About January or February of 1917 persistent rumours began to go round that the Huns were concentrating all the British in camps by themselves. I believe their idea in having mixed nationalities in the camps at first was based on the hope that we might quarrel among ourselves, but when we did not do anything of the kind - all being at one in our hatred of the enemy — they decided it would be easier to handle us if each nationality were in camps of their own.
Be that as it may, orders were received at Osnabruck at the beginning of the year that the British were to be moved to another camp. Leaving that camp will always be remembered by those who were there. After our luggage and ourselves were searched for "verboten" articles we were all lined up in the square preparatory to being marched off to the station, The French and Russians who were of course watching the proceedings, started to sing their respective National Anthems and followed this by giving three vociferous cheers for their British-Comrades, to which we enthusiastically replied. Things began to hum then. The Kommandt first went red in the face and then white with anger and drawing his sword he made a rush at the French and Russians but when he saw they were waiting for him with an ugly look on their faces he deemed discretion was the better part of valour, and turning, ran back to the waiting sentries, ordered them to fix their bayonets and charge the crowd of Officers who by this time had all disappeared inside the house, the doors of which were locked and I expect were kept so for the remainder of the day as a punishment.
We were chased out of camp after that with a long line of sentries on each side of the column, to see that nobody tried to hop it. This was extremely unlikely as it was freezing hard and the ground was several inches deep in snow. Even the boldest spirits would hardly have dared to face a week of this in the open and preferred to wait for better conditions; After a long Journey we arrived late that night at Clausthal station, being a small place high up in the Hartz Mountains, amidst very beautiful scenery. The camp faced the famous Lochan into which as our History book has it the Pied Piper marched the Children of Hamlin.
We were not to see the camp that day, however, because we learned that the party of French whose place we were taking; were not due to leave until the next day. We were all shut up in the refreshment room with our guards for the night. The Hun in charge of our party was either a bit of a sport or else he had been told that the British Officers were a hard drinking lot and that if he could get us all pretty happy, there was less chance of any of us trying to escape.
Be that as it may, he ordered the fellow who kept the refreshment room to do his best. His best was quite a large plateful of cold bacon and actually white bread a thing we all thought was quite unobtainable in Germany. Also he had a large and splendid cellar of pre-war German wines which he handed out without any question of price being asked. We heard about that later. The first job we set ourselves to accomplish after having satisfied our hunger was to get as many of our guard incapable in as short a time as possible. In this I am glad to say we were entirely successful as all our guard were very soon dragged into a small room adjoining ours and the door shut on them for the night.
I expect they were like us in that they had not tasted such stuff since the War started and not much of it even before that. I sorry to say, however, that in making the Huns incapable, a great many of our own fellows were pretty much in the same condition. One amusing story is told of a hitherto teetotal young officer, who on half a glass of port wine went striding up and down the room wearing a German Helmet and brandishing a German Rifle left behind by one of the now snoring sentries and vowing dire vengeance on the first Hun that happened to come through the door. Lucky for him and probably the rest of us, none of them did, and the bold young officer soon fell asleep with the rest of his weary comrades.
The following morning we had to plough our way up to the camp a distance of perhaps two miles, although to some with sore heads it probably seemed like ten, through some two or three feet of snow. Those with little to carry fared best. Some individuals were carrying almost all they possessed and by the time the camp was reached it was nearly a question of carrying the owners also.
Arrived at the carp we found the departing French Officers who were to take our places in Osuabruck ready to move Off. In the brief interval allowed, we did our best to tell them what sort of a place they were going to, they in turn giving us their opinion of our new camp . We later on heard by channels peculiar to prison camps that the French in Osuabruck were badly strafed for some time by the Huns whose excuse was that the French were ill-treating their prisoners.
Clausthal camp was supposed to be one of the best in Germany and for the first few weeks we certainly found it a great improvement on Osuabruck. To begin with the German Kommandt was a gentleman and did his best for us. Most of the British prisoners we found to be 1914 people, the majority being of field rank which probably accounted for the better conditions we found prevailing in Clausthal.
The weather here is really worth a word or two in passing. From January to the end of April we never saw the colour of the ground, the snow lying to a depth of several feet, and the camp being high it was naturally very cold, but a beautiful crisp, dry cold which one did not feel to the same extent as in this country. We were allowed to ski and toboggan inside the camp. The Toboggan run was a very fine piece of work, for although the space was very limited the run took innumerable twists, turns, steep upgrades and small precipitant drops running over which, created great excitement. Altogether Clausthal for the first few weeks was the happiest time I had in Germany. Our home letters and parcels were arriving regularly and we were left more or less to ourselves by the Huns, so that for prisoners of War, apart from how long our imprisonment might have to be undured, we had very little to grumble at.
But alas; this state of things was not to be enjoyed for long. About the end of February orders were received by the Kommandt, from the 10th Corp Headquarters at Hanover that reprisals were to be taken against all British Officers in this command for some alleged cruelty to German prisoners in England , and our gentlemanly Kommandt rather than have the carrying into effect of these reprisals resigned his command, his place being taken by one of the now famous Neimeyer brothers. The English Press from time to time have published stories of their ill treatment to prisoners. Probably some of these stories were only half believed, but of all the Huns I was unfortunate enough to run against I never met the equal of these two brothers. Short of actually killing anyone, although they both tried to do so several times, they did their utmost to make our lives as miserable as possible.
Picture to yourself a big, stout, overfed brute, With a very florid complexion, small bright blue eyes, close cropped hair and a square aggressive jaw with a cigar always stuck in the corner of a large flabby mouth, and you have got the Neimeyer Brethren to a T, for I never saw twins so much the living image of each other as these two were. This particular one at started off by trying the Hail-fellow-well—met stunt on us, but soon found by experience that he did not get much change and so went to the other extreme and did everything in his power to show us he was the Cock-of—the-walk. One order he used to try and enforce was that we must all salute him when he came into the camp, and it must always have been a humiliating sight to him to see the crowd of officers who were always to be found on his approach and walk the stopped, and in addition our time were stopped altogether the camp, turn their backs other way. Walks and all games were soon stopped, parcels started to go missing and at one for six weeks because someone had helped himself to a German overcoat, the order being given out that until it was returned we could starve.
Needless to say we did not give in and the coat was never returned but figured prominently months later in a very clever escape when a naval officer successfully impersonated Neimeyer himself. This state Of things was brought to a close by a visit from Berlin of a member of the staff Of the Kreigsministerum from whom we obtained some slight redress. The breaking up of winter set a large number thinking of escape and a tunnel was started by a select party, below our wooden barrack
[To be continued...]
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