"KAMERAD!” “KAMERAD!”

Taranaki Herald, Volume LXVI, Issue 16036, 22 January 1918, Page 5

"KAMERAD!” “KAMERAD!”

HUMOURS OF HUN SURRENDERS,

A feature of each hig British offensive on the western front has been the large number of Hun prisoners captured by our dauntless and irresistible troops. In many’ instances the enemy has offered istout opposition before he would allow the imperturbable Tommy to make him, as it were, “captive of his bow and spear”; hut in most cases, ©specially of late, the Huns have been actually glad to surrender, and “Kamerad! Kamerad!” has risen to their lips with an alacrity and spontaneity which has frequently suggested a sort of “surrender drill” carefully practised beforehand.

This, indeed, is almost borne out by the manner of many of those erstwhile warriors when they do the .Kamerad stunt. In the Delville Wood fight, for instance (and other fights too numerous to mention), they trooped out of the dug-outs in parade-like procession, holding out their papers and watches as propitiatory’ offerings. On another occasion an officer said he hoped he would be allowed to have his servant with him, as the servant was surrendering with the next batch! Another Hun fell on his knees and offered his captor a three-mark note if he would spare his life. “And I hadn’t the heart, when I took the note,” said the Tommy, “to tell him that it wasn’t worth threepence!” The story is told, too, of an officer captured with 21 men—four of them wounded and already ticketed for a German clearing station—who offered his gold watch, worth at least £3D, to the officer who took his surrender. When it was refused, he held it out to a. sergesit, and then to a private, and finally put it hack in his tunic with a puzzled look. They cannot understand .their captors. Th© same kind of thing happens in almost every operation, for the German soldier still believes that the British will kill him if he is captured, and still ' has a hazy notion that perhaps he can buy his life with such valuables as he has about him.

“LIKE A RAT HUNT.” A sergeant described the assault at one part of the line as a parade ground affair. The Germans die! not put. up much of a fight, and when they saw his regiment coming for them they ran out to meet them and asked to be taken prisoners. Ho saw one lad_ about 10 years old, who, though wounded, was marching a party of 20 Germans back across No Man’s Land. The boy enjoyed it immensely, and gave them the most detailed instructions at the top of his voice as to the way and formation in which they were to march. “It was more like a rat hunt than anything else,” said a corporal. “We went in one end, and the Germans—at least those who were lucky—came out

lat the other. One of the Bodies! offered me a pair of trousers if I would take him prisoner.’-’ . . A Glasgow officer, writing home, tells—as they all do—of his experiences. in the recent fighting. “It was a great business the capturing of prisoners,” he says, “and unusually amusing, despite the grim work of the day. One old Gorman, grey-hearded and bald, wandered among our lot for quite a long time, but nobody would be seen going back with him. I think he •eventually found the way to the cage himself. There was keen competition to capture hefty ones, and some were big, brawny six-footers, and no mistake.” Funny beyond words was the experience of a certain officer who came upon four Germans in an otherwise deserted stretch of trench, and, having previously emptied his revolver, paused in some uncertainty _ as they came rushing at him, jabbering in chorus. Ho retreats ed somewhat precipitately to call for help to secure the Bodies as prisoners, but the quartet ran faster than he did', and, overtaking him, proceeded to embrace him, to press all their belongings upon him, to supplicate him by tone and gesture to accept their surrender. Although ho marched in with dignified satisfaction at the head of his little bag, he did not hesitate to tell the story against himself.

HAD ENOUGH OF IT! A big, strapping Highlander, wounded on the head and left arm during the attack on the Arras front, told a correspondent that, his brigade had attacked east of Arras and taken four Boche lines with hardly a casualty to talk about. After that the German positions were very strong, and their resistance stiffened considerably. Also, their officers and N.C.O.’s began to drive them, with pretty frequent revolver shots from behind, instead of surrendering with them, as they had done in tho front lines. After Jock had got his two “pickets” his platoon officer ordered him hack to have his wounds dressed, and on his way to the rear he fell in with a strange procession—a party of 60 Germans marching along m fours, with a German officer at their head. Jock looked and thought. Then he went up to the column, waved his rifle, and halted them. “Who’s in charge here?” he asked. “I am. Highlander. We’ve had enough of this war,” replied the officer in quite good English. “Have y© no-escort?” was Jock’s next question. And then when the Bocho told him they _ had none, he said pityingly, “Well, then, I’ll e’en tak’ ye masel’.” Arid he did, marching at their head like a sergeant-major until he reached one of our dressing stations, and was able to hand over his new command to. the care of a regular escort. ‘ That, too, was a remarkable experience which befell Lieutenant Lovell Greene, son of Colonel Greene, of Natal, who was wounded the day before the Springboks attacked Delville Wood. lie was taken prisoner afid placed on a stretcher. An officer handed him over to the care of four Ger-

man soldiers till ho could bo removed to the rear. When the officer was out of sight one of the quartet of faithful, guardians said to Lieutenant Greene, “See here, wo yield ourselves as your preesoners.” The wounded officer smiled at him and said, ‘‘That’s i good joke; you have disarmed me and 1 am wounded, yet you say you are my prisoners. You are making game of me.”

