Donington Hall was the model prisoners’ camp of England. To go by all we had read about it for weeks in English papers it should have been Paradise. Daily, long-winded columns abused the Government for the luxury with which the German officers were housed. As usually happens, the strongest attacks were launched by women, and they even turned our ejection from Donington Hall into a feminist issue. Even Parliament had to take up this matter repeatedly. It was rumoured that the place was lavishly furnished, that we had several entertainment and billiard rooms, a private deer park; and even indulged in fox hunts, especially got up for our benefit. None of this was true. Donington Hall was a large, old castle dating from the seventeenth century, surrounded by a lovely old park; but its rooms were completely bare, and its accommodation as primitive and scanty as possible. There was no trace of the other items—entertainment-rooms or hunting. After our arrival the inmates numbered 120, and we were packed together like pickled herrings. One cannot imagine what would have happened if the camp had held its full complement—400 to 500 officers—as our mess, kitchens and bathrooms, etc., were far from sufficient even as it was. We loved the beautiful park most. Our residence was divided into two zones—_i.e._ in the so-called day and night boundaries. These areas were marked off by huge erections of barbed wire, which were partly charged with electricity, illuminated at night by powerful arc-lamps, and guarded sharply by sentries both day and night. At six in the evening, after the principal roll-call, the day-boundary was closed, and only reopened the next day at eight. Life at Donington Hall was practically the same as at Holyport, with the difference that, thanks to the park, we had greater liberty of movement, could indulge in more sport, and had three tennis-courts. The food here also was English, so that many did not like it; but it was very good. The English Colonel was reasonable, and, although he often grumbled, and was at times rather inclined to make us feel his authority, he was a distinguished, intelligent man, and a perfect soldier, and that was the principal thing. He did all that lay in his power to lighten our hard lot, and took a special interest in our sports—which was all to the good. He had a most obnoxious substitute in the person of the interpreter, Lieutenant M——, the motorist, who was a worthy counterpart of my friend M—— of the _Andania_—not only “temporary Lieutenant,” but also “temporary gentleman.” His family came from Frankfurt-on-the-Main; he was director of a strolling troupe before the war, and he did nothing to disguise his base disposition. I believe the English Colonel regarded him with the utmost contempt, and the English sergeants, with whom we occasionally exchanged a few words in the canteen, begged us to believe that all English officers were not like this Mr. M——.