Captivity in War during the Twentieth Century: The Forgotten Diplomatic Role of Transnational Actors 3030650944, 9783030650940

Table of contents :
Contents
List of Contributors
1 The Diplomatic Role of Transnational Actors in Wartime Captivity
Introduction: The Beginnings of an International Interest in War Captives
Transnational Actors and Wartime Captivity in the Twentieth Century
Structure and Contents
Areas for Further Research
References
Literature
2 “Any Unfavourable Condition or Untoward Circumstance Will Receive Immediate Attention”: American Consuls’ Visits to British Colonial Internment Camps of the Great War
The Protecting Powers’ Representatives
American Consuls’ Camp Visits in British Colonies
Reports and Complaints
Conclusion
References
3 “Heraus mit unseren Gefangenen!” The German Home Front and the International Campaign for Prisoner of War Repatriation, 1918–1919
Wartime Prisoner Advocacy and the Repatriation Question
Prisoner Advocacy After the Treaty of Versailles
At Home and Abroad: Gaining the Support of the International Community
Seizing the Momentum: The Campaign for the “Moral Isolation” of France
Conclusions
References
4 An Uneasy Balance: International Relief Efforts in the Chaco War
Pre-war Activity: From the Red Cross to the Nansen Commission
Prisoners of War: From Local Relief Groups to International Aid
International Peace Conference: Repatriation Efforts
Conclusion: The Politics of Prisoners
References
5 Japanese Civilian Internees in New Caledonia: A Gap Between the Protecting Powers and the ICRC
Introduction
The 1929 Geneva Convention: Protecting Powers and the ICRC
New Caledonia in the Pacific War
New Caledonian Japanese Interned in Australia
The ICRC in the South West Pacific
The ICRC Visit to New Caledonia
Morel’s Report
The Aftermath
Conclusion
References
6 Japanese Prisoners of War, the American-Soviet Conflict, and the Role of Repatriated War Veterans in the Early Cold War in East Asia
MacArthur’s Rule of Japan
Japanese Prisoners of War During the Early Cold War
The Perceived Menace of Ideologized Veterans
Conclusion
References
7 The ICRC and Communist Captives During Vietnam’s American War
The ICRC as a “Neutral Intermediary”: Mandate and Mission
International Oversight on the Ground
Conclusion: A Paper Tiger or the “Conscience of the World”?
References
8 Biafra’s Captives: The “Oilmen Incident” and International Diplomacy in the Nigerian Civil War
The Capture of the Oilmen
Initial International Reactions to the Oilmen Incident
Reactions of the Western European Union
Italian Diplomacy
The Role of the Portuguese
The Release and Repatriation of the Oilmen
Conclusion
References
Index

Citation preview

Captivity in War during the Twentieth Century The Forgotten Diplomatic Role of Transnational Actors Edited by Marcel Berni · Tamara Cubito

Captivity in War during the Twentieth Century

Marcel Berni · Tamara Cubito Editors

Captivity in War during the Twentieth Century The Forgotten Diplomatic Role of Transnational Actors

Editors Marcel Berni Military Academy ETH Zurich Birmensdorf, Switzerland

Tamara Cubito Military Academy ETH Zurich Birmensdorf, Switzerland

ISBN 978-3-030-65094-0 ISBN 978-3-030-65095-7 (eBook) https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-65095-7 © The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland

We dedicate this book in loving memory to Prof. Arnold Krammer (1941–2018) who, on his last intercontinental journey, attended our conference on captivity in war, held in Bern, Switzerland, in March 2018. Goodbye, Arnold, and thank you for inspiring the next generations of historians studying wartime captivity. Your brilliant teaching, writing and, above all, generosity and true kindness will be sorely missed. May you rest in peace.

