During the years 1916 and 1917, and for the first part of 1918, Germany possessed one god and one idol. The god was Emperor William and the idol was Hindenburg. It will be remembered that at the outbreak of the war Hindenburg was a retired general leading a peaceful life at Hanover. Thence the Emperor recalled him from retirement and relative obscurity and gave him the command of the German forces operating in Eastern Prussia. At that time the Russians occupied part of the Baltic Provinces. The Emperor, in examining the theses made by the different German generals, discovered that Hindenburg, a quarter of a century previously, had treated in his thesis the subject of an invasion of Eastern Prussia. He then sent for Hindenburg and committed to him the task of liberating the eastern territory from the occupation of the Russians.
We all know that Hindenburg accomplished this task victoriously and acquired for himself, particularly as the result of the famous battle of Tannenberg, a fame which surpassed that of any other Prussian general. Pressure was then brought to bear on the Emperor by his entourage with the object of placing Hindenburg at the head of the general staff; and, as a matter of fact, by a movement of the hand, Emperor William dismissed Von Falkenhayn, who was at that time chief of the general staff, and replaced him by Hindenburg.
The victory of Tannenberg was followed by several others, including that of Rumania, and then it was that the population of Berlin, no longer able to restrain their enthusiasm for Hindenburg, decided to erect in his honor a colossal monument on one of the public squares. The testimony of popular admiration took the shape of a wooden statue, forty-one feet in height, built at the end of Victory avenue, at the foot of the immense column known as the Victory Column, erected after the war of 1871 to commemorate the victory of the Germans over the French.
Opportunity was given to me on several occasions in the course of the outings I was allowed to make during the last year of my captivity, to observe with what veneration the people surrounded this misshapen, inartistic monument standing in the centre of the Tiergarten. Twice every week, as I have previously explained, I was privileged to take a walk around the garden, under the escort of a non-commissioned officer, and on no occasion did I neglect to walk towards this statue. A large number of people, particularly old men and women, accompanied by young children, crowded at the foot of the column near this immense wooden image. They would look at it, examine it with the air of people admiring its proportions and artistic qualities. But what was more curious and interesting was the means adopted to collect charity funds through this new Trojan horse. A scaffolding surrounding the statue furnished means for all to climb to the level of the head and contemplate from this close view the severe features of the great general.
At the foot of the scaffolding there was installed a species of ticket-office where one could purchase nails at a cost of one mark each (twenty-five cents). The purchaser of a nail was handed a hammer and accorded the privilege of driving a nail into the statue. The children particularly showed a great love for this sport. They could be seen crowding noisily round the ticket-office awaiting their turn, grasping in their little hands the silver coin with which to buy the nail. The ceremony of driving in the nail assumed a special character of patriotism. Hence it was quite a sight to see with what pride a child would return from performing the operation amidst the plaudits of the old men and the mothers. In this way large sums of money were levied and it is pertinent to say that Hindenburg was literally riddled with nails. One could choose the particular spot wherein to drive the nail–the feet, legs, body, arms, or head. I remember that copper-headed nails were driven into the head, copper not being so scarce at that period as it became afterwards.
The art reviews of Berlin never dwelt at any length on the artistic qualities of the monument. As a matter of fact, it was an ugly object. One day, however, a violent controversy was started in the newspapers between two sculptors as to which of the two was the originator of this genial idea. What an ambition!
It is no exaggeration to state that the popularity which Hindenburg enjoyed in Germany at this epoch was greater even than the veneration with which the Emperor himself was surrounded. Indeed, several non-commissioned officers often told me confidentially that Hindenburg’s popularity was very much greater than that enjoyed by the Emperor. The ascendency Hindenburg acquired over the imagination of the people never, in fact, ceased to disturb the mind of the Emperor. For this reason, at each new victory achieved under Hindenburg, Wilhelm would hasten eagerly to the battlefield and from the point where the victory was won he would flash a telegram to the Empress with the studied object of impressing on the minds of his subjects that his was really the strategic genius responsible for the success achieved. So much was this true that whenever a military operation developed itself in favor of Germany, either in Galicia or in Rumania, we knew how to predict, a day or two ahead, that a sensational despatch from the Kaiser to the Empress would be published in the newspapers. Rarely were we mistaken.
Among the prisoners of British nationality at the Stadtvogtei was one who, on several occasions, was suspected of exaggerated sympathies for the cause of Germany. He had become very unpopular, and many British prisoners refused to speak to him or have anything to do with him whatever. One day Mr. Williamson, to whom I have referred in a previous chapter, was called into the office to receive a package of provisions which had just arrived from England. After his package had been examined, another parcel was offered to him with the request that he carry it to the Englishman–the one I have referred to as being under suspicion–whose cell was situated on the same floor as that occupied by Williamson. The latter, who spoke a little German, formally refused to take charge of the package, saying to the non-commissioned officer, and in the presence of others: “I will not take the package, for I do not wish to have anything to do with this bloody German.” Williamson then left the office, taking with him only his own package.
The incident caused some commotion, as the non-commissioned officers reported the unsympathetic remark made by one prisoner towards another. On the following day all the prisoners of British nationality were requested to go down to a cell on the ground floor, and there the officer in charge of the prison addressed to us a very severe remonstrance regarding the incident. I recall one remark in particular. It was to the effect that “he did not venture to hope that we would openly renounce our sympathies towards Great Britain, but he would not tolerate for one instant any unkindly, disrespectful remark against Germany.” He cited the case in particular of Mr. Williamson and also that of Mr. Keith who, he said, was born in Germany, who had profited from Germany’s hospitality, who had received his education in the Public schools of the empire and who, nevertheless, every time an occasion offered itself, manifested his antipathy towards the country of his adoption. The officer finally menaced us with the remark that whoever was guilty in the future of disrespectful remarks would be severely punished.
This attitude of Officer Block created further prejudice amongst the British prisoners, and two of them, whose names I will not mention, organized a huge joke at his expense. Through a very clever stratagem, one of the pass-keys was juggled from one of the non-commissioned officers. This key would open every one of the doors inside the prison, but it would not open the outer door. With the aid of this key the two prisoners in question conceived the idea of unmercifully teasing the officer.