CHAPTER XVIII. The Camp of Abandoned Hope

THE CAMP OF ABANDONED HOPE

It was 4.30 in the morning of November 12 when the blare of the bugle echoed through the long, dreary passages of Klingelputz Prison. To the British prisoners--in fact to all the aliens--that crash was of fearful import.

We were commanded to parade at 5 a.m. in one of the long upper corridors flanked on either side by cells. We were formed in a double line, and as our names were called we had to step forward. The roll-call was bawled out, not once, but half a dozen times to make positive it had been read correctly. Then we were counted, also some half-a-dozen times, to assure the totals tallying.

These preliminaries completed, preparations for our transference to Ruhleben were hurried forward. We packed up our belongings, together with all the food upon which we could place our hands, and re-lined up. Under a strong guard we were marched to Cologne station. On the way, several of us, anxious to communicate with our friends and relatives, notifying them of our new address, dropped post-cards into the roadway. The idea was to attract the attention of the guards to them, and then by bribe to induce them to place them in the post. But the officers were too eagle-eyed. They evidently anticipated such a ruse and accordingly kept the soldiers under severe surveillance. One soldier who picked up a post-card, which I had dropped in this manner, was caught in the act and received a terrifying rating on the spot. Thus we who dropped the cards had to rely upon the tender mercies and good-natured feeling of whoever chanced to pick them up to slip them into the post, but I fear very few were dispatched.

We were huddled into the train at Cologne, but it was not until 8.30 that we steamed out of the station. We travelled continuously throughout the day until we reached Hannover at 9 in the evening. During the journey, those who had exercised the forethought to bring food with them had every reason to congratulate themselves, because this was all upon which we had to subsist during the twelve and a half hours' travelling. The authorities did not furnish us with so much as a crust of bread or a spoonful of water. Moreover, if we chanced to pull up at a station where refreshments of any kind might have been procurable, we were not allowed to satisfy our cravings. At one stop, owing to one of our comrades falling ill, we asked the Red Cross for a drop of water. We paid a mark--one shilling--for it, but after taking the money they merely jeered, spat at us, and refused to respond to our request.

At Hannover we were permitted to buy what we could, but I may say that it was very little because the buffet attempted to rob us unmercifully. A tiny sandwich cost fourpence, while a small basin of thin and unappetising soup, evidently prepared in anticipation of our arrival, was just as expensive. Still the fact remains that throughout the whole railway journey the German authorities never supplied us with a mouthful of food.

After a wait of three hours at Hannover the train resumed its journey, reaching the station adjacent to the camp at Ruhleben at 6.0 a.m. Thus we had been confined to our carriages for 21-1/2 hours, suffering intense discomfort from the stifling atmosphere and our cramped quarters.

Our first impression of Ruhleben was by no means inspiriting. The camp had been started some two or three months previous to our arrival on November 14th, 1914, but it was in a terribly chaotic condition. German method and organisation recorded a dismal and complete failure here.

Having reached the grounds, and registration completed to the satisfaction of the authorities, we were marched off to our quarters. The party to which I was attached was escorted to a stable which was of the ordinary single floor type, characteristic of these islands, with a row of horse-boxes and a loft for the storage of hay and other impedimenta above. The horse-boxes measured ten feet square and had only been cleaned out perfunctorily. The raw manure was still clinging to the walls, while the stalls were wet from the straw which had been recently removed. Indeed in some stalls it had not been cleared out.

The atmosphere had that peculiarly pungent ammonia smell incidental to recently tenanted stables. The prisoners who were allotted to those stalls in which the wet straw still remained were compelled to lie down upon it so that they had a far from inviting or savoury couch. Yet there were many who preferred the unsalubrious and draughty stalls to the loft overhead, and prices for the former ruled high, as much as 100 marks--L5--being freely given for this accommodation. This speculation in the quarters for the prisoners constituted one of the greatest scandals of the camp during its early days, inasmuch as it acted unfairly against those who were "broke." Who pocketed this money we never learned, but there was a very shrewd suspicion that certain persons were far from being scrupulous and did not hesitate to pursue their usual shark tactics, even under such circumstances.

K---- and myself were compelled to shake ourselves down in the loft. It was reached by a creaking and crazy wooden staircase. Gaining the upper regions we nearly encountered disaster. The loft was practically void of natural illumination, the result being a kind of perpetual dismal gloom, which to us, coming out of the broad daylight, appeared to be darkness until our eyes grew accustomed to it.

The floor was of stone or concrete and in the centre of the space the height from floor to the highest point of the gable roof was about 7 feet, sloping to 4 feet 6 inches at the sides.