Contents

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The Diplomatic Role of Transnational Actors in Wartime Captivity Marcel Berni and Tamara Cubito “Any Unfavourable Condition or Untoward Circumstance Will Receive Immediate Attention”: American Consuls’ Visits to British Colonial Internment Camps of the Great War Tamara Cubito “Heraus mit unseren Gefangenen!” The German Home Front and the International Campaign for Prisoner of War Repatriation, 1918–1919 Brian K. Feltman An Uneasy Balance: International Relief Efforts in the Chaco War Robert Niebuhr Japanese Civilian Internees in New Caledonia: A Gap Between the Protecting Powers and the ICRC Rowena Ward

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Japanese Prisoners of War, the American-Soviet Conflict, and the Role of Repatriated War Veterans in the Early Cold War in East Asia Frank Jacob The ICRC and Communist Captives During Vietnam’s American War Marcel Berni Biafra’s Captives: The “Oilmen Incident” and International Diplomacy in the Nigerian Civil War Oluchukwu Ignatus Onianwa

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List of Contributors

Marcel Berni Swiss Military Academy, ETH Zurich, Birmensdorf, Switzerland Tamara Cubito Swiss Military Academy, ETH Zurich, Birmensdorf, Switzerland Brian K. Feltman Georgia Southern University, Statesboro, GA, USA Frank Jacob Nord University, Bodø, Norway Robert Niebuhr Arizona State University, Tempe, AZ, USA Oluchukwu Ignatus Onianwa University of Ibadan, Ibadan, Nigeria Rowena Ward University of Wollongong, Wollongong, Australia

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The Diplomatic Role of Transnational Actors in Wartime Captivity Marcel Berni and Tamara Cubito

Introduction: The Beginnings of an International Interest in War Captives Among the Austrian prisoners, some were terrified because someone had thought fit to tell them that the French, and especially the Zouaves [soldiers from French North Africa], were merciless demons. Some of them, indeed, when they arrived in Brescia and saw trees bordering a walk in the town, asked in all seriousness whether those were the trees from which they would be hanged. Several, on being shown kindness by French soldiers, repaid them in the strangest ways—poor blind, ignorant fellows! … However, for the most part, with very few exceptions, the feeling of the French toward their prisoners was nothing but goodwill; thus, some Austrian officers were permitted to keep their swords or sabres,

M. Berni (B) · T. Cubito Swiss Military Academy, ETH Zurich, Birmensdorf, Switzerland e-mail: [email protected] T. Cubito e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 M. Berni and T. Cubito (eds.), Captivity in War during the Twentieth Century, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-65095-7_1

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through the courtesy of French Army commanders. They were given the same food as the French officers, and their wounded were treated by the same doctors.… Many French soldiers shared their rations in a brotherly way with prisoners who were dying of hunger; others carried wounded men of the enemy army to field hospitals on their backs and gave them all sorts of care, showing remarkable devotion and profound sympathy.1

Henry Dunant’s vivid description of the merciful handling of Austrian captives by the French army during the Battle of Solferino on June 24, 1859 is captivating still today. Not only was this brutal military engagement in the Second Italian War of Independence arguably the last decisive battle in world history where soldiers on both sides fought under the personal command of their crowned heads, but it was also an important day in the life of the Genevan activist and adventurer. After the battle, Dunant composed a literary outline of his observations, and particularly its human toll: 29,000 Austrian, French and Piedmontese had been killed or wounded in only 15 hours of fighting.2 In a time in which armies employed more veterinarians to look after wounded horses than medical professionals to care for human casualties, Dunant’s observations struck a chord.3 His account soon became more than a mere description of the conduct and horrors of modern warfare, of interest only to a selected few. A Memory of Solferino heavily influenced the drafting of the Geneva Convention for the Amelioration of the Condition of the Wounded in Armies in the Field of 1864 when the Swiss Confederation, on Dunant’s initiative, had organised a diplomatic conference in Geneva in order to improve the care of wounded soldiers in future wars. Even before this first Geneva Convention was drawn up, simple humanitarian arrangements had been agreed upon, initially signed by 12 states, and Dunant had co-founded the International Standing Committee for Aid to Wounded Soldiers on a private charity basis, thus

1 Henry Dunant, A Memory of Solferino (Geneva: International Committee of the Red

Cross, 1959 [1862]), trans. American Red Cross, 50–52. 2 Karin M. Fierke, Diplomatic Interventions: Conflict and Change in a Globalizing World (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005), 49–50. Dunant himself did not witness the actual battle but was in Solferino during its aftermath. 3 See François Bugnion, Le Comité International de la Croix-Rouge et la protection des victimes de la guerre (Geneva: Comité international de la Croix-Rouge, 1994), 7.

