The modern débutante looks forward with no little anxiety to her “Coming Out.” It is naturally quite an event for, veritably, she is imprisoned, as it were, by the conventions which do not permit her to take her place among the friends of the inner circle until she has been formally presented by her “coming out.” So, the prisoners of war, even after the Armistice, were withheld from their friends until the “coming out,” which consisted of the formalities of turning the prisoners over to their friends. Naturally, it was quite an event. But, believe me, no débutante could possibly anticipate her “coming out” with the keenness and anxiety that the American prisoners of war could theirs. We, too, had planned it all—of course, not so much as to the clothes we would wear, but more especially as to the things we would eat.
Several days previous to the signing of the Armistice, we heard that the people of Bavaria had revolted, and that the will of the “Soldiers and Workmen” was paramount. Although locked in the confines of a prison camp, the proverbial little bird told us that something was in the air—indeed, one 277felt it in the atmosphere—for, if a new republic was formed, they were certainly not the enemies of the United States, so we would indeed soon be “coming out.”
The regulation cap of the German officer and soldier is adorned by two buttons in the front center—the top and larger button having the colors of the Imperial German Government in the form of a miniature cocarde, while the lower and smaller button is made up of the colors of the German State from which the officer or soldier hails. Thus, all the soldiers at our camp had the large German button and the smaller one of green and white, the colors of the State of Bavaria.
One day, around the first of November, we noticed that all the officers and soldiers of the camp, including the hardboiled Prussian Captain, had taken off the prominent German button. Then there was a definite certainty that the revolution was on. We did not know how loyal to the new Government the soldiers were going to be, and we were rather concerned as to what the attitude of the new Bavarian Republic would be toward us, for we had heard nothing about our release. All sorts of rumors began floating around that camp—some to the effect that the soldiers and workmen were coming up to mob us for being Americans, others, more popular, that they were coming up to release us, others that we were going to die of slow starvation on account of the shortage of food, and still others that we were going to be sent to Switzerland for protection.
278With all these things before us, a vigilance committee was formed, and we all got together and had a meeting. “Jimmy” Hall, being the senior officer present, automatically became chairman. So, the big question was “For whom would we declare?”—the old German régime or the new Bavarian revolutionary party. Naturally, on such a momentous subject, we had quite a number of bursts of oratory, and a lot of arguments were laid down on both sides of the question, but, at the same time, neither of us knew anything about either of them. We viewed it from an economical and military phase, but most of all, for the present at least, we looked at it from the standpoint of “things to eat.”
But judged by the solemnity and seriousness of the conference, the destiny of the world was seemingly at stake, so we asked one bird, who was sort of a jay, what he thought about it. “Mr. Chairman,” he said seriously, “I make a resolution that we declare that we are for the party that gets us out of Germany the fastest, and we don’t give a damn which one it is.” At that, the meeting almost ended in a riot, though in my mind the jay had absolutely the correct solution. Finally, it was decided that we would leave our fate to the council of three—the three most influential prisoners in camp, the controllers of the food supply, namely, the Red Cross Committee.
Shortly, conditions began to get real tense around there, and we actually didn’t know what was going to happen for, about our camp, the prison authorities 279had hoisted the red flag of Socialism. The few days during which that flag stayed there were the only days of my life that I have not been a Republican—I was a Socialist like all the rest of our boys, from force of circumstances.
Amid all this excitement, we were summoned together, and the official representative of the new revolutionary party came up to address us. Amid the quietness of death, the great man announced to us that he was now the great representative of the Great Revolutionary Party, and that the Great People of the Greater State of Bavaria had had a greatest revolution—not a bloody revolution like the Russians, but a quiet, orderly revolution, for realizing that the old government had failed to take care of the needs of the common people, the soldiers and the workmen of Bavaria had gotten together and had overthrown the monarchy. The outcome had been the ideal democratic form of government—a Republic—and the revolution had been entirely successful, for the soldiers and workmen were in complete authority and command and the old régime had been entirely displaced. “Indeed,” he said, “everybody realized the inevitable and made no attempt to stop the onward movement, and such a thing as mob violence or shooting has been unheard of.”