Said the spokesman of the four faithful guards. “Oh, no, it is not at all a game. We yield ourselves to you as preesoners. We know now’ that the British do not kill preesoners, and as we have had more than enough of fighting, w© now go with you. We shall take you anywhere you . like. Where you want to go?" “Back to the British lines, of course.”

“All right. You point the way and we kotn with you.” Seeing the men were in earnest. Lieutenant Greene pointed a roundabout way to our linos, and they duly carried him there, yielding themselves without more ado.

A CEREMONIOUS SURRENDER. When Captain 's company rushed a trench to our right (writes a secondlieutenant in an Irish regiment) a German officer surrendered in great style. Ho stood to attention, gave a clinking salute, and said in perfect English, “Sir, myself, this other officer, and 10 men are your prisoners.” Captain said, “Bight you are, old chap!” and they shook hands, the prisoners being led away immediately. At Pozieres an officer of the S s had a very laughable experience. He was working along a communication trench with a party of bombers, when, be met a regular procession of Bodies, all holding their hands well up, and led by one who carried an enormous cigarbox over his head. The British officer suspected some sort of foul play, of course. The Bodies have played so many dirty tricks. But the fellow whipped open ;he big box and showed it had nothing in it but cigars, and explained as well as he could that it was by way of being a sort of propitiatory offering. He wound up by saying, “This war no good—no good at all, sir. Piccadilly again soon now. sir!” On one occasion, at least, Fritz was “argued” into captivity. One of our Tommies, wounded and alone, was taken prisoner by a German soldier whom he encountered on the edge of a shell-crater. These two men wore in No Man’s Land between the German barrage and ours, like men on a strip of quiet earth between hell-fires. They were watched by an observing officer through his field-glasses. They sat down, side by side and seemed to be talking together, indifferent to the explosions on cither side of them. They exchanged shoulder-straps and cigarettes and souvenirs. Then, as we now know by the British soldier’s own story, he persuaded the German that it would be better if he (Fritz) became the prisbnor. “Tommies coming.” he said ; “you come back with me.” The German agreed. And out of the snow-

field, between two lines of fiery tumult, these two figures made their way, taking cover in shell-holes now' and then, stumbling and helping each other up again, but reaching our lines at last. The German was the prisoner. Generally speaking, however, tho Huns don’t require much persuasion to change their quarters, especially after a taste of our artillery. As one chap said, “From out the tumble-down houses emerged a few scores of Huns—without riflfs or anything of a fighting nature about them—and simply marched into custody! That was all. They w'oro quite honest about the whole business. They had bad enough of it—our artilllery had not only wrecked their place of abode, but their very nerves. That flurry of shrap. was their last perfunctory smack at us. When we actually arrived on the scene they threw up the sponge!” GUARDS LEAD THE WAY. Not once but many times tho guards have been known to go ifhead to show the way, confident that the flock will come obediently' after. Illustrative of this there is a story of a British sergeant who was conducting a considerable bunch of German prisoner's to the roar. He was walking in front of them, showing them the way. An officer met him and remonstrated. “What the devil are you walking in front like that for?” he said. “They’ll do you in.” The sergeant looked round and cast a scornful eye over the downcast Kamerad Brigade. “Them!” ho replied disdainfully; and he walked on in front of them as before, and led them safely to the cage. Not only so, but—as still further illustrating how contemptuously Tommy regards the Huns—one day on the roadside a British sentry • handed his rifle and bayonet to one of the prisoners, so. that the latter might give an exhibition of German bayonet drill, which he did while the unarmed guard looked interestedly on! That the British soldier does not assess the German at a high figure is further emphasised hy the story which tells of a young officer of artillery who saw about 50 Germans coming towards him, apparently quite alone. This surprised him. But . a second later he saw that they wore prisoners being “taken in” hy a single small Scots soldier in a kilt. “What will you give pie one of those for?” called the officer to Jock. “Ob,” shouted ho, “ye can have the lot for a drink !”