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avoiding established state structures.4 Its main mission was the setting up of decentralised National Red Cross Societies which acted as neutral intermediaries during wars. However, these national aid societies became closely intertwined with established nation states and governments from the 1880s onwards.5 Dunant thus became an idealistic transnational pioneer, campaigning for public support during “a period of reform and philanthropy” in both the public and private sphere.6 Subsequently, the International Standing Committee for Aid to Wounded Soldiers became the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) in 1880. During the twentieth century, the ICRC significantly expanded its activities on a global scale and gained trust internationally. Most importantly for this book, the organisation increasingly became recognised for its role in taking care of prisoners of war and other persons captured during wars. Thus, when the First World War broke out in 1914, it was the ICRC that established an international prisoners of war agency within weeks of the beginning of the conflict and with the help of eventually thousands of volunteers. This agency was not only responsible for restoring contact between captives and their families but also for ensuring in many locations throughout the globe that prisoners were treated humanely.7 Thus, the ICRC had an impact on the lives of millions of soldiers and civilians less than four decades after its foundation. Hence, it would not be a stretch to argue that Solferino became a central milestone in the history of transnational actors in wartime, giving rise to a slowly expanding spirit of global activism and “a rise of non-state humanitarianism.”8

4 Fierke, Diplomatic Interventions, 49–50. 5 David P. Forsythe, The Humanitarians: The International Committee of the Red Cross

(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), 20–21. 6 Forsythe, The Humanitarians, 16. 7 Irène Hermann and Daniel Palmieri, “International Committee of the Red Cross,”

1914–1918 Online: International Encyclopedia of the First World War, accessed July 27, 2020, https://encyclopedia.1914-1918-online.net/article/international_committee_ of_the_red_cross. 8 Kevin O’Sullivan, Matthew Hilton, and Juliano Fiori, “Humanitarianisms in Context,” European Review of History 23, 1–2, 2016, 2.

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Transnational Actors and Wartime Captivity in the Twentieth Century It is precisely transnational actors like the ICRC and their influence on the treatment of war captives during the twentieth century that are at the heart of the present book. States were often unprepared, unwilling and weak in exercising control over captives or unable to do so. Against this backdrop, the increasing involvement of transnational organisations and individual actors became possible and perhaps even a necessity. We may first turn to the question of what exactly transnational actors are.9 Transnationalism is a much older phenomenon than many political scientists would lead us to believe. At its core, it refers to various processes, transfers, practices and circulations, be they cultural, economic, social or political, which extend beyond the boundaries of nation states. Transnational interactions have thus been taking place for hundreds of years and are not simply a product of “globalisation” in the twentieth century or the rise of the modern nation state. However, transnational connections have vastly increased and gained importance throughout the globe in the last century.10 It was in this period that organisations of contemporary global governance and interdependence, many of which still exist today, such as the International Labour Organization (1919), the Save the Children Fund (1919) or the League of Nations (1920), the forerunner of today’s United Nations Organisation, came into being. Although the founding of similar organisations transcending national boundaries can be traced back to the nineteenth century, the turn of the century marks a period when their agency, influence and interconnectedness increased. Just as the example of the ICRC shows, their influence often originated from informal and pragmatic activities, beneath the surface of great power politics. However, during the twentieth century they, in many instances, became key to the conduct of war and the supervision of a growing

9 In this introduction, the terms “transnational actor” and “transnational intermediary” are used interchangeably. 10 For more on this see for example Emily S. Rosenberg, ed. A World Connecting, 1870–1945, (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2012).