The authorities cannot be credited with being liberal in assigning us space. The roof rafters were spaced 10 feet apart and between each two of these five men had to shake down their beds. Thus each was given a space 2 feet in width by 6 feet in length in which to make himself at home and to stow his belongings. The quarters were so cramped that to dress and undress it was necessary to stand in the centre of the gangway which ran down the middle of the loft. Once in bed it was almost impossible to turn over. To make matters worse the roof was far from being watertight and when a heavy shower swept over us the water would trickle and drip through, while the slits in the wall allowed the wind to whistle and rush into the loft with ear-cutting force.

When we entered into possession the floor was perfectly bare, but we were given a miserable allowance of trusses of straw, each of which was divided up sparingly between so many men. This we threw loosely upon the floor to form a couch, but the allowance was so inadequate that no man could keep himself warm, because the cold from the stone drove through the thin covering, while it was quite out of the question to find comfort.

Only a few blankets were served out. I, myself, made eighteen distinct applications for one, but was denied the luxury, if such it can be called, until eleven months after my arrival at the camp. Had it not been for the generosity of K----, who freely gave me one of his blankets, coupled with one or two overcoats which I secured as a result of my trading operations in the camp, to which I refer later, I should have been compelled to face the bone-piercing, marrow-congealing wintry weather without the slightest covering beyond the clothes in which I stood. Those who, unlike me, were lacking a liberal friend, lay shivering, depending purely upon the warmth radiating from one another's bodies as they laid huddled in rows.

We protested against this lack of blankets to the United States Ambassador, time after time, but it was of little avail. The authorities persisted in their statements that a blanket had been served out to every man. In fact it was asserted in the British papers, as a result of the Ambassador's investigations, that each man had been served with two blankets. But for every man who did possess two blankets there were three prisoners who had not one! The authorities endeavoured to shuffle the responsibility for being without blankets upon the prisoners themselves, unblushingly stating that they had been careless in looking after them, had lost them, or had been so lax as to let them be stolen. If the Ambassador had only gone to the trouble to make a complete and personal canvass he would have probed the matter to the bottom. If a parade with blankets had been called, the German Government would have been fairly trapped in its deliberate lying.

About ten months after I entered the camp, blankets were purchasable at the camp stores. They cost us nine shillings apiece and they were not our exclusive property. When a prisoner received his release he was not permitted to take his blanket with him. Neither had it any surrender value. It had to be left behind. If the prisoner could find a purchaser for it he was at liberty to do so, but if no sale could be consummated then it had to be presented to a comrade. The blanket was not allowed to leave the camp because it contained a certain amount of wool!

The food supplied by the authorities did not vary very pronouncedly from what I had received in other camps, but if anything it was a trifle better, especially in the early days, when Germany was not feeling the pinch of the British blockade. For breakfast there was the eternal acorn coffee and a hunk of black bread. The mid-day repast comprised a soup contrived from potatoes, cabbage, and carrots with traces of meat. One strange mixture which the authorities were fond of serving out to us was a plate of rice and prunes garnished with a small sausage! I invariably traded the sausage with a comrade for prunes, this so-called German dainty not appealing to my palate in the slightest. After a while, however, this dish vanished from the limited menu. Tea was merely a repetition of the morning meal.

Our first emphatic protest was in connection with our sleeping accommodation in the loft. A representative came from the American Embassy and we introduced him forthwith to our sleeping quarters. We not only voiced our complaints but we demonstrated our inability to get warm at night owing to the cold floor striking through the straw. He agreed with us and ordered the authorities to provide us with sleeping arrangements somewhat more closely allied to civilized practice. The Germans obeyed the letter but not the spirit of the Representative's recommendations. They sent us in a few boards spaced an inch or two apart and nailed to thin cross battens. In this way our bodies were lifted about two inches off the floor!

The straw when served out to us was perfectly clean and fresh, but it did not retain this attractiveness for a very long time. The soil in the vicinity of Ruhleben is friable, the surface being a thick layer of fine sand in dry, and an evil-looking slush in wet, weather. As the prisoners when entering the barracks were unable to clean their boots, the mud was transferred to the straw. Not only did the straw thus become extremely dirty but the mud, upon drying, charged it heavily with dust. When a tired man threw himself down heavily upon his sorry couch he was enveloped for a few seconds in the cloud of dust which he sent from the straw into the air. Whenever we attempted to shake up our beds to make them slightly more comfortable, the darkness of the loft was rendered darker by the dense dust fog which was precipitated. Naturally violent coughing and sneezing attended these operations and the dust, being far from clean in itself, wrought fearful havoc with our lungs. I recall one prisoner who was in perfect health when he entered the camp, but within a few weeks he had contracted tuberculosis. He declined so rapidly as to arouse the apprehensions of the authorities, who hurriedly sent him home to Britain.

After lying upon this bare straw for three months we were given some coarse sacking and were peremptorily ordered to fill these bags with the straw. This task gave the sand and dust a spirited opportunity to penetrate our systems. Had a stranger outside the building heard our violent coughing he would have been pardoned had he construed our loft to be a hospital for consumptives.

