, and this request was then qualified by the statement, “It -is no good looking for roads; there are none.”</p> - -<p>On this occasion the message was equally vague. It stated that the front -system would be evacuated at 3 a.m., and ordered that all guns, tripods, -belt-boxes, and ammunition would be immediately moved and stacked at the -ration dump pending the arrival of limbers. The chit then added, -“Secrecy is absolutely essential. On no account must the men know -anything of this.” The reasons on which the authorities<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_008" id="page_008"></a>{8}</span> based their -expectations that the men would move all their impedimenta to a ration -dump, and yet remain in complete ignorance of the operation, are -unfathomable. At any rate their hopes were unrealised. At the first -mention of dismounted guns, Private Hawkins had sniffed the secret.</p> - -<p>“Got to shift, ’ave we, Sir? Then I suppose we’re going to have a war -too, aren’t we, Sir?”</p> - -<p>“I should not be surprised,” I told him, and went below to superintend -the packing of my kit. It was no easy matter. Things accumulate in the -line; I always went up the line with a modestly filled pack, but by the -time I came down, it needed a mailbag to hold the books and magazines -that had gradually gathered round me, and after a fortnight in the same -dugout my kit was in no condition for emergency transportation.</p> - -<p>My batman was examining it with a sorrowful face.</p> - -<p>“You’ll ’ave to dump most of these books, Sir.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_009" id="page_009"></a>{9}</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, but surely we can get some of them down?”</p> - -<p>“Then you’ll have to dump those boots, Sir, and that blanket. Can’t take -the lot, Sir.”</p> - -<p>It was no use to argue with him. The batman’s orders are far more law -than a mandate from Brigade. The Brigadier is merely content to issue -orders; batmen see that theirs are carried out. There was nothing for it -but to dump the books, and I looked sadly at the considerable collection -that the mails of the last fourteen days had brought.</p> - -<p>“Have they all got to go?”</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">’</span>Fraid so, Sir.”</p> - -<p>“What, all my pretty chickens, at one fell swoop?”</p> - -<p>Private Warren eyed me stolidly.</p> - -<p>“Well, Sir, I might manage two, Sir, but no more.”</p> - -<p>I ran a pathetic eye over them. There were several I particularly wanted -to save; there were two novels by Hardy, Robert Graves’s new book of -Poems, <i>Regiment of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_010" id="page_010"></a>{10}</span> Women</i>, a battered copy of <i>La Terre</i>, <i>The Oxford -Book of Verse</i>, <i>The Stucco House</i>. After a moment’s hesitation, the -last two were saved for further odysseys; there was just room in a spare -pocket for <i>Fairies and Fusiliers</i>; the rest would have to stay to -welcome the Teuton.</p> - -<p>At last all the equipment of a machine-gun section had been carted away. -I took one turn round the dugouts to see that no incriminating document -remained. The dugout looked hospitably clean; all the delicacies of -handing over had been observed, but as there would be up one to receive -the relieving party, manners demanded some sort of “Salve”; and so, -tearing from a notebook a sheet of paper, I scrawled across it in large -letters, CHEERIOH, and pinned it over the entrance of my deserted home.</p> - -<h3>§ 2</h3> - -<p class="r"> -<i>March 28th, 1918.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Of course the limbers never turned up. For two months without the least -incon<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_011" id="page_011"></a>{11}</span>venience from German artillery they had come up to the ration dump -every night, but on this particular night they felt sure it would arouse -suspicions, and so a guide was sent instead. And in France there are -only two sorts of guides. There is the guide who does not know the way -and owns up to it, and there is the guide who does not know the way and -pretends he does. There are no others. Luckily ours came under the -former category.</p> - -<p>“You see, Sir, I’ve only bin from Headquarters once and that was by day, -and I’m not too sure of the way.... I’ve only been ’ere once and -that....”</p> - -<p>Which was a pretty clear sign that a compass bearing would be hardly -less reliable. We dumped most of our spare kit in the river, and set -off. It is wonderful how disorderly any movement of troops appears by -night. Actually it was a most methodical withdrawal, but in its progress -it looked pitifully like a rout. The road seemed littered with cast-off -equipment,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_012" id="page_012"></a>{12}</span> ammunition, packs and bombs; dumps were going up all round. -Innumerable Highlanders had lost their companies; nobody seemed to know -where he was going or to care particularly whether he ever arrived. A -subsection of fifteen men straggled into an echelon formation covering -as many yards. It appeared an absolute certainty that dawn and the -Germans would find us still trailing helplessly along the road.</p> - -<p>At last, however, came the loved jingle of harness, and the sound of -restive mules. We heaved packs and baggages on a limber, and more -cheerfully resumed our odyssey.</p> - -<p>This cheerfulness considerably diminished when the section found that -our new positions were two hundred yards from the road, and that a -hundred boxes of S.A.A. had to be stacked in half an hour. But -eventually peace was restored to Israel, and by the time that the -morning broke, the section was fairly comfortably lodged in some disused -German dugouts.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_013" id="page_013"></a>{13}</span></p> - -<p>There followed four very lazy days. The two subsections had been -amalgamated, and with my section officer Evans, I spent most of the day -working out elaborate barrage charts in case of a break through. Evans -had recently been on a course at Camières where they had given him an -enormous blue sheet which was warranted proof against geography. Evans -regarded it as a sort of charm.</p> - -<p>“You see, with this,” he said, “you can get on to any target you like -within thirty seconds.”</p> - -<p>And it was certainly an ingenious toy, but as far as we were concerned, -it did not accelerate the conclusion of the war. It required a level -table, numerous drawing-pins, carbon papers, faultless draughtsmanship -and much else with which we were unequipped: finally, when occasion -demanded we resorted to the obsolete method of aiming at the required -target.</p> - -<p>Of the actual war little information was gleaned. The limber corporal -brought each<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_014" id="page_014"></a>{14}</span> evening the account of wondrous sallies and excursions. -Lens was purported to have fallen, and an enveloping attack was in -progress further North. Lille was only a matter of days. And then on the -night of the 27th there arrived the mail and papers of the preceding -seven days. It came in an enormous burst of epistolary shrapnel. -Personally I received thirty letters and five parcels. We sat up reading -them till midnight, and then in a contented frame of mind we turned to -the papers. It was a bit of a shock. We had hardly imagined that there -was a war on any front except our own. We had expected to see headlines -talking of nothing but the Fall of Bullecourt and our masterly -evacuation of Monchy. We had expected to see our exploits extolled by -Philip Gibbs; instead of that they filled a very insignificant corner. -It was all Bapaume, Ham, Peronne. We were merely a false splash of a -wave that already had gone home. It was a blow to our self-respect. -There was also no news of any enveloping<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_015" id="page_015"></a>{15}</span> manœuvres round Lille. The -Germans appeared to be doing all that.</p> - -<p>Evans looked across at me dolefully.</p> - -<p>“Do you think the men had better know anything about that?” he said.</p> - -<p>“Shouldn’t think so. By the way, when are we being relieved?”</p> - -<p>“The sooner the better. There is going to be a war on soon.”</p> - -<p>And the memory of the thirty letters and five parcels thinned.</p> - -<p>“Oh, well,” I said, “I’m going to bed.”</p> - -<p> </p> - -<p>My sleep did not last long. Within an hour Evans was shouting in my ear.</p> - -<p>“Hell of a strafe upstairs. I think they’re coming over.”</p> - -<p>And indeed there was a strafe. Verey lights were going up all along the -front. Three dumps were hit in as many minutes, from the right came the -continual crump of “minnies.” Luckily we were in the shelter between the -barrage on the eighteen-pounders and the barrage on the front lines. -The<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_016" id="page_016"></a>{16}</span> only shells that came disconcertingly close were those from one of -our own heavies that was dropping short, like a man out of breath.</p> - -<p>At seven o’clock the Germans came over, and by twelve we were being -escorted to Berlin.</p> - -<p>Our actual engagement resembles so closely that of every other -unfortunate during those sorry days that it deserves no detailed -description. The only original incident came at about nine o’clock when -I discovered the perfidy of the section cook. I had sent him down to -fetch some breakfast, and he returned smoking triumphantly a gold-tipped -cigarette that he could have obtained from only one source. Perhaps this -is what those mean who maintain that in the moment of action one sees -the naked truth of the human soul. At any rate it stripped Private -Hawkins pretty effectively. No doubt this kleptomania had been a -practice with him for a long time, and at this critical moment I suppose -he saw no reason why he should conceal it: “much is forgiven to a man -condemned.” He literally flaunted theft.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_016fp_lg.png"> -<img src="images/i_016fp_sml.png" width="273" height="292" alt="Image unavailable: “AT SEVEN O’CLOCK THE GERMANS CAME OVER.” - -[To face page 16." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">“AT SEVEN O’CLOCK THE GERMANS CAME OVER.” -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 20%;">[To face page 16.</span> - -</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_017" id="page_017"></a>{17}</span></p> - -<p>“Hawkins,” I said quietly, “you’ll go back to the gun-team to-morrow. -We’ll find another cook.”</p> - -<p>“Very good, Sir.”</p> - -<p>And almost instantly the order was given a divine confirmation in the -form of the cushiest of flesh wounds in Private Hawkins’s right arm.</p> - -<p>After a second’s gasp he bounded down the trench.</p> - -<p>“A blighty, Sir,” he cried, “a blighty. No, Sir, don’t want to be bound -up or anything. They’ll do that at the dressing station. I’m orf.”</p> - -<p>Visions had risen before him of white sheets and whiter nurses. He saw -himself being petted and made much of, the hero of the village; and as -the Germans slowly filtered round the flank, Private Hawkins rushed down -the communication trench, resolved to put at all cost the dressing -station between them and him. He succeeded. Probably it was the one time -he had ever tried to do anything in his life.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_018" id="page_018"></a>{18}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II<br /><br /> -<small>ON THE WAY TO THE RHINE</small></h2> - -<h3>§ 1</h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">At</span> the back of the mind there always exists a sort of unconscious -conception of the various contingencies that may lie round the corner. -It is usually unformulated, but it is there none the less, and at the -moment when I was captured I had a very real if confused idea of what -was going to happen to me.</p> - -<p>The idea was naturally confused because the etiquette of surrender is -not included in Field Service Regulations, and as it is not with that -intention that one originally sets out for France, the matter had not -bulked largely in the imagination. But the terrorist had supplied these -deficiencies, and he had made it hard to rid oneself of the supposition -that one had only to cross a few<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_019" id="page_019"></a>{19}</span> yards of unowned hollows to find -oneself in a world of new values and formulæ. As a dim recollection of -some previous existence I had carried the image of strange brutalities -and assaults, of callous, domineering Prussians, of Brigadiers with -Sadistic temperament. I was fully prepared to be relieved of my watch -and cigarette-case, and to be prodded in the back by my escort’s -bayonet.</p> - -<p>Instead of that, however, he presented me with a cigar and pretended to -understand my French, which is on the whole the most insidious of all -forms of compliment.</p> - -<p>There was also a complete absence of that machine-perfect discipline of -which we had heard so much. Several of the German officers had not -shaved, men stood to the salute with their heels wide apart, and the -arrival of a silver epaulette was not the sign for any Oriental -prostrations. Beyond the fact that the men wore grey uniforms and smoked -ungainly pipes, they strangely resembled an English battalion that was -carrying on a minor local engagement.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_020" id="page_020"></a>{20}</span></p> - -<p>The authorities who interviewed us and confiscated our correspondence -displayed the characteristic magnanimity of the captor; after enlarging -on the individual merits of the Entente soldier, they proceeded to -explain why they themselves were winning the war.</p> - -<p>“It’s staff work that counts,” they said. “We’ve got unity of command; -Hindenburg. You’ve got two generals, Haig and Foch.”</p> - -<p>Indeed, everywhere behind the line there was intense gratification, but -not so much of the victory-lust that must have inflamed them in the -early months of the war, but of the weariness that four years had -brought, and of the thought that the close of so much misery was near. -Actual successes (so it appeared) were only the means to an end—it was -peace that mattered.</p> - -<p>All this was very different from what I had expected. On the way to -Battalion Headquarters I had visioned an inquisitional -cross-examination. I had expected to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_021" id="page_021"></a>{21}</span> be questioned by some fierce-jawed -general, who would demand the secrets of the General Staff, which I -should heroically refuse. Then he would call for the thumbscrew and the -rack, for the cat-o’-nine-tails and the red-hot iron. “Will you speak -now?” he would hiss. But I should remain as ever steadfastly loyal. The -entire scenic panorama of the <i>Private of the Buffs</i> had swept before my -eye; only a spasm of optimism had changed the crisis. Just at the moment -when I was being led out to be shot, the general would suddenly relent. -His voice would shake, and a quiver would run down his massive frame.</p> - -<p>“No, no!” he would say, with out-stretched hand. “Spare him! He’s only a -boy, and besides he’s a soldier and, damn it! that’s all that I am -myself.”</p> - -<p>Actuality, however, refused to reflect the Lyceum stage. The man with -the records viewed my presence with complete equanimity.</p> - -<p>“Oh, well,” he said, “it’s no good my<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_022" id="page_022"></a>{22}</span> asking you any questions. You’d -be sure to answer them wrong, and besides, I don’t think you could tell -me so very much. Let’s see, you’re in the —— Division, aren’t you? -Well, you’ve got the following battalions with you.”</p> - -<p>And he proceeded to give gratuitous information on the most intricate -points of organisation and establishment, all the hundred and one little -things that had been so laboriously tabulated before the Sandhurst -exams., and had afterwards been so speedily forgotten. He knew the -number of stretcher-bearers in a battalion, the number of G.S. wagons at -brigade, and the quantity of red tabs at division. Any one possessing a -quarter of his knowledge could have had a staff appointment for the -asking.</p> - -<p>“Not bad,” he laughed.</p> - -<p>It was now two o’clock in the afternoon, and since the barrage had -opened at three in the morning, none of us had sat down for a moment. We -began to entertain hopes of lunch.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_023" id="page_023"></a>{23}</span></p> - -<p>“Where are we bound for?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“Douai.”</p> - -<p>“But we don’t march there to-day, do we?”</p> - -<p>“If you can,” he said cheerfully. “But it’s about twenty kilos, and by -the time you’ve got to Vitry you probably won’t be sorry to have a -rest.”</p> - -<p>The prospect of a twenty-kilometre march along the unspeakable French -roads was anything but encouraging. It was drizzling slightly, and there -seemed no likelihood of getting any food. In a sad silence we waited, -while the scattered groups of prisoners were collected into a party -sufficiently large to be moved off together.</p> - -<p>Proceedings were at this point considerably delayed by a company -sergeant-major of the Blankshires who had spent his last moments of -liberty near the rum jar; and under its influence he could not rid -himself of the idea that he was still in charge of a parade. Nothing -would induce him to fall in in the ranks. He persisted in standing<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_024" id="page_024"></a>{24}</span> on a -bank, from which he directed operations in bucolic spasms, meanwhile -treating the Germans with the benevolent patronage that he had been wont -to display before the newly-joined subaltern. It was the one flash of -humour that that grey afternoon provided.</p> - -<p>At last enough stragglers had dribbled in, six officers and about a -hundred and twenty men, and the march back began.</p> - -<p>Nothing could exceed the depression of that evening. The rain began to -fall heavily, and through its dim sheets peered the mournful eyes of -ruined villages. We marched in silence; Vis-en-Artois, Dury, Torquennes, -one by one they were passed, the landmarks we had once picked out from -the Monchy heights. A stage of exhaustion had been reached when movement -became mechanical. For twelve hours we had had no food, and no rest for -at least sixteen, and to this physical weariness was added the -depression that the bleak French landscape never fails to evoke—the -grey<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_025" id="page_025"></a>{25}</span> stretches of rolling ground unrelieved by colour; the -dead-straight roads lined by tree-stumps, the broken homesteads; and to -all this was again added the cumulative helplessness that the events of -the day had roused; the knowledge of the ignominy of one’s position, and -the uncertainty of what was to come.</p> - -<p>Gradually the succession of broken houses yielded to whole but deserted -villages; and these woke even more the sense of loneliness, of -nostalgia. Formerly, on the way back from the line, there was nothing so -cheering as to see through the night the first signs of civilisation. -Then they were to the imagination as kindly hands welcoming it back to -the joys from which it had been exiled. But now the shadowy arms of a -distant windmill only served to increase the feeling of banishment and -separation. Behind us we could hear the dull roll of guns, we could see -the flares of the Verey lights curving against the sky; and these seemed -nearer happiness than the untouched barns.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_026" id="page_026"></a>{26}</span></p> - -<p>At last towards ten o’clock we reached Vitry and were herded into an -open cage. The whole surface of it was a liquid slime, round which men -were moving, trying to keep warm. Sleep there was impossible. But at any -rate there was something to eat, a cup of coffee, a quarter of a loaf of -bread. The German officer received us as a hotel-keeper receives guests -for whom he has no beds.</p> - -<p>“I am very sorry, gentlemen,” he said; “but you’re only here for one -night. But I think I might be able to find you a little room in the hut -for the wounded.”</p> - -<p>And so tired were we that there was pleasure in the mere prospect of a -roof; and on a floor covered with lousy straw we passed the night in -snatches of sleep, disturbed every moment by the tossing of cramped -limbs, and by the presence of muddy boots driven against one’s face, and -brawny Highlanders sprawling across one’s chest. But in that state of -exhaustion these troubles were remote—for a while at<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_027" id="page_027"></a>{27}</span> any rate we could -be still; and in the waking moments there lay no venom even in the -recurring thought that on the next morning we should have to begin our -march afresh.</p> - -<h3>§ 2</h3> - -<p>At Douai we spent four days of incorrigible prolixity in a small house -behind the bank. There was absolutely nothing to do. We had no books: we -could not write. There was no chess-board, and the only pack of cards -was two aces short. All we could do was to sleep spasmodically, and try -not to remember that we were hungry.</p> - -<p>It was an impossible task. There was nothing else to think about. There -was no chance of forgetting how little we had had for breakfast. Slowly -we dragged from meal to meal.</p> - -<p>For breakfast we got a cup of coffee made from chestnuts, and an eighth -of a loaf of bread. For lunch there was a bowl of vegetable soup. For -supper another cup<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_028" id="page_028"></a>{28}</span> of coffee, and another eighth of a loaf. Each -morning there was an infinitesimal issue of jam. That comprised our -entire ration.</p> - -<p>We also had nothing to smoke.</p> - -<p>There was nothing for it but to lie on our beds, with every road of -thought leading to the same gate. One remembered the most minute details -of dinners enjoyed on leave. A steaming array of visionary dishes passed -continually before the eyes. One thought of the tins of unwanted bully -stacked at the foot of dugouts. And for myself there was the bitter -recollection of three untouched parcels that I had received on the eve -of capture.</p> - -<p>“To think of it,” I said, “a whole haggis, two cakes, four tins of -salmon!”</p> - -<p>“Appalling!” echoed the others.</p> - -<p>“And to think that the Jerrys have got it!”</p> - -<p>“Don’t talk about it, man; let’s forget.”</p> - -<p>But there was no escape.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“As a perfume doth remain<br /></span> -<span class="i1">In the folds where it hath lain,”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_029" id="page_029"></a>{29}</span></p> - -<p class="nind">so lingered the thoughts of those untouched delicacies.</p> - -<p>The only interesting features of our day were the talks we had with one -of the German interpreters. It was the first time that any of us had a -chance of discovering their attitude towards the Entente, and it was -interesting to see how closely their propaganda had followed our own -lines.</p> - -<p>To our accounts of atrocities in Belgium, the Germans had retorted with -stories about the Russian invasion of East Prussia. By them the -employment of native troops against white men was represented as an -offence against humanity as gross as the use of gas. Nothing, moreover, -would shake their belief that France and Russia were the aggressors. To -the interpreter it was a war of self-defence. There is no doubt that his -faith in this was absolutely sincere.</p> - -<p>But what really touched him most closely was the propaganda of our -Press.</p> - -<p>“Surely you cannot believe,” he said, “that we are an entire nation of -barbarians?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_030" id="page_030"></a>{30}</span> Whatever our quarrels, you surely ought to allow that we -are human beings. If it had not been for your newspaper chiefs,” he -added, “the war would have been over in 1916.”</p> - -<p>It was the one point on which he was really bitter.</p> - -<p>One morning we were standing in the courtyard, and a German orderly was -chopping up wood for our fires. It was a bit cold, and to keep himself -warm one of the officers went over to help him.</p> - -<p>The interpreter turned to the rest of us and said: “Now then, if your -<i>John Bull</i> could get hold of a photograph of that, he’d print huge -headlines, ‘Ill-treatment of British Officers. Made to chop up wood for -German soldiers.’<span class="lftspc">”</span></p> - -<p>It was at Douai that we discovered for the first time the German habit -of putting dictaphones in prisoners’ rooms. Ours was attached to the -electric light appliances and masqueraded as a switch wire. But if any -one listened to our conversation,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_031" id="page_031"></a>{31}</span> they can have heard very little to -interest them, save perhaps sundry strings of unsavoury epithets -preceding the word “Boche.”</p> - -<p>From Douai we moved to Marchiennes; half of the way by tram. Every time -we stopped, French women crowded round us bringing cigarettes and -tobacco.</p> - -<p>“It is not allowed,” said the German sergeant-major, “but I shall be -blind.”</p> - -<p>Material comforts were even fewer at our new resting-place. There were -eight of us and we were put in a large, draughty barn, with bed-boards -covered with bracken that was unspeakably lousy. There were no rugs or -blankets of any description, and the nights were miserably cold. The -eight days we spent there were the worst of our whole captivity. The -food, consisting mainly of a stew of bad fish and sauerkraut, was at -times uneatable. Indeed, things would have gone very badly with us, had -we not managed to make friends with one of our guard. He was very small -and very grubby, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_032" id="page_032"></a>{32}</span> introduced himself to us one morning when the -commandant was not about.</p> - -<p>“Me Alsacian,” he said. “English, French, kamarades. Prussians, ugh! -nix.”</p> - -<p>From this basis of common sympathies negotiations proceeded as smoothly -as linguistic difficulties permitted. He told us that, if we wanted -food, the only way was to apply to the Maire. He himself would carry the -letter.</p> - -<p>Two hours later he returned with a loaf of bread and a packet of lard. -It seemed a banquet, and for the rest of our stay he brought us, if not -a living, at any rate an existing ration, and on the day that we moved -he even came on to the station carrying a sack of provisions.</p> - -<p>Our train journey provided an admirable example of official negligences. -For officialdom is the same all the world over. In England it was like a -game of “Old Maid”; and so it was here. To the commandant at Marchiennes -eight prisoners were only so many cards to be got rid of as quickly as<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_033" id="page_033"></a>{33}</span> -possible. As soon as they had been put in a train, and the requisite -number of buff sheets dispatched, his job was at an end. What happened -in the course of transmission mattered not at all.</p> - -<p>And so the eight of us, with two German sentries, were put in a train at -Marchiennes at ten o’clock on a Monday morning. We had rations for one -day, and we reached Karlsruhe, our destination, at 7 p.m. on the -Thursday. In this respect our experience is that of every other prisoner -that I have met; only we, by being a small party, fared better than -most.</p> - -<p>First of all, in regard to our sentries. As there were so few of us, we -soon managed to get on friendly terms with them. They were a delightful -couple. One of them was medically unfit, and had never been in the -trenches. He was mortally afraid of his own rifle, and at the first -opportunity unloaded it. The responsibility of a live round in the -breech was too great.</p> - -<p>The other was old and kindly, with the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_034" id="page_034"></a>{34}</span> Iron Cross; and like all men who -have seen war, loathed it thoroughly.</p> - -<p>“Englander and German,” he said, “trenches, ah, blutig; capout; here -alles kameraden; krieg, nix mehr.”</p> - -<p>And at every station he tried to get food out of the authorities. He was -not very successful. Only once, at Louvain, did he manage to raise some -bully beef and bread, and if we had had to rely on official largess, we -should have been very thin by the time we reached Karlsruhe. But -luckily, through being a small party, we were able to benefit from the -generosity of the Belgian civilians at a small village called -Bout-Merveille, who showered on us bread and eggs and cigarettes.</p> - -<p>But for all that the journey was tedious beyond words. We were crowded -in a third-class carriage, with unpadded seats. We had nothing to read. -Wherever the train stopped at a siding it remained there for any period -from four to seven hours; it did all its movement by night, and for at<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_035" id="page_035"></a>{35}</span> -least ten hours of daylight presented us with a stationary landscape. It -seemed as though it would never end. Nor did our arrival in Germany -afford any diversion. Another traditional conception “went west.” We had -all vaguely expected to receive some insult or brutality at the hands of -the civilian population. But no old men spat on us, no hectic women -attacked us with their hair-pins. Instead of that they regarded us with -a friendly curiosity.</p> - -<p>“Cheer up!” one girl said to us. “The war’ll soon be over. You will be -back in four months.”</p> - -<p>It was the same here as behind the line. Peace—nothing else mattered. -The Germans had suffered so much personally that they had ceased to -nourish the collective loyalties of world power and empire. They no -longer wanted to conquer the world, they wanted to be at peace; and to -this end their victories in the field seemed the shortest way. The short -snatches of conversation<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_036" id="page_036"></a>{36}</span> that we had with civilians on Heidelberg -Station were all in this key. Peace would come in four months. Beyond -that they had no ambitions. They no longer shared the megalomania of -their rulers.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_037" id="page_037"></a>{37}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III<br /><br /> -<small>KARLSRUHE AND MILTON HAYES</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">After</span> the discomforts of the trenches and the tedium of a fortnight’s -travelling, Karlsruhe provided a delightful haven. Here all the material -needs were satisfied; there was a Red Cross issue of tin foods three -times a week: the beds were moderately comfortable, and one’s clothes -could be disinfected: and there was a library. After a fortnight’s exile -from books there is no joy comparable to the sight of a printed page.</p> - -<p>And in the evenings we were allowed out till eleven o’clock. There were -big arc lamps under the trees, and in this romantic atmosphere the -greater part of the camp lay out reading in deck chairs. It was easy -then to cast a false glamour over imprisonment; to see in it a -succession of harmonious days; a quiet backwater in which the mind was<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_038" id="page_038"></a>{38}</span> -free to work. It was easy to bathe the emotions in the ordered periods -of George Moore’s prose, and reflect that there “lay no troublous thing -before.” It was the reaction natural after the turgid experiences of the -last eight months, and it certainly made that one week at Karlsruhe -lyrical with content.</p> - -<p>Karlsruhe was a distributing station through which all officer prisoners -passed on their way to permanent camps. But there was always retained a -small committee of officers to superintend the activities of this fluid -community. There were officers to look after the issue of relief -parcels, to run the library, to control general discipline. In charge of -the Red Cross Committee was Tarrant.</p> - -<p>Fourteen months of captivity had not made much impression either on his -cheerfulness or on his health. In fact he looked and felt so fit that it -caused him some alarm.</p> - -<p>“I’m too well,” he said, “I’m thinking of trying a fast.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_039" id="page_039"></a>{39}</span></p> - -<p>“He’s been saying that every day for the last month,” remarked Stone, -his room companion.</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, old man, really,” protested Tarrant, “I’ve only been waiting -for it to get a bit warmer.”</p> - -<p>After the wearisome discussions about the incidental aspects of the war, -it was an enormous delight to meet two people to whom the events of the -last year had been a matter chiefly of conjecture and report.</p> - -<p>“You will get awfully sick of all this, of course, after fourteen -months,” said Tarrant, “but it’s really a capital place to get one’s -ideas settled.”</p> - -<p>One is always extraordinarily polite to a person one meets for the first -time. After three days the need for politeness goes. But on that first -occasion the opinions of the other are treated with a laborious respect. -Conversation takes a turn of, “Of course that’s quite true, but I must -say that personally ...” and that was the way that Tarrant listened to -my heresies on the first evening.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_040" id="page_040"></a>{40}</span> Long before I had vanished from -Karlsruhe, however, the respectful tone had degenerated into, “Won’t do, -old man, won’t do,” and there have been times since, when I have emerged -sadly tattered from some war of dialectic, that I have longed wistfully -for those early days.</p> - -<p>The next afternoon Tarrant was in a chastened mood.</p> - -<p>“I’ve begun my fast,” he explained. “It was not so bad after breakfast. -But by lunch time it got pretty awful, and by now....”</p> - -<p>“It gets better after the third day, I’m told,” Stone hazarded.</p> - -<p>“You know,” Tarrant went on, “before I began this fast, I made a whole -pile of arguments in favour of it; but really at this moment, I can’t -remember a single one.”</p> - -<p>“Shall I suggest a few?” said Stone.</p> - -<p>“No, thanks.”</p> - -<p>However, the resolution held good, and for the space of five complete -days he did not eat a morsel of food. The moment it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_041" id="page_041"></a>{41}</span> over he -declared it to be a capital scheme, and recommended it to all his -friends.</p> - -<p> </p> - -<p>It was at Karlsruhe that I met Milton Hayes. Off the stage he is in -appearance very much like the remainder of humanity, but no one who has -met him once could ever forget him. He is the one man who has accepted -Popular Taste as a constant thing, has defined that thing, and found a -theory on which to work.</p> - -<p>The majority of popular artists always adopt an attitude of, “Well, -there must be something about my stuff, I don’t know what it is, a -little trick, something that hits the popular fancy. I can’t explain -it.”</p> - -<p>But Milton Hayes has his theory cut and dried. He has formed a vessel in -which all his work can take shape. He has written two monologues, <i>The -Green Eye of the Little Yellow God</i>, and <i>The Whitest Man I Know</i>, that -have sold more than any other similar compositions, and he wrote them -both, as it were, to scale.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_042" id="page_042"></a>{42}</span></p> - -<p>“The great thing,” he said, “is to appeal to the imagination. Don’t -describe: suggest. All the best effects are got by placing the vital -incident off the stage. Let your public imagine, don’t tell them -anything; just strike chords. It’s no good describing a house; the -person will always fix the scene in some spot that he himself knows. In -as few words as possible you’ve got to recall that spot to him. He’ll do -the rest.”</p> - -<p>About the “Green Eye” he made no pretence. He wove round it no air of -mystery and cracker tinsel.</p> - -<p>“It took me five hours to write,” he said, “but I worked it all out -first. I don’t say it’s real poetry; but it does what I set out to do. -It appeals to the imagination. It starts off with colours, green and -yellow, that at once introduce an atmosphere. Then India: well, every -one’s got his idea of India; it’s a symbol. It conveys something very -definite to the average mind. Then play on the susceptibilities. ‘His -name was mad<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_043" id="page_043"></a>{43}</span> Karou’: you’ve got the whole man. The public will fill in -the picture for you. And then the mystery parts; just leave enough -unsaid to make paterfamilias pat himself on the back. ‘I’ve spotted it, -he can’t do me. I’m up to that dodge; I know where he went’; and when -you are at the end you come back to the point you started from. It -carries people back. You’ve got a compact whole: and you touch the sense -of pathos, ‘A broken-hearted woman tends the grave of mad Karou.’ -They’ll weave a whole story round that woman’s life. Every man’s a -novelist at heart. We all tell ourselves stories. And that’s what you’ve -got to play on.”</p> - -<p>And that is where, I think, Milton Hayes’s greatness really lies. He -thoroughly understands his audience; he can change places with each -individual that is listening to him. He never has to try a thing on some -one first to see whether it will go. He knows at once what will get over -and what will not. One of the most amusing sketches he has done<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_044" id="page_044"></a>{44}</span> was a -burlesque of a war-lecture made by a famous London journalist. He -mimicked his subject completely, but where the real “punch” lay was in -his analysis of the emotions of each individual and couple leaving the -hall. He knew exactly what each one would make of it.</p> - -<p>One of his chief maxims, too, is that an actor must remember that he is -performing not to individuals but to couples.</p> - -<p>“People don’t go to shows by themselves,” he said, “and you must -remember that a thing that may sound silly to a man when he’s by himself -sounds very different when he’s with his best girl. You’ve got to get -that moment when a boy wants to squeeze the hand of the girl he’s -sitting next, and the old married couple simper a bit, and think that -after all they’ve not had such a bad time together.</p> - -<p>“And I dare say that is why a play like <i>Romance</i> seems so bad to the -critic. He’s gone there by himself, when he should have gone there with -a girl. <i>Romance</i> has got<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_045" id="page_045"></a>{45}</span> all the sure hits; it’s steeped in amber -light. All the effects, the hidden singer, the one passion, the woman -that never marries. But you must not go to a show like that by -yourself.”</p> - -<p>What others have done unconsciously, Milton Hayes has done consciously. -He knows exactly what he is doing, and in consequence relies less on -chance than others of his profession, and if, as he promises, he takes -to writing musical comedies after the war, there should be very little -doubt of his success.</p> - -<p> </p> - -<p>The week at Karlsruhe passed very quickly, and very pleasantly, and I -was thoroughly sorry to have to leave, especially as Tarrant and Stone -were on the permanent Red Cross staff. The prospect of a new camp at -Mainz offered hardly any attractions. There would be nothing there; no -library, no sports outfits; we should have all the trouble of starting -the machinery of a “lager.” Not one of us looked forward to it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_046" id="page_046"></a>{46}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV<br /><br /> -<small>THE HUNGRY DAYS</small></h2> - -<h3>§ 1</h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> entrance of the Citadel Mainz was calculated to inspire the most -profound gloom. An enormous gate swung open, revealing a black and -cavernous passage. As soon as all were herded in, the gate shut behind -us, and we were immersed in darkness. Then another gate at the end of -the passage creaked back on unoiled hinges, and ushered us into our new -home. That cobwebbed passage was like the neutral space between two -worlds. It laid emphasis on captivity.