In the prison camps of Germany; a narrative of "Y" service among prisoners of war

Contents

CHAPTER PAGE

Foreword vii

I. The Flying Squadron 1

Foreword

Four years spent in Germany during the War in service to the Allied and American prisoners of war there, brought many interesting experiences and innumerable opportunities for observation worthy of recording in more or less permanent form. Arriving in Berlin in August, 1915, to take up prisoner-of-war work as Secretary of the War Prisoners' Aid of the Young Men's Christian Association, the writer, although an American, was able to continue in the service uninterruptedly until the conclusion of the War. Another eight months after the armistice was signed were spent in service to the Russian prisoners of war still held in Germany, the author finally leaving Berlin for the States on June 10, 1919. Urged by associates and friends to put these experiences in writing, he finally consented, daring thereby to add another one to the thousands of war books which have already appeared, in the hope that the uniqueness of the experiences would prove of genuine interest to readers.

Lest a wrong impression be created as to the extent of the service actually rendered on behalf of the AlHed prisoners of war, attention is called at the outset to the following facts regarding the numbers and character of the prisoners among whom work was done. With some 2,800,000 prisoners of war, representing twenty-nine different nationalities, distributed in 150 camps and several thousand working detachments, and with never more than thirteen secretaries, the maximum staff of workers permitted, it is obvious that all prisoners could not have been reached. Most humbly and frankly the writer admits that much was done; but in contrast to that which should have been done it was a discouraging and well-nigh insignificant little. In fact, the efforts put forth and the results accomplished were so infinitesimal in the light of the need that discouragement was ever prevalent.

The story of the work as told herein, with its many details of services rendered, may create the impression that all were served, but such was far from being the case. Many, no doubt, were viii IN THE PRISON CAMPS OF GERMANY

benefited directly or indirectly, but many more perhaps never heard of the work or knew that such a relief work was being done on their behalf. It was impossible, with the resources and men available and permitted, to do anything at all commensurate with the needfe and the demands. The service rendered stands on its own merits.

The Eleven Y Secretaries Comprising the Flying Squadron

H. R. H. The Crown Princess of Sweden in Booth Exhibiting Articles Made by Prisoners of War

CHAPTER I THE FLYING SQUADRON July 3, 1915, was a memorable day at least for eleveE American

Y M C A secretaries who sailed on that date from New York for England to engage in war relief work. The group was known as "The Flying Squadron"; their task, relief work on behalf of the prisoners of war in England and Association work for the British soldiers; their term of service two months. Before departure much was said concerning the sacrifice which the individual secretaries were making in giving up their summer vacations for this service to Ejiropean brothers then in awful combat.

The "Squadron" was the result of a European trip of investigation in the warring countries by Dr. John R. Mott in the fall of 1914. Inspired by what he had seen to the conviction that relief work, especially on behalf of the hundreds of thousands of prisoners of war, was an imperative and Christian necessity, he immediately proceeded with the organization of such work. Early in 1915 Mr. C. V. Hibbard and Dr. A. C. Harte were sent over as advance agents to investigate possibilities of service and to secure necessary permissions for the work. Two camp secretaries were quickly set to work, and in response to their direct appeals for men the "Squadron" was sent as the first contribution of the American

Y M C A movement to the European men under arms. Little did one realize that these men were to become the forerunners of several thousand other Association workers to be sent overseas in the subsequent years of the Great War.

Those who composed the personnel of this "Flying Squadron" were all moved by the high ideals of Christian service which the opportunity offered. How utterly remote at that time was the thought that America, too, would become involved in the struggle ! Through years of discussion on the moral equivalent of war, or through indifference occasioned by lack of contact with the dangers of war, Americans were inclined to condemn war and its cruelties, and especially its terrible wake of suffering and agony inflicted upon the innocent ones — ^mothers, wives, and children of the men giving their very hfe-blood at the front for the cause which they regarded as righteous and their own. At that time America had httle, if any, interest in the principles at stake. Ignorant of and unsophisticated in European diplomacy and political intrigue — our knowledge was largely drawn from a few more or less elementary histories of high-school or college days — Americans could not comprehend the antagonism and hatred, the jealousies and ambitions, that were liberated by the fateful shot of Serajewa. We of the "Squadron" utilized the ocean trip in endeavoring most assiduously to brush up on European history by reading, as part of the training in preparation for the overseas work, the books comprising our library. These books included Hazen's "History of Europe since 1815," Lowell's "Government of England," Poincare's "How France Is Governed," and von -Billow's "Modem Germany." The fact that we were reading these books served as a frank confession of our ignorance of European life and history.

