SUBALTERN'S SAGA (Part Two)

Since I wrote an account of my experience in World War 1 which ended when I fell into the hands of the Germans, owing to engine failure, in September 1916, my family have pressed me to give some account of the time I spent as a prisoner-of-war in Germany.

After sixty years, memory begins to fail, but fortunately I had kept a diary and had access to letters I had written to my family and to various relations. So the opportunity provided by a holiday in South Africa supplied the incentive to write Part Two of my "Subaltern's Saga".

Many people have wondered why the name "Tank" was given to those armoured monsters whose invention revolutionised traditional methods of warfare. The first tanks were built at the Carriage and Wagon Works at Oldbury, near Birmingham and could be seen being put through their paces behind a high wall surrounding the factory, from the seven story building at the Spon Lane Glassworks. On grounds of security, it was given out that the vehicles were mobile water tanks which were to be sent to Mesopotamia. Their real purpose was not revealed until they first went into action on the Somme battlefield on September 15th,1916.

As I flew back to our aerodrome that afternoon, I seem to remember as I crossed the lines seeing some dark objects in the ruins of the village of Flers; their significance was not realised until we heard some time later that what I had seen were "Tanks".

A few days previously, General "Boom" Trenchard had addressed the officers of his Headquarters Wing in one of the hangers at Fienvillers, and told us that a big "push" would shortly take place and that he relied on us to do everything we could to keep the German planes well behind their lines and to go and bomb trains bringing reinforcements and ammunition to their forward positions. On the afternoon of September 15th, No. 27 Squadron pilots were sent out in pairs with instructions to drop their bombs from a low height on any trains they could find. A Canadian, P.C. Sherren and I - he was later killed in an air crash after the war - crossed the lines at a good height and spotted a train steaming along near the village of Gouzeaucourt.

We came down low and I flew along the train at a height of about five hundred feet. My first 112lb bomb exploded at the side of the train but my second hit the engine, blowing it up in a cloud of steam. Sherren followed and his bombs hit the last coaches of the train which were loaded with ammunition and which exploded. Highly delighted, I flew low over the village and my Martinsyde became the target of an enemy machine gun whose bullets punctured both of my landing wheel tyres, making a number of holes in the wings and fuselage. Fortunately I survived unscathed. I opened the throttle and climbed as high as the Martinsyde would go - crossing the lines at 15,000 feet - determined to get back to our aerodrome as quickly as I could. The plane bumped on landing with its two punctured tyres and I switched off the engine after taxi-ing to the hangers and reported to the Squadron Commander, Major "Crasher" Smith.

Visiting the battlefields shortly after the War on my Morgan runabout, we encountered a French farmer ploughing beside the railway at Gouzeaucourt, who told us he was there when "two brave French Aviators" bombed a troop train and caused many casualties. He may have been disappointed when I told him that the bombs were dropped by English fliers and that I was one of them!

September 17th, 1916, was a bad day for the Royal Flying Corps. No. 12 Squadron - who flew B.E.2c's and whose main role was artillery observation - after an abortive early morning start, set out later in the morning to bomb Marcoing Junction, escorted by F.E.2b's from No. 11 Squadron. The B.E. pilots flew without observers, whose weight was about equivalent to their load of two 112lb. or eight 20lb. bombs. On turning for home after dropping their bombs, the British formation was attacked by three fighters from the newly formed German Jagdstaffel 2, flying for the first time in the new "Albatros D 1" scouts, equipped with more powerful engines and having two machine guns, one each side of the fuselage, which were provided with interrupter gear and so could fire through the arc of the propellor without hitting the blades.

One of the B.E.'s that had successfully bombed a train, was shot down by the Commander of the German Squadron - Hauptman Oswald Boelke - it being his twenty-seventh victim. The pilot, Lieutenant Patterson, died in hospital from his wounds. Another of the No.12 pilots, Raymond Money, who had spent several months in France flying as an observer before qualifying as a pilot in England and returning to France, had engine trouble and his plane was hit by a burst of "Archie". However he managed to survive though he crashed on landing. The F.E.'s of No.11 Squadron put up a valiant fight but four of them were shot down by the much faster and better armed Germans who had been joined by several of their comrades.

Two of the F.E.'s managed to land without killing their crews who were taken prisoner - Captain Gray (Indian Army), his observer Lieutenant Saunders (Middlesex Regiment); Second Lieutenant Tom Molloy (Dorset Regiment), his observer Lieutenant Helder (Royal Fusiliers) who was slightly wounded. The F.E.'s had little chance to cope with the much faster Albatroses who attacked from the rear and out of the line of fire of the F.E. observer's rear-firing Lewis guns which were mounted on the top plane and fired by the observer standing up in his cockpit which projected from the lower plane, with the pilot sitting behind him. So it was impossible for the observer to fire at a plane approaching from the rear without hitting his tailplane.

No. 27 Squadron set off early to bomb the station at Valenciennes some way behind the lines, and having dropped their bombs were lucky to return home without having run into enemy opposition. But my luck did not hold. It was a lovely morning and nine Martinsydes, each carrying ten 20lb. bombs, with four others acting as escort, had soon got into formation led by my Flight Commander Captain Owen T. Boyd. I was the right hand back man. We flew north towards Arras and met two F.E.'s on early morning patrol who seemed surprised to see us. As we crossed the La Bassee Canal at about 9,000 feet, we ran into a lot of "Archie" near Lens but there was no sign of any hostile machines. Our formation continued to be shelled in spasms on its way to Valenciennes. Suddenly my engine began to misfire and finally stopped. I turned on the emergency petrol tank which fed the carburettor by gravity and pumped up pressure in the main tank with the hand pump.

The engine picked up again for a short time but the pressure gauge showed no reading. I turned for home, dropped my bombs and managed to climb to 11,000 feet, when the engine finally packed up. The Squadron flew back overhead; I fired a Very light but it did not appear to have been noticed. There was nothing more to be done than to glide down and look for a suitable landing place.

I had some tracer ammunition in my Lewis gun drums and as there was a danger that these might be classified as "explosive", I threw them overboard as I passed over a small wood. Shortly afterwards I landed in a stubble field. I jumped out and tried to set fire to the wings of the machine with a "portfire" which we carried in the event of a forced landing in enemy territory. The doped fabric of the lower wing would not burn so I jumped back into the fuselage, broke the glass petrol gauge and set alight the petrol which gushed out. A German soldier driving a hay-rake galloped up yelling, followed by an officer on a horse and a crowd of soldiers who had been exercising nearby. I gave my flying coat to a Bosche to carry and was escorted off by the officer - a major. By this time there was a considerable crowd round the Martinsyde, who bolted when the petrol tank exploded and the Very lights ignited as the plane broke in half. Some staff officers arrived in a car to view the wreck and the German Major with whom I conversed in French, told me I was claimed by an A.A. Battery who had fired at me as I glided down to land. But I denied it. I was picked up by a fat Captain and driven off to Bourlon, where the Air Force Headquarters was located in the Chateau. After waiting some time in a room occupied by clerks, I was interviewed by an officer wearing a monocle and decorated with the Iron Cross, he gave me a cigarette. Later I was interrogated by a very rude officer, but only gave my name, rank and Regiment, which annoyed him. As I was leaving the Chateau, I produced my only German phrase, "Ich danke Ihnen fur Ihre grosse freundlichkeit" causing some surprise! I was then taken to the Mairie, where I was shut up with two German private soldiers. An A.A. Battery in the village kept on firing and I saw several F.E.'s flying overhead. After waiting until about 3 p.m., I was marched off to the station about a mile distant and put on a train to Cambrai.

I was taken to the Fortress which was used as a barracks and put in a very dirty room where I met several other British officers, recently taken prisoner - including Captain Gray, Saunders, Molloy, Helder and Money, all Royal Flying Corps and shot down that morning.

What were one's feelings when it became evident that it was not possible to get back to the British side of the lines? I think that my attention was rivetted on finding a safe landing place rather than realising that I was to fall into enemy hands. I must admit that on my first flights over German-held territory, I was frightened, particularly when anti-aircraft shells exploded - some near enough to cause my plane to bounce.

I had had practically no instructions in how to deal with enemy aircraft, and the very primitive bomb sight fixed on the side of the pilot's seat was quite useless. So when we reached our targets, we had to guess the approximate moment to "pull the plug" and release the bombs. Not too difficult when coming down low over a station full of trucks and carriages, but very uncertain when flying at 10,000 feet!

The room had no furniture except for double-tier wooden bunks in which we slept on straw filled palliasses. The food provided was vile - an unpleasant change after the Mess at Fienvillers - and consisted of vegetable soup served twice a day, black bread and ersatz coffee. Fortunately we had some French money and were able to buy through an interpreter a little jam, chocolate and biscuits. There were no washing facilities but we were allowed half an hour's exercise in the barrack square.