</p> - -<p>Under the lens of the mendacious camera the entourage of the citadel -presents a very pleasant aspect. The square looks bright and large, the -rooms light and airy; from the top windows there is a delightful view -of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_047" id="page_047"></a>{47}</span> the Mainz steeples and of the Rhineland hills, and a fleeting -glimpse can be caught of Heine’s bridge. But to the jaundiced eye of the -<i>Gefangener</i> all this comeliness was illusion. In actual circumference -the square measured about 400 yards, and it was too full of the ghosts -of squad drill. On most of the walls were painted the head and shoulders -of dummy targets, that a regiment of snipers had once used for rifle -practice. The spirit of militarism was strong; and however delightful -the Rhine may look when photographed from the top-story window of a tall -block, it is less arcadian when viewed through a screen of wire netting. -The whole place was littered with sentries, and barbed wire. For not one -moment could one imagine one was free. At times even a sort of -claustrophobia would envelop one. The desire to move was imperative, and -the tall avenue of chestnuts seemed to rise furiously, as though they -were sentinels that would some day draw all things to themselves.</p> - -<p>Some of the rooms were, it is true, light<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_048" id="page_048"></a>{48}</span> and sunny. But the rooms in -Block III were miserably dark. The windows were on a level with the -ground on account of a moat that ran round the building, and in front a -line of chestnuts shut out the sunlight. The rooms were long and narrow, -with bars across the windows. At the end it was very often too dark to -read; the window sill was the only place that provided enough light for -a morning shave. From the outside and from the inside the block was like -a dungeon, and the official photographs omitted to immortalise it.</p> - -<p>The routine of the camp was very simple. At eight o’clock in the morning -breakfast, consisting of coffee, was brought to the rooms. At half-past -nine there was a roll-call. At twelve midday there was lunch in the -mess-rooms; at three in the afternoon coffee was brought round to the -rooms; at six there was supper in the mess-rooms. At nine the doors of -the block were closed; at nine-thirty there was an evening roll-call; at -eleven lights went out.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_048fp_lg.png"> -<img src="images/i_048fp_sml.png" width="282" height="320" alt="Image unavailable: OUR DAILY ROLL. - -[To face page 48. - -" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">OUR DAILY ROLL. - -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 20%;">[To face page 48.</span> - -</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_049" id="page_049"></a>{49}</span></p> - -<p>But for two fortunate contingencies those early days would have been -almost unendurable. One of them was the arrival from Karlsruhe of -Tarrant and Stone. During our first week every evening brought a draft -of new arrivals; and among one of the later of these appeared Tarrant -and Stone, staggering beneath the accumulated kit of fourteen months’ -imprisonment. The change contented them little. After the shelter and -privacy of a room for two, it was no joke to be dumped into the -publicity of a room of ten. The creature comforts were missing. -Naturally we showered sympathy. But as a practical philosophy altruism -is a sadly broken reed. The pleasure at the prospect of their company -quite outweighed the inconvenience that its presence had caused to them; -and, besides that, they brought with them no small part of a library. -The bookless days were over now. No more should I have to spend a whole -morning over the only volume in the room—The Book of Common Prayer. No -more<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_050" id="page_050"></a>{50}</span> should I have to go to the most extreme lengths of subservience to -borrow <i>Freckles</i> or <i>The Rosary</i>.</p> - -<p>The other piece of luck we had was in the weather. During the early days -of May the square was bathed in a metallic heat; and as soon as -roll-call was over a deck chair was pushed into the shade of a tree, -where one could doze and read throughout the whole morning, and forget -that one was hungry.</p> - -<p>For those were hungry days. Indeed it is hard not to make the first two -months a mere chronicle of sauerkraut. I honestly believe that the -Germans gave us as much food as they could, considering we were “useless -mouths”: but it was precious little. After all it is one thing to be -reduced to short rations by slow gradations, but it is a very different -thing to be taken from the flesh-pots of France where one eats a great -deal too much, to a vegetable diet that was not nearly sufficient. There -was only one proper meal a day: lunch. We<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_051" id="page_051"></a>{51}</span> then got two plates of soup, -three or four potatoes, and a spoonful or two of beetroot or cabbage. -The effect lasted for three hours. Supper rarely provided potatoes; -usually two plates of thin soup, and sauerkraut or barley porridge. In -addition there was a fortnightly issue of sugar, a weekly issue of jam, -and a bi-weekly issue of bread. On this last issue the <i>Gefangener’s</i> -fate depended. Life simplified itself into an attempt to spread out a -small loaf of bread over four days. It did not often succeed. On the -first day one carefully marked out on the crust the limit at which each -day’s plunderings must stop. The loaf was divided, first of all, into -four equal parts, then each quarter was again marked out in divisions; -so much for breakfast, so much for tea, so much for supper. It did not -work. Each day removed its neighbour’s landmark. By the third day only a -little edge of crust remained. It was demolished by tea-time, and -nothing quite equalled the depression of the evening of that third day. -The worst time was at<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_052" id="page_052"></a>{52}</span> eight o’clock. The effect of a slender supper had -by then worn off, and there was the comforting reflection that for -sixteen hours there was not the least likelihood of being able to lay -hand on any food; and the dizziness of a breakfastless morning is an -experience no one would wish to indulge in twice.</p> - -<p>They were strange days, and strange things happened. Money ceased to -have any value unless it could be turned into edible substance. Those -with big appetites carried on a sort of secret service to obtain bread; -fabulous sums were offered for a quarter of a loaf of bread that -contained less flour than potatoes; and, at a time when a mark was worth -a shilling, there were those who were prepared to pay seventy-five marks -for a loaf; and twenty marks for half a loaf was the lowest rate of -exchange.</p> - -<p>One knew then the emotions of the man with threepence in his pocket; who -is feeling ravenously hungry and knows that, if he spends that -threepence on dinner, he will<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_053" id="page_053"></a>{53}</span> have nothing left for the next day. It is -an alternative that in terms of brown bread has presented itself to -every prisoner of war.</p> - -<p>The psychology of semi-starvation would make an interesting study; and -it would bring out very clearly the irrefutable truth that the only way -to get any peace for the mind is by throwing sops to the physical -appetites; that passions must be allayed, not suppressed; and that the -moment anything is suppressed it becomes an obsession. For there is -poison in every unacted desire, and the only way to deal with the -appetites is to be neither their slave nor tyrant. Asceticism renders a -clear view of life impossible.</p> - -<p>And during those days, if one sufficiently objectified one’s emotions, -there would be always found the insidious germ working its way into the -most unlikely places. Even in books there was no escape from it; it -deliberately perverted the author’s meaning. And one occasion comes back -very vividly. I was reading <i>La Débâcle</i> and had reached the scene where -Louis Napoleon is sitting<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_054" id="page_054"></a>{54}</span> alone in his room, and his servants lay -before him dish after dish which he leaves untouched. And because of -this perpetual hungriness the whole effect of the incident was spoilt. I -could not get into the mood necessary to appreciate the effect Zola had -aimed at. All I could think was, “Here is this appalling ass Louis -Napoleon, surrounded with meats and fish, entrées and omelettes, and the -fool does not eat them. If only they had given me a chance!”</p> - -<p>It was interesting, too, to notice its effect on a man like Milton -Hayes. Naturally it hit him in that most vulnerable point, his theory of -Popular Taste.</p> - -<p>One morning I found him sitting on a seat, dipping into three books in -turn, <i>Lorna Doone</i>, <i>Pickwick Papers</i>, and <i>The Knave of Diamonds</i>.</p> - -<p>“A strange selection,” I said.</p> - -<p>“No,” he said; “they are all the same, really. They’ve all done the same -thing; they’ve sold; they’ve got the same bedrock principle somewhere, -and I think I’ve found it.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_055" id="page_055"></a>{55}</span></p> - -<p>“Well, what is it?”</p> - -<p>“Gratification of appetite. All these accounts of big meals and luxury. -That’s what gets over. People don’t want psychology. But they’ll smack -their lips over the dresses and feasts in <i>The Knave of Diamonds</i>; and -then look at the venison pasties in <i>Lorna Doone</i>, and the heavy dinners -in <i>Pickwick</i>. That’s what people want. They have not got these things; -but they want to be told they exist somewhere, and that they are there -to be found. If ever you want to write a book that will really sell, -remember that: gratification of appetite: make their mouths water.”</p> - -<h3>§ 2</h3> - -<p>There was, of course, in the form of the <i>Kantine</i> an official method of -supplementing the ordinary issue. And across that counter strange things -passed.</p> - -<p>Every day provided a fresh experiment. A rumour would fly round the camp -that there was a new sort of tinned paste to be had,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_056" id="page_056"></a>{56}</span> “I saw a fellow -coming out with a biggish-looking tin,” some one would say. “I don’t -know what was in it. But it was too big for boot polish.”</p> - -<p>There would follow a general rush, and a queue thirty deep would prolong -itself outside the door. The mixture would turn out to be a green paste -purported to be made from snails and liver. For a day or two the -unfortunates who had bought it spread it over their bread, and tried to -make themselves believe they liked it. The only purpose it really served -was to make the bread look thicker than it was.</p> - -<p>Then another tin would appear; there would be another rumour, another -rush to the door, another disillusionment. There was a crab paste, a -vegetable paste, a nondescript brown paste; all in turn went their way, -and yielded to the soft intrigue of Dried Veg.</p> - -<p>Dried Veg presented itself very innocuously in a paper bag covered with -directions in German. It looked dry and unappetising. None of us knew -how it should be treated,</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_056fp_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img src="images/i_056fp_sml.jpg" width="368" height="218" alt="Image unavailable: THE “KANTINE” AT MAINZ. - -[To face page 56. - -" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">THE “KANTINE” AT MAINZ. - -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 20%;">[To face page 56.</span> - -</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_057" id="page_057"></a>{57}</span></p> - -<p class="nind">but the consensus of opinion decided that half an hour’s boiling was all -that was needed; and so adhering to the popular idea, we emptied the -packet into a saucepan full of water, boiled it for half an hour, and -ate it. It was really not so bad.</p> - -<p>Within half an hour, however, we knew that something was wrong. All of -us began to move uncomfortably. Pain spread itself across our stomachs: -and then too late appeared one who could translate the instructions on -the wrapper. The contents should have been left to stand in water for at -least twenty-four hours, by which time it would have absorbed all the -moisture demanded by its composition. We had given it only half an -hour’s boiling. It took its revenge by swelling silently within us.</p> - -<p>It was a terrible night.</p> - -<p> </p> - -<p>From these expenditures it will follow that life at Mainz was not quite -so cheap as might be imagined. And we were unfortunate in being captured -at a time when<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_058" id="page_058"></a>{58}</span> the value of a mark was very high. For, thanks to the -business instincts of our German bankers, a cheque for three pounds was -worth only sixty marks.</p> - -<p>Myself I do not pretend to understand bimetallism, rate of exchange, or -any of the other commercial problems that regulate the value of money. -But the equivalent of the sixty marks paid monthly by Messrs. Cox to the -German Government appeared in our pass-books at that time as £2 10<i>s.</i> -6<i>d.</i>; and as at our end we had to pay £3 for the same number of marks, -one is driven to assume that the intermediary German firm was making a -profit of about sixteen per cent. on every cheque drawn; a basis on -which we would all like to run a bank.</p> - -<p>The result both of the rushes to the <i>Kantine</i> and the succeeding rushes -to the Paymaster’s office was the distinguishing feature of our daily -routine—Queues. For the first impression of a stranger entering the -citadel would have been of a sequence of trailing lines receding from -open doors. Every<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_059" id="page_059"></a>{59}</span> department had its own particular queue. There was -the queue outside the library, an insignificant affair owing to the -thinly lined shelves; the queue outside the tin store for those who had -parcels, and the two main streams of humanity, the queue from the -<i>Kantine</i>, and the queue from the Paymaster’s office. These two last -were in a continual state of flux, a ceaseless ebb and flow; the moment -that they seemed likely to be engulfed within the welcoming portals -there would be another meeting of the ways, more applicants would -arrive, and the human rivers would overflow their banks. To any one who -enjoyed this pastime, life was prodigal of entertainment. He could flit -from one dissipation to another. But to the majority it was a tedious -business, and the art of “queuing” began.</p> - -<p>For an art it certainly was. As the master of finance is always watching -the rise and fall of the markets, so that he shall know the exact moment -at which to buy or to sell; so the master queuist would bide,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_060" id="page_060"></a>{60}</span> waiting -for that moment when the stream would be at its lowest ebb, and when he -might safely attach himself to its interests. The cowardly might enrol -themselves stolidly at an early hour, and shifting forward slowly, -almost imperceptibly, they would eventually reach the doors. For them -there was in queuing neither colour nor excitement. It was a dead level.</p> - -<p>But for the artist in queues it was altogether different. He hazarded -much. He had to work out whether or not it would really pay him to get -to the door of the <i>Kantine</i> an hour before it was due to open. If he -waited till later on in the day, he might manage to take advantage of -some quiet lull, and gain his ends after a paltry thirty minutes’ wait. -But, if he did, there was always the chance that when he did arrive the -article he had desired would be no longer there. The whole stock of -liver paste might have been exhausted. An appalling contingency. All -these considerations had to be weighed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_061" id="page_061"></a>{61}</span></p> - -<p>And with regard to the Paymaster’s office there were attached notable -risks. At noon every day the gates were closed, and consequently at -about half-past eleven the applicants ceased to arrive. Nobody cares to -wait thirty minutes and then have the doors shut upon him; and it was -here that the genius of the queuist was most in evidence.</p> - -<p>At half-past eleven he would look at the queue: there were fifteen -people waiting: would those fifteen people be able to draw their cheques -in time? and in cases like this a mere average of time was valueless. In -queuing, as everywhere else, all standards were relative. Because on one -day twenty people had drawn their money in as many minutes, it did not -follow that on another fifteen would draw theirs in an hour. -Nationalities had to be taken into consideration. Those twenty men were -probably Irishmen. But if there were ten kilts outside the gate, even -when the hands of the clock stood only at a quarter-past eleven, the -great queuist would turn away. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_062" id="page_062"></a>{62}</span> knew that to each of those ten -Scotsmen the Paymaster would have to explain the theory of exchange in -indifferent English, which would not be understood, and that the -Paymaster would then have to try and gather the drift of a Scotsman’s -logic in a language he had not heard before, and that for each -individual applicant an interpreter would have to be summoned.</p> - -<p>Queuing, if refined to an art, required a great deal more than the -merely neutral quality of patience.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_062fp_lg.png"> -<img src="images/i_062fp_sml.png" width="267" height="362" alt="Image unavailable: THE QUEUE OUTSIDE THE PAYMASTER’S OFFICE. - -[To face page 62. - -" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">THE QUEUE OUTSIDE THE PAYMASTER’S OFFICE. -<br /> - -<span style="margin-left: 20%;">[To face page 62.</span> - -</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_063" id="page_063"></a>{63}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V<br /><br /> -<small>THE PITT LEAGUE</small></h2> - -<h3>§ 1</h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">At</span> the beginning of May we had all resigned ourselves to a stay of at -least two years in Germany. After that we should be probably exchanged, -or interned in a neutral country. Perhaps the war might be over. At any -rate soldiering was more or less done with; and the eye began to turn -once again towards civilian occupations. In consequence the Future -Career Society was born.</p> - -<p>It opened very modestly, under the auspices of a field officer and two -subalterns. Its programme was to find out what each person wanted to -learn, and to provide classes as far as was possible in the required -subjects. It was hoped to bring together members of the same profession -and form<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_064" id="page_064"></a>{64}</span> circles for Schoolmasters, Bankers, and Farmers.</p> - -<p>This scheme presented countless opportunities for the Bureaucrat. There -is in every community a certain number of people who are never so happy -as when they are confronted with a host of particulars that demand -tabulation. They glory in the sight of a ledger, ruled off into -meticulously exact columns. They love to write at the top of each -column: size of boots, colour of hair, number of distinguishing marks.</p> - -<p>To such a one was entrusted the clerkship of the Future Career Society. -It was announced that at such and such an hour he would receive -applicants. Wishing to learn French, I attached myself to a queue, and -after a wait of twenty minutes duly presented myself at the desk.</p> - -<p>I was received with the stern official gaze that seems to say, “Now -then, young fellow, I’m a hard-worked man and can’t afford to waste time -on you. Let’s get to business at once.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_065" id="page_065"></a>{65}</span></p> - -<p>“Name?”—Waugh.</p> - -<p>“Initials?”—A. R.</p> - -<p>“Married?”—No.</p> - -<p>“Single?”—Yes.</p> - -<p>“Children?”—None.</p> - -<p>“Age?”—Nearly twenty.</p> - -<p>The questions followed each other with the rapidity of machine-gun -bullets. These preliminaries over, he looked up at me with the -benevolent Fairy Godfather expression of, “Now, young fellow, I’m doing -my best, I want to help you, but you must meet me half-way.”</p> - -<p>“Now,” he said kindly, “what work did you do before the war?”</p> - -<p>“None at all,” I answered truthfully; “I was at school.”</p> - -<p>“Then you don’t know what you are going to do when you get back?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, something to do with books,” I hazarded.</p> - -<p>“Ah, yes, Book-keeping. Then I suppose that what you want is a really -sound commercial education?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_066" id="page_066"></a>{66}</span></p> - -<p>And he was about to jot down “Commerce” when I pointed out that what I -really wanted to do was not to keep books, but to write them.</p> - -<p>“Journalism? Then why couldn’t you say so at once,” and he returned to -the official “Busyman” attitude.</p> - -<p>Finally we reached the stage to which this examination had led.</p> - -<p>“Now, then, what classes do you think of taking up?”</p> - -<p>“French.”</p> - -<p>He looked at me, doubtfully avuncular.</p> - -<p>“You know, I don’t know whether French will be much use to you. Is that -all you are taking up? Because, of course, French is very amusing, but -from a commercial point of view really I should advise shorthand. No? -well, then, I must just put you down for French. Some notices will come -round about the classes.”</p> - -<p>And he began his inquisition of my successor. Really, considering that -to be entered in a French class was the whole object<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_067" id="page_067"></a>{67}</span> of my visit, the -interview was sufficiently prolix, but the fellow enjoyed doing it. That -was the great thing.</p> - -<p> </p> - -<p>Like all innovations, the F.C.S. (as it appeared on official -abbreviations) met with great support, numerous classes were formed, so -numerous, in fact, were they that there was hardly enough room for them. -At all periods of the day students could be observed hurrying across the -court, a stool under one arm, and a pile of books under the other. The -whole day was mapped out into periods; there was no vacant spot but it -had to serve as a classroom; and the attendance was admirable. Over a -hundred officers attended the first lecture of the shorthand expert. The -elementary French class was so large that it had to be divided up into -three.</p> - -<p>Great trade flourished then in the <i>Kantine</i>. Otto’s Grammars were at a -premium. They were hoarded deliberately. One enterprising linguist went -so far as to amass within the space of a week, grammars of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_068" id="page_068"></a>{68}</span> Spanish, -French, German, Italian, Arabic and Hindustani, together with their -keys.</p> - -<p>It did not last long: within a week the numbers were diminished by a -half; they then sank to a quarter, then an eighth. Within a month no -class numbered more than half a dozen, which was just as well, for -really people do not want to be taught things. Educational experts who -spend years working out theories do not make a sufficient point of this. -It is not enough to form a system, and expect the world to fit into it. -Only a very few desire knowledge, and those few should be catered for. -They will profit by instruction. But those who are taught things against -their will, speedily forget whatever they have learnt. There are, it is -true, those men who can inspire a love of work, who can produce results -from any material, but they are not schoolmasters. There is rarely more -than one in each school. For the profession presents insufficient -attractions to the really brilliant man, with the result that -schoolmasters are<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_069" id="page_069"></a>{69}</span> drawn from the ranks of mediocrity; and as long as -this state of things continues, all that the average schoolmaster can -hope to do is to keep the lazy in order, and impart his knowledge to -those who want to learn. For the masses education can only mean -information, and information by itself has little value.</p> - -<p>And so within a month the educational life of the camp had assumed -modest limits; but, as those who remained were genuinely keen, the -classes became infinitely more efficacious. Conversational French, for -instance, was possible as it would never have been in a gathering of -thirty. For the enthusiasts the decreased numbers were in every way -advantageous, but it gave no pleasure to Colonel Westcott.</p> - -<p>Colonel Westcott was one of those delightful persons whom captivity had -turned into a burlesque. He was as extravagant as a character out of -Dickens, and it was hard to believe in his reality. He was so exactly -the type of army officer that is caricatured on the music-hall stage. He -had<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_070" id="page_070"></a>{70}</span> all the foibles and loyalties of his caste. He believed fearlessly -in discipline, in the Anglo-Saxon race, in an Utopia made not with hands -but with muskets.</p> - -<p>In the time when his enthusiasms had been kept in control by the -business of war, he had been an excellent soldier; but once captured, he -had no outlet for his temperament. Looking down on the court from the -window of his room, he was horrified at the thought of so many -subalterns passing out of his hands, out of the hands of discipline back -into the individual energies of civilian life. And Colonel Westcott -hated individualism: he liked to see humanity moving forward in one -compact body, with himself at its head. He loathed, and was frightened -by, the small bodies that went their own way and in their own time. -During the four years of war nothing had given him more pleasure than to -watch the slow conscription of England. In it he saw unity and safety. -He was with the majority and was therefore safe.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_071" id="page_071"></a>{71}</span></p> - -<p>But now all those good things were ending. He saw the splitting up of -all this common impulse into countless cliques, with interests not his -own; and he felt that he must make one effort before the close. For -Colonel Westcott was a brave man. He would sell everything for the -comfort and assuagement of his soul. And so he founded the Pitt League.</p> - -<p>As an essay in the floating of a bogus company, it was a notable -achievement. Never was such a web of words woven round such a dummy. Not -that the Colonel spake one word that he did not believe. He was -impeccably honest. He really valued the goods that he extolled.</p> - -<p>One evening in the theatre he laid his wares before us. With an -unconscious skill, he began by an appeal to the vanity and the emotions -of his hearers.</p> - -<p>“Gentlemen,” he said, “I have been told by one of the padres that in the -lesson for March 21st, the day on which most of us were captured, occurs -the text, ‘Be thou a ruler<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_072" id="page_072"></a>{72}</span> even in the midst among thine enemies.’ -That, gentlemen, is what I want to say to you to-night. Be rulers, I -will tell you how.”</p> - -<p>The prospect of gaining the mastery over the generous supply of armed -sentries was alluring. There was an instant and unanimous attention.</p> - -<p>“We can only do it in one way, gentlemen, and that is by combination. We -must all work together, we must work not towards individual prosperity, -but towards the prosperity of the community. No longer can we fight our -enemies in the field, but we can wage a silent war, we can prepare -ourselves so that afterwards we may be triumphant. We must work -collectively: we must unite: the life of this camp should be like one -machine, in which you are all cogs. And so, gentlemen, I have brought -forward my scheme. I have called it the Pitt League, because, well, -gentlemen, because it rhymes with <i>grit</i>.”</p> - -<p>And then followed an exposition worthy<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_073" id="page_073"></a>{73}</span> of the great Tartarin. But even -the hero of Tarascon can hardly have brought to play in the account of -his visionary Saharas such a fancy, such an overwhelming unreason, such -a complete contempt for the bounds of probability. Slowly idea followed -on idea, slowly the colossal fabric was raised. That Colonel Westcott -was a caricature must always be kept in mind; but even so I think the -excitement of the moment must have caught him up. Even he could not in -cold blood have conceived such fabulous creations.</p> - -<p>The scheme began by amalgamating The Future Career Society; and starting -at the point where that society had wisely halted, proceeded to include -every department of Imperial life. Committees would be formed; debates -and lectures arranged. A research committee would be able to provide -information on any subject; a trade and commerce department would -provide a comprehensive study of the growth of trade and of Colonial -expansion. It would work out every problem of navigation, and every fine -question of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_074" id="page_074"></a>{74}</span> markets, their rise and fall. A department for home affairs -would provide recipes by which thirty million people could live without -competition. Divorce, Politics, Education, State control of vice, small -holdings, all these would be settled. And then the Dominions, each -Colony would have its own department, where Colonials would decide on -how best they could further the Imperial ideals. Then there was the -regular soldier side, the Imperial Force branch. And here perhaps the -Colonel’s fancy flew farthest and highest, military strategy would be -dealt with from primeval time. Sand-maps on the floor would show the -site of battle-fields and the dispositions of the rival armies; tactics -would be exhaustively discussed. A new and infallible method of attack -would be evolved for the next war.</p> - -<p>And all these activities would be accomplished, in spite of the fact -that no one in the camp possessed the least information on any of these -points; and that as a remedy for their defect there existed neither a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_075" id="page_075"></a>{75}</span> -reference library nor the likelihood of obtaining one. But by this -Colonel Westcott was nothing daunted. Perhaps at the back of his mind -there was the unconscious knowledge that the end is nothing, the means -all, “and that to move is somewhat although the goal be far.”</p> - -<p>“And when we go back to England,” he concluded, “you will be able to -effect the reforms you have thought out here. You will go back with a -collective and not an individual patriotism. You will be capable of -really efficient citizenship. We shall still be able to move forward as -one body. That is the Pitt League, gentlemen.”</p> - -<p>And then followed the sentence for which he deserves immortality.</p> - -<p>“It’s my scheme and I like it. I know you’ll like it too.”</p> - -<p>He had out-tartarined Tartarin. Caricature in one human frame could go -no further.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_076" id="page_076"></a>{76}</span></p> - -<h3>§ 2</h3> - -<p>The Pitt League fared as might have been expected. It was born and -christened amid much enthusiasm. The whole camp found itself enrolled -under some branch or other, elaborate programmes were devised. The walls -of the theatre were covered with notices. Every Wednesday the heads of -each branch met in what was called the Parliament of the Pitt League, of -which Colonel Westcott was Prime Minister. This gave the required -semblance of unity and collective patriotism. A few field officers and -senior captains found that a certain amount of work had devolved upon -their shoulders, but the life of the average subaltern continued -undisturbed. In practice no one is a collectivist, unless it is likely -to prove to his advantage. No one wants to be a cog in any machine that -does not produce tangible results; and though the camp gave the Pitt -League its sympathy and encouragement, it did not see its way<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_077" id="page_077"></a>{77}</span> to -further any interests not its own. The Colonel, however, was quite -content with his work. He was Prime Minister of his own Parliament, and -everywhere his eyes were confronted with tabulated evidence of his -enterprise.</p> - -<p>“A very different camp,” he would say to himself. “There is now a -purpose and an end ... a thorough change of attitude, and,” he would -proudly add, “it is all my doing.”</p> - -<p>From this energy, however, there did spring two incidental results: one -touched me personally, the other only in as far as I was a member of the -general community. The former was that I discovered my name on the -syllabus of the Home Affairs branch as a future lecturer on Social -Reform, a privilege which was deferred weekly with considerable -ingenuity until the signing of the Armistice absolved me from my -promise; the other was the inauguration of the Priority Pass.</p> - -<p>For it is one of the traits in human nature<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_078" id="page_078"></a>{78}</span> that no sooner does a man -begin to do any work for which he is not paid than he demands -recognition of some sort. He wants to be differentiated from the rest. -The man who has served twelve months as an A.S.C. batman clamours for an -extra chevron. Why should he be ranked on the same level as the -infantryman who has only been in the line thirteen weeks. The officer -who censored letters at the Base in the first October of the war demands -a riband to show he is not one of those mere conscripts who only landed -in 1915. They are working of course not “for glory or for honour.” Their -service is perfectly disinterested, all they want is to be of help to -the nation. But still, they do think, that in common justice some sort -of difference should be made, some privilege perhaps....</p> - -<p>And it was so with the officials of the Pitt League. They all maintained -that it was their greatest delight to be of service to the camp, that -they were collectivists of the truest and most practical kind. Yet they<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_079" id="page_079"></a>{79}</span> -were only human, and when they saw lazy officers reaping where they had -themselves sown, the wedge of justice slipped itself beneath the barrier -of their altruism. The elemental idea of “mine and thine” once firmly -planted, strengthened and took root. They felt the need of recompense.</p> - -<p>For some time they were in doubt as to the dress in which public -gratitude should be arrayed. But at last the shorthand expert was gifted -with an inspiration. Triumphantly he bore his commodity to the premier.</p> - -<p>“Sir, couldn’t we have precedence in queues?”</p> - -<p>“Precedence, Wilkins?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Sir, we have such a lot to do, that really we have not time to -waste half the morning in queues. Couldn’t we have a pass or something -so that we could go straight in?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, admirable, Wilkins, admirable. A Priority Pass, the very -thing.”</p> - -<p>And so the abuse of privilege began.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_080" id="page_080"></a>{80}</span></p> - -<p>The camp, not realising what it would lead to, received this news with -equanimity.</p> - -<p>“Quite right too,” was the general opinion. “These fellows do a lot of -work. They have not got too much spare time.”</p> - -<p>Within a day or two the opinion changed. For holders of passes always -used them at the same time, that is, when it was most inconvenient to -the rest of the queue. For the chief joy of a privilege lies in the -flaunting of it before the eyes of the less fortunate. There were low -murmurs of resentment.</p> - -<p>Two afternoons later I met Stone in the last stage of exasperation. -After a stream of abuse, the “sad accidents of his tragedy” became -clear.</p> - -<p>It was a wet, windy afternoon, and Stone had been waiting in the -“cheque” queue for over an hour. He was heartily sick of it, but had -been particularly anxious to draw his money before roll-call, having -booked the billiard-table for immediately afterwards. And it had really -looked as though he would<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_081" id="page_081"></a>{81}</span> be just in time. Five more minutes, and he -was fourth in the queue; a minute a man. It should have worked out all -right.</p> - -<p>Slowly the queue had moved forwards. Too slowly for Stone. There had -been a delay of almost two minutes, because some ass had not been able -to remember the amount of his cheque. Numerous sheets had to be turned -over. It was “a bit thick.”</p> - -<p>But at last the three men in front of him had been disposed of. With a -minute to spare, he had just been about to walk into the office, when a -voice had bawled, “Half a minute,” and a diminutive captain had rushed -up panting.</p> - -<p>“Just in time.”</p> - -<p>“Afraid you won’t get in before roll-call,” Stone had said, sunning -himself in his serenity.</p> - -<p>“Oh, that’s all right. I’ve got a Priority Pass.”</p> - -<p>“A what?”</p> - -<p>“A Priority Pass.”</p> - -<p>“But what for?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_082" id="page_082"></a>{82}</span></p> - -<p>“Botany. Ah, there’s that fellow coming out. My turn, cheerioh.”</p> - -<p>And thirty seconds later the bell had gone for roll-call.</p> - -<p>“It’s the limit,” said Stone, “the absolute limit, and do you know what -that absurd botany ass does, two hours a week, that’s all. Damn it all, -and then he can just saunter into a queue whenever he likes. I’ve a -jolly good mind to get a Priority Pass myself, it’s quite easy, all -you’ve got to do is to invent a language that no one else is likely to -know. Finnish, say, and old Westcott would be only too bucked to have -another branch to his ‘Up dogs and at ’em’ League.”</p> - -<p>To invent a language.</p> - -<p>The idea ran through my mind, a glimmering thread of thought. What was -it George Moore had said? A new tongue was needed. The day of the -English language was over. It had passed through so many hands, been -filtered in so many places, that it was now colourless and without -significance. But this new tongue, this child that was waiting<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_083" id="page_083"></a>{83}</span> to be -cradled; it was a lyre from which any rhythm might be struck; it was -virgin soil that would bear epic upon epic, masterpiece on masterpiece; -and it would be so simple, so childishly simple. All that was needed was -the purchase of an Otto-Sauer conversation grammar which we could -translate into Finnish. No one would be any the wiser. Colonel Westcott -could be taken in quite easily.</p> - -<p>I began to picture the scene.</p> - -<p>Stone and I would go to him one evening, when there had been potatoes -for supper. We should find him well filled and satisfied, puffing -contentedly at a cigar, and musing sentimentally over an ideal world -peopled with the Anglo-Saxon race, bred on collectivism and eugenics.</p> - -<p>He would greet us with a kindly patronising smile.</p> - -<p>“Well, Stone. Yes, and let me see, who is it, Waugh. Well?”</p> - -<p>“Well, Sir, the fact is that Stone and myself have been thinking a good -deal lately<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_084" id="page_084"></a>{84}</span> about our duties as citizens. We were wondering whether we -were really doing all we could. It’s such a splendid opportunity here, -Sir. We could lay the foundations of so much.”</p> - -<p>“Certainly, Waugh, certainly, an admirable thought.”</p> - -<p>“And, Sir, we were wondering whether you had ever considered the -possibilities of Finland, Sir.”</p> - -<p>“Finland, Waugh.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Sir. I believe it’s the coming centre of the herring trade, and -I’m sure if some of these fellows here realised it, they would be only -too keen to try their luck there, and it would be a great thing for the -Empire, Sir, if we could collar the herring trade.”</p> - -<p>And Colonel Westcott, whose ideals of citizenship were more surely laid -than his knowledge of commerce, would not be able to withhold a grunt of -assent.