At the time of our departure the position of America was one of neutrality, for as yet America had no part or parcel in the struggle which was shaking Europe to its very foundations and which was threatening to overthrow many of the institutions laboriously built up through centuries of bloody history. The invasion of Belgium and the sinking of the Lusitania had aroused a wave of protest and sentiment against Germany, but as yet this had hardly crystallized into a conviction. They were horrible incidents of the war and were to be expected, so it was assumed, as Sherman's hackneyed and famous slogan "War is hell" was nonchalantly repeated by way of explanation.

Impartial service to the combatants on both sides was the "Squadron's" desire and function. All were actuated by the highest ideals of service, but we were without conception of the real meaning and horrors of modem warfare, and were woefully ignorant of all that awaited us in the coming months. Thus we arrived in England early in July, 1915. Some proceeded immediately to the prisoner-of-war camps where civilian Germans who had lived in England and who were caught at the outbreak of the ■ War were interned. Others of the "Squadron" were assigned to the British Y M C A staff for service on behalf of the thousands of Tommies crowding into the vast and numerous training

THE FLYING SQUADRON 3

camps — Tommies who a few days or weeks previous were awkward, raw recruits, but who were soon to battle with the pick of the trained, disciplined, and goose-stepping German soldiers and to demonstrate that they were a fair match for them, in spite of their comparatively short period of training.

On the night of our landing in Liverpool we were confronted for the first time in our trip by war-time regulations. True, before landing we had to run the gauntlet of a rather strenuous passport examination, which had been a long drawn-out and tiresome procedure. We planned to leave Liverpool early in the morning for London and had, therefore, retired rather early. About midnight we were aroused by a knock at the door and told that we had failed to report at the police headquarters in accordance with the regulations of the place. These required that all aliens arriving in any port town of England must report at the police headquarters within twenty-four hours after arrival. This we had neglected to do, for we had seen no notice to that effect, nor had we been informed of the existence of such a regulation. As we were leaving early in the morning there was no time to register at the police headquarters before our departure, so nothing remained but to get up, dress, and proceed to the police station, which we found after considerable search through the dimly lighted streets. After this experience we invariably made it a point to inquire as to existing regulations whenever we came to a new city or town. Naturally we laughed at the whole incident as more or less of a good joke on us. What a bane of our existence were these reports to police headquarters to become for some of us in the subsequent months!

Those of us who proceeded to the prison camps had had visions of the possibilities for service which a camp would present, but none of us were prepared for what actually confronted us in the way of opportunities. Our most sanguine hopes had not conceived of such possibilities. Visions of Libby Prison conditions such as some of us had were quickly dispelled as we visited these camps in England. Food conditions were good, organization efficient, equipment as good as in many of the mobilization camps for the British Tommies which we had seen. The lack of privacy and the monotony of the camp, both typical of prison life, were the features hardest to bear. In most of the camps we visited the prisoners had begun to organize various activities, such as schools, theatricals, athletics, and religious services, but all these were in an embryonic stage and needed assistance, outside help, and encouragement. It was our task to stimulate interest and larger participation, as well as to provide such supplies as were needed for the development of the work. New activities were frequently promoted, such as garden contests, ways of developing the competitive spirit in athletics, promotion of work for the sick, organization of handicraft departments, and the like. Our function as camp secretary was largely that of organizer, promoter, and friend, the connecting link, as it were, between the prisoner of war and the camp officials, as well as the outside world.

Prison camp life implies monotony, stagnation, despair. Various agencies, such as the Red Cross and allied organizations of the homeland, worked from a distance, sending needed supplies, but confining themselves largely to food and clothing relief. The Association which had sent us to the camps attempted to do its work through the personal contact of its representatives with the prisoners themselves. This naturally implied a work within the camps. To help break the monotony of camp life, to keep the men active in body, mind, and soul, and thus to avoid stagnation and despair — these were the aims and the scope of the work of the camp secretary. The hearty and sincerely grateful cooperation of the prisoners in the proposals made by the secretaries was evidence that this type of service was appreciated and needed. Within the camps the men seemed to have no incentive unless it were the hope of escape. Time hung heavy. The barbed wire barricades on all sides, depriving them of liberty, were depressing and cruelly exasperating. Many of the prisoners in the course of years of such confinement fell victim to what was called by them "barbed wire sickness." This manifested itself in various ways. Personally, I have seen prisoners who were the best of friends in the early days of imprisonment develop into the most bitter enemies, even threatening to murder each other. Insanity and mental derangement were not uncommon, caused not so much by maltreatment as by the mere fact of deprivation of liberty and uninterrupted intimate association with the other prisoners of war, with no chance of ever being alone.