One day while we were there, there was a parade of a Bosche Battalion, which had been made up with drafts - mostly young soldiers - after having suffered severe casualties on the Somme battlefield. The battalion was formed up in square and addressed by a senior officer sitting on his horse. After a long oration, an N.C.O. produced some Iron Crosses from a bag he was carrying. These were duly pinned on the breasts of a number of the "other ranks" - no doubt "pour encourager les autres".

We were kept in Cambrai for about ten days until enough prisoners had been collected to make up a train load. Officers were packed eight to a third class carriage with a German private, who smelt to high heaven, to guard us. After spending a night in the train and passing through Douai, Mons and Brussels, we disembarked in Cologne station. We spent another night in an underground waiting room known to many prisoners-of-war as the "Black Hole of Calcutta". Next day we entrained and in due course arrived at Gütersloh in the province of Hanover where we spent a night in a reception camp located outside the main P.O.W. Lager. A party of twenty-eight R.F.C. officers went on by train to Osnabruck where we were shut up in rooms with windows pasted over with paper so that we could not see out. We were kept there for about a fortnight, and were visited by an attaché from the American Embassy who gave no reason why we were segregated. We learned later that we were kept incommunicado because the British Government was threatening to shoot a captured Zeppelin crew - about fifteen in number - because they were carrying tracer bullets which were held to contravene the Hague Convention. So the Huns picked twice the number of R.F.C. officers in case it became necessary for them to retaliate. Fortunately we were not shot!

To revert to my landing in enemy territory - when I was staying at the Adelphi Hotel in Liverpool in 1940, I saw a senior R.A.F. officer in the lounge whom I seemed to recognize and who turned out to be Air Vice Marshal Owen T. Boyd, my one time Flight Commander. I introduced myself and we had a chat. He remembered my disappearance on September 17th and said he had often wondered what had happened to me. Shortly afterwards on a flight to Egypt, his plane had to make a forced landing in Sicily, so he in his turn became a P.O.W.

OSNABRUCK

The "Officier Kriegsgefangenen Lager Osnabruck" was a pre-war cavalry barracks located on rising ground on the outskirts of town. It consisted of a main four-storey block with rooms overlooking the parade ground, backed by long corridors and served by a central staircase. To the left of the main block were the kitchens, canteen and administrative offices. In front of the main block were two "yards" about 75 by 25 yards in area and a riding school. There were also two tennis courts.

I started to keep a diary and the following paragraphs are culled from it:

"Our beds are very close together and we have little room to move around. I found that Hunt was here, whom I had known at Reading, and several crews from No.70 Squadron (which formed part of H.Q. Wing at Fienvillers), who were glad to get our news.

Sept.30th. We are told we are "out of quarantine" and may go into the yards for exercise. Also that we are to have a hot bath, which took place in a room about twelve feet square, equipped with hot and cold showers. I revelled in this as I had not had a bath for three weeks. Some underclothes I had sent to be washed, came back in the afternoon so I feel clean at last. A walk round the yard, but soon felt quite fagged. We were allowed into the canteen for meals, but only for half an hour. We also got into an N.C.O.'s room in which was a piano. I tried to converse with a Russian who spoke English, but was chased off before we could say much.

Oct.5th. People have begun to move out, but where to we do not know, though we think to another part of the building.

Oct.7th. The rest of us told to go. So we packed our small belongings and were taken downstairs where we were in our turn questioned by a Dr. Kohlmann who did not ask me much. We went into a room on the ground floor of the main block. In our room are Saunders, Pinkerton, Sams, Wingfield, Helder and Molloy. There is more room and we can see out of the windows but we are not allowed out and have meals in our room. However there is a long corridor to walk in. Had hoped for better things, but no luck so far.

We now have a Russian orderly, by name Ivan Gregorvitch, aged about 50. A real good fellow who keeps the room very clean and does anything we want. We call him "Keepatok", the Russian for hot water - his morning greeting! Everyone now downstairs and we hear we may be allowed to go out tomorrow.

Oct.8th. The Commandant, a Major, came round this morning about 9.00. A fine looking old fellow aged about 65 with white hair and a large tummy.

Oct.9th. Played three sets of tennis with Saunders, Captain Leggatt (Wiltshire Regt. and R.F.C. M.C.) and Tooke (Lieut. R.N.), pretty hopeless and got very fagged.

Oct.14th. Some of us moving to smaller rooms, but we are not going until Monday. We now have roll call (Appel) at 7.45 a.m. and 7.30 p.m. Must turn out fully dressed - rather a sweat. However we manage to avoid things by pretending to be cold and putting on our flying coats.

Oct.15th. Meat for lunch. Lovely day with blue sky and white clouds but heavy shower when at lunch. In the afternoon we were ordered into the canteen by the Commandant who told us what rooms we were to occupy upstairs on the first floor. We were also told we were going to have two hot baths weekly, a reading room, walks, use of the riding school for badminton and that a bookseller would come up from town once a week. Moved into new room - Zimmer 68 - about 5 p.m. Molloy (Dorset Regt. and R.F.C.), Money (East Yorks Regt. and R.F.C.), Helder (Royal Fusiliers and R.F.C.), Saunders (Middlesex Regt. and R.F.C.) and myself. The room exactly the same size as our old one but on the first floor. Quite a view from the window and much brighter. A cupboard with drawers to hold food. We hear this evening that the Russians have started a new offensive, also that heavy fighting was taking place at Sailly Sallisel (Somme) on 12th inst. Played bridge after appel - Molloy and self versus "Von" and "Wingers". (Saunders was nicknamed "Von" after the German General in Turkey.)

Oct.17th. The bookseller came but I only ordered a German grammer [sic] as we are starting a library. A great discussion this afternoon as to how we should arrange our room. Money has ideas of his own but will have to fall into line with the wishes of the majority. Finally decided to have all the beds in two tiers, one side of the room and to hang curtains round them and round the walls. I shared our two-tier iron bedsteads with "Von" who slept on the top one. This is quite comfortable arrangement and saves floor space.

Oct.18th. "Russki" got us some coal for our stove this morning - cost 50 pfg. He lit it and we got up a real fug to celebrate the event. Very cold outside and rain in the morning. Ante-room opened in the afternoon - large and airy with two stoves, tables and chairs. It should improve our comfort enormously. The third and fourth floors of the barracks were occupied by Russian officer prisoners - mostly captured during the early months of the War, ranging in rank from Colonel to Lieutenant. The only other Allied prisoner was an elderly French Captain who had a small room to himself at the end of our corridor. More about them later.

Oct.19th. The medical officer called and we were vaccinated in the afternoon. He did it well and painlessly. Grapes in the canteen this evening - we made pigs of ourselves! The canteen is a real swindle - everything costs ten times what it should. They have run out of chocolate for some days but today they got in some absolute "filth" at M3.30, instead of the previous price of M2.80. The same quantity costs 1/- in England.

Our rations consisted of black coffee - made out of roasted acorns, with no milk or sugar - in the morning. Lunch was generally vegetable soup, sometimes there was a small piece of meat or shellfish. In the evening, more soup. We were issued weekly a small loaf of "Kriegsbrot", very hard and stale and full of potato flour and which became rock hard at the end of the week. We were able to buy jam in the canteen, but no butter, sugar or milk.

A lovely afternoon with a cloudless sky but chilly. A German plane flew over at about 1,000 feet - it could have been an Albatros. The pilot gave an exhibition of his ability to "stunt". "Von" had his diary returned by the Censor with every page torn out.

Oct.20th. Sunday. A Service was held in a small room in the canteen, conducted by a Mr. Williams who had been Chaplin to the Kaiser's Mother. Nice fellow but owing to the presence of the German interpreter who was with him the whole time, he could give us no news. Another innoculation in the afternoon - this time for cholera and my arm was rather sore later in the day. Ivan Hay (5th Lancers) - a cousin of the Dudleys - came to tea. He had been a prisoner since August 26th, 1914 but did not look it. He told us plenty of interesting things about his early experiences. Nearly all the "tea" was provided by Hay! White bread, syrup tea with milk and sugar, cake, biscuits. Hay had been getting parcels from home via Holland. We did enjoy a real "blowout" - the best we have had for five weeks. Re-arranged the room in evening, and papered wall behind beds with brown paper which was a great improvement as the whitewash kept getting on our clothes. Three double beds on one side of the room and two tables in the middle. The iron beds had wooden slats underneath, on top of which were straw filled paliasses and two blankets.

