Chapter 18

One notices this fear sometimes in rather amusing ways. In a railway compartment with me were a loud-mouthed patriotic woman "war-worker" and a mere soldier back from the front. I'm afraid I got a little at loggerheads with the war-worker, who adopted in argument a kind of furious grin which revealed a formidable row of teeth that in my mind-picture of her have become symbolically almost gigantic. I turned for relief to the mere soldier, and while the train was moving we had a pleasant dip into soldier philosophy. "I've come to the conclusion that there's good and bad everywhere," he said. "I've known bad Germans, and I've known Germans to look after our wounded as well as a British Tommy could look after his chum." There was more to this effect, but whenever the train stopped and our voices became audible to others, we were silent. The fear of that row of teeth was, I think in both our hearts, and I could see the mere soldier looking timid before them.

Fair play to the enemy's character is a concession not quite so easy to the average Englishman as he supposes. "The Anglo-Saxon race has never been remarkable for magnanimity towards a fallen foe." Just now, when we are inclined to be almost afraid of the excess of chivalry which possesses us, there may be useful corrective in these words of Lieutenant-General Sir William Butler, K.C.B. There has been much searching of old history books of late to find out what was said in the days of Tacitus against the Germans.[54] (What Tacitus said in their favour is not considered.) Perhaps on the other side there are investigators searching their history books for ancient opinions of the English. "Strike well these English," said Duke William to his Normans, "show no weakness towards these English, for they will have no pity for you. Neither the coward for running well, nor the bold man for fighting well will be better liked by the English, nor will any be more spared on either account." Butler approved this verdict. We shall not readily agree with him. Yet he did not speak without cause: he had known an English general kick the dead body of an African King, who "was a soldier every inch of him," and he had known the colonists spit upon an African chief brought bound and helpless through Natal. ("Far Out," p. 131.) I believe myself there is a great and ready generosity in the hearts of the English people, but he must surely be a man invariably on the "correct" side who has not more than once come across the official Englishman who could be a bully to those in his power.

SOME BRITISH OPINIONS.

"I am disgusted by the accounts I see in the papers of the inferiority of Germans as soldiers. Don't believe one word of it. They are quite splendid in every way. Their courage, efficiency, organisation, equipment and leading are all of the very best, and never surpassed by any troops ever raised. They come on in masses against our trenches and machine guns, and come time after time, and they are never quiescent, but always on the offensive. I am full of admiration for them, and so are all who know anything about them. It is a pity that such fine soldiers should have behaved so badly in Belgium and here; they have behaved badly, there is no doubt about it, but nothing like what is said of them--any way in parts I have been through." These words from a General Officer commanding a brigade occur in a letter published in the _Times_ of November 19, 1914. Yet these "quite splendid" fighters are the men of whom a learned professor appointed by the Government has written that they are "rotten to the core." There is some discrepancy here. "They are great workers, these Germans," wrote Philip Gibbs (_Daily Chronicle_, July 5, 1916), "and wonderful soldiers."

"An officer of the _Sydney_ gave a quite enthusiastic account of the officers of the _Emden_. 'Vitthoef, the torpedo lieutenant, was a thoroughly nice fellow. Lieutenant Schal was also a good fellow and half English. It quite shook them when they found that the captain had asked that there be no cheering on entering Colombo, but we certainly did not want cheering with rows of badly wounded men (almost all German) laid out in cots on the quarter deck. Captain von Mueller is a very fine fellow.... The day he was leaving the ship at Colombo, he came up to me on the quarter-deck and thanked me in connection with the rescue of the wounded, shook hands and saluted, which was very nice and polite of him.... Prince Hohenzollern was a decent enough fellow. In fact, we seemed to agree that it was our job to knock one another out, but there was no malice in it.' This is the ideal fighting, 'with no malice in it.' It has been achieved by many English and Germans, and that gives hope for the future. Let us make the most, not the least, of what points towards a better understanding.... At the beginning of November 'Eye-Witness' records how English prisoners had been sheltered by the Germans in cellars to protect them from the bombardment of their own side. An Anglo-Indian tells of a wounded havildar who was noticed by a German officer. 'The German officer spoke to him in Hindustani, asking him the number of his regiment, and where he came from. He bound up his wounds, gave him a drink, and brought him a bundle of straw to support his head. This will be remembered to the credit side of our German account.'

