We were not kept in doubt as to our future for many minutes. We learned at the Polizei Prasidium that we were to be immured in Klingelputz prison. Many of our number were gathered there, having once been released on "pass," and from the circumstance that they were business men in practice and residence in Germany the confident belief prevailed that after re-registration all would be released. But we were speedily disappointed. All of us without the slightest discrimination were placed under restraint.

Directly we entered Klingelputz and had passed into the main building I could not restrain my curiosity. This penitentiary was vastly dissimilar from Wesel. It is a huge building not only covering a considerable tract of ground, but is several floors in height, thus providing cell accommodation for hundreds of prisoners.

But it was the method of securing the prisoners which compelled my instant attention. Ahead of me I saw what I first took to be an iron-railed barrier behind which a number of men were crowding as if to catch a glimpse of us. But to my astonishment I discovered, as I advanced, that this was not an iron barrier keeping back a curiosity-provoked crowd but the cells and their inmates. I was startled to hear frantic hails, "Mahoney! Mahoney! Hooray! Come on!"

I stepped forward to ascertain that I was being called by two or three compatriots whom I had left behind at Sennelager, but who had afterwards been released on "pass" and re-rounded up as aliens. I returned the greeting hilariously, upon which one of the British prisoners, who was remarkably agile, swarmed the bars, and poised thus above his comrades, was emulating the strange and amusing antics of a monkey at the Zoological Gardens, thereby conveying by his actions that he and his friends were caged after the manner of our simian prizes at home.

The cells were indeed cages, as I discovered upon closer inspection, and recalled nothing so much as parrot cages upon a large scale. All sides were barred in the self-same manner so that from any point one could see every corner of the cell and discover what the inmate or rather inmates were doing, because each cell was really six cells in one. The cage was rectangular in plan, each cell measuring about seven feet in length by three feet in width, and fairly high. But it was the internal arrangement of the cell which struck me. In plan it was set out something like the following:—



The middle gangway A not only served as the approach to the sub-divisions or cells B on either side, but also constituted the space occupied by the prisoners during the day. Each of the sub-divisions was large enough to receive a bed and nothing else. There was only sufficient space to stand beside the couch. Upon retiring for the night the prisoner was compelled to disrobe in the central space or gangway A, then, picking up his clothes he had to sidle round the door and climb over his bed to get into it. In the morning, upon rising, he either had to stand upon his bed to dress or to come out into the central gangway, the space beside his bed being scarcely sufficient to permit free movement.

Normally, I suppose, each cell or cage is designed to receive six prisoners, one to each sub-division, in which event circulation in the dividing open space would be possible. But the facilities of Klingelputz were so taxed at the time that every morning further prisoners were brought from the masonry cells below and locked in this open space for the day. The result was considerable overcrowding, there being no fewer than twenty-six men in one of the cages including some of our fellow-countrymen from Sennelager upon the day I entered. But the men from the latter camp happened to be some of the most irrepressible spirits among us. They considered it to be huge fun to swing and climb about the bars like monkeys, and their quaint antics and badinage kept their comrades buoyant.

While I made application to be put in one of these extraordinary cells, merely to experience the novelty, my four comrades expressed their sincere hope that we should meet with superior accommodation. In this we were not disappointed, if the quarters to which we were taken were capable of being called superior. We were escorted down flights of steps which appeared to lead to the very bowels of the State hotel. Finally we were ushered into a long subterranean apartment, which was really a cellar, and was evidently intended to house five prisoners at one time, seeing that there were this number of beds. Except for the fact that it was a cellar and very little light penetrated its walls, little fault could be found with it. Certainly it was scrupulously clean, for which we were devoutly thankful, while on the table an oil-lamp was burning.

Life at Klingelputz would have been tolerable but for one thing—the prison fare. At six o'clock we were served with a basin of acorn coffee and a small piece of black bread for breakfast. At twelve we were treated to a small dole of skilly, the most execrable food I have ever tasted even in a German prison camp. It was skilly in the fullest sense of the word. Whatever entered into its composition must have been used most sparingly; its nutritive value was absolutely negligible. At five in the afternoon we received another basin of the acorn coffee together with a small piece of black bread, and this had to keep us going for the next thirteen hours.

Fortunately the food which we had brought with us served as a valuable supplement to that provided by the State. It not only kept us alive but enabled us to maintain our condition. The old fellow who was our gaoler was tractable; indeed he was somewhat apologetic for having to look after such estimable gentlemen, an attitude which was doubtless due to the fact that he knew we should look after him! We endeavoured to see if he could supply a little more "liberty and fresh air" but the old warder shook his head sorrowfully.

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Lights had to be extinguished by nine o'clock, and it was the evening which taxed our endurance. We had to while away the hours as best we could. First we improvised an Indian band, using our basins as tom-toms and singing the most weird music. As a variety we dressed up in our blankets to resemble Red Indians and indulged in blood-curdling war-dances. Such measures for passing the time may sound extremely childish to readers, but it must be remembered that there was nothing else for us to do unless we were content to sit down with our chins in our hands, with the corners of our mouths drooping, and our faces wearing the expression of undertakers' mutes. Had we not participated in the admittedly infantile amusements we should have gone mad.

When we had demolished our food reserves and were utterly dependent upon the prison diet, we speedily began to betray signs of our captivity and deprivations. We petitioned for permission to purchase food from outside but this met with a curt refusal. Eventually the prison authorities relented and we were permitted to purchase our mid-day meal from a restaurant, for which privilege by the way we were mulcted very heavily.

During the day we were permitted to stretch our limbs in the exercise yard for about fifteen minutes. No steel-bound rules and regulations such as I had experienced at Wesel prevailed here. We were free to intermingle and to converse as we pleased. This relaxation was keenly anticipated and enjoyed because it gave us the opportunity to exchange reminiscences. We learned enough during this brief period to provide material for further topics of conversation. This, however, was the experience of our party. Others fared worse and were shut up in single cells in which, as I had previously done at Wesel, they were compelled to pace.

We only shared the large underground cell together at night because of its sleeping accommodation. We were shut in separate cells during the day, which prevented interchange of conversation and inter-amusement during the day except in the exercise yard. But solitary confinement was rare, and in the majority of cases we learned that the aliens were placed in small parties of four or five in a single cell. After a few days our party was swelled by five new arrivals from different parts of Germany. We were a cosmopolitan crowd, comprising every strata of society, from wealthy men down to stable lads. One boisterous spirit, a Cockney, confessed far and wide that he had once suffered imprisonment at home for horse-stealing, and he did not care a rap for anything or anybody. He was always bubbling over with exuberant merriment and was one of those who can project every situation into its relative humorous perspective. Another prisoner was an Englishman who had been resident in Germany for twenty-five years, and at the time of his arrest occupied a very prominent position in one of the foremost banking institutions.

