It was a most disquieting time. Each hour was filled with conflicting rumours, and after a while one ceased to believe in any of them. We assumed that on the arrival of the army of occupation we should be liberated, and it appeared as if we should have to wait till then.
On November 17th, however, we were given an official permit to go into the town, and from then onwards the burden of waiting was light.
CHAPTER XIV
FREEDOM
§ 1
After a confinement of eight months it was a wonderful thing to be able to walk through the streets unguarded. To be free again; no longer to be fenced round by barbed wire, to be shadowed by innumerable eyes; no longer to be under the rule of an arrogant Prussian. It was almost impossible to grasp it; that we were free, free. Every moment I expected to feel a heavy hand fall on my shoulder, and to hear a gruff voice bellow in my ear, “Es ist verboten, Herr Lieutenant.”
And this sense of unreality was increased by our reception outside the gates. Whether the children had been given a half-holiday in honour of their recent naval operations, I do not know, but it did seem as though the entire infantile population had assembled outside the citadel; and no sooner did an officer appear than he was surrounded by urchins of both sexes, up to the age of twelve, all yelling for biscuits and chocolate. It was an absurd and pitiable sight; and it was terrible to think that a people had so far lost their self-respect as to allow their children to beg for food from their enemies. It was often quite hard to get rid of them; they would hang on to an arm or to the end of a coat, and simply refuse to let go till actually forced.
Considering that the nation, of which it formed a part, had just sustained a defeat practically amounting to unconditional surrender, Mainz presented a spectacle of strange jubilation. I had expected to find an atmosphere of a more or less passive resignation, of disappointment only partially relieved by the cessation of hostilities; whatever the individual might feel, officialdom surely, we had thought, would assume a woeful countenance. But instead of that we found a town robed as for a carnival. Flags were hung from the windows of every house, the children in the streets waved penny ensigns, and every few minutes a lorry full of troops would clatter through, the guns decked with banners, the men shouting and singing. It was as though a victorious army were returning home, and after all it was only right that the men should receive a proper welcome. For over four years they had waged on many fronts a war that had conferred much honour on their arms. They had been at all times brave and resolute. They had fought to the very end. It was not their fault that Germany had been steeped in ruin.
The reception we received from the civil population was very friendly. At first it was only with the most extreme diffidence that we entered cafés and restaurants, but we soon saw that there was little or no animosity against us. In the streets civilians were always ready to show us the way, and displayed no resentment at our presence amongst them. In the cafés German soldiers even came up and spoke to us. There was such general delight at the war being over, that the Germans felt it impossible to harbour any ill-will against any save those whom they held directly responsible for their sufferings, and it was typical of their attitude that, when a German soldier introduced himself, his first remark was, “I am not a Prussian.”
The question of the army of occupation was very keenly discussed, and everywhere was to be found the same opinion, “We do not want the French.” It seemed as if that hereditary hate was as keen as ever; for the English and Americans they entertained very neutral emotions. But the French were too nearly neighbours; and it seems as if only the long passage of uneventful years could assuage this spirit of vindictiveness, that has been artificially fostered in the nursery and in the schoolroom.
But between us and the Germans, at any rate in the Southern States, there is no reason why this hate should outlive the war. That is, of course, if the attitude of the people of Mainz can be taken as in any way representative of the other Rhine towns. For we could not have been more hospitably received. There are those, of course, who will say, “Ah, but they were pulling your leg, they were only trying to see what they could get out of you. You spent money in their cafés, that was what they wanted; and you gave them chocolate and soup, that’s what they were after.” I have not the slightest doubt that a great many Germans attached themselves to us solely for ulterior purposes. But as a whole I believe that the civilians in Mainz were quite honestly pleased to be able to do for us anything they could, as a sort of proof that they had altered their Government, that the war was over, and that they had no wish to nourish any ill-feeling against us. And those who see behind this display of friendship the calculated deceit of a political stunt, are, it seems to me, merely seeing their own reflections in the looking-glass of life.