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TRANSWORLD PUBLISHERS
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www.transworldbooks.co.uk

Transworld is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com

First published in Great Britain by Doubleday
an imprint of Transworld Publishers
Copyright © Neil Hanson 2011

Neil Hanson has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

Every effort has been made to obtain the necessary permissions with reference to copyright material, both illustrative and quoted. We apologize for any omissions in this respect and will be pleased to make the appropriate acknowledgements in any future edition.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

Version 1.0 Epub ISBN 9781446422205
ISBNs 9780385612043 (cased)
9780385612050 (tpb)

This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

CONTENTS

Cover

About the Book

Title Page

Dedication

Introduction

  1. No Mercy Will Be Shown: The Maltreatment of Prisoners of War
  2. The German Black Hole: The Most Escape-proof Prison in Germany
  3. Milwaukee Bill: The Most Brutal Camp Commandant
  4. Solitary Confinement: The Punitive Regime at Holzminden
  5. Barbed-wire Fever: The Monotony of Prison Life
  6. Inveterate Escapees: Impossible to Confine
  7. The Rat-hole: Tunnelling Under the Wire
  8. The Black Book: Hidden Contraband
  9. Zero Day: Breaking Out of the Tunnel
  10. Dead or Alive: The Search for the Escapees
  11. A Hannoverian Gentleman: The Disappearance of Niemeyer

Epilogue: The Holzminden Dining Club

Picture Section

Index

Acknowledgements

Bibliography

Notes

Picture Acknowledgements

Map

About the Author

Also by Neil Hanson

Copyright

To Lynn, Jack and Drew, for whom there is no escape

Also by Neil Hanson

The Custom of the Sea

The Dreadful Judgement

The Confident Hope of a Miracle

The Unknown Soldier

First Blitz

For more information on Neil Hanson and his books, see his website at www.neilhanson.co.uk

INTRODUCTION

Many years ago, while I was off school with some childhood ailment, I was rummaging through my father’s bookshelves and chanced upon Eric Williams’s The Wooden Horse – the story of a daring escape from a German prisoner-of-war camp, Stalag Luft III, during the Second World War. Gripped by the ingenuity and bravery of those prisoners in their sealed world behind the wire, I finished the book in a single sitting and went on to read several other such stories, including Colditz and The Great Escape. If it puzzled me then that there didn’t appear to be any stories of First World War escapes, I didn’t pursue the thought.

Years later, when I began to carry out research on the First World War, I soon discovered that there were many escape stories of equal, and even greater, resourcefulness and daring than those I’d read in my youth. Almost all were long out of print and largely forgotten. The accounts of those escapes were fascinating enough in their own right, but they also offered compelling insights into an era that was almost within my own compass – my grandfather had fought in the Great War and my father was born during it – yet, in its beliefs and attitudes, seemed impossibly remote from the society in which we now live.

It was a world in which a gentleman’s honour – and by definition all officers were gentlemen, at least until the murderous attrition of the war began to allow a few others to rise from the ranks – was his most prized possession, and in which an officer had only to give his word that he would return and he would be allowed out of his prison camp for a country stroll.

Even stranger, imprisoned officers were allowed to communicate not just with their families but with their banks, their tailors and the shops with which they held accounts. While their less fortunate peers often endured misery, cruelty and semi-starvation, men of means held in the more benign camps could live in relative comfort, even luxury. The rigidities of the class system were also maintained behind the wire. So powerful was the Englishman’s belief in the natural order of things that, even when he was subjected to deprivation, near-starvation and random or systemic brutality, it remained inconceivable that an officer would clean his room or make his bed. An orderly – a working-class other-ranks prisoner – was incarcerated alongside him purely to do the manual work for him.

So entrenched were such attitudes that it was a wonder the officers didn’t make the orderlies dig their escape tunnels for them as well. It was one task they performed for themselves, even though the orderlies were much more accustomed to such work and, numbering a few ex-miners among them, would probably have taken far less time to complete it.

Class and rank also dictated whether a prisoner had to carry out forced labour for his captors, and whether he was expected to make the effort to escape. Break-outs by other-ranks prisoners were comparatively rare, partly because they usually lacked the financial and other resources available to officers, including the time in which to plan and carry out escapes: they had to work, either labouring for their captors or as orderlies for their officers. The patronizing official attitudes that regarded ‘common soldiers’ as mere sheep – followers of orders, incapable of acting on their own initiative – also led to the assumption that, once captured, they would show little inclination to attempt escape.

By contrast, officers were expected to resist capture at all costs – unlike their men, returning officer prisoners of war were required to provide a signed statement about the manner of and reasons for their capture that, if deemed unsatisfactory, might lead to disciplinary action. If captured, it was the stated duty of every officer to attempt to escape. If successful, they could again return to active service in the battle against ‘the Hun’, but even if their efforts failed, the extra men and resources required to contain them within their PoW camps, and to search for and apprehend them if they broke out, would have a demonstrable effect on the German war machine.

