Sixteen Months in Four German Prisons Part 23

"Ach! No matter. Get up. Outside!" he repeated.

"I'll see you d.a.m.ned first!" exploded Ca----, his Irish temper now roused to bursting point at the inhuman att.i.tude of the military medical official. Fortunately for my friend the individual in question did not understand a word of English, or there would have been trouble.

But feeling somewhat better and realising the uselessness of argument I persuaded Ca---- to obey instructions. Indeed I was bundled out of bed, and hastily a.s.sisted in re-dressing, by the doctor's orders. Pa.s.sing out of the hospital I paused to lean against the door, feeling downright ill and weak. Ca---- ran off to the barrack to fetch Dr. Ascher.

A young medical man came out of the hospital, and seeing my wan and haggard face, came up to me. He was certainly sympathetic.

"Heavens, man! You look downright ill!" was his comment.

"I reckon I don't look worse than I feel!" I replied caustically. "I've just been turned out of the hospital. What is going to happen?"

"Oh! You've got to go to Paderborn. You'll go into hospital there. The van will be up in three hours' time!"

At this intelligence I sank on a wooden seat. I felt, and indeed could no longer ward off, the belief that everything for me was rapidly approaching the end. As I sat there a prey to my worst thoughts, a soldier came out of the hospital and sat beside me. I looked up.

"Hullo! old man! From Mons?" I asked.

"Yes! Going to Paderborn. Says I'm sick," nodding towards the hospital.

The Tommy certainly looked as if the doctor had diagnosed a case correctly for once in his life.

"What's the matter?"

"Don't know for sure. But I heard the doctor whisper to an a.s.sistant that it was typhus!"

Despite my efforts to control myself I could not suppress a low whistle.

I looked at the soldier, and although my first inclination was to move away, I felt that, owing to my condition, it really didn't matter, so I spared the Tommy's feelings. In a few minutes another soldier came out.

He sat on the other side of me.

"Hullo! You from Mons too? You going to Paderborn?" was my query.

"Sure! Doctor says I've got typhus!"

This was alarming news, and I could not resist a feeling of extreme apprehension. While I was turning things over in my mind a third soldier came out whom I questioned, but he did not reply.

"He was blinded by a sh.e.l.l at Mons," commented one of the soldiers.

"Guess he's got it too. 'Strewth, isn't this a h.e.l.l of a hole? I'd sooner have fifty Mons's for a month than this h.e.l.l for a day!"

I certainly shared the opinion. But as I sat there I reflected upon the limited carrying capacity of the Paderborn hospital van, and the circ.u.mstance that I was likely to be crushed in with a host of typhus cases. I did not like the prospect a little bit. I made up my mind. I would not go to Paderborn at any cost.

Proffering a palpable excuse I sauntered away, finally entering the office in which the files of the registration of the British military prisoners were being prepared. A young German who in pre-war days had been a baker in Battersea, was in charge. I told him I was sick, but enquired, if receiving the requisite permission from the doctor, he would allow me to help him in the office. He agreed. I sought out Dr.

Ascher, explained that I had been consigned to Paderborn, but refused to go, and explained that I had the offer to go into the office if he would certify me for such work. After a little deliberation he acquiesced, and I took up the appointment with the result I have explained in a previous chapter. After a good night's rest I felt decidedly better. I returned to the field, only to find that my companions had experienced no improvement in their conditions, and that food was just as scarce as it had been since we were turned out of our barracks. I was successful in getting a little food to them, while another prisoner, now in England, sent up a little.

Strolling across the field I met a fellow-prisoner, Lord J----'s secretary. He looked so ill that I suggested he should take my place in the office, as I was now feeling much better. He refused at first, but at last I prevailed upon him to go. He would get a well-earned rest at all events, while the work was light and easy. The exchange of clerks was effected and with such success that the German in charge never detected the swop, which proves how imperfectly I had been scrutinised, and the laxity of the arrangements when you have learned how to circ.u.mvent the pit-falls and red-tape of Prussian organisation.

I was now back upon the field. One night the officers came round bawling out a request for the names of all prisoners who had friends in Germany.

Seeing that this question, together with a host of others, had been asked nearly every day, while sheets of papers were filled up at intervals of every few hours with a bewildering array of particulars, I ignored the interrogation. But one or two fellow-prisoners recalled the fact that K----, upon his release, had invited me to come to his home in Cologne if I ever got the chance. At first I declined to listen to the recommendations, but finally, in response to the incessant pesterings, I consented. Then the matter slipped from my mind.

