LANDISS OF THE EXILES.

Hokitika Guardian, 23 March 1918, Page 4

LANDISS OF THE EXILES.

— TEARS AND CHEERS

BOSTON SCENES

London, Jan io The 632 British prisoners from Germany—27 officers, 235 soldiers, and 370 civilians—who arrived in three Dutch ships on Saturday night, were yesterday landed at Boston. Lincolnshire. “Arewedown -hearted ? —No-o-o !” The words of the British war slogan rang across the cold waters of the Witliam this morning as the last of the exiles were taken on board the tehders from the ships which have brought them from Holland. Then a waving of handkerchiefs from the women who have tended outwounded and sick on their four days’ sea voyage and a faint “Good-by-e-e ” as the tenders slowly rteamed up the river to Boston Dock. All the way up the narrow river the banks and mudflats were held by fen land folk. Women braved the keen, cold air to wave a greeting to the passing boats, running and cheering, even dancing, as they ran, along the mudflats. At the dockhead a company oi soldiers cheered md sang •* Tipperary,” The exiies on the deck in their prison suit- of black witu a broad khaki band down the side, 1 sang too, such as could for emotion. “ I cannot sing it,” said one Mons hero, who sang it last as he gaily marched through the streets of Boulogne in August 1914. “It is so long since I sang that I don’t know my own voice. We have had to keep so long silent.” All the arrangements made at the dock were carried out in the new smart military fashion, plenty of hot food and attention for the sick, guides and guards everywhere. But no one went on to the dock without a military pass. Mr Royal and Mr Woodthorpe, who have kept the Boston fishermen alive with 9,500 boxes of food, organising a local fund of ,£3,100 for the purpose, thought it a bit hard.” So did the wives and children of the 16 fishermen who returned to day. But they were able to stand in the narrow lane leading to the dock gates and see their men pass into the Seamen’s Institute to be examined. And how the children cheered and the women wept to see those fine big men again who were so treacherously taken while fishing three’and a half years ago!

. skipper’s WEECOiIE. Skipper Parker, of the steam trawler Wigtoft, was there. Seeing him, a girl in a green wool cap holding tightly a smaller child broke all bounds and ran to hug and be hugged by her father again. Skipper Parker swallowed a very big lump in his throat as lie went into the Seamen’s Institute.

It was, a strange crowd which passed into that institute. One could read the names on the kitbags they carried on their shoulders. There were good English and Irish men from Sunderland and Cork, and others whose faces and names were less British than their nationalit}’. I was glad to see one bright little clean-shaven face with a merry twinkle among so many careworn men. His kitbag said “ Giles, Yeovil.” The guard on the gate had a word with him. “ You’re looking fine,” said the guard. ■ “ I haven’t been very grand until : lately,” said the little man, “when i they began to fuss us up a bit.” i He turned and looked up at the | clear blue sky and his nostrils ex- ‘ panded. “ The smell of the 'English air,” said he, “has done me more good than all they have done for me.” Giles was in a racingstable when the war broke out. The men with the cameras at the dock gates had a busy time when the fishermen came out. Here was a wife with her four children ; the skipper went offcanying one while | two hung to his coat and his wifeo bore off the youngest. Even then j there were people who wanted to 1 shake his hand. Thanks to their ! parcels the men looked fit, though j Walkerley, mate of the Julia, had lost at least 4 of the 16 stone which j he weighed when he last saw Boston Stump.

GUARDING THE SOLDIERS All the soldier exiles were carefully kept within the dock until their trains went. Among the officers were flying men, one Australian with his leather coat still shot-torn, and others without limbs.

They were all anxious to know the condition of things in England, and especially as to the moral of . the people. They had heard a good deal about the food situation and . were relieved to find it not so bad : as painted. j “I am off to see the ‘Boston | Stump,’ ” Said ex-Couucillor Butter* I worth, of Manchester, as soon as he ! escaped from the examination ; room, and off he went with his son, ! who had been waiting three days, ' to' see Boston’s beautiful church (Boston Stump” as sailors call it) ; and talk over the three past years j in its peaceful precincts.

Relatives ol a wounded officer here for three days werfi less fortunate. Father, mother, and two sisters vainly begged permission to enter the docks. “At least one of the family might,” they suggested, “be allowed to take a message.” They had to be content with a distant view of the sadly shattered lad across two sets of lines at the railway station and a few hastily flung messages. For four hours lie had been within a few hundred yards of them, but on the other side of the wall. It was tantalising, but at least they were able to find out the hospital to which he was going.

CASEMENT’S BADGES. F. Gale, chief engineer of a Boston steam trawler captured at the outbreak of war, was sitting overall open fire in his cottage on the sea bank this afternoon. “It is,” he said, “the first fire I have seen for 3I years.” We had a long chat about his captivity while his wife quietly busied herself with the kettle and the teacups. Fie showed me one of Casement’s shamrocks, the little green badge of dishonour which, if a man would wear it?,'brought him unlimited food. “That was given to me,” he said, “by a Dublin Fusilier at a time when we were scraping up even- crumb to keep ourselves alive, so that is what he thought of Casement.”

Then he told me the old bad story of Sennelager Camp, that living hell, and of Bach, the commandant, who should be hanged in public if ever he is caught. He spoke of those 47 hours when Bach drove the prisoners out of the barracks and up to a rain-swept open field, where they wandered for two days and two nights without food or shelter. English swine,” said Bach, “we will feed you from the swill tub.”

“It is a curious ' tiling,” said Engineer Gale this afternoon, “ I heard that said, and six days ago I saw a German soldier searching our swill tub at Ruhleben for food and grease and bits of meat and crusts ol bread to add to his ration. We have often seen them. We have seen German workmen bringing timber into Ruhleben, take a spoon out of their pockets and suck the greasy water in the swill tub.”

Ruhleben has left ■ its mark on Gale, as it lias on all the men who lauded to-day, but Sennelager has left its brand on liis soul.

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