Whatever army regulations might have said about their duty, not all British officers were made of such stern stuff. Many – the majority – opted for the line of least resistance and made little if any attempt to escape, perhaps reasoning that it was better to live on their knees than die on their feet, dangling from the barbed wire or being shot at in the trenches. Yet while some chose self-preservation and a quiet life behind the wire, others were determined to break free and made repeated attempts to do so. Some individuals made as many as twenty separate escape attempts from up to a dozen different camps – and there were some 180 PoW camps in Germany alone, in addition to scores of forced-labour work Kommandos set up near mines, quarries, factories and so on. The Germans retaliated by concentrating these persistent escapees into special camps under stricter discipline and closer guard. The three most notorious were Fort Zorndorf in East Prussia, Fort 9 at Ingolstadt, and Holzminden, which was claimed to be the most closely guarded and escape-proof of them all. Yet, despite barbed wire, arc lights, attack dogs, sentries and patrolling guards armed with rifles and machine guns, escapes continued to be made.

Reading the stories of these habitual escapees, I was struck again and again by their daring, resourcefulness and persistence. These were men who allowed no obstacles, however huge, to deter them, and who, with quick wit and apparently inexhaustible good humour, performed miracles of improvisation, adaptation, courage and endurance that I suspect would be beyond most of us, their descendants, today.

During my research, I read scores of astonishing accounts of escapes and attempted escapes from Great War prisoner-of-war camps in Germany, France, England, Russia, Italy and Turkey, but one stood out: the mass break-out from Holzminden in July 1918. In terms of the number of men who got out of the camp and the number who subsequently completed successful ‘home runs’ by crossing the border into neutral Holland, this one surpassed all others. This is the story of that break-out, a ‘Great Escape’ that rivals and indeed eclipses any of those far more celebrated Second World War escapes.

Neil Hanson, May 2011

CHAPTER 1

NO MERCY WILL BE SHOWN

The Maltreatment of Prisoners of War

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‘The Exodus’ – when Holzminden opened in September 1917, other PoW camp commandants seized the chance to unload some of their most troublesome prisoners.

 

The taking of prisoners has always formed a significant part of wartime military operations, not only because every man captured was a potential soldier denied to the enemy, but also because, under interrogation, he might divulge invaluable intelligence about troop dispositions and deployments, strengths and weaknesses, strategy and tactics. Head counts1 of prisoners could be useful in calculating the extent of a battlefield military success and assessing the morale of enemy forces, and a few modest economic benefits might also be accrued by the captors, including the acquisition of weapons, equipment and the personal property of prisoners, and the diversion of any relief supplies sent to them from abroad. However, only in exceptional circumstances were such benefits likely to exceed the costs: holding prisoners required a considerable commitment of often scarce resources, such as foodstuffs, medicines, clothing, bedding and other supplies, facilities to house them and, above all, manpower to guard them.

The number of prisoners captured in the First World War was staggering – hundreds of times higher than in any previous war. Between 72 and 8.5 million men of all nations were captured by the combatants and incarcerated in prisoner-of-war camps. In 1916–17, Austria-Hungary alone held 1.8 million prisoners, the majority Russian, at a cost of 2.5 per cent of its total war expenditure – more, even, than it spent on explosives, motor vehicles or aircraft.

The combatant nations might have hoped to recoup at least part of the cost through ‘some ad hoc transfer3 of funds’ or from reparations in the event that they won the war, but in the short term, all the expense had to be borne by the captors. If that was a problem for all of the combatants in the First World War, it was particularly so for Germany. After four years of war, including fighting on two fronts for the first three years, Germany held 2.5 million prisoners, almost four times as many as Britain and France combined. The majority of German prisoners were Russian – 92,0004 Russian soldiers had surrendered at the battle of Tannenberg alone – but by the end of the war, the total of British Empire servicemen who were or had been prisoners of war in German hands had reached 191,652.5 Of those, around 177,000 were still held captive at the Armistice, the remainder having died, been released on medical grounds, escaped or been transferred to internment in the Netherlands or Switzerland, as a result of an agreement between the warring powers.

Even in the middle of the most bloody and ferocious wars, combatant nations had almost always maintained some form of diplomatic contact, albeit often through a third party, and even when ‘practically all6 human and material resources were being directed by both sides towards the war effort, and restraint in the conduct of war was progressively abandoned, there remained a national interest in the heart of enemy territory which, in most cases, seemed to necessitate some form of contact and negotiation: civilian internees and prisoners of war’.