Civilian prisoners of war, men interned because of nationality,

THE FLYING SQUADRON 6

suffered most intensely. There seemed to be no justification whatsoever for their imprisonment. It was not an uncommon occurrence to find such a civiUan whose son was fighting in the army of the country which had interned him. The expatriation of the famihes of these men, which accompanied the internment was equally, if not more, cruel. Women and children, often bom in England but German by virtue of marriage, unable to speak a word of German and not knowing a soul in Germany, were thus sent to Germany simply because they were German citizens. On the other hand, English women and children in Germany were similarly expatriated. ,The majority of the interned men had committed absolutely no offense. They were interned because they happened to have been born German or English respectively. Torn from home, all family ties broken, their business ruined or confiscated, behind barbed wire for years, and finally shipped to the land of their birth, more or less a strange land due to the many years of separation — such was the cruel fate of many a man.

The writer recalls the pitiful appeal of such a repatriated man who called at the office. He implored us for some kind of work — anything, if only dishwashing, whereby he could at least make enough to live. He had been a university professor prior to his internment. It was natural that men placed under such trying circumstances should have welcomed the services which the Y MCA through its camp secretaries endeavored to render. Similarly, the military prisoners of war, men captured at the front or taken in sea battle, welcomed most whole-heartedly the efforts to help them make their enforced imprisonment interesting and, above all, profitable for each man. The writer will not take time to enter into details here regarding his work among the Germans in the British prisoner-of-war camps. It was work well wprth while, and one which proved of tremendous significance on entering Germany to engage in similar work for the Allied prisoners of war. Nothing proved of greater value than to be able to relate to the German authorities the work done on behalf of German prisoners in England, and it served to open many doors in Germany for the promotion of our work among the Allied prisoners which would otherwise no doubt have remained closed. In England the offer to work on behalf of the German prisoners of war was usually well received by the authorities; in the camps themselves we were given most liberal support and permissions.

The transfer of civilian prisoners to the Isle of Man, where some 30,000 were to be interned, led to our desire to go there. The British authorities gave us all necessary permissions, and carrying these and a letter of recommendation from the British War Ministry, one of the members of the "Flying Squadron" and myself proceeded to the Isle of Man. We were to investigate the possibilities of service to the German prisoners of war, and to organize the work if conditions warranted.

However, we very soon discovered that the situation was not as simple as we had thought. We were most courteously received by the secretary of the Governor, but after ten days' futile effort to secure his or the Governor's sanction to visit the camps, left completely baffled by the official and diplomatic maneuvers of the authorities. It seems that the Isle of Man has a type of home rule, and, while a part of Great Britain, is more or less independent so far as its own affairs are concerned. Although some 30,000 German civilians, the vast majority of all those held in England, were interned on the Isle of Man, the Young Men's Christian Association was never able to secure permission to carry on its work there.

Chapter II First Impressions Of Berlin

My contract called for two months* service. I was, furthermore, scheduled to return to my regular position at the University of Kansas in time for the opening of the term, about the middle of September. Therefore the call which came to me to proceed to Germany, while welcome, was still difficult to accept. To do so implied remaining in Germany for the duration of the War, or at least for an indefinite period of time. True, in 1915 few people conceived it possible for the War to continue a year longer, certainly not several years more. Desire for additional experience, and the pull of the opportunities in the new field as indicated by the great need, however, helped to bring an affirmative decision. Especially was this the case when headquarters reported they would adjust matters with my Board of Directors, to whom I was obligated to return in the fall.

Instructions given me called for my departure for Germany via Holland on a Monday; but on coming to the steamship company's office to purchase my ticket, I was informed that a special permit from the British Home Office to leave the country was necessary before they could sell me a ticket. Nothing daunted at this difficulty, I serenely inquired of the agent the location of the office, and asked how long the shipping office would remain open, thinking to return during the afternoon after having secured from the Home Office permit to leave that night. The man in charge had a good laugh, informing me that it would take at least three days to get the necessary permit; furthermore, that the Home Office closed at noon and that I would have to postpone my visit there until the following morning. Even then I little realized what was in store for me. Next morning I called at the Department for Permits, which was temporarily housed in wooden barracks in the courtyard of the Home Office building. Hundreds of Dutch, French, and Belgian people were there before me, apparently on a similar mission. My expectations of getting through quickly dwindled rapidly. I had to wait an hour and a half before my name was finally called as a signal that it was my turn. I was then conducted by a man on duty to one of the officials in charge. Said ofiicial proceeded to "pump me dry" concerning my mission, my family history, the object of my trip to Holland, etc. After careful notation of all facts had been made and a close scrutiny of my passport completed, I was politely instructed to return on Friday, three days later, for my passport and for information as to whether a permit for my trip would be granted. In the meantime my passport was retained at the Home Ofiice. The American Embassy in Lonidon did everything possible to facilitate my trip, making arrangements, among other things, for my passage through Holland and into Germany. Finally, on Saturday night, all was in readiness for my departure. I left via Tilbury Docks, London, for Flushing.

