I was a soldier the day war was declared. The day before I had been a hard plugging law senior in the University of Southern California—just counting the days until I could realize my life’s ambition—to stand before a court and plead a righteous cause. While like all other young Americans I was happy to serve my country, yet at the declaration of hostilities the thing that hurt me most was the fact that my perfectly good legal education had all gone to the rocks for, as a soldier, I could not see where my law could possibly serve any useful purpose.
It was Lincoln, I think, who said to be prepared for the opportunity so when it knocked it could be accepted. Well, regardless of who said it, my life’s ambition was before me. I had always wanted to plead a righteous cause before a court—but I had never calculated that the righteous cause would be my own. This was nothing more than a court and I was to be the culprit appearing in my own behalf.
The proceedings had all the environment of a rural police court with the solemnity and dignity of the Supreme Court of the United States. So much pomp and red tape I never saw before in my life. The Sergeant went in, clicked his heels together, saluted smartly and proceeded to babble away in German. The Prussian officer looked up from his desk and snarled, whereupon the Sergeant saluted again. Then he faced about, walked four paces toward me, saluted and said with great feeling, “The Captain commanding the camp commands your presence.” I wasn’t a soldier in the true sense of the word. I was an aviator. I was a real snappy soldier once, having been graduated from the New Mexico Military Institute; and, having had some training in the line on the border and in the early training camps. Since my judge seemed so strong on display, I decided to compete for the prize, so I drew my shoulders back, put my chest out and pulled my tummy in. As if by command and, by the numbers, I marched four paces forward, clicked my heels together and in perfect cadence brought my hand forward in a salute. Instead of bringing it down in the ordinary manner, I pushed it straight forward and let it slap loudly against my trousers. It sounded like the snapping of a champion bootblack’s cloth as he finishes the job. The Captain stood, saluted and immediately sat down. I thought he would ask me to have a chair, but it wasn’t being done by the Prussians in those days so I stood there strictly at attention looking directly at him like a tiger ready to spring. In a few moments he got up again, holding a document long and engrossed. Clearing his throat like a Chief Justice about to render an opinion, he proceeded to babble, “Der Deutschen, etc.” After one mouthful, he turned to the Sergeant and the Sergeant stiffened up even more rigidly and began to interpret. I cannot repeat it verbatim, of course, but it went something like this, not vouching for the accuracy of the names: “Whereas, I, Antonio Mark Snicklefritz, Captain of the Imperial German Army, duly appointed and ordained by the Imperial German Government through Wilhelm, Emperor of Germany and Poland, in his own name, am entrusted with the command of and authority over this Prison Camp at Landshut, Bavaria, including all allied prisoners of war therein, do officially, on behalf of the Imperial German Government, inform you, Oberleutnant Elmer Haslett, Amerikaner, an Officer of the Air Service, that the General of the Imperial German Army, Otto von Beetpots, commanding the 37th Army Corps of the Interior, has decreed, ordered, directed and commanded that you have at Karlsruhe, Baden, on or about the fifteenth of October, at night, disobeyed, disregarded and broken all rules pertaining to prisoners of war in that you did wilfully, maliciously, deliberately, and with malice aforethought, attempt to escape the confines of the Prison Camp of the Imperial German Government; and that in so doing you wilfully and maliciously destroyed and otherwise damaged official property of the Imperial German Government in that you dug or otherwise excavated earth from the confines of the Prison Camp of the Imperial German Government. Whereupon, for these acts you were duly sentenced to serve a period of solitary imprisonment, upon which imprisonment you entered and which sentence and imprisonment have not been completed. Therefore, the General von Beetpots, commanding the forces of the Imperial German Government, and of the 37th German Army Corps of the Interior, commands that you immediately, without delay, be placed in solitary imprisonment for the unfulfilled period of your sentence.” This was interpreted in twenty different relays and I swallowed it all and was getting pretty tired of standing at attention, so, as the officer spieled, I would stand on one foot and rest but when the Sergeant started to talk, I would stiffen up and look directly at him for the judge had his eyes focused on none other than the prisoner. During this entire ceremony, the Justice of the Peace did not make one gesture with his hand, simply holding the documents in his hands, standing constantly at attention. He was more like a marble statue holding a scroll.