That also held true for the First World War, and one of its more bizarre paradoxes was that, at the same time as the various national political leaders and generals were committing themselves to the disruption and destruction of not just the enemy’s forces but the infrastructure of its state and the starvation of its population, they were simultaneously forced to dispatch money and supplies to feed their own soldiers being held captive. They continued to do so even though they knew that much of what they sent would be seized and diverted to other uses. It defied all logic: it would have been far more efficient and far less expensive for both sides to arrange the rapid exchange of prisoners so that, instead of being held captive at a prodigious cost in food, facilities and manpower, they could be returned to their own nation. Of course, returned prisoners would then have been free to take up arms once more, but the relative numbers would have been unchanged on both sides. However, no general or politician on either side was willing even to entertain such a radical notion and, as a result, captive soldiers in their hundreds of thousands continued to languish in PoW camps.

Two distinguished jurists lamented the woeful inefficiency and injustice of such a situation: ‘In view of7 the cumbersomeness and expense of the whole machinery of prisons [for PoWs] and the cost of maintaining prisoners and providing them with the treatment they have a right to expect, is it impracticable to suggest that on capture, they should definitely lose their combatant status and be either sent home on parole or interned in a neutral country?’ Evidently it was, for no such arrangement was made until the closing stages of the war. Even then it was restricted to those so badly wounded or ill that they were no longer fit for active service, and the very long-term prisoners who formed a tiny proportion of the whole.

Other than the fact that every PoW was one less enemy soldier to face on the battlefield, the only significant advantage that the warring nations could derive from holding prisoners was by using them as forced labour, and most authorities acknowledged that such labour could confer considerable financial and other benefits on the captors. The scale of recruitment into the armed forces had caused labour crises in all the belligerent nations. Sixty million8 men of all nations had taken up arms – between one-third and two-thirds of the entire labour force of each combatant country.

Yet while stripping the manufacturing industry of much of its labour, the belligerent governments were also demanding huge increases of production in all kinds of war matériel: munitions, tanks, trucks, aircraft, barbed wire, steel helmets, uniforms and boots, and myriad other manufactured goods. The resultant void was only partly filled by recruiting previously unemployed men, women, old and unfit men, relatively young boys and girls, and foreign workers, where they were available. Prisoners of war provided another substantial and ever-growing pool of labour on which to draw.

In the early stages of the war, prisoners of all sides had been largely either left idle in their camps or put to work on land-improvement schemes that had little direct impact on agricultural or industrial production. However, as the hopes of an early victory nurtured by both sides were seen to be chimerical, and the numbers of prisoners steadily increased in parallel with the shortages of labour caused by mass conscription, PoWs on both sides were put to productive work. By 1916,9 80 per cent of enlisted men and NCOs held in Germany were at work, though officers remained idle.

All authorities acknowledged that ‘purposeful and regular10 employment’ was beneficial to the prisoners’ morale and physical health, ‘and labour, whether voluntary or coerced’, was also permitted under the Hague Rules – The Regulations Respecting the Laws and Customs of War – that had been agreed by all the combatants at The Hague Convention for the Pacific Settlement of International Disputes in 1899, and confirmed with some further amendments in 1907. The Hague Rules allowed the captors of prisoners of war to ‘utilize their labour,11 except in the case of officers, according to their ranks and capacities’, with NCOs filling supervisory roles over the enlisted men who were required to perform manual work. Under the Hague Rules, PoWs were not supposed to be employed within thirty kilometres of the front line, and their work was not to be humiliating, or excessive, or have anything to do with ‘the operations of the war’. Interpretations of12 the latter prohibition varied greatly – some prisoners were employed in digging trenches, clearing minefields, loading ammunition and doing other war work – but even where they were used in industry or agriculture, which had no direct impact on the war effort, they were freeing others to fight or carry out war work.

Trade unions and civilian workers were often bitterly opposed to the employment of PoWs, suspecting that they were being used to depress wages and ‘de-skill’ previously specialized occupations. Some even believed that the use of PoW labour would foster the growth of ‘vested interests13 dependent on the continuation of the war’. In theory, any work carried out by prisoners was required to be paid at rates commensurate with ‘the tariff14 in force for soldiers of the national army employed on similar tasks … or at rates proportional to the work to be executed’. Some labour organizations actually demanded that PoWs be rewarded at above the standard local rate, in order to ensure that they were only taken on if no civilians were available. The balance of what prisoners had earned, less the cost of their board and lodging, was supposed to be held in escrow for them and paid to them on release.

Unions had reason to be concerned: the scale of PoW employment was staggering. In 1917–18, nine hundred thousand15 Russian captives were employed in Germany and another million in Austria-Hungary, the majority working in agriculture in an attempt to alleviate food shortages. Britain and France also made use of German PoWs in this way, with a few thousand prisoners in Britain set to work to bring marginal lands into production, and another fifty thousand employed on the farms of France, where 1.5 million boys and old men and at least 3 million women were already at work: they were filling the void left by the recruitment of more than 5 million agricultural workers into the army. The economic value of the employment of prisoners varied greatly from nation to nation, but Germany’s de facto leader in the latter years of the war, General Erich Ludendorff, was in no doubt about their crucial role in the German war effort, claiming that prisoners of war were ‘of the utmost importance16 in all fields of war activity’.

