I have already stated that the camp at Munden was situated directly on the banks of the river Weser, on the other side of which ran a railway line, along which troops both going and coming could often be seen. On one occasion some of these troops, thinking they would indulge in a little sport, began firing at the camp from the train, which ran at that spot up a very steep gradient, and a bullet actually passed through a window of one of the rooms and lodged itself in the plaster of the wall opposite. Fortunately for the prisoners, no one was hit; but that was not the fault of the Boches. Firing at prison camps containing helpless prisoners would certainly appeal to the humour of the German mind. Of course complaints were made to the commandant, but, as usual, nothing came of them.
Continual small drafts of prisoners were always arriving at the camp, accompanied by a German officer and guard. One of these officers, seeing a group of British seated in the eating-hall, came up very politely and expressed his sorrow at seeing them there, but told them to cheer up, as the war would soon be over. As a matter of fact he said, “We shall be in London by six weeks from now.” Note that this remark was made in February 1915! He also went on to say that London was already partially destroyed. He was not bragging, and seemed quite a decent sort of chap; but he really thought that what he said was true. It is the most extraordinary thing how the German Government, in conjunction with their press, have been able to make their people believe any lie, even to the extent that London was in flames and the populace living on rats, and that seaports such as Southampton and Portsmouth were destroyed by gunfire from their fleet. This latter was told to me in all faith at the fortress of Ingolstadt in 1916.
Great excitement was one day caused amongst us at Munden owing to the fact that a Russian orderly had been seen carrying from the canteen a plate on which two fried eggs sat in state. He had not proceeded fifty yards before he was surrounded by officers, quite off their heads at the sight of two eggs, inquiring as to where he got them, if there were any more, and how much he would take for them, officers bidding twenty or thirty marks for the eggs. But, unfortunately, the orderly was true to his trust. It appeared that they had been procured as a special mark of favour from the commandant to a Russian general who was suffering from stomach trouble, and who had not been able to eat anything solid for a very long time. Of course every one rushed to the canteen to order eggs, but there was nothing doing, the sight of the eggs lingering in our memories as a beautiful dream.