This man felt his humiliation acutely. He paced his cell from morning to night, peevish and nervous, brooding deeply over what he considered to be an atrocity. He was a well-known man and on intimate terms with many of the foremost members of the Government and of the Services. He wrote to every man whom he thought capable of exerting powerful and irresistible influence upon his behalf, but without any tangible results. The fact that this man, apparently more Teuton, from his long residence and associations in the country, than British, had been thrown into prison brought home to us the thorough manner in which the Germans carried out their task of placing all aliens in safety. It was immaterial how prominent the position of the Britisher, his wealth, or his indispensability to the concern with which he was identified. Into prison he went when the general rounding up of enemies order was promulgated.

The Cockney who had been imprisoned for horse-stealing badgered this superior fellow-prisoner unmercifully. He was incessantly dwelling upon the man's descent from a position of comfort and ease to "quod" as he termed it. He would go up to the prisoner, pacing the exercise yard, and slapping him on the back would yap:

"Now then, old sport! Don't get so down in the mouth about it!"

The prisoner would venture some snappy retort.

"All right, Cocky! Crikey, you'd look mighty fine stuck up against a wall with half a dozen bloomin' Prussian rifles looking at yer. Blime if I don't believe you'd dodge the bullets by caving-in at the knees!"

A fierce look would be the response to such torment.

"Gawd's trewth! My fretful bumble-bee, I'd write to old Tight-Whiskers about it if I was you. Get 'im to come an' bail yer out!"

At first we wondered who the personality so irreverently described as "Tight-Whiskers" was, but subsequently we were enlightened. He was referring to Von Tirpitz, "Th' bloke wot looks arter th' Germin Navy!"

When the Cockney, who appeared to be downright proud of his ability to keep his "pecker up," found banter to be unproductive, he would assume a tone of extreme sympathetic feeling, but this was so obviously unreal as to be more productive of laughter than his outspoken sallies.

Once a week there was a sight from which, after my first experience, I was always glad to escape. On this day the prisoners were taken into the exercise yard to meet their wives and children. On these occasions when supplies of food were brought in, some very heart-rending scenes were witnessed, the little toddlers clinging to their fathers' coat-tails and childishly urging them to come home, while the women's eyes were wet and red.

The sanitary arrangements in Klingelputz were on a level with those of other prisons. Two commodes, with ill-fitting lids, sufficed for ten men, and in the underground apartment to which we were condemned, and of which the ventilation was very indifferent, the conditions became nauseating. To make matters worse the vile prison food precipitated an epidemic of acute diarrhoea and sickness, so that the atmosphere within the limited space became so unbearable as to provoke the facetious Cockney to declare that "'e could cut it with a knife," while he expressed his resolve "to ask th' gaoler for a nail to drive into it" to serve as a peg for his clothes! But it was no laughing matter, and we all grew apprehensive of being stricken down with some fearful malady brought on simply and purely by the primitive sanitary arrangements. Only once a day were the utensils subjected to a perfunctory cleansing, a job which was carried out by the criminals incarcerated in the prison.

These criminals would do anything for us. The first night they tapped at the door to our cellar, and, peeping through the cracks, we saw a number of these degraded specimens of German humanity in their night attire. They had heard who we were and begged for a cigarette. We passed two or three through the key-hole. The moment a cigarette got through there was a fearful din in the fight for its possession, culminating in a terrific crashing. The gaoler had appeared upon the scene! Quietness reigned for a few minutes, when they would stealthily return and whisper all sorts of yarns concerning the reasons for their imprisonment in order to wheedle further cigarettes from us.

We were "clinked" in Klingelputz, as the Cockney expressed it, on November 6, 1914, and were kept in a state of terrible suspense. At last one morning the prison officials entered and called out the name of the three managers of the large works at the village in which K—— resided, who had been imprisoned with us. My friend and I naturally expected that their order for release had arrived, and we waited expectantly for their return to congratulate them, since their release would be a happy augury for us. They returned shortly, laden with bulky parcels of food which had been sent to them, and we all sat down to a Gargantuan spread. But we had scarcely started the meal when the gaoler entered and calling our names, ordered us to follow him to the office. Here we had to answer to our names once more. Then the Governor, in a sonorous voice, went on:

"Gentlemen! You are free men. Passes will be re-issued to you, but you will have to go to the Polizei Prasidium to have the requisite papers prepared."

At this intelligence we became wildly excited. K—— had been anticipating such a development, but the process of deciding the issue had been protracted from the slow pace and roundabout journey which such matters have to take through the German Circumlocution Office. We started off to the Prasidium, escorted, strange to say, by the two officials who had arrested us at K——'s residence, and with whom my friend was now conversing gaily. As we passed the cages the English boys caught sight of me, and there were frantic yells of congratulation and good wishes upon our good fortune.

Reaching the Prasidium we were ushered into an outer room, the two officials proceeding into an inner room armed with our papers. While we were waiting K—— turned to me and remarked:

"I hope they'll get us fixed up jolly quickly. Those two officers told me that to-morrow all aliens are to be sent from Klingelputz to the internment camp at Ruhleben. If we get our 'passes' we shall dodge that excursion very neatly!"

While we were talking the two officials came out and hurriedly left the building. They did not glance at us, and from their bearing I surmised that something had gone wrong at the last minute. I turned to my friend.

"Did you notice those fellows' faces? They looked pretty solemn. I'll bet you something's in the wind, and it won't be to our advantage."

At that moment we were summoned into the inner office. The official called out our names, to which we answered, mine being the last.

"Ach! Ma-hone-i!" he exclaimed, "Englische Spion! Eh?"

I acknowledged the accusation. Although I was fully accustomed to the repetition of these words by now, since they were hurled at me at every turn, they were beginning to become somewhat irksome. Upon each occasion when the interrogation was flung out for the first time by a new official, it was delivered with a strange and jarring jerk.

"Well, you were to be free on 'passes,' but the papers are not in order. They have been sent from the wrong place. They should have come from Coblentz. So they will have to be returned to be dispatched through the correct channel!"

How we cursed that German Circumlocution Office and this latest expression of Teuton organisation. The papers were correct, but because they had happened to come from the wrong office they were to be sent back to be re-dispatched from Coblentz, although they would not suffer the slightest alteration or addition in the process. Prussian red-tape was going crazy with a vengeance.

We were escorted to a cell in the basement of the Prasidium. Were we going to be kept here until the papers came to hand again? However, seeing that the trip would take some days, this was scarcely likely unless something extraordinary supervened. While we were discussing this latest and totally unexpected denouement we heard the low rumbling of heavy wheels. K—— cocked his ears with an acute tension.

"Hark!" he blurted out. "Damn it all, Mahoney, that's the 'Black Maria!' We are going back to Klingelputz or somewhere else!"

It was indeed the Teuton "Black Maria," and we were hurried upstairs to be tumbled into it. It was a dismal vehicle, there being barely sufficient space to accommodate our party, which had been further encumbered by two German demi-mondaines, who had been arrested for some infraction of the German law as it affected their peculiar interests. We were so tightly packed that we had to stand sideways, and I amused myself by working out the allowance of air space per person. It averaged about fourteen cubic inches!