The principle governing the act of taking prisoners and sparing the lives of antagonists had evolved over the centuries from ‘an act of grace’17 to a recognition of the rights of ‘the helpless’. In earlier conflicts, what was deemed to be hopeless resistance was held to justify a refusal to give quarter. On several occasions during the Napoleonic Wars, while laying siege to fortified towns like Almeida, Ciudad Rodrigo and Badajoz, the Duke of Wellington declared ‘the strict rule’ that if the defenders declined the opportunity to surrender when offered the chance to do so, ‘their lives were forfeited on the place being taken by storm’. Even as late as 1898, a US commander in the Spanish–American War was permitted to give no quarter if in dire straits and when his own position ‘made it impossible for him to cumber himself with prisoners’. This dispensation applied not merely to ‘men falling into the hands of the captor, either fighting or wounded on the field’ but also to those ‘in hospital, by individual surrender or capitulation, all disabled men or officers in the field or elsewhere, if captured, and all enemies who have thrown away their arms and ask for quarter’.

However, in the following year, 1899, the US became a signatory to the Hague Rules governing the conduct of war. They stipulated that prisoners were ‘in the power18 of the hostile Government, but not of the individuals or corps who capture[d] them’, and imposed a blanket prohibition on the killing or wounding of enemies who had ‘surrendered at discretion, having thrown down their arms, or possessing no longer the means of defending themselves, and also against the declaration that no quarter will be given’. In all, nine of the articles in the Rules were relevant to the treatment of a prisoner of war:

Article 419

Prisoners of war are in the power of the hostile Government, but not of the individuals or corps who capture them. They must be humanely treated. All their personal belongings, except arms, horses, and military papers, remain their property.

Article 5

Prisoners of war may be interned in a town, fortress, camp, or other place, and bound not to go beyond certain fixed limits, but they cannot be confined except as an indispensable measure of safety and only while the circumstances which necessitate the measure continue to exist.

Article 6

The State may utilize the labour of prisoners of war according to their rank and aptitude, officers excepted. The tasks shall not be excessive and shall have no connection with the operations of the war. Prisoners may be authorized to work for the public service, for private persons, or on their own account. Work done for the State is paid for at the rates in force for work of a similar kind done by soldiers of the national army, or, if there are none in force, at a rate according to the work executed. When the work is for other branches of the public service or for private persons the conditions are settled in agreement with the military authorities. The wages of the prisoners shall go towards improving their position, and the balance shall be paid them on their release, after deducting the cost of their maintenance.

Article 7

The Government into whose hands prisoners of war have fallen is charged with their maintenance. In the absence of a special agreement between the belligerents, prisoners of war shall be treated as regards board, lodging, and clothing on the same footing as the troops of the Government who captured them.

Article 8

Prisoners of war shall be subject to the laws, regulations, and orders in force in the army of the State in whose power they are. Any act of insubordination justifies the adoption towards them of such measures of severity as may be considered necessary. Escaped prisoners who are retaken before being able to rejoin their own army or before leaving the territory occupied by the army which captured them are liable to disciplinary punishment. Prisoners who, after succeeding in escaping, are again taken prisoners, are not liable to any punishment on account of the previous flight.

Article 9

Every prisoner of war is bound to give, if he is questioned on the subject, his true name and rank, and if he infringes this rule, he is liable to have the advantages given to prisoners of his class curtailed.

Article 10

Prisoners of war may be set at liberty on parole if the laws of their country allow, and, in such cases, they are bound, on their personal honour, scrupulously to fulfil, both towards their own Government and the Government by whom they were made prisoners, the engagements they have contracted. In such cases their own Government is bound neither to require of nor accept from them any service incompatible with the parole given.

Article 11

A prisoner of war cannot be compelled to accept his liberty on parole; similarly the hostile Government is not obliged to accede to the request of the prisoner to be set at liberty on parole.

Article 12

Prisoners of war liberated on parole and recaptured bearing arms against the Government to whom they had pledged their honour, or against the allies of that Government, forfeit their right to be treated as prisoners of war, and can be brought before the courts.

At the start of the war, the Hague Rules had been written into The British Manual of Military Law and the German equivalent, the Kriegsbrauch20 (Customs of War). The War Book of the German General Staff acknowledged that the

complete change in the conception of war introduced in recent times has in consequence changed all previous ideas as to the position and treatment of prisoners of war. Starting from the principle that only States and not private persons are in the position of enemies in time of war, and that an enemy who is disarmed and taken prisoner is no longer an object of attack, the doctrine of war captivity is entirely altered and the position of prisoners has become assimilated to that of the sick and wounded … they are the captives not of private individuals, that is to say of Commanders, Soldiers or Detachments of Troops, but … the captives of the State. But the State regards them as persons who have simply done their duty and obeyed the commands of their superiors, and in consequence regards their captivity not as penal but merely as precautionary. It therefore follows that the object of war captivity is simply to prevent the captives from taking any further part in the war, and that the State can, in fact, do everything which appears necessary for securing the captives, but nothing beyond that.

