Wiseacres

Johannes Rienau's diary: Holyport camp, summer 1918

Holyport

June 13th 1918

On June 8th one phase of my captivity came to an end. A meaningful day in our monotonous drifting! Spent the last nights in Colsterdale in Hut 10.2 and in the staff hut. Had a little bonfire at the crematorium. Burning of the whole [stage of the] Freie Volksbühne et al. On evening of the 7th, took leave of the orderlies who alone will remain in the North Camp. Search in the South Camp mess. Also spent the last night there. Almost all slept badly. Reveille at 4am. Breakfast at 4.30 with bread and butter and cake. 5.00 Marched off in clear sunny weather. A final happy march to Masham. Departure 7.08 via Ripon, Marston Moor, York, Doncaster (10.50), Peterborough, London (Kings Cross Station). From there in motors, via Nottingham Place and through the teeming metropolis to Paddington Station. Broke there 3pm to 4.30 for tea and bread. Then via West Ealing, West Drayton (Windsor), Taplow to Maidenhead. Sweated on foot for 3km along a level asphalt street between trees, hedges and pretty villas, to Holyport. After being searched, moved into Hut A5 together with Schertz, Fischer, Voges, Wolff, Ziemann, van de Loo, Schröder. Double supper. Slept very soundly after this exciting and unforgettable day.

July 1st 1918

Monday. Second garden concert last night, with cider. While beneath the great chestnuts of the chapel the groups of officers sat at small tables and intoned the famous marching song “The Gladiators’ Farewell”, upstairs in a hushed lecture-room of the castle, Neumann, Hacker, Grashoff, a cripple and a mail orderly were scheming over the coming Tuesday…… Meanwhile the program was played out below: “Men are all rogues”, “Maids are like little angels”, “Luna Waltz”, “Once in Schöneberg”, “Child I sleep so badly”, “Waltzes from ‘The Divorced Wife’”. – I have already gone walking three times in Holyport’s fine surroundings. Not permitted to go to the Thames, unfortunately. Rounders almost every afternoon, sometimes also participation in football or hockey. In the aftermath of abundant parcels from Germany and Holland I am fit for it.

3.7.

Rounders yesterday, first time with the first team. Thanks to a strong north-east wind, some thumping shots! Neumann’s attempt to get in already today went awry. Wrong key! Repetition tomorrow! My third game of billiards this evening! 44'! Lecture last night from an airman shot down in Italy on the subject of his intelligence transmission. The night before, drunken party given by Hut A6. (Lt. Voss, Ettling, Thorwählen, S'challes, Starke, Wittmann, Thomann, Warnecke, Popken, Noack, Reuter, Tietgen) because they now have only 100 days to get through until the expiration of their 18 months. Just 106 days for me now! I hope to be able to begin my studies in Leiden or Utrecht.

5.7.

In the Times I have just found the following poem: ‘The New Mecca:

Mr. Frederick Clarke, writing from Bath, sends us the following amusing adaptation:-

“Wo der sichre Generalstab sich in Blutgeschäft erfrischt, Wo der fleißige Chemiker Auserlesene Gifte mischt, Ziehet hin! Ziehet hin! Es gibt nur eine Mörderstadt, Es gibt nur ein Berlin! – Wo für’s Frau- und-Kind-Ertränken Christenvolk Medaillen schlägt, Wo der spurenlos-Versenker hassbegehrte Lorbeern trägt, Eilet hin! Eilet hin! Es gibt nur… Wo für arme Kriegsgefangene neue Foltern man ersinnt, Und die Gunst der lieben Belgier durch die Sklaverei gewinnt, Stürzet hin! Stürzet hin! Es gibt… Wo der Hass der Erdenvölker um der Frevler Häupter loht, Und die langsam nahende Strafe dem Verbrecher Schande droht, Flieget hin! Flieget hin! Es gibt nur eine Mörderstadt, Es gibt nur ein Berlin!” Bath, July 1. Frederick Clarke.’

6.7.

6.15, Sunday evening. Roll-call just now, this early because theatre begins at 7.30. The sun is still shining hotly out of a blue sky. Around 5pm, A5 was waiting in vain for the photographer. We had all tried to make ourselves respectable and were sitting on the castle steps, Neumann beside me. Now – within 5 minutes two sensations for the camp. Neumann can finally carry out his long-hatched plan. He is being carried out through the gate in a laundry basket, by the orderlies. The basket is already on the wagon, the driver sitting up on the box. Then a Tommy has the bright idea of examining the baskets, and Neumann [Lt. der Reserve, 162nd Infantry Regiment, Schönberg-Mecklenburg] wearing von Haniel’s white trousers, coat under his arm, hair tousled, climbs out of the upturned laundry basket. Three heavily-armed Britons lead him away. Almost simultaneously, one of the cows gives birth to two calves, whose attempts to walk and run are an unprecedented sight which holds the entire camp enthralled, packed against the perimeter wire.

7.7.

Sunday. Relatively good lunch and dinner. Fast-moving match of rounders in the afternoon! Grashoff bested Petersen 84:74. In the evening, Schaumkell beat me 25:17 in a tiring hour-long game of billiards. Tonight, Richthofen-squadron pilot Lt. Keseling drunk as a dog on one bottle of wine!

8.7.

15.7.

Monday. Chamber music last night was agreeable and stirring – Brahms. Four days ago Fritz Voges pledged his firm and affectionate friendship. Election of council of honour. Election of reps for the huts. Two rooms, sixteen men voting in one. Voss elected (or ordered?) onto kitchen committee. At last! Will it get any better? Oblt. Schumacher (airman) stepped down from his adjutancy ‘on health grounds’. Lt. Prill (airman) now 1st adjutant and von Wülknitz 2nd. Another minor victory for the Colsterdalers! Now it only remains to topple the entire camp board and kitchen committee. After it’s rained through the roof for days on end, now that the fine weather has come they’ve started with the tarring. A number of issues, which we of A5 intend to lay before the next reps’ meeting, shed good light upon our existence, which is made even harder for us on the German side:

1) How can it be that the English sergeant-major dines in our kitchen every day at 1pm?