</p> - -<p>“But, Sir,” I should go on, “the fact is that in order to trade with the -Finns one must be able to speak their language, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_085" id="page_085"></a>{85}</span> you see, Sir, it’s -the only language they’ve got, and they’re very sensitive about it.”</p> - -<p>“Of course, of course, very natural, very natural indeed.”</p> - -<p>“And, Sir, Stone and I, well, I’ve lived there a good deal, and so has -Stone, and we thought, Sir, it might be a good thing to start a Finnish -class.”</p> - -<p>“Admirable, Waugh, of course, if you think you can do it.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, I think we could, Sir,” I should explain. “As I said to Stone, -‘we owe a duty to the State as well as to ourselves, and it would be -very selfish if we went to Finland alone.’ It’s our duty as citizens, -Sir, to think, not in terms of the individual, but of the community.”</p> - -<p>Almost an echo of the Colonel’s own sentiments as expressed in his most -recent jeremiad. How benignly he would beam on us, how he would -recognise in us the objectification of his ideal.</p> - -<p>“I’m very glad, very gratified indeed that you should feel like that,” -he would have<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_086" id="page_086"></a>{86}</span> said. “It’s the right spirit, the sooner you start the -class the better.”</p> - -<p>We should have risen to go, but at the door we should have turned back.</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry to trouble you again, Sir,” I should say, “but there is just -one little point. It’ll mean a great deal of work for Stone and myself. -We shall have no grammar or anything.”</p> - -<p>“Of course, Waugh, I can quite see that.”</p> - -<p>“And there’s very little spare time with these queues and things.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, but I think we shall be able to manage that,” Colonel Westcott -would say. “I don’t see why you shouldn’t both be given Priority Passes. -It’s a very unselfish work, I’ll see about it. I think it’ll be all -right.”</p> - -<p>And within two days our names would appear on the already lengthening -list of privileged persons.</p> - -<p>And then what would happen? The Finnish class would follow the course of -all our studies in the Offiziergefangenenlager,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_087" id="page_087"></a>{87}</span> Mainz. Upwards of -thirty would attend the initial lecture. Within a week this number would -have sunken within the teens, from which it would gradually recede to -the comfortable proportions of five or six. For these few enthusiasts we -should cater, and for their righteousness, as aforetime for Gomorrah’s, -would be issued the divine dispensation—a yellow ticket.</p> - -<p>And what a language it would be. With what fancy would the common -articulation of the everyday world be passed into an æsthetic mould. How -arbitrary would be the rules of taste, what a harmonious blending of -sibilants and liquids. How George Moore would glory in our creation.</p> - -<p>And then I supposed we should begin to tire of our toy; the novelty -would wear off; the lyric impulse would be lost. It would degenerate -into hackwork. And then we should try to get rid of it; with a sort of -false sentimentality we should muse over the pleasant hours we had spent -with it, and wonder if the affection had been returned,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_088" id="page_088"></a>{88}</span> almost as the -hero of a French novel sighs over a discarded mistress.</p> - -<p>Then, of course, there would be Colonel Westcott. We should not wish to -disillusion him, to show ourselves as we really were. We should wish to -maintain the deception to its end. His opinion of us would be very high.</p> - -<p>We should present ourselves to him apologetically, as men for whom the -burden of reforming mankind had grown too heavy. We should give the -Colonel the impression that he and we were pioneers in advance of our -age, stationed at the outposts of progress; that where we stood to-day, -the world would stand to-morrow. But in the meantime....</p> - -<p>“You see, Sir,” I should say, “there are only four fellows learning -Finnish, and none of them, if I may say so, seem to me the sort of -fellows we really want. They’re more of the class of chap who learns a -language merely to be able to say he knows it, and really, Sir, I don’t -know if it’s worth our while to spend so much time on them. You<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_089" id="page_089"></a>{89}</span> were -talking the other day about conservation of energy, Sir.”</p> - -<p>The Colonel would bend confidingly. So far this catchword had not -suggested itself to him. But it was surely only a matter of time.</p> - -<p>“And,” I should continue, “we thought we’d be really doing better if we -were to learn a language ourselves. Stone thought the same, Sir, but he -said, ‘We must ask Colonel Westcott first.’<span class="lftspc">”</span></p> - -<p>“Ah, quite right, quite right, it’s no use wasting our forces. If -fellows won’t back you up, well, it’s their fault, not yours. You’ve -done your best.”</p> - -<p>And doubtless in that moment the Colonel’s thoughts would be flying -forward tentatively to the grey days of demobilisation, to the sundering -of the one river into its many streams. And he could see himself -standing there at the parting of the ways, his averted eyes turned back -to the pleasant pastures, to the unity and harmony of war. He could see -himself as the last relic of a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_090" id="page_090"></a>{90}</span> more golden era, of a cleaner if not -more clever world.</p> - -<p>“And you really think, Sir, that we have done our best?”</p> - -<p>“No doubt about that, oh, none at all,” he would sigh. “I only wish we -had a few more like you in the camp. It’s the right spirit.”</p> - -<p>And we should acknowledge the panegyric with a smile, and leave him to -his dreams and aspirations, his Pan-Saxon Utopia.</p> - -<p> </p> - -<p>But it could not be done. In actuality the scheme would lose its -glamour, its wayward charm. It was better to let it remain in the -imagination, the fresh counterpart of some less noble phenomenon. <i>Aimez -ce que jamais on ne verra pas deux fois.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_091" id="page_091"></a>{91}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI<br /><br /> -<small>THE GERMAN ATTITUDE</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">During</span> those early days the chief interest of our life lay in the -insight it gave into the conditions and psychology of the German people. -For nearly four years we had been at war with this nation, and yet we -knew practically nothing about it. For four years an iron screen had -been drawn between us and them. All the information that we received -came to us through the filtering places of many censorships. We were -told only what the authorities wished us to be told; and of the -countless activities of Germany, report reached us of none that could -bring credit to any nation but our own. But now we were able to converse -freely with German officers and soldiers, and form our own opinion as to -their attitude towards us.</p> - -<p>Of course this opinion is subject to numberless qualifications. Even -from the highest<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_092" id="page_092"></a>{92}</span> window of the citadel only a limited view can be -obtained of a country that has been the subject of so much calumny and -conjecture. Our impressions were confined to one province and one town -in that province; they cannot be said to represent the mentality of -Germany as a whole; and of the five hundred officers confined within the -barracks, each individual has brought home with him a different idea of -Germany and the Germans.</p> - -<p>And again, it may be that personally I have been rather fortunate in my -experiences. Baden-Hessen is one of the least Prussianised Provinces in -Germany, and officer prisoners of war are treated a great deal better -than the men. But I do believe that the conversations I had with various -Germans, both soldiers and civilians, give a fairly accurate index to -the attitude of a large number of the enemy.</p> - -<p>What came as the greatest surprise to me personally was the absence, to -a considerable extent, of all vindictiveness and hate.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_093" id="page_093"></a>{93}</span> Evidence goes to -prove that there was in the early months of the war a good deal of -collective hate; and as a relic of this there were in the shops picture -postcards of sinking battleships headed “Gott strafe England,” and the -cartoons in the illustrated papers such as <i>Simplicissimus</i> and the -<i>Lustige Blätter</i> were all to the tune of “my baton drips with blood.” -But the <i>Frankfurter Zeitung</i>, which is the representative paper of that -part of the country, was absolutely free from articles headed “The -English Beast” or “The Devilish Briton.” It afforded an ideal example of -journalistic continence.</p> - -<p>And it was the same with their poetry and literature. There was much -verse inspired by the same violence as “The Hymn of Hate.” There were -numberless sonnets starting off, “England, du perfides land,” and it is -only this sort of stuff that we have been allowed to read in England. -This is the standard by which the Germans have been judged, and it -presents them in a very false light. For after all, if the “hate” verse<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_094" id="page_094"></a>{94}</span> -that is scattered throughout the English Press were to be taken as -representative of the ideals and the aspirations of the race, we should -show up none too well. For with the majority, no sooner does a man try -to put his thoughts into words, than he loses his bearings. He does not -write what he feels, but what he thinks he should feel. All that is -genuine in him is inarticulate, and the obvious rises to the surface. -And it has followed that in the last four years there has been an -incredible quantity of bad verse written and very little good. But that -little good is the key to the English temperament. The secret longings -of the individual have been revealed not in the type of poem that goes—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“We mean to thrash these Prussian Pups,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">We’ll bag their ships, we’ll smash old Krupps,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">We loathe them all, the dirty swine,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">We’ll drown the whole lot in the Rhine.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>They have found their expression in the deep and sincere emotion of such -poems as “Not Dead,” by Robert Graves, J. C.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_095" id="page_095"></a>{95}</span> Squire’s “The Bulldog,” -Robert Nichols’s “Fulfilment,” and Siegfried Sassoon’s “In the Pink.”</p> - -<p>And working from this basis, it is surely more just to judge Germany -less by the cheap vehemence of Lissauer than by those quiet poems that, -hidden away among pages of opprobrium and rhetoric, enshrine far more -truthfully those emotions that have lingered in the heart of the -suffering individual from the very beginning of time.</p> - -<p>There is a poem on a captured trench that opens with a brief -word-picture of the scene, the squalor, the battered parapet, the dead -men. “Over this trench,” the poet continues—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Over this trench will soon be shed a mother’s tears.<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Pain is pain always,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">And courage is true wheresoever it may be found.<br /></span> -<span class="i1">And in the hearts of our enemy were both these things....<br /></span> -<span class="i1">That we must not forget;<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Germany must love even with the sword that kills.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>That sentiment is universal, it contains the complete tragedy of -conquest.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_096" id="page_096"></a>{96}</span></p> - -<p>And indeed for the individual soldier war is the same under whatever -standard he may fight. German militarism may have been the aggressive -factor, but the individual did not know it. Unless a people feels its -cause to be just, it will not enter into the lists. If it is the -aggressor, then that people must be hoodwinked. The victory lust of 1914 -was a collective emotion springing from the German temperament and from -their belief that they were in the right. The individual soldier went to -battle with feelings not too far removed from our own.</p> - -<p>“The war was a crusade to us then,” a German professor said to me; “we -felt that France and Russia had been steadily preparing war for years. -We felt that they were only awaiting an opportunity. The Russians -mobilised long before we did. They drove us to it.”</p> - -<p>It was in that spirit, he told me, that the German volunteer armed -himself in August 1914.</p> - -<p>“But of course,” he said, “it didn’t last long. The glamour went soon -enough. And<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_097" id="page_097"></a>{97}</span> now, well, all we want is that the war should cease.”</p> - -<p>And in the spring of 1918 the individual outlook in many ways resembled -that of France and England. There was the same talk of profiteers, of -the men who dreaded the cessation of hostilities, of the ministers who -were clinging to office. There was the old talk of those who had not -suffered in the war. It was all very well for the rich, they could buy -butter, they did not have to starve. They managed to find soft jobs -behind the lines. They did not want the war to stop. Indeed, the -resentment against the “shirkers” and “profiteers” was more acute than -the hatred of the Allies. For after all, emotions like love and hate are -not collective. One can only hate the thing one knows.</p> - -<p>And from conversations with this German professor emerged the spiritual -odyssey of his nation. The change from enthusiasm came apparently very -quickly; probably because the Alliance suffered so heavily in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_098" id="page_098"></a>{98}</span> loss of -life, and because its internal troubles were so great. The war weariness -had not taken long to settle; for many months peace had seemed the only -desirable end, and victory in the field was regarded as important only -in as far as it appeared the safest road to this goal. Victory <i>qua</i> -victory they no longer desired.</p> - -<p>This the Imperialists and pan-Germans must have realised, and they had -made it their business to persuade their people that without victory -peace was impossible. A significant illustration of this is afforded by -the change of catchword, as displayed on public notices. Below some of -the early photographs of the Crown Prince was printed “Durch Kampf zum -Sieg”—“Through battle to victory,” and this represented the early -attitude; but by the time that we had arrived in Germany this had been -changed. On many of the match-boxes was a picture of a soldier and a -munition worker shaking hands, and beneath was written, “Durch Arbeit -zum Sieg: Durch Sieg zum Frieden.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_099" id="page_099"></a>{99}</span></p> - -<p>This was what the Imperialists had to keep before the people if they -wished to retain their office and their ambitions. The people were no -longer prepared to sacrifice themselves for some abstract conception of -glory and honour. They wanted peace, and as long as their armies were -able to conquer in the field they were prepared to believe that that was -the way to peace. But if their hopes proved unfounded, they were in a -state of readiness to seek what they wanted by other means.</p> - -<p>It was no longer “zum Sieg” but “durch Sieg”; and in view of what has -since happened, I think, this is an important thing to grasp.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_100" id="page_100"></a>{100}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII<br /><br /> -<small>PARCELS</small></h2> - -<h3>§ 1</h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">Towards</span> the middle of June parcels began to arrive, and the camp became -a very whispering gallery of rumours. It started with a wire from the -Red Cross at Copenhagen stating that a consignment of relief parcels had -been dispatched. From that moment, there was no incident of the day that -was not somehow construed into a veiled reference to Danish bread.</p> - -<p>Lieut. Jones would meet Lieut. Brown on the way to the library.</p> - -<p>“Any news this morning, Brown?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing official.”</p> - -<p>“Then what’s the latest rumour?”</p> - -<p>“Well, I shouldn’t put too much trust in it, old man,” Brown would -answer guardedly,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_101" id="page_101"></a>{101}</span> “but I saw Colonel Croft talking to one of the -Unter-officers this morning.”</p> - -<p>“Did you hear what they were saying?”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Lieut. Brown. “You see, I can’t speak German, but by the way -they were gesticulating and all that, I feel pretty certain it was about -these parcels.”</p> - -<p>And within two hours it was common knowledge throughout the camp that -the Unter-officer of Block II had told Colonel Croft that there were two -hundred parcels within the camp.</p> - -<p>As the days passed, and no consignment arrived, conjecture exceeded -every bound of possibility. It was asserted on the one hand that the -parcels had been commandeered on the way by the German army, and on -another that the parcels had actually arrived and were in the camp, but -that the Commandant had refused to issue them till he had received -instructions from Berlin. During these days there was no epithet with -which the word Boche went uncoupled.</p> - -<p>At last, however, the parcels did arrive; a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_102" id="page_102"></a>{102}</span> large cart was perceived -entering the gate laden with cardboard boxes, and a roseate mist -enveloped the outlook of the <i>Gefangener</i>. The lean years were at an -end, prosperity was in sight, and the flesh-pots of Egypt already -steamed within the imagination. “Bread’s in the citadel, all’s well with -the world.”</p> - -<p>But one thing had been overlooked. A composition of milk and flour is -not improved by the delays of a protracted journey through the metallic -heats of a German summer. The bread was unbelievably mouldy.</p> - -<p>Well, we tried to imagine that we enjoyed it, and it was certainly -something to eat; we doctored it and applied every remedy that the -ingenuity of the R.A.M.C. could devise; but there are limits beyond -which redemption cannot pass. There are stains which only dissolution -can annul, and the freshness of white bread once lost is as -irrecoverable as virginity. Green it was, and green it remained. The -taste of mould was there and baking would not remove it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_103" id="page_103"></a>{103}</span></p> - -<p>Perhaps there was some comfort in the assurances of the doctor that, -after it had been soaked and heated, it could do no active harm: but it -could not change the nature of the object. Sadly it was agreed that -bread was a washout.</p> - -<p>However, it served a moral if not a physical purpose. It was the prophet -of the sunrise, the false dawn that was the inevitable herald of a -readjusted life. If bread could come from Copenhagen, it followed that -the grocery parcels from London were not so immeasurably remote.</p> - -<p>For weeks they had appeared on the horizon far withdrawn, invested with -Utopian glamour. Orderlies who had been captured since Mons had told us -what tins each parcel of the cycle would contain. The list of delicacies -had been devoured by eager eyes, but their existence had always savoured -of the impossible. They were the dreams of some incurable romantic; -there could not really be such things, at least not in Germany. But now -they actually began to approach<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_104" id="page_104"></a>{104}</span> within mortal gaze; after all, the -Citadel Mainz was not so utterly separated from the rational world. The -authorities in England had apparently realised that some six hundred -officers were beleaguered there upon those ultimate islands. An -agreeable reflection; and, once more, conversation centred wholly upon -food.</p> - -<p>And a more barren topic could hardly be discovered. Perhaps some romance -might be woven round the intricacies of a Trimalchio’s banquet, and a -distinguished novelist made one of his characters woo triumphantly his -beloved with a dazzling succession of French <i>pâtisseries</i>; but bully -beef and pork and beans are too solid a matter for anything but a moral -discourse. They have no lyric fervour, their very sound is redolent of -platitudes, and from the beginning of the day up to the very end to hear -nothing but panegyrics on their composition,—it was indeed a trial.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_104fp_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img src="images/i_104fp_sml.jpg" width="366" height="222" alt="Image unavailable: A “PRISON CELL.” - -[To face page 104. - -" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">A “PRISON CELL.” - -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 20%;">[To face page 104.</span> - -</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_105" id="page_105"></a>{105}</span></p> - -<h3>§ 2</h3> - -<p>It was not till the end of June that parcels began to arrive at fixed -and regular intervals, and those were days of great excitement. Each -morning at 8.30 a.m. the names went up on the notice board, and -immediately a cry ran round the barracks, “List up.” Pandemonium broke -loose. The laziest <i>Gefangener</i> leapt from his bed, pulled on a pair of -trousers, dived into the safety of a trench coat, and rushed for the -board. In that space were waged Homeric contests. Some hundred brawny -soldiers were all struggling towards a small board, on which fluttered -the almost illegible carbon copies of the sacred list. There was much -craning of necks, and driving of elbows, much cursing and much -apologising. The weak were driven to the wall; and even when a forward -surge had borne the eager aspirant to the portals of his inquiry, there -remained for him the ardours of retreat. Through a solid square of -humanity he had to drive his harassed frame.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_106" id="page_106"></a>{106}</span></p> - -<p>These were moments of high excitement and of an equivalent depression. -Those to whom the rush for the board had seemed too hazardous an exploit -waited impatiently within the room for the tidings of some enterprising -herald. Anxiously they would lean out of the window looking for a -returning comrade.</p> - -<p>“By Jove,” some one would say, “look, here’s Evans coming.”</p> - -<p>“Has he signalled anything?”</p> - -<p>“No, but he’s coming awful slow. There can’t be anything for him.”</p> - -<p>And sadly Evans would re-enter the room from which he had set forth with -such gay hopes.</p> - -<p>“One for you, Turner; and you’ve clicked, Smith, two for you; and -Piggett, you’ve got one. Nothing for the rest.”</p> - -<p>“Nothing?” echoed the rest.</p> - -<p>“No,” Evans would grunt, and for him, as for the other unfortunates, the -remainder of the day had lost all savour and romance.</p> - -<p>For the lucky, however, the excitement<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_107" id="page_107"></a>{107}</span> of the morning had only just -begun, and a mere name on the parcel list served but as a preliminary -excitant. The real zest of dissipation was still in store. Behind the -barred doors of the “Ausgabe” lay all the innumerable varieties of an -assignation. There might be cigarettes, clothing perhaps, a cycle parcel -from Thurloe Place, or, and this was in parenthesis, a mouldy loaf from -Copenhagen.</p> - -<p>First of all, there was the queue, the inevitable prelude to every form -of punishment and amusement; and in this queue conjecture ran wild on -the probable percentage of bread parcels in the camp.</p> - -<p>“Well, I was standing by the gate yesterday,” one fellow was saying, -“and I saw a load of parcels come in, and damn me if every one wasn’t a -Thurloe Place.”</p> - -<p>“Ah,” but the pessimist would break in, “that was the second load, you -saw. I watched all three come in, and believe me, in the first and last -loads there was nothing but bread.”</p> - -<p>This, however, no one would believe, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_108" id="page_108"></a>{108}</span> the imparter of this rumour -was told to secrete his information elsewhere.</p> - -<p>Slowly the queue moved forward, and at last the claimant passed through -the sacred portals that were watched over by guardian angels in the form -of whiskered sentries with zigzagged bayonets; within the sacred place -there were even more seraphim. Behind a long table stood four slovenly -civilians, whose duty it was to open the parcels, and see that no sabres -or revolvers were concealed beneath the apparent innocence of a tin of -Maconochie’s beef dripping. At a far corner of the table was the high -priest, the master of the ceremonies. He sat there “coldly sublime, -intolerably just,” with a large book in which he entered every name.</p> - -<p>Action proceeded on lines of Teutonic formality. The claimant for a -parcel would first of all present himself before the high priest, and -murmur the number of his parcel.</p> - -<p>“Twenty-one.”</p> - -<p>This the high priest would translate into German with a commendable -rapidity.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_109" id="page_109"></a>{109}</span></p> - -<p>“Ein und zwanzig.”</p> - -<p>He would shout this over his shoulder to one of the many satellites -whose work it was to produce the required parcel. The next few seconds -would be anxious ones for the hungry <i>Gefangener</i>. He would watch the -sentry move about among a store of boxes, moving one, displacing -another. He would lift a parcel so small that it could assuredly contain -nothing but boot polish, and a shiver would pass through the leanly -expectant. But at last, after many vacillations and counter-marches, he -would emerge triumphantly with a cardboard box bearing the large Red -Cross of the Central London Committee.</p> - -<p>But even then there was more to be done. Each parcel had to be carefully -opened and its contents examined. No tins nor paper could be taken away. -Packets of tea and cocoa had to be stripped of their covering and -emptied into baskets, while the tinned foods were spirited away to the -block cellar, where later in the day they<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_110" id="page_110"></a>{110}</span> were opened in the presence -of a number of sentinels.</p> - -<p>The reason for all this palaver we never quite managed to fathom. It was -surely enough that the British Red Cross had pledged its word not to -include for exportation tracts for the times, pulpit propaganda, or -prismatic compasses. With delightful duplicity the German authorities -laid the blame of this on to our Allies.</p> - -<p>“You see,” they said, “we’re very sorry, but the French get so many -things in their tins; poison for our herbs, and knives and files. We -must take precautions. Of course many parcels are quite all right, but -the French, you see....”</p> - -<p>And to our Allies the Germans told the same tale.</p> - -<p>“You see,” they said, “your parcels are all right, but the English hide -corkscrews in their bully beef. We must take precautions....”</p> - -<p>And so another link was added to the immense chain of queues.</p> - -<p>At this time, too, letters and books began<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_111" id="page_111"></a>{111}</span> to arrive, and over these -officialdom wound all the intricacies that it could muster. Letters had -to be fumigated first, each page had to be carefully censored, and -stamped with a large messy blue circle usually deposited over the least -legible portion of the correspondence. And every novel had to be read -from beginning to end.</p> - -<p>Numerous were the regulations. Any reference to Germany was taboo, the -mere mention of the word Hun or Boche was the signal for confiscation. -Of my first consignment of books, two were suppressed. One of them being -rather a prolix novel to the tune of khaki kisses, was not much loss; -but the other, Ford Madox Hueffer’s volume of poems, I made valiant -efforts to save. One evening I caught the censor unprepared, and pointed -out to him that the author was a man of complete literary integrity, and -that nothing he could write could be looked upon as dangerous.</p> - -<p>“Ah, but,” the censor expostulated, “it is all full of Huns and Boche.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_112" id="page_112"></a>{112}</span></p> - -<p>“Ah, well,” I said, “can’t you tear those pages out?”</p> - -<p>“But then there would be no pages left,” and against this assertion -argument was impossible. “And you see,” he went on, “we are not Huns.”</p> - -<p>“No?” I said.</p> - -<p>“No, the Huns were beaten at Chalons in <small>A.D.</small> 453. You have no right to -call us Huns. That is your Northcliffe Press your hate campaign; we are -men the same as you.”</p> - -<p>And it was quite useless to point out that the average soldier applies -the nickname “Hun” or “Boche” or “Jerry” in very much the same way as we -call the Scotch “Jocks” and the Frenchmen “Froggies.”</p> - -<p>The censor would not see it. “You think we are all barbarians,” he -maintained. “It is your hate campaign, and we are not Huns; the Huns -were beaten in 453 at Chalons by the Romans.”</p> - -<p>East of the Rhine there is not much sense of humour.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_113" id="page_113"></a>{113}</span></p> - -<p>And indeed, considering the way in which the Kaiser has compared himself -to Attila, our warders were peculiarly sensitive on this point. And they -always approached it with that strange Teuton seriousness that is for -ever hanging over the crags of the ridiculous.</p> - -<p>At Karlsruhe, on the preceding Christmas, a certain officer, who had -spent most of the afternoon beside a bottle, in the middle of a camp -concert arrogated to himself the right to play a leading part. And -leaping on the stage, he had for the space of half an hour regaled the -audience with an exhilarating exhibition that contained many -good-humoured but forceful references to his “sweet friend the enemy.” -Unfortunately a German censor was present, and the next morning the -officer was testily buttonholed by the sleuthhound.</p> - -<p>“Captain Arnold,” said the censor, “I do not wish to make any trouble -between you and us, but you said last night many things that were most -offensive.”</p> - -<p>Captain Arnold, whose memories of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_114" id="page_114"></a>{114}</span> preceding evening were shrouded -in a mist of cocktails, endeavoured to be jocular.</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, surely not? Not offensive; come now, not offensive.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, indeed they were; most offensive, Captain Arnold. You called -us Huns.”</p> - -<p>The gallant officer realised that he had been indiscreet, and saw that -only one way lay open to him.</p> - -<p>“Hun,” he said. “But why not, that’s what you call yourselves, isn’t -it?”</p> - -<p>The censor looked astonished, and aggrieved.</p> - -<p>“But surely, Captain Arnold, you know what is a Hun?”</p> - -<p>“Not exactly, no.”</p> - -<p>“Very good. I will show you.”</p> - -<p>The next day the censor appeared bearing a history of Germany in three -volumes.</p> - -<p>“Now, Captain Arnold,” he said, “you will find here all there is to -know. It is quite simple; no doubt you will be able to borrow a German -dictionary, so that you can look up the words. You will find all about -it.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_115" id="page_115"></a>{115}</span></p> - -<p>For three days Captain Arnold kept the books, and then returned them -with many thanks and a promise not to repeat his insults.</p> - -<p>“I thought you would understand,” said the German censor. “It is only -ignorance on your part that makes you call us Huns; and now you will -tell your comrades, and they will understand too.”</p> - -<p>And the little man trotted off, happy in the thought that his race had -emerged from the examination triumphantly vindicated.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_116" id="page_116"></a>{116}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII<br /><br /> -<small>OUR GENERAL TREATMENT</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">A great</span> deal has been said and written on the subject of the treatment -of British prisoners of war, and the general idea at the present moment -is one of a succession of unparalleled brutalities and insults. That -much inhumanity has been shown it is neither possible nor desirable to -deny, and it is only just that those responsible should have to give an -account of their actions. But it must be borne in mind that though all -the instances brought forward are perfectly true and authentic, -propaganda aims not at the <i>vraie vérité</i>, but at the establishment of -an argument; and the individual instances, which have formed the -foundations of this conception of inhumanity, do not present a complete -picture of captivity, and should not be taken as typical of every prison -camp.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_117" id="page_117"></a>{117}</span></p> - -<p>Of course one can only write about what one knows. Baden-Hessen is one -of the more moderate provinces; and the treatment of officers is -infinitely better than that of the men. But, speaking from my own -experience, I can say with perfect sincerity that, from the moment when -I was captured to the moment of release, I was not subjected to a single -insult or a single act of brutality. I was treated with as much courtesy -as I should have expected from a battalion orderly-room, and the -discomforts and inconveniences of the journey were due in the main to -faulty organisation. It sounds bad when one hears that a batch of -prisoners were sent on a four days’ journey with rations for one day, -but the corollary that the accompanying German sentries were provided -with exactly the same amount of food casts a very different aspect on -the case.</p> - -<p>The starvation of prisoners has become almost an axiom, and indeed they -were miserably underfed; but so was the entire<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_118" id="page_118"></a>{118}</span> German people, and the -custom of treating prisoners as well as civilians is confined to -England. Among all continental nations it is an understood thing that on -the scale of diet the enemy should come last, and in Germany there was -only enough food for a bare existence.</p> - -<p>In this respect, I believe, officers were much more fortunate than their -men, and certainly they had the great advantage of a permanent address. -For the men were being continually moved from one camp to another. At -one time they would be working in the fields, at another in the salt -mines, sometimes stopping for a couple of months, sometimes only for a -few days. The result of this was that their parcels were trailing after -them right across Germany. At times they would go several months without -one at all, and then if they had the luck to make somewhere a prolonged -sojourn, they might receive thirteen parcels within three days. Of -course the men shared out their parcels as far as possible, but they -were never<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_119" id="page_119"></a>{119}</span> certain what was coming next, and they had many very hungry -days.</p> - -<p>With us there was none of that: we were in a permanent camp, and our -parcels when once they had begun to arrive came through regularly. There -were delays occasionally, especially when heavy fighting involved -congestion of the railways; but eventually we received every parcel -dispatched from a central committee. The only ones that did get lost -were the home parcels that were sent privately. Everything sent from the -Red Cross Committee, or from Harrod’s or Selfridge’s, arrived intact and -in perfect condition.</p> - -<p>As regards actual treatment, owing to the fact that officers were not -made to work, there were very few occasions when physical violence was -possible, cases of this sort generally occurring when men proved -intractable in the factories. The only opportunities that were presented -were when officers tried to get away, and the sentries availed -themselves of these chances pretty generously.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_120" id="page_120"></a>{120}</span></p> - -<p>There were four or five attempted escapes, and on two of these occasions -the officers were badly mauled by the sentries. The second time that -this happened the German orderly officer put a stop to this treatment at -once; but on the first occasion the officer stood by while the sentries -belaboured their captive with the butts of their rifles.</p> - -<p>The would-be Monte Cristos turned to the German officer and asked him if -he considered such treatment proper for a British officer.</p> - -<p>The German shrugged his shoulders. “Oh, well,” he said, “you must expect -this sort of thing if you try to escape. You ought to stop in your -room.”</p> - -<p>Before, this particular German had always been especially agreeable to -us. The only possible excuse for his behaviour lies in the fact that he -was very fond of the bottle, and might have been a little drunk. But -however one looks at it, it was a sufficiently discreditable affair.</p> - -<p>Of the insults and degradations to which the officers of the camp at -Holzminden were<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_121" id="page_121"></a>{121}</span> subjected we had no experience. The Germans adopted -towards us an invariable attitude of respect that was if anything too -suave. They were always profuse with promises, but it was very hard to -get anything out of them.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes,” they would say, “we can do that easily. We will go to the -General and it will be all right. Don’t worry any more about it. We’ll -see to it, it will be quite simple.”</p> - -<p>But nothing ever happened. The simplest request always managed to lose -itself somewhere between the block office and the Commandant’s study; -and gradually we learnt that formal applications were no use whatsoever, -and that if any one wished to change from one room to another, the -surest way to get there was to collect all his baggage into a heap and -move there independently.</p> - -<p>The probable cause of this was the General himself, who was one of the -most arrogant and pompous little men that militarism could produce. He -was the complete Prussian,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_122" id="page_122"></a>{122}</span> the Prussian of the music-hall and the -Lyceum. Very small and straight, he would strut about the parade-ground -clanking his spurs, or else he would stand in a pose, his cloak pulled -back to reveal his Iron Cross. And he was utterly vindictive. One does -not wish to misjudge any human being, but I feel sure he must have -derived an acute pleasure from sitting at his window and looking down on -the court, his eyes hungry for some misdemeanour on our parts, in which -he might possibly find an excuse for some punishment.</p> - -<p>He was certainly given opportunities, and I think that considering the -man he was, it would have been judicious to have approached him in a -slightly different way. But it always happens that the majority have to -suffer for the faults of a few thoughtless people, and several -restrictions were placed on the camp that could have been easily -avoided. In every community there is the rowdy section, and this -rowdiness was accentuated by the lack of freedom. There<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_123" id="page_123"></a>{123}</span> was no outlet -for energy, except a walk round the square, or a very occasional game of -hockey. And the spirits of the swashbucklers found expression in “rags” -organised on an extensive scale.</p> - -<p>But it was unfortunate for those who, having realised that they were -prisoners, wished to make the best of their conditions. And really the -rags were extraordinarily futile. One sportsman conceived the idea of -lowering from the top-story windows dummies which the sentries would -mistake for escaping Britishers and fire at. Luckily this scheme was -suppressed, but there was nevertheless one night a very large and -organised jollification, which was of course exactly what the General -wanted.