Whatever the Hague Rules and The War Book of the German General Staff might say, the Kaiser had articulated a very different policy in relation to prisoners of war when addressing troops embarking at Bremerhaven for the German colonies in China: ‘As soon as21 you come to blows with the enemy, he will be beaten. No mercy will be shown. No prisoners will be taken.’ That statement was later repudiated, and claims by the British government in October 1917 that the Kaiser had been forced to issue a special order requiring British prisoners of war in Germany to be properly treated led to a furious denial: ‘The German Government22 repudiate most emphatically the insinuation … that a special order by the Emperor was needed before British prisoners could be assured of proper treatment. Enemy prisoners in German hands have always been treated humanely and in a proper manner.’

However strenuously such allegations were denied, British propagandists continued to make claims about brutality to Allied prisoners in German PoW camps and German atrocities against civilians. They were brilliantly successful in swinging international opinion against Germany – so much so that Dr Josef Goebbels23 used the campaign as a model for Nazi propaganda during the Second World War. Allegations about ill-treatment of prisoners of war had to be rather more accurate after 1915, when the prison camps of all combatants in the war were opened to inspection, first by American representatives and then, after the US declaration of war in March 1917, by the Dutch or Swiss, who, in theory at least, could expose any demonstrable falsehoods. Nonetheless, both sides continued to issue propaganda claiming that their prisoners of war were being maltreated by the enemy, not merely in an attempt to influence international opinion but also to encourage their own soldiers to fight to the death rather than risk being captured.

While it was a simple matter to agree in principle the Laws of War on Land, governing inter alia the fair treatment of prisoners of war, in actual battlefield conditions it was a rather more complex task to decide the point at which fighting should be deemed to have ceased and the right to surrender commenced. Wounded men were often still capable of bearing arms, and during the First World War there were reported cases on both sides of men who signalled their surrender only to draw their enemies out of cover, then took up their arms and attacked them again.

All the combatant nations in the First World War had committed themselves to adhere to the Hague Rules, but in the event, the regulations proved inadequate in some circumstances and were further modified in 1917 and again in 1918, after negotiations between the British and German governments, presided over by representatives of the Dutch government.

The moment of greatest24 danger for any prisoner was the actual moment of surrender, and many men on both sides were undoubtedly killed in the act of attempting it. Whatever the Hague Rules might say, soldiers on the battlefield who had seen their comrades blown apart or gunned down were not always disposed to feel merciful towards those enemies they captured, an attitude summed up by the cynical aside of one senior officer that ‘No man in this25 war has ever been killed with the bayonet unless he had his hands up first.’

Two prominent international jurists even gave apparent endorsement to the right of soldiers to carry out what amounted to executions of unarmed men, when they argued that ‘It is not reasonable26 to expect men who are attacking a fortified position held by the enemy and who suffer inevitably far heavier casualties than the defenders, from avenging their losses … merely because [the enemy] cease to resist when they are on terms of equality with the assailant.’

If they survived the moment of capture, prisoners remained in lesser, but still significant, jeopardy and often suffered harsh treatment as they were moved back through the lines: ‘Between the place27 of capture and the prison, especially in early days, the conditions were barbarous and abominable, the civilian population showing greater brutality than the military guards.’ Many wounded prisoners died within a few days of being taken captive and many British soldiers believed that medical care was deliberately withheld from their comrades to reduce the number of prisoners that the Germans had to house and feed: ‘It was not an uncommon28 sight to see an English soldier looking like death, holding up an arm which was a mass of blood, straw, dirt and raw flesh. I heard that the reason given for this was that all minor wounds were left for three days, because at the end of that time, they (the Hun doctors) would know whether the wound was a dirty one or not!’

There were some glaring exceptions, but conditions for prisoners of war usually improved once they reached the prison camp where they were to be incarcerated. Once there, the overall survival rate of British prisoners of war was much better than that of the soldiers in the trenches, though mortality was shockingly high29 in comparison to that of interned civilians. The annual mortality rate of Belgian civilians held in captivity by the Germans and used as forced labourers was twenty-two per thousand, whereas among the British prisoners of war held in Germany, even excluding those who died from wounds sustained on the battlefield, the annual death rate was more than 5 per cent – fifty-two per thousand.30 Given that the UK civilian death rate31 for men aged twenty to forty in the years immediately preceding the First World War had only been five per thousand, and that the belligerents had instituted a programme of exchange for prisoners who fell seriously ill, the death rate of British soldiers in German captivity was appalling. Malnutrition and maltreatment must have been significant factors in that. The figures concealed even higher death rates for enlisted men than for officers. Almost one in fourteen – 11,97832 out of 177,553 – of the British and Commonwealth other-ranks prisoners held in German prisoner-of-war camps died during the course of the war.