The following morning my attention was arrested by the guard going round the camp singing at the top of his voice, "Ma-hone-i! Ma-hone-i!"

Surprised, and fearing that trouble was brewing because I had not gone to Paderborn as ordered by the military doctor, I presented myself. I was commanded to attend the office at once.

I sauntered off leisurely, and reaching the building, I supplied the officer in charge with my name and a host of other minute details as requested. Then turning to me, and holding a paper in his hands, he remarked:

"Herr Ma-hone-i! You are a free man!"

"What?" I yapped, scarcely believing I had heard aright, "A free man?" I almost cried with joy at the news. "Free to go home to England?" I asked excitedly.

"Nein! Nein!! Nein!!! But you have friends in Germany?"

My jaw dropped. I thought for a few minutes, and then I replied slowly, "Yes! I'll go provided I do not have to give my parole. That I will never do!"

He glared furiously at me.

"But that is as good as saying you'll try to escape," he went on.

"Exactly!" was my curt retort, and I looked at him defiantly.

The officer informed me that under these circ.u.mstances I should be kept back, but at this moment Dr. Ascher, who had been listening to the conversation, intervened, and as a result of his mediation I was told that I was free to go to Cologne, saying which a "pa.s.s" permitting me to travel to, and to move about that city, was proffered. I took the "pa.s.s."

"You've ten minutes to collect your belongings and to get out of the camp!" was his final abrupt remark. Although I pleaded for a little longer time in which to say farewell to my friends he was inexorable.

I rushed back to the field to communicate the news to my companions, and the hand-shaking which ensued was extremely fervent. All the boys congratulated me upon my good luck, but the tears were in their eyes.

The sympathy moved me, and I felt half-disposed to tear up my "pa.s.s" and stay with them to see it through. But they pushed me off. I had a hearty hand-shaking with Dr. Ascher, who wished me the best of luck, and expressed the hope that I would soon get home. Although he never admitted it I found out for a fact that he had been primarily responsible for my release. It certainly was characteristic of him. He cracked a parting joke, which restored the good humour and cheerfulness of the camp, and with my few parcels under my arm I left the ill-famed field.

The boys cheered like mad, but I was stirred more particularly by the roar of cheers which burst from the Tommies, with whom I had fraternised freely, and with whom a curious chumminess had sprung up. We were all companions in misfortune, and when the news of my release reached their field, they cl.u.s.tered along the fence to give me a parting rouser, which they certainly let go for all they were worth.

I regained the office within the stipulated ten minutes and then to my intense disgust learned that I had three hours to wait for a train. I sold my watch to secure a little ready money, and as I moved across the camps to be abruptly challenged by the sentries I was surprised to see them change their demeanour when I showed my "pa.s.s." They shook hands heartily and warmly congratulated me upon my good fortune. It was a strange metamorphosis and it affected me strangely.

Before I left the camp I was ushered into the presence of our arch-fiend, Major Bach. He rose from his desk and with a suavity and civility which made my blood surge, he remarked:

"Herr Mahoney, good-bye! I trust you will not think our treatment in the camp has been unduly severe!"

"I shall certainly not speak well of it," I retorted somewhat cynically.

"I shall never forget my experiences and I shall not omit to relate it to others. But there! I think my looks are sufficient. I must have lost three stone in weight during the past two months!"

"Well, I trust you will make allowances," he went on unctuously. "You must remember the times; that we are at war, and that our arrangements have not been organised for adequate accommodation!"

He extended his hand.

Shaking my head in a manner which he could not misunderstand I refused to take it.

He shrugged his shoulders and resumed his work. I left his office without another word.

Two minutes later I was striding rapidly towards the station, accompanied by another prisoner, a schoolmaster named E----, who had also been released on a "pa.s.s" and whom I have to thank for much a.s.sistance subsequently offered.

At last I was free from the torment and brutality of Sennelager Camp.

But as I watched the incoming train on that morning of September 16th, 1914, I could not refrain from dwelling upon the lot of the many hapless friends I had left behind, the agonies, miseries, the hopelessness of their position, and their condemnation to unremitting brutal travail which would doubtless continue until the clash of arms had died away. As Sennelager vanished from sight my companion and I gave deep sighs of relief. We felt that we had left h.e.l.l behind.