"A wounded officer addressed some students at one of our universities. He protested humorously that he was not a 'pro-German,' and then spoke up for a fair view of the enemy. When he was being carried into hospital, he noticed an anti-aircraft gun just outside the hospital. This struck him as, to say the least, unwise. He expected the hospital to be shelled, and this occurred. He did not blame the Germans. On another occasion a farm near the firing line was used for first aid. It was not obviously a hospital and was fired on. The Commanding Officer sent a note to Von Kluck to explain matters, and the farm was never after exposed to fire.[55] He had seen a church damaged by German shell fire, but this was one which he had himself seen used by the French for observation purposes.[56] The same officer uttered a warning against believing all that was in the 'Tommies' letters. At one time when he was censoring letters, one passed through his hands from a Tommy only just arrived in France, and never in the firing line. He described an immense battle in which the English did wonders and he himself had marvellous duties to perform. As far as the military situation was concerned the letter was quite harmless, so it was allowed to go through. It was something like the intelligence to the publication of which the Press Bureau 'does not object.'"[57][58]

In her book, "My War Experiences on Two Continents," Miss Macnaughten writes of the Germans: "Individually, I always like them, and it is useless to say I don't. They are all polite and grateful, and I thought to-day, when the prisoners were surrounded by a gaping crowd, that they bore themselves very well." (p. 127). Again, "I found one young German with both hands smashed. He was not ill enough to have a bed, of course, but sat with his head fallen forward trying to sleep on a chair. I fed him with porridge and milk out of a little bowl, and when he had finished half of it he said, 'I won't have any more. I am afraid there will be none for the others.'" (p. 37.) Unfortunately, Miss Macnaughten too readily accepted war stories. She writes of "country houses" where he heard German prisoners here lived in luxury, "and they say girls are allowed to come and play lawn tennis with them." The humour of this will be apparent to any who have visited internment camps. Lawn tennis was, however, possible at some camps, both here and in Germany--there were seven courts at Ruhleben. Some of the atrocity stories many of us will recognise as not so reliable as Miss Macnaughten supposed. It is her personal experiences which are important, and, like the Scotchman[59] (whom she quotes) she has, not hatred, but respect, for the Germans whom she herself meets.

THE EASE OF ACCUSATION.

Again and again, everywhere, we find readiness to accept stories against the enemy on very slender evidence. At the time of the loss of our three cruisers I saw in one of the better newspapers a large heading, "German Treachery. Fighting under the Dutch Flag." I looked down the columns for evidence. No mention of such a circumstance in the official report, none in the letter from the chief correspondent; but at last I found that some one at Harwich had "heard of" such an incident. We must remember that only cool and clear intellects are likely at such a time to give an accurate account of facts. Between others mutual recrimination may readily arise. An officer on H.M.A.S. _Sydney_ wrote after the attack on the _Emden_: "It was very interesting talking to some of the German officers afterwards. On the first day they were on board one said to me, 'You fire on the white flag.' I at once took the matter up, and the torpedo-lieutenant and an engineer (of the _Emden_) both said emphatically, 'No, that is not so; you did not fire on the white flag.' But we did not leave it at that. One of us went to the captain, and he got from Captain von Mueller an assurance that we had done nothing of the kind, and that he intended to assemble his officers and tell them so." Note how readily on the other side, amongst those less responsible or less cool-headed, a tale may grow up against _us_. Let us observe in considering tales against them the same caution that we should wish them to exercise in considering tales against us.[60]

TROOPS IN OCCUPATION.

