A serious old philosopher once said that every man had his price. That may be true but I don’t agree with it in principle. My early training taught me that the man who offers a bribe is a lower parasite than the man who accepts it and experience has not altered my views. But, a more serious old philosopher came forth expounding the doctrine that everything is fair in love and in war. According to my way of thinking this second boy was on the right track. So, when my German captors took me down and with a lot of ceremony, deposited me in the camp calaboose, a hasty examination of the barred windows and the tremendous lock on the door almost convinced me that my only hope was to experiment with that philosophy of price, as my biggest asset happened to be a pocket full of prison money, which, if acceptable at all, would have to be disposed of at a discount. At any rate, I was determined to get out—the means might require bribery and it might require lies. Whatever was necessary to effect my state of freedom, so long as it was honorable, was in 254my mind the privilege of the prisoner—for it was fair in war.
The cell was not so bad; in fact, it was much better than the quarters I had in camp, except that I was alone. I had a German orderly who took care of me, which convenience was something foreign in the regular camp. First appearances were so attractive that I thought it unfortunate I hadn’t discovered it before. In the morning the interpreter came around to see how things were going along. I told him “Fine, except that I wanted something to eat,” an habitual complaint among prisoners. There was the rub, for he informed me that when in solitary imprisonment in jail you only receive a portion of German food and that under no circumstances are you allowed any supplemental food from the Red Cross.
So, about nine o’clock this orderly brought me my breakfast which consisted of a bowl of Ersatz coffee and that was all. Believe me, the scarcity left a funny empty feeling in my stomach that decided the question at once—bribery it would be.
In the afternoon, when one of the calaboose corporals came around on his hourly inspection, I figured that he was a pretty good guy to play up to, so I knocked the old boy sick by offering him a pipeful of my real, American tobacco, which had been given me by a fellow prisoner, Lieutenant Shea of the 26th Division, who handled the Red Cross supplies at Karlsruhe. Shea was a real guy; he was fearless and while under very strict German regulations, 255he always allowed his staunch Americanism to be seen by Germans and Americans indiscriminately. This German Corporal had a whopper of a pipe for he made a big hole in my already slim sack and tobacco was as scarce as desert icebergs. How his eyes sparkled when he lighted it. These Germans had been smoking ground cabbage leaves for almost four years and were getting mighty tired of it.
“Sehr gut, sehr gut,” he ejaculated many times, sniffing the old time aroma.
Then, he warmed up and we got to talking. It finally dwindled from the war generally to our own family histories. He was in great distress. He had lost four sons in the war, and what he considered much worse, his two daughters would probably never be able to get husbands, for so many men had been killed. I thoroughly sympathized with him and agreed that it was all wrong to require such a sacrifice of him. Then he told me what his army pay was—it was very small—and he said he had been in the war five years. I told him how much the American soldiers received, which surprised him very much and seemed fabulous.
His understanding was that only the poor people had gone to war for America—the sons of the rich men stayed at home; and further, that practically all Americans of German descent had absolutely refused to take up arms against the Fatherland. I refuted this latter remark as well as the first—I told him that both my father and mother were German, having both been born in Berlin, and that my father 256was a very wealthy man, but I had to go into the service because all the young men had to become soldiers—the rich and poor alike had gone into the war and it didn’t make any difference whether they were German-Americans, or just plain Americans, they had all gone. So, he asked me what I did before the war, and being a pretender for the purpose I had in mind, I assumed a thoroughly shocked attitude at such a question, and informed him that before the war, my father being very rich, I didn’t do anything except go to college as “dad” came across with twenty thousand marks a year for spending money alone. The old boy’s eyes popped open to the size of an owl’s. He thought such an allowance fabulous and criminally extravagant. I filled him full of a lot of this hot air about the war, and especially my own financial stability, for I expected to sooner or later establish my credit with him.
We parted the very best of friends and to cinch it I gave him another pipeful of tobacco. The next morning the rather expected happened; he came to talk some more and to further test my depleted supply of Red Cross tobacco. Our second conversation ended with my parting with seventy-five marks cash, and a promissory note for seven thousand five hundred marks, payable three months after the war, in consideration for which the old boy was to leave the outer latch open that night and slip me a screw driver with which to manipulate the inner latch, and, at my request, he arranged a guard and that afternoon I went out and took my first exercise. The 257guard was a measly, withered-up shrimp, who spoke quite a little English, as he had been in America. His knowledge of American people and of American customs gave me a new field of activity. He told me that he was on guard that night around this same area, about eleven o’clock, so I cautiously sounded him out as to whether he was particularly scrupulous or whether he might accept a little bribe. Laughingly, he told me that like all other men in the world he supposed that he had his price, but that it was high enough that it could not possibly interest me.
