FOR "DADDY," AND TO

A FRIEND,

STILL LANGUISHING IN RUHLEBEN, TO
WHOM I OWE MY LIFE

PRISONER'S NOTE

It was whilst suffering the agonies of solitary confinement in the
military prison of Wesel that I first decided to record my experiences
so that readers might be able to glean some idea of the inner workings
and the treatment meted out to our unfortunate compatriots who were
travelling in Germany at the outbreak of war and who have since been
interned.

From the moment of my decision I gathered all the information possible,
determining at the first opportunity to escape to the Old Country. As
will be seen I have to a degree been successful.

Owing to the grossly inaccurate and highly coloured reports which have
been circulated from time to time regarding the life and treatment of
prisoners of war, the story has been set out in a plain unvarnished
form. There are no exaggerations whatever. Much of the most revolting
detail has been eliminated for the simple reason that they are
unprintable.

In nearly every instance names have been suppressed. Only initials have
been indicated, but sufficient description is attached to enable
personal friends of those who are still so unfortunate as to be
incarcerated to identify them and their present situation. Likewise, in
the cases where I received kind treatment from Germans, initials only
have been introduced, since the publication of their names would only
serve to bring punishment upon them.

H.C.M.

[Illustration: Statutory Declaration]

CHRONICLER'S NOTE

On Friday afternoon, July 31, 1914, I shook hands in farewell with my
friend Henry C. Mahoney. He was going to Warsaw and was full of
enthusiasm concerning the new task which was to occupy him for at least
three months. Owing to his exceptional skill and knowledge, practical as
well as theoretical, of photography in all its varied branches, he had
been offered, and had accepted an important appointment abroad in
connection with this craft--one which made a profound appeal to him.
Despite the stormy outlook in the diplomatic world he felt convinced
that he would be able to squeeze through in the nick of time.

Although he promised to keep me well informed of his movements months
passed in silence. Then some ugly and ominous rumours came to hand to
the effect that he had been arrested as a spy in Germany, had been
secretly tried and had been shot. I did not attach any credence to these