Exiled in Germany
In Munich Before and After the War

Exiled in Germany.

In Munich Before and After the War.

By Mrs. Fanny E. Rieck, Coff’s Harbour.

In 1913 my late husband, Mr. Herman Rieck (formerly of Brisbane, Toowoomba, and Coff’s Harbour, N.S.W.), and I made a visit to England and the Continent, a sea journey having been recommended for my husband, and we were overtaken by the war in Bavaria in 1914. It had been our ambition to possess a little cottage near the “Artists’ City,” the University of Munich, in Bavaria, the highest city in Europe, close to the snow-crowned Alp Mountains, where the lager beer is so good, the scenery and climate so delightful, and the people so jolly, and from where we could run down to Italy in a few hours’ travelling and live there during the coldest winter months.

Our ambition was realised. We found a pretty little home with two acres of land in a suburb near Munich, from where we could enjoy the advantages of that fine city, and the healthy, fresh, high, invigorating air of the country. We were pleased to have a home again. Our old friends welcomed, but commiserated us. Things were so changed during the last few years, a dark shadow seemed to overhang the country, and life had become so dear, &c. Did we not anticipate trouble in Europe? We didn’t. The trouble came, however, fast enough. We set up house in Deisenhofen in the Spring of 1914. The war broke out in August, a few months later, and as British subjects we were detained as prisoners of war, and had great difficulty to avoid being placed behind barbed wire in Ruheleben, near Berlin. But fortune favoured us; we were only detained within boundaries, treated as refugees, and allowed to live in our home, but ordered to appear before the local Mayor and sign our names twice daily for some time. Our neighbours looked askance at us, and treated us like spies. Illiterate people gave us the “cold shoulder” (if later it had been the cold shoulder of mutton we should have been thankful), and we were subjected to many petty annoyances. Intelligent, good, kind friends stood firmly by us through all these years of trouble, trials, sorrow, and starvation, which soon followed the blockade. The Mayor and Government officials were always fair and considerate to us. We were rationed, and got just as much, and just as little, as our neighbours.

Did we really suffer deprivation, cold, and starvation? We certainly did. Frogs, snails, a cat, or a dog, a snake, or a paddymelon would have been a great delicacy sometimes. One “Caterer to the King” (Ludwig), in a poultry, fish, and game shop, was punished for openly selling cats and dogs, dressed as game, indicating them as hares and rabbits. His excuse was that the purchasers knew what they were buying to eat! Imagine Australians, from this land of plenty and luxury, suffering torture for the want of bread, meat, tea, and all the necessities of life, and to hear the bitter cry of children, “Mummy, I am so hungry, I want bread,” without being able to help one another!

We began to look like skeletons when we had a weekly ration of 2oz. of meat (waiting our turn in a long queue for that), 6lb. of black bread, 1oz. of fat, and a little coarse barley meal for two people. We found out the value of our garden for vegetables and fruit, and also for goats, fowls, and geese; but it was very difficult to get food for them. In spring, before any vegetables could grow, and when potatoes were old and bad, we felt it keenly. We really suffered great privations during the blockade, and were worse off after the Armistice, and had severe losses by the falling and final collapse of the mark. Our good Australian money, previously worth 20 marks for 20 shillings, was changed into valueless paper money, and everything became exorbitantly dear. Luckily for us Bavaria was the quietest country, and far away from the turmoil and scene of combat. We kept very quiet, and were never molested. Every one had to work hard to keep himself alive.

We could not leave Munich for Australia, England, America, or Switzerland, as we wished to do after the Armistice, as our money was almost valueless, and also we were not allowed to take it out of the country if we went. When Major Doctor Douglas, of the English Red Cross, came to Bavaria to collect the English prisoners of war (soldiers), he visited us, and gave us a parcel of biscuits, flour, tea, sugar, and rice. Such luxuries we had not tasted for years. It was quite a godsend. He advised us to get away from that country anywhere, but it was then midwinter. We tried our utmost, but could not sell out and travel without sufficient means to live. Switzerland and Holland were crowded out and full of refugees. The blockade was still kept up.

Since the Treaty of Versailles Germany has been going from bad to worse. Profiteering is the rage and causes the high price of food, clothing, and other necessities. During the war all food was portioned out to rich and poor alike by a regular system. After the Armistice this system soon stopped, and now the present Government has no control over prices, which are regulated by the rise and fall of the mark, and are most exorbitant. The haunting fear of starvation and cold is always before them. They suffer acutely, but with iron will they work and endure, and grasp at a straw to keep themselves alive a little longer. It is remarkable how they can exist on such an infinitesimal portion of substantial food. There is practically no butter, fat, or milk obtainable, except for the rich. Fish is rare, and milk is reserved for babies. Railway fares are so dear that few can now afford to go out in the forests surrounding Munich to gather the wild fruits, strawberries, raspberries, black and heather berries, and the many kinds of mushrooms, and fungi, which contain so much nutriment, and are consumed and also dried in enormous quantities in the autumn for winter use. The workless poor, the old people, the small pensioned, the invalids, and the middle class with children suffer most. Only those who have suffered the same can sympathise with them. I would not be a kind-hearted British Australian woman if I did not have pity for them.

