Sixteen Months in Four German Prisons: Wesel, Sennelager, Klingelputz, RuhlebenTalbot, Frederick Arthur Ambrose
History
Sixteen Months in Four German Prisons: Wesel, Sennelager, Klingelputz, Ruhleben
Talbot, Frederick Arthur Ambrose
World War, 1914-1918 -- Prisoners and prisons
It was an improvised guard-room. The soldiers sprawled upon the straw
littering the floor, striving to snatch a brief rest before going on
duty, sleepily raised themselves to ascertain the cause of the
disturbance. The sentry told them excitedly the charge upon which I had
been arrested, at which the men turned to blink wonderingly upon the
"Englandische Spion!" I was not sorry when they at last wearied of
gazing upon me as if I were a freak side-show, and sank down to finish
their two hours' rest before going on guard once more.
I had barely recovered my senses when the door again flew open and two
further prisoners were injected into the room in a manner comparable
with my own entrance. They were Hindoo students--young fellows returning
to England after a continental holiday, who had been detained. Both were
somewhat alarmed, but I speedily composed them. Later there was a
repetition of the performance to admit three more Indian students. We
all agreed that the German methods of introduction were decidedly novel
and forceful if informal and unpleasant. The latest arrivals, however,
were detained for only a short while. They were rich in funds and were
equally astute in their distribution of largesse to advantage. Money
talked in their instance to distinct effect. The three of us who were
left maintained a conversation in whispers and finally came to the
conclusion that the best thing we could do was to seek sleep so as to be
fit for the enquiry which was certain to take place.
I was dog-tired, but the authorities, as represented by the sentries,
were not disposed to let us enjoy what they were denied. The guard was
constantly changing and the clattering and rasping of orders and
commands repeatedly woke us up. Then again, at frequent intervals, the
sentry would enter. Seeing me asleep he would either give me a prod with
his bayonet or a smart rap with the butt-end of his rifle to wake me up,
the idea no doubt being to impress upon me the serious nature of my
position and to inflict upon me the utmost discomfort.
Being prevented from sleeping and commencing to feel the pangs of
hunger, having eaten nothing since lunch upon the train, I asked for
something to eat. The sentry was very sorry but related that food was
quite out of the question because none of the officers in charge of me
from whom he could obtain the necessary instructions were available.
[*large gap]
The absence of the officers was explained a little later. They had been
searching for an interpreter, so that I might be put through another
inquisition. This interpreter was about the most incompetent of his
class that one could wish to meet. His English was execrable--far worse
than Chinese pidgin--and he had an unhappy and disconcerting manner of
intermingling German and English words, while either through a physical
defect or from some other cause, he could not pronounce his consonants
correctly.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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