Dyffryn Aled Officers’ camp in North Wales is described in the same account as “an inaccessible, gloomy, mildewed-looking house, with all the windows on the front side covered with iron bars. It was previously used as a private lunatic asylum. The kitchen seemed about the best room in the house.... There are no fixed baths, but the officers’ valets carry hot water from the kitchen for hip baths.” As regards the site of Dyffryn Aled it is only fair to quote the U.S. report: “The situation of the house, in a romantic valley among the Welsh mountains, is fine and healthy.” But even in April, 1916, the bathing arrangements remained primitive: “Each officer has his tin tub.” One would certainly not wish to make any hardship of this, yet it is perhaps as well to recall the U.S. reports on Friedberg and Crefeld in May and April, 1915, respectively. “The room containing the shower-nozzles would ... do credit to a club or hotel of the first class.” (See p. [23].) At Crefeld: “The bathroom which I saw has a floor space of about 1,500 square feet, one-half of which, drained in the centre, lies under some 20 shower nozzles. There are a couple of porcelain tubs in the other half, and in the centre there is a large stove. Hot and cold water is available. The British officers were enthusiastic in their praise of this room.” (P. [13].)
A Friendly Thought.
The “Stobsiad,” the magazine of the prisoners’ camp at Stobs, Scotland, contains in its seventeenth number (Jan., 1918) a friendly thought for the interned “enemy” in Germany. The Y.M.C.A. and the Friends tell them of the ever-increasing need of the interned Englishmen for English books. “Would it not be possible,” the paragraph proceeds, “for our German readers to place English books that they could part with at the disposal of the English prisoners of war, just as here German books have been placed at our disposal. Dr. Elisabeth Rotten’s Committee (Berlin, No. 24, Monbijou-Platz 3) will gladly give further information. It would give us pleasure if many of our readers would fulfil this wish.”
Unreliable Complaints.
“There has been some trouble with correspondence,” we read (Times, l.c.). The Commandant of one camp, while censoring a prisoner’s correspondence, came across a statement that “he slept on a plank bed with a verminous mattress ... the prisoner admitted that he had written a false statement in order to induce his friends to send him more luxuries.” I am reminded of a report from Zossen mentioned by the Swiss Red Cross delegate. I quote from the abstract in the Basler Nachrichten: “It appears that there is much correspondence with sympathetic ink at Zossen. A great deal of iodine, starch and condensed milk are sent to the prisoners by their friends. These materials serve for the preparation of such inks.” We have heard of the use of sympathetic ink in this country. Experience suggests that complaints made by these methods are not to be relied on. The man who likes to tell a tall story is not very infrequent, either amongst civilians or soldiers, and if he can gain notoriety or advantage thereby, the temptation is considerable. Let these be obtained at the expense of the enemy, and the temptation is greater still. Some German girls were being taken back to Germany. An officer asked a girl what kind of a time she had in England. “Oh, dreadful,” she replied at first. It was the way to gain kudos. But generosity came to her rescue, she repented and corrected herself: “No, perfectly lovely,” she said, “everyone was good to us.”[12] There are many on both sides who would not repent, but would make capital out of their interlocutor’s ignorance.
Rumours.
Rumours, of course, still continue. They will continue as long as passions run high. There was a rumour of smallpox at Ruhleben. The English Captain of the Camp wrote to say: “There have been no cases of smallpox since the camp was started here.” There were repeated rumours that parcels were not delivered. An appeal was made to the Director of the Press Bureau by C.Q.M.S. J. R. Wheeler of the 2nd Wilts. Regt., prisoner at Göttingen. He pointed out that these rumours (apparently confirmed by postal officials) were totally unfounded. “Parcels arrive safely, and are issued to men often within a couple of hours of being received from the Post Office.” The same matter is dealt with by U.S. representatives, but, as the Swiss delegate, Arthur Eugster, remarks, even neutral reports are in these days distrusted. In fact, often it is only what seems to confirm the worst suspicions that is believed. Mr. Wheeler points out that “the packing of parcels leaves much to be desired; in many cases a cake is put in a cardboard box and lightly wrapped up in brown paper,” a statement that is important in view of the common opinion that British parcels were specially maltreated. The idea of differential treatment had indeed become an obsession. An example of the extraordinary nonsense that is believed is the story that “on the hospital ship, Oxfordshire, on March 19, sixty wounded British soldiers, the majority of them from the Black Watch and 6th Gordon regiments, were taken out of their cots to make room for sixty Germans ... and that, in addition, the Germans were supplied with fresh eggs and bread, while the British wounded soldiers had only biscuits.” All this was the subject of a grave question in Parliament. The story was, of course, without foundation, but, according to Mr. Tennant himself, “it had obtained widespread credence.” Marvellous indeed is the credulity of war-time.
Prisoner Workers.
How far hatred is due to want of knowledge the record of prisoner farm workers on this side proves:
As to the German prisoners, it took both the farmers and the townspeople in the places where they are quartered, and from which they are often motored to the farms, some little time to overcome the widespread prejudice against their employment. But, after a little acquaintance with them, this prejudice appears to be dying down.