Oct.21st. Wingers and I got our first letters this morning. I had a letter from Dad and postcards from Mother and Katherine. A cheque made out in favour of Swiss Red Cross was the first information my parents had of my survival. Everyone excited at the prospect of more letters and parcels. My chest felt stiff from innoculations so stayed in bed. Not so cold today and blue sky. Our room begins to be quite comfortable. We have bought a teapot and becoming quite civilised. Walked for two miles in afternoon and hopes of a real walk tomorrow if weather holds. Anteroom being papered dark red and should be comfortable.

Oct.22nd. About twenty of us went for a walk this morning with one of the Lieutenants, lasting just over an hour.

The country very pretty with pine covered hills, white houses with red roofs and roads without hedges. My flying boots hard to walk in but greatly enjoyed being relatively free for once. We got a good view from a hill just above the Lager on which are two lone trees, known as Max and Moritz or Adam and Eve. Lovely day and not so cold. Meat for dinner and stewed plums. Tea with Maxwell, Blain and Griffiths (all R.F.C.). Almost as good as being at home! Tea, cakes, butter, biscuits, jam and Patum Peperium. Went to concert given by Russians. Their orchestra with balalaikas combined with guitars played very well. Some sang and others told what we gathered were funny stories, judging by the laughter and applause they created.

We did not see much of our captors except on morning and evening Appel. A group photograph of the British prisoners was taken by a local photographer who also took individual photographs. But when it was printed, the Commandant sitting in the middle of the front row was blotted out.

Oct.23rd. Helder had his first Russian lesson and after tea we were all innoculated against typhus. I did not feel well that evening, my chest was sore for a few days. Cooked sardines and tomatoes on our stove - very good!

Oct. 24th. Got up late - bath at 11.00, followed by a walk.

Oct. 25th. Had another walk after lunch and we went across a railway line into some pinewoods. This sort of life makes one feel slack and flying boots make walking tiring but it was good to be out again. People we met showed no active hate, but some did not seem to approve of us. On the whole they showed only an attitude of curiosity. We were not allowed to walk on the pavement and had to stick to the road. Lieutenant Klöcker was in charge. The barber came after tea-time and I had my hair cut.

Oct. 26th. Several letters from home and I hope to get a parcel tomorrow. Bad lunch - thin soup, potatoes, sauerkraut, microscopic piece of cheese. Rumours that there will be only one meal per day next month but parcels should arrive soon. Griffiths, (2nd Lieutenant Royal Welsh Fusiliers and R.F.C., an observer in 70 Squadron) gave us some cooked ham which we fried on the stove. We had our second shot of typhus innoculation and in the evening gave a concert to the Russians in our anteroom. This went off well but nothing very great in the way of performance. "Tipperary", "Old Cock Robin" went down well and the Russian chorus sang the Volga Boat Song. At the end both National Anthems were sung and as we left the room, a German Lieutenant appeared and we thought we were in for a strafing. He had only come with the Camp Commandant's compliments to say how pleased he was that we had enjoyed ourselves together. The anteroom looks nice and comfortable with its walls papered a dark red with white painted dado and doors, blue curtains and furnished with card tables and deck chairs.

Oct.28th. Another walk today with the tall Lieutenant. We hear of a great scandal about the French Captain Allouche whom we all loathe. He has been trying to set the Russians against us. Yesterday when the Spanish Ambassador came to inquire into charges made by the Russians that canteen prices were excessive, he shoved his spole into the wheel and claimed the prices were quite reasonable, so he put his foot in it. It is curious how all the other nationalities seem to loathe the French. In every other Lager, they are hated like poison by the other Allies. Luckily there are only a few here and as we get on well with the Russians, we take no notice of them. Captain Allouche was the only French man in the camp when we arrived and we suspected he had been planted by the Germans as a spy. Having apparently given away an escape plan, it was decided to deal with him. During the night several officers entered the small room in which he slept, threw cold water over him and plastered his private parts with jam. He came rushing down the corridor shouting "Au Secours" and was rescued by sentries and taken to the Kommadantur - that was the last we saw of him.

Oct.30th. Another dose of typhoid innoculation - we thought it was to have been the last but there is one more to come. More officers were released from quarantine - three R.F.C. and about a dozen Frenchmen. I heard from one of them that poor old Hodges, to whom I had sold my Douglas motor-bike, was killed trying to loop a Sopwith at Castle Bromwich.

Also that Nixon had been shot down over the lines and had stalled and crashed in a street. Of course killed by his machine gun being forced back into his face. Captain Hay introduced me to Captain Agapov, a Russian Cavalry Officer who is to teach me Russian in exchange for English. Some parcels arrived and after waiting in the Parcel Room for some time as there were a lot of us waiting to collect, I got hold of mine which contained just what I wanted in the way of clothes and food. - Because Holland was not involved in the First World War, Red Cross food and other parcels, sent to prisoners in Germany from England, passed through Holland on their way to the various P.O.W. Camps with relatively little interference or pilfering. Without the food parcels we should have been in a very poor way. As the War progressed, food supplies for the German population got worse and worse, particularly in the cities. P.O.W.'s came last in the queues.- Had my first Russian lesson at eleven, plenty to learn! We lunched off veal and ham pie and ate toffee and ginger biscuits all afternoon. I gave Agapov his first English lesson in the afternoon.

Nov.2nd. Sanders and I went to the dentist. His office was near the station so we went right through the town. We were wearing flying coats and helmets and caused some excitement. I had a tooth stopped and the nerve killed. The dentist was rather rough and caused some pain but I suppose it will be alright. Got back at one o'clock and had lunch by ourselves. I heard from Whittle (27 Squadron) that O'Byrne is in hospital in Cologne with two fingers off, a broken arm and two bullets in his leg, but doing all right. So he wasn't killed after all. He shared my tent at Fienvillers. A list has been posted up in the anteroom of fellows missing, which included my name - also the names of several friends.

Nov.3rd. Porridge for breakfast with milk and brown sugar. Two more parcels for me - one from home and one R.F.C. containing food. Russian lessons as usual in the morning. Captain Agapov lives in two small rooms on the third floor, with six other Russians who have been very nice and polite. I have not as yet been able to get a Russian Grammar, and rely on a Berlitz conversation book. The Russians are quick learners and Captain A. learns about three times as fast as I. We do not hear much war news except through the German newspapers, but the French are very pleased with life as they have recaptured Fort Vaux at Verdun and taken a lot of prisoners. They drank Bordeaux for lunch and toasted everything and everybody!

Nov.4th. A day of rows. Hay has been turned out of his room in favour of a French Captain and naturally is angry about it. He expressed a wish to the German interpreter that all German towns might be bombed before the end of the war. Not wise of him but quite understandable. The French Captain visited Captain Gray, our senior officer to try and make peace but after some fruity language, he was booted out of Gray's room with Gray's best French - which was not very good at any time - to speed him on his way. Lastly someone wrote "Bosche" in a letter which stirred things up. The fool of an under-officer in the Tin Room had mixed my tins with Cairnes' (60th Rifles and R.F.C.) with the result that he was eating my cherished "Lamb and Peas" which I had been saving for Sunday's dinner. A poor devil of a Captain, blinded in both eyes, has arrived in the Camp. (This was Captain Gilbert Nobbs, who was repatriated some months later via Holland. He went to Australia to manage the Holbrook sauce and pickle business which he did very successfully with the help of a very efficient lady secretary. I met him in Sydney after he had retired when I was Chairman of Holbrooks Ltd., the parent company of the Australian and South African subsidiaries.)

Nov.5th. Sanders and I got up before Appel and cooked breakfast, consisting of porridge and tongue. Sanders, Kennedy (2nd Lieutenant R.F.C. 27 Squadron) and I went down to the dentist and on the way we tried to count the windows we could see open - there were not many! We sat in the waiting room with three fat German women, a youth and our guard. My turn came last and I had two stoppings and had to have gas. While I was in the dentist's chair, an aeroplane flew over the town. Dr. Bergman became excited and we all looked out of the window. His assistant told me that a well-known Osnabruck pilot who had been flying since before the War, had crashed from 1,500 feet and was being buried today. The plane dropped a wreath, which I did not see and did the usual German stunts, for instance, turning with no "bank". On the way back, the streets were crowded with people coming from the funeral - some girls, quite good to look on for once. As usual we were objects of interest and we heard several people say "flieger". Our guard had short legs and as we were walking fast, we could hear him puffing behind us. Lunch was over when we got back, but we had our usual "fleisch".

Nov.6th. Baths as usual. The Major came round in the afternoon to inspect the rooms as a General is expected to be coming tomorrow. Next day a Colonel turned up representing the General and inspected the rooms but did not seem to do anything special. Parcels given out in the afternoon. Molloy got his first. I was lucky and had four, two of clothes and two Fortnum and Mason. Rumours flying round that the French Captain has done a bunk as his room was locked and he did not turn up for Appel.