It was one thing getting into a foreign country as a neutral, but quite a different thing getting out again. I had supposed that the detailed scrutiny to which I had been subjected at the Home Office before the permit to leave the country had been granted completed the necessary red tape, but such was far from being the case. On arrival at the railway terminal leading to the docks all passengers had to run the gauntlet of four different officials before they were even permitted to approach the pier.

My fellow-travelers were largely women and children, the families of Germans who had been interned. Such swarming and crowding as we tried to hurry the tedious process of inspection of passports and baggage! No one was allowed to take more than ten dollars in English gold, and naturally no letters for a third person whatsoever. All written and printed matter was scrutinized most cautiously.

With baggage examined and approved, and our passports properly endorsed, we had to submit all for final inspection to two other officials before we were permitted to board what I supposed was the steamer, but which proved to be merely a tug. This we discovered later was to take us out to the steamer lying at anchor somewhere in midstream. On board the tug all was dark and quiet, for there had been a Zeppelin raid the previous night. There was none of the shouting and bustle ordinarily attendant upon the going to sea of a passenger steamer. After

FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF BERLIN 9

all passengers had passed the inspection and were aboard the tug, we steamed out into the darkness with as little noise as possible. Soon we sighted the big, dark hulk of our steamer looming ever larger as we approached. We drew up alongside and then were transferred from tug to steamer, the whole process being carried on in mysterious quiet. It was two a. m. when I finally rolled into my bunk, just four full hours after having come to the pier.

All along one had been fully conscious of the danger of the trip. When I purchased my ticket it was with the understanding that I relinquished all claims for damages in case of accident or death in transit. The precautions as to the location and use of life-saving belts, which were in evidence everywhere on board ship, forced upon us the reahzation that submarine danger was imminent. On the trip over we passed many war vessels and in pulling into the Dutch port we had to pass between two Dutch warships, apparently guarding the entrance to the harbor. Silent and vigilant, day in and day out, they did duty, keeping watch that Holland's neutrality should in no way be violated by the belligerents. On the sand dunes along the shore we saw many sentinels silhouetted against the sky in silent and solitary watchfulness for enemy craft. Thus war inflicts heavy expenditures on neutral countries, which must inaugurate stringent measures for safeguarding their neutrality.

A hurried three days were spent in Holland, during which I visited one of the large refugee camps, where Belgians who had fled before the German invasion were housed. Several hundred thousand Belgian refugees were thus taken care of by the Dutch people, who taxed their resources to the limit in order to provide for these Belgian men, women, and children; these were absolutely destitute, home and household had been destroyed and they now possessed little more than the clothing on their backs. In the camp visited one learned that every week twelve to fifteen babies were bom, and one could not help but wonder what their fate would be. The large barracks were partitioned off with carpetbagging into individual rooms which served as homes for Belgian families, and here these babes were bom. The camps were equipped with school, church, and amusement facilities. Food and clothing were largely furnished by the Dutch people themselves. In addition, many thousands of families were taken into private homes and cared for. Holland did her utmost to provide adequately for these refugees, and the service which she thus rendered will never be forgotten by the Belgians who benefited thereby.

As we boarded the train at Amsterdam bound for the German frontier, speculation among my fellow-passengers was keen as to the nature of the inspection to which one would be subjected at the frontier. It was rumored that the regulations had been greatly intensified and made more rigorous. Details of how spies had been caught, the mode of personal body examination, and the like, were all vividly told by those who had recently crossed the border. The thrill of excitement in anticipation of sigh ;S to be seen and experiences to be had grew as we approached Bentheim, the frontier station through which we were to pass on our way to Berlin.

