Category: diary

11 May 1918

Saturday May 11th.
Brought out mysteriously one by one and catechised by an interpreter (It needs a nice discrimination to decide what questions to answer and what not to answer.  It is manifestly absurd to irritate the man by refusing to answer such questions as <What H.P. had your engine?> when the machine is in their hands, while equally certainly you’re not going to give away any information of real value).
2 p.m.  Sent to the main Karlsruhe camp.  French colonels and majors.  Serbian.  Italian majors.  Three of our own Brigadiers &c.  Grub still average.  Library.  This place is too good to stop in for long.

10 May 1918

Friday. May 10th. Had a short railway journey to Karlsruhe, a very jolly/country town.  Stuck in an ex-hotel there, and locked four in a room.  Usual canteen things, cigarettes, sardines &c. brought up to us.  We cashed cheques on the spot, I for £5.*  Food quite good though distinctly more-ish and largely vegetarian.  Still, after Rastatt, I’ll never grumble again – at least, not seriously.
* My Rastatt cheque has not materialised yet. May 28th

22 April-9 May 1918

Sunday. April. 21st to Friday. May. 10th     Rastatt
The camp was composed of about seven different blocks, of which two were occupied by British officers, and the remainder by French and Portuguese.  In the two British blocks when I arrived were nearly 1500 British officers!  In our block, No 2, were about 12 huts, each containing about 70 or 80 bunks in double tiers.  We 800 had about 80 yards square to walk about in, in between the huts; for the first week of my stay there I could get no book to read, and since, at first the weather was bad, and we were were forced to stay indoors, the boredom was intolerable.  Moreover, the quality of the food provided was very poor, and the only cooking appliances there would not permit of anything but boiling, so we lived entirely on soups, and meatless soup at that.  At its best, it was a thick mixture of barley, bean meal, potatoes in their skin (of which fully a half were bad) and soup extract; though the changes were rung on such things as carrots (so called, but in reality mangel-wurzels) swedes; semolina, beans, and very occasionally a few scraps of meat; at its worst it was a mixture of chopped up bad potatoes, swedes, and mangels.  We had soup twice a day, and in addition, a ration each of a fifth of a loaf of black bread.  A very fair days meal was this

8.30.      Coffee.  Sugar.  Bread.
12.30.    Soup of Barley, Carrots (sic), Potatoes, Soup Extract

3.30       Tea or Coffee
5.30       Soup of Potatoes, Carrots, Beetroot
Great competition for ‘Buckshee’ soup

About once a week at tea-time, they issued a spoonful of jam or an ounce of some sausage of, I think, pigs-blood.  We were all hungry there all of the time, and I myself used to feel very dizzy and weak at times.  We occasionally were able to buy biscuits of some kind of meal from the canteen at 3d each but there was so great a rush on them, that a canteen committee was got up to ensure equal distribution.  On a good day one might get four biscuits.  Towards the end of my stay we were able to buy tins of sardines at 1/6 each, and bags of dried fruit (but very inferior to our English) at 5/- for about ¾ lb, but my money ran out after 10 days, and it took about three weeks there to get a cheque cashed.
We were vaccinated once there, and inoculated three times.  It was difficult to avoid becoming lousy.  After ten days I got a hot shower bath, had my hair clipped short, and had a sort of green chemical paste painted over my body, which took off all the hair.  Looked, and still look, more like a convict than anything but feel rather happier.
My second day I ran into P.D. Rogers, of KRRs, who was in my section as a Cadet at Oxford.  We had some long talks of the old times at Oxford, and succeeded, without much difficulty, in making each others mouths water very freely over past feeds.  (While I am on the subject, I must say that my thoughts have so constantly harped upon food, that I am seriously thinking of editing a book – ‘Meals I have eaten’ by R.a.B.)  We arranged a great platoon dinner to take place (please God) after the war, of all the survivors of No.14. platoon, Keble College, Oxford – or, if they are many enough, a sectional dinner.  He met two of them in Captivity – Styles, of No. 5 Section and Taylor of No 7 section.  I heard from him too that Cameron has followed Bennett to the Indian Army – good luck to him.  I heard here too that poor old Battersby has gone west, gassed.  It seemed difficult to realise that just a year ago I was a Cadet at Oxford.  I little thought then, as I celebrated by 23rd birthday at the Clarendon with Brown, that I should spend my 24th here.  Still, God knows, I’ve no right to grumble, I might easily have been ‘full fathom five’ by now.
There recurred very little there to make special mention of.  What little country we could see was very fine and hilly; ranges of hills, stretching away into the distance, covered by the Black Forest, with stretches of vineyards in places.  May 1st.  Dad’s birthday.
Batches of officers were sent away to permanent camps every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, usually going to stay at the clearing camp at Karlsruhe for a few days first.  You may guess what suppressed excitement there was before each list.  On my second day at Rastatt I found out that an R.F.C. pilot named Hanna was in the other block, so I managed to get a note taken in to him.  He came see me next day for an hour (you would have thought we’d not seen each other for years) and we solemnly recited our respective adventures since we parted.  He left Rastatt on the Friday sending a note to say he thought he was going to Freiburg.
To cut a long and painful story short, after 3 weeks, feeling halfstarved, and fed up to the teeth (but not with food) 8 of us, R.F.C. officers were moved to Karlsruhe.