</p> - -<p>For three weeks he closed the camp theatre, and put a stop to music and -concerts of any description, which meant the removal of the only form of -amusement that we had.</p> - -<p>On another occasion when bombs were being dropped on Mainz, a few -officers began to cheer and shout. It was again playing<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_124" id="page_124"></a>{124}</span> straight into -the General’s hands. He immediately stopped for a period of two months -all walks outside the camp, and any one who has been a prisoner will -know what the curtailing of that privilege meant. It was a great pity, -and our prison life would have been much more easy, if only the -turbulent few had realised that it was in their own interests to keep -quiet, considering the man with whom they had to deal.</p> - -<p>Though as a matter of fact I have little doubt that, however well we had -behaved, the General would have found some excuse for inflicting -reprisals. For he was quite capable of inventing regulations off his own -bat. He was a sort of self-elected dictator, and drew up his own code -and Army Act. His most scandalous infliction was an order that the -covers should be removed from all books before being issued to the camp. -The old excuse was brought forward; the French used to hide maps and -poison between the cardboard and the cloth.</p> - -<p>For this order the General had apparently<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_125" id="page_125"></a>{125}</span> no authority whatsoever, and -it was particularly unjust, because we had been precisely told at -Karlsruhe that all books must come direct from a publisher, so as to -prevent any danger of their being tampered with. The result was that we -had all sent home for new copies of books of which we already had soiled -duplicates, and then when the books arrived, we found that they had to -be practically cut to pieces.</p> - -<p>They told us that the books could be kept for us if we liked, but -naturally we did want to read them, now that they had come, and we had -no other alternative but to authorise their execution; and surely for -the true book-lover there can be no fate more awful than to have to -stand in silence and watch book after book being barbarously mutilated.</p> - -<p>Occasionally we would try and save a volume. The Bible was the centre of -much controversy. There was no reason why it should be regarded as any -more innocent than a Swinburne as a possible receptacle for propaganda, -but the censor did certainly<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_126" id="page_126"></a>{126}</span> hesitate over it for a moment. But -eventually he did not relent.</p> - -<p>“No, I’m afraid it must go,” he said; “after all that God has put up -with during the last four years, He ought to be able to survive this.”</p> - -<p>It was the one flash of wit he showed, but it did little to save our -covers. To all intents and purposes the books were ruined. The leaves -began to turn up at the edges. After a book had been read three times, -the glue at the back had cracked, and the pages gradually loosened. It -was a sorry business; at least two hundred pounds’ worth of books must -have been cut up within three months, and there was absolutely no -authority for the order. This we discovered later on, when we managed to -lodge a complaint before the Central Command at Frankfort. They told us -there that they had no objection at all to the issue of books with -covers, and the restriction was instantly removed; but in the meantime -no small part of a library had been destroyed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_127" id="page_127"></a>{127}</span></p> - -<p>But our chief grievance was a medical one. The organisation of the camp -was quite inadequate to meet the demands of any sudden epidemic. In -ordinary times it certainly worked well enough. Personally I never went -to hospital, but a friend of mine who spent a week in the isolation -hospital brought back a very favourable account of his treatment. The -food was excellent, and the sister was particularly kind, going out of -her way to do everything that lay within her power. But it was very -different towards the end of the autumn, when the grippe was raging in -the camp to such an extent that in the average room of eleven officers, -there was hardly a day when less than four officers were in bed, and the -arrangements were very poor. Of course every allowance must be made for -the fact that there was hardly any medicine in Germany, and that when a -disease had once started there, it was almost impossible to stop it. But -the medical attendance was both ignorant and desultory. Those cases<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_128" id="page_128"></a>{128}</span> -that were removed to the hospital were given, it is true, attendance as -careful as they would have received in England. But in the camp the -doctor appeared to take no interest in his work at all. Very often he -only visited the patients once every three days, and when he came he did -not take much trouble with them. He used to ask a few casual questions -and then say, “Aspirin and tea.” The sick had to rely entirely on the -other occupants of their room, and the help they received was willing -but naturally ignorant. The result was that many officers became very -seriously ill, and several of them died. The German organisation was in -this case criminally inadequate.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_129" id="page_129"></a>{129}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX<br /><br /> -<small>THE DAILY ROUND</small></h2> - -<h3>§ 1</h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">Within</span> a few weeks, however, the arrival of a parcel had ceased to be an -affair of momentous import. We could look on bully beef and Maconochies -with comparative unconcern. The contents of each parcel varied only in -such incidentals as sugar, chocolate, and packets of whole rice. The -framework was the same, a solid enough construction, but one that as a -continuous diet proved ineffably tedious. To begin with, we tried to -make our meals more interesting with improvised puddings. We mixed a -certain number of different ingredients into a bowl of water, beat them -up into a paste, and then baked them in a tepid oven. The result was -usually stodgy and quite<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_130" id="page_130"></a>{130}</span> tasteless. Personal vanity prevented us from -confessing this, and night after night we struggled through these -lukewarm, unpalatable dishes. How long this would have gone on I do not -know; when the end came it came very suddenly.</p> - -<p>One evening there was a lecture in connection with the Pitt League, and -it was rumoured that Colonel Westcott was going to speak. And Colonel -Westcott’s speeches were such that no one would willingly miss. He had -always ready some new panacea, some fresh catchword. As long as he -remained passive he was infinitely entertaining.</p> - -<p>“We must go to this,” said Evans, and with some alarm I noticed that of -the five other members of our mess, four were preparing to move seating -accommodation.</p> - -<p>“That’s all very jolly,” I said, “but who’s going to cook the dinner?”</p> - -<p>The answer came back with a startling unanimity.</p> - -<p>“You.”</p> - -<p>“But look here,” I began to protest,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_131" id="page_131"></a>{131}</span> “you know what I am at these -things. I’ve never cooked a dinner before.”</p> - -<p>“Time you began then.”</p> - -<p>And I was left standing before an empty stove. There remained only one -other member of our mess, my friend Barron, who spent the greater part -of his day asleep. I woke him up.</p> - -<p>“Barron,” I said, “we’ve got to cook the dinner.”</p> - -<p>He blinked up through sleep-laden eyes.</p> - -<p>“But, my dear Alec....”</p> - -<p>“It’s no good,” I said sternly. “If we want anything to eat, and I most -certainly do, we’ve got to cook it ourselves.”</p> - -<p>Slowly Barron rose from his seat.</p> - -<p>“Well,” he said, “what have you got?”</p> - -<p>“There’s a tin of bully, some beans, half a Maconochie, we can make a -stew of that.”</p> - -<p>The stew was the work of a second. We mixed it all up with water, -scattered some salt on the top, and left it to boil.</p> - -<p>“And now the pudding,” I said.</p> - -<p>This proved a more difficult matter. There<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_132" id="page_132"></a>{132}</span> was no rice left, and we had -used the last of the Turban packets.</p> - -<p>“Archie,” I said, “we’ll have to invent one.”</p> - -<p>For five minutes we argued about the ingredients. Hodges wanted to give -it a fish-flavour by adding a tin of salmon and shrimp paste.</p> - -<p>“There’s been no taste to the beastly thing for the last six days,” he -protested. “It might just as well taste of that as nothing.”</p> - -<p>Finally, however, we decided on what we euphemistically dubbed a -chocolate <i>soufflé</i>. First of all we spread a handkerchief flat on the -table, and sprinkled over it a little cornflour. We then took a packet -of cocoa.</p> - -<p>“How much shall I upset?” I asked.</p> - -<p>We read the directions on the outside, but on the subject of chocolate -<i>soufflés</i> the manufacturers were sadly reticent. So as there was no -clear guide, we used the entire packet.</p> - -<p>The mixture now seemed to demand some<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_133" id="page_133"></a>{133}</span> moisture, so we poured a little -warm water on it, and tried to knead it into a dough. But it did not -work: a brown paste adhered to our fingers; nothing more.</p> - -<p>“It won’t bind,” said Barron. “We must put some butter with it.”</p> - -<p>“We’ve got no butter.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, well, then, try some beef-dripping.”</p> - -<p>So the next ingredient was half a tin of dripping, and as regards -appearances it certainly had excellent results. A few minutes’ hard -kneading produced an admirable dough. But when we sucked our fingers -afterwards, the flavour was anything but that of chocolate. It had a -thick and greasy taste.</p> - -<p>“Alec,” said Hodges, “this dripping’s ruined it.”</p> - -<p>“Your idea,” I said cheerfully.</p> - -<p>For a moment he looked fierce, then returned to the matter in hand.</p> - -<p>“Something’s got to be done,” he said; “we’ve got to swamp that dripping -somehow.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_134" id="page_134"></a>{134}</span></p> - -<p>“What about some treacle?” I hazarded. “We drew some this afternoon.”</p> - -<p>And within a minute the bulk of our pudding was further increased by an -entire tin of treacle, and whatever its taste after that, it was -certainly not of dripping.</p> - -<p>“That’s about enough, isn’t it?” I said.</p> - -<p>“Well, you know,” said Archie thoughtfully, “I don’t really think it -would be harmed by some salmon and shrimp. After all, it would help to -counterbalance the dripping.”</p> - -<p>But already I had begun to wrap the handkerchief round the brown sticky -ball. When it was firmly incased and knotted, we lowered it into a small -saucepan, put it on the oven, and waited for the wanderers’ return.</p> - -<p>They came back as usual with a great clatter of feet, expressing their -hunger in the most forcible terms.</p> - -<p>“Hellish hungry,” shouted Evans, “and the dinner’s bound to be awful if -Waugh’s cooked it.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_135" id="page_135"></a>{135}</span></p> - -<p>“You wait,” I said, and plumped the stew down before him. This dish, -probably because it had cooked itself, was quite eatable; and there was -so much of it that in the earlier days it would have formed a meal of -generous proportions. And by the time we had finished it, none of us -felt in the mood for any more solid fare. Something delicate and -appetising would have been delightful, a <i>pêche melba</i> perhaps, but suet -... no. And of course this rather militated against the success of the -chocolate <i>soufflé</i>.</p> - -<p>And to begin with, it was a little burnt. There was a large hole in the -encircling handkerchief, and the bottom of the pudding was black. -Considering the bulk of the pudding, this had really very little effect; -but it prejudiced the others, and the artist has to be so tactful with -his public.</p> - -<p>And then the pudding itself. Well, if we had not had the stew first, I -am sure we should have all enjoyed it; but coming as it did on the top -of a heavy dinner, even Barron and myself were hard driven to finish -it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_136" id="page_136"></a>{136}</span> And it was only self-respect that made us. The others took a -spoonful or two and desisted. Barron and I struggled manfully to the -end, and were then conscious of four steely pairs of eyes. Evans, who -acted as a sort of mess president, was the first to speak.</p> - -<p>“What did you two use to make this pudding?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, nothing much,” I said, in an offhand way; “a little cocoa, a little -treacle, a little cornflour.” Somehow I felt I could not confess to the -dripping.</p> - -<p>“But how much did you use?”</p> - -<p>Barron must be a braver man than I am, or it may have been he was still -feeling a little sore because the salmon paste had not been included; at -any rate he went straight to the point.</p> - -<p>“A tin of each.”</p> - -<p>There was a general consternation. That a whole tin of treacle, half a -tin of dripping, a complete packet of cocoa, had all gone to a pudding -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_137" id="page_137"></a>{137}</span>that only a third of the mess had been able to eat at all ... it was -unbelievable, a gross case of misplaced trust, perfidy could go no -further.</p> - -<p>Barron and myself were not popular that evening. But our peccadilloes -bore fruit later. That chocolate <i>soufflé</i> served the purpose of a -climax. From that day onward it was implicitly understood that no cook -should invent recipes for puddings.</p> - -<h3>§ 2</h3> - -<p>With the regular arrival of parcels, and the consequent immunity from -hunger, our life settled down into that ordered calm which would have -been the constant level of our routine as long as the war lasted. And it -was here that captivity weighed most heavily.</p> - -<p>Before, our routine had always been to a certain extent progressive. We -had been a new camp, we had had to form societies and committees. We had -a library to build up, and there was always the parcel list to add its -daily incentive to enthusiasm. But there came a time, when all these -wishes<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_138" id="page_138"></a>{138}</span> either for books or food were satisfied, and when the individual -had to depend for amusement solely on his own resources. Here was the -real trial of captivity.</p> - -<p>Since my return several people have said to me, “It must have been -beastly living among the Huns.” But that was an infliction that it -required little fortitude to bear. The Huns never worried us, unless we -worried them. We could have exactly as much intercourse with them as we -wanted, and there was no need to have anything to do with them at all. -But there was no escape from the continual presence of five hundred -British officers, and the continual conversation of the ten other -members of the room. For not one moment was it possible to be alone. And -as the evenings grew darker, the doors of the blocks were closed -earlier; and by October we found ourselves shut in at six o’clock, with -the prospect of a long evening in the room.</p> - -<p>Those evenings were simply appalling. We all got on each other’s nerves -horribly;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_139" id="page_139"></a>{139}</span> as individuals we liked each other well enough; but it was no -joke to be in the constant company of the same people, to hear the same -anecdotes, the same opinions; and, owing to the limited area of common -interests, talk always centred on the war. And there is no subject more -wearisomely distasteful. By the end of six months’ imprisonment nearly -every one had got utterly fed up with his room and the inmates of it. -Smith would meet Brown outside the <i>Kantine</i>, and a conversation of this -sort would take place.</p> - -<p>“My Lord, Brown, but my room is the absolute limit, it drives me nearly -wild.”</p> - -<p>“But, my dear man, you’ve got some topping fellows in there, there’s -Jones and Hawkins and May.”</p> - -<p>“I dare say, but you try living with them for a bit. You wouldn’t talk -like that then.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, well,” Brown would say, “you haven’t got much to grumble at; if you -were in my room, now....”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_140" id="page_140"></a>{140}</span></p> - -<p>“But your room, Brown; why, there are some tophole men there....”</p> - -<p>And so the world went round. For indeed, however patient one is, it is -impossible to live in the same room as ten other men, to eat there and -sleep there, to spend half the day in their company, and not get nervy. -Before long we had reached that state when we quarrelled over the most -trifling things—about the dinner, whether we should have bully beef or -a veal loaf. The slightest inconvenience awoke resentment. All the -domestic details that cause friction in the married home were with us -intensified a hundredfold, because there was with us none of the real -and selfless affection which alone can bridge over these difficulties. -Things had reached a sorry state by the time we had left; there was -hardly a single officer who had a good word to say about his room. What -we should have been like after another year I dread to imagine.</p> - -<p>As it was, it was bad enough. For myself I never stayed in the room one -moment more<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_141" id="page_141"></a>{141}</span> than I could help. And often in the evenings after the -doors had been shut, I used to walk up and down the cold stone corridor -with Barron; we would do anything to get away from the room. It was the -only way to preserve our balance.</p> - -<p>And here in its psychological aspect lies, I think, the true meaning of -captivity; for in the bare recital of incidents there must be always a -savour of the soulless. The conditions of life are only really important -in as far as they form a framework for personality. It is the individual -that counts, and the real meaning of eight months’ imprisonment does not -lie in their political or sociological aspect, but in the effect that -they have on character. For each person they had a different message, -each person was touched in a different way. Probably through the mind of -each individual flitted the same recurring moods, modified and altered -by the demands of each particular temperament, but still the moods were -the same fingers playing upon different strings.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_142" id="page_142"></a>{142}</span></p> - -<p>And for me, at any rate, the mood that recurred most frequently was one -of a grey depression, mixed with a profound sense of the futility of -human effort. Confinement inspires morbidity very quickly, and some of -us used to take an almost savage delight in wrenching down the few frail -bulwarks of an ultimate belief. From certain quotations we derived an -exultant satisfaction.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Pleasure of life what is’t? the good hours of an ague.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind">We used to croon the words over to ourselves and endeavour to arrive at -some stoic standpoint from which we could completely objectify ourselves -and our ambitions.</p> - -<p>The wearisome sameness of the days, the monotony of the faces, the -unchanged landscape, the intolerable talk about the war, all these -tended to produce an effect of complete and utter depression. This was -far and away our worst enemy: whole days were drenched in an incurable -melancholia. The continual presence of sentries and barbed wire flung -before us a perpetual symbol of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_143" id="page_143"></a>{143}</span> the intelligence fettered by the values -of the phenomenal world. Life resolved itself into a picture of eternal -serfdom: sometimes the body was enslaved, sometimes the mind, but there -was always some bar to Freedom. It was all so much “heaving at a -moveless latch.” Purposeless and irrevocable.</p> - -<p>It is easy enough to laugh at it all now. But then it was a very real -trial. Those doubts and uncertainties, which at some time or another -assail all men, and with a great many form a silent background or -framework for the events of their mournful odyssey, were with us -continually present; and however gloomy a view one may take of the -universe, one wishes to be able to escape from it at times. And the only -remedy was work.</p> - -<p>Indeed confinement must have been a very real ordeal to those whose -temperaments were not self-sufficient, and who depended on the outside -world for their amusements and distractions. It has been said times -without number that the dreamer loses half<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_144" id="page_144"></a>{144}</span> the pleasure of life, and -that he lies bound up by his own fantasies and wayward creations: that -he has no eyes for what Pater has called “the continual stir and motion -of a comely human life.” Well, Pater wrote that of Attic culture, of the -light-hearted world that is reflected in the pages of the <i>Lysis</i>, and -perhaps modern life presents none too comely an aspect. Certainly in -place of “stir and motion” we have bustle and excitement, a clumsy -fumbling after sensation. Perhaps the dreamer has not lost so very much, -and he does at any rate carry his own world with him: he is -self-sufficient; within the sure citadel of his own soul he can always -find those pleasures which alone have any claim to permanence. Flaubert -is always the same, behind barbed wire as in the shadow of a Wessex -garden: the change of environment makes no difference there.</p> - -<p>But on those who preferred action to contemplation, prison life bore -very heavily, and there was something rather pathetic in the various -attempts that were made to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_145" id="page_145"></a>{145}</span> fight against the growth of listlessness and -apathy. To begin with, of course, every one entered his name on the roll -of the Future Career Society; no one took less than three classes; there -was a general rush to attain knowledge which lasted about three weeks.</p> - -<p>After that, life resolved itself for a great many into a laborious -effort to kill time, and here the Germans showed their commercial -instincts. The <i>Kantine</i> authorities catered for this hunger for -novelty, and from sure knowledge of the depression of markets gauged the -exact moment when each particular craze would begin to ebb.</p> - -<p>The first hobby was wood-carving, an affair so hazardous that the first -day numbered about ten per cent. casualties. It demanded enormous -delicacy. Boxes of all descriptions were on sale, on which were traced -patterns of labyrinthic intricacy; one could cut photo frames, cigar -boxes, paper cutters, and to accomplish this labour there were provided -small knives of a razor-like sharpness, which under the influence of -the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_146" id="page_146"></a>{146}</span> least overweight of pressure flew off the box at an alarming angle, -to bury themselves in the palm of the other hand. It required enormous -patience, and to me appeared one of the most monotonous occupations. It -took hours of work to complete the smallest job.</p> - -<p>This, of course, was not at all what the <i>Kantine Wallahs</i> desired. They -wanted a hobby which would require a lot of material and very little -time. Wood-carving took much too long, and the profits arrived much too -slowly, and so they accelerated the slump in wood-carving by the -innovation of satin-tasso, which was in every way a far more noble -craft.</p> - -<p>To begin with, it gave the personality of the artist a fuller freedom. -In wood-carving individual preference was hopelessly bound down by the -laws of pattern. As in the cast of certain modern painters who having -once conceived a “stunt,” proceed to pour the most unlikely moods into -one artistic mould, the individual was a slave to shapes. Against<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_147" id="page_147"></a>{147}</span> this, -liberty was driven to revolt, and satin-tasso provided the necessary -outlet.</p> - -<p>Even here, of course, there were, it is true, laws and patterns, but -there was full scope for the peculiarities of taste. The satin-tasso box -had on it simply the bare outline of a picture. This one cut round with -a sharp knife, and then proceeded to colour in with special paints; and -in the employment of these paints any extravagance was permitted. -Mediæval costumes offered superb opportunities for splendour and pagan -gold. Across a pearl-flecked sky emerald clouds could fade into a wash -of scarlet. It was truly a noble craft, and the whole business only took -a few hours, which was most advantageous both for the suppliers and the -supplied.</p> - -<p>There is nothing that pleases the craftsman more than the sight of a -finished article, and there is nothing that gives more pleasure to the -tradesman than the swift return of gigantic profits, and both these -wishes were granted. The <i>Kantine</i> did a roaring trade<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_148" id="page_148"></a>{148}</span> in satin-tasso, -and the portmanteaus of the artisan grew heavy with trophies and -souvenirs.</p> - -<p>But all the same it was rather a pathetic sight to see a man of about -twenty-eight, in the prime of life, sitting down every afternoon and -evening, fiddling about with a piece of wood and a box of paints. He -derived no pleasure from it: it merely served the purpose of a narcotic. -As long as his hands were employed his brain would go to sleep, and he -need no longer see the tedious procession of days that lay before him. -He was symbolic in a way of the Public School Education that -deliberately starves a boy’s intellect for the sake of his body. The -type of clean-limbed Britisher, that Public Schools produce, is all very -well in its way, and is infinitely preferable to the type produced by -any other system, either in England or France. Of that there can be no -doubt whatsoever. But the schoolmasters who adopt this line of argument, -forget that they are dealing with a material refined upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_149" id="page_149"></a>{149}</span> by the -breeding of centuries. The question is not, “Is the material good?” -because it is. The question is, “Does Education make the best of this -material?” and I am very certain that it does not. Every man should have -sufficient part in the intellectual interests of life, to be able to -keep his intelligence active for eight months in surroundings that -provide no physical outlets. For after all, it is the mind, or, to use -Pater’s phrase, “the imaginative reason” that counts.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Thank God that while the nerves decay<br /></span> -<span class="i1">And muscles desiccate away,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">The brain’s the hardiest part of men<br /></span> -<span class="i1">And thrives till threescore years and ten.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>And it is surely a severe condemnation of any system that its average -products can derive no sustenance from the contemplative side of life, -that the moment they are out of the theatres, they have absolutely no -resources left. It would have given me the most acute satisfaction to -have been able to escort there some of the many schoolmasters who so -fiercely defended themselves behind<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_150" id="page_150"></a>{150}</span> the legend, “By our works ye shall -judge us,” which was exactly what I tried to do.</p> - -<p>The narrow limits of our captivity provided us with only one other -craze, the last and the most decadent, for which reason, probably, it -was the only one to which I succumbed—Manicure. It was really a -tempting lure. One evening I went to the <i>Kantine</i> to buy a pencil, and -saw a row of beautiful plush boxes, in which reposed long-handled files, -and scissors, and knives; and beside these were bottles of delicate -scents and polishes and powders, strangely reminiscent of Amiens. The -lure was too great, and forty marks went west.</p> - -<p>From that day onwards our room was a sort of general manicuring saloon. -Several of us bought sets, and from 8 p.m. to 10 p.m. we received -visitors. As our guests received treatment gratis, and the initial -outlay towards the opening of the saloon was sufficiently generous, it -might have been thought that our guests came out of the transaction -rather well. But they paid richly<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_151" id="page_151"></a>{151}</span> for their adornment in pain. We were -all amateurs, and the manipulation of a pair of curved scissors requires -feminine skill; no one has ever yet called me neat-fingered, and those -scissors were very sharp. During the operations of our first fortnight, -of all those who came to us with gay step, there were few who went away -without at least one finger swathed in bandages.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_152" id="page_152"></a>{152}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X<br /><br /> -<small>HOW WE DID NOT ESCAPE</small></h2> - -<h3>§ 1</h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">As</span> military regulations state that it is the duty of every prisoner of -war to make immediate and strenuous effort to escape, and as every man -is at heart an adventurer, it is not surprising that our languid -community was from time to time regaled by the rumours of impending -sorties.</p> - -<p>No one has ever yet managed to escape from Mainz, and even if the war -had lasted for another twenty years, I believe it would have retained -its impregnability. For the citadel had been constructed so as to resist -the old-fashioned frontal assault, in which infantry without the aid of -a barrage endeavoured to demolish vertical walls. Round the buildings -ran stone battlements<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_153" id="page_153"></a>{153}</span> usually fifty feet high. At any point where it -would be possible to jump down was stationed a sentry, and between these -battlements and the buildings were two distinct chains of wire netting, -that were continually patrolled. At an early date I decided that, in my -personal case, the possible chances of escape in no way counteracted the -enormous inconvenience to which an attempt would inevitably put me. And -if I did get away, it would result in the probable loss of the greater -part of my library, and of all my MSS. All things considered, it hardly -seemed worth while.</p> - -<p>But for other and more daring spirits personal inconvenience was a thing -of trifling importance. They would talk of their duty, of their hatred -of the Hun, of their desire to be in the thick of things again. But the -chief allurement was the love of <i>réclame</i>: every man is at heart a -novelist; and they would picture to themselves the days of “What did you -do in the great war, Daddy?” and the proud answer, “I escaped<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_154" id="page_154"></a>{154}</span> from -Mainz,” and there was also the glory of standing in the centre of the -stage. They liked to be talked about in undertones, to hear a whisper of -“Don’t tell any one, but that fellow’s going to try and beat it -to-morrow.” They hankered after excitement, and in consequence when -their schemes began to ripen to maturity, they enveloped their actions -in all the theatrical paraphernalia of Arsène Lupin. It was wonderful -what they made themselves believe. Spies were lurking everywhere, and in -consequence their every action had to be most carefully concealed. One -officer, who thought he was being hoodwinked, disguised himself by -shaving off his moustache, and wearing a cap all day to hide the -thinness of his hair. Of course to those who really took the business -seriously every credit is due. They spent hours preparing maps, and -ropes, and many marks in bribing sentries. But to the majority an escape -consisted chiefly in a bid not for liberty but for fame. For it was only -with the most deep and carefully<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_155" id="page_155"></a>{155}</span> laid plans that any one could have -hoped to get away.</p> - -<p>It is unnecessary to say that in the machinery of these enthusiasms our -old friend Colonel Westcott played his heroic part. When he amalgamated -into his Pitt League such existing organisations as the Future Career -Society, he considered that he had taken under his wing all the imperial -activities of the camp; and so one branch, and a very select branch, of -his scheme included those desirous of freedom. It was quite a harmless -affair, this little society, and in no way jeopardised the chances of -escape. All that the Colonel wanted was to feel that he had a share in -every sphere of the life of which he was the central embodiment. He -liked to have these young fellows sitting round him discussing their -plans; he liked to be able to drop here and there the necessary words of -advice; it was an understood thing that no one was to attempt to escape -without first submitting his ideas to the Colonel; and within a brief -time this<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_156" id="page_156"></a>{156}</span> amiable gentleman had led himself to believe that he was the -fount from which all these alarums and excursions flowed.</p> - -<p>The first attempt did not take place till we had been prisoners a little -over four months, but its preliminaries began a good deal earlier. One -of the accomplices was in the same room as myself, and for weeks he used -to carry about with him an air of mystery. In a far corner of the room -he would be observed tracing maps of the various roads to the frontier, -and from time to time he would take me quietly aside.</p> - -<p>“Don’t tell any one,” he said, “but I’m going to clear soon, and I’m -getting the maps. I tell you, of course, because—oh, well, you’re in my -room, and all that. But keep it dark.”</p> - -<p>He spoke like that to nearly all of his acquaintances. It is all very -well to talk of breaking laws just for the fun of the thing, but one -does want the rest of the world to know what a devil of a fellow one -is.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_157" id="page_157"></a>{157}</span></p> - -<p>I remember one Sunday afternoon, at school, how I cut the cord of the -weight on the chapel organ, with the result that that evening the music -suddenly stopped and the choir wrecked. It was a noble piece of work, -which I surveyed with a justifiable pride. But I was not really -satisfied till I had told the whole house about it; naturally, of -course, swearing each individual to secrecy.</p> - -<p>“Don’t tell a soul, of course, old man. I should get in a hell of a row -if it was found out.”</p> - -<p><i>Suave, mari magno</i>.... When one is perfectly safe, it is delightful to -imagine all the punishments that might have been visited on one, if the -Fates had been less kind; we always hunger for sensation; from the -security of a warm fire the imagination gloats over the ardours of -warfare and the splendours and agonies of adventure. We like to feel -that danger overhangs us; we shiver with apprehensive delight beneath -the sword of Damocles. We like to be told that there will be a social -upheaval within<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_158" id="page_158"></a>{158}</span> our lifetime. Perhaps it will come in five years’ time. -Perhaps to-morrow. At any rate, to-day we are secure. And it was in this -spirit that the glamorous web was woven round that first escape.</p> - -<p>The efforts that were made to avoid suspicion were superb. The -conspirators felt that anything might give away their secret. Had not -Sergeant Cuff found at one end of a chain of evidence a murderer and at -the other a spot of ink on a green baize tablecloth? and so they left -nothing to chance. A loose board beneath the stove served as an -admirable hiding-place for maps and plans. And in consequence our room -was used as a sort of general dump.</p> - -<p>It was a great nuisance; they would do the mystery stunt so very -thoroughly; and it was such a noisy business. To open their underground -cupboard a few nails had to be abstracted, and a few wedges applied. The -resultant noise would have woken not the least suspicion in even the -most distrustful Teuton, and would have played a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_159" id="page_159"></a>{159}</span> very insignificant -part amid all the accumulated turmoil of the day. But no risks must be -run. And so while the cupboard was being prized open, an operation that -would sometimes take over ten minutes, one of us had to be detailed to -go outside and break up wood so as to disguise the noise. It was a -deafening business, that occurred two or three times each week; and it -did not seem as if the contents of this cupboard demanded such strict -secrecy. I once asked what they kept there.</p> - -<p>“Only a few papers,” was the answer, “a compass and provisions for the -journey.”</p> - -<p>That a compass, being contraband, should be carefully concealed, I could -well understand. But the papers consisted of a field officer’s diary and -a few maps abstracted from the backs of a German Grammar; while the bag -of provisions contained only those delicacies that we received in -parcels, of which chocolate formed the greater part. And a more -unhealthy place to store it, it would be hard to find.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_160" id="page_160"></a>{160}</span></p> - -<p>“Look here,” I said one day, “what’s the idea of keeping that chocolate -there?”</p> - -<p>“To escape with, of course. Splendid stuff for giving staying power.”</p> - -<p>“But why can’t the fellow keep it in his room?”</p> - -<p>I was immediately fixed with that sort of look that seems to say, “Good -Lord, do such fools really exist!”</p> - -<p>“My good man,” he said, “how could he keep it there? It would give the -whole show away at once. What would you think, if you were a German -officer, and found a big store of chocolate in one of the cupboards? -What would you think of it?”</p> - -<p>There was only one answer to that.</p> - -<p>“That the ass didn’t like it, I suppose.”</p> - -<p>But my remonstrance was useless, and soon I began to regard these noises -and secrecies as part of the inevitable machinery of prison life.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_161" id="page_161"></a>{161}</span></p> - -<h3>§ 2</h3> - -<p>The first attempt savoured, it must be confessed, very strongly of the -ludicrous. The protagonists were three colonels who had managed to -provide themselves with German money and with suits of civilian clothes, -made, so it was reported, out of dishcloths. They chose as their -headquarters a room situated directly above the main gate. It was a drop -of some forty feet to the ground, and a sentry box was stationed -immediately underneath. The chances of getting away were in consequence -very small, but there was, at any rate, no need for preliminary -manœuvres among the meshes of wire netting. The gallant adventurers -relied solely on the somnolence of the sentry. It was a cold, rainy -night, and their experience of guards at depôts might well have led them -to expect a certain lack of enterprise and enthusiasm on the part of -their warder. Nor were they disappointed.</p> - -<p>It began to rain heavily, and after a few<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_162" id="page_162"></a>{162}</span> deprecatory glances at the -heavens, the sentry sat down in his box, and within a few moments -appeared to be unconscious of the external world. From the window of -Block I a rope made out of a blanket was immediately lowered, and the -colonel began his precarious descent.</p> - -<p>And then the rain stopped.</p> - -<p>The sentry, roused apparently by the sudden cessation of sound, blinked, -rubbed his eyes, and cast them heavenwards, and saw midway between earth -and sky a figure swinging from a rope. Well, he must have been something -of a philosopher, that sentry: he was in no way perturbed by the -apparition. He rose languidly to his feet, blew his whistle to summon -the guard, and waited patiently at the foot of the rope.