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legal regime. As Matthew Hilton and Rana Mitter argue, “war itself is an extreme force of coercive transnationalism.”11 This book purposely proposes a very loose definition of the term “transnational actor,” sharply diverging from fixed criteria and schemata established by social scientists.12 A broad understanding of the concept allows for the historical comparative study of transnational actors across a geographically and chronologically diverse spectrum. Only such a definition can bring together the wide range of case studies contained in this collection, which look at transnational diplomatic actors who were active in big and small wars, over a timespan of over fifty years, across all five continents, from New Caledonia to Bolivia. They focus on issues such as forms of negotiations, informal processes and transnational, transregional, translocal and transcultural practices in handling captives. Some of the protagonists looked at were affiliated with or dependent upon states, whereas others operated completely independently. Those with close connections with states nevertheless often acted autonomously in practice, whereas those who seemingly acted free from being part of state structures nevertheless had to rely on these in numerous instances. Many of the transnational actors operated in grey areas, but no matter what their allegiances were, their own initiative often proved utterly central. These disparities make it difficult to find an all-encompassing definition that fits all of these actors. Thus, we describe and outline, rather than narrowly define, what we mean by “transnational actors.” In the context of wartime captivity, we regard organisations such as the aforementioned ICRC as transnational actors. But at the same time, we also regard intermediaries of any nationality—often playing a diplomatic or 11 Matthew Hilton and Rana Mitter, “Introduction,” in Transnationalism and Contemporary Global History, eds. Matthew Hilton and Rana Mitter (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013), 25. 12 The literature on transnational actors in the social sciences is vast. As a starting point see Philip Alston, ed. Non-State Actors and Human Rights, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005); Anne Peters, Lucy Koechlin and Gretta Fenner Zinkernagel, eds. Non-State Actors as Standard Setters (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009); Thomas Risse, “Transnational Actors and World Politics,” in Handbook of International Relations, eds. Walter Carlsnaes, Thomas Risse and Beth A. Simmons (Sage: Thousand Oaks, 2013), 427–428; Andreas Kruck and Andrea Schneiker, “Introduction: Researching Non-State Actors in International Security—A Multitude of Challenges, a Plurality of Approaches,” in Researching Non-State Actors in International Security: Theory and Practice, eds. Andreas Kruck and Andrea Schneiker (Abingdon: Routledge, 2017), 4–5.

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humanitarian role in conflicts their own country of origin was not directly involved in—as transnational actors. Individuals, groups and organisations alike had much room to shape the space they operated in and chose to work together with firmly established structures often at their own will and where it suited them best. In some instances, however, they were hindered by these same structures, for example, if states were unwilling to accept or refused their interference. Transnational actors often flourished when they were allowed to operate fairly independently. Often, they made use of official, semi-official and private diplomacy alongside each other in order to improve the situation of war captives. Their own interests and agency, “autonomous from central government funding and control” were therefore vital in many instances.13 These transnational actors often fitted into a wider contemporary framework of international and sub-national human rights standards, customs and procedures developed in relation to the treatment of captives, be it military or civilian, during wars.14 The diplomatic actors looked at in the subsequent chapters had wide-ranging roles. Some, for instance, had the task of negotiating the release of captives, whereas others set themselves the aim of ensuring the good treatment of these latter while they were being held in captivity. What all these transnational intermediaries had in common was that they were trying to improve the circumstances the captives found themselves in. The intermediaries were often the only ones who made the captives and their plight visible and known to international audiences. Thus, they often initiated and inspired other activist efforts around the globe. Their initiatives could be an important factor in giving the captives’ relatives at home hope and assured them that their loved ones were being looked after and cared for. For many of the intermediaries, improving the situation of war captives seemed to be an honourable task. Particularly for those who saw themselves as neutral observers not directly involved in the conflict, it was a chance to make a meaningful and valuable contribution and prove their international importance and 13 Daphné Josselin and William Wallace, “Non-State Actors in World Politics: A Framework,” in Non-State Actors in World Politics, eds. Daphné Josselin and William Wallace (Basingstoke: Palgrave, 2001), 3. 14 Of course, transnational actors did not have to be agents of, or endorsed by a state. They could also act on a purely private basis or even be employed by private companies, partly pursuing their own interest. However, since there are no such examples in this book, perhaps bar the oil companies mentioned in Chapter 7, this topic and all the unique problems that come with it are not pursued further in this introduction.

