CAPTIVITY AND ESCAPE

CAPTIVITY AND
ESCAPE

By M. JEAN MARTIN
A FRENCH SERGEANT-MAJOR
TRANSLATED BY MISS V. A. RANDELL
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS
LONDON
JOHN MURRAY ALBEMARLE STREET, W
TO HER
THE THOUGHT OF WHOM BROUGHT CONSOLATION TO ME
IN HOURS OF SUFFERING, MOURNING AND SADNESS
TO HER
WHO PROVED MY STRENGTH AND SAFEGUARD
THROUGHOUT DAYS OF TRIAL AND DANGER
TO MY FIANCÉE
I DEDICATE THIS VOLUME
All rights reserved

PREFACE

WE have hitherto had many volumes of the doings of British soldiers at the front and in captivity, but few of our French Allies.

The experiences of Monsieur J. Martin, written originally in French, give such a vivid picture of prison life in Germany, that they have an interest far beyond the mere personal one which his friends and countrymen attach to his name.

Brought up in France, amidst all the charm and culture of the best French-Protestant traditions, he was educated at Rouen, and he finally took his degree in 1912. During his studies he spent much time in England, where his charm of manner and chivalrous spirit made him many friends. Moreover, his love for games brought him in close touch with our people, and he won great credit for himself in the football field.

Before the outbreak of war, while staying with friends in a country village, near one of the garrison towns in Ireland, he made acquaintance with some of our Irish soldiers quartered there at the time; little thinking how soon he would meet them again in very different circumstances, for, by a strange coincidence, he not only found them sharing his captivity in the first prison camp in which he was interned in Germany, but also, owing to his knowledge of the language, he was appointed as interpreter to the British soldiers.

His first thoughts were to help them, by informing their friends of their terrible condition. In this he succeeded, and it was through his post cards that the British public first heard of their most pressing needs.

Many long months elapsed in the prison camp which he so graphically describes, and the intimate details which he gives of the life must prove of intense interest to all who have relations and those dear to them still suffering in captivity.

The reader may imagine the joy of his friends when his telegram reached them one day in July 1915—“Escaped, safe in Holland.” Arrangements were hastily made to enable the escaped captive to travel to London without a moment’s delay.

Worn out and exhausted, he was granted leave to recuperate in Ireland, and in less than a fortnight from the moment of his escape, he alighted from the train at Tipperary, and realised that he had accomplished the “Long, long way” which he had so often joined in singing with the Irish soldiers in the camp.

He was awarded the Croix de Guerre, with a clasp, and his services were honoured by a citation à l’armée—in the following terms:

CITATION.

Le Général Commandant la Xe Armée cite à l’ordre de l’Armée:

Le Sergeant Martin Jean ...

“Blessé au début de la campagne en cherchant à ramener dans nos lignes deux pièces de 75 qui avaient été abandonnées. Fait prisonnier, s’est évadé. Traqué par l’ennemi, se cachant le jour, marchant la nuit, a réussi à gagner la frontière hollandaise puis à l’Angleterre, à bout de forces en raison des privations subies et des marches pénibles.

le 24 octobre 1915
le Général Commandant la Xe Armée,
signé: D’URBAL.”

After a brief period of recuperation, M. Martin was able to enter again into the service of his country, where our best wishes go with him.

HILDA SANDERS.

Charleville Park,
Co. Cork,
September 5, 1917.

AUTHOR’S INTRODUCTION

THE following is an extract from the Author’s Introduction to the French edition of this book:—

With but few exceptions the incidents and scenes described in this book were actually witnessed by the author, although he was not always one of the dramatis personæ. As regards the rest they were all reported to him by personal friends whose good faith is beyond question.

The authenticity of all—even of the strangest—situations here described, as well as the truth and accuracy of the pictures, may be accepted without hesitation.

At the same time the author feels in duty bound to warn his readers to be on their guard against a very common and very human fallacy, which has, in his opinion, given rise to much prejudice in the minds both of prisoners and of their relatives. The world has been too ready to generalise from the complaints or praises of returned prisoners, and to infer from one report—the truth and exactness of which was beyond a doubt—that it was the same at every place throughout Germany.

Such a conclusion is most mischievous and injurious to the interests of those most nearly concerned. The inevitable result is either a fresh access of misery and apprehension on the part of the relatives of the prisoners—or a deplorable falling off of the help sent to those in captivity.

The fact that the author survived those trying days on the field of battle; that in the course of his removal he had the benefit of comparatively humane treatment; that he was kindly tended in a good hospital, must not lead any one to the conclusion that in no case was a wounded man finished off or tortured; or that he never was subjected to grievous privations and brutality during his time in hospital.

The barbarities of the Germans are too well known to call for any further confirmation. Beside the kindnesses occasionally experienced at the hands of Teuton soldiers, must be set innumerable assassinations perpetrated by these savages at the instigation of their officers. The devotion of some hospital nurses must be set against the crimes of violence on French prisoners, as they passed through a railway station, after the battle of the Marne, of which certain German “ladies,” who professed to be members of the Red Cross, were guilty; while certain majors displayed a kindly solicitude, on the other hand, to the deep disgrace of the German people, is the experience of unmitigated and inexcusable brutality.

The aim of the writer has been to set forth some samples of the life of a prisoner, and, above all, to show the French prisoner in his struggle against the two predominant evils, common to all his fellows, hunger and depression—with a weapon which is characteristically French and is the only one of which his jailer is powerless to deprive him—namely, chaff (raillerie).

Harassed by hunger, tortured by the cold, weakened by privation, depressed by misery, overwhelmed by sorrow, persecuted by the relentless hatred of his executioner, the French prisoner always kept his heart up. In spite of all these forms of oppression he is the victor. Under torture he laughs at his executioner: a prisoner, his spirit gives him the mastery over his jailer. His pluck is a thorn in the flesh of the man who strikes him. His laughter sounds like a knell in the ears of the Boche, who cannot understand it, and whose chief characteristic is, as the English say—a complete lack of humour.

With all the energy of their stolidity, those fossilised brutes, the Germans, are carrying on a struggle with this volatile, mocking, mischievous, caustic spirit which they cannot understand. All their attempts to get rid of it are fruitless. The battle of the Marne enabled us to retain unimpaired our old Gallic spirit, and the prisoners cling to it jealously.

In depriving him of liberty and life, the Hun has taken off the clapper of this pure crystal bell—the gay mockery of the Frenchman. He makes him a slave and starves him, and, exulting in this outrage, he thinks that he is safe and rejoices accordingly. The Frenchman will cease to laugh at the doings of the learned bear. The Boche can continue to take himself seriously and the Frenchman cannot chuckle over him, but all of a sudden, to his consternation and profound stupefaction, there comes, he knows not whence, the reckless, bewildering, irritating sound of that accursed bell.

The nimble-witted Frenchman, tricky as a monkey, has got hold of the bell. Without the clapper and with his cheery shout and reckless laughter he has made it ring by swinging it down on the hard head of the Teuton.

I trust that my friend the reader may catch in a favourable spirit some faint echo of this ringing which, although “Made in Germany,” is peculiarly French.

CONTENTS

CHAP. PAGE
[I.] Wounded and a Prisoner[1]
[II.] In Belgium[22]
[III.] A French Victory[36]
[IV.] Saloutez![42]
[V.] The Flea Market[49]
[VI.] The Pillory[64]
[VII.] Revenge on British Soldiers[76]
[VIII.] Central Heating[84]
[IX.] The Wheelbarrows[96]
[X.] The Company Commander[110]
[XI.] The First of May, 1915[123]
[XII.] The Hindoos[138]
[XIII.] My Escape[150]