21 April 1918

On Sunday. April 21st. My birthday.  We arrived at Karlsruhe, a kind of central distribution camp for sending officers all over Germany.  It was full up, and we were sent an hour’s railway journey to Rastatt, an overflow camp, and the very worst place I’ve been in at present in Germany.  The country was very hilly and beautiful round here, while there were large vineyards on the southern side of the hills.  One could see the Black Forest which stretched away for miles.  Going along in the train, we would suddenly come upon most beautiful panoramas, and upon unsuspected villages nestling in the sides of hills, or tucked away in some sheltered valley.  And here I must say that I was delighted at the picturesqueness and neatness of their villages, and very much surprised at the clean-ness.  No paper or rubbish littered their streets and the whole place looked very well kept.  Practically every acre is under cultivation, while around the villages and towns, market gardening, and intensive culture was being carried out.

20 April 1918

On Saturday. April 20th.  Fourteen of us were sent to Karlsrühe.  We started about 10. a.m. and had a German officer in charge, who was very decent.  We had rations, cheese, meatpaste, sandwiches, and a boiled egg, from the Hospital and in addition he got us a hot supper that night, a rissole, macaroni and beaucoup potatoes in their skins at the restaurant of  a station at which we stopped, and a hot lunch next day – goat’s meat and potatoes – the last decent meal we were to have for three weeks.  The money for these meals he subtracted from the amounts to our credit on his list (for I had cashed at Hannover a cheque for £4).

12-19 April 1918

Thursday, April 11th to Saturday, April 20th   Hannover
First morning saw specialist who examined our wounds and spouted out a diagnosis to a writing clerk.  I felt rather an outsider at being the only unwounded officer there, but he had so much to dictate to the sweating clerk about my sprains that I took heart of grace again.  There was a barber’s shop in the building: went and had a 14 days growth of beard removed.  Felt more like a Christian.  Could get a bath any time by paying a mark.  Had four during the ten days.  Small and very limited English library there.  Read ‘Stingaree Stories’ – jolly good!! & ‘Henry Esmond’ – essentially a prisoner-of-war book.  Hospital full of all nationalities, and to stroll in the garden was like entering the Tower of Babel – or a monkey house.  British, German, French, Belgian, Roumanian, Russian – all were there.  The garden had a fair sized stream flowing past the end, and one could see Hannover Town Hall with its gilded dome which used to catch the sunlight.  It is a very fine city.  We bought most of our immediate requirements through the interpreter, such things as soap, razor, brush, comb, knives, suit case, tooth-brush, tooth paste.  The soap (about the size of a sample piece in England) was very poor and fabulously dear.  It was comical to have to pay more for it than for the razor.  Most thing are much dearer than in England.
Our daily fare was the best I had had since being in Germany:
8.   Two small slices bread and jam.  Coffee, milk.
10.   Two small slices bread and vurst (sort of potted meat containing onion).  Coffee.
12.   Square meal.  Meat and as much potato as one could eat; followed by a sweet, a cross between marzipan and coloured blancmange. (On meatless days, a very large thick and very satisfying pancake with boiled apple).  Soup.
3.   Two small slices bread and butter.  Coffee.  Sugar.
6.   Two small sandwiches (4 slices) with either cheese, meatpaste or a boiled egg.  Coffee or tea (the latter a substitute of course).

