Three Times and Out Part 8

The Captain instructed us to put up our hands, and two of the soldiers searched us. They were welcome to my map, because already I was thinking of making another, but I did not like to see my compa.s.s go--I kept wondering how I would ever get another.

There was no hostility in their att.i.tude toward us, either from the soldiers or the civilians. The potato-diggers, mostly women, went straight back to their work as if they had done their share and now some one else could "carry on." Prisoners or no prisoners, the potatoes had to be dug.

A few children gathered around us, but they kept back at a respectful distance and made no remarks. Where the military are concerned, the civilian population do not interfere, even by words or looks.

The village women who gathered around us had most apathetic, indifferent, sodden faces; I don't believe they knew what it was all about. They were no more interested in what was going on than the black-and-white Holstein cows that grazed in the meadow near by.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Map made by Private Simmons of the First Attempt]

I spoke of this afterwards to Bromley.

"But you must remember," he said, "they knew enough to go and tell on us. That wasn't so slow."

We could see that the soldiers were greatly pleased with their catch, by the way they talked and gesticulated. Every one was pleased but us! Then the commander, addressing his men in what we took to be a congratulatory speech, called for volunteers. We knew the word.

I looked at Bromley, and saw the same thought in his face, but his sense of humor never failed him.

"Cheer up, Sim!" he said. "They are just calling for volunteers to shoot us. The boys must have something to practise on."

We laughed about it afterwards, but I must say I did not see much fun in it that minute. But it was only volunteers to take us into Aschaffenburg. The commander wished to spread the joy and gladness as far as it would go, and I think it was fully a dozen who escorted us to Aschaffenburg, about a mile and a half away.

They marched us through the princ.i.p.al streets, where I saw the sign "Kleiderfabrik" many times. The people stopped to look at us, but I saw no evidence of hostility. I am not sure that the majority of the people knew who we were, though of course they knew we were foreigners.

There was one person, however, who recognized us, for as we were marching past one of the street-corners, where a group had gathered, a voice spoke out in excellent English, "Canadians, by Jove! And two fine big chaps, too!"

The voice was friendly, but when I turned to look I could not see who had spoken.

Their pride in showing us off was "all right for them," but pretty hard on us, for it was a long time since we had slept, and we did not enjoy being paraded through the city just for fun. We knew we were in for it, and wanted to know just what they were going to do with us.

At last they drew up with great ceremony before the Military Headquarters, where there was more challenging, by more guards. I think another guard fell in behind to see that we did not bolt, and we were conducted into the presence of the Supreme Commander of that Military District.

He sat at a high desk in the centre of the room. There were several clerks or secretaries in the room, all in uniform, and there seemed to be considerable business going on when we came in, for numerous typewriters were going and messengers were moving about. I noticed there was not a woman in the room.

When we entered and were swung up to the Commander's desk, with a few words of introduction, there was complete silence.

The soldiers who brought us in stepped back in a straight line, all in step, and waited to be congratulated, with that conscious air of work well done that a cat has when she throws down a mouse and stands around to hear the kind words which will be spoken.

The Supreme Commander was a grizzled man, with bushy gray eyebrows which were in great need of being barbered, red cheeks, and a curled-up mustache. He spoke through an interpreter.

We were asked our names, ages, previous occupation, when captured, and the most important questions of all, "Why were we fighting against Germany?" and, "Why did we want to leave Germany?"

I was questioned first, and after I had answered all the minor questions, I told him I enlisted in the Canadian Army because we considered ourselves part of the British Empire, and besides, Great Britain's share in the war was an honorable one which any man might well be proud to fight for. I said we were fighting for the little nations and their right to live and govern themselves. I told him it was the violation of Belgium that had set Canada on fire.

When this was pa.s.sed on by the interpreter, I could see it was not well received, for the old man's eyebrows worked up and down and he said something which sounded like "Onions."

Then he asked me what did Canada hope to get out of the war? I said, "Nothing"--Canada would gain nothing--but we had to maintain our self-respect, and we couldn't have kept that if we had not fought.

"But," I said, "the world will gain a great deal from the war, for it will gain the right to live at peace."

