The more energetic among us set to work without delay.  My South African friend, Moresby White, and myself unearthed one or two poles lying forlorn and forgotten among the grass and slush.  We secured these, set them up, and over them stretched our blankets, the improvised dwelling thus obtained being a crude kind of wigwam.  Others built little domiciles somewhat reminiscent of an Eskimo igloo, and in this field of endeavour I may say, striking ingenuity and resourcefulness were displayed.

[Illustration:  THE AFTERMATH OF THE “BLOODY NIGHT.”

The prisoners not being provided by the German authorities with any form of shelter rudely fashioned tiny huts with slabs of earth to secure slight protection from the fury of the storm.  The hut in the foreground was built by the author and his South African colleague, Moresby White, who has since been released.  An extension was hurriedly made to give shelter to three Grimsby fishermen.

From a rough sketch made on “the field” by the author, September 14, 1914.]

My friend and I had scarcely finished our dwelling when along came some officials.  They saw what we had done, and then declared that we had taken Government material, in the form of the neglected poles, to which we had no manner of right.  Forthwith they demolished the shelter.  Intensely disgusted at this turn of events we had another look round for further material and obtained some tree branches.  We fashioned these to form the skeleton of a hut.  The guard hurried up and ordered us to take it down.  For a second time our labour was in vain, but we were grimly persevering and so ran up a third shelter.  This shared the self-same fate because we had committed a heinous breach of some one or other official regulation of which we knew nothing.

As we surveyed the ruins of our third attempt to raise something over our heads my South African friend became exasperated.  It was merely official spite which had provoked the destruction of our little homes.  He gritted his teeth and gave full vent to his innermost feelings which were by no means complimentary to our German oppressors.

“I’m damned if we don’t build something to which they cannot take exception,” blurted my companion.  I concurred, but a survey of the field for materials proving abortive we became somewhat glum.  Then I suddenly hit on an idea which I explained.  We would build a mud or turf hut.  It would take a little time but surely they would not knock that to pieces!

We foraged round and happened upon a spade.  With this we cut the sods and built a small square-shaped domicile into which we were able to crawl.  We made it sufficiently large, not only to accommodate our two selves but for the reception of company if necessary.  It was not a masterpiece by any means, while the interior had the rank aroma of newly-turned earth, but it was preferable to facing the elements, should they decide to be against us once more.  Other workers in the camp, who had been foiled similarly in their efforts to fashion a home from poles and sticks, emulated our example.  Consequently within a short space of time, diminutive huts, some recalling large beehives, were rising all over the field like mushrooms.