The conditions under which prisoners were held and their survival rates varied greatly from country to country. The chaos and anarchy into which Russia descended during the war, the revolution and civil war that followed, resulted in the death of around 40 per cent of PoWs held there. Such statistics33 masked even more shocking losses: three-quarters of the half million Austro-Hungarian prisoners held in Siberia died of malnutrition, exposure and disease.

The death toll among prisoners held by the combatants on the Western Front was far less extreme, though PoWs of all sides suffered privations and a high mortality rate during the first year of the war, because none of the warring nations had devoted any significant resources to preparing facilities to house the tens and then hundreds of thousands of men they had captured. There were inevitable problems – shortages of food and outbreaks of disease, including typhus and dysentery – which claimed many lives. The German High Command in particular had been so confident of sweeping through to Paris and claiming victory in short order that very few arrangements had been put in place to deal with prisoners. They were also taken aback by the sheer numbers of enemy soldiers surrendering to them, and the alacrity with which many did so. As one German officer later remarked, ‘We were surprised34 that the Allies had so many troops to surrender and that they surrendered so readily.’

At least a thousand35 British prisoners of war were in German hands before August 1914 – the month in which the war began – was out and by the end of 1916, forty thousand Britons were held captive. The numbers increased throughout the remainder of the war, with an avalanche of almost a hundred thousand British soldiers taken prisoner during the last great German offensive, beginning on 21 March 1918.

The fatality rates among British PoWs would probably have been even worse, had it not been for the regime of inspection established in 1915 by the Red Cross and representatives of the neutral nations, particularly the Netherlands and Switzerland. By prior appointment, inspectors were able to examine any PoW camp, interview the inmates and report on the conditions under which they were being held. Nonetheless, soldiers on both sides and their relatives waiting at home were far from sanguine about the likely fate of men captured by the enemy. As one German woman wrote in August 1914, after being informed that her husband had been taken prisoner, ‘Should I consider36 myself a widow?’

Yet, with some significant exceptions, both Britain and Germany ‘played by the rules’ to an astonishing degree in the care of prisoners – at least where officers were concerned. Officers, whether British or German, prided themselves on being gentlemen and, even in the midst of the most ferocious and brutal conflict in human history – in which the techniques of mass production were directed towards mass slaughter on an industrial scale – they still sometimes conducted themselves as if war were merely an extension of team sports on public-school playing fields or ritual combat from the golden age of chivalry.

There were elaborate courtesies, like the old-fashioned gentlemen’s agreements that allowed officers of both sides to give their ‘parole’ – their word – to their captors that, if allowed to leave their prison camp on country walks, they would not try to escape, or in any way facilitate a future escape, or damage any property. Officers simply handed in a signed card agreeing to these conditions and were allowed out of camp, in batches of up to forty. ‘No guard is sent37 with them but only one man as a guide.’ No one ever availed himself of the chance to escape, for a gentleman’s word really was his bond. Some prisoners refused to give their parole on principle, and others because they were convinced that were they to escape and be recaptured, the Germans would accuse them of ‘having gleaned38 information while outside the camp on parole’ and use it as an excuse to increase the term of solitary confinement they imposed for the escape attempt.

Even those British prisoners who refused to give their parole were allowed to correspond with their tailors in London to order replacement uniforms, since German Army regulations required every prisoner of war to salute the German officers in charge of him and to be correctly dressed when doing so. In this way would-be escapees were able to order from various British regiments military coats and hats that were not the standard khaki, or exotic dress uniforms. They could then be cut down and modified to resemble German Army uniforms or civilian suits and Homburg hats, which became part of escape kits. One British officer wrote to his tailor saying that he had been transferred from his former regiment to the Grenadier Guards, and ordered a blue-grey regimental greatcoat and two of the Grenadiers’ blue and red ‘undress caps’, which, ‘with a little cardboard39 stuffing, could be made to look exactly like the German home-service cap’. Civilian clothes were also sent to them, but the Germans either confiscated these or, if the British officer preferred, broad yellow-brown stripes would be sewn into them to identify the wearer as a PoW. However, what one tailor could do, another could undo, and such remodelled civilian clothes also formed part of some men’s escape kits.

The Hague Rules did not specify precisely what should constitute the humane treatment of prisoners, but it was implicit in their provisions that the government into whose hands prisoners had fallen was bound to provide adequate food, clothing and shelter, and not subject them to prolonged solitary confinement, excessive punishment or brutality. Yet, despite the Hague Rules and the regime of neutral inspection of PoW camps, atrocities were undoubtedly perpetrated, particularly against enlisted men.

