Boulogne, December 4th, 1918. Boulogne, December 4th, 1918....

March 21st, 1918. The small box respirator, like the thirty-nine articles of the Faith, should be taken on trust; one is quite prepared to believe in its efficiency. Countless Base instructors have extolled it, countless memos from Division have confirmed their panegyrics; and with these credentials one carries it on one’s chest in a perfect faith; but one has no wish to put its merits to the test. No one if he can help it wishes to have his face surrounded by elastic and india-rubber, and his n

At the back of the mind there always exists a sort of unconscious conception of the various contingencies that may lie round the corner. It is usually unformulated, but it is there none the less, and at the moment when I was captured I had a very real if confused idea of what was going to happen to me. The idea was naturally confused because the etiquette of surrender is not included in Field Service Regulations, and as it is not with that intention that one originally sets out for France, the m

After the discomforts of the trenches and the tedium of a fortnight’s travelling, Karlsruhe provided a delightful haven. Here all the material needs were satisfied; there was a Red Cross issue of tin foods three times a week: the beds were moderately comfortable, and one’s clothes could be disinfected: and there was a library. After a fortnight’s exile from books there is no joy comparable to the sight of a printed page. And in the evenings we were allowed out till eleven o’clock. There were big

The entrance of the Citadel Mainz was calculated to inspire the most profound gloom. An enormous gate swung open, revealing a black and cavernous passage. As soon as all were herded in, the gate shut behind us, and we were immersed in darkness. Then another gate at the end of the passage creaked back on unoiled hinges, and ushered us into our new home. That cobwebbed passage was like the neutral space between two worlds. It laid emphasis on captivity. Under the lens of the mendacious camera the

At the beginning of May we had all resigned ourselves to a stay of at least two years in Germany. After that we should be probably exchanged, or interned in a neutral country. Perhaps the war might be over. At any rate soldiering was more or less done with; and the eye began to turn once again towards civilian occupations. In consequence the Future Career Society was born. It opened very modestly, under the auspices of a field officer and two subalterns. Its programme was to find out what each p

During those early days the chief interest of our life lay in the insight it gave into the conditions and psychology of the German people. For nearly four years we had been at war with this nation, and yet we knew practically nothing about it. For four years an iron screen had been drawn between us and them. All the information that we received came to us through the filtering places of many censorships. We were told only what the authorities wished us to be told; and of the countless activities

Towards the middle of June parcels began to arrive, and the camp became a very whispering gallery of rumours. It started with a wire from the Red Cross at Copenhagen stating that a consignment of relief parcels had been dispatched. From that moment, there was no incident of the day that was not somehow construed into a veiled reference to Danish bread. Lieut. Jones would meet Lieut. Brown on the way to the library. “Any news this morning, Brown?” “Nothing official.” “Then what’s the latest rumou

A great deal has been said and written on the subject of the treatment of British prisoners of war, and the general idea at the present moment is one of a succession of unparalleled brutalities and insults. That much inhumanity has been shown it is neither possible nor desirable to deny, and it is only just that those responsible should have to give an account of their actions. But it must be borne in mind that though all the instances brought forward are perfectly true and authentic, propaganda

Within a few weeks, however, the arrival of a parcel had ceased to be an affair of momentous import. We could look on bully beef and Maconochies with comparative unconcern. The contents of each parcel varied only in such incidentals as sugar, chocolate, and packets of whole rice. The framework was the same, a solid enough construction, but one that as a continuous diet proved ineffably tedious. To begin with, we tried to make our meals more interesting with improvised puddings. We mixed a certai

As military regulations state that it is the duty of every prisoner of war to make immediate and strenuous effort to escape, and as every man is at heart an adventurer, it is not surprising that our languid community was from time to time regaled by the rumours of impending sorties. No one has ever yet managed to escape from Mainz, and even if the war had lasted for another twenty years, I believe it would have retained its impregnability. For the citadel had been constructed so as to resist the

Each week the Pitt League posted up on the walls of the theatre a notice of the times and places of the various classes that were to be held. There were some six rooms at the disposal of this enterprising society. There was the attic at the top of Block I, a noisy room because the dramatic society would probably be found rehearsing next door; then there was the theatre, an impossible room; in the first place because it was too big, and in the second because the scenic artists behind the curtain

In only one province did Colonel Westcott, our genial factotum, place a voluntary check upon his own activities. His sphere, he decided, was confined within the elastic boundaries of education, moral conduct and Pan-Saxon philosophy. And he accepted these limitations with the quiet resignation of one who owns three-quarters of the globe, and deems the remainder to be a land of frost and snow. In other hands he laid the responsibilities of the sports and entertainments committees. And for this re

Since my return, so many people have asked me whether prisoners of war had any idea of the turn affairs were taking during the autumn, that it would be as well to state here exactly what our sources of information were. There were only two papers printed in English, the Anti-Northcliffe Times and the Continental Times . The former I never saw, and it cannot have had a very large circulation. But the Continental Times , which appeared three times a week, was to be found in every room in the camp.

After a confinement of eight months it was a wonderful thing to be able to walk through the streets unguarded. To be free again; no longer to be fenced round by barbed wire, to be shadowed by innumerable eyes; no longer to be under the rule of an arrogant Prussian. It was almost impossible to grasp it; that we were free, free. Every moment I expected to feel a heavy hand fall on my shoulder, and to hear a gruff voice bellow in my ear, “Es ist verboten, Herr Lieutenant.” And this sense of unreali