Then, like most other courts, came the question, “Have you anything to say?” My inoculation was beginning to take effect; my lips were hot and my brow feverish, but, best, my brain was stimulated. I didn’t intend to go to jail without a fight so I pitched my voice as low as possible and sounded off slow and deliberately for I was not talking for time. Indeed it was more than that. The sound of my voice gave me the moral courage I needed. Looking straight at the Prussian and attempting to improvise a proper form for my defense, I started out with something on this order: “I,” and I threw out my chest an extra inch, “Elmer Haslett, First Lieutenant Air Service, Army of the Democratic Republic of the United States of America, having been entrusted as an officer of the Democratic Republic of the United States of America with the duties, rights and responsibilities of an accredited officer am, of course, entitled to all the reciprocal courtesies of captured officers of belligerent nations; and, therefore, as the officially authorized and duly accredited representative of the Democratic Republic of the United States of America I have the honor to submit to the Captain as the officially authorized and duly accredited representative of the Imperial German Government, the following answer to the matter he has just officially communicated to me: That I, Elmer Haslett, First Lieutenant, United States Air Service, do admit that part of the facts of the case stated by the General Commanding the 37th Army Corps of the Interior are true, especially in that I was captured in the act of escaping and had dug a tunnel, thereby indirectly destroying the property of the Imperial German Government, for which I was imprisoned at Karlsruhe. That during this imprisonment, the officially authorized and duly accredited representative of the Imperial German Government was a Feldwebel named Schneider whom I, of course, had the right to presume was vested with the authority of the Imperial German Government for he had given me commands in the name of the Imperial German Government which I, of course, did not hesitate to obey; he had given me privileges which I did not hesitate to accept and when he made any statements or promises, I took them as authorized and final statements and promises of the Imperial German Government. Now, may it please the Captain commanding the Camp to know that on leaving Karlsruhe for this camp, this same Feldwebel officially informed me that I was leaving for a new camp and, furthermore, that my penalty was complete for the reason that misdemeanors against prison camps are local, which, in law is known in Latin as the lex loci, and since my offense had only been an offense against the prison camp at Karlsruhe, the penalty could not be imposed or served in any other camp; therefore, the penalty for my offense was absolutely completed. Therefore, since I, as the representative of the United States of America, had dealt with no one officially except this one representative of the Imperial German Government, I had just as much authority for going to jail at his command as I had for leaving for this new camp at his command and just as much right to believe that no other sentence could be imposed for the misdemeanor committed. Now, may it please the Captain, in view of these statements made to me, if any other penalty is now imposed upon me, it will have to be for acts against the German Government which I have committed at this Camp and unless the Captain representing the forces of the German Government can point out the offense I have committed at Landshut, under his jurisdiction, which warrants my further imprisonment, I, Elmer Haslett, as the duly accredited representative of the Democratic Government of the United States of America, do consider the imprisonment as being without cause and, therefore, absolutely illegal. Therefore, if the Captain as representative of the Imperial German Government cares to imprison me under these circumstances, I here and now protest very firmly before him and request that an opportunity be given me to use the kind offices of the high plenipotentiary minister of Switzerland, the high plenipotentiary minister of Holland, the high plenipotentiary minister of Spain, or other neutral representation in order that efforts may be exercised in my behalf before Wilhelm, the Emperor of the Imperial German Government. And here and now, I request to be put on record before this court that I have claimed these rights under Article 26, Geneva Convention, Article 23, London Agreement, Article 88, Hague War Clause and Section 41, Article 12 of the International Treaty of Paris, all respecting the rights and privileges of prisoners of war. This concludes my answer and I wish to thank the Captain for his kind courtesy in hearing this official protest.”
The old boy was taken off his feet. I couldn’t have pulled an improvised spiel like that in ten years had I not been keyed up with the high, raging fever and when I finished the reaction left me weak. But I was sure that the Captain commanding the camp was fully convinced that I knew what I was talking about. In fact, I felt that I could see it in his very attitude. The Sergeant then told me that the Captain would consider the proposition and let me know his decision. Of course, I could not wait to get back and tell the boys how I had foxed the Germans. I was just in the act of repeating and acting my long spiel to them when the door opened and in came the Sergeant again. “Well,” I thought, “the old boy has come to tell me that I do not need to serve my penalty.” “Oberleutnant Haslett,” he called before everybody, “the Captain commanding the Camp has decided that you will go to jail at once.” Well, believe me, I could have been knocked over with a hair of a feather. The boys gave me the merry titter and the royal ha! ha! I tried to argue with the Sergeant but he evidently had my number. “Come on, pack up,” he said, “and don’t try to pull your line on me. I’m acting under orders.” So amidst considerable personal embarrassment, I picked up my few belongings, which consisted of a note book, a wooden back toothbrush and a quarter loaf of bread, and the Sergeant walked me over to the guard house. Here he assigned me a hard looking guard who, menacingly, loaded up his rifle right before me which, admittedly, had the moral effect intended; and then, followed by every boche youngster in the whole town, I was in military fashion marched down through the old village and lodged in the town jail.