We rumbled into the courtyard at Klingelputz, dejected and somewhat ill of temper at our disappointment. We were worrying because apparently the alien prisoners were to be dispatched to Ruhleben on the morrow. Unless we received our "passes" in time the chances were a thousand to one that we should be doomed to the self-same camp.

As we re-entered the prison we were greeted with a deafening yell. It came from the caged British prisoners.

"Hullo, boys! What cheer, Mahoney!" they shrieked. "Have they dished you again? Thought you were going home? Well, we're mighty pleased to see you back at the 'Zoo'!" and there was another wild exhibition of simian acrobatics upon the bars for our especial amusement.

But I had become so inured to the juggling tactics of Prussian officialdom that I was far from showing my inner feelings of chagrin. I entered into their banter as energetically, and with a parting "See you to-morrow, boys!" vanished down the steps with their frantic hails ringing in my ears.

The following morning we were marshalled, and as K—— had been dreading, the worst had happened. We were consigned "British Prisoners of War for internment at Ruhleben!" Home was now farther from me than ever!



PRISON FOUR—RUHLEBEN



CHAPTER XVIII

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!

[*large gap]

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.



CHAPTER XIX

ORGANISING THE COMMUNAL CITY OF RUHLEBEN

When I reached the internment camp it was in a wildly chaotic condition. Every semblance of management was conspicuous by its absence, while the German authorities never lifted a finger or uttered a single word towards straightening things out. Some of the enlightened spirits among us maintained that the Germans would not assist us, but it is my firm impression that they could not: it was a problem beyond their capacities. Such a state of affairs seems remarkable when one recalls how persistently the Teuton flaunts his vaunted skill in organisation, scientific management and method before the world at large. As a matter of fact it is only when one secures a position behind the scenes in Germany, to come into close contact with the Hun as he really is, when he has been stripped of the mask and veneer which he assumes for parade and to impress his visitors, that the hollowness of the Teuton pretensions is laid bare in all its ghastly nakedness.

The result in Ruhleben camp was terrible. It was every man for himself and the Devil take the hindmost. If one, in desperation, approached the authorities for a word of suggestion to improve this or that, officialdom merely shrugged its shoulders and candidly admitted impotence to recommend a remedy. So we had to depend essentially upon our own exertions and initiative.

Each barrack elected a captain, whose position was somewhat analogous to that of the Governor of a State, while over the camp as a whole reigned a super-captain. Seeing that there were several thousand prisoners at the time of my arrival on November 12, 1914, accommodated in twelve barracks, which presented a ghastly exhibition of congestion, and that neither law nor order, except as interpreted and maintained by the rifle and the bayonet of the unscrupulous German sentries, prevailed, the necessity to turn the colony inside out and to inaugurate some form of systematic control and operation was only too obvious.

In the early days we were entirely dependent upon the authorities for our food supplies, and they were invariably inadequate, while still more often the victuals were disgustingly deficient in appetising qualities. There were no facilities whatever for supplementing the official rations by purchases from a canteen such as we had enjoyed for a time at Sennelager. At last a German frau, animated by desire to improve the shining hour at the expense of the interned civilians, opened a small booth where some extras such as we so urgently desired could be procured. This booth, about as large as the bathing machine common to our seaside resorts, was situate in the centre of the camp. The diminutive dimensions of the "shop" prevented the woman carrying extensive stocks, and, as a rule she was cleared right out before mid-day. Her specialities were sweets, fruit, canned foods, herrings, and such like, but in extremely limited quantities.

This shop became known throughout the colony as the "Pond-side" stores, and the nickname was apt. Why, constitutes a little story in itself. It virtually occupied the centre of the main thoroughfare, and certainly became the busiest corner in the community. But at this point the land made a sudden dip. Consequently, when we were visited by rainstorms, and it does rain in Germany, rendering a British torrential downpour a Scotch mist by comparison, the rain water, unable to escape, gathered in this depression, forming a respectable pond, with the booth or stores standing, a dejected island, in the middle.

If the storm were unduly heavy this pond assumed imposing dimensions. One day I decided to measure it, so arming myself with a foot-rule I waded deliberately through its length and width with my crude measuring device to find that it was 133-1/2 feet long by 25 feet wide, and ranged from 6 inches to 2-1/2 feet in depth. While engaged in this occupation I was surprised by an officer, who, catching sight of my rule, sharply demanded what I was doing? I told him frankly, and there was a lively breeze between us.

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Naturally one will ask how it was that such a pond could form in the heart of the camp. To the British mind, saturated as it is with blind faith in German superior abilities in every ramification of human endeavour, it may seem incomprehensible, and the formation of the lake may be charitably attributed to the rain-water drainage system becoming choked, thus effectively preventing the escape of the water. But there was no drain to cope with this water, and what is more to the point the nuisance was never overcome until the British prisoners themselves took the matter in hand.

When the water was lying in this depression a trip to the Stores became an adventure. To obviate the necessity of wading through the noisome water we secured a plank gangway upon boxes and barrels. The pathway thus formed was only a few inches in width and precarious. The gangway ran out from one bank to the stores, thence on to the opposite bank, so that it was possible for the men to pass to the shop and to dry land in single file. If one were at the extreme end of the queue one might confidently expect to wait from two to three hours before reaching the shop, only then to be disappointed because it had been cleared out of everything edible.

When the water was up, the German frau, acting as shopkeeper, would perch herself on a box or barrel with the murky fluid swishing and snarling around her, because her stores always suffered inundation at such times. Walking the plank to make a purchase was highly exciting and mildly diverting. No little effort was required to maintain one's balance, while time after time the crazy foundations, as represented by the boxes and barrels, would give way, precipitating a long string of patient customers into the dirty water.

The inadequacy of these stores was felt very severely. At last, after a short and determined deliberation, it was resolved to run the colony upon communal lines. This was the only feasible form of control in order to protect the prisoners against scandalous robbery, extortionate prices, and to ensure a sufficiency of the essentials which were in such urgent demand. A simple, although comprehensive form of civic government was drawn up, involving the formation of educational facilities, a police force, a fire brigade, the establishment and maintenance of shops and canteens, all of which were operated by the community for the benefit of the community, the receipts being pooled in the camp treasury.

Such a system was absolutely imperative. Some of the prisoners were without money and were denied the receipt of contributions from home, their relatives and friends doubtless being too poor to help them. Naturally these luckless prisoners were speedily reduced to extremely straitened circumstances and distress among them became very acute. Furthermore parcels of clothing and other articles were being sent in bulk, addressed merely to the camp as a whole, instead of to individuals, the objects of the senders being the fair and equitable distribution of the articles among the prisoners indiscriminately. The handling of these supplies led to frequent and unblushing abuses, the men who were not in need of such contributions receiving them at the expense of those who sorely wanted them.