</p> - -<p>It must have been a very amusing spectacle. Very slowly and very -gingerly, hand under hand the colonel descended, and when he was within -reaching distance the sentry helped him very gently to the ground and -escorted him to the guardroom. The other</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_162fp_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img src="images/i_162fp_sml.jpg" width="241" height="324" alt="Image unavailable: A GALLANT ATTEMPT TO ESCAPE. - -[To face page 162. - -" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">A GALLANT ATTEMPT TO ESCAPE. - -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 20%;">[To face page 162.</span> - -</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_163" id="page_163"></a>{163}</span></p> - -<p class="nind">conspirators, seeing the fate of their chief, hastened bedwards with all -possible speed, and when the orderly officer came round they imitated -with considerable ability the righteous indignation of a man who is -woken up after a three hours’ sleep.</p> - -<p>This attempt was the signal for frequent and repeated excursions. The -lead once given, there were found many ready to follow it; and there was -considerable comfort in the assurance that the sentries had orders not -to fire unless they were charged. And so for the remainder of our -captivity the camp buzzed with rumours.</p> - -<p>No one ever got away. Occasionally the first strand of netting was -penetrated, but nothing more; and it must have been a poor form of -amusement. For the desperadoes always chose a night of rain and wind in -the hope that the sentries might have sought consolation within their -huts, and it can have been no fun crawling on one’s stomach, over sodden -gravel, getting soaked and cold; and as the night of capture was always -spent<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_164" id="page_164"></a>{164}</span> in the guardroom, it was a sport that can have held out few -inducements.</p> - -<p>For the cowardly, however, it did add a spice and flavour to existence. -On these nights of danger we used to lie awake patiently listening. The -hours would drift by. Twelve o’clock, one o’clock, it looked as if they -had got away after all; and then, sure enough, would come the alarm, two -whistles would shriek loud above the drip of the rain, there would be a -scurry of feet; and then a few minutes later we would see the -unfortunate beings escorted to the cells.... We would do all we could -for them; we would clamber on to the window sill and would shout our -condolences; and these friendly wishes would on the next day as likely -as not serve as an excuse for the General to place upon us some further -restriction, as punishment for what he considered an unmannerly -exhibition of independence.</p> - -<p>Of these bold bids for freedom none stood any very real chance of -success, and towards the end they became somewhat discredited,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_165" id="page_165"></a>{165}</span> as they -involved certain inconveniences on those who had resigned themselves to -their fate. There would be additional roll-calls, and precautions. Whole -rooms were searched and ransacked, a most disagreeable proceeding. And -on one occasion the attempt was made from the theatre, which led to the -closing of that hall of pleasure during an entire morning while the -complete staging apparatus was overhauled, and examined. This caused -genuine annoyance, especially as the ravages of the soldiery delayed for -three days a performance that had been the centre of much curiosity and -conjecture. And this annoyance became almost indignation, when it -transpired that this herald of defiance had provisioned himself for his -long journey with nothing more substantial than a tin of skipper -sardines, two oxo cubes, and a tin of mustard. The general opinion was -that if a man was “such a damned fool as to carry that sort of stuff -about with him, he had no right to try to escape, upsetting arrangements -and all.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_166" id="page_166"></a>{166}</span></p> - -<p>And on this type of sally the theatre incident rang down the curtain. -But under this category it is impossible to number the attempts of -Colonel Wright. His methods were very different; they were not showy; he -did not talk about what he was going to do. And as a result he very -nearly succeeded.</p> - -<p>The chief ingenuity of the Scarlet Pimpernel lay, as far as I can -remember, in his grasp of the fact that it is the obvious that evades -suspicion. Sentries are on the lookout for an escape by night, but by -day they are off their guard. And working on this plan, both Colonel -Wright’s attempts were made by daylight. Indeed they were both so simple -that in cold blood they looked quite ridiculous. The first attempt -failed completely, and but for his later achievement, one might have -been tempted to wonder how the gallant colonel could have expected any -different result.</p> - -<p>Alone of the Pitt Escape League he literally did not progress a yard; -not one foot did he<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_167" id="page_167"></a>{167}</span> advance. In broad daylight he was arrested where he -stood, or rather, where he sat, for it was in that position that he was -discovered.</p> - -<p>The plan was not elaborate. Once a week a cart from the laundry came to -collect dirty linen from the camp and take it away to be cleaned. And to -keep a check on the returns, a British orderly always went with it. -Colonel Wright’s scheme was to impersonate the orderly, to get himself -conducted safely outside the gates, and once there to rely on his own -speed and ingenuity to effect an escape. It might have come off; there -was an outside chance, remote certainly, but still a chance; however, he -was given no opportunity of gauging his share of the two requisite -abilities. It is true he got into the cart and sat quietly in a far -corner; but before even the harness had begun to jingle, he had been -recognised and arrested. A grey business, but he was in no wise daunted. -And within a few weeks he had his hand to the wheel again.</p> - -<p>His second scheme was considerably more<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_168" id="page_168"></a>{168}</span> elaborate, but was none the -less sufficiently obvious. Zero hour was fixed for half-past five, and -at five o’clock in a far corner of the square preparations were begun -for a boxing match. Towels and chairs were set out, sponges and bowls of -water appeared, and two brawny Scotsmen shivered in greatcoats. There -had been no previous notice of this engagement, but interest was -speedily kindled, and within a quarter of an hour quite a large crowd -had assembled. The close of the opening round was the signal for a -marked display of enthusiasm. And it was in the middle of the second -round that Colonel Wright made his dash. No one noticed him. The -sentries were absorbed in the boxing, and those whose attentions showed -signs of wandering were engaged in conversation by two field officers -who could speak German. And Colonel Wright, clad in a suit of civilian -clothes, cut through the wire netting of the first entanglement, and -dashed across the open. In a few seconds he had swarmed over the second -series and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_169" id="page_169"></a>{169}</span> was out of sight. It was a most daring and brilliant piece -of work. All that remained for him now was to lie till nightfall in the -shadow of the wall. Then when it was dark he could choose an auspicious -moment and lower himself to the ground.</p> - -<p>It was a plan that certainly deserved success, and as the hours passed -we began to hope that some one had at last got clean away. There was -some anxiety lest his absence should be spotted at roll-call, but when -nine o’clock came and went, we felt that all was well. And then just -before ten o’clock the two whistle blasts rang out. Colonel Wright had -been retaken.</p> - -<p>And if the story that we heard afterwards is true, chance was -outrageously unkind. He had waited till it was quite dark, and had -carefully watched for the moment when the beat of the outside sentry -carried his warders out of earshot. He had then lowered himself from the -wall; and it was here that his luck deserted him. For a couple of lovers -had selected that particular part of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_170" id="page_170"></a>{170}</span> battlements as a shelter for -their amorous dalliance. And the point at which Colonel Wright would -have landed was removed from them by scarcely a dozen yards. He was -instantly detected. Yet, with a very little luck, things might still -have turned out favourably; for the man, who seemed sufficiently -intrigued with his partner, gave him only a cursory glance and returned -to the matter in hand; but the woman, with an eye to advertisement, -characteristic of her sex, gave expression to her feelings in a series -of piercing shrieks. Colonel Wright was instantly arrested.</p> - -<p>The sentries found on him a hundred marks of German money, and a railway -ticket to Frankfurt. And if he could only have got clear of the camp, I -believe he would have had little difficulty in getting to the frontier. -For he spoke German excellently and had friends in that part of the -country. He had also the nerve and ingenuity which alone could have -rendered such a feat possible. This the authorities must<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_171" id="page_171"></a>{171}</span> have realised; -for a few days later he was moved to another camp. What he did there, we -do not know. But rumour has it that on the journey he made three more -attempts to break away. And doubtless in a camp with fewer natural -defences he would sooner or later have succeeded in outwitting his -captors.</p> - -<p>But as regards Mainz the gloomy record of its impregnability still -stands. At one time or another it has been the temporary home of -Russians, French and English; all three have in their turn tried to -escape, and all have failed. After four years of warfare Mainz is still -the inviolable citadel.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_172" id="page_172"></a>{172}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI<br /><br /> -<small>THE ALCOVE</small></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Each</span> week the Pitt League posted up on the walls of the theatre a notice -of the times and places of the various classes that were to be held. -There were some six rooms at the disposal of this enterprising society. -There was the attic at the top of Block I, a noisy room because the -dramatic society would probably be found rehearsing next door; then -there was the theatre, an impossible room; in the first place because it -was too big, and in the second because the scenic artists behind the -curtain carried on a continual dialogue to the tune of: “Where is that -blue paint?” “Have you put up the wings?” “Where the hell’s the hammer?” -which dialogue the scene-shifters accompanied with suitable crashes and -landslides. It was a poor room for study—the</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_172fp_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img src="images/i_172fp_sml.jpg" width="374" height="220" alt="Image unavailable: THE BILLIARD ROOM AT MAINZ. - -[To face page 172. - -" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">THE BILLIARD ROOM AT MAINZ. - -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 20%;">[To face page 172.</span> - -</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_173" id="page_173"></a>{173}</span></p> - -<p class="nind">theatre; and then there was the field officers’ dining-room—that was -not too bad. But one window-pane was missing, and there was no heating -apparatus, and the orderlies were always wanting to lay the plates; -altogether there was not a superfluity of spare space; there was really -only one decent room—the Alcove—and that was for one hour of the day -allotted to the botanists and anatomists. For the rest of the time an -agenda at the bottom of the Pitt League poster announced that “the -Alcove was reserved for authors, architects and other students.”</p> - -<p>The Alcove was a small room opening out of the billiard-room, and its -possession by the “authors, architects and other students” was a -privilege jealously guarded. Not that we ever resorted to force, the -mere strength of personality was sufficient. A few acid epigrams drove -the intruders away with the impression that after all there were -lunatics in the camp. Only one man stayed for more than an hour, and -that was Captain Frobisher,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_174" id="page_174"></a>{174}</span> a large, fat man who was doubtless an -excellent soldier, but who was not an addition to a literary society -that prided itself upon its exclusiveness. After all, when one is -searching for a lost rhyme, or trying to make an honest scene -sufficiently obscure to protect Canon Lyttelton’s delicate -susceptibilities, it is disconcerting to have to listen to a -conversation of this sort:—</p> - -<p>“ ... And what do you think of the new offensive, Skipper?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, we’ll wipe the swine off the face of the earth. I hope our men -don’t take too many prisoners. There’s only one sort of Hun that’s any -use, and that’s a dead one. Excreta, that’s all they are, excreta.... -What I say is, smash ’em, and then when they’re down tread on ’em. -That’s all they’re fit for. A good Hun is a dead Hun.”</p> - -<p>Of course such rhetoric is excellent in its place, and in the mouth of a -politician would appear as the supreme unction shed over the warring -banners of humanity. But there are times....<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_175" id="page_175"></a>{175}</span></p> - -<p>Frobisher must go. We all decided that. The only difficulty was that ... -well, even in confinement one must show respect to a senior officer. It -would have to be done with considerable tact; we could hardly approach -him ourselves. We supposed that if he really wanted, he could defend -himself on the ground that he was a student, a student of the -philosophical interpretation of a dozen cocktails. But yet he had to go. -And finally Stone undertook the job.</p> - -<p>It took two bottles of Rhine wine to screw him up to the proper pitch, -but we got him there at last; and nobly did he fulfil our trust. It was -an unforgettable afternoon. Captain Frobisher was sitting at the middle -table discussing over a bottle of wine his schemes for the entire -destruction of the German race. The old saws were rolling smoothly from -his tongue.</p> - -<p>“We must let them have it; what I say is, starve them out, bomb their -towns, confiscate their colonies; then make them<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_176" id="page_176"></a>{176}</span> pay right up to the -hilt, a crushing indemnity. They’d have done the same to us. An eye for -an eye. That’s the principle we must work on, a tooth for a tooth.” Even -a patriotic bishop could not have been more humanely vindictive.</p> - -<p>And then we led in Stone.</p> - -<p>He sat on the edge of the table nearest to the captain; his huge head of -hair was flung back in a wild profusion, his shirt was open at the -throat, he looked for all the world like a second Byron. And for the -space of an hour he lectured on the higher life. As a testimony to the -potency of the Rhine vintage, it was without parallel. It was a noble -exposition.</p> - -<p>He began with Schopenhauer; the jargon of metaphysics reeled into -anacolutha: the absolute, the negation of the will; the thing in itself; -phenomena, and the real. The mind was dazed with the conflicting -theories of causation, and after each sounding peroration he recited in -a crooning monotone the less cheerful musings of the Shropshire Lad;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_177" id="page_177"></a>{177}</span> -while we, entering into his mood, gazed up at him with enraptured eyes, -murmuring: “Delightful! Oh, delightful!”</p> - -<p>Captain Frobisher fidgeted nervously on his form, he moved first to one -extremity, then to another. Periodically he attempted a conversation -with his companion; but every time he began, Stone broke into a state of -fervour more than usually impassioned, and Frobisher’s attention was -irresistibly drawn towards this strange creature who had emerged -suddenly out of a world he did not know. Stone realised his traditional -conception of the romantic poet, the long-haired, sprawling, -effervescent creature that he had never seen, but that he had been told -the war had killed. And here into the very centre of Mainz, into this -home of militarism, was introduced the loathsome atmosphere of Paris and -the Café Royal, this unpleasant reincarnation of the hectic nineties.</p> - -<p>For an hour he stood it, and then Stone arrived at the point to which -all his previous<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_178" id="page_178"></a>{178}</span> eloquence had led. “I don’t know,” he said, “I have -thought it out for a long time, but I am still uncertain as to which of -all the collective emotions has done most harm, has wrought most damage -to the suffering individual. Once I thought it was religion, religion -with its bigotry and ritual, its confessional and chains; but during the -last four years I have been sorely tempted—sorely tempted, my dear -Waugh—to believe that of all the evils that can befall a community, -there is none worse than the scourge of Patriotism.”</p> - -<p>It was the limit, beyond which even the endurance of a soldier could not -pass. Captain Frobisher threw at Stone one glance charged with distrust, -and strode from the room. He never entered it again; and the “authors, -architects and other students” were able to return to earth, and become -once more respectable citizens.</p> - -<p>Of the architects and other students we saw very little. Occasionally a -linguist would drift in with a conversation grammar<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_179" id="page_179"></a>{179}</span> and a notebook, and -sometimes a financier would draw up tables of expenditure and loss, but -on the whole the Alcove was the property of “Wordsmiths.”</p> - -<p>There were about five of us in all, and as soon as <i>appel</i> was over we -used to proceed towards the billiard-room laden with pens and paper. At -this early hour there were usually not more than three of us, as Tarrant -and Stone preferred to take breakfast at a later hour; but Milton Hayes -was invariably to be found there, embellishing lyrics, or putting the -final touches to his musical comedy, and in the intervals of production -expounding his latest æsthetic theories.</p> - -<p>A vivid contrast was presented by Tarrant and Stone. With popular taste -they were both equally unconcerned. Relative merit interested them not -at all; their standards were deep-laid and inelastic.</p> - -<p>Tarrant usually appeared in the Alcove at about one o’clock, and -observed a ritual that would with any one else have savoured of -affectation, but was with him perfectly<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_180" id="page_180"></a>{180}</span> natural. Nature had endowed him -with generous proportions, more built for comfort than for speed; and he -accentuated the natural roll of his gait by his strange footwear. A pair -of field boots had been abbreviated into shoes by the camp cobbler in -such a way as to admit of the insertion of two fingers between the -leather and the instep. To keep them on his feet as he walked, Tarrant -had to resort to a straddle that was one of the features of camp life. -And as he entered he bulked largely in the door of the Alcove, -marvellously shod, carrying under one arm a dictionary, a notebook and a -Thesaurus, and over the other a cardigan waistcoat and a green velvet -scarf.</p> - -<p>He flung his books noisily on the table and then proceeded to array -himself for the ardours of composition. He first of all divested himself -of his collar and tie, and wrapped round his throat the green velvet -scarf, that would have lain more appropriately as a stole on the -shoulders of an ecclesiastic than it did as a muffler on those of a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_181" id="page_181"></a>{181}</span> -<i>Gefangener</i>, engaged on a psychological study of seduction. Tarrant -then removed his tunic, disclosing a woollen waistcoat, over which he -proceeded to draw the second woollen coat that he had brought with him. -He explained that they brought him physical ease.</p> - -<p>“You see, old man,” he said, “it’s not much use my mind being free, if -my limbs are encased in even the loosest of military tunics.”</p> - -<p>He then proceeded to work.</p> - -<p>Every writer, of course, has his own particular foible, and Tarrant’s -was an appalling accuracy in gauging the exact number of words that he -had written. Most writers are quite content to add up the number of -lines in a page, then find the average number of words in a line and -multiply. But Tarrant would have none of these slipshod methods.</p> - -<p>“On that principle,” he said, “I suppose you’d call a line a line -whether it goes right across the page or not?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” I confessed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_182" id="page_182"></a>{182}</span></p> - -<p>He gave a grunt of contempt.</p> - -<p>“And then you say <i>The Loom of Youth</i> is 110,000 words long; why, half -the lines you call ten words long only consist of two words—‘Bloody -Hell.’ That’s not the way to do things.”</p> - -<p>And so Tarrant laboriously added up every word. It became quite a mania -with him. So much so, in fact, that he used to embark on long -discussions as to the derivation of amalgamated words, and whether -“lunch-time” should count as two or one. For his rough draft he kept -beside him a small slip of paper, on which at the end of each sentence -he used to make mathematical calculations, that reminded me of school -cricket, the scoring box, and the attempt to keep level with the tens.</p> - -<p>Correction involved much labour. At the end of the sentence he might -have noted down 277 words. Then he would revise; half a clause -consisting of eight words would be omitted, and on the slip of paper -down went 269. Then a celibate noun called for<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_183" id="page_183"></a>{183}</span> an adjectival mate, and -270 was hoisted amid applause. It was an amusing game, but it took up a -great deal of time. Very rarely did Tarrant produce more than 400 words -as the result of three hours’ work, and his absolute maximum for a day -was 1100.</p> - -<p>“All great men work slowly,” he said. “Flaubert took seven years over -<i>Madame Bovary</i>, and I shall take only a year over this,” and with a -sudden sweep he flashed the discussion back on to his pet subject of -words.</p> - -<p>“You see, I’ve done 48,374 words, and there are three more chapters of -approximately 3000 words each. Now will that be enough?”</p> - -<p>I told him that Mr. Grant Richards had stipulated in one of his weekly -advertisements, that if he liked a book, it could range between the -limits of 45,000 and 200,000 words, and Tarrant once more returned -peacefully to his addition.</p> - -<p> </p> - -<p>Stone, Tarrant’s constant companion through the tedium of eighteen -months’<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_184" id="page_184"></a>{184}</span> imprisonment, was chiefly conspicuous for his conversation. -Nobody ever actually saw him writing, or had indeed read anything he had -written, but he always carried about with him a notebook, that gave the -impression that he had either just risen from his labours, or was merely -waiting the inspiration of the moment. As a scholar and a critic he was -easily the most brilliant of our little circle, and it was delightful to -hear him dethrone the idols of the twentieth century. He had very little -use for any critic since Pater, or any novelist since Sterne. Of the -modern novelists he maintained that the only two worth considering were -H. H. Richardson and Arnold Bennett, though to Gilbert Cannan he -extended a hand of deprecatory welcome. Wells was the chief target of -his wit.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know what to make of him,” he used to say. “Sometimes I think -we may almost excuse him on the ground that if he had not written the -<i>New Machiavelli</i>, <i>Perkins and Mankind</i> would not exist. But, really,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_185" id="page_185"></a>{185}</span> -as I read his recent stuff, <i>Marriage</i>, <i>The Soul of a Bishop</i>, <i>Joan -and Peter</i>, why, Max has ceased to be the parodist of Wells, Wells has -become the parodist of Max.”</p> - -<p>As an actual “Wordsmith” Stone enjoyed a reputation something similar to -that of Theodore Watts. One felt that he had only to publish what he had -written, and he would receive world-wide recognition. In the notebook -that never left him, he was supposed to carry the key that should unlock -his heart. There lay two completed poems, and a tenth of a novel. But -they were quite illegible. None of us ever saw them. Occasionally when -the influence of Rhine wine had somewhat weakened the phenomenal barrier -that separated Stone’s mentality from the real world of his metaphysics, -he would promise to inscribe them for us in the morning in the full -indelibility of purple pencil. Once he even went so far as to recite one -of them; but the words came to us droningly sweet through a mist of -inaudibility, and there remains only the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_186" id="page_186"></a>{186}</span> recollection of certain -sounding words, a low murmur as of a distant waterfall. In the morning -all the promises were forgotten, and sometimes I have been tempted to -wonder whether those poems had any real existence in the sphere of -phenomena. Stone was so at the mercy of his metaphysics, he indulged in -expeditions into a world whither I had neither the wish nor the ability -to follow him, and perhaps he merely imagined those two poems as some -manifestation of that inexplicable “Thing-in-itself” over which he was -so concerned. Perhaps they had no counterpart in that draggled notebook; -and though it is quite possible that some day we shall see those poems -immortally enshrined in vellum, personally I rather doubt it.</p> - -<p>Those hours in the Alcove contain all I personally would wish to -remember of my captivity. It was a delightful room, with its white -tables and windows opening on the fowl-run; it was a perfect place in -which to write. The click of billiard balls, and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_187" id="page_187"></a>{187}</span> murmurous rise and -fall of inaudible conversations provided the ideal setting for thought. -Personally I can never write in a room that is quite silent; its -isolation frightens me, and through an open window I listen in vain for -the indistinct noises of humanity.</p> - -<p>And then towards evening, when the labours of the day were ended, we -would sit together round a bottle of a villainous brand of -<i>Laubenheimer</i> and discuss the merits of Tchecov and de Maupassant. Long -contests were waged there on the vexed problems of æsthetics; the limits -of dramatic art, <i>vers libre</i>, the function of criticism. All these in -their turn passed through the sieve of dialectic. At times even -captivity seemed a pleasant business, so full of leisure was it, after -the bustle of the months that had preceded it. And no doubt years hence, -when the rough outlines have become gently blurred against a harmonious -background, we shall cast a glamour over those lazy days, and see in -them a realisation of Bohemian<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_188" id="page_188"></a>{188}</span> dreams, of a Paris café and Verlaine -leaning over a white table-cloth declaiming his lovely valedictory -lines. And perhaps Time, that great alchemist, may even go so far as to -transmute that foul white wine into the purest absinthe. We shall think -of Dowson and the Cheshire Cheese, of the Rhymers’ Club and the -delightful artifice of the nineties, and we shall claim companionship -with those brave innovators to whom a finished work of art was a -sufficient recompense for their weariness. But within it was not really -like that; and as Pater has said, no doubt that ideal period of artistic -endeavour has never had any existence outside the imagination of the -dreamer, sick with a sort of far-away nostalgia, a vague longing for -wider prospects and less narrowing horizons. Every generation has flung -its eyes backwards over the past, and thought “if it had only been then -that we had lived—then, when the values of life were still clear and -simple,” and round certain names and ages there has been woven in -con<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_189" id="page_189"></a>{189}</span>sequence the thin gossamer of Romance, and the artist has found -comfort in his conception of a world that has been passed by. From these -backward glances and averted faces has emerged much that will never -pass—Thais and Salambo, Henry Esmond and Marius the Epicurean.</p> - -<p>During the last three years I have often wished that I had been born -thirty years earlier, at a time when the influence of French literature -was making itself so keenly felt, and when Verlaine was the light about -the young men’s feet. It is a glamorous world that we catch glimpses of -through the opening doors of Mr. George Moore’s confessions. But I -suppose that really it would not have been so very wonderful after all, -and that those delicate creatures whose feet moved through Symons’s -verse to a continual rustle of silk and cambric, were probably the most -tawdry of <i>grisettes</i>, and those Paris cafés and the many-coloured -glasses of liqueur, they were very much like the Alcove, I expect; and -the Alcove is a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_190" id="page_190"></a>{190}</span> place where no one would wish to sojourn indefinitely.</p> - -<p>But we shall always look back at it with some affection. We spent there -many happy hours, and there the weariness of captivity was relieved by -the human comradeship that alone makes life endurable. We shall not -easily forget how, when the billiard-room was closed for the night, we -used to step out into the square, just as the sunset was flooding it -with an amber haze, and walk beneath the chestnuts, prolonging the -conversations of the afternoon, until the cracked bell and waking lights -drove us back to the barracks. I shall never forget those evenings. -Probably never before was the citadel—that home of militarism—the -scene of so much artistic discussion; and it may be that in after days -our ghosts will linger round those memorial places, and that on some -quiet evening two tenuous and ungainly forms will be seen swinging down -the avenue beneath the chestnuts—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Dans le vieux parc solitaire et glacée,”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_191" id="page_191"></a>{191}</span></p> - -<p class="nind">and the sentries of some Jäger regiment will catch the sound of thin -voices floating across the night. They will be still arguing over the -same old questions, those two foolish ghosts, those questions whose -solution the rest of the world has long since decided to ignore.</p> - -<p>“But look here now, honestly, surely Brooke is not too bad; listen to -this ...” and the faint words of “Mamua” would be borne over last year’s -leaves.</p> - -<p>But the elder ghost would shake his head; and a thin reedy voice would -pipe—</p> - -<p>“No, it won’t do, old man, won’t do, only a whispering gallery.” And -they would pass on, still arguing, still differing, and still, -apparently, very good friends.</p> - -<p>And the two German sentries would look at one another sympathetically.</p> - -<p>“Kriegs-gefangeners, Fritz,” one would say, “captured in the great war. -There were a lot of ’em here, and those two, you’ll always see them -walkin’ up and down there talking the most awful rot, all about poetry<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_192" id="page_192"></a>{192}</span> -and things. Poor fellows! probably a little wrong in the head, they -were, a bit maddish you know; they look a bit that way.”</p> - -<p>And it is not for me to deny it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_193" id="page_193"></a>{193}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII<br /><br /> -<small>HOW WE AMUSED OURSELVES</small></h2> - -<h3>§ 1</h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">In</span> only one province did Colonel Westcott, our genial factotum, place a -voluntary check upon his own activities. His sphere, he decided, was -confined within the elastic boundaries of education, moral conduct and -Pan-Saxon philosophy. And he accepted these limitations with the quiet -resignation of one who owns three-quarters of the globe, and deems the -remainder to be a land of frost and snow. In other hands he laid the -responsibilities of the sports and entertainments committees. And for -this reason, perhaps, they were the two most productive bodies.</p> - -<p>For the average <i>Gefangener</i>, however, games were hard to get. Germany -is not athletic in the sense that we are. Militarism has<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_194" id="page_194"></a>{194}</span> made muscular -development the supreme good of all outdoor exercises, and in -consequence the authorities thought they had sufficiently catered for -our physical propensities by the erection of a horizontal bar, and the -largess of some iron weights. Well, that is hardly our idea of sport; -and as a nation I do not think we shall ever show much enthusiasm for -Swedish drill, P.T., trapezes, and the various devices of a gymnasium, -that leave so little room for individuality. The allegiance to a green -field and a leather ball, small or big as the season demands, will not -be shaken. And at Mainz there were neither green fields nor leather -balls.</p> - -<p>The gravel square was the only open space we had, and it was uncommonly -hard to fall on. There was one football in the camp, belonging to an -orderly, that was from time to time the centre of an exhilarating -display. But it was a dangerous pastime; every game resulted in at least -three injuries, and a scraped elbow was no joke in a country</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_194fp_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img src="images/i_194fp_sml.jpg" width="377" height="216" alt="Image unavailable: OUR PRISON SQUARE. - -[To face page 194. - -" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">OUR PRISON SQUARE. - -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 20%;">[To face page 194.</span> - -</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_195" id="page_195"></a>{195}</span></p> - -<p class="nind">devoid of medicine. Only the very daring played, and soon most of them -were “crocked.”</p> - -<p>For a month hockey enjoyed an ephemeral popularity, and a league was -arranged, in which nearly every room entered a side. While they lasted -those games were great fun, and they were capital exercise. But before -very long all the sticks had been smashed, and all efforts to replace -them were unavailing, and though a few individuals who had had sticks -sent out from England were able to get an occasional game, for the great -mass of us hockey ceased almost as soon as it had begun.</p> - -<p>The only other game was tennis. As there is no rubber in Germany, this -had to be delayed till the late summer, by which time balls and racquets -had arrived from England. But what is one court among six hundred? Only -a very limited section of the camp could play, and those whose abilities -were slight did not feel themselves justified in engaging the court to -the exclusion of their more able brethren. And the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_196" id="page_196"></a>{196}</span> whole business -really amounted to this: that although a newcomer to the camp would see -the square at nearly all moments of the day occupied by some game or -other, for the average <i>Gefangener</i> the athletic world did not exist. -His sole form of exercise was the grey constitutional round the square; -and just before the closing of the gates at night, it was as if a living -tube was being moved round within the wire. Five hundred odd officers -were walking in couples round a square, with a circumference of four -hundred yards; words cannot give an impression which can only be caught -in terms of paint. For the populace billiards was the one athletic -outlet.</p> - -<p>And as the two chief resources of the average subaltern are athletics -and the theatre, this suppression of one channel, diverted to the stage -the entire enthusiasm of the camp. Of course each of us thinks his own -little part of the world the best: our school, our company, our -battalion, they seem to each individual one of us perfect</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_196fp_lg.png"> -<img src="images/i_196fp_sml.png" width="284" height="307" alt="Image unavailable: “FIVE HUNDRED ODD OFFICERS WALKING ROUND THE SQUARE.” - -[To face page 196. - -" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">“FIVE HUNDRED ODD OFFICERS WALKING ROUND THE SQUARE.” -<br /> - -<span style="margin-left: 20%;">[To face page 196.</span> - -</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_197" id="page_197"></a>{197}</span></p> - -<p class="nind">and unique. It is only natural that we should think the P.O.W. Theatre, -Mainz, the absolute Alhambra of the <i>Gefangenenlagers</i>. However bad our -shows had been we should have thought them supreme. But really, -considering that every costume had to be improvised, every piece of -scenery painted on flimsy paper, and that female attire was -unpurchasable, I do not think that its shows could have been better -staged. Certainly the scenic effects towards the end of our captivity -were better than anything one would have seen at a provincial pantomime, -though that is in itself hardly a recommendation.</p> - -<p>Programmes began modestly enough in the days of soup and sauerkraut. We -were hungry then and had little spare vitality. But a concert party was -formed that called itself the “Pows,” and which gave performances every -Saturday. There were many difficulties, the chief one being an entire -lack of revue music. In order to get a song the aid of many had to be -invoked. A<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_198" id="page_198"></a>{198}</span> committee of six would sit round a table trying to remember -the words of “We’ve got a little Cottage” or “When Paderewski plays.” -Each person remembered a stray line or phrase, and gradually like a -jigsaw puzzle the fabric was completed. And then the music had to be -written, and luckily the “Pows” possessed in Aubrey Dowdon a musical -director who could write music as fast as he could write a letter. He -scored the parts, and the musician strummed them out. The result was a -most amusing vaudeville performance. There were some excellent voices, -romantic and humorous; Aubrey Dowdon was himself no mean vocalist, and -there was Milton Hayes.</p> - -<p>Indeed it is hard not to make the account of those early performances a -mere chronicle of Milton Hayes. He was the supreme humorist. All he had -to do was to stand on the stage and smile, and the audience was happy. -It was a wonderful smile, that unconscious innocent affair that only -childhood is supposed to know. And to watch<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_199" id="page_199"></a>{199}</span> Hayes perform was like -watching a child play with bricks. It was as if he were making his jokes -simply for his own pleasure, building up his toy palace of fun, and then -turning to his audience to ask them how they liked it. A small stage and -a small room give scope for a far deeper intimacy than is possible in -the large proscenium of a London hall, where the artist can see before -him only a dull blur of faces through the dusk. At Mainz Milton Hayes -could see and, as it were, speak to each individual present, and before -he had been on the stage five minutes one felt as if he were an old -friend that one had known all one’s life. He caught the true spirit of -intimacy, the kindredship with his audience, that is the whole secret of -the music-hall profession.