BEHIND THE GERMAN LINES.
The Ypres Times.
45
G. H. JOHNSON.
Taken prisoner at Queant, March 31st, 1918, and inarched to Denain and on to Wallers.
We were never registered as prisoners of war, but were merely given a number, which
was painted on our tunics in 6 in. figures, mine being 567. Postcards were given to us,
but we had to put a fictitious address on them. (Parchim, Mecklenberg.) These reached
England at the end of May, and were the first news relatives received.
It is surprising the number of rumours that arise in an enclosed camp, each contra
dicting the other, but that we were going to a rail-head to entrain for Germany was the
most popular with us. On the 2nd April, after receiving our rations, one third of a loaf
and a litre of coffee, we left Wallers, but hopes were dashed when we turned westwards
towards the battlefront. Each had to carry a pick or shovel, not to work with, but to
save the Germans' own transport the trouble, and they weighed heavily on our thinning
flesh. By nightfall we had marched 33 kilometres (20 miles) with onty two halts, and pulled
up at Marquion on the Cambrai-Arras road. On the march a sentry picked up a rusty
grenade and threw it amongst us, wounding several and blinding one. No food was issued,
only a drink of coffee at midnight.
The next day interpreters were chosen and we were formed into companies of 100
each. Three companies set off in a drenching downpour, feeling very dejected. Passing
Bourlon Wood, we saw a stranded tank that had fallen into a concrete pit, also other
evidence of the previous November fighting. Crossing the Cambrai-Bapaume road we
halted at the ruins of Anneux and were told that we should have to reslate a barn before
we could get a covering and that there were no rations that day.
Work was to commence now, but through refusing because of lack of food, we fell
foul of the Kommandant. Anyone wanting to report sick had to walk to Manquion to
do so, and then return, a 10 miles journey. Food was reduced further to a fifth of a loaf
and the hours of work were 7 a.m. till 2 p.m. The work was burying dead. Parties of
15 with two guards, in extended order, searched Bourlon Wood for bodies that had been
lying there since November, '17, five months previous, dig holes and push them in with
poles, and take up the search again. English, Germans and horses were buried in this
fashion and I think this nauseating work on the insufficient food was the worst experience
throughout captivity. We were able to get our first wash, in shell hole water, now, but
this could not affect long hair, beards, dirty ragged clothes or feet showing through
the boots, or only rags instead of boots.
After a week of this work, 100 of us were picked out to go to Pronville, and going
through Cambrai we came to a village on the canal bank. But it turned out the German
had read his map wrong and had taken us to Proville, so we had to return to Anneux
that day. A deviating march of 14 miles, during which we had often to stand deep in
mud to let transport pass, amongst which were officers riding in looted ancient cabs,
who glared at us through their monocles.
The next day found us at Pronville and later at Queant, the point of capture. The
roads were one mass of liquid mud, and amidst this, a handful of barley was given to each.
There we stopped till 10 p.m., then moved on to a sunken road and into dugouts 30 ft.
deep, and in pitch darkness.
At 4.30 a.m. we were roused by the sentries yelling, Raus, Raus (Get out) and
led to the cookhouse (what's in a name?) received a sixth of a loaf, and the drink changed
to senna tea. The loaf was divided in this way. Every sixth man received a loaf, and
the one that had the knife did the cutting and incidentally got the largest share. All five
would watch the pieces and wait for the word (cutter with hand on his share). At this
a grab was made. Eater, the method was altered to drawing by lots.
