At Münich we were taken off of the train and given some food, which consisted of powerful limburger cheese and a little piece of dog sausage, with a hunk of dainty potato bread. In spite of their intense hunger, some of the boys could not possibly go that cheese so, showing resourcefulness, I made a collection of it for I thought it might come in handy later on. I gathered so much that I was a human cheese factory; I had that cheese stuck in my pockets, I was carrying it in my hands and I even had some of it securely put away in my blouse, and all the way from Münich to Landshut, Bavaria, as I had nothing else to do, I ate cheese. Believe me, people knew I was coming a mile away. When that stuff began to get a little tepid, I was a man hated among men; extremely unpopular for a strong reason.
We were turned over to a new set of guards at the Landshut station and I noticed that they had lost my identity since I was not being given special attention, so, I mixed right in with the rest of the prisoners; that is, until they got a good whiff. The new sergeant, after lining us up, walked along the lines calling the names and checking up the prisoners. Standing directly in front of me, with his face about two inches from mine, he gruffly called, “Oberleutnant Haslett.”
“Here!” I bellowed, whereupon the German, getting the full benefit of the cheese, staggered and moved on.
I went up to the old abandoned estate known as “Traunitz,” which was a very beautiful and historic old court. However, we did not live in the castle. I think it was the servants’ quarters we had, for there were twenty-five of us in one room.
Landshut, itself, was a lovely little town; in fact, one of the most beautiful I have ever seen. The feature was the variety of church bells. They were ringing day and night, and the sounds ranged several octaves.
At this camp they took away our American uniforms and gave us old Russian prisoners’ clothes, with a big yellow stripe down the back of the blue uniform. I don’t know whether that “yellow streak” was supposed to have any real significance or not, but anyhow it was there.
At Landshut was imprisoned Captain Jimmy Hall, the James Norman Hall who was prominent for his “Kitchener’s Mob” and other books, and a very famous member of the Lafayette Escadrille. “Jimmy” was quite a character as he hobbled around the place—we all liked his wonderful democracy.
We had only been there a day or so when they began to inoculate us for, I think, every known disease. A big, fat, German Major stood there and in apparent delight, pumped serum into us like a baker fills creampuffs. The worst part was that he stuck us right in the chest. He was a good natured old duck who didn’t seem to take things seriously. Not only did he vaccinate us for smallpox, but he gave us shots of typhoid, para-typhoid, triple typhoid, typhus, tetanus and cholera, and what else I do not know. We were to have five jabs of the stuff, but when I took my first one I decided then and there that when I took the next it would be when I was held and given it by force. I never received another jab, for every time afterwards I went in with the in-going line, and after my chest had been painted with iodine by the Assistant to the Doctor, as the old boy would turn around to fill his needle for the next man, I would quietly step over in the outgoing line, and with many apparent indications of pain, passed to my bunk.
Immediately after this first jab was given and before the pain and fever had a chance to take effect I was mixing around with the boys, having a good time, when in came a Sergeant who, amidst considerable pomp and display, stated that the Captain commanding the Camp wanted to see Oberleutnant Haslett at once. I asked him what the officer wanted to see me about, but he didn’t know and I’m sure I didn’t, although I had a good strong hunch. As I still had my yellow-striped uniform, I put it on and went over. On the way over the Sergeant sympathetically ventured to tell me for fear that I did not know it, that the German officers were terrible men, very strict and stern and it was to my advantage to be very careful and to be absolutely military and courteous.
After considerable palavering around, the Sergeant ushered me in. Seated there at his desk was this potentate, the Commander of the Camp. I hardly knew how to figure him for he was a hard looking customer with the squinty eyes of a Chinaman, the pugnacious pug nose of a bull dog, and the mouth and jaws of an ape. However, he was groomed to the extreme. Take it from me, he was some little fashion plate all of his own. This was a combination, to my mind, extremely difficult to tackle. To be perfectly frank, he almost had my goat to start with. The thing that bothered me most was the charge.