After our civic government had been reduced to practical application and was working smoothly, the task of distributing these unaddressed bulk supplies was entrusted to the captains of the barracks. The captain was selected for this responsibility because he knew all the deserving cases in his own party and was able to see they received the alleviation of their distress. When a crate of goods came in the captain compiled a list setting out the names and precise needs of every man in his party. If you were in a position to do so you were expected to pay a small sum for the articles, the price thereof being fixed, although you were at liberty to pay more if you felt disposed. This money was paid into the camp treasury. But if you were "broke," no money was expected. Consequently every man was certain to secure something of what he needed, irrespective of his financial circumstances.

The camp government also embarked upon trading operations. Shops were erected, one or two at a time, until at last we had a row of emporiums. The requisite material was bought from the Germans or from home with money drawn from the camp treasury. It must not be forgotten that the Teuton authorities resolutely refused to supply us with a single thing, declined to participate in any improvements, and refused to contribute a penny to defray the cost of any enterprise which was considered imperative to ameliorate our conditions. Indeed they robbed us right and left, as I will narrate later. By building shops in this manner we were able to boast a Bond Street, from which in a short time radiated other thoroughfares which were similarly christened after the fashionable streets of London—we had a strange penchant for the West-End when it came to naming our streets. The result is that to-day Ruhleben can point to its Fleet Street, its Trafalgar Square, and so on.

Goods were purchased for the various departments according to the specialities of the shops—boots for the bootshop, clothes for the clothiers and groceries for the provision stores. The communal government selected competent men to take charge of these establishments at a weekly salary of five shillings. Every shop in the camp, with the exception of a very few, such as mine in which I specialised in engraving, the ticket-writers and so forth, belonged to the community and were run by the community for the benefit of the community. No prisoner was permitted to launch out upon his own account as a shopkeeper if he intended to deal in a necessity. Only those trades which involved no stock or might be described as luxuries were permitted to be under individual management for individual profit.

As the inter-trading in the camp developed we were able to purchase large stocks of essentials, and it was astonishing to observe the prosperity with which our trading endeavours flourished. Great Britain has always been contemptuously described by our commercial rivals as a nation of shop-keepers, and in Ruhleben Camp we offered our German authorities, right under their very noses, the most powerful illustration of this national characteristic, and brought home to them very conclusively the fact that our national trait is no empty claim. Thousands of pounds sterling were passed over the counters every week.

While the shops dealt only in what might be termed necessities for our welfare, we were able to procure almost any article we desired. A "Special Order Department" was created to which we took our orders for special articles not stocked in the camp. If the order, upon scrutiny by the authorities, was deemed to be reasonable and did not infringe the prohibited list, the arrival of the goods in due course was certain.

The value of this system of managing the colony may be illustrated from one example, typical of many, which reflects credit upon the captains and civic organising committee. Butter was a luxury and could not be purchased in the camp for less than 3s. 2d. per pound. Yet this figure was decidedly below that ruling in the shops of Berlin for this article of food. Under these circumstances one might wonder how we were able to sell butter at a cheaper figure than the native tradesmen, and readers might be disposed to entertain the opinion that here, at all events, we did receive a valuable concession from the German authorities. But it was no such thing. The camp treasury secured a quotation for butter and at once realised that the terms were far too high for the prisoners as a whole. Consequently they decided to place this and margarine upon sale at attractive and possible prices. The purchasing department was allotted a certain figure for purchasing, but as this was insufficient the difference in the prime cost was taken from the common fund. Hence we never paid more than 3s. 2d. per pound retail in the camp, although the price was soaring in Berlin, so long as the article was obtainable. This division of the cost between the communal shop and the common fund brought butter within the reach of those who otherwise would have had to be content with dry bread, because very few of us could have afforded the luxury had Berlin prices prevailed in Ruhleben. Incidentally the price of butter serves to convey a tangible idea of the economic conditions reached in Germany and that within nine months of the outbreak of hostilities!

When the prisoners discovered that they could obtain the majority of things which serve to make life bearable even under depressing and oppressive conditions they commenced to launch out in the acquisition of things for improving creature comfort. With the money drawn from the banks and other institutions they purchased beds, cupboards, utensils, electric reading lamps, clothes, and what not to render their living quarters attractive and to improve their personal appearance and conditions. This extra work threw a heavy strain upon the clerical department which, within a short time, demanded organisation. The position of auditor was assumed by J——, who gathered a competent staff, and they worked like Trojans on behalf of the camp. Many times, while on night patrol as a policeman, I found J—— and his assistants burning the midnight oil at 1 a.m., straightening out the accounts and posting the books of the treasury. He and his staff deserve the greatest credit for the high-spirited manner in which and the hours they worked on behalf of their fellow-prisoners.

The shop-keeping industry received a decided impetus when the British Emergency Relief Fund was inaugurated. Under this scheme, five shillings per week were paid regularly through the American Embassy to all prisoners who were in need of financial assistance.

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Notwithstanding the elaborate precautions which had been brought into operation to ensure that this relief should get only into deserving hands, the fact remains that up to the day of my departure it was being paid directly into the pockets of some of our enemies. The scheme had been brought into operation some little while, when one morning, upon parade, the authorities requested all those who sympathised with the German cause to step out. Many, doubtless thinking that here was the opportunity to secure preferential treatment or the golden chance to obtain release from the Prison Camp of Abandoned Hope, answered the call. The numbers were appreciable, but as they advanced from the lines they were assailed by vicious hooting, groaning and hissing from the others who were resolved to maintain their patriotism at all hazards. Still it was an excellent move upon the part of the Germans. It eliminated dangerous enemies from our midst.

But if the pro-Germans, now chuckling merrily and rubbing their hands with childish delight, considered their release to be imminent they received a very rude awakening. The German authorities are not readily gulled. To them a pro-German is every whit as dangerous as an avowed enemy. They merely marched these traitors to another part of the camp where they were forced to re-establish themselves in their own isolated barrack quarters. They received no improvement in treatment or food. The only difference between the two divisions of what is now described as the "split camp" is that whereas the true Britishers are free to sing "Rule, Britannia," "God Save the King," and other patriotic songs, the traitors have to while away their time singing "Die Wacht am Rhein," "Deutschland Uber Alles," and other German jingo melodies.

The position of the traitors became aggravated a little later, when they learned that the German authorities were quite ready to release them upon one simple condition—that they joined the German Army! I am ashamed to say that some of them even took advantage of this infamous avenue of escape. But the majority, after their dropped jaws and long faces resumed their normal positions, thought they might just as well change their national coat once more.

Some of these scoundrels, after openly enlisting under the German banner, did not disavow their pension but coolly continued to draw the five shillings per week. Moreover, in one instance at least, one of these scapegoats after declaring his pro-German proclivities was enabled to return to England as an exchanged prisoner. I could reveal unpalatable truths concerning the laxity of our authorities in dealing with the exchange of prisoners, but the moment is not opportune.

One day one of these renegades came to my booth to have some engraving carried out. He asked me a price and I quoted half a crown. To my surprise he urged me to make it five shillings. Somewhat astonished I suggested that the work was not worth five shillings and that my estimate was perfectly fair.