We had been lying for quite six months upon this straw when we were suddenly paraded to receive the order to re-appear a quarter of an hour later with our beds. Re-parading we were commanded to empty the sacks to form a big pile, and it was a repulsive-looking accumulation. But we observed this straw was collected and carted away very carefully, although at the time we paid little attention to the incident.

Naturally we concluded that we were to be given a supply of new straw, and not before it was wanted. But we were not to be treated as milksops. We were marched off to the railway station where there was a quantity of wooden shavings which we were told to pack into our sacks. When we attacked the bundles we recoiled in horror. The material was reeking wet. The authorities might just as well have served us with soddened sponges.

What could be done? Visions of rheumatic fever and various other racking maladies arising from sleeping upon a wet bed haunted us. However, the day being fine we rapidly strewed the bedding material out in the hope that the sun would dry it somewhat. This precaution, however, was only partially successful. Our couches were damp that night.

We thought no more about the straw which we had been compelled to exchange for the shavings until we learned that a German newspaper was shrieking with wild enthusiasm about Teuton resourcefulness and science having scored another scintillating economic triumph. According to this newspaper an illustrious professor had discovered that straw possessed decidedly valuable nourishing qualities essential to human life, and that it was to be ground up and to enter into the constitution of the bread, which accordingly was now to be composed of at least three constituents--wheat-meal, potato flour, and straw. Some of us began to ponder long and hard over the straw which had so suddenly been taken away from us, especially myself, as I had experienced so many of the weird tactics which are pursued by the Germans in their vain efforts to maintain their game of bluff.

I asked every member of our party, in the event of discovering a foreign article in his bread, to hand it over to me because I had decided to become a collecting fiend of an unusual type. Contributions were speedily forthcoming, and they ranged over pieces of dirty straw, three to four inches in length, fragments of coke, pieces of tree-bark, and odds and ends of every description--in fact just the extraneous substances which penetrated into our loft with the mud clinging to our boots and which, of course, became associated with the loose straw. I cherished this collection, which by the time I secured my release had assumed somewhat impressive proportions. I left these relics in safe keeping near the border, and they will come into my hands upon the conclusion of the war if not before.

From these strange discoveries I was prompted to make inquisitive enquiries. I discreetly and in apparent idleness cross-questioned the guards and any other sources of information which were likely to prove fruitful. My interrogations were so seemingly innocent as to draw immediate and comprehensive replies. Stringing these fragments of information together, it was impossible to come to any conclusion other than that I had formed in my own mind, namely, that the straw upon which we had been lying for six months had been whisked off to the granary and had re-appeared among us in the guise of the staff of life! It was not conducive to our peace of mind to think we had probably been eating our beds!

During the early days, owing to the insufficiency of nutritious food, we were hard-pressed. There were no canteens, but presently these appeared and we were able to purchase further limited supplies of food, at an all but prohibitive price I might mention, because the rascally German speculators had paid heavily for the privilege of being able to fleece the British. When, at a later date, we received a weekly allowance of five shillings, the plight of everyone became eased materially, although, unfortunately, this sum went a very short way owing to the extortionate prices which prevailed.

One particularly atrocious scandal was associated with the arrival of some big crates of comforts sent out to us by one of the philanthropic missions at home. The local stores suddenly blossomed forth with a huge and extremely varied stock of wearing apparel--mufflers, socks, and other articles of which we were in urgent need. I, among others, did not hesitate to renew my wardrobe, which demanded replenishment, particularly as the prices appeared to be attractive. We were ignorant as to the origin of this stock, but it did not trouble our minds until my purchase of a pair of socks. This precipitated an uproar, because within one of the socks I found a small piece of paper on which was written, undoubtedly by the hand which had diligently knitted the article, "With love from----. To a poor British prisoner of war in Germany," followed by the name of the Mission to whom the articles had been sent, doubtless in response to an appeal.

This discovery revealed the maddening circumstance that what had been sent out to Ruhleben for free distribution among the prisoners was actually being sold. There was an enquiry which yielded a more or less convincing result according to one's point of view.

There was also an outcry over the crates in which these articles were sent to us. The party of which I was a member had removed from the loft to a horse-box beneath which had been vacated. When we entered this attractive residence the walls were still covered with manure--they were not given a dressing of whitewash until later--while lying upon the bare floor, with only a thin sack of doubtful shavings between us and the stone, did not heighten our spirits. But as we were becoming reconciled to our captivity, we decided to make our uninviting stall as homely as we could. We decided upon a wooden bed apiece. The authorities, after persistent worrying, only partially acceded to our demands by providing three primitive single beds for occupation by six men.

