The Prisoners of Mainz

THE PRISONERS OF MAINZ

BY ALEC WAUGH AUTHOR OF “THE LOOM OF YOUTH,” “RESENTMENT POEMS,” ETC. WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY CAPTAIN R. T. ROUSSEL (P.O.W. MAINZ) LONDON CHAPMAN AND HALL, Ltd. 1919 Printed in Great Britain by Richard Clay & Sons, Limited, BRUNSWICK ST., STAMFORD ST., S.E. I, AND BUNGAY, SUFFOLK.
Fast locked within the citadel, We’ve watched the hours of eight months fare Slowly towards the evening bell, And its cracked summons “clear the square.” We’ve watched the stately barges bear Seawards their teeming casks of wine, As we sat in the alcove there, Sipping the vintage of the Rhine.
Ausgabe queues, we knew them well; Those thin lines straggling out like hair, Receding from an open cell, And finishing, the Lord knows where; And we have felt barbed wire tear Our breeches’ loose and draggled twine; But we’ve known hours less foul than fair, Sipping the vintage of the Rhine.
We could forget the sauerkraut smell, Forget our weariness and share The phantasies that flocked pell mell About our unreal world; and there Across the thick, smoke-laden air Our loom of dreams was woven fine; We tracked illusion to its lair, Sipping the vintage of the Rhine. ENVOI Archie, we neither know nor care What waits for you, what fate is mine. This has been ours—to be friends there, Sipping the vintage of the Rhine. A. W.
Boulogne, December 4th, 1918.

March 21st, 1918.
The small box respirator, like the thirty-nine articles of the Faith, should be taken on trust; one is quite prepared to believe in its efficiency. Countless Base instructors have extolled it, countless memos from Division have confirmed their panegyrics; and with these credentials one carries it on one’s chest in a perfect faith; but one has no wish to put its merits to the test. No one if he can help it wishes to have his face surrounded by elastic and india-rubber, and his nose clamped viciously by bent iron; and for that reason my chief memory of March 21st was the prolonged discomfort of a gas-mask.