He had just started on his next sentence when, down in the town, a machine gun sputtered. We had been hearing pot shots occasionally for some time. So we all began to laugh. It was a rather embarrassing 280situation, and the old boy immediately modified his statement to the effect that in rare instances there had been a little shooting. Then he went on and blabbered about fifteen minutes more as to the aims of the new Government, what it had in mind, how it wished especially to be the friend of America and the good things it was going to do for the prisoners, and, as a Republic, the prisoners would, of course, be released. Here was the one thing that interested us, so, at this with one voice the prisoner colony responded, as if to a yell leader, “When!” The great man was almost taken off his feet by the anxious débutantes anticipating the “coming out.”
“Of course,” he went on graciously, “those are details that will have to be arranged later.” Our release may have been simply regarded as a detail to him, but we held it much more important. In fact, the situation looked so serious to us that only the continual talk of the general armistice kept the bunch from attempting a wholesale “coming out.”
Finally, the armistice came, and that day was the greatest of my whole life—not so much for the reason that I would soon be released, but because I was in a position to observe the Germans in absolute misery. I have heard a lot of people say that their arrogance was not affected by the armistice, but that is all bunk. They were humiliated to the extreme—they whined around like a pen of stuck pigs—they thought the terms of the armistice were terrible, inhumane, and impossible. As usual, they 281blamed it all on England. I could have stayed there for months just enjoying their misery in crying over the terrible terms laid down.
I was getting good and sick of the Germans, as such, for they had worked some good gags on us at that camp at Landshut. They took all our clothes, including shoes, to have them fumigated in order, as they said, to safeguard the health of the camp, and, as a substitute, they issued us old Russian prisoner uniforms. For shoes, they gave us some toy paper bedroom slippers, which could be bought in an American novelty store for a dime. To our surprise, in a few days these clothes were returned to us, unfumigated, in fact, untouched except thoroughly searched. It was the typical shell game under the guise of Kultur, for, at the end of the month, we found that we had been charged three dollars for the said shoes, and, since the Germans controlled the prisoners’ exchequer, the transaction would not permit of any argument.
Another time, I was soaked outright. The officer at my previous prison camp at Karlsruhe gave me a receipt for my fast dwindling purse. When I presented this receipt at Landshut, the authorities stated that they had no record of it, but that, if I would turn over this receipt to them, they would send it to Karlsruhe for verification. Like a boob, I turned the receipt over, and I have never seen it or the money since. I demanded the money several times afterwards, but demands, when a prisoner, do not carry a great deal of pull.
282Shortly after the armistice, the orders came for us to be taken to another camp, preparatory to our “coming out.” Our Red Cross food supply had been running short for some time, and, just the way things always happen, a carload of food arrived for us the day we started for the new camp. On our trip, they sent the customary number of guards along, including the sergeant interpreter of the camp, whose name was Kapp, and who was in charge of the party. The railways were congested, as they usually were in Germany, so Herr Kapp sat in our compartment, and his presence eliminated the necessity of the objectionable guards.
Herr Kapp was a well-to-do German of the middle class, an artist by profession, well educated, and about forty years old. The only objection I had to Kapp was that, like most other Germans, he was an habitual liar. However, he tried to be a good fellow, which was decidedly in his favor, and there was one other good thing about him—his unusually good sense of humor.
Realizing the uniqueness of our position, which happens only once in a couple of centuries, namely, being a member of the victorious army about to pass from the hands of the enemy, I sought to engage Herr Kapp in honest, frank conversation, since there could now be no reason for deceptions. After a while, he opened up, so I asked him when he considered the German cause was at its best. He said that it was undoubtedly in the early part of the War, when the Germans were at the gates of Paris. 283I asked him when he thought the tide had turned, and he said that the German people realized, on July 18, 1918, when the Allies attacked between Chateau-Thierry and Soissons, that thereafter Germany was fighting the War on the defensive.
“What,” I asked, “was the attitude of the German people toward their prospects of victory when America entered the War?”
