Prisoner Workers.
How far hatred is due to want of knowledge the record of prisoner farm workers on this side proves:
As to the German prisoners, it took both the farmers and the townspeople in the places where they are quartered, and from which they are often motored to the farms, some little time to overcome the widespread prejudice against their employment. But, after a little acquaintance with them, this prejudice appears to be dying down.
“They are one of our mainstays on the farms in West Sussex,” Mr. Herbert Padwick, chairman of the West Sussex War Agricultural Committee, and vice-president of the Farmers’ Union, told me. “Some of them,” he said, “are themselves farmers, and the sons of farmers. Their work looks slow, but in the end, as a rule, we find it very thorough. They used to say, perhaps chaffingly, they wanted to produce the best crop we have ever had in England, because they were sure the Germans would take it. No doubt they really thought it at one time, but they are not, I think, under this illusion any longer.”
Daily News, Aug. 20, 1918.
Most of us have heard favourable comments from farmers and others as to the work of their German helpers. “I think they’ve done jolly well, and they deserve some encouragement,” said one man to me. The idea that all Germans are “Huns” vanishes on personal acquaintance. On the other side prejudices similarly vanish, and I remember seeing an account of how a German farmer took his prisoner helpers for a picnic. Evidently he was allowed considerable freedom with them. There were German Press protests against the picnic.
From the Daily News of September 28, 1918, I take the following:
Here is a “gleaning” worth setting beside those which “Kuklos” gave us yesterday. A West-country farmer of my acquaintance has a brother who is a prisoner in the hands of the Germans at a place not far from Stettin. Recently a number of German prisoners were sent to work on his farm, and among them was a German farmer from that very place. The German told him that he had English prisoners on his own fields in the Fatherland, so that quite possibly this curious exchange may be complete.
It may be mentioned, incidentally, that the English prisoner speaks well of his treatment in Germany. The German, for his part, assured my friend that while his prisoner-hands were not receiving excellent cider, like that which he himself was now allowed, they had plenty of good beer during the harvest.
I have often thought that a widespread distribution of prisoner workers throughout each belligerent country might do more than anything else to allay mutual misunderstanding. In all wars the tendency is to regard the enemies as terrible beings, scarcely even of human shape. To a considerable extent this is due to the fact that all the horror of war is attributed by civilians to the enemy. The soldiers of course know better. But when the civilian finds enemy prisoners good fellows to work with, he cannot often resist the proof of our common humanity. A village girl was telling me lately how the feelings of many had altered since German prisoners had been in the neighbourhood, and especially marked had been the effect upon those who had actually worked with them. “So you’ve changed your mind about them,” she said to a friend who worked with prisoners, and the friend had the courage to answer quite simply: “Yes, I have.” If we all have the courage to change our minds, the peace that comes will be real.