"Oh, it doesn't matter," he replied, laughing gaily. "I draw five shillings from the British Prisoners' Relief Fund, which I never spend because I don't want it, and one week's draw might just as well pay for this job!"

I was so exasperated by this cool confession from the "P.-G."—our colloquialism for a pro-German—that I whipped round my bench and confronted the amiable traitor. We commenced to argue, I told him what I thought about him, words grew hot and soon the fur commenced to fly. He landed out at me and then I pitched into him unmercifully. It was useless for him to appeal for help. We knew every "P.-G." among us and he was now fairly in the hands of the Philistines. My colleagues merely gathered round, jeering and cheering like mad as I got some stinging blows home. The renegade subsequently slunk off rather badly battered, only to act quite up to his traitorous principles. After being thrashed in fair fight he crawled off to one of the German officers to whom he explained in a wheedling, piteous voice that he had been assaulted and went in fear of his life.

The officer came over to me and accused me of fighting. I explained the whole circumstances, emphasising the fact that the sneaking, drivelling humbug was drawing five shillings from the British Pension Fund and yet was parading and voicing his anti-British sentiments far and wide, when there were many admitted and honourable British prisoners walking about and in greater need of the money. The officer was evidently impressed with my point of view and undoubtedly concurred in my contention that my attitude was perfectly justified.

At all events he unostentatiously and unconsciously betrayed his opinion of a pro-German. He never uttered a word of reprimand to me; the discomfited "P.-G." was advised to make himself scarce; and although I had been guilty of the grave offence of fighting I never heard another word about the incident. It is evident that the officer in his own mind concluded that the less he said about the episode the better. Still I had got satisfaction. I had given one of our enemies a drubbing which he would not forget in a hurry.

Yet the one fact remains. At the time I left the camp there were several of these whimpering, cold-footed, British Judas Iscariots still drawing unblushingly their five shillings per week! I might add that this constituted one of the greatest scandals of the camp, and precipitated a feeling of smouldering rebellion, not against the German authorities, but against the traitors who did not refrain from attempting to fraternise with us after the diabolical repudiation of their nationality. It was fortunate these back-boneless, long-faced and drooping-mouthed Britons were forced to live away from us; otherwise I am afraid there would have been some tragedies and endless fighting.

Another rule of the camp somewhat grated upon our nerves. We opened several canteens which we stocked with our own goods, and operated upon communal lines so that the prisoners might secure ample food-stuffs. Naturally these articles were sold to the men at the lowest possible prices. But to our dismay we learned afterwards that they might have been sold at a lower figure had the German military not demanded a commission, or perhaps it should be called a "royalty" upon the turnover of 7-1/2 per cent.! This applied equally to the "Special Order Department," and I am afraid, if the subject were probed to the bottom, it would be found that every article sold in Ruhleben—fully ninety per cent. of which probably would be construed as articles saleable from the canteen if shops were unavailable—contributes its toll of seven-and-a-half per cent. to the German authorities. When one recalls the thousands sterling which pass through the shops and canteens during the course of the week, the German officials must have derived a handsome revenue from this iniquitous practice. If all the camps were mulcted in the manner of Ruhleben, looking after the British prisoners must be an extremely lucrative occupation.

This scandalous impost hit us at every turn. It meant that we had to pay for every article and through the nose at that. For instance, the Camp Committee laid down a house equipped with four large boilers to supply boiling water, which we had to fetch, and with which we were able to brew beverages and soups in the secrecy of our barracks. We purchased this convenience, of which the Germans took a proportion, so that we really paid a prohibitive price for the water which we consumed! The supply of hot water, no matter for what purpose, was construed by the Germans as coming within the business of the canteen! Shower baths were also introduced, the cost being defrayed out of the camp treasury. I wonder if the British authorities follow a similar practice among the German internment camps in this country? It is an excellent method of making the prisoner pay for his own board and lodging.

The educational classes proved a complete success. Almost every language under the sun could be heard among the prisoners. The classes were absolutely free, of course, although you could contribute something, if you desired. Individual tuition was given, but in this instance the tutors were free to levy fees. The mastery of languages became one of the most popular occupations to pass the time. I myself had a class of dusky members of the British Empire, drawn from various Colonies, and speaking as many dialects, to whom I undertook to teach English, reading, writing, drawing, and other subjects. At the time the class was formed, they could only muster a few English words, conducting conversation for the most part by signs and indifferent German. But my pupils proved apt and industrious, and by the time I left they had mastered our tongue very effectively, as the many letters they sent me, before leaving Ruhleben, striving to thank me for what I had done, testify.

Camp life was not without its humour. Around the boiler-house stretched a large wooden hoarding which served as a notice-board. Every day there were posted the names of prisoners, set out in alphabetical order, for whom parcels had arrived. The remaining space was covered with advertisements of a widely varied order. The humour unconsciously displayed upon that board probably has never been equalled in the pages of a humorous journal yet printed. It is impossible to narrate every quaint announcement as they were so prolific, but I have never forgotten some of them. One I recall was an advertisement of a tutor setting forth his terms for teaching English. But only one word in the announcement was spelled correctly! Another, posted by a sailor, ran, "Talking Parrot for Sale. Guaranteed not to swear!" It remained up for three days and apparently there was nothing doing. Such an article was evidently a drug upon the Ruhleben market. After the bird prisoner had been in the camp a while the advertisement re-appeared, but the word "not" was blotted out! The advertisement disappeared almost instantly, which led one to surmise that someone had purchased Polly to repeat Ruhleben conversation at a later date, beside the fireside of an Englishman's home, as a reminder of the times and the vernacular of a German prison camp.

The various reports which have been published in the German and British newspapers from time to time, relative to life at Ruhleben, have dwelt at length upon the social amenities of that imposing colony. People at home have read about the tennis courts, our football field, the theatre, and other forms of recreation. Possibly they think that the Germans have been very generous and sympathetic in this direction at least. But have they? For the use of a section of the cinder track to serve as tennis courts the German authorities demanded and received L50! We paid them another L50 for the football field, while for the use of the hall under the Grand Stand which had never been used since the outbreak of war, and which we converted into a theatre, we were forced to hand over a third L50. The camp treasury met these demands, and probably an examination of the books would reveal many other disbursements of a similar character for other facilities. The Germans have never spent a penny on our behalf, and have never given us anything.

When the camp is broken up and the prisoners are released, there will be a pretty problem for some person to unravel. By now Ruhleben has the appearance of a healthy and thriving little town. The prisoners have toiled unceasingly to improve their surroundings. When we entered into occupation of our horse-box, its solitary appointment was the manger. We needed a shelf, and had to pay heavily for the wood. As time went on our ingenuity found expression in many other ways. We made tables, chairs, wardrobes, sideboards, and other furniture. In some instances these embellishments were purchased from German firms. The result is that to-day some of the quarters are as attractive and as comfortable as a flat. When the camp is broken up these articles will have to be left behind. Although under the hammer prices will and must rule low, in the aggregate many thousands of pounds will be realised. What is to be done with this money? Who is to have it? Scores of buildings have been erected with money drawn from the common fund. Is any compensation going to be paid by the German authorities for the fruits of our labour and ingenuity which will fall into their hands? We have paid for all the materials used out of our own pockets, and the work carried out upon these lines already represents an expenditure of tens of thousands sterling. Are the prisoners to lose all that?

