LITMIR.BIZ

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get 16s. a week and buy their own. Quite sufficient, as it is cheap. I have learnt German fairly quickly and do interpreter now in the shop for the men, though, I am afraid, tant mal que bien. One of the officials here used to be a professor, and is very kind trying to teach us. Thanks for the warm underclothes, and most awfully for the footballs. We have quite good matches. … It is better not to try to send any public news of any kind from England; people having been stupid trying to smuggle letters in cakes and things, and it only makes trouble for everyone.

      A Captain writes:

      For dinner at 1 p.m. we are given soup, meat and vegetables. … Supper takes place at 7 o’clock and consists of tea, sausages or meat and potatoes. … We receive £5 a month as pay, of which 1s. 6d. is deducted for food each day. We have a canteen here at which we can buy everything we want, … so there is no need to send me anything at all, except perhaps those small 7d. editions of novels.

      An English lady wrote early in 1915 from Munich:

      I must tell you I had permission to visit a wounded English officer, a cousin, and I think it would reassure many people at home to know how warmly he speaks of the great kindness that has been shown him now for five months, as well as the skill and attention of the doctors.—(Times, March 17, 1915.)

      Here, too, is a letter from Lieut.-Observer J. E. P. Harvey, an officer of the Bedfordshire Yeomanry, and attached to the Royal Flying Corps:

      I met one of the pilots of the German machines that had attacked us. He could speak English well and we shook hands after a most thrilling fight. I had brought down his machine with my machine-gun, and he had to land quite close to where I landed. He had a bullet through his radiator and petrol tank, but neither he nor his observer was touched. I met two German officers that knew several people that I knew, and they were most awfully kind to me. They gave me a very good dinner of champagne and oysters, etc., and I was treated like an honoured guest. I then came by train the next day to Mainz, where I was confined in a room by myself for two days. I have now been moved into a general room with eight other English officers, where we sleep and eat. We are treated very well, and play hockey and tennis in the prison yard.—(News of the World, February 27, 1916.)

      Miss Colenso gives the following account, which appeared in the Daily News of June 28, 1918:

      A minister friend of mine told me the story of a young Scottish boy of his acquaintance, now a military prisoner in Germany—I forget for the moment in which camp. This boy received a letter from home one day telling of his mother’s serious illness and the doctor’s verdict that she could only live a few weeks. The German Commandant, finding the boy in great distress, asked him what was the matter, and on learning the cause of his grief, said: “Would you like to go home to your mother?” The boy sprang up, exclaiming indignantly, “How can you mock me when you know it is impossible?” “But you shall go, my boy,” said the commandant. “I will pay your return fare on condition that you give me your word of honour to come back here.” The boy went home to Scotland and remained by his mother’s side for about three weeks till her death, when, true to his word, he returned to Germany.

      The writer of “Under the Clock” considers that “well-attested” stories of this kind should be given publicity. It is even more necessary to examine the “attestation” of the other kinds of stories, for all the bias is against the enemy, and demand is apt to create supply.

Merseburg, Dœberitz.

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      I pass on now to a report made by a United States Official. The American Consul writes from Leipzig under date of November 16, 1914: “On Saturday afternoon, the 14th instant, I visited the military concentration camp near Merseburg, where some 10,000 prisoners of war are interned. The object of my visit was to investigate the claim of a French prisoner that he is an American subject. The result of my observations regarding the welfare and humane treatment of the prisoners at large was a surprise to me. … Separated by nationality, these prisoners are housed in wooden buildings, well built, ventilated and heated. … They sleep upon straw mattresses in well-warmed quarters, and, as far as I could judge, are as well or better housed than labourers upon public works in the United States. The prisoners are fed three times a day. Breakfast consists of coffee and bread. Dinner consists of vegetable and meat, soup and bread, and for supper they are given bread and coffee. I was informed that many of the prisoners have some money, and that they are allowed to buy whatever else they may wish to eat. If I may judge from the mounds of empty beer bottles at hand, there is evidence in support of this statement. The prisoners appeared to be in good health and cheerful, many of them engaging in games and other pastimes.”

The diet described must be frightfully monotonous. Feeding has throughout been one of the German difficulties. “Germany claims to hold 433,000 prisoners of war,” wrote an anonymous American journalist (probably in November, 1914); “the housing and feeding of so great a number must be a tremendous strain upon resources drained by the necessities of war.” The numbers must now exceed two million. The Press article referred to [Misc. No. 7 (1915)] is severe on the misery of camp life, and the verminousness of the men (they were of mixed nationality) in the camp at Döberitz which he visited. (See, however, the further official reports quoted below at p. 9). But the writer does not confine his condemnation to one side. “One hears of battles in which no quarter is granted. There are stories of one side or the other refusing an armistice to permit the other to gather its wounded. Each side is desperately determined to win, and neither is counting the cost. So men must rust in prison camps until the struggle is over.” The monotony in this case seems to have been varied by fights between the prisoners of different nationality, each set considering that the others had not done their part in the war. We need not be contemptuous about that. The monotony of the prisoners’ life must tend to produce the maximum degree of mutual friction. There is absolutely no privacy for the prisoner of war. To be forced to remain, day and night, for months and years in idleness, with a crowd of others, not of one’s own choice is, I believe, one of the psychological factors which make internment (especially to many civilians) decidedly worse than imprisonment in a criminal prison.

Correspondence and Packages.

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      My next document illustrates the fact that each side makes similar complaints about the other. Telegram received by American Embassy, London, December 23, 1914, 22nd from Berlin Embassy:

      “Foreign Office reports receiving many complaints that money and packages sent German military and civilian prisoners in enemy countries from Germany do not reach addresses. Please secure information for Department to forward German Foreign Office whether money and other postal matter will be delivered to such prisoners promptly and intact.—Bryan, Washington.”

      There is no doubt that many letters and parcels have not reached German prisoners in England. Lord Robert Cecil has fully allowed this. (Times report. March 11, 1915.) In spite of this, I have no doubt that the British authorities have done their best to expedite delivery. I would suggest that this is probably the case on the other side, too. We shall indeed later come upon some definite statements in support of this view. One frequent cause of the non-arrival of parcels in Germany has been convincingly described by Mr. Ian Malcolm, M.P. (Daily Mail, November 8, 1916, and Reprint):

I did not approach this subject quite “new to the game.” I had already visited general post offices in England, Switzerland and elsewhere, and had seen thousands, literally thousands, of food parcels intended for our prisoners of war in Germany falling to bits and incapable of being forwarded for want of skilled packing. The sight was enough to make angels weep. To think that so much self-sacrifice had been exercised in humble homes to save up bits of dripping, crusts of bread, broken cigarettes, and what not, in order that these should reach son or brother

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