</p> - -<p> </p> - -<p>During the first two months the programme did not change much. There -would be always some slight variety in a new stunt by Hayes, a new tune -by Dowdon, or a topical sketch. But the old numbers con<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_200" id="page_200"></a>{200}</span>tinually cropped -up. “The Money Moon” and “When you’re a long way from Home”—these never -left us. Still, they received a hearty welcome. The audience in an -<i>Offiziergefangenenlager</i> is not too captious. It goes not to criticise -but to be amused. And so for the first two months the “Pows” continued -to entertain us every Saturday. After a while the stress of private -composition caused Milton Hayes to drop out more or less, but the -company went on with an undiminished vigour. And then suddenly a rumour -went round the camp that a rival company was being formed, and that in a -fortnight’s time the “Shivers” would start their continental tour.</p> - -<p>The general good being the one standard by which to judge any collective -innovation, the enterprise of the “Shivers” must be considered the -greatest benefit the camp received. Competition roused the ambition of -the “Pows.” Each party swore to outdo the other. There ensued a race of -progressive excellence. Each performance was produced<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_201" id="page_201"></a>{201}</span> with a more -lavish outlay of the public funds; each time the curtain rose a deeper -gasp paid homage to scenic artists; and the composers ceased to rely for -their material on the work of other men. They began to write their own -songs and their own music; the old ragtime and coon melodies -disappeared, and instead we had original airs and topical numbers. And -here the “Pows” had a great advantage, for their musical director, who -in these pages shelters himself beneath the pseudonym of Aubrey Dowdon, -had a gift for libretto that we soon expect to see on the playbills of -the Alhambra, and his company finally beat all records with a musical -operetta entitled <i>The Girl on the Stairs</i>. All the songs were original, -and it was marvellously staged. There were eastern grottos, and the -gleam of white shoulders through the dusk. There was a long serenade to -the Jehlum River girl, in which brown tanned slaves prostrated -themselves before the half-naked form of a sylph arrayed in veils. There -were humour<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_202" id="page_202"></a>{202}</span> and naughtiness, horseplay and burlesque. It was a triumph -of impromptu and ingenuity, after which the activities of the “Shivers” -fell woefully flat.</p> - -<p>From the psychological standpoint the professional jealousy of those -weeks of hectic rivalry provided food for much deliberation. The rivalry -once definitely acknowledged, the camp did its best to foment -contention. The manager of the “Shivers” would be told that, unless he -was careful, he would be absolutely washed out by the “Pows,” and the -same story was carried to Dowdon. There were few things more amusing -than to sit behind either party during a rival performance. They would -simulate great enthusiasm, but all the time they would be exchanging shy -and nervous glances. There would be whispers of—</p> - -<p>“Do you think it’s good?”</p> - -<p>“Rather cheap that, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“What a chestnut!”</p> - -<p>And if the piece did make a hit, what colossal “wind-up,” what profound -trepidation!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_203" id="page_203"></a>{203}</span> And with what eager haste was the next show rehearsed. -From the point of view of the public, this was entirely excellent. We -got excellent shows, for there is no goad like jealousy.</p> - -<p>But competition is a dangerous tool, and I often used to wonder where -all this frenzy would end, and to what point it was leading. It had got -beyond the well-defined limits of a good-humoured race. If it had been a -case of nations, it is quite plain what the result would have been. -Competition would have become contention, jealousy would have bred -hatred, and there would have been a war, of which the real issue would -have been, shall we say, the prop-box. But of course the companies -themselves would not have fought; they had started the war, that would -have been enough for them. And the ordinary <i>Gefangener</i>, who had quite -unconsciously fanned this flame, by scratching at the sore place and -aggravating the little itch, would find himself enrolled under one -standard or the other, and involved<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_204" id="page_204"></a>{204}</span> in a war of which he was the -unwitting cause.</p> - -<p>And he would be told—well, what would he be told? That he was fighting -for a prop-box? That would never do. There might come a time when he -would not consider a prop-box worth the surrender of his liberty. No, -the manager would have to find some striking and impersonal cause, “not -for passion, or for power.” A theme must be found fitting for high -oratory, a framework constructed that would bear the weight of many -sounding phrases. Let the poor <i>Gefangener</i> believe that he is fighting -for the freedom of the English stage; let the old catchwords rip, “Art -against Vulgarity,” “The Drama against the Vaudeville,” “Shakespeare -against A Little Bit of Fluff.” And then....</p> - -<p>But fortunately we were not nations armed with a pulpit and a Press, we -were simply prisoners of war, and this competition produced some very -delightful entertainment. But all the same, I still wonder<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_205" id="page_205"></a>{205}</span> where things -would have ended, if we had stayed there much longer. We were riding for -a smash. We had exhausted our limited resources; for one man cannot -compose, stage and produce a new musical comedy every fortnight, and the -rivalry of the two parties had developed at such an alarming pace that -we were faced with the prospect of a return to “The Money Moon,” when -Milton Hayes returned to the stage, and, in his own phrase, “let loose -the light that set the vault of heaven on fire.”</p> - -<h3>§ 2</h3> - -<p>For some weeks Milton Hayes had been living the retired life of an -author, architect or other student. For he had found the effort of -repeated performances in an unnatural atmosphere a very real strain on -his nerves.</p> - -<p>“No Sanatogen,” he said, “that’s what does it. I can’t act without -Sanatogen. I used to try champagne once, but it left me like a rag -afterwards. Sanatogen’s the stuff.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_206" id="page_206"></a>{206}</span></p> - -<p>As a traveller in this commodity he would have made quite a hit. He -never wearied of singing its praises, and we used to ask him why he did -not forward to the firm one of those credentials that begin, “Since -using your admirable tonic....”</p> - -<p>“Why don’t you try it, Milton?” we used to say. “It would be a jolly -good advertisement. ‘Milton Hayes, the author of the <i>Green Eye</i>, -says....’ You’d have your name placarded all over the kingdom.”</p> - -<p>But he would none of it.</p> - -<p>“No,” he said, “that’s far too obvious. Any beginner tries that stunt, -or men that are ‘has beens.’ I might invent a mixture. But no, not the -other thing. It’s not the sort of publicity one wants.”</p> - -<p>But whatever commercial advantage Sanatogen may have lacked as an -advertising agent, its absence in Hayes’s life certainly affected his -nerves. It is a compound that he found palatable only in milk, and even -condensed milk was a rare commodity. The result was that Milton Hayes -joined the band<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_207" id="page_207"></a>{207}</span> of Wordsmiths in the Alcove, and spent his time working -on his lyrics and on a musical comedy.</p> - -<p>This programme satisfied him well enough for a couple of months. In -France he had spent much of his time organising concert parties, and in -his heart of hearts he was not sorry to be quit for a time of grease -paints and the greenroom. But it could not last; and within a short time -he was longing for fresh worlds to conquer. And, at the suggestion of a -friend, he altered and abbreviated his musical comedy into a farcical -libretto calculated to run for about a hundred minutes. This composition -he laid in all good faith before the Entertainments Committee, -suggesting that he should choose his cast from the pick of the “Pows” -and the “Shivers,” and should himself produce the show. It was a simple -proposal; but he had not calculated upon the extent to which -professional rivalry had imprisoned the dramatic activities of the camp.</p> - -<p>While all the world slept momentous things<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_208" id="page_208"></a>{208}</span> had happened. A scheme of -regulations had been drawn up for the guidance of the managing -directors, which in a way resembled the qualifications of League -Football. To prevent poaching it had been decided that, once a performer -had figured on the playbills of one company, he could not transfer his -allegiance elsewhere. No assistance was to be given by one party to -another; only the piano, the orchestra and the prop-box were common -property. There was a sort of trade boycott afoot in which only neutral -waters were free from tariff.</p> - -<p>And then into this world of regulated commerce Milton Hayes entered like -the bold bad buccaneer of Romance, demanding free ports and free -transport, the very pirate of legality.</p> - -<p>Well, what the committee’s opinion on this subject was, we can only -conjecture. What it did is a matter of common knowledge. It absolutely -refused to lend its support: why, we can but guess. Perhaps they were a -little piqued at the infrequency of Hayes’s appearance on the -vaudeville<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_209" id="page_209"></a>{209}</span> stage; perhaps they had advanced so far into the land of -tabulated orders that they could see no safe withdrawal. Perhaps.... But -it is unfair to impute motives to any one. One can merely state facts, -and register one’s personal opinion that collectively humanity is rather -stupid, and that if committees are allowed a free hand, they usually do -manage to mess things up somehow; and that the conclusions at which they -arrive do not at all represent the opinions of those individuals framing -them.</p> - -<p>I remember that some four and a half years ago I received a sufficiently -severe beating from the School’s Games Committee, on the ground that I -had played roughly in a house match; and that within a week six of the -seven members of that committee had apologised to me in person for their -assault. This, as a testimonial to my moral worth, was no doubt -comforting; but as an alleviation for the pain of those fourteen -strokes, it was an inadequate recompense. And the treatment of Milton -was not very different.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_210" id="page_210"></a>{210}</span></p> - -<p>The committee, which consisted of ten officers, refused him their -support; but each individual member of the community considered it a -grave injustice, and one and all they came up to Hayes with apologies to -the tune of—</p> - -<p>“Awfully sorry, old man, about this show of yours. I wish we could have -helped you. I’d love to myself, only the committee won’t let me. Beastly -nuisance I call it, a man isn’t his own master any longer. Awfully -sorry, old man.”</p> - -<p>By the time the tenth member had expressed a similar regret, Milton -Hayes began to wonder whether the committee was a blind force, with a -will independent of its component parts. He was naturally gratified to -receive so many sympathetic condolences, but they did not materially -assist him in his task of finding a company to produce his libretto. -However, he beat the by-ways and hedges, and finally amassed a -nondescript community, which for want of a better name he called the -“Buckshees.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_211" id="page_211"></a>{211}</span></p> - -<p>The company numbered thirty-two, and was supported by voluntary -contribution. The “Pows” and the “Shivers” had drawn within their folds -the pick of the vocalists and humorists; two dramatic societies had -gleaned after them. The remaining stubble was a sorry sight, and as an -insignificant member of that distinguished caste, I must confess that I -viewed the first mustering of the “Buckshees” with an eye of profound -misgiving. All of them were strangers to one another; and though it is -easy to talk of flowers “that blow unseen,” in a community such as a -prison camp one is usually aware pretty early of those whom the Fates -have endowed with talents. There had been little selection. Affairs had -taken a course something like this. Hayes had been walking across the -square when he had been accosted by a total stranger.</p> - -<p>“I say, Hayes,” he would say, “you are getting up a show or something, -aren’t you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; like a part in it?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_212" id="page_212"></a>{212}</span></p> - -<p>“Well, that’s what I really came up for.”</p> - -<p>“Done any acting?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, not much, you know, a few charades.”</p> - -<p>“Well, what do you fancy?”</p> - -<p>“Low comedy.”</p> - -<p>“Right, then I’ll put you down for the drunken slaveboy. First rehearsal -to-morrow at ten in the lecture hall; thanks so much. Cheerioh.”</p> - -<p>And so the “Buckshees” were formed.</p> - -<p>But the difficulties did not lie merely in the calibre of the artists. -There was the staging, the scenery, the music. Hayes had written the -songs, but who was to score the melodies? The versatile Dowdon had -promised to overrule the committee and orchestrate the parts, but what -of the piano? For the only two musicians had been collared by the “Pows” -and the “Shivers.” There were, of course, numerous strummers, but there -was no composer. And it was amusing to watch the way Hayes set to work.</p> - -<p>First of all he would write the lyric, and beat out a rhythm. He would -then go and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_213" id="page_213"></a>{213}</span> recite his composition to one Radcliffe, who could play the -piano, but could not score a part; Radcliffe would get the drift of -Hayes’s idea, and would in the course of hours compose a harmony of -sorts, which he would play to his friend Gladstone, who could score a -part but could not play a piano. Gladstone would jot down the notes; and -behold a finished song, the result of a sort of Progressive Whist.</p> - -<p>The troubles of staging were less difficult. The experts had, it is -true, been already commandeered by the other societies. But a -serviceable quartet of carpenters was discovered, and some decorative -artists procured. All these arrangements Hayes left in charge of others. -He knew the art of delegating responsibility, and he certainly had his -hands full with his cast. For he relied for his success on vitality, -innovations, and the quality which he always dubbed as “punch.” He did -not ask for elaborate scenery. He knew he could not expect to equal -effect of <i>The Girl on the Stairs</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_214" id="page_214"></a>{214}</span> He simply demanded an adequate -setting. He would do the rest.</p> - -<h3>§ 3</h3> - -<p>With a company endowed with mediocre ability Hayes did wonders. He -decided to have a beauty chorus, and with curses and entreaties he beat -sixteen ungainly males into a semblance of the charm and delicacy of an -Empire revue. It suffered a great deal, that chorus; it was cursed, and -excommunicated. It was made a target for all the unmentionable swears. -If it had been composed of girls, it would have spent half its time in -tears. But eventually it emerged, in all its nudity, a machine. There -was a big joyboard, running well into the auditorium; and on this it -affected all the airs and graces of the courtesan. It cajoled and -pleaded; it undulated with emotion. It swayed to each breath of melody, -and it was not too unpleasant a sight, for Hayes had wisely transported -it to an Eastern</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_214fp_lg.png"> -<img src="images/i_214fp_sml.png" width="166" height="362" alt="Image unavailable: OUR LEADING LADY. - -[To face page 214. - -" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">OUR LEADING LADY. - -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 20%;">[To face page 214.</span> - -</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_215" id="page_215"></a>{215}</span></p> - -<p class="nind">island, to a harem, and the kindly veils of Ethiopian modesty. Through a -mist of white calico it was impossible to discern the razored roughness -of a cheek, and the unrazored blackness of an upper lip. The chorus was -a triumph.</p> - -<p>And the same tribute must be accorded to the leading ladies. Nature had -provided them with pleasing features. Under Hayes’s tuition they learnt -the art of the glad eye and the droop of the lower lip. To see those -beauties was to be back again in the gay world of colour and revue. A -breath of femininity quivered about the rough-cast masculinity of Mainz. -So much so, indeed, that on the night of the first performance a -distinguished field officer, who had drunk deeply not only of romance, -was observed chasing round the corridor behind the flying feet of an -inclement Venus, and murmuring between his gasps, “Don’t call me Major, -call me Jim”; and even the most hardened misogynists were not -unconscious of a thrill when “Leola,” the daughter of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_216" id="page_216"></a>{216}</span> Hesperides, -tripped down the joyboard, and sang with outspread, enticing arms, that -beckoned to the audience—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Come to Sonalia with me.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>The plot of the play was extravagantly simple. The curtain went up, -revealing a harassed author searching among his papers for a hidden -plot. The show was billed to start at two o’clock, but the play was -lost, what should he do? And then the machinery of Romance began. An -Arabic inscription gave the key. “Why should they not wish for the -plot?” Faith would remove mountains, and Faith caused to emerge from the -back of the stage a green-faced being, who called himself “The King of -Wishland.”</p> - -<p>From then onwards it was plain sailing: the barrier between the -phenomenal and the real was torn aside, and we were in the world of -fancy. And it was no surprise when this obliging monarch produced a -strange device which he called a “thoughtoscope,” through which could be -observed<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_217" id="page_217"></a>{217}</span> the hurried arrival from New York of the Financier who was to -find a plot. Through this mendacious lens we saw him cross from Halifax -to London. He was in an aeroplane, he was over Holland, he was coming -down the Rhine, he had landed in Mainz, and look, amid gigantic -enthusiasm the gates of the theatre were flung open and Milton Hayes, -disguised as Silas P. Hawkshaw, was observed charging across the square, -waving a stick and a suitcase.</p> - -<p>What followed was sheer joy. The company rose to the occasion. With -perfect equanimity we received the news that, in order to find the plot, -we should have to be transported to Wishland. In Silas P. Hawkshaw we -placed a blind unquestioning trust, and before we knew where we were, -the curtain was down, and the chorus was regaling the audience, while -the scene-shifters did their noble work.</p> - -<p>When next the curtain rose it revealed a tropical island splashed in -sunshine. Through a vista of palms gleamed the azure stretches<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_218" id="page_218"></a>{218}</span> of some -ultimate shoreless sea. But no one would have willingly set sail. The -island was too full of charm. There were singing girls and dancing -girls, a sultan’s harem, and an American bar, and the story lost itself -in a riot of intrigue. The plot abandoned all coherence. It was a fairy -dream, in which a magic ring changed hands innumerable times, involving -disastrous loves and deserted widows.</p> - -<p>And through all this medley of incidents Hayes wandered, first in one -garb, then in another. As a Scotsman he swallowed whisky, as a Welshman -took two wives, as a padre wandered into a harem, and as “Leda was the -mother of Helen of Troy, and all this was to him but as the sound of -lyres and flutes.” It was for him a great triumph, and perhaps the most -supreme moment was, when he proffered marriage to a much-married widow, -and suggested that they should spend their holiday in a bungalow, in a -duet of which the first verse is too good to be forgotten—</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_218fp_lg.png"> -<img src="images/i_218fp_sml.png" width="152" height="388" alt="Image unavailable: LIEUT. MILTON HAYES, M.C. AS SILAS P. HAWKSHAW. - -[To face page 218." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">LIEUT. MILTON HAYES, M.C. AS SILAS P. HAWKSHAW. -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 20%;">[To face page 218.</span></span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_219" id="page_219"></a>{219}</span></p> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary="" -style="font-size:85%;"> - -<tr><td valign="top">“<i>He.</i> </td><td valign="bottom">How’d you like a Bungalow for two, dear?</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> <i>She.</i></td><td valign="bottom"> How’d you like to furnish it complete?</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" rowspan="2"> <i>He.</i> </td><td valign="bottom"> It would be a cosy nest, dear.</td></tr> -<tr><td> Like the grey home in the west, dear.</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> <i>She.</i></td><td valign="bottom"> And on Sunday I should let you cook the meat,</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> <i>He.</i> </td><td valign="bottom"> We’d have a little bedroom made for two, dear,</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> <i>She.</i></td><td valign="bottom"> A little bed, a little chair or so;</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" rowspan="2"> <i>He.</i> </td><td valign="bottom"> And in a month or two, it maybe,</td></tr> -<tr><td> We should have a little baby</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"> <i>Both.</i></td><td valign="bottom"> Grand piano in our Bungalow.”</td></tr> - -</table> - -<p>There were four more verses, in the main topical, and the play ran its -way through the complete gamut of upheavals, matrimonial and domestic. -It was impossible to tell who was allied to whom. It was a complete and -utter socialism, and even the great Plato himself would have been -satisfied with that community of wives.</p> - -<p>But it had to end; and, to carry the spirit of burlesque to its -conclusion, we finished with a pantomime procession. The chorus came on, -as choruses always do, in couples beating time with their heels. And in -their hands they brandished banners on which<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_220" id="page_220"></a>{220}</span> were inscribed the names -nearest to the northern heart, “Preston,” “Wigan,” “Johnnie Walker,” -“Steve Bloomer.” Then the protagonists appeared, each with an -appropriate tag, the lovers with a curtsey and a bow—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“And so through every kind of weather<br /></span> -<span class="i1">We two will always cling together.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind">The gay lady still naughtily impenitent—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Although I haven’t chanced to find a feller,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">I crave your pity; pity poor Finella.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind">The evil genie of the piece, his brows wrinkled with gloom—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“You see my work I never shirk,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">For I’ve done all the dirty work.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind">And, last of all, Milton Hayes with a wand, a simper and a skirt—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Without my aid where would poor Jack have been?<br /></span> -<span class="i1">So please reward the little fairy queen.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind">And after that was sung once again the opening chorus, and the curtain -was rung down on the most enjoyable show of the P.O.W. Theatre, Mainz, -which by a strange<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_221" id="page_221"></a>{221}</span> and lucky coincidence also happened to be the last. -For within a day or two the armistice was signed, and the companies and -committees were scattered. It remains now for Milton Hayes to give once -more to London audiences the pleasure that he gave to us. But because -sentiment lies so near to the human heart, I think his association with -the “Buckshees” will recall to Milton Hayes more pleasant memories than -those of his other and perhaps more universal successes. At a time when -life was grey and tedious, he provided us with interest, with employment -and amusement. We can only hope that he enjoyed himself as much as we -did.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_222" id="page_222"></a>{222}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII<br /><br /> -<small>ARMISTICE DAYS</small></h2> - -<h3>§ 1</h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">Since</span> my return, so many people have asked me whether prisoners of war -had any idea of the turn affairs were taking during the autumn, that it -would be as well to state here exactly what our sources of information -were. There were only two papers printed in English, the -<i>Anti-Northcliffe Times</i> and the <i>Continental Times</i>. The former I never -saw, and it cannot have had a very large circulation. But the -<i>Continental Times</i>, which appeared three times a week, was to be found -in every room in the camp. It was the most mendacious chronicle. It was -printed at Berlin, and was published solely for British prisoners of -war; a more foolish production can hardly<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_223" id="page_223"></a>{223}</span> be imagined. Its views, -political and military, changed with each day’s tidings, and its chief -object was to impress on British prisoners the relative innocence of -Germany and perfidy of the Entente. But it was so badly done that it can -never have achieved its ends. It was far too violent, and so obviously -partial. Its only interesting features were the reproductions from the -English weeklies of articles by men like Ivor Brown and Bertrand -Russell; once they even paid me the doubtful honour of a quotation, a -tribute considerably enhanced by the appearance of the poem under the -name of Siegfried Sassoon.</p> - -<p>But no one took the <i>Continental Times</i> seriously, and the paper that we -relied on for our news was the <i>Frankfurter Zeitung</i>, the representative -organ of the Rhine towns. There were two issues daily. The morning one -contained the Alliance <i>communiqués</i>, and the evening one the Entente. -Like all other German papers, it was under the strictest censorship of -the military bureaucrats,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_224" id="page_224"></a>{224}</span> but it maintained nevertheless an -extraordinary impartiality. It rarely indulged in heroics, and except -for a little “hot air” on March 22nd it kept its head remarkably well. -It is, of course, the most moderate paper in the country, and the -<i>Berliner Tageblatt</i> is considerably more hectic. But the <i>Frankfurter -Zeitung</i> was, certainly during the period of my captivity, more -restrained than any British daily publication. It can be most fittingly -compared, in tone though not in politics, with our sixpenny weekly -papers whose appeal is to the educated classes.</p> - -<p>From this paper we could get a pretty fair idea of how things were -going; but even without the paper we should have been prepared for the -debacle of November. For we could see what the papers do not show—and -that is the psychology of the people. For so long their hopes had been -buoyed up by the expectations of immediate victories in the field; they -had been told that the March offensive would most surely bring<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_225" id="page_225"></a>{225}</span> them -this peace; and on this belief had rested their entire faith. For this -they had maintained a war that was crippling them. They had endured -sufferings greater than those of either France or England. Their -casualties had been colossal, the civilian population had been starved. -But yet they had hung on, because they had been told that victory would -bring them peace; and then Foch attacked; their expectations were -overthrown; the Entente were still fresh and ready to fight. There was -talk of unlimited resources, and Germany was faced with the prospect of -a long and harassing war that could end only in exhaustion and reverse; -and that the German people were not prepared to endure.</p> - -<p>For there will always come a point at which the individual will refuse -to have his interests sacrificed for a collective abstraction with which -he has not identified himself. Mankind in the mass has neither mind nor -memory, and can be swayed and blinded by a clever politician; it can be -led to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_226" id="page_226"></a>{226}</span> brink of folly without realising what road it follows. -Collectively it is capable of injustice which in an individual it would -never countenance; but sooner or later the collective emotion yields -before the personal demand, and the individual asks himself, “Why am I -doing this? Am I benefiting from it; and if I am not benefiting from it, -who is?” For, of course, by even the most successful war the position of -the individual is not improved. The indemnities and confiscations that -the treaty brings never cover the expenses and privations previously -entailed. And collective honour is perishable stuff. But as long as the -war is successful, the politicians are able to persuade the people that -they are actually gaining something from it. They can say, “We have got -this island and that; here our frontier has been pushed forwards, and in -return for that small concession, look, behold an indemnity.” And -because mankind has neither mind nor memory it is prepared to forget the -millions of pounds<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_227" id="page_227"></a>{227}</span> that had to be spent first, and the quantity of -blood that had to be spilt.</p> - -<p>That is when the war is successful; but when defeat looms near, whatever -the courtly ministers may urge, the individual will contrast in his own -mind the ravages, that another two years of warfare will entail, with -the possible emoluments that may lie at the end of them. He will say to -himself, “It is reasonable to expect that, by fighting for another two -years, we may eventually get better terms than we should get now, if we -signed a peace. But to me personally, is the difference sufficient to -warrant the sufferings of a protracted war?” And the answer, as often as -not, is “No.” That is, as far as one can judge, the sort of argument -that presented itself to the individual German in the weeks following -Foch’s resumption of the attack. And in determining the forces that went -to the framing of that “no,” the most important thing to realise is that -Germany was actually starving.</p> - -<p>That this is so, a certain portion of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_228" id="page_228"></a>{228}</span> Press has, during the last -month, attempted to deny; and it is rumoured that the armies of -occupation have found the German towns well stocked with food. If this -last report is true, I do not profess to be able to explain it; but of -one thing there can be no doubt, while we were prisoners in Mainz the -German people there were not merely hungry, they were starving. It is -true that meat was obtainable in restaurants, but only at a price so -high as to be well beyond the means of even the moderately wealthy. A -dinner, consisting of a plate of soup and a plate of meat and -vegetables, would in places cost as much as twelve to fifteen marks, and -the majority of men and women had to exist entirely on their rations. Of -many of the necessaries of life it was impossible to get enough, -especially in the case of butter and milk and cheese. Of meat there was -very little, and flour could only be bought at an exorbitant price. The -bread ration was small, and eggs were rarely obtainable. Potatoes alone -were plentiful, and two years<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_229" id="page_229"></a>{229}</span> of such a diet had considerably lowered -the nation’s vitality.</p> - -<p>In times of sickness this weakness produced heavy fatalities, especially -among the children. A German father even went to the lengths of offering -an English officer a hundred marks for a shilling packet of chocolate to -give to his son who was sick. And all the children born during the last -two years are miserably weak and puny; some of them even having no nails -on their toes and fingers.</p> - -<p>“You are not a father, so you will not understand,” a German soldier -said to me. “But it is a most terrible thing to watch, as I have watched -during the last four years, a little boy growing weaker and paler month -after month; and I can tell you that when I look at my little boy, all -that I want is that this war should end, I do not care how.”</p> - -<p>And it is only natural that the individual parent should feel like this, -and I do not think that in England we quite realise all that Germany has -suffered. I remember<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_230" id="page_230"></a>{230}</span> one morning after the signing of the armistice -that some small boys of about seven years old climbed up the outside of -the citadel, and asked us for some food. We gave them a few biscuits; -they were very hard and dry, but I have never seen such excitement and -joy on a child’s face before. It was a most pathetic sight. A child of -that age cannot feign an emotion, and those children were absolutely -starving.</p> - -<p>And the knowledge that this was so must have had a very saddening effect -on the German soldier at the front. For one of the very few consolations -that were granted to a British soldier in the line was the certainty -that his wife and family were well and safe. But the German soldier must -have been faced continually with the thought that, whatever sufferings -he might himself endure, he could not protect those he loved from the -hunger that was crushing them, and for him those long cold nights and -lonely watches must have been unrelieved by any gleam of hope.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_231" id="page_231"></a>{231}</span></p> - -<p>It is not natural that any nation should bear such hardships for an -instant longer than they appeared absolutely needful, and when it became -quite clear that the Entente had not only survived the March offensive, -but had emerged from it with undiminished powers, the Germans began to -agitate for an instant peace. At the beginning they were not aware of -their weakness in the field, and when the first armistice note was sent -the terms expected were very light.</p> - -<p>“We shall probably have to evacuate France and Belgium,” they said, “and -perhaps Italy and Palestine. That’s all the guarantee that will be -required.”</p> - -<p>And at this point, as far as we could gather, there was very little -animosity against the Kaiser.</p> - -<p>“Of course,” they said, “this sort of thing must not happen again. We -shall have to tie him down a good deal. Ministers will have to be -responsible to the Reichstag and not to him. That should ensure us.”</p> - -<p>There was hardly any talk of a republic.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_232" id="page_232"></a>{232}</span></p> - -<p>But when the Austrian and Bulgarian armies crumpled up, and Foch began -to threaten invasion from every side, it was as if a sort of panic -seized the Germans. They felt that they must have an armistice at any -cost, and were terribly afraid it would not be granted them. They -thought that the French would demand revenge for every indignity and -injustice they had suffered in 1871; and when they realised that the -Entente was not prepared to treat with the Kaiser, they clamoured for -his abdication. It was an ignoble business. Even the <i>Frankfurter -Zeitung</i> joined in the tumult. There was a general terror which gave -birth to the revolution.</p> - -<h3>§ 2</h3> - -<p>The revolutionists arrived at Mainz on Friday, November 8th, and the -first intimation we received of their presence was the arrival on -morning parade of the German adjutant in a civilian suit. He had -apparently spent the previous evening at Köln,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_233" id="page_233"></a>{233}</span> where all officers had -been advised either to leave the town as speedily as possible, or else -change into mufti. This gallant officer did both, and for the first time -since we were captured, we were dismissed without an <i>appel</i>.</p> - -<p>During the whole of that day the camp was possessed of rumours. At any -moment we were told the revolutionaries might present themselves before -the gates; we should be in their hands; our whiskered sentries would -have neither the power nor the inclination to protect us. Thoughts of -Bolshevism worked disquietingly within our minds; we pictured a -sanguinary contest between the military and socialist parties, and we -were a little nervous lest the caprice of the moment should ally us with -one or other of the warring parties. The town was clearly under the -power of the Red Flag. German officers were not allowed in the streets -in uniform, and it was a pleasant sight to see the General robing -himself in a suit of mustard-coloured cloth before<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_234" id="page_234"></a>{234}</span> venturing beyond the -gate. But I must own that personally I was considerably alarmed about my -safety. However deep-rooted may be one’s objections to constitutions and -their rulers, however much one may sympathise with the ἰδέα of -rebellion, one does prefer to view these calamitous upheavals either -from the safety of a hearthrug, or from a distance of two hundred yards.</p> - -<p>And it seemed more than likely that, on the signing of the armistice, we -should have to beat a very hasty retreat which would involve the dumping -of the greater part of our kit; and we had received no information of -what we might take with us. This was very disquieting. During the eight -months of my confinement I had written some two-thirds of a novel, and -had no wish to discover that manuscript was contraband. Tarrant viewed -my troubles with complete composure.</p> - -<p>“My dear Waugh,” he said, “as I’ve told you more than once before, that -novel is quite unprintable, and if it is published,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_235" id="page_235"></a>{235}</span> it will plunge both -you and your publisher into disaster. You’d do much better to leave it -here.”</p> - -<p>But with this I could naturally not agree, and in a state of some -perturbation carried my heart-searchings to the German adjutant. He -received me most affectionately.</p> - -<p>“Ah, Mr. Waugh,” he said, “things are not as serious as all that. It -will be all right. If, of course, you had been exchanged, it would have -been a different thing. But now you can take what you like, and I am -sure that anything you write would be quite harmless.”</p> - -<p>“Quite harmless”.... I thought of all the scholastic fury that had been -split over Gordon Carruthers, I thought of Mr. Dames-Longworth who had -called it “pernicious” stuff, of Canon Lyttelton who had spoken so much -and to such little purpose, and who had given me so royal an -advertisement. And I thought of that long stream of correspondents who -had signed themselves “A mere schoolmaster,” and I thought of what<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_236" id="page_236"></a>{236}</span> they -will say of my new book if it ever sees the light of day; and it seemed -to me that of all the adjectives both of appreciation and abuse that may -be attached to that sorry work, “harmless” is certainly the one it will -never receive again.