The community is run upon the most rigid business-like lines. Nothing is given away at Ruhleben. This explains how we have built up such a wealthy camp treasury. The Camp Authorities govern the concerts, theatrical and vaudeville entertainments, troupes, band, newspapers, programmes—in short everything. Individual enterprise has but a negligible scope in Ruhleben. The initial outlays have admittedly been heavy, but the receipts have been still larger, so that there must be a big balance somewhere. It has not all been spent, and the question arises as to what will be done with the accumulated funds.

To convey some idea of the possible and profitable sources of income it is only necessary to explain the system of handling the prisoners' parcels. These are sorted in a large building. I learned that a parcel was waiting for me by perusing the notice-board. I presented myself at the office window to receive a ticket which I exchanged for the parcel, the ticket serving as a receipt for due delivery. But the ticket cost me one penny! Seeing that the average number of parcels cleared every day is 3,000, it will be seen that the sale of the necessary tickets alone yields roughly L12 per day or over L4,000 a year. Recently the price of the ticket has been reduced fifty per cent., but even at one halfpenny the annual income exceeds L2,000. This one branch of business must show a handsome profit, and there are scores of other prosperous money-yielding propositions in practice in the camp.

No matter how spendthrift the treasury may be the accumulated funds must now represent an imposing figure, because, with only one or two exceptions, everything is run at a profit. Will the camp treasury carry the precepts of communal trading to the logical conclusion? Will it distribute the accumulated funds among the prisoners, pro rata according to the term of imprisonment, at the end of the war? If that is done it will serve as some compensation for the break-up of homes in Britain and other countries which has taken place, because those who were left behind were deprived—through no fault of aught but the German authorities and their ridiculous regulations—of their wage-earners.

As the result of frequent representations the German authorities permitted us to inaugurate our civil police force for the maintenance of law and order throughout the camp. After this force came into being and had proved satisfactory, the military guards were withdrawn, and we were encircled only by the cordon of sentries outside. We suffered no military interference whatever. The force, of which I became a member, numbered forty all told. Our badge of office was an armlet—blue and white bands similar to that worn by the British constabulary, and carried upon the left wrist over our private clothes—together with a button inscribed "Police. Ruhleben Camp." The selection of the police force was carried out upon extremely rigorous lines to ensure that only the most capable men were secured for this exacting duty. We patrolled the camp night and day, the duty under the former conditions being two hours, at the conclusion of which we reported ourselves to the police station, and then proceeded to our barracks to rest, waking up our successor on the way, who thereupon went on duty.

All things considered the camp was extremely well-behaved, the British naturally being amenable to discipline. One or two thefts occurred, the offenders, when caught, being handed over to the German authorities to receive punishment. At times there were manifestations of rowdiness, but they were speedily and readily quelled. The police required to be unconscionably patient, tactful, and sympathetic, because we were all chafing under restraint, and our nerves were strained, while tempers were hasty. Indeed, the German authorities marvelled at the manner and the ease with which we kept the camp upon its best behaviour, and I think we taught them many valuable lessons concerning the enforcement of law and order without the parade of any force or badgering, judging from the assiduity with which they studied our methods. Even the "drunks"—and they were not strangers to Ruhleben, despite the fact that alcoholic liquor was religiously taboo, the liquor being smuggled in and paid heavily for, a bottle of Red Seal costing fifteen shillings—never gave us the slightest cause for anxiety.

One day there was a serious explosion of discontent. We had been served at our mid-day meal with a basin of evil-looking skilly. We took it back, and protested that we ought not to be served with prison fare.

"Skilly?" repeated the cook. "That isn't skilly. It's Quaker Oats."

"'Strewth!" yapped a sailor, "That's the bloomin' funniest Quaker Oats I've tasted. Quaker Oats will keep you alive, but that bloomin' muck 'd poison a rat!" saying which he disdainfully emptied the noisome contents of his basin upon the ground.

We were told we should get nothing else, which infuriated us. We gathered round the cook-house, and the discontented, grumbling sailors and fishermen, unable to make any impression by word of mouth, commenced to bombard the kitchen with bricks, stones, and clods of earth. The fusillade grew furious, and the cat-calls vociferous.

The turmoil had been raging for some time when a mounted officer dashed up. Securing silence he ordered us all into barracks. There was an ominous growl. Then he told us he had brought a battalion of soldiers and a machine gun section from Spandau, and if we did not disperse in five minutes he would fire on us.

We looked round, thinking he was bluffing, but there, sure enough, were the soldiers with their rifles ready, and we discovered afterwards that the machine guns had been brought up to the gates ready for use at a moment's notice. We shuffled for a few minutes, frowning, glowering, mumbling, cursing and swearing, but as the Germans always mean what they say, we sullenly moved off as ordered. Still the protest bore fruit; no further attempts were made to serve us with that fare.

The highways of the camp were in a deplorable condition. They were merely tracks trodden down by our feet and carts, heavily rutted, uneven, and either a slough of mud and water, or a desert of dust, according to the weather. We persistently urged the German authorities to improve these roads, but they turned a deaf ear to all our entreaties.

At last the Camp Authorities decided to carry out the work themselves. There was a call for labourers, who were promised a steady wage of five shillings per week. Although enrolled in the first instance to build roads, this force was afterwards kept on as a working gang to carry out any jobs which became necessary. These men laid out and built an excellent road system, following the well-accepted British lines with a high camber and a hard surface so that the water could run into the gutters.

These roads aroused intense interest among our captors. They used to come in and follow the men at work, studying the method of building up the fabric, and upon its completion they inspected and subjected it to tests. A little later they coolly sent in a request to the road-builders to go outside to continue urgent work of a similar character. However, investigation revealed the disconcerting fact that these men were required to take the places of those Germans generally associated with this task, who had been called up for service at the front. Needless to say the suggestion met with a unanimous and determined refusal.

As time went on our conditions became worse. Bread became unobtainable at almost any price. Pathetic advertisements commenced to steal upon the notice-board, some of which I vividly remember. One in particular revealed a poignant story of silent suffering. It ran "Good Swan Fountain Pen. Will exchange for loaf of bread." Yet it was only typical of scores of others couched in a similar vein. All sorts of things were offered in exchange for food. Our treasury redoubled its efforts, but food could not be got even at famine prices. This was early in March, 1915, so that the country was speedily being compelled to concede the strangling force of the British blockade.