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relevance instead of just being bystanders. As the chapters in this book will show, their roles and tasks were often only vaguely defined and they often therefore acted ad hoc. What most of the intermediaries looked at in this edited collection have in common is that they and their efforts largely remain understudied. Perhaps this was because many of them had always preferred to remain in the background, saw their work as purely humanitarian, and were not set on enhancing their own profile. Of course, if their efforts were enabled or encouraged by their governments or the organisations they worked for, this was, in some cases, publicised and used for propaganda purposes, but the individuals themselves usually remained in the background. Most of the transnational actors at the centre of the subsequent chapters had a direct impact on the fate of those captured by the belligerents—and where they failed, it was not usually due to any lack of trying. Allowing the involvement of diplomatic actors was always down to the captors. Intermediaries could pile on pressure in various forms demanding an improvement of conditions for captives or their release, but they always depended on the willingness of the captors to do so. Most parties involved tried to use these intermediaries for their own purposes and in their own interest. Thus, in a number of case studies in this book, belligerents were keen to stress that they gave the intermediaries access to captives and sold this as a sign of their humanity, sometimes in contrast to their opponents. Hence, not only the captives but also the diplomatic actors involved were often part of a propaganda war led by states that wanted to uphold a certain international image. In a way, belligerents thus hoped to gain international credence or even support at home and goodwill by allowing in impartial intermediaries. The transnational actors involved had to accept their role within these diplomatic and propagandistic constellations, whether they liked it or not. Untangling these webs and the interests at the heart of the various actors can be complicated. But at the same time, it can also enrich and enhance our understanding of international and transnational communities and interactions during wars. Thus, it is not surprising that these interdependencies are increasingly attracting the attention of researchers in many fields. Just as there has been increasing interest in transnationalism in recent years, research on wartime captivity has surged, with many studies focusing on aspects such as international law or prisoners and their experiences. Prisoners in wars have been “discovered” as forgotten victims who had often not even been mentioned in much of the traditional literature on wars. The twentieth century is thus an obvious period to study. In this

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century, which Zygmunt Bauman spoke of as “the century of camps,” more persons were made prisoners during wars than in any previous century.15 This also owed to changes in the practice of who was being captured, for instance the large-scale internment of enemy civilians. This surge in numbers was due to certain developments in warfare itself, but also other factors. There were, for instance, new inventions such as barbed wire and improved means of transport, which made possible in logistical terms the holding of large groups of captives. The quantitative increase of captivity in war reached its climax in the Second World War where— as Rüdiger Overmans has remarked—the German average soldier spent more time in captivity than on the battlefield.16 In recent years, numerous monographs as well as edited volumes on captivity in times of war have been published, most of them focusing on the two World Wars17 as well as the Korean and the Vietnam War.18