Among five hundred ex-prisoners reaching London at the end of November 1918 there was a soldier who claimed that a third of the 1,500 men imprisoned at his last PoW camp had ‘died from starvation40 and exhaustion’. Another eyewitness testified that he had seen an English prisoner, suffering from dysentery, buried alive by German soldiers. They ‘afterwards informed me that they had nailed the coffin lid down with four- and six-inch nails’. An Irish soldier who collapsed from exhaustion and malnutrition in a German stone quarry was immediately stabbed with bayonets by the guards. ‘The German soldiers then placed the unconscious Irish soldier on the railway line and allowed a train to run over him.’ An RAMC captain at a German camp hospital spoke of prisoners used as forced labour behind German lines, who had only torn cotton shirts to wear and were so emaciated that they could scarcely walk without aid. The thighs of men five feet ten inches tall were ‘as thick as41 a normal man’s wrist. They usually died within five days of arrival. Some had been stabbed, all had been starved.’

There were instances of brutality and maltreatment of officers as well, though on nothing like the scale inflicted on common soldiers, and it was certainly true – as the voluntary post-war statements of some inmates attested – that certain German prisoner-of-war camps were models of humane treatment. One officer, who spent time in three different camps, noted that ‘When I got back home,42 I heard about all these frightful things going on in German camps [but] I never saw a single rotten incident.’ At other camps, though, whether at the whim of their commandants or as part of a deliberate policy imposed by the officer commanding a particular army district, treatment of captives was anything but humane. The four camps operated by General Kommandierende (Commanding General) von Hanisch’s Tenth Army Corps – Holzminden, Clausthal, Ströhen and Schwarmstedt – were exemplars of the latter approach, and among them, Holzminden soon became the most notorious. General von Hanisch, described by one British prisoner as ‘a Prussian of43 the old school’, gave the commandants ‘a free hand to do as they liked with us. They did.’

CHAPTER 2

THE GERMAN BLACK HOLE

The Most Escape-proof Prison in Germany

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‘Agony!’ – Escaped British prisoners, safe in neutral Holland, were unable to revenge themselves on Holzminden’s hated commandant, Hauptmann Karl Niemeyer.

 

In early September 1917, the first British captives were arriving at a new prison camp at Holzminden, sixty miles southwest of Hannover, in Lower Saxony. It had been built in 1913 as a cavalry barracks, but by September 1917, as modern industrialized warfare had rendered cavalry virtually obsolete, and as the numbers of Allied prisoners in German hands steadily increased, it was converted to a prisoner-of-war camp.

The Offizier Gefangenenlager (prison camp for officers) lay just over a mile outside the sleepy provincial market town of Holzminden, in ‘a most lovely1 part of the country, set in a basin of wooded hills’. The majority of the area’s population were small farmers, though Holzminden was also the site of a factory producing essential oils and synthetic flavourings for the perfume and food industries.

The Lager Poldhu (Lager being German for ‘prison’ and Poldhu the Cornish site of Marconi’s pioneering wireless transmitting station in Cornwall) – the PoW grapevine that, by some quasi-mystical means, allowed war news, rumours, gossip and speculation to circulate between all the camps in Germany – had suggested that Holzminden was a dream prison, with brand-new light and airy buildings set in spacious grounds and surrounded by beautiful scenery. The reality did not live up to that billing. What lay outside the wire was pleasant enough but the accommodation was spartan, the camp guards corrupt or hostile, and the facilities pitifully inadequate. All the prisoners and the hundred German staff had to be fed from three large boilers; the only other cooking facilities were tiny stoves for the private use of the prisoners, and there was just one for every 125 men.

Holzminden was then the largest British officers’ camp in Germany, housing up to seven hundred2 men in two four-storey stone-built Kasernen – barrack blocks – with cellars beneath and steeply pitched roofs to shed the winter snows. Half of Kaserne A, separated from the prisoners’ quarters by permanently locked doors reinforced with heavy wooden barricades, was occupied by the Kommandantur, the area reserved for German officers and camp personnel, including the commandant. The inner and outer gates of the camp stood at either end of the Kommandantur and anyone entering or leaving the camp had to pass between it and the guardroom that faced it. The remainder of Kaserne A and all of Kaserne B, apart from the cellars, were occupied by prisoners.

Each of the two barrack blocks was about fifty yards long by twenty deep, and they were separated from each other by a gap of seventy yards. In front of the prison blocks was the Spielplatz – a part-cobbled, part-gravelled area that doubled as a parade-ground and exercise yard, where the prisoners assembled for the twice-daily Appel – roll-call.

The prison yard also contained a series of troughs where the cavalry horses had been watered; two single-storeyed, wood-boarded cookhouses, one for each barrack block, set apart from the main building; a potato patch; a woodshed; the bath house for the prisoners; and the parcel room where parcels from prisoners’ families and the Red Cross were to be stored and issued.