Witnesses from Brussels and from Ghent have spoken well of the personal behaviour of both soldiers and officers. A neutral correspondent writes in the _Times_ of January 28, 1915:

"On the whole it cannot be said that the behaviour of the German officers and soldiers towards the population of Ghent is bad. When the German troops entered the city, strict injunctions were given them to refrain from pillaging, and to pay for everything they bought in the shops, very much to the disgust of many...."

Mr. Gabriel Mourey has written an account of his custody of the Palais de Compiegne during the invasion. The _Times_ review of this book is so interesting that I propose to give some extracts from it:

First the palace served as the general headquarters of the British Army during the last stage of the strategic retreat to the Marne; and in the closing days of August, M. Mourey looked out of his window to see Generals French and Joffre walking up and down the terrace in consultation, while in the park English soldiers were shaving themselves calmly before little pieces of broken mirror. In a night they had left Compiegne, blowing up the Louis XV. bridge ("utterly improved," and therefore no great loss). On the next day came the Uhlans, by no means so terrible as they had been painted.... Von Kluck was to make his headquarters there for a day, and the first announcement of the doubtful honour was brought by an engineer lieutenant, who came to make a wireless installation on the palace roof. He was very quick, but he found time to inform the conservator that his name was Maurin, that it was a French name. He repeated it many times, "C'est un nom francais," and he was plainly proud of it. Then came Von Kluck himself, asking in polite and excellent French that he might be shown over the palace. Of him M. Mourey draws a by no means unattractive picture, urbane yet reserved, with real admiration for the treasures of the Palace, discreetly murmuring "Je sais" at the close of every explanation, not offensively, but as though some long forgotten memory had returned to him, making his frequent "Kolossal" sound in his conductor's ears as gently as the continual "Very nice" of the British Officer, and, his visit over, promising that respect should be paid to the monument of Imperial France.

But Von Kluck could not stay. He was followed by Von Marwitz, no less polite, no less sympathetic to M. Mourey's natural fears, and generous enough to write and sign a proclamation forbidding his troops to lay their hand upon the palace. He, too, went his way. Von Kluck's Quartermaster-General seized the opportunity of making a private levy of 5,000f. upon the town before he sped like Gehazi after his master's chariot. Then ensued the brief reign of lesser men, stupid, brutal, blustering, bullying, insulting, because they feared a civilisation which they could not understand.

I think we know such men, and many privates know such men, elsewhere than in the German army. Germany may have cultivated them in greater numbers--that is highly probable--but they are rife everywhere, and under favourable circumstances they thrive exceedingly.

Their insolent arrogance culminated in a certain aide-de-camp, who arrived post-haste to say that the Palace must be instantly made ready to receive an Excellence _par excellence_. A man of imagination this aide-de-camp, for when at his command M. Mourey showed him over the palace and pointed out the gaps in the collections made by the soldiers' pilfery, he said with an all-explanatory air, "But why didn't you get souvenirs ready for the officers?" The Excellence whom this right Brandenburger heralded was no less than the Kaiser himself, and M. Mourey is convinced that it is to the Imperial intention that the safety of Compiegne is owing. It may be: but we prefer to think that honourable foes such as Von Kluck and Von Marwitz had their share in the unusual consummation.[61]

"The Irish Nuns at Ypres" gives an account of their experiences by a member of the Community. In a review (May 27, 1915), the _Times_ Literary Supplement says:

For us in England it is hard to realise the feeling of sickening anxiety with which, on October 7, these defenceless ladies witnessed the arrival in Ypres of the devastators of Belgium. On this occasion, apart from a certain amount of looting, the Germans behaved "pretty civilly," and the Abbey had nothing to complain of but want of bread.