</p> - -<p>During the remainder of the day rumours bred at an alarming pace. It was -reported that the revolutionaries had taken charge of the camp, and that -although the armistice was still unsigned, they had told us to make our -own arrangements about repatriation. Already negotiations had been -opened with a shipping firm that was to take us down the Rhine to the -Dutch frontier. We had visions of England within a week.</p> - -<p>As to the state of affairs in the town only conjecture was possible; but -from the top windows of Block II, the slate roofs presented the same -somnolent appearance, and it was hard to realise that beneath that -placid landscape Democracy was lighting its flaming torch.</p> - -<p>Most of our information came from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_237" id="page_237"></a>{237}</span> medical orderly. In pre-war days -he had been a waiter at the Carlton, and he had not forgotten how to -swear in English. He was one of the most complete terrorists.</p> - -<p>“Europe is overrun with Bolshevism,” he said. “It is everywhere. You -have it in England. Do you know that you have soldiers’ councils in -England? You have. Did you know that the British Fleet sailed into Kiel -Harbour flying the Red Flag? It did. Soon the whole world will be having -revolutions. There will be no safety, none at all.”</p> - -<p>He was most hectic, and on the day of the armistice his anger exceeded -all bounds.</p> - -<p>“Why do you give us terms like this?” he said. “We have got rid of our -roundheads, our Kaiser, our Ludendorf. Why do you not get rid of yours? -Ah, but Bolshevism will come, and do you know what your soldiers’ -councils have done, they have wired to us not to sign the armistice. But -the wire came too late. Still, it will be all right in time, your -soldiers’ councils will see to that.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_238" id="page_238"></a>{238}</span></p> - -<p>Where the Germans got the idea that there were soldiers’ councils in -England, I do not know. It certainly did not appear in the <i>Frankfurter -Zeitung</i>. But an enormous number of Germans were under the impression -that a corresponding state of affairs existed in England. Probably it -was a point of the revolutionaries’ programme.</p> - -<p> </p> - -<p>By November 11th the revolution, as far as Mainz was concerned, had more -or less adjusted itself; and the people’s attention was so occupied by -the new regime that the news of the armistice was not received with as -much excitement as might have been expected. The terms were a great deal -harder than they had hoped for, but they were so glad the war was over -that this did not greatly trouble them. They had ceased to care for -collective honour. The only man I met who was really conscious of the -defeat was the professor who used to take French and German classes. Of -course, all his life it had been his business to instil imperialistic<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_239" id="page_239"></a>{239}</span> -propaganda into the boys and girls under him, and no doubt he himself -must have considerably absorbed the Pan-German doctrines, and he did -feel acutely the ignominy of his country’s position.</p> - -<p>“What hurts our pride more than anything else,” he said, “is the thought -that we release prisoners instead of exchanging them. It shows us so -clearly that we are beaten.”</p> - -<p>But the people themselves were not at all worried about this. The only -thing that troubled them was the doubt whether they would be able to get -enough to eat after the surrender of so many wagons. The grippe was -raging very fiercely among them, and the need for food was being very -keenly felt. They had also hoped that one of the conditions of the -armistice would have been the removal of the blockade.</p> - -<p>“You have beaten us,” they said. “We cannot fight any more. Why must you -continue the blockade? We have done everything you asked for; the Kaiser -has gone; we have a new Government.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_240" id="page_240"></a>{240}</span></p> - -<p>For they have not yet realised the extent to which the previous deceit -of their military rulers has discredited them in the eyes of Europe. -They do not realise that every political movement they make has come to -be regarded with suspicion.</p> - -<p>With us the revolution produced fewer ludicrous situations than it did -in some other places, and a most amusing story is told about the camp at -Frankfurt. A few days after the signing of the armistice the senior -British officer and his adjutant presented themselves before the German -Commandant, with the request that they might be allowed out in the town -on parole. There they found their late tyrant, sitting down in his -shirt-sleeves, cutting the epaulettes off his tunic. On their arrival, -however, he put on his greatcoat and made an attempt to recover his -dignity.</p> - -<p>“Yes, gentlemen,” he said, with his courtly foreign grace.</p> - -<p>The senior British officer explained his errand. “As we’re no longer -prisoners,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_241" id="page_241"></a>{241}</span> he said, “we may surely go out for walks?”</p> - -<p>The German looked a little awkward.</p> - -<p>“Well,” he said hesitatingly, “the fact is, I really am not the person -to ask. You see, the soldiers’ council are in command. You must go and -ask Herr Bomenheim, he is the representative.”</p> - -<p>And besides being representative of the revolution, Herr Bomenheim was -also the window cleaner; it is a strange world in which a colonel takes -his orders from his batman.</p> - -<p>At Mainz we were less democratic, as our affairs were run by a -sergeant-major. But for all that we had no truck with the old regime, -and the “Soldaten Raht” proved its independence by court-martialling the -Prussian General. For that deed alone the prisoners of Mainz bear to the -revolutionaries a debt of everlasting gratitude. And the escapade that -led to this retribution provides a fitting example of all that is most -aggressive and inhuman in the Berlin military caste.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_242" id="page_242"></a>{242}</span></p> - -<p>At this time there was a very great deal of sickness in Mainz, and the -hospitals were crowded both with civilians and British officers. It was -also a time at which congestion of the railroads had delayed the arrival -of our Red Cross parcels. The British authorities in the camp had in -consequence collected as large a supply of food as possible, to be sent -to the hospital and divided not only among our own invalids, but among -those of the civilian population whose condition was really critical. -This consignment was loaded on a handcart, and surrounded, by sentries, -was to proceed into the town.</p> - -<p>At the gates, however, it was met by the General, who, by the courtesy -of the revolutionaries, was now allowed to wear his uniform. He -immediately stopped the handcart and asked where it was going; on being -informed of its destination he ordered that the food should be returned -at once to the officers who had collected it, as he could in no wise -countenance such a proceeding.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_243" id="page_243"></a>{243}</span> It was pointed out to him that the -condition of several officers in the hospital was most serious, and that -meat stuffs were urgently required. But he would have none of it.</p> - -<p>“My permission was not asked first,” he said, “and I cannot allow it. If -you had come to me, it would have been different. But I cannot have you -behaving as though you were under your own rule.”</p> - -<p>And it is to the credit of the soldiers’ council that they took instant -steps in the matter. The General was informed that he only occupied his -position on tolerance and had no active authority whatsoever. And within -two days he was removed from the camp, and is now, I believe, awaiting -court-martial on a charge of “inhumanity and callousness.”</p> - -<p>And all the while rumours about our release bred at an alarming rate. -The German authorities had told us that it would be impossible for them -to provide us with a train for at least a fortnight, but that if we<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_244" id="page_244"></a>{244}</span> -liked we could make our own arrangements, and charter a steamer that -would take us up the Rhine. These were days of furious conjecture. The -complete technique of a pleasure trip was exhaustively discussed. How -long did it take a steamer to coal? how long to get up steam? And then -of how many knots an hour was it capable? Sums were worked out on the -old methods of, Let <i>x</i> be the rate of the steamer, and <i>y</i> the speed of -the Rhine. We roughly gauged that it would take twenty-seven hours. But -then, of course, the Dutch Government had to be considered. However -delightful we might be as individual companions, we were not at all sure -whether a neutral country would welcome the sudden arrival of 500 -guests. Of course they had received the Kaiser, but that was not quite -the same thing. There was an inconvenient margin of doubt.</p> - -<p>It was a most disquieting time. Each hour was filled with conflicting -rumours, and after a while one ceased to believe in any<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_245" id="page_245"></a>{245}</span> of them. We -assumed that on the arrival of the army of occupation we should be -liberated, and it appeared as if we should have to wait till then.</p> - -<p>On November 17th, however, we were given an official permit to go into -the town, and from then onwards the burden of waiting was light.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_246" id="page_246"></a>{246}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV<br /><br /> -<small>FREEDOM</small></h2> - -<h3>§ 1</h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">After</span> a confinement of eight months it was a wonderful thing to be able -to walk through the streets unguarded. To be free again; no longer to be -fenced round by barbed wire, to be shadowed by innumerable eyes; no -longer to be under the rule of an arrogant Prussian. It was almost -impossible to grasp it; that we were free, free. Every moment I expected -to feel a heavy hand fall on my shoulder, and to hear a gruff voice -bellow in my ear, “Es ist verboten, Herr Lieutenant.”</p> - -<p>And this sense of unreality was increased by our reception outside the -gates. Whether the children had been given a half-holiday in honour of -their recent naval operations,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_247" id="page_247"></a>{247}</span> I do not know, but it did seem as though -the entire infantile population had assembled outside the citadel; and -no sooner did an officer appear than he was surrounded by urchins of -both sexes, up to the age of twelve, all yelling for biscuits and -chocolate. It was an absurd and pitiable sight; and it was terrible to -think that a people had so far lost their self-respect as to allow their -children to beg for food from their enemies. It was often quite hard to -get rid of them; they would hang on to an arm or to the end of a coat, -and simply refuse to let go till actually forced.</p> - -<p>Considering that the nation, of which it formed a part, had just -sustained a defeat practically amounting to unconditional surrender, -Mainz presented a spectacle of strange jubilation. I had expected to -find an atmosphere of a more or less passive resignation, of -disappointment only partially relieved by the cessation of hostilities; -whatever the individual might feel, officialdom surely, we had thought, -would assume a woeful countenance.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_248" id="page_248"></a>{248}</span> But instead of that we found a town -robed as for a carnival. Flags were hung from the windows of every -house, the children in the streets waved penny ensigns, and every few -minutes a lorry full of troops would clatter through, the guns decked -with banners, the men shouting and singing. It was as though a -victorious army were returning home, and after all it was only right -that the men should receive a proper welcome. For over four years they -had waged on many fronts a war that had conferred much honour on their -arms. They had been at all times brave and resolute. They had fought to -the very end. It was not their fault that Germany had been steeped in -ruin.</p> - -<p>The reception we received from the civil population was very friendly. -At first it was only with the most extreme diffidence that we entered -cafés and restaurants, but we soon saw that there was little or no -animosity against us. In the streets civilians were always ready to show -us the way,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_249" id="page_249"></a>{249}</span> and displayed no resentment at our presence amongst them. -In the cafés German soldiers even came up and spoke to us. There was -such general delight at the war being over, that the Germans felt it -impossible to harbour any ill-will against any save those whom they held -directly responsible for their sufferings, and it was typical of their -attitude that, when a German soldier introduced himself, his first -remark was, “I am not a Prussian.”</p> - -<p>The question of the army of occupation was very keenly discussed, and -everywhere was to be found the same opinion, “We do not want the -French.” It seemed as if that hereditary hate was as keen as ever; for -the English and Americans they entertained very neutral emotions. But -the French were too nearly neighbours; and it seems as if only the long -passage of uneventful years could assuage this spirit of vindictiveness, -that has been artificially fostered in the nursery and in the -schoolroom.</p> - -<p>But between us and the Germans, at any<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_250" id="page_250"></a>{250}</span> rate in the Southern States, -there is no reason why this hate should outlive the war. That is, of -course, if the attitude of the people of Mainz can be taken as in any -way representative of the other Rhine towns. For we could not have been -more hospitably received. There are those, of course, who will say, “Ah, -but they were pulling your leg, they were only trying to see what they -could get out of you. You spent money in their cafés, that was what they -wanted; and you gave them chocolate and soup, that’s what they were -after.” I have not the slightest doubt that a great many Germans -attached themselves to us solely for ulterior purposes. But as a whole I -believe that the civilians in Mainz were quite honestly pleased to be -able to do for us anything they could, as a sort of proof that they had -altered their Government, that the war was over, and that they had no -wish to nourish any ill-feeling against us. And those who see behind -this display of friendship the calculated deceit of a political stunt, -are, it seems to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_251" id="page_251"></a>{251}</span> me, merely seeing their own reflections in the -looking-glass of life.</p> - -<p>The Germans themselves were immensely enthusiastic about the revolution; -they saw in it a complete social panacea.</p> - -<p>“Everything will be all right now,” one of them said to me. “We shall -abolish our big standing army, and our big fleet, and so we shall be -able to cut down our taxes. Before the war our lives were being crushed -out of us, so that generals could retire on large pensions. But now -every one will have to work. We shall be really democratic.”</p> - -<p>“And,” he said, “we are not going to have our children overworked in the -schools. We shall cut down the hours. Before, it was so hard to earn a -living in Germany, that children had to work like that or they would -have been left behind. Competition was ruining us. But now....”</p> - -<p>There was there the blind optimism that is born by the glimmering of a -hope however far withdrawn. The only real dread<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_252" id="page_252"></a>{252}</span> they had was that, when -the troops returned, Bolshevism might break out.</p> - -<p>“You see,” he went on, “at the front the troops were well fed. Of course -they had no delicacies, but they had enough; while now they are -returning to a country that is practically starving. They will have to -share with us; we are no longer militarists, and we do not see why they -should have the best of everything. It is possible that there will be -trouble. But whatever we do, we shall not be like Russia. We have more -common sense, we are better educated, we are not religious maniacs, we -shall not be swayed by a few demagogues. We are too sane to go to such -extremities.”</p> - -<p>And it was quite clear that they had no intention of restoring the -Kaiser. Having once decided to choose him as their scapegoat, they had -done the business thoroughly. On him they laid the whole burden of their -adversities.</p> - -<p>“He led us into this, and he kept the truth from us. If we had known -that it<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_253" id="page_253"></a>{253}</span> would come to this, we would have made peace months ago. We -should not have let our children die for want of food.”</p> - -<p>But, as regards actual liberty, the revolution had merely substituted -one tyranny for another, and that a military one. No doubt things will -adjust themselves shortly, and at this time strong discipline was -clearly essential. But the individual had very little freedom. The -patrols of the Red Guard paraded the streets all day with loaded rifles; -at eleven o’clock they entered and cleared the cafés. After that hour -they arrested any one they found in the streets. Moreover, they had -authority to raid private houses whenever they liked, a privilege of -which they frequently availed themselves. Altogether this government of -the people by the people did not seem to me so desirable an Utopia, -though as a revolution it might be a triumph of order and moderation.</p> - -<p>Our week of liberty in Mainz passed quickly and pleasantly. It was a -coloured, leisured life, a continual drifting from one<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_254" id="page_254"></a>{254}</span> café to another; -we played innumerable games of billiards, listened to the music in the -Kaiserhof, sampled all the cinemas, and heard <i>Der Troubadour</i> at the -theatre. Just off the main street was a small restaurant where we took -all our meals. It was in rather an out-of-the-way spot, and as we were -the only officers to discover it, we became during that week a sort of -institution. The proprietor struck up quite a friendship with us, and -whenever we came in, he used to produce from his cupboard a bottle of -tomato sauce. It bore the name of Crosse & Blackwell, and he was very -proud of his possession. To offer us a share in it was the greatest -compliment he could pay.</p> - -<p>Our last night there I shall never forget. We came in rather late for -dinner, and by the time we had finished it was well after ten, but the -proprietor insisted on us staying a little longer. He set us down at the -same table as his friends and produced a vast quantity of wine. They -were hospitable<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_255" id="page_255"></a>{255}</span> folk, and two hours’ companionship over a bottle had -removed all tendencies to reserve.</p> - -<p>Opposite me was a German officer who had spent the greater part of his -life in England; and his flow of words bore irrefutable testimony to the -potency of Rhine wine.</p> - -<p>“I have lived among you all my life,” he said; “I do not wish to fight -against you. I have no quarrel with the English. It is only the French I -hate, the bloody French. I would do anything I could to harm them. They -hate us and we hate them,” and a man generally speaks the truth when he -is drunk.</p> - -<p>The end of the evening was less glorious. It was well after eleven -before we managed to escape after countless <i>Aufwiedersehens</i>, and no -sooner had we got outside the house than we walked straight into a -patrol of the Red Guard, by whom we were arrested, and returned to the -citadel under an armed escort.</p> - -<p>Next morning we were marched down into<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_256" id="page_256"></a>{256}</span> a train for Metz. All the German -officers from the camp and a considerable number of civilians came to -see us off. As I leant out of the window, to catch a last glimpse of the -cathedral, it was hardly possible to realise that the war was over and -that we were going home. It was the day to which we had looked forward -for so long, the day of which we had dreamt so much during the cold and -loneliness of the nights in France. It had been then immeasurably -remote, a flickering uncertain gleam, too far away for any tangible -hope. And the mind had fastened upon those nearer probabilities of -leave,—a blighty, or a course behind the line. And now that day had -really come, I could not grasp its significance. I was almost afraid to -look forward, and my mind went back to the earlier days of our -captivity, to the hunger and the depression, to the intolerable tedium -and irritation. And yet, for all that, a wave of sentimentality -partially obscured the sharpness of those memories. We had had some<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_257" id="page_257"></a>{257}</span> -good times there in the citadel; that grey monochrome had not been -entirely unrelieved. There had been certain moments worth remembering; -and I thought that, when the incidents of the past four years had -settled down into their true perspective, I should be able to look back, -not without a certain kindliness, towards that unnatural life, that -strange world of substitute and sauerkraut.</p> - -<h3>§ 2</h3> - -<p>The journey home was protracted by innumerable delays. We left Mainz on -November 24th, and it was not until the 5th of December that we arrived -in London. We spent five days in Nancy, another three in Boulogne, and -the trains behaved as is their wont on the railroads of France. All this -rather tended to dispel the glamour of the return.</p> - -<p>For one of the chief attractions of leave is its suddenness. One is -sitting on the steps of a dugout musing gloomily on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_258" id="page_258"></a>{258}</span> probable chance -of a relief, when a runner arrives from Battalion with a chit, “You will -proceed on U.K. leave to-night. The train leaves Arras at 8.10 p.m.” And -then the world is suddenly haloed with flame. One rushes down the -dugout, flings hurried orders to the sergeant, collects all that is -least important in one’s kit, scatters an extravagance of largess among -the batmen who have collected it, and then races for H.Q. It is all a -scramble and a rush. The mess cart is chartered, within a couple of -hours one is at the railhead; a night of cramp and discomfort and one is -at Boulogne; there is just time for a bath at the E.F.C. Club, and then -the boat sails. There is a train waiting at the other end, and the whole -business takes only twenty-four hours. It is like a tale from the -<i>Arabian Nights</i>. At one moment one is sitting on a firestep, the next -one is in London. It embodies the very essence of romance.</p> - -<p>But the return of the <i>Gefangener</i> was altogether different. He had -plenty of time<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_259" id="page_259"></a>{259}</span> in which to collect his thoughts, the return to -civilised life was marked by slow gradations. At Metz he could get a -decent bath, at Nancy a decent dinner. By the time he had reached -Boulogne, his odyssey had assumed the most prosaic proportions. There is -no doubt about it, for those who had been prisoners only a few months -the leave boat was infinitely more exciting.</p> - -<p>But there were, of course, compensations. After having lived on tinned -meats for eight months, it was a thrilling experience to find a menu -that comprised fried sole and grouse, Brussel sprouts and iced grapes. -Over my first dinner I took three hours. It was a gluttonous but on the -whole a natural exhibition. It also saved us from a further period of -confinement.</p> - -<p>For when we arrived at Nancy one of the first pieces of intelligence we -received, was the news that it would not be possible to provide a train -for us within five days. To many ardent spirits this was a sad blow, and -one or two adventurers decided that<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_260" id="page_260"></a>{260}</span> whatever the rest might do, they -themselves were not going to wait five days “for any blooming train,” -and among these rebels I had rather naturally numbered myself.</p> - -<p>During the afternoon I went down to the station with Barron, the -constant companion of my peradventures, and interviewed the railway -authorities. Now there is only one way to deal with a military -policeman; it is no good trying to dodge him. He knows that trick too -well. The frontal assault is the one road to success. We walked straight -up to him.</p> - -<p>“Corporal,” I said, “we’re going to Paris.”</p> - -<p>“Very good, Sir; you’ve got your movement order made out, I suppose.”</p> - -<p>“No, Corporal, I’m afraid I haven’t,” I confessed.</p> - -<p>He grunted.</p> - -<p>“That makes it a bit awkward, Sir; you see, I have got orders, Sir, -to....”</p> - -<p>At this juncture a five-franc note changed hands.</p> - -<p>“But, Sir, of course it could be managed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_261" id="page_261"></a>{261}</span> I expect, if you’re down at -ten minutes to eleven. Well, Sir, I’ll see what I can do.”</p> - -<p>That was all right; and feeling ourselves rather dogs, we made our way -back to the Stanislas and had a game of billiards. At half-past six we -sat down to a long, carefully selected dinner and two bottles of -champagne; and as the evening progressed a delightful warmth and languor -came over us. A bed with a spring mattress seemed more than ever -desirable.</p> - -<p>“It won’t be a very comfortable journey,” hazarded my companion. “It -will take a good ten hours.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” I said.</p> - -<p>“It really seems rather a sweat....”</p> - -<p>“Old man,” I said sternly, “I’ve paid that corporal five francs, and on -my mother’s side I’m Scots.”</p> - -<p>And we returned to our attack on the omelette.</p> - -<p>Half an hour passed, and the world of languor grew even fairer. Effort -then appeared almost criminal. Surely the supreme<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_262" id="page_262"></a>{262}</span> delight of life lay -in this slow puffing at a cigarette. The idea of our all-night journey -became increasingly abhorrent.</p> - -<p>“Archie,” I said, “do you think we shall be able to get any sleep in -this train?”</p> - -<p>“We shall be too cold. You know what a French train is?”</p> - -<p>And again there was a silence. By this time we had reached the coffee -stage. In about half an hour we should have to go. There would be a -longish walk back to our billets, then we should have to pack and lug -our bags all the way down to the station. It really didn’t seem worth -while....</p> - -<p>“Look here,” I said, “we shall only gain five days by this, and I’m -jolly sleepy....”</p> - -<p>“And if it’s your Scots blood that is troubling you,” my companion burst -out, “I’ll pay you the damned five francs now, and with interest.”</p> - -<p>That settled it.</p> - -<p>“Garçon,” I called, “l’addition, s’il vous plaît, et cherchez-moi un -fiacre, je suis fort épuisé.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_263" id="page_263"></a>{263}</span></p> - -<p>But the others were either made of sterner stuff, or else they had -wearied of the lures of the Stanislas. At any rate they presented -themselves duly before the military policeman at 10.50, and a quarter of -an hour later they were on their way to Paris, to that city of gay -colours and gayer women; while stretched out peacefully on a delightful -spring mattress, two renegades slept a coward’s sleep.</p> - -<p>Well, the last I heard of those lambent rebels was that on their arrival -at Paris they were instantly arrested by the A.P.M., and when we left -Boulogne they were still sending urgent telegrams over France, begging -for an instant release. Whether this has been since accorded them I do -not know, but when I went down to Victoria a week after my arrival to -meet a friend, I saw, stacked in a neglected corner, a huge pile of the -white wood boxes that were peculiar to the Offiziergefangenenlager, -Mainz. And on those boxes were the names of those bright warriors who -had defied authority.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_264" id="page_264"></a>{264}</span> Their luggage had come on afterwards with us, and -had preceded them by many days. They were very gallant fellows, very -resolute and proud-hearted, but ... I am glad I went to the Stanislas.</p> - -<p>And when we did eventually move from Nancy, it was not in one of the -unspeakable leave trains, but in a hospital train, fitted with every -possible convenience and comfort. As in the haven of the Pre-Raphaelite, -there were “beds for all who come,” and beds, moreover, that were poised -on springs, and that swung gently to the movement of the engine. For -thirty-six hours we slept solidly.</p> - -<p>And at Boulogne we were provided with a hospital boat; indeed, we might -have been the most serious stretcher cases, instead of being rather -untidy, very lazy, and thoroughly war-weary <i>Gefangenen</i>. It was a royal -return.</p> - -<p>Twenty-four hours later, with a warrant for two months’ leave in my -pocket, I was standing on Victoria platform, a free man. I had often -wondered what it would<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_265" id="page_265"></a>{265}</span> feel like. Would it seem very strange to be no -longer under authority, to be able to do what I liked, and to go where I -wanted? I had wondered whether the atmosphere of a prison camp would -still hang over me, and whether I should see in commissionaires and -waiters some dim survival of those whiskered sentries. When I went to a -theatre, should I turn rather nervously to the powdered lackey in the -vestibule, as if half expecting a thundered “es ist verboten”? Would it -take long to drop those habits of subservience?</p> - -<p>But when I was once there, all those misgivings were as a dream. It -seemed that I had never been away at all. With my old-time skill, I -overawed a taxi-driver, and promised to “make it worth his while.” I -drove round to my banker, and cashed an enormous cheque; then to my -tailors to order a civilian suit. And then—Hampstead.</p> - -<p>I lay back against the padded cushion and watched each well-known -landmark fall behind me—Lord’s, Swiss Cottage, the Hamp<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_266" id="page_266"></a>{266}</span>stead cricket -field. Surely I had never been away at all. Those eight months in -Germany, they were merely some old remnant of a fairy tale, <i>ein Märchen -aus alten Zeiten</i>; they had no real existence. I felt as though I were -coming back from Sandhurst for my Christmas leave. There had been no -separation. In the last month I had had one week-end leave and two -Sunday passes. It was just a resumption of the old life, a slipping back -into the ordered harmony of days.</p> - -<p>The taxi drew up outside the door; I knocked on the window with my -stick, and the hall was instantly alive with welcome. But I could not -make it an occasion for heroics. It did not seem in any way a special -event, demanding any exceptional excitement.</p> - -<p>“Father,” I said, “I’ve got no change. You might give that taxi-driver -ten shillings.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_267" id="page_267"></a>{267}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="INDEX" id="INDEX"></a>INDEX</h2> - -<p class="c"><a href="#A">A</a>, -<a href="#B">B</a>, -<a href="#C">C</a>, -<a href="#D">D</a>, -<a href="#E">E</a>, -<a href="#F">F</a>, -<a href="#G">G</a>, -<a href="#H">H</a>, -<a href="#I-i">I</a>, -<a href="#J">J</a>, -<a href="#K">K</a>, -<a href="#L">L</a>, -<a href="#M">M</a>, -<a href="#N">N</a>, -<a href="#O">O</a>, -<a href="#P">P</a>, -<a href="#Q">Q</a>, -<a href="#R">R</a>, -<a href="#S">S</a>, -<a href="#T">T</a>, -<a href="#V-i">V</a>, -<a href="#W">W</a>, -<a href="#Z">Z</a></p> - -<p class="nind"> -“<a name="A" id="A"></a>Alcove,” the, its cosy comforts, <a href="#page_173">173</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">protection of its own interests, <a href="#page_175">175-8</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">a place of happy memories, <a href="#page_186">186-90</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Milton Hayes in retirement in, <a href="#page_207">207</a></span><br /> - -Alhambra, the, the future home of Aubrey Dowdon, <a href="#page_201">201</a><br /> - -Amiens, its luxuries, <a href="#page_150">150</a><br /> - -Amusements in captivity, <a href="#page_193">193</a> <i>et seq.</i><br /> - -<i>Anti-Northcliffe Times</i>, the, <a href="#page_222">222</a><br /> - -Architecture flourishes in the Alcove, <a href="#page_178">178</a><br /> - -Armistice, the, in Mainz, <a href="#page_236">236</a> <i>et seq.</i><br /> - -“Arnold,” Capt., his bibulous escapade at Karlsruhe, <a href="#page_113">113</a><br /> - -Arras to St. Quentin, attack upon, <a href="#page_003">3</a><br /> - -Asceticism, its ethics considered, <a href="#page_053">53</a><br /> - -Aspirin, German doctor’s sole prescription, <a href="#page_128">128</a><br /> - -Authorship, as fostered by the Pitt League, <a href="#page_173">173</a>, <a href="#page_178">178</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="B" id="B"></a>Baden-Hessen, its native moderation, <a href="#page_117">117</a><br /> - -Bapaume, <a href="#page_014">14</a><br /> - -Barclay, Mrs. Florence, lengths resorted to by a prisoner to secure her <i>Rosary</i>, <a href="#page_050">50</a><br /> - -“Barron,” Lieut., his capacity for sleep, <a href="#page_131">131</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his ingenuity as cook, <a href="#page_132">132</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his self-sacrifice in a good cause, <a href="#page_135">135</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his amiable companionship, <a href="#page_141">141</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">a friend to the last, <a href="#page_260">260</a></span><br /> - -Beauty chorus of the “Buckshees,” <a href="#page_214">214</a><br /> - -Beef dripping as an ingredient in chocolate <i>soufflé</i>, <a href="#page_133">133</a><br /> - -Bennett, Mr. Arnold, his praises sung, <a href="#page_184">184</a><br /> - -Berlin, all roads lead to, <a href="#page_016">16</a><br /> - -<i>Berliner Tageblatt, Der</i>, its hectic effusions, <a href="#page_224">224</a><br /> - -Bible, the, sacrilege upon, by a German officer, <a href="#page_125">125</a><br /> - -Billiards as a form of athletics, <a href="#page_196">196</a><br /> - -Bolshevism, the shadow of, <a href="#page_233">233</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">a German waiter on, <a href="#page_237">237</a></span><br /> - -Bomenheim, Herr, formerly window-cleaner, eventually Commandant of Frankfort, <a href="#page_241">241</a><br /> - -“Book of Common Prayer,” its inadequacy as a complete prison-library, <a href="#page_049">49</a><br /> - -Boulogne, prisoners at, <a href="#page_262">262</a><br /> - -Bout-Merveille, generosity of the inhabitants, <a href="#page_034">34</a><br /> - -Bread, arrival of, at Mainz: mouldiness of, <a href="#page_102">102</a><br /> - -Brooke, Rupert, <a href="#page_191">191</a><br /> - -“Buckshees,” the, Milton Hayes’s operatic company at Mainz, <a href="#page_210">210</a><br /> - -Bullecourt, capture of, <a href="#page_004">4</a><br /> - -Bully-beef as an incentive to platitude, <a href="#page_104">104</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">its monotony, <a href="#page_129">129</a></span><br /> - -Bureaucracy, its insidious influence among prisoners, <a href="#page_064">64</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">its inquisitiveness, <a href="#page_065">65</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">its confusion of literature with commerce, <a href="#page_066">66</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">German bureaucracy and food parcels, <a href="#page_109">109</a></span><br /> - -Byron, Lord, Lieut. Stone’s resemblance to, <a href="#page_176">176</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="C" id="C"></a>Cambrai, Headquarter orders concerning, <a href="#page_007">7</a><br /> - -Cannan, Mr. Gilbert, his <i>Stucco House</i> saved from fire, <a href="#page_010">10</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lieut. Stone’s mild admiration for, <a href="#page_184">184</a></span><br /> - -Captivity, its irksomeness and psychology, <a href="#page_139">139-46</a><br /> - -Carlton Hotel, a waiter at, now a German orderly in Mainz, <a href="#page_237">237</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his political views, <a href="#page_237">237</a></span><br /> - -Censor of letters, his natural modesty, <a href="#page_078">78</a><br /> - -Cheshire Cheese, the, visions of, in captivity and after, <a href="#page_188">188</a><br /> - -Chestnuts, their nutritive value as coffee, <a href="#page_027">27</a><br /> - -Chocolate, its Shavian importance in event of an escape, <a href="#page_160">160</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">its market price in Germany, <a href="#page_229">229</a></span><br /> - -Chocolate <i>soufflé</i>, novel recipe for, <a href="#page_132">132</a><br /> - -Claustrophobia, its effect on prisoners, <a href="#page_047">47</a><br /> - -Colonels, three British, attempt to escape from Mainz, <a href="#page_161">161</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">ignominious result of, <a href="#page_163">163</a></span><br /> - -Commandant of Mainz, the, his arrogant pomposity, <a href="#page_121">121</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his vindictiveness, <a href="#page_123">123</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his cheap revenges, <a href="#page_123">123</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his contempt for literature, <a href="#page_125">125</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his punishments for attempted escapes, <a href="#page_164">164</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his final error and fall, <a href="#page_242">242</a></span><br /> - -Committees, their characteristic abuses, <a href="#page_209">209</a><br /> - -<i>Continental Times</i>, the, its glib mendacity, <a href="#page_222">222</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">its pro-German propaganda, <a href="#page_223">223</a></span><br /> - -Cooking in a prison camp, <a href="#page_129">129</a><br /> - -Copenhagen, bread arrives from, <a href="#page_100">100</a><br /> - -Corporal, scepticism of a section-, <a href="#page_002">2</a><br /> - -Correspondence, abnormal, <a href="#page_014">14</a><br /> - -Cox, Messrs., the accommodating bankers, <a href="#page_058">58</a><br /> - -“Croft,” Col., as harbinger of food, <a href="#page_101">101</a><br /> - -Crown Prince, the, his inflammatory portraits, <a href="#page_098">98</a><br /> - -Cuff, Sergeant, in <i>The Moonstone</i>, <a href="#page_158">158</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="D" id="D"></a>Dane, Miss Clemence, her fiction under fire, <a href="#page_009">9</a><br /> - -Dickens, Charles, his extravagant characterisation reproduced in Col. “Westcott,” <a href="#page_069">69</a><br /> - -Dictaphones, German use of, <a href="#page_030">30</a><br /> - -Douai, prisoners march to, <a href="#page_023">23</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">illiterate melancholy of, <a href="#page_027">27</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">dictaphones at, <a href="#page_030">30</a></span><br /> - -“Dowdon,” Aubrey, his astounding musical gifts, <a href="#page_198">198</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his imperishable libretti, <a href="#page_201">201</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">stimulating his ambition, <a href="#page_202">202</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">to the rescue of the “Buckshees,” <a href="#page_212">212</a></span><br /> - -Dowson, Ernest, <a href="#page_188">188</a><br /> - -Doyle, Sir Francis Hastings, his inspiration of the modern soldier, <a href="#page_021">21</a><br /> - -“Dried Veg,” nutritive solace of, <a href="#page_056">56</a><br /> - -Dury, <a href="#page_024">24</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="E" id="E"></a>Ecoust, capture of, <a href="#page_004">4</a><br /> - -Education, the British dislike of, <a href="#page_068">68</a><br /> - -Escapes, the romance of, <a href="#page_152">152</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">various schemes for, <a href="#page_154">154</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the