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 Hohenzollern 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
schön!_” 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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