To the end we never discovered the degree of pecuniary interest which Niemeyer exercised in the profits of the canteen—probably fairly considerable; he at all events never let a chance slip of attesting before all and sundry that he was out of pocket on it.
There was one other very clever attempt made about this time—the only occasion besides the Walter-Medlicott affair on which the wire was successfully cut and negotiated in broad daylight. This again was the result of minute observation and carefully timed and cool action, and the cause of its failure could have been as little foreseen.
The performers in this attempt were Captain Strover (Indian Army), Lieutenant Bousfield (Royal Engineers), and Lieutenant Nichol (R.F.C.). They chose what was perhaps the weakest spot in the cordon of sentries—just behind the parcel room. The back of the parcel room—itself strictly out of bounds except during receiving hours—abutted closely on to the outer wire, which consisted of wire netting at the bottom and barbed strands on top to a height of eight feet. Once through this, and provided you had not been observed, it was only necessary to walk airily through the married quarters, out of an open gate, and into the suburbs of Holzminden town.
The three managed to secrete themselves in the parcel room till about mid-day, when the German personnel betook itself to the most important task of the twenty-four hours. Then, with extreme skill and presence of mind, an aperture in the wire netting was made to admit of the passage of their persons and packs, and was closed behind them in such a way as to leave no trace, except upon minute observation, that the wire had been tampered with at all. The solitary sentry on that particular beat saw nothing, and they walked unchallenged into Holzminden, intending to cross the Weser at the town bridge and make north-west for Holland. But at a street corner they came face to face with one of the tin room attendants of the camp, who knew Strover by sight. He allowed them to pass unchallenged, but a little later obviously thought better of it; and from that moment they were aware that their footsteps were being dogged. They hurried on as fast as was possible, but the game was up. In an incredibly short time, so it seemed, the whole of Holzminden was following them, as the children of Hamelin, further down the Weser, once followed the Pied Piper; and after one half-hearted attempt to disarm suspicion by a mild was ist los? (“what’s up?”)—the most appropriate German remark under the circumstances—they chucked their hand in and acknowledged defeat.
It was a striking tribute to the skilful nature of this escape that the hole in the wire was not discovered, in spite of the most elaborate search, till several hours later.
Many other attempts were made, but they were still-born in disaster before the wire was reached: they were made usually at night, and we would be awakened out of our beauty sleep by shouts and tramplings, alarums and excursions, a mild barrage of rifle shots, the flash of a torchlight on to our beds by a harassed Feldwebel conducting an emergency appel, and general vituperation after the manner of the best disciplined army in the world.
One bright spirit conceived the idea of parachuting himself on a windy night with an improvised umbrella from the top floor; but either the wind never reached the required velocity, or else his courage—very excusably—ebbed before the sticking point.
Two others tried to be conveyed out of the camp gates in the muck cart which cleared the camp refuse once in every week. The British orderlies on this fatigue were let into the secret, and as soon as the two officers had crept unperceived by the German sentry into the well of the cart, they were engaged to shovel on to and over them the whole of the unsavoury contents of the refuse bin. It was a sporting venture. To sit possibly for hours at the bottom of a heap of decayed food, lees of tea, used tins, and discarded dish-cloths, on the off-chance of being able to get away when the cart was finally unloaded at the town refuse heaps—the ordinary man blenched at the very proposition. Nevertheless it was only bad generalship which prevented them at least from getting clear of the camp. One officer successfully negotiated his part of the programme and was well hidden away in the cart which was clearing the A Kaserne bin. His partner, however, was noticed by the sentry and the alarm was given; with the result that after much prodding and mild comedy each unfortunate was finally unearthed from his malodorous retreat and the pair were marched off to the cells, taking the bathroom en route as a necessary preliminary.
The star of Niemeyer was in the ascendant. Every fruitless attempt increased his arrogance and intensified his bar-tender style of buffoonery. The devil himself when the alarm was on, he could afford to jest and be merry at our expense as soon as the damage had been put right and the tally of his charges agreed once again with the official register.
“Yentlemen,” he would say, strutting up to a group of us as we were discussing the Strover episode, “you have taught me a lesson. I shall not forget it. You need not trouble any more. Good morning.”