One of the most glaring instances of the effective manner in which the Germans sought to disarm and to outwit an official visitor was narrated to me by a fellow-prisoner who had been transferred from Sennelager to Ruhleben.  I conclude that the incident must have happened, during the interregnum when I was “free on Pass” in Cologne.  I cannot vouch for the accuracy of the statement, but I do not think there is the slightest reason to doubt the word of our compatriot, because he was in Sennelager at the time and actually passed through the experience.  Furthermore it is typical of Teuton methods in matters pertaining to the treatment of prisoners.

X——­ stated that, despite the havoc wrought during the “Bloody Night” of September 11, all the prisoners were still herded on the field at Sennelager until long after my departure.  They were exposed to the heavy rains and were all reduced to a miserable condition.  Suddenly an order came up commanding all prisoners to return instantly to their old barracks.  This sudden manifestation of a humane feeling upon the part of the Commandant provoked widespread amazement.  What had happened?

The surprise of the prisoners became accentuated when they regained the permanent buildings which had formerly comprised our home.  They were hurried into their quarters and shaken down with incredible speed.  Fires were set going and the unhappy prisoners made themselves comfortable confident that their trials now were over, and that they were destined to prolonged residence under weathertight roofs.

The following day an august visitor arrived at the camp.  Whether he was an emissary from the American Embassy or not my informant was unable to say, for the simple reason that no one knew his identity, and every precaution was observed to prevent any information upon this matter from becoming known among the prisoners.  Be that as it may he made a detailed tour of the camp, investigating the arrangements and accommodation provided for the hapless inhabitants’ welfare.  Under no circumstances whatever were the British prisoners permitted to speak to the mysterious stranger.  Any attempt in this direction was sternly and forcibly suppressed by the guards who swarmed everywhere.  Evidently, judging from his demeanour, the stranger was deeply impressed—­and satisfied—­with what he saw with his own eyes.

But the moment he had left the camp the prisoners were paraded and re-transferred to the field.  This story, if accurate, and I see no reason to doubt its veracity, is interesting from one circumstance.  When we were summarily turned out upon the field by the inhuman Major Bach, he advanced as his reason for such action that vast numbers of German recruits were momentarily expected, and that the buildings were required to house them.  But according to the foregoing incident the barracks were still empty.  The lying Commandant of Sennelager Camp was thus condemned out of his own mouth, while the minute precautions he observed to prevent the mysterious stranger from learning a word about our experiences on the field proves that he merely turned us out into the open, herded like animals in a corral, to satisfy his own personal cravings for dealing out brutality and torture.