“Well,” I said, manifesting surprise, “you’ve heard of my father, haven’t you, since you’ve been in America?”
“No,” he said.
“What!” I ejaculated. “Oh, you certainly have heard of J. P. Morgan, Haslett & Co., of Wall Street.”
Of course, he understood the first and last parts and the old boy stood still in his amazement, for that “J. P. Morgan” and my connection therewith had simply hypnotized him. Suddenly he became cordial to the extreme. After blushing in honest modesty I got down to business.
“You’ve been in America long enough to know what notes are, haven’t you? If you give your note it’s as good as gold, any time, any place, any where.”
“Ja,” he affirmed, nodding his head. “I know that.”
258“Well,” I went on, “all that is necessary is a little cash consideration given with a note and it is good. Just like a contract.”
He agreed perfectly.
“Well,” I said, feeling like a street-corner politician, “name your own price.”
After considerable hemming and hawing around about it, he surprised me by naming five thousand marks, which then was about one thousand dollars, one hundred marks to be in cash, and my note for the remainder.
He agreed to buy me a map and compass, to bring them in, and leave them wrapped in an old rag at the foot of an iron post which he pointed out; and he agreed that as he was to be on duty that night about eleven o’clock he would not see me as I went over the fence on his post. He told me the exact spot where he would be standing between eleven and eleven ten, so that I could avoid him.
As to the financial arrangements he was to take me to the jail and then go over to the canteen at my request to buy me some paper, which purchase was approved. In the meanwhile I was to prepare the note and dig up the coin.
As he came in the Corporal came with him as no one was supposed to enter the room without the Corporal, but just as he laid my purchase on the table the telephone rang and the Corporal had to step away temporarily, which gave me the opportunity I needed. I handed the guard the piece of 259I.O.U. paper and a hundred marks in prisoners’ money. The deal was closed.
All the remainder of the afternoon I carefully laid my plans. This time it looked like a clean get-away, but there is always something to take the joy out of living, for about four o’clock the interpreter came around with the prison paymaster, who told me to turn in all my money for which they wrote me out a receipt. I decided that I had been double-crossed by the Corporal; the other guard would not have had time since the act.
“You had more than this the morning after we had you searched,” the paymaster said after perusing a big ledger.
“Yes,” I stumbled, “but I sent some of it back to one of my friends to whom I owed some money.”
Then they put all my fears to rout by telling me that I was leaving at five o’clock with a transport of prisoners, going to a permanent camp. This was simply hard luck, because as I figured it, it was absolutely impossible for either the other Corporal or the weazened-up old guard to give this plan of mine away. Furthermore, they would not have dared.
Well, that was finished for me, so, I asked the interpreter where we were going, and about my sentence. Like all other Germans he pulled the Kultur stuff by telling me that I was being sent to a fine, big camp and that my penalty here was finished. So, he and the officer left and the door was locked behind.
260Immediately it was again unlocked; the old German Corporal came in, highly excited because he thought the visit of the officer meant that they had gotten something on him. I told him I was going to leave at once for a permanent camp.
“Oh,” he whispered, really surprised, “then you will not escape to-night.”
Upon affirming this statement that I was really leaving, the old fellow, to my utter surprise, looked around to see that no one was looking in the window, then closed and bolted the door behind him and handed me back my money and my note. Here was a real, decent old guy. I believed in his sincerity, and German or not, if I ever have a chance to do anything for that old fellow I’d do my best to do it, for he was absolutely honest, no matter what one might say as to his patriotism. I gladly gave the old fellow the last bit of tobacco I had and when I left we parted real friends.
But, the other old fossil—of course, I didn’t have a chance to see him, and my one hundred marks, together with my large note, was gone to the devil. Of course, I didn’t worry about the note; I never intended to pay that any way, if for no other reason than the fact that it would bankrupt me even though the mark is not now worth much at all.