2) Is it possible that gentlemen who do not dine in the huts get more porridge in the morning than we who eat in the huts? Our mess orderly (Hut II) reports so to us.

3) Is it entirely necessary that the room orderlies sweep the dirty floors out into the lanes right outside the doors?

4) Is nothing being done by the committee about the rain coming through into the huts?

5) Might not the mess tins be washed out more thoroughly? Might not the knives be better cleaned, and sharpened now and again?

6) How could we possibly have been given mouldy bread on two occasions?

The bed legs which had sunk into the tar floor have now finally been lifted and set on cement slabs. Oblt. Schumacher is moving in to A4 next to us. – For the first time I am trying to cultivate a moustache. The night before last, I played guitar with Schaumkell. Another guitar has arrived, and even a violin - and what a racket we make. After “Lights out” at 10.30, an animal cacophony suddenly breaks loose. Chicken clucks, the grunts of pigs, cats meowing, the howling and supernatural barking of dogs, cows, sheep, horses, canaries etc - and even grenades can be heard.

16.7.

Oblt. von Zedlitz, who had recently taken over the Orderly Company, put up a notice re orderlies’ hours of work, under which the Major (Schummerich) wrote: “Where do you get this from?” At this von Zedlitz naturally stepped down from the post. – Voss, who was not elected but ordered by the Major to serve on the kitchen committee, has refused. – A sunny morning! Everyone is waiting more tensely than ever for the arrival of the paper. Word was already out last night that the German offensive had begun from Amiens to Chateau-Thierry. They say the news from the Hague is that all the men too are to be exchanged after 18 months.

31.7.

The thunderstorm has finally abated over the question of parole. Most have given their parole to the English again. I shall never do that again! – After pulling a hamstring (or a haemorrhage in it?) I cannot take part in sports despite the hot sunshine. Very many parcels from home, for some days! For two weeks new potatoes at last, instead of the old and often rotten ones! Tomatoes aplenty! Fried in Miss Petersen’s butterfat! Often had elevenses with Voges. Maggi soup with Dutch sausage and eggs in! At night, much playing of searchlights to the east. By day, pilots’ tricks over towards Bray. Three days ago, A5 was photographed. Lt. Nagel has captured a swarm of bees which we have been going over to see. Recently a new Captain, Loraine (Assistant Commandant). Laundry confiscated!

10.8.

Received many birthday parcels in recent days. A dashing attempt yesterday by Lt. zur See Buchheister. Only free for an hour, unfortunately. Sports ground now open only under close supervision. I’ll not be going out walking again. Played rounders this morning with Voges. Lt. Engel advised me though to put my shirt on for the sake of the locals and the comradeship. Both beyond my comprehension. – South of the Somme a successful English offensive has regrettably been going on for two days. An evening of Schiller last night. The Capuchin preacher out of “Wallenstein’s Camp”, a scene from the fifth act of both “Piccolomini” and “Wallenstein’s Death”. A touching scene from “Wilhelm Tell”. The young Melchtal splendidly portrayed by von Haniel. Last Sunday and Monday good Mozart music from the House Orchestra. Received today the twelve photographs ordered (6/6) and distributed to friends and relatives in Germany. Before me now lies “My Fair Country”, a dear present from Erika. Unfortunately the weather has been sunny and dry again for some days. My sleep is still badly throughout. Thus one night, thrashing in bed, I hit the table, leaving Guggenheimer’s handsome vase in a thousand shards on the asphalt. Also other small items of value have been lost in the course of my imprisonment, e.g. left Stubenrauch’s battleship in Colsterdale, Buchberger’s portrait of myself, etc.

21.8.

Yesterday was a day of rejoicing. Ina sent me a piece of Home - 49 fine photographs which I shall soon put in the album. I am not exactly superstitious, but nonetheless had such a sense of foreboding, as if a mischance had befallen; the little “war substitute” vase which Fritz gave me for my birthday, was out of the door in pieces; the golden-red flowers lying in the dirt. This morning I dreamed uneasily of Husum. A birthday serenade woke me early. In bed I read the last lines of Storm’s “In St. Jürgen” and for the first time in over a year, I think, I was shaken with relieving tears which thoroughly dampened my pillow.

26.8.

Monday. Three days ago another camp senior appeared, Major and Regimental Commander Count Brockdorf, who recounts how young men from Alsace at the front are refusing to advance; and that 300 officers are still sitting in Southampton – Bear’s Mountain. This morning I dreamed that Wilhelm had fallen in battle, on Sylt island, fighting the folk of nearby Morsum... Saturday, the day before yesterday that is, on the occasion of Major Schrott’s birthday, who is happy no longer to have to be the camp senior: First performance of the grand Camp Revue. Music by von Pieverling. In 6 tableaux. In the Garrison. In Blue. In Brussels. Trenches. P.O.W. in Canada. A Dream (Picture of the future). Last night sat in comfort with Fritz again in the entrance-hall of the Lodge, reading, and then stared for ages, dreaming, past the dazzling perimeter lights, out into the gloomy darkness away across the Thames. Voges was afraid of his first days in Germany because of his being confined to quarters for three days.

[Notebook labelled:] A&NCS Ld. Stationery Dept. 105 Victoria St. SW.

[Translator's note: diary volume ends here.]

About the author, Johannes Rienau