Nov.8th. Yesterday's rumours came to nought as the Frenchman had only been visiting a friend in quarantine. Hunt, who was with me at Reading at the Initial Training Course, came to tea. Kennedy has heard from a friend who knew Mother as a girl, who had heard that I was a prisoner at Osnabruck. We are getting quite good cooks and had hot roast beef and cocoa for supper.

Nov.9th. We all paraded in the Yard and an order was read out stating that we were not allowed to have maps. Innoculated for the last time by a new doctor. Molloy's 19th birthday so we had steak and lark pie and fried potatoes for supper and drank his health. In the evening there was a concert, attended by the Commandant and Dr. Pohlmann. The Russian orchestra played, there were songs and recitations. The British put on a skit based on the music-hall turn "Motoring" and the performance ended with a song by the Russian choir with their deep bass voices. The orchestra - guitars and balalaikas was not so good as before but improved.

"Tipperary" sung by Maxwell, went well. My tutor, Agapov sang a song in English - marvellously well considering he had only been learning for a short time. Three Russians in so-called evening dress were extremely funny. They all appeared very lugubrious and the youngest with a large tummy played a balalaika looking at the music about two feet above his head and never turned a hair. A Russian Colonel who was over six feet tall and looked very impressive, sang the Volga Boat Song with great gusto and passion. The "sketch" caused roars of laughter. The actors had made a wonderful car with a brake and horn and a radiator with "Ford" inscribed on it. A Russian dressed as a girl and singing in a duet drew howls and cheers from us all. "She" was given a bouquet and threw flowers in quite the approved style. Altogether a very happy evening.

Nov.10th. Stiff from innoculation. Molloy got parcels, so we have food to go on with. The British share their parcels but the French - mainly Reserve officers - kept their parcels for personal consumption under their individual beds!

Nov.12th. Went for a walk at ten - rather cold and cloudy but fresh. In the afternoon went to tea with some Russians with Whittle, Hay, Tullis, Gray, Salmond and Walker. Molloy, Helder and Wingfield went to tea with Uschatski and enjoyed a good feed. Our hosts were Agapov, Gempel and five others and they gave us a splendid tea - Russian and German bread, butter, cheese, cake and various Russian foods, with tea and excellent black coffee and with cigarettes to finish up with. We were a cheery party and taught our hosts to say "hot-stuff" and "damn". Agapov is learning English very quickly - it is extraordinary how rapidly they pick it up. He came down to our room one evening when we were playing "Rummy" and after listening to our slang, remarked, "You no teach me English, I understand not one damn word!"

We papered the walls of our room with brown paper and put red shades on the lamps so it looks more cosy. An enclosure is being made which is the same size and adjoins the outer yard and will serve as a football pitch. Blain came round and collected the names of those who want to play tennis. We hope to have two hard courts and one in the Riding School.

Nov.13th. The Russians have heard a rumour that in today's daily papers, it says that the German Chancellor BethmanHollweg has made a speech to the effect that Germany is ready for peace and wishes to have an armistice so as to put an end quickly to "This unnecessary and bloody war". I hope it is true.

Nov.14th. Parcel day - I got four and everyone else had something. Mine were two of clothes, bread from Switzerland and an enormous side of bacon via American Express - all very welcome. Great jokes about the bacon - we have called it "Percy" and it lives in a kitbag of mine. The Germans showed much amusement when it was opened. "Percy" was a godsend and lasted a long time.

Nov.15th. Maxwell and Gray came back from Medical Board and all got through except Maxwell. Nobbs is to go straight back to England via Holland and the rest to Switzerland. At the Lager they went to, Swiss newspapers were available and they read that Germans of all ages were to be mobilised and that the French had gone as military advisors to the Rumanians. They saw troop loads of "civvies" in charge of soldiers who looked depressed. A copy of a letter received from Hauptman Boelke's father was posted on the notice board. He was killed in a collision with one of his pilots. It was his Kampfgeschwader who shot down the four F.E. 2b's and two B.E. 2c's on September 17th. The letter, dated from Ziebuck on November 12th, read as follows:-

"To the Commandant. Sir, You have been so kind as to send a wreath as a last tribute to our son being killed while fighting for his country, which had been dedicated by the British Flying Officers interned in the camp at Osnabruck. We beg to thank you for granting the wish of the interned gentlemen and to ask you kindly to inform them that their noble display of real chivalrous feeling has left a splendid impression throughout Germany. May the chivalrous relations which have ever existed between the German and British airmen and which have been displayed by our son, soon move into the relations of the two Nations. With heartfelt gratitude to the British Officers, Yours Obediently - Professor M. Boelke".

Nov.16th. Breakfasted on Percy as porridge has run out and we substituted fried bread. Played tennis with Wingers against Helder and Molloy. Very cold, especially wearing shorts, but good fun. As we were playing, a Schutte-Lanz dirigible flew over at about 1,000 feet. It was a small copy of a Zeppelin and we could see its details quite distinctly - propellors and all. It seemed to be having a rough time as the clouds were low.

Nov.18th. An attaché from the American Embassy turned up at mid-day and we all jawed with him in the anteroom, particularly about having to have our windows closed at night and about the latrines which are bad. The Russians' habits involved squatting on the seats with inaccurate aim. On an icy morning I saw two senior Russian officers enter the "pissoir", the floor of which was icy. Their legs slid from under them and they ended up in the gutter. We had a "Russky" tea with Agapov, Uschatski, Rouhine and Gempel as guests. We had a terrific spread with Molloy's birthday cake draped in red paper as a centrepiece and every sort of delicacy. None of the Russians eat much but we talked hard all the time.

Agapov surprised us by leaping up and bolting out of the room saying, "I am unwell". Poor chap, he has a bad arm and always feels seedy in the evening. After Appel we had an impromptu sing-song in the anteroom. There were some quite good turns, among them one by Lowson, a sandy-haired Royal Scot, who imitated Harry Lauder and Tom Foy. Room 68 sang two songs of rather doubtful character - mainly home-composed. One was "Star of the Evening", and the other - to the tune of the Volga Boat Song - "She was poor but she was honest." This went down well with the Russians. Very cold last night and snow on the ground.

Nov.20th. Watts - a Canadian - was put into our room. He had flown a B.E.12. Also B.A. Ordish (22 Squadron R.F.C.) who had served in the Artists Rifles and was an acquisition to the choir. We sang for about half an hour after lights-out.

Nov. 21st.

We had a walk and were accompanied by some German children who followed us most of the way back to the Lager. One or two knew quite a lot of English and liked to show it off. They would not believe we were officers as we had no swords! The O'Mount came to tea and told us about the Dublin rebellion. An amusing chap.

Here some pages of my diary are missing but the last one refers to an incident that occurred early in December. The Germans sent a party to search one of the Russian's rooms and departed with bottles of beer and other drink. This made the Russians mad and one of them ran down the stairs smashing windows with a stick. I was looking out of our window and saw a Russian leaning out above me with a carafe in his hand. As the German patrol left the building and passed under his window, the carafe was released and fell with a crash at the feet of the German officer. His men started shooting and there was a big row. My diary which now ends, comments:-

"The Russian who did the deed owned up so the threatened reprisals are off. Whist drive this evening and about 25 couples playing. Molloy won and Organ won the booby prize. The latter was flying a new type of machine to France and had the bad luck to lose his way and land on a German aerodrome. His active service career was a short one!"

The winter of 1916-1917 was a hard one and the parade ground was covered with snow and ice. Our chief concern was food, but parcels arrived fairly regularly - without them we should have starved. My Russian studies progressed and I gradually became fluent in speech and writing. P.O.W.'s spent their time reading, playing cards and studying. I got hold of a text book on Bookkeeping and for the first time (after a mainly classical education) was able to read a history of the 19th century and its politics. At Eton we never studied English literature or history, and it had been a relief to become a "Science specialist" which was an unpopular subject. In fact I was the only senior science specialist during my last "halves".

The Russians were great gamblers and spent hours playing "Lotto" or "Bingo" as it is now known. Two English officers caused great excitement by going up to the Russian anteroom and arming themselves with a chess board, a draughts board, a halma set and a snakes-and-ladders board. They borrowed plenty of Camp money and proceeded to start a bogus game. First a chess move, followed by halma, draughts and snakes-and-ladders. After a long pause, one of the players nodded his head and handed over a stack of notes to his opponent. As the game proceeded, the table was surrounded by Russian officers, who though puzzled, became keenly interested in this new form of gambling. I do not think they ever understood that their legs were being pulled! I do not remember how Christmas was celebrated, but no doubt we had stored up an adequate supply of delicacies from our parcels. The "escaping bug" had as yet not infected the camp and in fact there was no score for tunnelling or wire cutting.