I marched down to the train with the rest of the transport, and here again they sent a tag along with me, telling of my bad record. They honored me with several guards personally assigned, while the rest of the party had about one guard for every 261four prisoners. We traveled for about thirty-six hours in third-class coaches and were, indeed, tired and worn out and sleepy. But, in spite of German efficiency and secret service, within a few hours after starting we all knew by well founded rumors that we were going by way of Münich to a place called “Landshut.”
At Münich we were taken off of the train and given some food, which consisted of powerful limburger cheese and a little piece of dog sausage, with a hunk of dainty potato bread. In spite of their intense hunger, some of the boys could not possibly go that cheese so, showing resourcefulness, I made a collection of it for I thought it might come in handy later on. I gathered so much that I was a human cheese factory; I had that cheese stuck in my pockets, I was carrying it in my hands and I even had some of it securely put away in my blouse, and all the way from Münich to Landshut, Bavaria, as I had nothing else to do, I ate cheese. Believe me, people knew I was coming a mile away. When that stuff began to get a little tepid, I was a man hated among men; extremely unpopular for a strong reason.
We were turned over to a new set of guards at the Landshut station and I noticed that they had lost my identity since I was not being given special attention, so, I mixed right in with the rest of the prisoners; that is, until they got a good whiff. The new sergeant, after lining us up, walked along the lines calling the names and checking up the prisoners. 262Standing directly in front of me, with his face about two inches from mine, he gruffly called, “Oberleutnant Haslett.”
“Here!” I bellowed, whereupon the German, getting the full benefit of the cheese, staggered and moved on.
I went up to the old abandoned estate known as “Traunitz,” which was a very beautiful and historic old court. However, we did not live in the castle. I think it was the servants’ quarters we had, for there were twenty-five of us in one room.
Landshut, itself, was a lovely little town; in fact, one of the most beautiful I have ever seen. The feature was the variety of church bells. They were ringing day and night, and the sounds ranged several octaves.
At this camp they took away our American uniforms and gave us old Russian prisoners’ clothes, with a big yellow stripe down the back of the blue uniform. I don’t know whether that “yellow streak” was supposed to have any real significance or not, but anyhow it was there.
At Landshut was imprisoned Captain Jimmy Hall, the James Norman Hall who was prominent for his “Kitchener’s Mob” and other books, and a very famous member of the Lafayette Escadrille. “Jimmy” was quite a character as he hobbled around the place—we all liked his wonderful democracy.
We had only been there a day or so when they began to inoculate us for, I think, every known disease. A big, fat, German Major stood there and in 263apparent delight, pumped serum into us like a baker fills creampuffs. The worst part was that he stuck us right in the chest. He was a good natured old duck who didn’t seem to take things seriously. Not only did he vaccinate us for smallpox, but he gave us shots of typhoid, para-typhoid, triple typhoid, typhus, tetanus and cholera, and what else I do not know. We were to have five jabs of the stuff, but when I took my first one I decided then and there that when I took the next it would be when I was held and given it by force. I never received another jab, for every time afterwards I went in with the in-going line, and after my chest had been painted with iodine by the Assistant to the Doctor, as the old boy would turn around to fill his needle for the next man, I would quietly step over in the outgoing line, and with many apparent indications of pain, passed to my bunk.
Immediately after this first jab was given and before the pain and fever had a chance to take effect I was mixing around with the boys, having a good time, when in came a Sergeant who, amidst considerable pomp and display, stated that the Captain commanding the Camp wanted to see Oberleutnant Haslett at once. I asked him what the officer wanted to see me about, but he didn’t know and I’m sure I didn’t, although I had a good strong hunch. As I still had my yellow-striped uniform, I put it on and went over. On the way over the Sergeant sympathetically ventured to tell me for fear that I did not know it, that the German officers were terrible 264men, very strict and stern and it was to my advantage to be very careful and to be absolutely military and courteous.
After considerable palavering around, the Sergeant ushered me in. Seated there at his desk was this potentate, the Commander of the Camp. I hardly knew how to figure him for he was a hard looking customer with the squinty eyes of a Chinaman, the pugnacious pug nose of a bull dog, and the mouth and jaws of an ape. However, he was groomed to the extreme. Take it from me, he was some little fashion plate all of his own. This was a combination, to my mind, extremely difficult to tackle. To be perfectly frank, he almost had my goat to start with. The thing that bothered me most was the charge.
I was a so............