“Well,” he calmly replied, “to a large number of the common people who, of course, read the Governmental propaganda, they only considered it as a big bluff, for they reasoned that it would be impossible for America to transport her army overseas. You see,” he went on, “the reports of the sinking of allied ships by our submarines had been greatly exaggerated, and the general public honestly thought that America could do no more harm as a belligerent than she could as a neutral, for she was so unprepared that, before she could possibly raise an army, the Von Tirpitz U-boat warfare would have brought the Allies to their knees. But,” he continued emphatically, “to us educated and thinking Germans, we quite well knew that, when America declared war, it was all over for us unless we succeeded in capturing Paris, which, of course, would paralyze the French Railway System, and cut off the Allies’ means of transportation and supply to the front. This was the reason for our big spring drive. It was a last hope, and we banked everything on its success. America won the war for the Allies.”
“Herr Kapp,” I said, “do the German people 284realize that America entered the war from purely unselfish reasons—only as a matter of principle—and that they expect to gain nothing materially?”
“Oh,” he laughed sarcastically, “how could any nation make the sacrifice that America was prepared to make and yet expect to gain nothing material from it. That is not to be expected. But,” he continued, “the truth of the matter is this. Your President had made us so many promises, so many speeches in which he stated that he was the friend of the German people that, when it came to the worst, we took him up—for the German people expected that he would make good on some of his utterances, but, when the terms of the armistice were made public, they knew that either Wilson had been overruled, or that the German people had been a bunch of suckers and had bitten the wrong bait.”
“But at that,” he emphasized, “the Germans feel no natural animosity toward the Americans, but they hate the French and despise the English.”
Kapp told us that our destination was Villingen, which was a prison camp in the State of Baden. The journey was very slow on account of the congestion, so the day before we arrived there, as we were sidetracked at one town, Kapp left us to call Landshut on the long distance. When he returned, we knew that something was terribly wrong—he was as pale as a ghost. Poor old Kapp! I never saw a man so nervous and upset. He acted like a rooky after being bawled out by a drill sergeant, and he fidgeted and twisted like an old maid about to say the 285words “I do.” Finally, I summoned enough courage to ask him what it was all about, for I thought perhaps that hostilities had been resumed.
“Anything wrong, Herr Kapp?” I asked.
“Wrong!” he ejaculated bitterly. “Hell, everything’s wrong!”
“What do you mean?” we all anxiously asked, for his attitude was just cause for alarm.
“Well,” he went on, “I have just called Landshut and they are demobilizing the camp to-day, and the men are all going to their homes.”
“What’s the matter with that?” I inquired, for this was to my mind the natural thing to do.
“Oh, my,” he said, surprised at our lack of understanding, “That car of Red Cross food arrived for you prisoners, and the rest of the camp officials will hook it all before I get back to get my share.”
All the way on the journey, Kapp had talked about the very nice girl he knew in Villingen, and that he was surely going to visit her for a few days before he returned to Landshut. So, as we were pulling into Villingen, I told Kapp that I certainly hoped he would have a pleasant visit with his girl friend at Villingen.
“Visit nothing,” he came back emphatically, “I’m going to turn you prisoners over to the authorities here and take the first train back to Landshut. There may yet be a little of that Red Cross food left.”
Villingen was a real prison camp—believe me it was, compared to those we had been in. They had 286real spring mattresses, a prisoners’ orchestra, a couple of pianos, a library, a tennis court, hand-ball court, basket-ball court, nice place to walk in, and a nice kitchen where prisoners could cook their own recipes, and best of all, they had quite a lot of Red Cross food, even butter. I regretted a plenty that all my prison life had not been spent at that camp, for it was the best I had seen.
When we got to Villingen, we received a fresh supply of rumors as to just when we were going to be released. With all this anticipation, the days were unusually long, for every day was filled with added promises which the Germans never fulfilled. So, after we had been there a few days, I began to think we never were going to get out if we waited for the help of the Germans. So, I decided to have my own “coming out.”