After the turn of the year, the Germans, who complained that their officer prisoners were being maltreated in Russia, decided to retaliate against some of their Russian captives. All the Russians were moved down to the rooms on the ground floor, packed together in rooms ventilated only by small grilles in the doors. They had to sleep on the floor on straw palliasses with all privileges such as books and parcels forbidden, and exercise limited to twenty minutes on the parade ground. It was sad to lose our friends and to watch them suffer with no possibility of giving any relief. We never heard from them again and if even some of them were eventually repatriated to Russia, few can have survived.

Another category of starved prisoners, a few of whom came to the Camp, were some Rumanian officers. They were captured when Rumania entered the War and her armies were smashed by General Mackensen. They seemed inordinately thin, but someone remarked that they wore stays.

CLAUSTHAL

After six months in Osnabruck, the Germans decided to segregate the Allied nationalities. In March we were told to pack up and depart. Possibly this was due to the imminent collapse of Russia under the hammer blows of Hindenburg and Ludendorf.

Laden with impedimenta we had collected and looking like Christmas trees, we struggled down through the snow to the station. Our destination was to be a camp at Clausthal in the Harz mountains. We duly arrived in the evening and spent the night in the waiting rooms. Next morning we trudged about a mile up hill and arrived at the "Kurhaus zu Pfauenteichen", (The Peacock Lake Hotel), a wooden building converted into a Lager and surrounded by a high wire fence and with wooden barrack huts built at the rear of the hotel. Already there were other P.O.W.'s in residence, mainly those captured in the early months of the War. The senior British officer was Lt. Colonel Bond of the K.O.Y.L.I. and Captain Freddy Bell of the Gordon Highlanders was Camp Adjutant. Others were Captain Skaife of the Royal Welsh Fusiliers, after the War to become Brigadier and Colonel of his regiment. Then there were two brothers by name Boger - one an Infantry Lt. Colonel and the other a Royal Engineer and a pilot R.F.C. There was a very tall and smart Captain Sanderson from my brother's Regiment, the 4th Dragoon Guards.

The Camp was commanded by a Captain Niemeyer - usually referred to as "Mad Harry". He had been a commercial traveller in America and spoke so-called English with a strong mid-western accent. Purple in the face, usually dressed in a long field-grey overcoat with field boots, sword and spurs, he and his twin brother "Milwaukee Bill" - the Commandant of the Holzminden Lager - had been appointed by General von Hänisch who was not enamoured of the British - having been given the Hanover Command after his Corps had had a rough time early on in the War. A committee under the chairmanship of Mr Justice Younger set up to report on the treatment of British P.O.W.'s, reported in 1918 that General von Hänisch was "an unreasonable and cruel man with a violent temper. He took every opportunity of curtailing anything which could make the prisoner's life less irksome. He will march surrounded by his staff and shriek with rage at the British officers, calling them dogs and pig-dogs, as did his Inspector-General Pavlovski." On visiting the Clausthal Camp before we arrived, he had exclaimed very slowly and clearly, "I am hoping every day to receive the order to send some of these people to be put up behind our lines to be shot by British shells."

Of the brothers Niemeyer, the report comments, "Neither of these men could or would speak the truth". There were generally two junior German officers - usually recovering from wounds or on sick leave, an Interpreter N.C.O. and the Reserve soldiers of the Landwehr, who guarded the Camp and provided sentries.

The Kurhaus stood above a lake - the Pfauenteich or Peacock Lake - surrounded by plantations of fir trees, and in the distance one could see the Brockenberg - the mountain famous in German myths and allegories. Some of our officers were housed in the hotel, but I was in a small attic with Money and Ordish and the rest of our party in three hutments adjoining the Hotel. Our British orderlies were housed in huts outside our compound and there were cells for those committed to "Stuben arrest". The huts had rooms each holding six officers and were so small that beds were arranged in pairs - one above the other according to German barrack practise. There was only room for a few chairs and two small tables, and no space for our belongings. Each room had a stove and during the winter months we could generally buy logs. But the un-insulated huts were icy, so overcoats and sweaters were essential. When we arrived and until a room in the Hotel was converted into an anteroom, the only communal accommodation was the hotel dining room, adjoined by its kitchen and canteen. In the summer we

were allowed to construct a tennis court and to have a squash court built by a local contractor at our expense. We were able to take exercise in the area in which the courts were located. In the winter of 1917-1918, the tennis court was flooded and used for skating. There was also a small golf putting course which we laid out. A favourite sport, particularly among the senior officers, was "bee ferreting" as there were lots of field mice on the golf course. A captured bumble-bee was introduced into a hole and persuaded to act as a ferret by a stream of smoke blown from a pipe. It was amusing to see ancient Colonels competing with each other on bended knees and puffing away into the holes, having laid bets on who would first cause a mouse to bolt!

The Camp was surrounded by a high wire fence, inside of which was a barbed-wire fence - crossed at the peril of one's life from the trigger-happy guards who patrolled round the perimeter. Outside the Camp was the Guard Room, Kommandantur and the block of cells which had to be enlarged owing to the number of officers who fell foul of the commandant. "'Drei Tage Stubenarrest" was the penalty for incurring his displeasure. The Germans had little sense of humour and were unmercifully ragged. "Mad Harry's" flow of invectives was met with laughter, making his complexion even more purple than usual. "You go right avay - forty meters ago. I send you to little 'arrest 'ouse". A sentry was summoned and the offender marched off to the cells. In April I wrote to my sister to say that there was plenty of snow - "We get a fall nearly every night". Keeping warm had been a problem and with a diet lacking in vitamins, small cuts turned septic. Most of us went about with bandaged fingers. There was a stage in the Dining Room and officers interested in acting ran a very successful Dramatic Society, putting on several plays. Parcels followed us from Osnabruck, but because it was discovered that some tins contained compasses and other escaping kit, all tins were opened in the Tin Room and their contents tipped out.

A party of officers arrived from Friedburg, among them my cousin Jocelyn Lucas who had been captured early in the war acting as a galloper to his General. When he returned to England, he was awarded a Military Cross. Succeeding to his family baronetcy owing to the death of his older brother, killed in a fall from an observation balloon, he became Member of Parliament for Portsmouth and served for many years in the House of Commons. He also became famous as a breeder of Sealyham terriers. He died in 1979.

On the Fourth of June, 1917, the Old Etonian officers

celebrated the occasion with a dinner to which nine of us sat down and drank the toast "Floreat Etona". Those present were Colonel R.G. Bolton (Scots Guards), Major Morrison Bell (Scots Guards), C.K. Hutchison (Coldstream Guards), Captain O.B. Sanderson (4th Dragoon Guards), Jocelyn Lucas (Warwicks Regiment), M. Brocas Burrows (5th Dragoon Guards), C.E. Scarisbrick (The Royal Scots), J.H. McEwen (Cameron Highlanders) and myself. The menu consisted of turtle soup, salmon mayonnaise, curry and rice, cold tongue, fruit salad and coffee.

In June I wrote, "The squash racquets came very opportunely and I hope you will be able to send out balls. We have been allowed to build a second squash court and were able to make another tennis court using our own labour. We had an excellent show by the A.D.S. last night, who put on "The Little Damozel". Critchley (Lieutenant G.E.V. Critchley, a Guards officer) as heroine, was marvellous and reduced several elderly Colonels and Majors to tears. The Dutch Ambassador arrived last week and made a thorough inspection. Boxing has been the great excitement lately and the finals took place tonight. There have been some amazing fights -

a knockout in the first fifteen seconds and two heavyweights who in their eagerness to slay each other, entirely forgot all they had learned and went at each other hammer and tongs. By the third round all they could do was to lean on each other for support and wait for time to be called. Our hopes for peace in the autumn seem rather shaky as far as can be gathered from the papers. Can't say I look forward to another winter in this country. The days pass slowly - Appel in the morning, waiting in queues for parcels and showers, preparing meals and pursuing my studies in Russian which I have continued with Captain Boger who had served as Military Attaché in Moscow."

There were various Camp activities - gambling, drinking, studying and escaping. Two Naval officers made themselves imitation German uniforms - dyed greatcoats, blackened flying boots to resemble German field boots, with spurs made of wire and silver paper, and wooden swords. They made up to represent the Commandant and his Leutnant, with escaping kit hidden under the former's greatcoat to simulate the Commandant's large tummy. One evening they walked out of a side door, passed in front of the kurhaus up to the gate, where the sentry on duty saluted and let them out! Not long afterwards the real Commandant and his Leutnant left their office and walked to the gate to the consternation of the sentry. Unfortunately the escapers did not get far and were captured and brought back to serve a term in the cells. We were allowed to make small vegetable gardens on a plot close to the wire fence and one evening two officers hid among the cabbages at night, cut the wire and escaped. What happened to them, I cannot remember.