One morning we were paraded, and every man was ordered to produce any bread he might have in his possession. Some of us had been storing the official rations against the rainy day which we felt must come sooner or later. This had to be surrendered. The guards also carried out a thorough search to assure themselves that none had been left behind or concealed under beds. When the bread had been collected the authorities calmly cut it up and served us with a small piece each—that is they gave us back a portion of what was already our property, and which we had not eaten merely because we had been making ourselves content with purchases from the canteens.

This proceeding brought home to us the vivid prospect of being reduced to a perilous position within a very short time. So in our letters home we emphasised the need to send us bread and other food-stuffs. As about three weeks elapsed before we received a loaf after it had been dispatched, we kept it another week, then soaked it in water and took it to the cook-house to be re-baked, for which we were charged one penny.

Some of the unfortunate members of the party had no bread come from home. But with true camaraderie those prisoners who were in the land of plenty invariably divided their prizes, so that one and all were reduced to a common level. In this way considerable misery and discontent were averted. Of course, when stocks ran out, we had to revert to the official rations. Here and there would be found a few hard-hearted and unsympathetic gluttons. They would never share a single thing with a comrade. A prisoner of this type would sit down to a gorgeous feast upon dainties sent from home, heedless of the envious and wistful glances of his colleagues who were sitting around him at the table with nothing beyond the black bread and the acorn coffee. He would never even proffer a spoonful of jam which would have enabled the revolting black bread to be swallowed with greater relish.

There is one prisoner of this type whom I particularly recall. He had plenty of money in his pockets, and was the lucky recipient of many bulky hampers at regular intervals. Yet he never shared a crust with a less fortunate chum. But this individual did not refuse the opportunity to trade upon the hospitality of a fellow-prisoner when he himself was in a tight place. He became the most detested man in the camp, and to this day, with the rest of his selfish ilk, he suffers a rigid boycott, and at the same time is the target of every practical joke which his colleagues can devise. To quote the vernacular, we had "Some jokes with him," and often stung him to fury, when we would laugh mercilessly at his discomfiture.

At the time I left the camp the outlook had assumed a very black aspect, and now we hear things have reached a climax. Money is worse than useless now because it can purchase nothing. The prisoners are reduced to subsist upon what meagre rations the authorities choose to dole out to them, and essentially upon what they receive from home. Starvation confronts our compatriots suffering durance vile in Ruhleben. The dawn of each succeeding day is coming to be dreaded with a fear which baffles description because it is unfathomable.



CHAPTER XX

HOW I MADE MONEY IN RUHLEBEN CAMP

The aimless life, such as it was generally pursued in Ruhleben Camp, became exceedingly distasteful to me. It conduced to brooding and moping over things at home, to fretting and becoming anxious as to how one's wife and family were faring? While recreation offered a certain amount of distraction, it speedily lost its novelty and began to pall. There were many of us who were by no means sufficiently flush in pocket to indulge wildly in amusements, and yet money was absolutely indispensable, because with the sinews of war we were able to secure supplementary food from the canteen.

Some of the methods which were practised to improve the shining hour were distinctly novel. There was a young Cockney who, upon his return home, will undoubtedly blossom into a money-making genius, that is if his achievements in Ruhleben offer any reliable index to his proclivities. He would gather a party of seventy or eighty prisoners round him. Then, producing a five-mark piece, he would offer to raffle it at ten pfennigs—one penny—apiece. The possibility of picking up five shillings for a penny made an irresistibly fascinating appeal. It struck the traditional sporting chord of the British character and a shower of pennies burst forth. The deal was soon completed, and everyone was content with the result. Someone bought the five-shilling piece for the nimble penny, while the Cockney chuckled with delight because he had raked in some seven shillings or so for his five mark piece!

When I decided to experiment in commerce I was in some doubt as to what would offer the most promising line. After due reflection I decided to start as a launderer, specialising in washing shirts at ten pfennigs, or one penny, apiece. A shirt dresser was certainly in request because the majority of the prisoners, possessing only a severely limited stock, were compelled to wear the one garment continuously for several weeks. At the end of that time it was generally discarded once and for all. But the shirts I found to be extremely soiled, and demanded such hard and prolonged scrubbing, in which operation an unconscionably large amount of soap was consumed, that I found the enterprise to be absolutely unprofitable, while I received little else than a stiff, sore back and soft hands. So this first venture, after bringing in a few hard-earned shillings, was abandoned.

Then I undertook to wash up the table utensils, charging a party twopence per meal. This would have brought me greater reward had I adhered to my original intention. But one day the member of a party genially suggested, "We'll toss for it! Twopence or nothing!" I accepted the offer good-humouredly and—lost! By accepting this sporting recommendation I unfortunately established a ruinous precedent. The practice became general, and I, having a wretched run of bad luck, found that, all things considered, it would be better for my hands and pocket if I were to look farther afield for some other enterprise.

My third attempt to woo Fortune was to set myself up as a dealer in cast-off boots and shoes, my idea being to buy, sell and exchange. To my chagrin I speedily discovered that this calling demanded unlimited capital, because it was easier to buy than to sell or to exchange. Seeing that the average price I was prepared to pay was one shilling per pair, and the state of excruciating depression which prevailed in this field, I conjured visions of immense stocks of second-hand boots, representing a heavy investment of capital, which would lie idle for an indefinite period. So I retired discreetly from the second-hand boot and shoe trade to seek more promising pastures.

While pondering over the situation a happy idea struck me. In my younger days I had practised engraving, intending to adopt it as a trade. I devoted some six years to the craft and had achieved a measure of success and dexterity. Thereupon I decided to launch out in this direction. Although I felt that my hand had lost some of its cunning through lack of practice—I had not touched an engraving tool for about thirteen years—I decided to take the risk, feeling sure that it would soon return when I settled down to the fascinating work in grim earnest.

I confided my intention to one or two of my friends, but the majority, except my bosom chum K——, who is a far-seeing business man, with their innate shrewdness, wanted to know where I was going to get any custom in such a place as Ruhleben Camp. I explained that my idea was to engrave watches, coins, studs links, indeed any article which the prisoners possessed, thus converting them into interesting souvenirs of their sojourn in a German prisoners' camp during the Great War. But with the exception of K—— they declined to see eye to eye with me. Still I was not to be dissuaded, and consequently decided to commence operations upon my own initiative.

I was in a quandary. I had not sufficient capital to buy the necessary tools. However, K——, as usual, came to my assistance by financing me to the extent of seven-and-sixpence! This money I laid out upon tools, [*gap] Now I was confronted with another problem. How was I to keep the tools in the necessary sharpened condition. The only stone I could borrow was quite useless for engraving tools, while cutting plays such havoc with the edges of the tools as to demand frequent recourse to sharpening operations. However this obstacle did not daunt me. I found that with a sufficient expenditure of energy I could get a passably sharp edge for my purpose by grinding the tools on the floor and finishing them off upon a razor strop which I borrowed.