During the winter of 1921, on March 3, at 4 o’clock a.m., my husband and I were awakened by the cry of “Fire.” Our little cottage, formerly a farm homestead, with stables and outbuildings, was all ablaze. The tiles were already falling down, and the poultry, geese, and goats were already roasted to death. A young man with wife and baby living above us were cut off from the stairs, and had to jump from the upper window into the garden. We rushed outside half dressed, but rescued our clothes and papers. Willing hands aided the fire brigade and saved the furniture, and it was placed in a vacant storeroom opposite, while we went to live in an attic room till our cottage could be rebuilt and put in order. In less than two months’ time the house and storeroom opposite our place were burnt down, and all our furniture, clothes, books, trunks, and my husband’s manuscript, and stories (a collection of a lifetime) were eaten up by the flames. My husband had borne our many sufferings and privations bravely, and his courage and humour had never deserted him but the loss of all his favourite relics, house, stock, and financial worry proved such a shock to him that he could not regain his usual vigour. In July the same year, he suffered a stroke, and lingered till August, when he died, highly respected and deeply regretted by all, in his 85th year, and was buried in the little cemetery of Deisenhofen, at the foot of the great Alp Mountains.

Revolution in Munich.

At last the long-expected crash came with overwhelming rapidity. All the country was paralysed with the shock. The soldiers returned from all parts of the world by train, by water, on horseback, by vehicle, and on foot, tired, disheviled, hungry, exhausted, discouraged, and heavy-hearted. They turned with dispirited steps to their homes, where there was only anguish, misery, weeping, and empty cupboards. How often had we heard the phrase amongst the women, “Better the end with horror than a continual terror without end.” The fearful calamity had fallen on them. There was no hope of a better peace, but the terrible calamity to the conquered was crushing.

The Mayor was deluged with petitions for more food for the returned soldiers. But whence would it come? Next must the horses be brought under? All stables were requisitioned, and fodder provided by the farmers. All work was done methodically by men appointed in the villages. Stories were told in Munich of soldiers dismounting from their horses, giving them carelessly to children, who walked about for hours trying to find fodder and warm stables for the poor, tired, jaded animals, whilst their heartless riders went drinking, plunging at once into debauchery without sense or reason. All began slowly to realise the crushing calamity, and to face the inevitable.

The Socialists, or Communists, took the reins of government. Tradesmen and labourers were placed in all Government establishments over their former officials, who were compelled to obey their orders. A revolution commenced in and around the city, and soon a reign of terror prevailed. There was blood and anarchy, plunder, murder, robbery, and debauchery. There was no safety for life or property. The Red Guards broke into banks, post offices, and mercantile houses for loot and plunder. Firing off guns and revolvers in the streets through the great plate glass windows, and on unoffending citizens, was an every day and night pastime. They paid or distributed money amongst themselves, went with motor cars plundering houses in the suburbs, eating and drinking at hotels and cafés without paying. They resided in the finest houses and convents, and made raids in all directions. A strong Government to keep peace and order could not be formed with sufficient military assistance to back them. So many were demoralised by life in the trenches and the long cruel war. It took time for these bad elements to be suppressed. In Munich 10 innocent citizens, including a countess, were taken as hostages. They were imprisoned in a cellar somewhere in the neighbourhood of the King’s Palace, and treated most brutally. They were several times taken outside in the yard, one or two shot, and the others reincarcerated in the cellar. Of course frantic efforts were made to help the victims, but the people were terrorised, and the newspapers dared not print the dreadful state of affairs. I myself never learned the fate of these innocent, unfortunate victims, and was too worried as to our own future to inquire, and it would have been dangerous, as there were bad elements everywhere.

Meanwhile a cordon of the Red Guards were advancing on to our village, which was three hours’ walk out of Munich. They first went to a big estate one night; many from our village were in league with them. They plundered the mansion, taking money, food, wine, wheat, potatoes, flour, and everything they could lay hands on; even the cows were milked out. The overseer was taken into captivity, and released after some days. It was a horrible time. People kept in their houses, conversed in whispers. Many passed sleepless nights, and prayers were offered up for peace and safety. Next it was reported with bated breath that the Reds were advancing in force on our village. Ten of the best citizens of our village, Deisenhofen, were to be taken and imprisoned as hostages, including a good old doctor, the mayor and alderman, the Roman Catholic priest, one woman, and several prominent citizens. But fortunately for them a stronger Government was getting the upper hand in Munich. A military force, mostly Westphalians, arrived, which constituted the “White Guard.” These made short work of the miscreants. Six of the Red Guards were placed against a wall and shot down without mercy by the White Guards. Then came a house-to-house search in the village. Many fled to the adjacent forests. Others were tried and sentenced, and some banished, but gradually law and order prevailed.