My Escape from Germany 18

My Escape from Germany 18

CHAPTER XIV

 

PRISON LIFE AND OFFICIALS

 

 

Not long before I arrived in prison, a change had taken place in its

official personnel. Formerly, the internment side and the military side

had been under different commanders.

 

What I heard from my friends about the character of the man in charge

of the interned, previous to my coming, caused me to congratulate

myself upon my good luck in not having to encounter him. He had been an

out-and-out bully. He was transferred to Ruhleben camp later on, where

he went under the name of “Stadtvogtei Billy.”

 

The officer in command of the prison after “Stadtvogtei Billy”

had gone, had charge of the interned and military prisoners. This

_Oberleutnant_, to give him his German title, was a schoolmaster in

civil life. As such he was a government official and duly imbued with

the prescribed attitude of mind.

 

Officially we had not much to do with him. Occasionally we had to

approach him for some small request or other, and found him courteous

enough then. When he took the initiative, something disagreeable

usually happened, or was going to happen.

 

Often he called upon some of us for a chat. That was always something

of a trial. He never could get rid of his _ex cathedra_ manners; he

knew only the approved official version of whatever he was talking

about, and mostly chose rather unfortunate themes for his discourses.

“Prussian superiority in everything, but particularly in war,” “the

eminent qualities of the Prussian rulers,” “Prussian strategy in

war favorably compared with that of other nations, particularly the

British,” “Jewish treason and wickedness”--such were his favorite

topics. Quite frankly he ran down everything British and American. The

United States in particular was sighing under the absolute rule of two

wicked autocrats, one called the “President,” the other the “Almighty

Dollar.” They were inhabited partly by Germans and partly by a mass

of ignorant and unteachable fools and cowards, who, unable to grasp

the intellectual and moral righteousness of the German nation, spouted

against them, but were afraid to act. He used to bore us to tears, and

his departure was always followed by sighs of relief.

 

Of middle size, he was well built, and kept himself superbly fit. He

knew a little about boxing, and often commanded one of the Englishmen

to be his sparring partner in one of the big empty cells of the

military part. His tactics were to strike blows as hard as he could.

Once or twice this was discouraged by his opponent.

 

The sergeant-major came officially into contact with us every day when

he made his rounds. He was a handsome fellow, stout, with almost white

hair and a fresh complexion, much younger than he looked, and an old

army man. With the mannerism of a German N.C.O., he was a kindly fellow

at heart, and easy to get on with. Although his voice could be heard

thundering somewhere in the prison at any hour of the day, his bark was

ever so much worse than his bite.

 

The N.C.O.’s acting as warders in our section were always considerate

to us and the other plutocrats, though in different degrees and for

different reasons. One or two treated us decently, quite spontaneously,

and strictly within the limits of their duty. As for the rest, a _quid

pro quo_ was the more or less openly confessed basis of their behavior

toward us.

 

The scarcity of food in Germany made it inexpensive and easy for us

to keep the wheels oiled. A tin of herring or of dripping, or a few

biscuits went a very long way. I think we were perfectly justified in

making these small donations.

 

The doctor visited the prison only for an hour or two every morning,

except Sundays. Any one who was foolish enough to be taken suddenly and

seriously ill after he had gone, had to wait until the next day, and,

if he carried his stupidity so far as to do it on a Saturday, he could

not hope for medical attention until Monday morning.

 

Dr. Béland always helped as far as he could in such cases. Many a night

he was fetched out of bed to give first aid. He was handicapped in this

work of charity by his lack of drugs and stimulants.

 

There was a chapel in the prison, whose parson was supposed to look

after our spiritual welfare. Personally, I never spoke to him, nor did

I approach his shop. The __EXPRESSION__ fits, as I shall try to demonstrate.

 

Among us we had an engineer, M., who felt it necessary to observe his

religious duties, and wished to take part in the services held in the

chapel. He went to the parson to proffer his request.

 

“The Lord God is not for the English,” were the words in which he

refused it.

 

The unchanging routine of our prison day was as follows: the doors of

the cells, locked during the night, were opened again at half-past

seven o’clock in the morning. While the Kalfacters cleaned the cells,

we prepared breakfast in the kitchen. The meal over, some went into the

courtyard for a walk, while others employed themselves in whatever way

they felt most inclined. The canteen was open from ten o’clock until

half-past ten. At eleven o’clock the midday soup was distributed. It

did not concern us Englishmen, for we never took our share. The kitchen

was opened again now for the preparation of the midday meal, and there

was usually a rush to secure one or more of the gas-rings. The cleaning

of vegetables, peeling of potatoes, and other preparations had been

previously undertaken in the cells by all hands. The cooking itself

was attended to by the cook of the mess and day. Soon after eleven

the distribution of parcels from England was to be expected. On their

arrival an N.C.O. went into the yard and shouted the names of the lucky

ones, generally mispronouncing them. Leaving everything to take care of

itself, their owners went helter-skelter down to the office to take

possession of their packages. From half-past three o’clock till five it

was again possible to brew tea and cook, and from four to six to be in

the yard. At seven o’clock we were locked up for the night. In summer,

artificial light was not permitted in the cells; in winter, the current

was switched off at nine o’clock.