I tried to escape for three nights straight, even getting so far as to breaking the lock on an abandoned gate and cutting the barbed wire enclosing the windows, but something always went wrong. Every time we had to run on account of being discovered by the guards. The fourth day, an American Artillery colonel, who was the senior officer of the prisoners, called a meeting and stated that the Germans had turned the government of the prisoners over to him, and, as commanding officer, he forbade any more attempts to escape. I thought then and I think now that the Colonel was entirely without his rights. The armistice did not affect our status of prisoners, for there was still a state of war, and, as long as 287there is a state of war, to my mind there is a corresponding duty on the part of all prisoners to return to their own forces; and no superior officer, regardless of rank, has the right to excuse the failure of any prisoner to perform this duty, and certainly not to forbid even attempting the performance. This Colonel stated that, as commanding officer, he had given the parole of all the prisoners. This was again absolutely the assumption of rights not his own. This assumption of our personal privileges as men and soldiers was the only thing that kept several of us from again trying to escape, for a man’s word of honor is too serious a thing to permit juggling with, even when given away without his consent.
Finally, the orders came to leave, and one bright morning they assembled us, the Air Service officers being last—probably because that was where we stood in the estimation of the American Artillery colonel. The German officer in charge of the camp came out and made a speech about the great friendship of the German and American people, in which he said that the Allies and Germans were both victorious—Germany’s victory being in that she had found a new Republic. But it was not a time for speechmaking—it was a time for action for us, and, like a bunch of race horses, we pawed the earth to get a head start for that train.
To our surprise, they had first-class coaches to carry us out of Germany, although they had taken us in and moved us around in everything from cattle cars to third and fourth class coaches.
288We got to Constanz, on the border of Switzerland, and, of course, expected to change trains and go right ahead. To our disappointment, we found that the Americans had not made any preparations to carry us through Switzerland, and we had to wait at Constanz a couple of days until the Americans showed some speed. Believe me, I damned America right, left, laterally, and longitudinally for their lack of preparation. I afterwards was very sorry and found that it was not the fault of the Americans at all. But I was mighty peeved to be forced to eat “Bully Beef” in Germany on Thanksgiving.
I think it was about five o’clock, on the morning of the thirtieth of November, that we crossed the border, and believe me I never want to hear such pandemonium again as those two hundred American prisoners gave as we were pulled out of Germany, and were actually again in the hands of friends. We had shaken hands with our hostess at the “coming out,” for I didn’t see a single house along our railroad all through Switzerland from five in the morning until midnight that did not have the American flag waving. Everywhere were men, women and children madly waving handkerchiefs and flags as that train went by.
I felt as if I were in heaven. It was wonderful of Switzerland, but, of course, it was the fact that we represented the Great America which caused the demonstration as they had a sincere respect for our friendship.
At Berne, the ladies of the American Red Cross 289met us and served us hot roast chicken. Take it from me, it was good. Everyone had a ravenous appetite. When we were filled to the brim, the boys got together and appointed me yell leader, and we gave fifteen “raws” for the Red Cross, the Y. M. C. A., the Salvation Army, Switzerland, Berne, the Allies, and the U.S.A. The natives thought perhaps that we were lunatics, but those who understood America knew it was the only immediately available way we had of expressing our appreciation. So we repeated our performance at Lucerne, and at Lausanne, and at Geneva.
Hours meant nothing to the austere Swiss on that night, for when we pulled into Geneva at 11 P. M., there was the same tremendous crowd, with American flags, good cheer, and things to eat. All the way along, even from the first, it was the same. At one little town where we stopped for the engine to get water, there was only one little store near the railroad, but the Swiss man who ran it gave us every bit of wine he had in there, which was about thirty bottles, and then began to feed us cookies. He could speak nothing but German, which was “Alles for den Amerikaner,” meaning “Everything for the Americans.” And he seemed pleased to have the opportunity to do it. In that part of Switzerland, they speak German, but, of course, around Lausanne and Geneva, French is the common tongue.
But it was a real “coming out.” In fact, it was C?sar’s Triumphal March, Woodrow Wilson’s entrance into Paris, and Pershing on Fifth Avenue, 290all combined, for we were the King Bees when it came to Swiss chocolate, and they certainly handed it out. I became so ill that I could barely navigate, but it all seemed so much like a dream that I continued to consume chocolate whether I wanted to or not for fear the dream would end.
On the morning of December first, we crossed the border at Bellegarde. There was a big hospital train waiting to meet us, but, for some reason or other, their orders would not permit them to pull out before six or seven that evening. Our destination was some hospital near Dijon. That didn’t sound interesting to me. I was tired of being confined, and I felt that it was my duty to join my organization for the war was still on............