"You will soon see it," he said. "They built the altar themselves, and among the captured soldiers are three French priests."
At the end of the kitchen street I noticed an adjoining structure, which the Captain explained was the canteen. In there I found a wonderfully equipped little place, where all sorts of articles were for sale. Soldiers were sitting around just as farmers hang around a country store and talk. There was a gossipy air of snugness about the little place that made one think it belonged in the midst of a well fed garrison and not in a prison camp. There was a counter behind which stood a German salesman, assisted by a French interpreter, and this little canteen bore no relation whatever to the system of company stores in vogue in the mining camps of America. In other words, it was run to give the men the best possible for their money.
On a blackboard I saw chalked different prices, 10 Cigarettes for 10 Pfg., which is almost five for a cent. I saw sponges strung on a string, which convinced me that the men in the camp were doubly anxious to keep clean. I was reminded of Coney Island by a little griddle of sizzling hot dogs, which could be bought for two cents each. I saw a basket full of segments of thick German wurst, 5 cents for a piece 2 inches in diameter and 4 inches long. They even sold butter in that little store ½ lb. for 12 cents, cheaper than you can get it in America. Sides of bacon, hams and long dangling wurst hung from the ceiling, and near them a wooden aeroplane tried to fly, while below on the floor, a pair of wooden shoes waited the owner who had the necessary 45 cents. On a table in a corner I saw where the games came from, checkers and cards, absurdly cheap. They even sold beer. I remarked on this.
"It's not an intoxicating beer," the Captain explained. "It's what we call in Germany--Health Beer. It is used in cases of illness when a doctor wants to give a patient strength."
It was after we had inspected a little room which one of the French soldiers had converted into a barber shop, where one might be shaved for 10 centimes, and where if one had 50 centimes he might be tempted by a sign that read, "Latest Parisian Haircut here"; it was after we had talked with the sparkling-eyed barber, happy these days--was not money plentiful among the prisoners?--that we came upon the sculptor.