first attempt at, <a href="#page_158">158-62</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">effect of, upon cowardly natures, <a href="#page_164">164</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">punishment for attempts, <a href="#page_164">164</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Col. Wright’s splendid attempts, <a href="#page_167">167</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">and their frustration, <a href="#page_169">169</a></span><br /> - -“Evans,” Lieut., his knowledge of charts, <a href="#page_013">13</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his tactful reticence, <a href="#page_015">15</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his watchfulness, <a href="#page_015">15</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his unsuccessful quest for parcels, <a href="#page_106">106</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his enthusiasm for Col. “Westcott’s” oratory, <a href="#page_130">130</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his natural appetite, <a href="#page_134">134</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">and</span><br /> -picturesque language, <a href="#page_134">134</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his cookery examination, <a href="#page_136">136</a></span><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="F" id="F"></a>Field Service Regulations, their bearing upon capture, <a href="#page_018">18</a><br /> - -Finland, its future in the herring trade, <a href="#page_084">84</a><br /> - -Finnish language, the, its visionary path to a Priority Pass, <a href="#page_083">83</a><br /> - -Flaubert, Gustave, <a href="#page_144">144</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his slow workmanship, <a href="#page_183">183</a></span><br /> - -Foch, Marshal, effect of his offensive on the German mind, <a href="#page_232">232</a><br /> - -Food, the lack of, <a href="#page_027">27</a>, <a href="#page_031">31</a>, <a href="#page_050">50</a>, <a href="#page_051">51</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">cost of, in Germany, <a href="#page_228">228</a></span><br /> - -Food-parcels, their absorbing interest, <a href="#page_055">55</a>, <a href="#page_100">100</a>, <a href="#page_105">105</a><br /> - -Football in captivity, <a href="#page_194">194</a><br /> - -Frankfort, Central Command at, vindicates the integrity of literature, <a href="#page_126">126</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the effect of the armistice at, <a href="#page_240">240</a></span><br /> - -<i>Frankfurter Zeitung, Der</i>, its journalistic continence, <a href="#page_093">93</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">its popularity among prisoners, <a href="#page_223">223</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">no fosterer of wild rumour, <a href="#page_238">238</a></span><br /> - -French, German hatred of, <a href="#page_249">249</a><br /> - -French language, the, difficulty of acquiring among prisoners, <a href="#page_064">64</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the British bureaucrat’s estimate of, <a href="#page_066">66</a></span><br /> - -“Frobisher,” Capt., his military enthusiasm, <a href="#page_174">174</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his dislike of “the Huns,” <a href="#page_174">174</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his inappropriateness in the Alcove, <a href="#page_175">175</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the scheme for his removal, <a href="#page_176">176</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his antipathy to poetry, <a href="#page_177">177</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his final exit from the Alcove, <a href="#page_178">178</a></span><br /> - -Future Career Society, the, its inauguration and methods, <a href="#page_063">63</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">its bureaucratic administrators, <a href="#page_064">64-6</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">its early popularity and subsequent failure, <a href="#page_067">67-8</a></span><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="G" id="G"></a>Games in captivity, their scarcity, <a href="#page_193">193</a><br /> - -German officers, their unshaved condition, <a href="#page_019">19</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">their mean suspicions, <a href="#page_110">110</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">their lack of humour, <a href="#page_112">112</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">their duplicity, <a href="#page_121">121</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">solitary example of wit among, <a href="#page_126">126</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">degradation of, under revolution, <a href="#page_233">233</a></span><br /> - -German people, the, psychology in war-time, <a href="#page_091">91</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">its freedom from vindictiveness, <a href="#page_092">92</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">its ignorance of the origin of the war, <a href="#page_096">96</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">its despair at the result, <a href="#page_224">224</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">after the armistice, <a href="#page_248">248</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">German war-poetry considered, <a href="#page_094">94-6</a></span><br /> - -German professor, a, upon the war and the national characteristics, <a href="#page_097">97</a>, <a href="#page_238">238</a><br /> - -German sentries, their courteous demeanour, <a href="#page_033">33</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">their starved condition, <a href="#page_117">117</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">their ubiquity at Mainz, <a href="#page_153">153</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">neglect of duty, <a href="#page_162">162</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">their passion for boxing, <a href="#page_168">168</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">their visions in days to come, <a href="#page_191">191</a></span><br /> - -Gibbs, Mr. Philip, his vivid journalism, <a href="#page_014">14</a><br /> - -<i>Girl on the Stairs, The</i>, successful operetta at Mainz, <a href="#page_201">201</a><br /> - -“Gladstone,” Lieut., as a musical composer, <a href="#page_213">213</a><br /> - -Gomorrah, the dispensation of, <a href="#page_087">87</a><br /> - -Gosse, Mr. Edmund, quoted, <a href="#page_149">149</a><br /> - -Graves, Capt. Robert, his poems a perpetual comfort in the trenches, <a href="#page_009">9</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his admirable war-poetry, <a href="#page_094">94</a></span><br /> - -<i>Green Eye of the Little Yellow God, The</i>, masterpiece of Lieut. T. Milton Hayes, M.C., <a href="#page_041">41</a>, <a href="#page_042">42</a>, <a href="#page_043">43</a><br /> - -Guides, the trustworthiness of, in France, <a href="#page_011">11</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="H" id="H"></a>Ham, <a href="#page_014">14</a><br /> - -Hampstead, home, and beauty, <a href="#page_265">265</a><br /> - -Hardy, Mr. Thomas, unwilling sacrifice of his works under fire, <a href="#page_009">9</a><br /> - -Harrod’s Stores, its infallibility, <a href="#page_119">119</a><br /> - -“Hawkins,” Private, his dangerous passion for cigarettes, <a href="#page_016">16</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his convenient flesh-wound, <a href="#page_017">17</a></span><br /> - -“Hawkshaw, Silas P.,” Lieut. Milton Hayes’s great creation of, <a href="#page_217">217</a><br /> - -Hayes, Lieut. T. Milton, M.C., his personal appearance, <a href="#page_041">41</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his study of popular taste, <a href="#page_041">41</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his masterpieces, <a href="#page_041">41</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his literary methods and artistic imagination, <a href="#page_042">42</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">secret of his greatness, <a href="#page_043">43</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his exploitation of young love, <a href="#page_044">44</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his inevitable success after the war, <a href="#page_045">45</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his theories on the gratification of appetite, <a href="#page_054">54</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his genial presence in the Alcove, <a href="#page_179">179</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the Colossus of the Mainz Theatre, <a href="#page_198">198</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his smile, <a href="#page_198">198</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his childlike pleasure in his own wit, <a href="#page_199">199</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his temporary retirement, <a href="#page_205">205</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his restoration by Sanatogen, <a href="#page_205">205</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the victim of professional rivalry, <a href="#page_207">207</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">founds the “Buckshees,” <a href="#page_210">210</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his managerial methods, <a href="#page_212">212</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his beauty chorus, <a href="#page_214">214</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his wonderful opera, <a href="#page_216">216</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">himself alone the Arabian bird, <a href="#page_217">217</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the eternal gratitude of his friends, <a href="#page_221">221</a></span><br /> - -Heine, Heinrich, his bridge at Mainz, <a href="#page_047">47</a><br /> - -Hendecourt, capture of, <a href="#page_006">6</a><br /> - -Hindenburg, German faith in, <a href="#page_020">20</a><br /> - -Hockey in captivity, <a href="#page_195">195</a><br /> - -Holzminden, a notoriously bad camp, <a href="#page_120">120</a><br /> - -Housman, Mr. A. E., Lieut. Stone’s recitations from, <a href="#page_176">176</a><br /> - -Hueffer, Mr. Ford Madox, confiscation of his <i>Heaven</i> by German officials, <a href="#page_111">111</a><br /> - -Humour, German lack of, <a href="#page_112">112</a><br /> - -Hunger, a prisoner’s purgatory, <a href="#page_031">31</a>, <a href="#page_051">51</a>, <a href="#page_052">52</a><br /> - -“Huns,” German distaste for the term, <a href="#page_112">112</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="I-i" id="I-i"></a>Ill-treatment of English officers in prison-camps, <a href="#page_120">120</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">by incompetent German doctors, <a href="#page_128">128</a></span><br /> - -Imprisonment, effect on the nerves, <a href="#page_138">138</a><br /> - -Interpreters, German, their simple gullibility, <a href="#page_029">29</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">their estimate of <i>John Bull</i>, <a href="#page_030">30</a></span><br /> - -Irishmen, their vitality in a queue, <a href="#page_061">61</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="J" id="J"></a>Jealousy, professional, of rival actors, <a href="#page_202">202</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">its influence on captivity, <a href="#page_203">203</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">its comparison with the hate of nations, <a href="#page_204">204</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">it works like mischief, <a href="#page_208">208</a></span><br /> - -<i>John Bull</i>, the London weekly, German interpreter’s witticism concerning, <a href="#page_030">30</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="K" id="K"></a>Kaiser, the, his boasted resemblance to Attila, <a href="#page_113">113</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his continued popularity in Germany, <a href="#page_231">231</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his desertion, <a href="#page_232">232</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the scapegoat of his people, <a href="#page_252">252</a></span><br /> - -<i>Kantine</i>, the, at Mainz, its uses and abuses, <a href="#page_055">55</a>, <a href="#page_059">59</a>, <a href="#page_060">60</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">its supply of text-books, <a href="#page_067">67</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">its consolations and diversions, <a href="#page_145">145</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">its commercial subtlety, <a href="#page_147">147</a></span><br /> - -Karlsruhe, prisoners arrive at, <a href="#page_033">33</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">comparative comfort of, <a href="#page_037">37</a></span><br /> - -<i>Knave of Diamonds, The</i>, Lieut. Milton Hayes’s strange theory concerning, <a href="#page_055">55</a><br /> - -Köln, the revolution at, <a href="#page_232">232</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="L" id="L"></a>Lawn tennis in captivity, <a href="#page_195">195</a><br /> - -Lens, alarming reports concerning, <a href="#page_014">14</a><br /> - -“Leola, daughter of the Hesperides,” her appearance and its effect, <a href="#page_215">215</a><br /> - -Lice, plague of, <a href="#page_031">31</a><br /> - -Lille, apprehension regarding, <a href="#page_014">14</a><br /> - -Lissauer, his cheap vehemence, <a href="#page_095">95</a><br /> - -Literature, its military inconvenience, <a href="#page_008">8</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">its military relation to book-keeping, <a href="#page_065">65</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">its contemptuous ill-treatment by German officers, <a href="#page_126">126</a></span><br /> - -Liver paste, its popularity among prisoners, <a href="#page_060">60</a><br /> - -Longworth, Mr. F. Dames-, his epistolary courtesies, <a href="#page_235">235</a><br /> - -<i>Loom of Youth, The</i>, its length and breadth, <a href="#page_182">182</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">its characteristic language, <a href="#page_182">182</a></span><br /> - -<i>Lorna Doone</i> as a study in the gratification of appetite, <a href="#page_055">55</a><br /> - -Louis Napoleon in <i>La Débâcle</i>, strange effect upon a hungry prisoner, <a href="#page_054">54</a><br /> - -Louvain, commissariat at, <a href="#page_034">34</a><br /> - -<i>Lustige Blätter</i>, its gory caricatures, <a href="#page_093">93</a><br /> - -Lyceum melodrama and the facts of war, <a href="#page_021">21</a><br /> - -Lyttelton, Canon the Hon. E., his repugnance to actuality, <a href="#page_174">174</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his helpful literary criticisms, <a href="#page_235">235</a></span><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="M" id="M"></a>Maconochie’s beef dripping, <a href="#page_108">108</a>, <a href="#page_129">129</a><br /> - -Mainz, unpleasing prospect of, <a href="#page_045">45</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">doleful arrival at, <a href="#page_046">46</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">architectural features of, <a href="#page_046">46-47</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the Offizier Kriegsgefangenenlager at, <a href="#page_047">47</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">“shades of the prison-house,” <a href="#page_048">48</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">prisoners’ routine at, <a href="#page_048">48</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">arrival of parcels at, <a href="#page_056">56</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">bombardment of, <a href="#page_123">123</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">inadequate medical service at, <a href="#page_127">127</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the impregnability of its citadel, <a href="#page_152">152-71</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">revolutionists arrive at, <a href="#page_232">232</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the armistice at, <a href="#page_246">246</a></span><br /> - -Major, illicit process of a, <a href="#page_215">215</a><br /> - -Manicure, its practice in captivity, <a href="#page_150">150</a><br /> - -Marchiennes, <a href="#page_031">31</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">commandant at, his strict attention to business, <a href="#page_032">32</a></span><br /> - -Mark, the value of, <a href="#page_058">58</a><br /> - -Maupassant, Guy de, <a href="#page_187">187</a><br /> - -Medical service, the German, total inadequacy at Mainz, <a href="#page_127">127</a><br /> - -Melancholia of captivity, <a href="#page_142">142</a><br /> - -Metz, prisoners entrain for, <a href="#page_256">256</a><br /> - -Monchy, M.G.C. at, <a href="#page_005">5</a>, <a href="#page_014">14</a>, <a href="#page_024">24</a><br /> - -Moore, Mr. George, effect of his prose upon a prisoner of war, <a href="#page_038">38</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his yearning for a new language, <a href="#page_082">82</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his support expected, <a href="#page_087">87</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his confessions, <a href="#page_189">189</a></span><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="N" id="N"></a>Nancy, prisoners at, <a href="#page_257">257</a><br /> - -Nichols, Mr. Robert, his fine war-poetry, <a href="#page_095">95</a><br /> - -Noreil, capture of, <a href="#page_004">4</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="O" id="O"></a>Offensive, the Great (March <a href="#page_021">21</a>, 1918), <a href="#page_001">1-17</a><br /> - -Officers, English, their treatment as prisoners, <a href="#page_118">118</a><br /> - -Otto’s Grammars, illicit hoarding of, <a href="#page_067">67</a><br /> -<i>Oxford Book of English Verse</i>, its preservation from the Germans, <a href="#page_010">10</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="P" id="P"></a>Pater, Walter, and the psychology of captivity, <a href="#page_144">144</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">quoted, <a href="#page_149">149</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lieut. Stone’s admiration for, <a href="#page_184">184</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">quoted, <a href="#page_188">188</a></span><br /> - -Patriotism denounced by Lieut. Stone under the influence of Rhine wine, <a href="#page_178">178</a><br /> - -Paymaster, official activities of, <a href="#page_058">58</a>, <a href="#page_061">61</a><br /> - -Peace, German passion for, <a href="#page_035">35</a>, <a href="#page_036">36</a>, <a href="#page_230">230</a><br /> - -Perambulation the sole diversion of the prisoner, <a href="#page_196">196</a><br /> - -Peronne, <a href="#page_014">14</a><br /> - -<i>Pickwick Papers</i>, Lieut. Milton Hayes upon, <a href="#page_054">54</a><br /> - -Pitt League, the, its foundation by Col. “Westcott,” <a href="#page_071">71</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">its principle of combination, <a href="#page_072">72</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the origin of its name, <a href="#page_072">72</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">its imperialistic sweep, <a href="#page_073">73</a>, <a href="#page_074">74</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">its military comprehensiveness, <a href="#page_074">74</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">its success, <a href="#page_076">76</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">its further development as the Pitt Escape League, <a href="#page_166">166</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">its beneficent foundation of the “Alcove,” <a href="#page_173">173</a></span><br /> - -Porter, Mrs. Gene Stratton, efforts of a prisoner to secure her masterpiece, <a href="#page_050">50</a><br /> - -“Pows,” the, concert party at Mainz, <a href="#page_197">197</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the rousing of its ambition, <a href="#page_200">200</a></span><br /> - -Press, the British, its indefatigable propaganda, <a href="#page_029">29</a><br /> - -Priority Pass, the, its conception by Lieut. “Wilkins,” <a href="#page_077">77</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">its philosophy, <a href="#page_078">78</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">its deceptive working, <a href="#page_080">80</a></span><br /> - -Public School Education, its effect on the soul of youth, <a href="#page_148">148</a><br /> - -Punch, the gospel of Lieut. Milton Hayes, <a href="#page_213">213</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="Q" id="Q"></a>Queues, their origin and psychology, <a href="#page_058">58</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="R" id="R"></a>“Radcliffe,” Lieut., his mastery of the piano, <a href="#page_213">213</a><br /> - -“Ragging” the Commandant of Mainz, <a href="#page_123">123</a><br /> - -Railway travelling in Germany, its pestilent conditions, <a href="#page_034">34</a><br /> - -R.A.M.C., ingenious treatment of bread, <a href="#page_102">102</a><br /> - -Rations, poverty of, <a href="#page_050">50</a>, <a href="#page_051">51</a><br /> - -Red Cross Prisoners of War Depôt, its efficiency and worth, <a href="#page_037">37</a>, <a href="#page_038">38</a>, <a href="#page_100">100</a>, <a href="#page_110">110</a><br /> - -Reincourt, capture of, <a href="#page_006">6</a><br /> - -Respirator, the psychical qualities of a, <a href="#page_001">1</a><br /> - -Revolution, the, in Mainz, <a href="#page_232">232</a>, <a href="#page_236">236</a><br /> - -Rhine wine, effect of, upon Lieut. Stone, <a href="#page_175">175</a>, <a href="#page_185">185</a><br /> - -Richards, Mr. Grant, his publisher’s contracts, <a href="#page_183">183</a><br /> - -Richardson, Mr. H. H., Lieut. Stone’s enthusiasm for the works of, <a href="#page_184">184</a><br /> - -<i>Romance</i>, the Lyric Theatre success, Lieut. T. Milton Hayes’s analysis of, <a href="#page_044">44</a><br /> - -Routine of the Gefangenenlager, <a href="#page_048">48</a><br /> - -Russia, German theory about, <a href="#page_096">96</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="S" id="S"></a>Sanatogen, its effect on Lieut. Milton Hayes, <a href="#page_205">205</a><br /> - -Sassoon, Mr. Siegfried, his “In the Pink,” <a href="#page_095">95</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">a poor compliment to, <a href="#page_223">223</a></span><br /> - -Satin-tasso as a resource in captivity, <a href="#page_146">146</a><br /> - -Sauerkraut, ubiquity of, <a href="#page_031">31</a>, <a href="#page_050">50</a><br /> - -Scarlet Pimpernel, the, as an example to adventurous prisoners, <a href="#page_166">166</a><br /> - -Schopenhauer, Lieut. Stone expounds, <a href="#page_176">176</a><br /> - -Schoolmasters, their intellectual mediocrity, <a href="#page_069">69</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">their stock defence, <a href="#page_148">148</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the long array of, in the <i>Spectator</i>, <a href="#page_235">235</a></span><br /> - -Scotsmen, their dilatoriness in queues, <a href="#page_061">61</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">their assistance in Col. Wright’s attempt to escape, <a href="#page_168">168</a></span><br /> - -Secrecy, official regard for, <a href="#page_007">7</a><br /> - -Selfridge’s, its efficient service, <a href="#page_119">119</a><br /> - -Sentries, German, their unexpected affability, <a href="#page_033">33</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">their starvation, <a href="#page_117">117</a></span><br /> - -Sergeant-Major, alcoholic dignity of an English, <a href="#page_023">23</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">blindness of a German, <a href="#page_031">31</a></span><br /> - -Shakespeare, William, hastily misquoted by a subaltern, <a href="#page_009">9</a><br /> - -“Shivers,” the, theatrical company at Mainz, <a href="#page_200">200</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">its beneficent competition, <a href="#page_200">200</a></span><br /> - -Shorthand, the British bureaucratic esteem for, <a href="#page_066">66</a><br /> - -<i>Simplicissimus</i>, its filthy cartoons, <a href="#page_093">93</a><br /> - -Squire, Mr. J. C., his “To a Bull-dog,” <a href="#page_095">95</a><br /> - -Starvation, phenomena of, <a href="#page_028">28</a>, <a href="#page_051">51</a>, <a href="#page_053">53</a>, <a href="#page_117">117</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">of Germany, <a href="#page_228">228</a></span><br /> - -St. Leger, the Rev. B. G. Bourchier’s army hut at, <a href="#page_005">5</a><br /> - -“Stone,” Lieut., his ready wit, <a href="#page_039">39</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his fortunate arrival at Mainz, <a href="#page_048">48</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his sufferings under the Priority Pass system, <a href="#page_080">80-2</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his opinion of botany as a science, <a href="#page_082">82</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his share in the vision of a new language, <a href="#page_083">83</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">tackles Capt. Frobisher, <a href="#page_175">175</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his lecture on the “higher life,” <a href="#page_176">176</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his brilliant conversation, <a href="#page_184">184</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">effects of Rhine wine upon, <a href="#page_175">175</a>, <a href="#page_185">185</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his unrecited poems, <a href="#page_186">186</a></span><br /> - -Swedish drill, British distaste for, <a href="#page_194">194</a><br /> - -Swinburne, Algernon Charles, his poems as a covert for propaganda, <a href="#page_125">125</a><br /> - -Symons, Mr. Arthur, quoted, <a href="#page_028">28</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the women of his songs, <a href="#page_189">189</a></span><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="T" id="T"></a>“Tarrant,” Lieut., his endurance under control, <a href="#page_038">38</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his asceticism, <a href="#page_038">38</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his critical sallies, <a href="#page_040">40</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his self-imposed fast, <a href="#page_040">40</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">providential arrival of, at Mainz, <a href="#page_048">48</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his invaluable library, <a href="#page_049">49</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his breakfast hour, <a href="#page_179">179</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his morning apparel, <a href="#page_180">180</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his literary exercises, <a href="#page_181">181</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his accuracy, <a href="#page_182">182</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his frank opinion of the author’s fiction, <a href="#page_235">235</a></span><br /> - -Tartarin re-embodied in Col. “Westcott,” <a href="#page_073">73</a><br /> - -<i>Tatler</i>, the, its coy picture-gallery, <a href="#page_005">5</a><br /> - -Tchecov, his short stories, <a href="#page_187">187</a><br /> - -Theatre, the, at Mainz, closed as a punishment for attempted escapes, <a href="#page_165">165</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">its peaceful penetration, <a href="#page_172">172</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">its excellent shows, <a href="#page_197">197</a></span><br /> - -Thurloe Place, the Good Samaritan of the P.O.W., <a href="#page_107">107</a>, <a href="#page_109">109</a><br /> - -Torquennes, <a href="#page_024">24</a><br /> - -Treacle, its value in chocolate <i>soufflé</i>, <a href="#page_134">134</a><br /> - -Treatment of prisoners, <a href="#page_116">116</a> <i>et seq.</i><br /> - -<i>Troubadour, Der</i>, at Mainz, <a href="#page_254">254</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="V-i" id="V-i"></a>Verlaine, Paul, <a href="#page_188">188</a><br /> - -Vis-en-Artois, <a href="#page_024">24</a><br /> - -Vitry, prisoners’ reception at, <a href="#page_026">26</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="W" id="W"></a>War-poetry, good and bad, <a href="#page_094">94</a><br /> - -War and the politicians, <a href="#page_226">226</a> <i>et seq.</i><br /> - -Watts-Dunton, Mr. Theodore, compared with Lieut. Stone, <a href="#page_185">185</a><br /> - -Waugh, 2nd Lieut. Alec R., his dogmatic statements on men and matters, <a href="#page_001">1-267</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his abnormal correspondence, <a href="#page_014">14</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his dogged somnolence, <a href="#page_015">15</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his first meeting with Milton Hayes, <a href="#page_041">41</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his ambitions for a future career, and their reception by Authority, <a href="#page_064">64</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his apocalyptic vision of a new language, <a href="#page_083">83</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his imaginary acquisition of a Priority Pass, <a href="#page_086">86</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his chastened disillusionment, <a href="#page_090">90</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his recognition of his own good fortune, <a href="#page_092">92</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his selection as cook to the mess, <a href="#page_130">130</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his culinary prowess, <a href="#page_132">132-6</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his experiment on the school organ, <a href="#page_157">157</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his contented hours in the Alcove, <a href="#page_186">186</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his love of the years before he was born, <a href="#page_189">189</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his castigation by a body of bureaucrats, <a href="#page_209">209</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">an unwarrantable compliment to, <a href="#page_223">223</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his apostacy as a rebel, <a href="#page_234">234</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">German adjutant’s literary judgment of, <a href="#page_235">235</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his return home, <a href="#page_265">265</a></span><br /> - -Waugh, Mr. Arthur, his paternal benevolence, <a href="#page_266">266</a><br /> - -Waugh, Mrs. Arthur, her Scottish descent, <a href="#page_261">261</a><br /> - -Weather, the, effect upon a prisoner’s spirits, <a href="#page_050">50</a><br /> - -Webster, John, the favourite quotation of prisoners of war, <a href="#page_142">142</a><br /> - -Wells, Mr. H. G., Lieut. Stone discusses, <a href="#page_184">184</a><br /> - -“Westcott,” Col., his Dickensian qualities, <a href="#page_069">69</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his relation to the music-hall stage, <a href="#page_069">69</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his soldierly grip, <a href="#page_070">70</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his hatred of individualism, <a href="#page_070">70</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his bravery, <a href="#page_071">71</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his foundation of the Pitt League, <a href="#page_071">71</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his opening speech, <a href="#page_071">71</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his sense of humour, <a href="#page_072">72</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his likeness to Tartarin, <a href="#page_073">73</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his indomitable energy, <a href="#page_075">75</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his affection for his own scheme, <a href="#page_075">75</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">as Prime Minister, <a href="#page_076">76</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his encouragement of honest ambition, <a href="#page_084">84</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his “dream within a dream,” <a href="#page_089">89</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the popularity of his speeches, <a href="#page_130">130</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his interest in attempted escapes, <a href="#page_155">155</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the Gallio of frivolous amusement, <a href="#page_193">193</a></span><br /> - -<i>Whitest Man I know, The</i>, eminent monologue by Lieut. T. Milton Hayes, M.C., <a href="#page_041">41</a><br /> - -“Wilkins,” Lieut., his ingenious conception of the Priority Pass, <a href="#page_079">79</a><br /> - -Woman, her ruling passion for self-advertisement, <a href="#page_170">170</a><br /> - -Wood-carving as a resource in captivity, <a href="#page_145">145</a><br /> - -“Wright,” Col., his valiant attempt to escape, <a href="#page_166">166</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his choice of daylight, <a href="#page_166">166</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his unfortunate intrusion upon a German amour, <a href="#page_169">169</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the result, <a href="#page_170">170</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his disappearance from Mainz, <a href="#page_171">171</a></span><br /> -<br /> -<a name="Z" id="Z"></a>Zola, Émile, <i>La Terre</i> in the dugout, <a href="#page_010">10</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>La Débâcle</i> as an irritant to hunger, <a href="#page_053">53</a></span><br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_283" id="page_283"></a>{283}</span></p> - -<hr /> - -<p class="cb"><span class="undd">BY THE SAME AUTHOR</span><br /><br /> - -<big><big>THE LOOM OF YOUTH</big></big><br /><br /> -<small>BY</small></p> - -<p class="cb">ALEC WAUGH</p> - -<p class="cb"> -NINTH EDITION TWENTIETH THOUSAND<br /> -</p> - -<p class="cb">GRANT RICHARDS, LTD.</p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="c"><i>SOME PRESS OPINIONS</i></p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="undd"><span class="smcap">Mr. J. C. Squire</span> in <i>Land and Water</i>.</span></p> - -<p>“The difficulties of writing good school stories are matters of -commonplace observation. The boy cannot see everything, and, as a rule, -cannot write. The man forgets much and sentimentalises much. The dilemma -will never be completely avoided. But Mr. Alec Waugh’s ‘The Loom of -Youth’ is a remarkable attempt.... At his best, he manages his material -like an old hand. It is a most astonishing feat.”</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="undd"><span class="smcap">Capt. C. K. Scott-Moncrieff</span> in <i>The New Witness</i>.</span></p> - -<p>“Mr. Waugh has told us a story, the story of Gordon Carruthers’ life at -Fernhurst.... I look forward confidently to see him come to grips with -the army as thoroughly as he has done with the schools. This year has -been big with futures, among which that of Robert Nichols seems -incomparably to outshine all the rest. But Mr. Waugh is an author to be -diligently followed and enjoyed with delight.”</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="undd"><span class="smcap">Mr. Gerald Gould</span> in <i>The New Statesman</i>.</span></p> - -<p>“For a writer of any age ‘The Loom of Youth’ would be a remarkable -achievement; for a boy of seventeen it is more.... And the language is -fresh and real, the talk is boys’ talk, such as only some one fresh from -it could render.... Difficulties are overcome in two ways—firstly by -sheer sound psychology, by making the characters so interesting that it -is their minds, not their external activities, that we bother about.... -I want, in conclusion, to recommend this book for its courage as well as -for its interest. One main problem of school life is the moral one, -which most writers shirk, or if they treat it at all, treat -sentimentally and timidly and obliquely. Mr. Waugh goes right to the -point.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_284" id="page_284"></a>{284}</span></p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="undd"><span class="smcap">Mr. Ralph Straus</span> in <i>The Bystander</i>.</span></p> - -<p>“You feel that all the boys at Fernhurst ... are real people, not the -agreeable caricatures, for instance, of ‘The Hill’; and in the Games -Master who is so pleasantly nicknamed ‘The Bull’ Mr. Waugh has created a -character which epitomises the whole Public School system.... ‘The Loom -of Youth’ will take its place amongst the few first-class school stories -which have been published this century.”</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="undd"><span class="smcap">Mr. E. B. Osborn</span> in <i>The Morning Post</i>.</span></p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>The Loom of Youth’ has some of the faults of the modern realistic -story of Public School life. But these faults are insignificant in -comparison with its unusual merits, chief of which is the sharp -actuality of its characterisation.... The boys and masters we meet are -of reasonable flesh and blood; of the latter ‘The Bull,’ once an England -forward and now games master, is the dominant personality.”</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="undd"><span class="smcap">Mr. J. A. Fort</span> in <i>The Spectator</i>.</span></p> - -<p>“The work, which seems to me one of extraordinary power, seems to me -also an honest attempt to ‘tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing -but the truth,’ as the author himself saw it. I think that the writer -is, as a matter of fact, a very good witness in regard to certain phases -of Public School life, and the publication of his book is, I believe, an -event of considerable importance in the educational world.”</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="undd"><span class="smcap">Mr. Edwin Pugh</span> in <i>The Bookman</i>.</span></p> - -<p>“In ‘The Loom of Youth’ we have the truth presented with austere -sincerity, with dignity and restraint.... Indeed this first book is in -itself a fine achievement, well conceived, well done in every way, and -wholly praiseworthy, alike for the excellence of its writing and the -worthiness of its purpose.”</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="undd"><span class="smcap">Mr. H. W. Massingham</span> in <i>The Nation</i>.</span></p> - -<p>“I have read few books that have interested me more than Mr. Waugh’s -‘Loom of Youth.’ It is in one respect an almost miraculous -production.... It is a most straightforward account; it cannot have been -invented, and yet I thought it sufficiently delicate.”</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="undd"><i>Punch</i>.</span></p> - -<p>“Prophecy is dangerous; but from a writer who has proved so brilliantly -that, for once, <span class="undd">jeunesse peut</span>, one seems justified in hoping that -enlarged experience will result in work of the highest quality.”</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="undd"><i>The Times</i>.</span></p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>The Loom of Youth’ is a most promising book. Mr. Alec Waugh has -something definite to say, the ability to say it, and an apprehension of -the subtler causes of action and inaction.”</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="undd"><i>The Daily Telegraph</i>.</span></p> - -<p>“An altogether <i>remarkable book</i>.”</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="undd"><i>The Spectator</i>.</span></p> - -<p>“We ought to congratulate his old school on having produced a new author -of such marked ability.”</p> - -<hr class="full" /> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Prisoners of Mainz, by Alec Waugh - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PRISONERS OF MAINZ *** - -***** This file should be named 54203-h.htm or 54203-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/4/2/0/54203/ - -Produced by Chuck Greif, MWS and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions 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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