15 Christoph Jahr and Jens Thiel, “Prolegomena zu einer Geschichte der Lager: Eine Einführung,” in Lager vor Auschwitz: Gewalt und Integration im 20. Jahrhundert, eds. Christoph Jahr and Jens Thiel (Berlin: Metropol, 2013), 7–19. 16 Rüdiger Overmans, “‘In der Hand des Feindes:’ Geschichtsschreibung zur Kriegsgefangenschaft von der Antike bis zum Zweiten Weltkrieg,” in In der Hand des Feinds: Kriegsgefangenschaft von der Antike bis zum Zweiten Weltkrieg, ed. Rüdiger Overmans, (Köln: Böhlau, 1999), 20. 17 Mahon Murphy, Colonial Captivity During the First World War Internment and the Fall of the German Empire (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008); Karl Hack and Kevin Blackburn, eds., Forgotten Captives in Japanese-Occupied Asia (London: Routledge, 2011); Reinhard Nachtigal, Rußland und seine österreichisch-ungarischen Kriegsgefangenen 1914 bis 1918 (Remshalden: B.A. Greiner, 2003); Oliver Wilkinson, British Prisoners of War in First World War Germany (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017); Brian K. Feltman, The Stigma of Surrender: German Prisoners, British Captors, and Manhood in the Great War and Beyond (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2015); Bob Moore and Kent Fedorowich, The British Empire and its Italian Prisoners of War 1940–1947 (Basingstoke: Palgrave, 2002); Marianne Neerland Soleim, ed., Prisoners of War and Forced Labour: Histories of War and Occupation (Newcastle Upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2010); Panayi Panikos, Prisoners of Britain: German Civilian and Combatant Internees During the First World War (Oxford: Manchester University Press, 2018); Rafael Scheck, French Colonial Soldiers in German Captivity during World War II (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014); Heather Jones, Violence Against Prisoners of War in the First World War: Britain, France and Germany, 1914–1920 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011). 18 William C. Latham, Jr., Cold Days in Hell: American POWs in Korea (College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 2012); Charles Young, Name, Rank, and Serial Number: Exploiting Korean War POWs at Home and Abroad (New York: Oxford University Press, 2014); Stuart I. Rochester and Frederick T. Kiley, Honor Bound: American

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These new studies have provoked wider debates, expanded our knowledge of everyday life in camps,19 memories, issues of gender, archaeology and post-war stories,20 as well as violence against captives.21 Similar existing historical studies typically examine the treatment of enemy captives by studying one side in one conflict. Apart from some case studies—mostly from a national point of view—broader works have been written by legal historians who have, for instance, looked at the evolution of humanitarian treatment and conventions concerning captives.22 While transnational actors are frequently mentioned in these studies, they are rarely placed at the centre. This despite the fact that they undoubtedly played an essential role in the everyday experiences of captives during what some political

Prisoners of War in Southeast Asia, 1961–1973 (Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 1999); Michael J. Allen, Until the Last Man Comes Home: POWs, MIAs, and the Unending Vietnam War (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2009); Marcel Berni, Außer Gefecht: Leben, Leiden und Sterben “kommunistischer” Gefangener in Vietnams amerikanischem Krieg (Hamburg: Hamburger Edition, 2020). 19 Matthew Stibbe, British Civilian Internees in Germany: The Ruhleben Camp, 1914– 1918 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2008); Jeffrey L. Littlejohn and Charles Howard Ford, eds., “The Enemy Within Never Did Without:” German and Japanese Prisoners of War at Camp Huntsville, 1942–1945 (Huntsville: Texas Review Press, 2015). 20 Anne-Marie Pathé and Fabien Théofilakis, eds., Wartime Captivity in the 20th Century: Archives, Stories, Memories (New York: Berghahn Books, 2016); H. C. Mytum and Gillian Carr, eds., Prisoners of War: Archaeology, Memory, and Heritage of 19th- and 20th-Century Mass Internment (New York: Springer 2013); Bob Moore and Barbara Hately-Broad, Prisoners of War, Prisoners of Peace: Captivity, Homecoming and Memory in World War II (Oxford: Berg, 2005); Frank Biess, Homecomings: Returning POWs and the Legacies of Defeat in Postwar Germany (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2006); Christiane Wienand, Returning Memories: Former Prisoners of War in Divided and Reunited Germany (Rochester: Camden House, 2015). 21 Jones, Violence Against Prisoners of War; Geoffrey P. R. Wallace, Life and Death in Captivity: The Abuse of Prisoners during War (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2015); Berni, Außer Gefecht. 22 Joan Beaumont, Protecting Prisoners of War: 1939–1995, in Prisoners of War and Their Captors in World War II , eds. Bob Moore and Kent Fedorowich (Oxford: Bloomsbury 1996), 277–297; Jean Pictet, Humanitarian Law and the Protection of War Victims (Leyden, Geneva: A.W. Sijthoff/Henry-Dunant-Institute, 1975); Allan Rosas, The Legal Status of Prisoners of War: A Study in International Humanitarian Law Applicable in Armed Conflicts (Helsinki: Suomalainen tiedeakatemia, 1976); Howard S. Levie, Prisoners of War in International Armed Conflict (Newport: Naval War College Press, 1978); Emily Crawford, The Treatment of Combatants and Insurgents under the Law of Armed Conflict (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010); Nigel S. Rodley, The Treatment of Prisoners under International Law (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1987).