A cinder path ran around the edge of the Spielplatz. Beyond it was a plain wire fence, fixed to low wooden posts, that also sealed off the area behind and to the sides of the barrack blocks. It marked the start of the ‘neutral ground’3 or no man’s land, introduced after a flurry of early escapes. Patrolled by armed guards stationed thirty or forty yards apart, it was off-limits to all prisoners, and anyone straying into the area was liable to be shot without warning. Ferocious dogs ‘trained to attack’4 – ‘the things now called Alsatians’ – were also used, and prowled the whole of the prison compound at night, ‘keeping many awake with their howling and actually attacking officers’.

Beyond the no man’s land to the rear and sides of the barrack blocks, the boundary was a low wall topped with steel palisades that were six feet high and set at five- or six-inch intervals. From the top5 of each one, a three-foot steel rail was inclined inwards at an angle of about 120 degrees and strung with four strands of barbed wire. The wall continued right around the site, broken only by a locked steel postern gate near the end of Kaserne B, through which the camp commandant would sometimes make an unexpected appearance; but to the front of the barrack blocks, the perimeter was set thirty yards inside the wall and formed by an eight-foot chain-link and barbed-wire fence ‘of considerable thickness’.6 Immediately beyond the fence was a row of widely spaced sentry boxes where the guards huddled in bad weather, and beyond them, but still inside the wall of the camp, were the married quarters for the camp guards, a store shed and a gymnasium. The whole of the perimeter fence and the camp area was brilliantly illuminated7 by powerful electric arc lights, giving the armed guards stationed at intervals outside the fence a clear view of the exercise yard and the barrack blocks by night and day.

A road, Bodenstrasse, ran just outside the perimeter fence along the north and west sides of the camp; the other two sides were flanked by open fields. Other than a few wisps of trampled grass and the weeds between the cobbles, the only vegetation growing inside the wire was the crop in the potato patch and the row of half a dozen skeletal, malnourished saplings on the edge of the Spielplatz, but from the upper windows of the barrack blocks the prisoners could look out over a plain of crops and allotments, broken only by a row of well-spaced trees lining the far bank8 of a stream among the fields. ‘The country is9 quite pretty,’ one prisoner wrote, though the view in one direction was marred a little by the sight of another large prison camp for interned civilians in the middle-distance. The railway line also ran close enough to the southern perimeter of the prisoner-of-war camp for the inmates to be able to see the passing trains. That gave at least one prisoner immense pleasure: ‘This sounds very childish, but small things please small minds, and one’s mind gets very small after a bit of this.’

The red roofs10 of the town of Holzminden were also visible a mile away, its skyline dominated by a factory with a high chimney, the needle-sharp spire of the Lutheran church and the tall granary that stood on the quay alongside the River Weser. In the distance, dense forests of pine and fir cloaked the lower slopes of a range of high grey hills, rising to a craggy peak. To the west, just beyond the town, there were glimpses of the river, glinting silver against the deep shadows of the steep far bank. Running roughly north–south, it formed an additional natural barrier barring the way to any escaping prisoners making for the frontier with the neutral Netherlands more than a hundred and fifty miles away.

The prison facilities were unfinished. The bath house had not even been started and the parcel room and the canteen, from one or both of which the inmates might have hoped to augment their prison rations, were closed. In any event, the disruption caused by moving so many prisoners meant that parcels did not start arriving until several weeks had passed. In the meantime, they ate black bread so hard and stale that it could have been used to drive in nails, and watery gruel containing turnip and little else. All lost weight dramatically and those who were already thin became dangerously emaciated.

Most of the prisoners found themselves sharing rooms that were only twenty-two feet11 by fourteen, but had to accommodate ten to fourteen closely packed men. At the ends of the building on each floor, next to the stairs, there were small rooms only large enough for three or four. Although they were even more cramped, the greater privacy they afforded meant that they were eagerly sought after by the prisoners. There were also a number of smaller rooms in the attic, but they were bitterly cold in winter. In each room there was ‘a washstand12 with three pipes attached’, but, except on rare occasions, none produced hot water, and there were two lavatories on each floor; when the camp was full, that equated roughly to one for every fifty men. The prisoners’ beds were ‘abominable’.13 They had to lie on mattresses stuffed with wood shavings or ‘parcel room packings’, because the use of hay14 or straw had been expressly forbidden by General von Hanisch, whose responsibilities included the control of four prison camps, including Holzminden. ‘The pillows15 were also filled with shavings and we only had one dirty sheet with two filthy blankets apiece.’ The sheets were changed once a month and often less frequently than that, sometimes at intervals that exceeded two16 months, and the blankets were never17 changed at all.

Prisoners were not allowed to hang pictures or anything else on the walls of the rooms, and shelves were not permitted. Each room looked like ‘a big, bare barn,1819