As we could not persuade the authorities to serve us with a bed apiece, we decided to build the three extra beds ourselves. But we were faced with the extreme difficulty of procuring the requisite wood! The authorities had none to give away and very little to sell. When we saw these empty packing cases, which were of huge dimensions, we thought luck had come our way at last, so we approached the proprietor of the stores for permission to break them up. But to our disgust he informed us that he had already parted with them--for a consideration we discovered afterwards. Two had been secured by a German sentry in the camp to be converted into wardrobes, while the others were in the hands of the camp carpenter. We approached this worthy, but he ridiculed the suggestion that he should give some of the wood to us for our intended purpose. We could buy the boards if we liked. As there was no alternative source of supply we did so, and the price of purchase showed that the carpenter cleared nine shillings on each crate! With much difficulty we built our three extra beds between us, but the outlay for materials alone was eighteen shillings!

The cold during the winter affected us very severely because the barrack was absolutely devoid of any heating facilities. When the snow was carpeting the ground to a depth of from six to eight inches, and the thermometer was hovering several degrees below zero we lay awake nearly the whole night shivering with cold. Indeed on more than one occasion, I with others, abandoned all attempts to sleep and trudged the loft to keep warm.

We appealed to the American Ambassador in the hope that he would be able to rectify matters. When he came upon the scene there was another outburst of indignation. He ordered the authorities to instal a heating system without further delay. By driving through our sole protector in this manner, we, as usual, received some measure of respite. But the heating was useless to those living in the horse-boxes. The side partitions of the latter were not carried up to the ceiling, but a space of some two feet was left. To protect ourselves from the fierce ear-cutting draught which swept through the stables we blocked these spaces with brown paper. But the means which somewhat combated the onslaughts of the draughts also shut out the heat, so that, in our case, and it was typical of others, we really did not benefit one iota from the "complete heating system" with which, so the German press asserted, Ruhleben Camp was lavishly equipped.

Christmas Day, 1914, was an unholy nightmare. Our fare could not, by any stretch of imagination, be described as Christmassy. We had several pro-Germans among us--they preached this gospel in the hope of being released if only on "passes," but the thoroughbred Prussian is not to be gulled by patriots made-to-order--and they kept up the spirit of Yule Tide with candles and what not, somewhat after the approved Teuton manner. It was impressive, but so palpably artificial and shallow as merely to court derision and mockery among the Britishers.

The great meal of the Day of Days was a huge joke! One barrack received what might be excusably described as something like a chop, with potatoes and gravy. The next barrack had a portion of a chop and potatoes, but no gravy. By the time this barrack had been served apparently all supplies had been exhausted, thanks to the wonderful perfection of German method, organisation, and management. The result was that a third barrack had to be content with a raw rasher of bacon, while a further barrack received only potatoes swimming in a liquid which was undoubtedly set down officially as gravy. But barrack six got nothing! This barrack is occupied by members of the Jewish persuasion, but only those who partook of Jewish food received anything to eat that day. The Jews generally fared better, because they were tended by the Rabbi, who indeed exerted himself untiringly upon their behalf. He drove into the camp every day in his motor car, accompanied by his wife, and they went diligently around the members of their flock, ascertaining the requirements of each man, and doing all in their power to satisfy him so far as the rules and regulations of the camp permitted. The Jews who supported their Rabbi had no complaint to offer on the score of food, because they received it in variety and plenty through the munificence of their co-religionists in Berlin.

In the evening we attempted a sing-song to keep up the spirit and atmosphere of the season as far as practicable within our modest limitations, but this was promptly suppressed by our task-masters. We were compelled to spend the evening in miserable silence or to crawl into bed to muse over our unhappy lot. So far as Ruhleben was concerned, the sentiment of "Good-will to all men" had sped by on the main line, and had forgotten all about us poor wretches in the siding.

While in Cologne on "passes" I and my friends frequently learned from the Berliner Tageblatt and other leading newspapers that the foremost artistes performing in Berlin paid visits to Ruhleben in the evening to amuse the prisoners. At that time we were somewhat prone to envy the good time our compatriots were evidently having at the internment camp and the bed of roses upon which, according to the press, they were lying. But when we entered the camp and made enquiries, we discovered that the newspaper assertions were not merely gross exaggerations, but unblushing fabrications.

To satisfy ourselves upon this point we went to the corner of the camp where the delightful entertainments were said to be given, but the only artistes we discovered were a dozen hungry prisoners trying to coax a tune out of a rebellious mouth organ! Our belief in German statements received another shattering blow. During my twelve months in this camp I never caught a glimpse of or heard a note from an eminent German impressario or artiste of any description. All the amusements we ever obtained were due to our own efforts, and I am glad to say that they evidently were vastly superior to any that the much-vaunted city could offer to its estimable citizens. At least this was the only impression we could gather from the statements of visitors who were occasionally permitted to attend our theatrical and vaudeville performances and concerts. We had nothing for which to thank the Germans in the way of diversion than we had in any other direction.