 

The most important question for us was that of the food-supply. If,

accidentally, a week or two was barren of parcels, the man who missed

them was apt to become a nuisance to his companions by his constant

__EXPRESSION__s of grieved astonishment about this “absolutely inexplicable

stoppage.” This was the case regardless of whether he had a month’s

supply in hand or not.

 

It did not mean that we were gluttons. Apart from the absolute

necessity of receiving a sufficient amount of English food, parcels

and letters were the links connecting us with the Old Country. When a

link was broken we felt lost and forsaken. A cessation of letters had

a similar effect. Our correspondence was limited to four post-cards

and two letters a month. Communication between prisoners of war in

different places of internment was prohibited. We were not informed of

this, however, until the summer of 1917. A great light dawned on me

then, for I could understand at last why my friends in camp had not

written to me.

 

While in “solitary” and for two months afterward, I had a struggle to

make both ends meet as far as food was concerned. Only a modicum of my

letters and parcels from England arrived. I was absolutely ignorant of

the fact that friends were helping me with a generosity for which I can

never be sufficiently grateful. Having no relatives who could send me

food, I applied at last to one of the organizations sending parcels to

prisoners of war and was adopted by a generous lady in Southampton.

 

About that time I joined a mess of four. The pooling of our resources

made them rather more than merely sufficient for us. I debated whether

I should stop the last-named parcels. But there was always so much

opportunity of helping others, and so much doubt whether our parcels

would continue, that I said nothing.

 

Among a section of the British community it had always been considered

an obvious duty to help their less fortunate compatriots with food,

when they could afford it and the latter were in need. All new-comers

required help until their parcels began arriving. Those who were

placed in solitary confinement had to be looked after during the term

of their punishment, for they were not permitted to have their parcels.

 

At first this was all done without method and with resulting hardships

to individuals. When coöperation among the greater number of the

British prisoners was finally brought about, every man “behind the

gate” received tea for breakfast, a hot dinner of canned meat and

vegetables, and a substantial supper at five o’clock.

 

Occasionally we received cases of food from the Relief in Kind

Committee at Ruhleben to be distributed among the British. Here

again little method was observed at first. But in course of time the

organization was perfected.

 

Up to the beginning of May, 1916, the prisoners had to heat their food

on spirit stoves as best they might. Then fuel for these stoves became

unobtainable, and the prison authorities turned one of the large cells

on the top floor into a kitchen, installing a number of gas-rings at

the private expense of the British colony. For a charge the equivalent

of a cent, one could obtain a pint of boiling water or use one of the

rings for half an hour.

 

As long as vegetables were obtainable, we fared very well. On our

declaring that we could not take the prison food, the authorities

issued potatoes to us by way of compensation. During the winter

of 1916-17 the scarcity of this vegetable became so great in the

“Fatherland” that mangel-wurzels were generally used instead, of which

we got our scanty share. It was a severe tax upon our culinary skill to

disguise them sufficiently to make them eatable. Palatable they could

not be made. I was cook at the time for a small mess and the sauces I

manufactured with the help of curry-powder, pepper, salt, vinegar, and

mustard, would haunt a professional cook to the end of his days.

 

I am afraid I have dwelt a long time upon this question of food. But

then, it was the most important one for us. We never could escape it.

Three times a day at least we were reminded of it by the necessity

of preparing a meal. Our attitude toward food and eating was largely

influenced by a feeling of insecurity. “How long will it be before our

parcels stop arriving?” was a question ever present in our minds.

 

It must be admitted that we seldom lost our appetites, despite the

fact that we could take little exercise. Officially, the only place

to get this was the yard. Paved with granite blocks, it did not offer

altogether ideal facilities. The sun reached the bottom of this well

in one corner only during the three best months of the year. In fine,

mild weather it was always so packed with humanity--and that not of

the cleanest kind--that the air was worse than in the cells. Except

in rainy or cold weather it stagnated, and engendered a feeling of

lassitude which often was the precursor of a headache.

 

Generally speaking, the prison was badly ventilated, although seemingly

ample provision had been made for a change of air in the building.

At certain hours of the day smells of the worst kind pervaded the

corridors. In the broken light of the evening, the pall of fetid and

evil air surrounding the whole place became visible to any one looking

from an upper window across the yard toward the bright western sky.

In spite of all, however, Swedish drill at night, occasional fierce

romps with our friends, or a few rounds with the gloves in a space

which permitted only a stand-up ding-dong way of sparring, kept us in tolerable health.