Another French account of the invaders in Northern France is given by Gabriele and Margerita Yerta, "Six Women and the Invasion." Their experiences were variable. "It is clear," writes a reviewer in the _Nation_, "that Herr Major, and 'Barlu,' and 'Crafleux' and the two 'model Prussians,' who replenished the house with coal and provisions, and offered the ladies game they had shot, only sinned by their over-gallantry. But things changed for the worse with the coming of a hundred Death's Head Hussars and Lieutenant von Bernhausen.... Nothing very outrageous is recorded, but there was dragooning, inquisition, drunkenness. Bernhausen's reign lasted two months." As to outrages on women, Madame Yerta writes: "To be sure there were rapes, but, thanks be to God, these were few, and they took place at the beginning of the invasion.... I must confess that many a woman was the victim of her own imprudence." The book is, naturally, fiercely anti-German, its facts are, however, those of any war story.

Again, "On the whole the Germans behaved well at St. Quentin. Their rule was stern but just, and although the civil population had been put on rations of black bread, they got enough, and it was not, after all, so bad." This testimony is the more noteworthy because, "as one of the most important bases of the German Army in France the town was continually filled with troops of every regiment, who stayed a little while and then passed on." (Philip Gibbs, "The Soul of the War," p. 152.) It is a little startling to read some more that Mr. Gibbs has to say. French-women were ready to sell themselves to German soldiers, and "such outrageous scenes took place that the German order to close some of the cafes was hailed as a boon by the decent citizens, who saw the women expelled by order of the German commandant with enormous thankfulness." I am not so surprised at this now as when I first read it. An English soldier has since told me that the "silliness" (as he called it) of women for soldiers leads them, in more cases than he could have imagined, to bestow themselves on either friend or enemy. Women with child had said to him quite proudly that it was by a German soldier!

From a private letter: "One of the party is a French officer who tells the tale. After the Marne retreat he was crossing over the territory evacuated by the Germans, and made inquiry of the villagers who had housed the enemy, how they had been treated, what barbarities had been committed, and so forth. The villagers were surprised. The Germans had behaved like gentlemen, had paid for what they used, and had treated them with perfect courtesy. What, no looting? On the contrary, the German officer had a soldier shot for a very small act of pillage.... 'We're soldiers, not robbers,' he said." I cannot vouch for this story, but it gives just the same impression as the account given by Dr. Scarlett-Synge (see pp. 149ff). It is also remarkably similar to experiences recounted by C. A. Winn (Baron Headley) who was with the Prussians in 1870. ("What I saw of the War," p. 44.) When he himself had taken some vegetables from a garden, he was told by his officer friends that any sort of pillage was the "greatest offence a friend of the Prussians could be guilty of." And Mr. Winn speaks of "the many instances of the remarkable efforts of the authorities of the Prussian army to prevent plunders by their soldiers." It must be remembered that deliberate destruction for military reasons, or as punishment (carried out by all armies) is very different from theft. I do not for a moment suppose that this standard is always reached by the German armies. That it has often been aimed at is something to remember.

I may add here a rather interesting quotation from Colonel F. N. Maude's book, "War and the World's Life." On page 11 he writes: "I do not suggest that life in the Prussian army has at any time been ideal, but I do assert, from personal knowledge, that relatively to their respective stages of civilisation the treatment of the Prussian soldier, since 1815, has at all times been fairer and more humane than in any other army. The fact is proved by the very high standard of discipline maintained, together with the extraordinary absence of military crime which has so long distinguished it."

I am reminded, too, of one of the first experiences of a friend of mine in France. He reached a village through which the Uhlans had passed. Had the inhabitants any complaints of their behaviour? None whatever.[62] Their only indignation was directed against some English soldiers who (if their story be correct) had behaved abominably. It was a curious shock of reality for my friend. He realised that sometimes the enemy might behave well, and sometimes bad stories of English soldiers might be circulated (even amongst Allies). I am quite sure that no soldiers in the world would, in general, have more natural humanity than the British, and perhaps none would have as much. I contend only against the belief that one side is impeccable, and the other hopelessly barbarian.