The real big escape plot was the making of a tunnel. The floors of the huts were some feet off the ground and the space below them was boarded off. A hole was made in the floor and using bed boards to revet its sides, a shaft was dug which went down several feet. Digging took place during daylight hours and at the end of the day's work, a cover was placed over the shaft and covered with earth. From the bottom of the shaft, a tunnel was dug in the direction of the perimeter fence. This was lined with bed boards and air for the diggers was provided by a bellows with attached tubing. The earth removed had to be disposed of and this was done by filling small sacks hung inside trousers which could be opened up and the contents spread on the ground under the other huts. Work on the tunnel had progressed to the point where it was under the wire fence. One of the orderlies - an Irish Corporal - gave the game away and the tunnel was discovered. "Mad Harry" went wild with excitement - the compound was full of armed Landwehr and we were confined to barracks for some days. Potential escapers had been busy preparing escaping kits, contriving civilian clothes, making maps and with the help of a German Under Officer who was bribed with gifts of food and soap, producing railway passes and other forged documents. A tunnel at our sister camp at Holzminden proved much more successful and many officers escaped, some of them getting over the frontier into neutral Holland, including Jock Tullis who had been with us at Osnabruck.

The same Under Officer used to give us advance notice of prospective searches so it was possible to hide away items of escaping kit, hidden largely behind the boards with which the huts were lined and using secret panels whose positions were cleverly disguised.

One day we heard of a forthcoming search and were prepared for it when we were kept on parade longer than usual. Coming up the road to the camp gate, we spied an ancient "fiacre" drawn by a decrepit horse. In it were seated the Commandant and a large staff officer. Behind them came a squad of military police in full uniform with helmets and tall black field boots. They were followed by about a dozen men in civilian clothes who turned out to be detectives. Last of all came a company of young Jaeger troops. The Commandant and the staff officer dismounted - the latter wore an armlet on which "Gibralter" was woven - the gate was opened and they proceeded slowly to walk past the officers on parade, followed by the Military police and the detectives, several of whom sported beards. Some wit called "Maa" - a sheep's moan of complaint, and this was taken up with some gusto to the disgust of the Commandant and the amusement of the staff officer who at any rate had a sense of humour. The occupants of each room were then taken off in turn, accompanied by a policeman and detective, to have their rooms searched. This all took a long time before all the rooms had been dealt with. In the event, very little escape material was discovered, but the detectives lost several of the umbrellas with which they were armed. The guards "mislaid" a number of rifles which were only discovered as the result of a further search. The sequel to the search which went on all morning, took place a few days later when a crowd of officers invaded the Commandant's office and during the confusion, a number of escaping items discovered during the search, were recovered.

During the summer we were allowed a number of walks on parole, but as the result of a "strafe" ordered by General von Hänisch, they were discontinued, a pity as the surrounding countryside was attractive. At the end of August, I wrote, "We had a racquets tournament but I did not get very far, being knocked out in the second round. Directly the weather gets better, they are going to have a foursome golf tournament but for the last few days it has poured with rain and the greens have been flooded. It is miserable being confined to our huts all day after being able to enjoy the open air for so long".

An exchange of prisoners had been arranged between the Dutch, German and British authorities and several parties of the longest serving prisoners were shipped off to Holland where they were interned, though with plenty of freedom to move around, at Schevengen. I wrote in September, "The exchange to Holland seems to be going very slowly and we have not had the doctors here yet. Except for the sick, there does not seem much chance of getting to Holland before Christmas. We had a dance last night and although everyone said they were too lazy to participate before it started, when it actually got going, the floor was full of prancing and cavorting Colonels and Majors - in fact there was hardly room for the rest of us. We have a new Lager officer here now, a rather aged Captain who speaks broken English".

When Jocelyn Lucas got to Holland, he sent a letter to the wives and parents of some of his friends left behind, describing our life at Clausthal. It was headed "Typical Day" and I quote from its contents:

"8.30. Roll out of bed - anyone in bed after 8.30 is liable to prison, so if a Hun officer happens to be in a bad temper he can get a full bag. Most people stay in bed as long as possible so as to make the day shorter ... a most desirable thing in prison life. The next thing after Appel, which takes place at 9.15 when we all parade whatever the weather in front of the Kurhaus and are counted, is a douche if it happens to be a bath day. There are four douches, two of which never work, one of the others condescending to dribble and the fourth being all right, if a little slow. As some 250 officers have to have their whack, it will be seen that they are liable to some inconvenience and if they are lucky they get a little water to wash off the soap. The douches are nominally open from 7.30 to 9.00, but as a rule only work properly for a short while. If there is hot water, it is boiling and no cold available. If it is cold, the chances are the hot will only come on for a few minutes. A favourite trick played by the German N.C.O. in charge, is to let a number of officers wet themselves, and then as there is a long queue of soapy bodies waiting, off goes the water. Of course if you wait for ten minutes it may come on again, but the chances are it won't. On the other hand, if you don't wait, it is sure to come on as soon as you go away! If you give up the idea of a douche and don't come at all, the solitary visitors will declare that they had the bath of their lives.

“Next the most important event is BREAKFAST. I put this in capitals for we love our food in prison if only for the reason that there is nothing else to love and it fills up so much of an otherwise long and monotonous day. However as we got up late, we have to eat it quicker than Mr Gladstone eats his, if only for the reason that if we don't bolt it, we shan't have time to finish it for we must be out on Appel by 9.15 and it means three days in "clink" if late, besides keeping others waiting in the cold. Still, a certain number play the game of "last across the road". This is much helped by the fact that the exit door is very small and there is always a queue to get out so that the late comers have time to bolt a cup of tea and swallow some bread and marmalade before being chased out by a sentry. A favourite trick of the Hun is to lock the door from the outside before everyone can get out. Of course if this is spotted, the position is rushed and the sentry pushed back until all are clear. Occasionally it succeeds and those enterprising people who get out by the window, drop into the waiting arms of a sentry who marches them straight down to jug...”

On Appel, a notice is read out to the effect that certain officers are required immediately after Appel is finished. These usually belong to the same room and have for some reason or other incurred the spite or enmity of "Whistling Rufus" the Berlin detective. They return to find a posse of soldiers outside their doors and accompanied by a German officer who has to be present on these occasions, and by several satellites. They are allowed to look on while their beds, boxes and general belongings are searched for forbidden articles. These include everything from maps and compasses, down to candles, flasks and the envelopes of letters from home. Dictionaries bought in Germany come into this category if not expensive ones, as the cheaper ones can apparently be used for a code. After everything has been put into the passage and the wall paper pulled down in places, the floor is examined and everything where things could be hidden is ransacked. Failure to find any contraband means nothing, as if Rufus feels annoyed, he will drop in a day or two later. After all this is over, the officers concerned are graciously allowed to put their things back.

A word about the parcel system may be of interest. It is certain that while a certain number of parcels do not arrive, notably if they contain boots, the majority do turn up. These are given out at the rate of about 200 a day, so that if a lot come in, the delivery is spread over several days. Bread however, gets issued fairly well. The tins are taken away to the Tin Room, of which more anon. Things such as sugar and tea are handed out, but a receptacle must be brought for them as nothing is given out in its original wrapper or container. Toothpaste is confiscated but can be squeezed out if wished. Under the direct orders of General von Hänsch, soap is cut into little pieces and bread from neutral Red Cross Societies is cut into pieces. This no doubt for fear of concealing maps or compasses. This is now done by a machine instead of by a bayonet as before. The General's soul-inspiring words to his staff were, "Cut up their bread into slices, cut up their soap into small pieces, and remember you are German". Two people can normally draw parcels at a time but the rate of progress is slow as everything is examined with great care. Books, after having the owner's name inscribed in them, are taken away and sent to the censors where they remain from three weeks to three months unless, as sometimes happens, they get lost. It is somewhat unfortunate that there is no means of telling whether a book has been confiscated or lost - the result is the same. A book which has passed the censor is stamped with an official stamp, which varied from camp to camp. Some of these have been successfully duplicated, so that if by a sleight of hand an officer has been able to steal his own books, he takes them to a brother officer in charge of the counterfeiting department and has them stamped forthwith. This is particularly useful in the case of books which would not pass the censor on account of their contents. It is sometimes possible by gumming the cover of a frivolous novel over the outside of a book on the war without the censor doing more than glance at the cover.

