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Prisoners of War need your help.

During the recent battles on the Western Front thousands of our brave men have had the misfortune to be made prisoners of war by the Germans. These brave soldiers, who bore the widest fury of the German onslaught must not be forgotten by the people at home because now more than ever they will need your help. Although the treatment meted out to prisoners is much better than during the early stages of the War when the Germans used every brutal means possible against the hated English, yet these men must get through an ordeal such as human nature can scarcely endure. For two solid months or more they will be haunted by that grim gaunt fiend – Hunger, and not until their parcels arrive from England will they be able to appease his gnawing pangs. Just imagine the following menu day after day:-

6 a.m. – Coffee made from roasted acorns, neither sugar nor milk and nothing whatever to eat.
12 noon – Soup composed of turnip tops, occasional pieces of turnip or carrot, and water.
6 p.m. – Soup made from a meal like sand and water.
A piece of sour black bread composed of rye, potatoes and sawdust.

Cannot you see these poor fellows roaming round the dismal barrack squares, with lean and hungry looks, and with grim set countenances from which flash forth occasional sparks of British pride, and surrounded by a horde of pitiable looking objects who were once Russian and Italian citizens, but who have been reduced to a state worse than that of the lowest animals by months of organised Starvation? They are miserable creatures who roam round scavenging in ashpits digging out fish heads, and scraping out empty preserved meat tins thrown aside by the British and French, who are receiving parcels from the Home Country. They are dirty, unkempt, and half clothed in rags which would have been utterly despised by the bygone ‘knights of the road’ in this Country. Only on very rare occasions does one catch a glimpse of enthusiasm or anger on their faces. Such expressions may be seen when a cart laden with turnip tops for the soup kitchen is drawn into the barrack square. They then cluster round this prize, and even though the Germans encircle it with a cordon of armed sentries, yet these Russians and Italians mad with starvation, and regardless of bayonet points or rifle butts, make wild rushes through this cordon in order to snatch a handful of turnip tops to endeavour to allay the pangs of biting Hunger. Hundreds of these poor wretches died of starvation or from disease brought about by starvation. They receive no parcels from their homes and the inevitable result is a slow lingering death.

At the camp where I was a prisoner, I remember seeing the arrival of six or seven hundred British and Russian Prisoners of War, who had been kept for as long as eight months behind the German front in the danger zone, where they had suffered not only the horrors of starvation, but had also been subject to shell-fire from our own Artillery besides bombs from our Airmen. Can you imagine the condition of those poor fellows at the end of six months? Many of their comrades had succumbed to the ordeal; others had been shot by the Germans on the slightest provocation, such as stealing bread, leaving the ranks to pick up scraps thrown by Belgian civilians, and for refusing to work. Following a threat of reprisals by the British Government, the remainder were sent into camps in Germany. And in what a plight did we see them on their arrival! Worn out with fatigue, covered with sores and dirt, haggard, half clothed in rags, they presented a most horrible appearance. Men collapsed in the ranks and had to be carried away on stretchers, and many died on reaching the camps. Such a sight I never wish to see again. Had they been paraded in the streets of any of our towns they would have raised cries of shame and horror. Even the German civilians, accustomed to ghastly sights, were reduced to tears, and caused such a scene that an order was issued by the Commandant of the Camp that no more had to be marched through the streets, but that they have to be conducted along secluded paths and under cover of darkness.

The prisoners of war who were already in the Camp, and receiving parcels, gathered together as much food, soap, and clothing as possible in order to alleviate the distress of the sufferers. Have you ever seen men turned into savages of the worst type through lack of food? These men on seeing the food made one wild rush at the tables and only brute force could appeal to them. Owing to their utterly wretched condition they had lost all sense of fair play, and brutal as it may seem, many of them had to be knocked down by their pitying comrades before order could be restored and so each receive his fair share. Sunken but wild-eyed, mere skeletons, these poor fellows would have broken the hearts of mothers in England.

Every British Prisoner of War in Germany would soon be in such a frightful condition as I have described if parcels were not sent regularly to them. Surely we cannot allow such a horrible state of affairs to exist among our fighting men who have the misfortune to fall into the hands of the Hun. Therefore, I appeal to every reader of the ‘Bede’ to do his bit for our Prisoners of war in Germany. You cannot send food to them, but you can provide money to buy this food which is packed and sent by Regimental Committees. I believe that the Principal of the College is kind enough to receive contributions for this purpose, so here is a chance for every Bedeite to again show a bit of “Good Spirit.”
W. G. W (’11-’13)

Date: April 1918

Author: Weymouth George Wash

Where to find this: Online Resource
https://www.dur.ac.uk/resources/palace.green/collections/dc/The_Bede_v14-no2_April_1918.pdf

Contributed by Fiona Johnson - Durham