FROM THE INTERNATIONAL REVIEW; A COMMON MEMORIAL.

Here are a few extracts from the _International Review_, a periodical published at Zuerich, and with co-operators in Russia, Denmark, Germany, Austria, Italy, America, Great Britain. "The yearning of human beings towards mutual understanding needs to-day a new organ for its expression." Hence this review--a review naturally pronounced pro-German by our Junker Press, since it presents, amongst other things, moderate statements of the German standpoint. The only internationalism which this Press can recognise is one that is exclusively English. So exactly, _mutatis mutandis_, do German and English chauvinism coincide. The extracts which follow are taken from the first number of the review. "Under the title, 'German-French Chivalry,' the _Volksstimme_, of Frankfurt a.M. (June 19, 1915), describes the dedication of a memorial to three thousand dead at Sedan on June 12. The leaders of the German army were present, and the French authorities officially shared in the proceedings. The short inscriptions on the simple monuments are in both French and German. They refer alike to the seventeen hundred French and the thirteen hundred Germans who fell on August 27 during the battle on the heights of Noyers."

A STORY FROM FRANCE.

From _L'Action Francaise_, Paris (June 12, 1915), is cited a description of the poignancy of war, of which the following is a translation:

There had been a fierce fight in front of a fortress. Many dead lay on the ground, and a few wounded who were dying. In the night we heard weak cries, 'Kamerad, Kamerad!' We answered, thinking it was a German who wished to give himself up. The cries were repeated. We thought of treachery, and each took his stand in readiness. Suddenly, there came in pure French: 'Camerades Francais!' 'What is it?' 'A wounded man lies near you.' 'No.' 'Yes, in front of the trench.' 'We have just made a round, and found only dead.' 'Yes, but there _is_ a wounded man there who is calling. Can you not look for him?' 'No.' And then in the silence we hear again, 'Kamerad, Kamerad!' The German officer speaks again, very politely: 'French comrades, may we go to look for the wounded man?' An inflexible 'No' is the answer. Is not some trick concealed under his apparent humanity and his persistence? 'Well, then,' calls the German again, 'go yourself and look; we shall not shoot.' Can we trust a German's word, after all that they have done? But there is no long delay. A man from Lille springs forward: 'All right, I will go to fetch him,' he says. 'I will go with him,' I say to the Lieutenant. The leader of my squadron brings some others. The wounded man calls: 'Kamerad! Do not kill me!' We reassure him as to our intentions, and as he has a shattered hip we carry him to our lines, and on the way in spite of his suffering, he keeps on repeating with every kind of modulation, 'Good comrade.' He was a young man, scarcely eighteen years old, of the 205th Infantry.

I call to the enemy trenches: 'We have brought in one wounded man, are there any others there?' 'Yes. 20 metres further to the right.' We look round. 'There are none there, only dead.' 'Wait, we will give you some light.' A few words in German which we cannot understand. Will they simply shoot us down? Suddenly two splendid rockets go up: we can see as if it were midday. We are half a dozen marines and are standing twenty metres from the German trenches. On the other side of the wire entanglements an officer and men, behind the breastwork pointed helmets and caps. All remains quiet. We look round carefully. 'Nothing. There are only corpses here. We are going back, you go back, too.' 'Merci, camerades francais!' calls the officer, and his men repeat the greeting of their superior. As soon as we are behind our breastwork our Lieutenant gives a command loud enough to be heard at sixty metres. 'In the air--Fire!' From over there once more, 'Thank you, comrades,' as answer to our salvo, and all falls back once more into the silence of the night; the work of death can go on again. But for this one night not a shot was heard around us.

How much sanity is there in a world that sets such men to kill each other, and eggs them on to hate?

GERMAN HELP OF "ALIEN ENEMIES."