As the Russian colonel insisted on acting as interpreter for the deputation, the discussion lasted a quarter of an hour before we understood that the Russians thought it would be better to go out, as they considered it probable that the Germans would treat our refusal as an organized mutiny. But they were, they said, prepared to follow our lead.
Gaskell and I then went off to see Colonel Tardieu. The Colonel said that, though it was best for us to stick together, this case was a purely personal matter, and we could please ourselves—he could only say that he was not going out, and that the French would follow his lead. Gaskell and I determined to compromise by leaving the matter unsettled, but to go out ourselves to Appell very late. In this way it was quite impossible for the Germans to prove organized mutiny against us, and equally impossible to hold Appell outside—and the whole thing could easily be put down to mismanagement and the lack of clear orders on the part of the Germans. This was, in fact, just what happened. The Germans were furious, but we pointed out that they had given so many contradictory orders about Appell that no one knew what they wanted. They soon saw that there was no case against us for organized mutiny and let the matter drop. The real trouble was that the Commandant was a man who was simply made to be ragged.
A more unfortunate choice for a C.O. of a strafe camp can scarcely be imagined. He was a short, thick-set, dark man, about fifty years old, with a large drooping moustache and an inclination to stoutness. His hair was rather long, and he wore pince-nez for reading. I think he had only been C.O. of Fort 9 for a few months when we first went there, but some of the prisoners had known him when he had been in command of another camp, and he then had the reputation for being a kindly and sympathetic commandant. But when we first knew him constant badgering had already soured his temper. He was rather like a schoolmaster whose form has got quite out of control, uncertain whether his boys were intending to be insolent or not. He never pretended to stand on his dignity—his appearance and behavior stamped him as an amiable shopkeeper cursed with occasional fits of violent temper. Then he laid himself open to be ragged so dreadfully. Although he knew little about the business of the fort and had to appeal to his Feldwebel on almost every point, yet he insisted on attending personally to nearly every officer who came into the bureau. The Feldwebel and two extremely efficient N.C.O.'s, known as Abel and the "Blue Boy," really managed the fort.
This reminds me of a most amusing caricature of the Feldwebel ordering the C.O. about, which was pinned up in a conspicuous place. I think a Reclamation or official letter was sent in to General Peters, protesting against this state of affairs, for which the author got a few days' "jug." A few days' "jug" was just a farce. The cells were always full, and when you got your Bestrafung you were put on a waiting list and did your period of solitary confinement from three to five months later. One angry Frenchman wrote a furious Reclamation talking of justice and favoritism because Oliphant had been allowed to do a "slice of four days' jug" out of his turn on the list. A sheaf of Reclamations (the word was pronounced in either German or French way) used to go in daily to General Peters on every conceivable subject, from serious grievances to humorous insults, from a protest against the filthy habits of Bavarian sentries to an accusation of poisoning a pet rabbit.
Some men used to spend a great deal of their time writing Reclamations conveying veiled insults to the Germans. It seemed to me rather a waste of time, but they caused a great deal of amusement. It was just like composing a sarcastically offensive letter to a Government department. Some of the results were really very humorous and witty, but I am afraid they were wasted on the Bosche, and I have no doubt they all went straight into Peters' wastepaper-basket—at any rate, I never heard of a Reclamation having any effect except three days' "jug" for the author of the most offensive ones.
When we first came to the fort we were told that some of the French had sworn an oath to drive the Commandant off his head. He was pretty far gone. Some of the Englishmen, chiefly Oliphant, Medlicott, and Buckley, with these Frenchmen, used to get an enormous amount of amusement by baiting the old fool.
I remember once a conversation something as follows:—
Frenchman.—"The German food you give us is very bad."
Commandant.—"Es tut mir sehr leid, aber——"
Frenchman.—"And it is impossible for any one but a Bavarian to eat it without wine."