We went into Cologne some days before our programme at the urgent
request of the _Burgermeister_. We were invited in! The German seamen
of the Grand Fleet had played the devil, as in all the towns they had
passed through. They had established a Soldiers’ and Workmen’s Council
on the Russian system, raised the Red Flag, liberated the criminals from
the prisons. Shops had been sacked, houses looted. The _Burgermeister_
desired British troops to ensure law and order.
There was no disorder visible when we entered Cologne. The
revolutionaries had disappeared. The streets were thronged with
middle-class folk, among whom were thousands of men who had taken
off their uniforms a few days before our coming, or had “civilised”
themselves by tearing off their shoulder-straps and badges. As our
first squadron rode into the great cathedral square on the way to the
Hohenzollem Bridge many people in the crowds turned their heads away and
did not glance at the British cavalry. We were deliberately ignored,
and I thought that for the Germans it was the best attitude, with most
dignity. Others stared gravely at the passing cavalcade, showing no
excitement, no hostility, no friendliness, no emotion of any kind. Here
and there I met eyes which were regarding me with a dark, brooding look,
and others in which there was profound melancholy. That night, when I
wandered out alone and lost my way, and asked for direction, two young
men, obviously officers until a few days back, walked part of the way to
put me right and said “_Bitte schön! Bitte!_” when I thanked them, and
saluted with the utmost courtesy.... I wondered what would have happened
in London if we had been defeated and if German officers had walked
out alone at night and lost themselves in by-streets and asked the way.
Imagination fails before such a thought. Certainly our civility would
not have been so easy. We could not have hidden our hatred like that, if
these were hiding hatred.
Somehow, I could not find even the smouldering fires of hate in any
German with whom I spoke that day. I could find only a kind of dazed and
stupor-like recognition of defeat, a deep sadness among humble people,
a profound anxiety as to the future fate of a ruined Germany, and a hope
in the justice of England and America.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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