Tins are given out every day and 40 messes are allowed into the Tin Room at a time, varying in number from one to four officers per mess. As there are about 120 messes, it means that every officer can get in every three days. Before this system came into vogue, eight days was the average and people spent hours waiting in a queue. No officer can take out more than six tins at a time. The method of procedure is as follows - the first on the list hands a list of tins required by himself and his mess, stating in which lockers they are to be found. A Hun then gets them out and another Hun opens them and puts the contents in dishes which you have brought to receive the contents. Some of the Huns work fairly well but others give you vegetables for milk and say "No jam" although twelve tins of jam repose in the locker under his nose.

The Canteen is chiefly remarkable for the high prices charged for everything. It is run by the wife of the proprietor of the Kurhaus - a large fat woman by the name of Frau Wedekind. Each officer is given a wine card which enables him to purchase a limited number of bottles each month. The non-drinkers trade in their cards to the boozers! The ration is two bottles per week or six per month. But the prices are astronomic. Formerly, three bottles of white wine and three glasses of so-called port or sherry could be acquired weekly, but the allowance was cut down as it was found that some officers drowned their sorrows by drinking too deeply. From two to four officers usually mess together and all meals have to be taken in the Dining Hall. The washing up is done in rather primitive form as the supply of hot water is limited. Cooking is done in the kitchen and is free of charge. This saves a lot of trouble. English orderlies are now employed in place of the French who were dismissed in disgrace at the same time as the German women cooks. The work mainly consists of cooking porridge in the mornings and such things as eggs and bacon. For the rest it is merely a case of putting already cooked food to warm up. As the space is limited, all who can make use of their own "campite" or use a "Tommy" cooker. The supply of boiling water for tea making is very poor and is seldom if ever hot. The Germans supply nothing for breakfast except ersatz coffee made from roasted acorns. Lunch consists of vegetable soup. Sometimes the vegetables are inside the soup and sometimes outside. Meat of a sort in minute portions is supplied once or twice a week. It is often in the soup and then often in someone else's tureen. In the summer fruit and vegetables can sometimes be bought from the canteen at fancy prices. Supper consists of two tiny rolls of bread or potatoes, but usually "Gemuse suppe". i.e. vegetable soup. But these rations are supplemented by our supplies. The bread ration - one small loaf of Kriegsbrot made largely from bran and potato flour is not issued to us but can be bought at the canteen. As most officers get Copenhagen or Swiss bread there is never any difficulty in getting the full ration and more if necessary. Danish bread is incomparably the best of any sent us and arrives in good condition, whereas the Swiss bread always arrives hard and the English bread is hopeless in warm weather unless sweetened, such as currant bread.

We are normally supposed to have one orderly per six officers. They are usually drawn from those who have worked in the mines and have broken down there. The result is that some are permanently ill, while others throw a fit if work is mentioned. The sound ones are taken off to work for the Germans and as soon as an unfortunate orderly gets sufficiently well to be of any use at all, he gets sent back to a men’s camp from which he is drafted to work.

Officers are paid monthly in camp money - the amount depending on rank. For a considerable period last winter the only lights outside the Dining Hall were in the passages - those in the huts being on for about fifteen minutes to allow us to go to bed. Candles were "Streng verboten". The official reason given for lack of lighting was there was "no benzine". However acting on information received, a threat was conveyed to Baumgarten the electrician to give him away for taking bribes, and so he conveniently discovered a number of drums which had been mislaid. It was simply part of the official efforts to make us as uncomfortable as possible. The lights never go on in the building until it is too late to play cards.

The cells are a perfect boon to the weary and sixteen have been added to the original two for the convenience of officers since the camp was turned over to the English. Lights and fires and a room to oneself, however small - who can want more? No trouble in preparing food - it is sent over by an unselfish mess-mate and in the winter can be warmed up on the stove. Of course no exercise is allowed unless the sentence is over a month. This can be a little tiresome but for three days is as good as a rest cure and is quite the fashion both from inclination and otherwise.

Police dogs are used to guard the camp at night but usually they are harmless as the sentries do not know how to handle them. One sentry merely kicked his dog who barked at some officers lying in the grass cutting the wire at night so that they got away, though eventually recaptured. There are two dogs belonging to two detectives recently imported who are not so well behaved. Attempts to fraternise with the dogs are punished with cells. "Whistling Rufus" is the nickname of the Berlin detective who is always whistling for his dog. He is more obnoxious than the other "tecs" and visits our room continually at night with his dog and does not mind waking everybody to see if they are still there. He visits rooms at any time with his hat on and examines books and letters in his capacity as "Criminelle" as he described himself.

If a prisoner wished to mope he can do so though he is a nuisance to his companions. If he wished to sulk he can do so if he is silly enough. If he has a sense of humour he gets on all right. There is much amusement to be got out of our situation if only it is looked at in the right light and of course the officers are much better off than the men. Clausthal is by no means a good camp, but the surroundings are pleasant in summer and there are many worse. No Hun can go on being malevolent for ever if he is treated as a joke and he gets tired of trying to carry out oppressive regulations. The highest authorities are the ones to blame. When the German armies are doing badly regulations are relaxed, only to be re-imposed when they can score up

some successes. Various improvements have recently been made such as a cinema on Sundays and life is bearable with the prospects of exchange to look forward to.

At Christmas time the A.D.S. put on a pantomime - Cinderella and in January, "Charlie's Aunt". The actor who played the real "Aunt" was made up so funnily that when "she" arrived on the stage the audience howled with laughter for quite five minutes. Luckily he did not lose his self control and so the play went on successfully. Parcels continued to arrive and someone had a letter from Colonel Bond in Holland which he had reached about a fortnight ago. He seemed to be enjoying himself. Captain Boger, with whom I continue my Russian studies, is next on the list. He is a very nice fellow and I shall miss him. Married on August 4th, 1914, he was captured in October of that year.

Christmas 1917 was celebrated with a number of parties and in January the papers reported a heavy snowfall - up to 70cm. deep. After the successful German offensive against the British 5th Army on the Somme in March 1918 when the Germans pushed our troops back nearly as far as Amiens and took many prisoners, the Kaiser issued an order of the day requiring celebrations to be held. The German population short of food and dispirited badly needed cheering up. We were paraded in front of the Kurhaus and addressed by Niemeyer surrounded by his troops and standing on a raised platform. He made a lengthy oration saying, "Vell Yentlemen, for you ze var vill soon be over. Unser Kaiser has given an order that the flags shall be hoisted and that we should cheer the German victories." Whereupon he gave the command, "Fahnen Herauf”, and the German ensign was hoisted to the top of the flag pole. The Commandant ended by telling us that "thousands of Yermans are going vest every day", not realising what this conveyed in British slang. There was a long burst of cheering from the British officers who were delighted to know that their enemies were being slaughtered! The parade ended and we returned to our rooms highly amused. But what were Niemeyer's thoughts were never revealed.

On the 1st April, 1918, the Royal Flying Corps and the Royal Navy Air Service were combined to form the Royal Air Force. Having been seconded from my Worcestershire T.A. battalion to join the R.F.C., I was now seconded to the R.A.F. with the rank of Flying Officer, and changed my double-breasted R.F.C. uniform (known as a "Maternity Jacket") for the khaki uniform originally issued to the R.A.F.

April 1918. The days are lengthening and spring is on its way. We hear from the Swiss papers that peace with Russia has been declared, so must expect German troops to be transferred to the West. Their March offensive on the Somme seems to have petered out, after recapturing much of the ground we took in 1916. In a letter to my sister dated May 15th, "This will be full of the one important topic - to Holland or not to Holland. Facts first - the last party left on May 12th and brought the list up to July 1916 - so I am just two months off it. Provided the exchange continues (as will be learned later, it came to a halt) I should be there before the end of July. This waiting and wondering has been the worst time for anyone since we were captured. It is almost impossible to settle down to anything for more than a few moments. So the only thing to do is either to doze in the sun or to wander round looking like a poor specimen of the tramp class, wearing a large pair of down-at-heel old boots, dirty, very aged grey bags, a much torn and mended cardigan, a cap which can hardly be recognized as such, complete the outfit".

Tennis and golf are both going strong, though only one tennis court is in use at present - the other being re-surfaced! Parcels continue to arrive so life, though boring, was reasonably satisfied. A party of Merchant Seamen officers arrived in the camp - all taken prisoner by the German raider "Wolf". Six Jap officers appeared one day but left shortly afterwards for another camp so we had little chance of talking to them.