At the mention of peace, some of the officers laughed in contempt, but at a glance from the Supreme Commander, the laugh was checked with great suddenness!

He then asked me why I wanted to get out of Germany.

I told him no free man enjoyed being a prisoner, and besides, I was needed in the army.

All these answers were taken down by two secretaries, and Bromley was put through the same list of questions.

He told them no one in Canada had to fight, no one wanted to fight, because we are peaceable people, but we believe a little nation had a right to live, and we had been taught that the strong must defend the weak.

When they asked him why he wanted to get away from Germany, he told them he had a wife and two children in Canada, and he wanted to see them: whereupon the Commander broke out impatiently, "This is no time for a man to think of his wife and children!"

When the Supreme Commander was through with us, we were taken to the station and put on the train for Giessen, escorted by a Sergeant Major, who had an iron cross ribbon on his coat, and two privates.

We got a drink at a tap in the station and ate some bread and cheese from our pack, which they had not taken away from us, but they did not offer us anything to eat.

On the train, where we had a compartment to ourselves, one of the privates bought some fruit, and gave us a share of it. Our German money had been taken away from us when they searched us, and we had nothing but prison-stamps, which are of no use outside the prison-camp. One of the privates was a university man, and in broken English tried to tell us why Germany had to enter the war, to save herself from her enemies. I thought his reasoning was more faulty than his English, but believed in his sincerity.

He told us that every nation in the whole world hated Germany and was jealous of "him," and that England was the worst of all. He said England feared and hated the Bavarians most of all, and that all Bavarian prisoners were shot. I tried to convince him that this was not so; but he was a consistent believer and stuck to it. He said when Germany won the war "he" would be very kind to all the countries "he" conquered, and do well for them. He told us he hated England, but not all "Englanders" were bad!

At Hanau we changed cars and had a few minutes to wait, and our guards walked up and down with us. The station was crowded with people, and the lunch-tables were crowded, although it was getting late in the evening.

At Friedberg we had an hour's wait, and we saw the same thing.

Beer-drinking and eating was going on in a big lunch-room, but the patrons were ninety per cent men. The Sergeant Major with the iron cross did not bother us at all, and at Friedberg he devoted himself to the young lady who sold cigars, beer, and post-cards in the station.

We asked our friend who could speak a little English what they were saying, but he, being a university man and of high degree socially, gave us to understand that the Sergeant Major was lowering his dignity to flirt with the girl behind the counter. He said it was all "verrucktheit" (craziness). We were of the opinion that it was the girl who was stepping down!

When we got into Giessen, they took us on the street-car to the prison-camp, and we were glad, for it had been a long day for us, and the thought of longer ones ahead was not cheering.

We were taken to the hut where the prison-guards sleep, and were given a room at the very end, where we would surely be safe. We were tired enough not to give any trouble, and when they left us, we threw ourselves down without undressing and slept till morning.

At nine o'clock we were taken before the officers of our own Company, and put through the same questions. The answers were written down, as before. We were then marched away to the Strafe-Barrack.

The Strafe-Barrack had in it about thirty prisoners, but it was not nearly full. These were all kept at one end of the hut, and at the other end there were three men whose official standing was somewhat of a mystery to us at first. Two of them were Belgians, a private and a Sergeant, and one was a British Sergeant. They were dressed like ordinary prisoners, but seemed to be able to go about at will.

We soon caught on to the fact that they were spies, whose business it was to watch the prisoners and repeat anything that would be of interest to the authorities. During the five days we were kept there, waiting for "cells," we found them quite friendly.

CHAPTER X

THE CELLS!

On the morning of the fifth day two cells were reported empty, and we were taken to them.

The cells are in a wooden building inside the camp, and in the building we were in there were ten of them, divided from each other by wooden part.i.tions whose cracks are battened with strips of wood to prevent light from coming through. There are two windows, one over the door and one in the outside wall. These have a solid wooden door which can be shut over them, excluding every ray of light.

The cells are about six feet by eight in size, and have a wooden platform to sleep on. There is no bedding of any kind. There is one shelf, on which a pitcher of drinking-water stands, and there is an electric b.u.t.ton by which the guard can be called.