Now I had to seek for eligible premises. I sauntered round the camp to alight upon a tiny vacant building. As it appeared to have no owner, and was fulfilling no useful purpose I entered into possession. Directly I had installed myself the authorities came along and unceremoniously ejected me, bag and baggage. As soon as their backs were turned I re-entered into occupation. I was thrown out a second time, but still as resolutely determined as ever to continue my project I cast around and ultimately found an empty kiosk, standing forlorn and neglected, a silent memory of the brisk racing days at Ruhleben in pre-war times. I installed myself therein, not caring two straws whether the authorities endeavoured to turn me out or not. They would have to smash the place over my head before they evicted me this time, but they were scarcely likely to proceed to such extreme measures seeing that they would have had to break up their own property.

Numerous jealous individuals attempted to eject me time after time but I sat tight. I remember one tender and amiable official who endeavoured to convince me that the kiosk and other similar buildings were under his charge, and that he was responsible for them. As he narrated the situation I observed that he kept the open palm of his hand extended before me. When he found this broad hint to be of no avail he ordered me out of the building. Turning to him I suggested, in as suave a voice as I could command, that he should accompany me to the "Wachter" to ascertain the extent of his responsibilities and to have the matter thrashed out once and for all. Needless to say he declined this invitation, protesting that it was unnecessary. He invited me to retain occupation of the kiosk. My bluff completely outwitted the official in question, while I achieved my end for once without recourse to bribery and corruption of the official Teuton mind.

Several subsequent attempts were made to coax me out of my tenancy, but I may say that in sticking to the building I played the Germans at their own game. When the guard came up and authoritatively demanded by what manner of right or permission I had taken possession of the kiosk I politely referred him to a certain officer in the camp. When the latter, upon receiving the complaint, interrogated me in a similar vein, I referred him to another official. When this third individual appeared upon the scene I switched him off to another officer. By playing off the officials one against the other in this manner I precipitated such a tangle among them that no single official could say whether he had or had not given me permission. While these tactics were being pursued I was gaining the valuable time I desired, and took the opportunity to entrench myself firmly in my position. The outcome was that when finally the matter had been trotted through the Ruhleben German Circumlocution Office, and my eviction was officially sealed, I warded off the fate by announcing that I was overwhelmed with engraving orders for the military officers of the camp. It was a desperate bluff, but it succeeded. Officialdom apparently decided that I was better left alone, so I suffered no further molestation.

The whole of the night before opening my engraving business I sat up writing flaring signs and tickets to advertise my intentions far and wide, and soliciting the favour of orders which under my hand would convert this or that object into a priceless souvenir of our novel experience. I also canvassed the camp to explain my ideas, and, as I expected, orders commenced to flow in. The souvenir idea caught on to such a degree as to compel me to take in two fellow-prisoners, who evinced an aptitude for the work, as apprentices, and they speedily blossomed into craftsmen. My first week told me I had struck the correct money-making line at last. I found I had scooped in 200 marks—L10! This was not bad for the first week's trading and I entertained no apprehensions concerning the future. Out of this sum I was able to repay many little debts I had incurred.

The business developed so rapidly that an extension of premises became urgent. I rigged up an addition to the kiosk, but it had to be of a portable character, so that it could be taken down every evening. As I found my time was so occupied I reluctantly decided to keep only to the kiosk. I dressed its interior with shelves and further improved my premises by contriving show cases for attachment outside.

When I felt my feet I blossomed out in various directions. I bought a small stock of odds and ends in the cheap jewellery line, which were suitably engraved. Button decorations was one line I took up and these sold like wildfire. There was plenty of money in the camp, some of the prisoners being extremely wealthy, and this explains why my trade flourished so amazingly. Indeed, the results exceeded even my most sanguine anticipations.

One branch of my fertility nearly landed me into serious trouble. I fashioned souvenirs out of German coins. I erased the Imperial head and in its place engraved a suitable inscription. When the defacement of the money was discovered there was a fearful uproar, but as usual I contrived to escape the terrible punishment which was threatened.

Naturally one will wonder how it was I secured my supplies, seeing that purchases outside the camp were forbidden except through the officially approved channels. While it is inadvisable for me to relate how I did secure my varied stocks I may state that I never experienced any disappointment or even a hitch in this connection. Time after time I was taxed by military individuals, eager to secure incriminating evidence, but although they cajoled, coaxed and threatened I could not be induced to betray my secret. Indeed, at last, I point-blank refused to furnish any information upon this matter whatever, and with this adamantine decision they were forced to remain content. Doubtless they had their suspicions but it was impossible to bring anything home to me and so I was left in peace.

From cheap jewellery I advanced to more costly articles. I purchased a job lot of silver wrist watches from a Jew who had gone "broke," and these I cleared out within a very short time. I always paid spot cash and that was an overwhelming factor in my favour. Indeed, my trading operations became so striking that my name and business proceeded far beyond the confines of the camp. Within a few weeks of opening my shop I was receiving calls from men in the camp who were acting as representatives for some of the foremost Jewish wholesale houses in Germany, and they were almost fighting among themselves to secure my patronage. My biggest individual purchasing deal was a single lot of jewellery for which I paid nearly 1,000 marks—L50! From this, bearing in mind the difficulties which I had to overcome in securing delivery, it is possible to gain some idea of the brisk trade I was doing.

Everything and anything capable of being converted into a souvenir by the dexterous use of the engraving tool was handled by me indiscriminately. I bought a large consignment of briar pipes. Upon the bowls of these I cut a suitable inscription and filled the incisions with enamel. These caught the fancy of the smokers and I soon found my stock exhausted. As things developed I became more ambitious, although not reckless, until at last I had articles ranging up to L30 in price upon my shelves, in the disposal of which I experienced very little difficulty.

My shop became my one absorbing hobby although it boasted no pretensions. I contrived attractive show cases, some from egg-boxes, emblazoning the exterior with striking show cards and signs which I executed in the confines of my horse-box in the barracks after my comrades had gone to sleep. Not satisfied with this development I lighted the building brilliantly by means of electric lamps and a large flame acetylene lamp.

I did not confine myself to any one line of goods, but handled any thing capable of being turned into money quickly. In some instances I had to resort to extreme subterfuge to outwit the authorities. On one occasion I purchased a consignment of silk Union Jacks for wearing in the lapel of the coat. I knew full well that if I placed these on sale in my shop the stern hand of authority would swoop down swiftly and confiscate the hated emblem without the slightest compunction. So I evolved a special means of clearing them out and that within a very few minutes.

I went round to each barrack and button-holed a capable man to undertake to sell a certain number of the flags among the prisoners domiciled in his building. On the offer of a good commission the man was ready to incur great risks, although there was no risk in my plan. Each man thus received a territorial right as it were, and was protected against competition. The price was fixed and the arrangements for effecting the sale carefully drawn up. After the morning parade, the custom was to dismiss us to our barracks a few minutes before nine o'clock. We were compelled to stay within doors for some twenty minutes or so. This I decided to be the opportune occasion to unload my stock. I enjoined every vendor, when I handed him his stock overnight, to be on the alert in the morning, and as the clock struck nine to pass swiftly from man to man with his flags. The favour was a distinct novelty and I was positive they would sell like hot cakes.