Dr. Ascher was also an effective buffer between a prisoner and any soldier who was disposed to assume an unwarrantably tyrannical attitude.  If he detected any brow-beating which was undeserved he never hesitated to bring the upstart down to his proper position by severe reprimand, and a candid reminder that a guard was merely a guard and as such was not invested with powers akin to those belonging to the Commandant.  The soldier would fume under the castigation, but it was more than he dared to incur the doctor’s wrath and hostility, inasmuch as the latter would not have hesitated to make the rebellious soldier’s life unbearable.  In this manner he undeniably saved us from considerable brutality, which some of the soldiers would dearly have loved to have expended upon us.

One day Major Bach announced that the clothes of the prisoners throughout the camp were to undergo a thorough fumigation.  For this purpose a special mechanical disinfecting apparatus had been sent to the camp.  I may say that the instructions were not issued before they became downright urgent.  Some of the garments—­not those worn by the British prisoners—­had become infested with vermin to such a degree as to constitute a plague and were now absolutely repulsive.  Two of the British prisoners, who happened to be engineers, were selected for this unpleasant task, and it proved to be of such a trying nature that both men narrowly escaped suffocation in the process.

But the disinfecting apparatus was delivered in what we always found to be the typical German manner.  The fumigator came to hand but without the engine to drive it.  Two or three days later we were informed that there was a traction engine at Paderborn which was to be brought into Sennelager Camp to act as the stationary engine to supply power to the fumigator.  But to our dismay we learned that the traction engine in question could not be driven to the camp under its own power because some of the vital parts constituting its internals had broken down, and repairs would be quite out of the question until it reached the camp.  This we were told would demand the towage of the engine over the last three miles.  We learned, moreover, that as horses were absolutely unobtainable at any price, the prisoners themselves would have to drag it in.  Forthwith thirty men were selected and, equipped with thick, heavy ropes, were marched off to Paderborn to salvage the derelict.

Our engineering friends, upon discovering the defective engine, and not appreciating the prospect of the manual haul, set to work feverishly to see if they could not contrive to complete sufficient repairs to coax the engine to run the three miles under her own steam.  They probed into, and tinkered with the dark regions of the locomotive, but to no effect.  The defective parts demanded replacement.  No doubt the authorities had declared the engine unfit for service in the army, hence its appearance at Paderborn for service at Sennelager.