In addition to this we had divided between us by the senior officer, an English Major, something from the parcels of officers who had gone to Holland, so that with the first meal every day we had porridge which we ate with the sugar saved from the 3 o’clock meal of the day before; while every evening we had a small piece of bully beef or chicken or salmon, or biscuits, or some other equally acceptable dainty.  After about five days I was put by myself into a room with Polish, Russian and French officers.  Had my meals next door with three old British prisoners of war, who were receiving parcels so that I did very well, and ate white bread from Copenhagen.  I played a good deal of chess with a French Major and Captain, but beat them fairly easily.  The Pole however was a much better player, and we had some fine games.  I confess I chiefly won through his impatience.  He gave me a tin opener.
On Sunday April 14. I got off my first letter home giving an address, with all about myself and much talk of parcels.  Also one card to Berne, Switzerland, asking for two loaves of bread a week*.  And one to the Red Cross, Geneva, asking that a wire should be sent home, saying that I was safe and a prisoner of war.  That wire should have been home by my birthday.
About Monday April 15th.  The Dutch Ambassador or a representative from Berlin visited to inspect conditions etc.  He took our addresses, and promised to send wires for us from Berlin to say we were safe.  Nothing like making sure.  I wish I knew how things are going at home.

* (Which I haven’t seen yet – May 27th)
(nor yet – June 15th)

 

11 April 1918

Thursday, April 11th 8.pm.  Arrived at Hannover.  We eight officers were put into the hall of the Station Hotel, which apparently was run by the local Red Cross.  An hour or so later we were taken by a special Red Cross tram to a Hospital.  We were a great object of curiosity in the streets.  It rather amused me, who all my life have felt a comparatively slow to anger inoffensive Britisher, to be regarded as a kind of supervillain, or first class murderer.  The hospital had before the war been a War School (Kreig’s Schüle).  We were put into a small ward, and slept soundly on good beds with blankets.  Next morning we had breakfast.  Coffee and two small slices of bread and jam (a lighter coloured bread than at Le Cateau).  Had a shower bath, and handed in our clothes for disinfection – the last alas! that I saw of my beautiful leather waistcoat.  I got the other things back, but not that.  Served me right for being such a fool as to hand it in.  Went about in hospital clothes.  White cotton pants, trousers, shirt, a jacket like a painters overall, and a white necktie.  We looked like a party of modern Arcadians.  Had coverlet, two blankets, sheet and mattress on the bed.  Felt, and were, in clover.

10 April 1918

10.pm. Wednesday night. Arrived at Cöln (Cologne) after passing through some very beautiful country.  Was disappointed in not seeing the Rhine and the famous Cologne bridge.  No hospital accommodation at Cologne, so changed trains to go on to Hannover.  On this train we officers, by this time eight in number, got two compartments to ourselves, the first preferential treatment we had obtained.  Had changed my money (about 100 francs) for 80 marks at Le Coteau.  Bought cigarettes (very expensive and not so good as English ones) en route.  Managed to buy a piece of good soda-cake for 2 marks.  Very picturesque country.  Our train contained very many wounded German officers and men.  It was very quaint to see all the children by the sides of the railway waving.  They all did it, yet no smiles or cheering.  It seemed to me that it was become mechanical, they did it so often.  They had obviously been taught to do it, and yet it seemed a very pleasant custom.  Too often do our own wounded excite no attention beyond curiosity.  For the rest our own medical services are infinitely superior to the enemy’s.  At many of the very frequent stops (I remember once we travelled five miles in five hours) women came hurrying down with hot soup or coffee for their wounded.  It gave one the other side of the picture, and the sight of the women and girls, many of them in black, and especially of the kiddies, made me think again what a bloody business this war is.

9 April 1918

Tuesday April 9th.  Awakened at 4 AM, with the two other officers and a whole party of men, and marched slowly to station.  Took seats in a so-called Red Cross train.  Very crowded and uncomfortable.  Wooden seats.  In train for 60 hours.  Hot and good soup served on board.  Pitied a certain Sergeant Major – an old boy, a Regular, who was mostly wounded by a bomb in the backside, and who was sitting.
(One thing I forgot to mention.  All bandages are made from paper, whether for small wounds or for broken legs.  Splints are not wooden, but of stiff iron wire framework.  One of them we used very effectively at Hannover as a toasting rack).
Tuesday night I managed to sleep a couple of hours or so stretched out on the floor, but my morning freshness was spoilt by the number of people who walked on my face.  One particular kick in the ear I shall never quite forget.