A German deserter's war experience. Anonymous

spoken exactly what was in our minds. The bitter feeling was general, but we would not and could not commit any imprudent action. We had learned enough in those few days of the war to know that war brutalizes and that brutal force can no longer distinguish right from wrong; and with that force we had to reckon.

      Meanwhile the time had come to march on. Before that we had to drink our coffee and arrange our baggage. When we were ready to march the captain gave us a speech in which he referred to the insubordination of the night before. "I take it," he said, "that it was the result of your stupidity. For if I were not convinced of that I should send you all before a court-martial, and all of you would be made unhappy for the rest of your lives. But in future," he continued after a short reflection, "I will draw the reins so tightly that incidents like these can never happen again, and the devil must be in it if I can not master you. An order is an order, even if one imagines himself too tired."

      We joined the mortar battery again, and continued our march. The country we were passing was rather dreary and monotonous so that that part of our march offered few interesting changes. The few tiny villages we came through were all abandoned by their inhabitants, and the poverty-stricken dwellings were mostly devastated. However, we met long lines of refugees. These people had as a rule fled with the French army, and were returning now, only to find their homes destroyed by the brutal hand of war. After a lengthy march broken by rests and bivouacs we neared the fairly large village of Sugny on the Belgo-French frontier just inside Belgian territory.

      It was about noon, and though the steadily increasing thunder of guns pointed to the development of another battle, we hoped to be able to stay at the place during the night. We entered it towards one o'clock, and were again quartered in a large barn. Most of the soldiers refused the food from the field-kitchen, and "requisitioned" eggs, chicken, geese, and even small pigs, and soon general cooking was in full swing. Everywhere the pots were steaming. Unfortunately most had taken the animals and foodstuffs from the inhabitants without paying for them.

      Several soldiers arrived with barrels and bottles of wine, which were at once beheaded and emptied in spite of the warnings and admonitions of the wiser amongst us. It naturally followed that several sergeants and men were soon almost helplessly drunk. The proprietor of "our" barn had three medium-sized pigs left. One of those intoxicated sergeants attempted to kill one of the pigs with a blunt pocket-knife. He had tormented the poor beast almost to death when some sober soldiers caught him in the act. The animal was killed by a shot through the head, and the sergeant had to go to sleep at once. But that was only one incident of many, and not at all the worst one. The inhabitants of Sugny had to suffer much from the drunkenness of our men. The open and secret plundering of gardens, stables and houses was quite a common thing, and as the soldiers were practically left to do what they pleased, no matter what happened or how many complaints were made, matters could naturally not improve.

      The people of Sugny were to be pitied. First they had been plundered by the flying French soldiers, the allies of the Belgians, who had taken along with them everything they could get together in a hurry, and now the Germans were acting in no better way.

      In a family of seven we were told that the French had taken away all the bread and meat. They had gone through all the cupboards and shelves, and had even stolen the gold watches belonging to the daughters of the house. These and similar tales we heard from several families of the place, and what at first we did not think possible on our side we now beheld with our own eyes—even our well-trained soldiers robbed, pillaged, and stole. War makes no difference between friend and foe.

      The roaring of the guns, which could be heard very distinctly, kept the inhabitants in constant fear and excitement, so that we were finally quite able to understand why those people prayed to God to be so kind as to give victory to the Germans. An old inn-keeper explained to me in fairly fluent German: "You see it is not that we are for Germany. Heaven forbid! We are just Belgians and are so accustomed to it that we would rather remain Belgians to the end of our lives. But if the Germans had to retreat now, the French would come again and our village would again become the scene of battle. The little left to us would then be a prey to the flames. Therefore the Germans must win." And then he began praying again.

      That part of the country had twice harbored the French, and now we Germans were there. That the population suffered from want and hunger was not to be wondered at, and often we divided our rations with the severely tried people. Myself and two mates had given our "iron ration" (preserved meat and vegetables and a bag of biscuits) to a woman "blessed" with eight children. At the call we could not show our "iron one," so we each of us had to mount guard twice as a punishment for that feeble proof of our charity. Our half-file leader, Lieutenant Spahn, expressed the opinion that pity was idiocy, and if the woman had eight children it was her own concern. Then he concluded literally with great emphasis, "In war everybody is his own nearest neighbor, even if all around us die in a ditch."

      Another soldier got fourteen days' close confinement. He was on his way with bread for a hungry poor family, and had in his arms six of those little army loaves which he had begged from the soldiers. He was met by that same Lieutenant Spahn who was in company of some sergeants. When Spahn asked him where he was taking the bread the sapper replied that he was on his way to a poor family that was really starving. The lieutenant then ordered him to take the bread immediately to the company. Thereupon he overwhelmed the soldier with all the "military" expressions he could think of, like, "Are you mad?" "Donkey!" "Silly ass?" "Duffer!" "Idiot!" etc. When the soldier showed nevertheless no sign of confusion, but started to proceed on his way, the lieutenant roared out the order again, whereupon the soldier turned round, threw the bread before the feet of Lieutenant Spahn, and said quietly: "The duffers and idiots have to shed their blood to preserve also your junker family from the misery that has been brought upon this poor population."

      That the sapper got only two weeks of close confinement for "unmannerly conduct towards a superior" with aggravating circumstances, was a wonder; he had indeed got off cheaply.

      According to martial law he had to work off his punishment in the following manner: When his company went to rest in the evening, or after a fight or a march, the man had to report himself every day for two weeks at the local or camp guard. While the company was resting and the men could move about freely, he had to be in the guard room which he could only leave to do his needs, and then only by permission of the sergeant on guard, and in company of a soldier belonging to the guard. He was not allowed to smoke or read or converse or speak, received his rations from the guard, and had to stay in the guard-room until his company marched off. Besides that he was tied to a tree or some other object for fully two hours every day. He was fettered with ropes and had to spend those two hours standing, even if he had marched 30 miles or had risked his life in a fight for the same "Fatherland" that bound him in fetters.

      The resentment continued to grow and, in consequence of the many severe punishments that were inflicted, had reached such a height that most soldiers refused to fetter their comrades. I, too, refused, and when I continued my refusals in spite of repeated orders I was likewise condemned to two weeks of close confinement as an "entirely impenitent sinner," for "not obeying an order given" and for "persistent disobedience."