On one occasion all officers of Irish nationality were ordered to attend on the commandant. At that time there were only two of us, but we managed to extract a little amusement from the interview. For instance, he could not be brought to understand how it was possible that Irishmen, either from the north or south, could serve in English regiments, since the greatest animosity existed between the Irish and their English oppressors. We were informed that, since we were Irish, arrangements were being made to transfer us to another camp, where conditions would be very much better. We thanked the commandant, but in the end we never heard any more about it. Obviously this was an attempt to tamper with our loyalty.
Soon after our interview with the commandant the whole camp received orders for inoculation for typhus, which was immediately carried out by the visiting doctor—the same little upstart before described, who took great joy in jabbing the needle as roughly and deeply as possible, so that most of us were quite sore for some time afterwards.
The majority of the officers tried to pass the time acquiring languages, several studying Russian, and nearly all learning French or perfecting themselves in that language. A few took up German, taking lessons in the latter from French officers, some of whom spoke German perfectly. People at home might think that those officers who did not avail themselves of apparently so good an opportunity of learning foreign languages, and in so doing passing many of the weary hours, were extremely foolish; but, believe me, it is quite a different matter to study at home or at college, where one can be more or less quiet, to studying as a prisoner in Germany, where it is extremely difficult, if not almost impossible, to get a moment’s peace. Let the reader imagine, if he can, trying to learn a foreign tongue with the whole of the rest of the people in his room babbling aloud other languages. Officers and their instructors were usually to be seen seated on their beds, for lack of other places, in a close and stuffy atmosphere, with a continuous babble going on on all sides. Say, for instance, you were learning German, when on the next bed, not three feet away, somebody else would be repeating French aloud. On the bed on your other side a Russian lesson would be in progress, and perhaps over in the far corner of the room a lot of Frenchmen of the Foreign Legion would be endeavouring to keep up their Arabic, whilst grouped around the hot-water pipes a heated discussion, either in French or English, as to the probable duration of the war, peace terms, etc., would be going on.
Talk about the Tower of Babel; it could not have been in it. To add to the general distraction, it must be explained that the doors of the sleeping-rooms were all pierced by a small glass window-lattice, through which the sentries placed inside the building were continually watching us. You would look up suddenly from whatever you might be doing, either studying, reading, or performing your toilet, to find a grimy face pressed against the lattice, furtively watching your every movement. Naturally the very sight of their ugly faces in such close proximity made one’s internals seethe in a hopeless longing to get at them.
I have already stated that the camp at Munden was situated directly on the banks of the river Weser, on the other side of which ran a railway line, along which troops both going and coming could often be seen. On one occasion some of these troops, thinking they would indulge in a little sport, began firing at the camp from the train, which ran at that spot up a very steep gradient, and a bullet actually passed through a window of one of the rooms and lodged itself in the plaster of the wall opposite. Fortunately for the prisoners, no one was hit; but that was not the fault of the Boches. Firing at prison camps containing helpless prisoners would certainly appeal to the humour of the German mind. Of course complaints were made to the commandant, but, as usual, nothing came of them.
Continual small drafts of prisoners were always arriving at the camp, accompanied by a German officer and guard. One of these officers, seeing a group of British seated in the eating-hall, came up very politely and expressed his sorrow at seeing them there, but told them to cheer up, as the war would soon be over. As a matter of fact he said, “We shall be in London by six weeks from now.” Note that this remark was made in February 1915! He also went on to say that London was already partially destroyed. He was not bragging, and seemed quite a decent sort of chap; but he really thought that what he said was true. It is the most extraordinary thing how the German Government, in conjunction with their press, have been able to make their people believe any lie, even to the extent that London was in flames and the populace living on rats, and that seaports such as Southampton and Portsmouth were destroyed by gunfire from their fleet. This latter was told to me in all faith at the fortress of Ingolstadt in 1916.
Great excitement was one day caused amongst us at Munden owing to the fact that a Russian orderly had been seen carrying from the canteen a plate on which two fried eggs sat in state. He had not proceeded fifty yards before he was surrounded by officers, quite off their heads at the sight of two eggs, inquiring as to where he got them, if there were any more, and how much he would take for them, officers bidding twenty or thirty marks for the eggs. But, unfortunately, the orderly was true to his trust. It appeared that they had been procured as a special mark of favour from the commandant to a Russian general who was suffering from stomach trouble, and who had not been able to eat anything solid for a very long time. Of course every one rushed to the canteen to order eggs, but there was nothing doing, the sight of the eggs lingering in our memories as a beautiful dream.
It is a very difficult task to write any sort of interesting account of life in general at this camp, since every day was more or less the same as the preceding one. Few things came to vary the dreary monotony, so the reader must excuse if I recount certain events that are to me of extreme interest, but may be boring to the casual reader. For instance, I propose to tell you in a sketchy manner of how a certain British officer escaped from Munden, since it was the only escape during my imprisonment there. It has been recorded before of how I had been removed from my room to the hospital on the ground floor. Another occupant of the hospital in the next bed to myself was a British subaltern who has lately made a successful escape from Germany, so I have no hesitation in recording his plucky effort, having obtained his permission to do so.
At the time of which I write this officer was suffering from an awful skin disease, probably caused by eating the bad pork already described. His lower limbs were practically a running sore, yet he made a successful escape from the camp swathed in bandages. Unluckily he and some three or four Russian officers who escaped with him were caught, after being out some five or six days, and within seventy miles or so of the Dutch frontier, having failed principally from exhaustion. The means of escape was engineered through an old disused air-vent, which led from the factory to some outbuildings, passing over the heads of the sentries and the two fences of wire which surrounded the camp.
The Russians planned to pierce the wall of the factory opposite this air-vent, and if possible use it as a means of passing the sentries unseen. It appears that one of the Russian senior officers had obtained leave to hire a piano and use one of the rooms as a general music-room. The piano was placed against the wall of the factory directly opposite the spot calculated to strike the disused air-vent, and left in that position for some time, in order to divert attention. Then, when a number of musicians were playing all kinds of instruments and tunes, the wall behind the piano was gradually picked away, and although the Boches were continually in and out of the room they never suspected anything. The picking of the wall was carried out with the only instrument available, i.e. an ordinary small pocket-knife.