At last, in August orders came for those of us captured in the autumn of 1916 to move to Holland. We gave away various treasures accumulated over the past months, packed our bags and marched to the station and took a train for Aachen, where we were housed in a Technical High School building. Sanders, Molloy, Helder, Wingfield and Money came with me. The guards said, "Tomorrow you will be in Holland", but time passed and nothing happened. The Dutch frontier was only a few kilometres distant and we were allowed several walks "on parole" in charge of a German Lieutenant. Many of us were struck down by an attack of influenza which was raging at the time. We lay in bed suffering from high temperatures with only some weak gruel to sustain us. When we recovered we were so run down that we could hardly climb the stairs - in fact we crawled up on hands and knees, having searched the rubbish bins for crusts. The Germans, particularly in the towns, were getting very short of food. Having consumed the tins we had brought with us for the train journey, we were back on vegetable soup and "Kriegsbrot". After six weeks of waiting we had to sustain a severe shock - being informed that the exchange to Holland had broken down owing to the sinking of a British hospital ship on its way to pick up German prisoners from England. We were to be shipped back to a P.O.W. camp on the Baltic. So, packed tight in 4th class carriages, we wended our way by train via Berlin and after several nights, when it was difficult to get any sleep, duly arrived at Stralsund. Our new camp had been occupied by Russians and was on an island called Dänholm, separated from the city by a narrow stretch of water and crossed by small ferry boats. The island in peacetime had housed a garrison H.Q. and was provided with several blocks of barracks and other buildings. We messed in a hall some way from the barrack rooms in which we were housed. Sanitary provision was medieval and consisted of a circular structure, on the first floor of which was a circle of inclined "seats" and underneath the "shit cart" which was drawn out periodically to have its contents tipped. The Baltic winds blew strongly up the apertures which were only partly sealed by their seated occupants! When we arrived, there were about four hundred newly captured British prisoners, mainly taken in the German spring offensive. We - the old hands - had to teach them the various tricks and devices we had learned during our two years of captivity. Food was in very short supply but supplemented by a hoard of potatoes stored in cellars under our ground floor rooms. It did not take long for one of our experts to make a key and open up the door to the potato store. After a time some food parcels began to turn up - if I remember rightly, emanating from Holland and Switzerland.

Early in October a message came through to me to say that my youngest brother Eustace had been killed on September 27th, when serving with the Coldstream Guards, in an attack on the Canal du Nord. I had not seen him for the two years in which he had grown up since leaving Eton and going to an Officer's Training Unit at Bushey Park. My eldest brother Roger, who had transferred from the 4th Dragoon Guards to command a Company of the Rifle Brigade, had been badly wounded and had lost a foot earlier in the year. The War caused terrible casualties to those of my generation and in the post-war years, the country suffered from the loss of the thousands who would have become its leaders. The slaughter was terrible and many of my contemporaries at Eton fell by the wayside.

There was plenty of room in the camp for exercise and the German staff were fairly amiable and left us to ourselves. In October, three German-speaking officers from our barracks planned to escape, having acquired civilian clothes and forged identity and travel documents. One of them was Hugh Durnford - later to become Bursar of King’s College, Cambridge. One evening he walked to the ferry in his disguise as a workman - showed his pass to the sentry and spent some time in Stralsund until he could catch a train to Hamburg. From there he travelled in stages to the Danish frontier, crawled between two German sentry posts and got away to freedom. He wrote of his experiences as a P.O.W. in a book called "The Tunnelers of Holzminden". On the same day, a German speaking officer by name Ortweiler also got away and in time reached England.

There was not much to do to keep one occupied at Stralsund but the American forces had been flooding into France, the War with the Turks was over and at last it became clear that it was only a question of time before the Germans would be defeated. The autumn turned to winter and at last, in November, we heard that an Armistice had been signed.

We were told that there were some Russian officer prisoners locked up in an Asylum near Stralsund and I was asked by our Senior Officer to accompany him on a visit arranged by our captors as I could speak Russian, by this time quite fluently. Our Senior Officer was taken into one of the wards and was told by the German Superintendent that the Russians - who were in beds between two genuine mental cases, were suffering from various kinds of mental illnesses. Following behind, I was able to converse with several of the Russians - one of whom told me he had been sent to the Asylum as a punishment for having made several attempts to escape. Poor fellows - we could do little to help them and one hesitates to imagine what were their ultimate fates, either in German hands or in the hands of the Bolshevicks if they got back to Russia.

The German collapse came as a great shock to her ruling classes and with demoralised troops working their way home from the fronts, the climate was ripe for revolution and a Communist take-over. Soldiers and Workers Councils sprang up in several cities, among them Stralsund. Naval ratings from Kiel took over the Camp, appointed a Sergeant, who had previously looked after the camp hens, as Commandant. The German officers were summoned to the canteen, where they handed over their swords and left for the mainland. The elderly Second-in-Command of the camp - a distinguished looking cavalry officer who used to strut around looking impressive in his uniform with its black polished field boots - and a shako headgear - was to be seen in a knickerbocker suit of clothes and a porkpie hat which he removed as he bowed to his new masters.

We had not long to wait before we were sent off on a train which fetched up at Warnemunde, from where there was a ferry to Denmark. After crossing to Jutland - the mainland - we were housed in a camp, warmly greeted by the Danes who had managed to keep out of the War. The warmth of their welcome astonished and delighted us and at every stoppage the population, many of them wearing gala dress, provided refreshments. We were allowed to take walks without supervision and appreciated the luxury of sleeping between clean sheets. After a stay of about ten days, we went by train to the port of Aarhus, and embarked on a very smelly small steamer. The North Sea was rough. We were crammed tight in what cabins were available and most of us suffered from mal-de-mer - made worse by a diet of very greasy Irish stew! After a stormy crossing, we arrived at Leith, the port of Edinburgh, where we were greeted by local dockers who enquired, "Where have you been spending the War?" R.F.C. officers were sent to Scarborough where we were interviewed and after telling our various stories covering experiences of becoming prisoners-of-war, we were allowed to go off on leave. I ended up in London, just before Christmas, at my Uncle's house in Lennox Gardens where my Mother was staying. It took some time to accommodate oneself to a normal way of living, but early in January I set off for Cambridge and entered Trinity College three years later than originally planned.

The University was settling down to the upheavals caused by the War. The undergraduate body was a mixed one - Service people like myself, youngsters coming up from their schools, a contingent from the Navy of Sub-Lieutenants whose education had paused when they joined their ships as midshipmen, and a number of American officers wearing medal ribbons and gold bars on their sleeves indicating how many months they had been on active service. It was not always easy to get them to appreciate that some of us had seen up to four years of war and in several cases, earned decorations and held senior rank. My Tutor was a classic and took little interest in his pupils reading for science or technological degrees. So one had very little tutorial advice or assistance. I did not feel I could tackle an Honours Course so settled for an ordinary degree in Engineering. It was not easy to resume academic work and after struggling with lectures which I found difficult to understand, I went to a private coach who helped me to take a First class in the first part of the engineering course and a Second class in my Finals. To amuse myself I took Russian lessons with a Polish undergraduate and passed the oral examination of the Modern Languages Tripos with flying colours. So in the summer of 1920, I went to the Senate House wearing the appropriate hood and gown and received my degree.

I was too late to get into College but had comfortable rooms in St. John's Street, which I shared with another Etonian, Gerard Staveley Gordon, who was also reading engineering. Most of my meals were taken in the Pitt Club, though one had to dine or lunch in Hall the specified minimum number of times a week and put in an appearance in Chapel.

My free time was spent on the River Cam where I rowed in the Third Trinity Eight which went Head of the River in Mays, bumping Pembroke and Jesus on the first two days and rowing over on the following two days. We had a good crew, captained by Clarence Buxton who had rowed in the University Boat before the war and was President of the C.U.B.C. We were coached by two old Blues - Roly Nelson and Robin Arbuthnot. Two of our crew gained Blues - Herbert Boret and John Fremantle - who was 9th man in 1920. We did well that year in the Lents, making several bumps. But in the Mays lost our place to Jesus as Head of the River and at Henley where we were coached by the famous oar, Brigadier Gibbon, we were beaten after a close race in the anti-finals by the ultimate winner of the Ladies Plate, Christchurch.

So ends my story and military career, being demobilised from the Army and R.A.F. in March, 1919 - just four years after being commissioned into the 2/8 Bn. of the Worcestershire Regiment.

Postscript. What happened to my fellow officers in Room 68? Sanders went to South Africa and returned to farm in the East Midlands. Helder, who had intended to join the Church, became a dentist. Wingfield became a chartered accountant, working in London. Money rejoined his Regiment for a time and then went barn storming in New Zealand, ending his military career as Adjutant of a R.A.F. Reserve Squadron. All others have died except Tom Molloy who rejoined his Regiment - the Dorsets - ending up as a Colonel and for some years has lived in Malta.

September 1970.