However, the moment the priests entered Sennelager we received a respite.  Officers and guards turned their savagery and spite from us to visit it upon these unhappy victims by night and by day and at every trick and turn.  Clubbing with the rifle was the most popular means of compelling them to obey this, or to do that.  More than once I have seen one of the aged religionists fall to the ground beneath a rifle blow which struck him across the back.  No indignity conceivable, besides a great many indescribable, was spared those venerable men, and they bowed to their revolting treatment with a meekness which seemed strangely out of place.

After one more than usually ferocious manifestation of attack I questioned our guard to ascertain the reason for this unprecedented treatment and why the priests had been especially singled out for such infamous ferocity.

“Ach!” he hissed with a violent expectoration, “They fired upon our brave comrades in Belgium.  They rang the bells of their churches to summon the women to the windows to fire upon our brothers as they passed.  The dogs!  We’ll show them!  We’ll break them before we have finished.  They won’t want to murder our brave troops again!”

The words were jerked out with such fearful fury that I refrained from pursuing the subject.  Later I had a chat with one of the oldest priests.  It was only with difficulty we could understand one another, but it was easy to discover that the charges were absolutely unfounded, and were merely the imagination of the distorted and savage Prussian mind when slipped from the leash to loot, assault and kill for the first time in his life.

A night or two later a few of us were purchasing food at the canteen.  Suddenly four soldiers came tumbling in, dragging with them one of the most aged of the Fathers.  He must have been on the verge of three-score and ten, and with his long white beard he presented an impressive, proud, and stately figure.  But the inflamed Prussian has no respect for age.  The old man was bludgeoned against the counter and at his abortive attempts to protect himself the soldiers jeered and laughed boisterously.

One of the soldiers called for a suit of clothes which was served out to prisoners, and for which we were supposed to pay six marks—­six shillings.  The leader of the party of soldiers grabbed the suit and, pushing the priest roughly, shouted,

“Here!  You can’t work in the fields with that garb you are wearing.  You’ve got to buy these.  Six marks!  Hurry up!  You’ve got to put them on!”

The priest, who did not understand a word of German, naturally failed to grasp the meaning of the command.  He promptly received a clout to knock some sense into him, the soldier meanwhile shaking the prison-like suit to emphasise what he meant.

In mute protest the priest shook his robes to indicate that he was quite content with what he was wearing.

“Come on!  If you don’t change we’ll do it for you!”