Our wildest dreams or speculations as to the examination at the frontier, however, had not conceived what actually awaited us. It was microscopic in detail and thoroughness. Each and every individual was examined as only German scientific thoroughness for details and minutiae could conceive. From the inner band of my hat to the soles and heels of my shoes, including all between these extremities, nothing escaped scrutiny. Ushered into a small private booth with a German soldier in attendance, I was compelled to undress piece by piece, each garment as it was removed being carefully examined by the attendant official. All pockets had to be emptied. Women inspectors were employed for the inspection of women travelers. Not a single scrap of paper, whether blank or written upon, or even a newspaper used to wrap up various articles, was permitted to be retained. Books, even my Bible and photographs — all were temporarily confiscated, to be sent to my address later, no doubt after having been subjected to most careful inspection. As for baggage examination, nothing could have been worse. The same occurred in the large Customs House rooms. As trunks and suitcases were opened and one article after another was taken out and held up for all to gaze upon, while the officials carefully examined it for hidden papers or forbidden supplies, many a traveler was placed in a most humiUating position and forced to blush as the secrets of his baggage thus became the objects of public gaze. I recall the ordeal

FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF BERLIN 11

of one German lady who had just arrived from Brazil with four trunks full of her belongings, the grueling inspection of which lasted fully an hour.

One was next ushered into the presence of an official in civilian clothing, no doubt a secret service man; he attempted to ferret out one's secret thoughts. Cross-examined to the extreme by him, one had to be expert or callous to avoid baring all of one's innermost thoughts, so far as one's political status was concerned. The whole procedure was carried on in a most courteous but business-like manner, with a high-handed atmosphere of superiority of the officials in charge that smacked of Prussian militarism, as we had conceived it.

After several hours' delay caused by these examinations, I boarded the German train waiting for the passengers, which was to take me to Berlin. The train was held until all passengers had gone through the grueling mill of inspection and had boarded the train.

As we pulled through the country in the fully equipped train, including diners and sleepers, one could not help but be impressed by the high state of cultivation of all fields and the general splendid up-keep of all farms. The villages and cities through which we passed were liberally beflagged and garlanded, and everywhere throughout the land church bells were tolling. This was being done, so I learned, in token of the recently proclaimed victories of the German armies in their advance into Russia. The occasion of the celebration was the capture of Kowno, Wilna, Georgeowitsch, and Minsk — cities which fell into German hands after the decisive routing of the Russians at the Mazurian Lakes battle. I learned later that this method of observance was always utihzed whenever a victory at the battle front was reported. Shrewdly and wisely holidays were granted the school children on such occasions. No more effective means could have been employed to educate and train the children to worship military power and prowess. It was just one of the many methods employed to militarize the people and to win their allegiance to the militaristic policy of the Government.

As we continued our journey towards Berlin one was more and more impressed by the evidence of German thoroughness, orderliness, and efficiency everywhere apparent. Aside from the boIdiers one saw at every railway station, and the relatives bidding farewell to departing soldiers, it was hard to realize that we were in a country at war with a large part of the world. Organization and preparedness seemed so thorough that the emergency of war had had comparatively little effect on the everyday routine of the nation's life. Berlin itself proved a marvelous revelation, with its brilliant lights, its busy thoroughfares, and its crowded caf^s and restaurants. It was in marked contrast to the L<5ndon which I had left, where innumerable recruiting and war loan posters in brilliant colors, streets darkened at night for fear of Zeppelin raids, and searchlights flashing fitfully across the inky blackness of the night skies in search of lurking death-dealing danger overhead, reminded one that the country was at war. " While London was comparatively dead so far as night life was concerned, Berlin was gay and throbbing with life. All was ablaze, theaters and caf6 life never more gorgeous and populous. A war decree had prohibited all public dances for the duration of the war, so that dancers, deprived of their favorite form of entertainment, sought the theaters and movies and caf^s for amusement. Here the usual great variety of cakes and drinks could still be had. Whipped cream was abundantly served with coffee, chocolate, and cake; but the emergencies of war were to sound the death decree for whipped cream very soon. After October, 1915, it was no longer served in public. Business seemed more alive than ever; department stores were crowded with a seemingly prosperous public anxious to spend money. At the time of my arrival in August, 1915, no food restrictions, with the exception of bread rationing, were enforced. Excellent meals of the heavy German variety were to be had in all restaurants and hotels. The a la carte menus offered an infinite variety of food. Berlin was a busy, bustling, and prosperous metropolis. The upkeep of the streets, parks, and public places was vigilantly and scrupulously maintained. Shop windows contained elaborate displays of expensive luxuries in clothing, jewelry, furs, knickknacks, and art subjects. Aside from the presence of multitudinous soldiers and a shortage of good autos and taxis, life appeared normal.

In numerous store windows, especially those of newspaper offices, large maps showing the location and general position of the battle fronts were displayed. The movements of the troops were