Tag: WW1

17 July 1918: POW Graudenz

RAB diary Wednesday July 17, 1918, Graudenz: "letter home [in code]"
Wednesday, July 17, 1918: “letter home [in code]”
Wednesday July 17th.  Sent letter home [in code] describing food here.  Got a letter from Geneva stating that my postcard of April 12, asking for a wire to be sent home, reached them on May 29, and was telegraphed then.  My letter probably was as quick.

16 July 1918: POW Graudenz

RAB diary Tuesday July 16, 1918, Graudenz: "Red letter day"
Tuesday, July 16, 1918: “Red letter day”

Tuesday. July 16.     Red letter day.  Two R.F.C. parcels arrived, dated May 31st, and directed to Hannover.  Both intact except for a cake of soap, alas!  Still, cleanliness, though next to godliness, is a bad second to ones tummy in Graudenzlager.  Rather perturbed to hear my friends remark how thin I look.  Usually people you meet every day are slow to see a difference in you.  Still, thank God I feel fit again.  I’m sharing parcels with Miller, a very decent little Scotchman from Glasgow.  You will never quite realise at home the delicious taste of that first tin of Haricot Mutton.

14 July 1918: POW Graudenz

RAB diary Sunday July 14, 1918, Graudenz: "visions of meals"
Sunday, July 14, 1918: “visions of meals”

Sunday. July 14.     Though this is a diary, it is for you all at home, for interest and amusement after the war.  But one thing you will never quite fully appreciate; the delight we have in self torture, in conjuring up visions of meals we might be eating, were we home.  We eat enough here to keep from dying, but we are constantly hungry and get weaker every day.  Today I feel much better in myself, but I really haven’t the strength to walk round the square more than once.  We arrange any little business we have to do so that we need not climb up and down stairs more than necessary – just as if we were a lot of old ladies.  This morning we discussed a probable breakfast.  I plumped for:
Banana Fritters
Fish Cakes and Tomato Ketchup (Salmon)
Bacon and eggs.  Fried Bread
(Bread) butter, marmalade, Toast
(Coffee) Café au lait.
I must ask Tootsie to have it as a treat one morning après la guerre.
Instead of which I had – black bread: 3 ozs.  Coffee.
Rumours of 400 parcels at the station.

13 July 1918: POW Graudenz

RAB diary Saturday July 13, 1918, Graudenz: "exchange of prisoners?"
Saturday, July 13, 1918: “exchange of prisoners?”

Saturday July 13th     Great excitement has us all in thrall.  It seems fairly official that negotiations are in hand at the Hague for the immediate exchange of prisoners, whether direct repatriation, conditional or unconditional; or internment in Holland.  I confess myself sceptical.  Beaten at chess. 2½ hours.

12 July 1918: POW Graudenz

RAB diary Friday July 12, 1918, Graudenz: "we have all the indolence of one of the ‘idle rich’"
Friday, July 12, 1918: “all the indolence of one of the ‘idle rich’”

Friday, July 12th.     Felt considerably better.  Quite a large list of parcels for the camp.  I was unlucky however.
We live here on about an eighth of a loaf, and two soups a day.  Yet after our sumptuous repast we drink wine (at least some do: I personally don’t) at 13/- the bottle; and smoke cigars varying in price from 1/6 to 2/3 each.  So we live the life, and have all the indolence of one of the ‘idle rich’.

11 July 1918: POW Graudenz

RAB diary Thursday July 11, 1918, Graudenz: "no power over me"
Thursday, July 11, 1918: “no power over me”

Thursday July 11th.     Went sick again.  Opium three times a day.  Was standing in the porch awaiting the German Medical Officer when someone passed whom, at the last moment, I recognised as a English Colonel and stood to attention accordingly.  It was O.C. Block I a comic self opinionated clown named Hodgekin, who addressed me in this wise ‹Why don’t you stand to attention, Sir?  Do you realise that I’m the Commanding Officer of a Regiment!!! (Capital and italics)   I’ll teach you to know who I am, my lad!!›
To which I, boiling with indignation ‹I did stand to attention, Sir, so soon as I noticed your rank›
To which he ‹Take that man’s name, so and so; I’ll carry this matter further; I’ll get you a dose of cells, my lad›
Words fail me!  Apart from the fact that we are both prisoners of war, and that he has no power over me, am I a private that I should be spoken to like that?  I rejoiced to hear later from an officer in his battalion that he was a most painful turd even in France.

7 July 1918: POW Graudenz

RAB diary Sunday July 7, 1918, Graudenz: "2½ big biscuits each"
Sunday, July 7, 1918: “2½ big biscuits each”

Sunday. July 7th.     Feel jolly rotten and weak today.  Diarrhoea.  Fancy I must have been slightly poisoned by some comic tinned fish paste I ate Friday.  Got an issue of 2½ big biscuits each.  Ate them with much relish and a little butter.  Glorious!  Wrote home giving advice about my balance at Cox’s.  Took a calomel lozenge at night.