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
Every garment was subjected to a rigorous search. Yet beyond the camera
they found nothing. Certainly no papers were brought to light. There was
no mistaking their bitter disappointment; this was plainly written upon
their faces. My watch was prized open, and the works were turned out,
while a photograph of my wife and children was torn from the back case
to make certain there was nothing concealed behind it. My shirt was
turned over and over and held up to the light to be examined inch by
inch for any traces of secret writing. But all to no purpose. From their
mortification and behaviour I surmised that they had been promised a
monetary reward if they succeeded in finding anything in writing. And
now they were destined to go empty-handed. Thereupon, after laying their
heads together for a few seconds, they drew pencil and paper from their
pockets and commenced writing.
I was suspicious of this action. To me it was palpable that, animated by
the lure of money and foiled in their efforts, they were prepared to go
the length of concocting evidence against me. At least I thought so, and
summarily frustrated their action. I went to them and by the aid of
signs demonstrated that I wanted the paper torn up, or I would ring the
emergency bell and summon the head gaoler to explain matters. They
apparently did not relish my threat, because they instantly tore the
paper to shreds.
By the time their search was completed I was stripped to the skin. But I
was not permitted to re-dress. Evidently they concluded that I might
have pockets in my epidermis because they went over me, inch by inch,
resorting to actions which were wholly unnecessary and which were
revolting, degrading, and demoralising to the last degree--such actions
as one would hardly expect even from the lowest animals. During the
process they joked and gibed freely at my expense.
Although it was with the utmost difficulty I controlled my feelings, my
blood soon began to boil, rapidly rising to fever heat, when they
descended to familiarities and personalities which flesh and blood could
not stand. I suffered their indignities as long as I could. Then unable
to contain my rage any longer I threw myself at the leader of the party,
pitching into him with all the strength I could command. I pommelled him
unmercifully with my fists and he began to howl somewhat vociferously.
His comrades were too surprised at my unexpected rebellion to extend
assistance, until at last their dull wits took in the situation. I
caught a glimpse of one of the soldiers grasping his rifle. I saw it
flash in the air--I remembered no more.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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