It was a whopper of a jail for a small town. We went up to the third floor back, after locking three steel partitions behind us. We finally came to the cell rooms and the guard rang for the key. After a time, a hoary relic of the Napoleonic days shuffled in and with great ceremony produced the fatal steel and turned the lock. Whereupon I entered and automatically the door was closed behind me. This cell was about five feet wide and eight feet long. The bed, or rather the bunk, folded up against the wall and was locked. It couldn’t be opened, although I tried many times. The walls were blank and bare and at the rear was a high barred window with a slanting projection which made it even impossible to look out. The door was massive steel and one look at it convinced me that I was in a real cell in a real jail and I was a real jail bird. Not having had a great deal of experience with jails, I naturally thought it was a horrible place, although I am told it was really a very nice jail, as far as jails are concerned, but at that, it was damp, musty and cold. At the door was an electric push button and since there were no telephones or servants in attendance, I naturally supposed this was to call the attendant. Practically exhausted from my fever and the long walk, I sat down on a wobbly old stool and stared at the wall, gradually getting physically weaker, but seemingly mentally more alert. In a moment I began to chill and I realized that I would have to lie down. The bed was locked. The cold stone floor was not inviting so I tried to ring the buzzer and I buzzed intermittently for about five minutes. There was no response. It was a desperate situation. I had to lie down and still I must have some covers, so I wedged a match in the buzzer in order that it would keep on buzzing until some one answered. Then from sheer exhaustion and faintness I fell to the floor. This continued buzzing soon brought the attendant up and, believe me, he was very, very peeved. He came in, snatched the match from the push button and began to swear and make some furious ejaculations which I couldn’t understand and it wouldn’t have made much difference anyway. In reply to my insistent demands that he unlock the bed at once, he did nothing but say, “Nein, Nein, Seben Heur,” that is, “No, not until seven o’clock.” I asked him to send for the prison officer but he insisted that the officer would not come up. I told him that I was an officer myself and that I was sick and had a right to see an officer. He did nothing but slam the door in my face. Something told me I was on my last leg and I must soon get out of that place or something would happen that I would never remember. So summoning every ounce of my remaining strength, shivering and chilly, I took my note book and wrote an official protest couched in language not proper for publication, addressing it to the Spanish Minister. It was a last hunch. When I finished, I again put a match in the buzzer. This time the old boy was certainly fierce but he had nothing on me. I was in the same condition myself. Like two tigers we came together. He cautiously opened the door for he knew from my previous attitude that I was liable to make a jump at his throat. Reaching his hand back to his hip so that if I started anything he could draw his gun, he demanded to know what I meant by ringing the buzzer again. Insane with rage and raging fever, I shook my fist in his face and said, “For the Officer,” whereupon I madly slapped myself on the chest and said, “Ich bin ein Officeren Amerikaner,” which, if correct, is to say, “I am an American Officer and must be treated as such.” Reluctantly and disgustedly, he took the paper and started to pull the door shut again. I staggered forward to impress upon him the fact that I needed medical attention at once. Too late, the door was closed. Whether from pure anger or from actual exhaustion, I don’t know, but for some reason I simply went down to take the count.
I was awakened by some one shaking me. Dazed, I got up. Three hours had elapsed. With head swimming, I looked around. Before me was the prison attendant, the Sergeant interpreter of the Camp and the Commanding Officer of the Camp with whom I had had the set-to that morning. It was another court but this time the ceremony on my part was lacking for I sat on the stool. The Captain straightened and again stood stiffly at attention, while the Sergeant interpreted: “I, Antonio Mark Snicklefritz, Captain Commanding the Prison Camp at Landshut, am directed by the General Commanding the German Military District of Münich to inform you, Elmer Haslett, Oberleutnant, Air Service, American Army, that the General has decreed that you be released from solitary imprisonment until further orders.” As expected, the “further orders” never came.
XIII
“COMING OUT”
The modern débutante looks forward with no little anxiety to her “Coming Out.” It is naturally quite an event for, veritably, she is imprisoned, as it were, by the conventions which do not permit her to take her place among the friends of the inner circle until she has been formally presented by her “coming out.”
So, the prisoners of war, even after the Armistice, were withheld from their friends until the “coming out,” which consisted of the formalities of turning the prisoners over to their friends. Naturally, it was quite an event. But, believe me, no débutante could possibly anticipate her “coming out” with the keenness and anxiety that the American prisoners of war could theirs. We, too, had planned it all—of course, not so much as to the clothes we would wear, but more especially as to the things we would eat.