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scientists have called the “first transnational century.”23 For example, both the Quakers and the YMCA played a major role in the welfare of captives during the twentieth century, mainly in Europe. Additionally, some Catholic charities also contributed to the material welfare of captives. However, neither these intermediaries nor their roles in the care of prisoners in war have ever been clearly defined, perhaps because they were usually just one small puzzle piece in much broader diplomatic frameworks. The same issue of definition also applies to wartime captives. Given the often-controversial legal definitions of terms and concepts regarding prisoners in war, a note on the terms used in this book is necessary. Instead of focusing on just military prisoners in war,24 we purposely use the much broader term of “captives,” as it also includes civilians who fell into the hands of the belligerents. This term is thus better suited to acknowledging the numerous definitions of wartime prisoners over time and in different places and regions. Since the history of captivity in war is as old as war itself, the experiences of captives vary greatly from conflict to conflict and depend, among other things, on the historical as well as the cultural, social, political and economic context. As illustrated above, the mass taking of captives became widespread during the wars of the short twentieth century, from the beginning of the First World War to the end of the Cold War. In theory, throughout this period, practices concerning prisoners in war became increasingly tightly regulated with conventions, rules and laws. But in reality, many grey areas remained, which meant there was a lot of room for the involvement of various diplomatic intermediaries. One aim of this book is to challenge the notion that the issue of war captives was solely a matter of the state of the captive and the captors,25 as it instead shows that even 23 See David Mallet and Miriam J. Anderson, “Introduction: The Transnational Century,” in Transnational Actors in War and Peace: Militants, Activists and Corporations in World Politics, eds. David Mallet and Miriam J. Anderson (Washington, DC: Georgetown University Press, 2017), 17. 24 The term “prisoners in war” was coined by Sibylle Scheipers to signify that during wars, those taken prisoner could have many faces—that is, by no means were they only members of the military, for they could also be civilians or fall into grey areas in between. See Sibylle Scheipers, ed. Prisoners in War (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011). 25 See for example Stephanie Carvin, Prisoners of America’s Wars: From the Early Republic to Guantanamo (New York: Columbia University Press 2011); Lorien Foote and Daniel Krebs, eds., Useful Captives: The Role of POWs in American Military Conflicts (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 2021).

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in lesser-known conflicts, captivity quickly became of transnational relevance. By focusing on the intermediaries which stood between the two, this book aims to overcome these traditional historiographical approaches. By contrast, we look at the interplays and dynamics between transnational actors, states at war, individuals and captives. We aim to illustrate how the role of transnational actors and practices evolved in the twentieth century and what the phenomenon of mass captivity—coupled with often strong, existing transnational organisations and means of communications—could mean in practice, even in conflicts that have hitherto not received much scholarly attention.

Structure and Contents The individual chapters contained in this edited collection present new voices and entanglements between Europe, Asia, Latin America, Oceania and Africa. While these case studies are extremely diverse, they also demonstrate the extreme breath of diplomatic interventions in favour of captives taken in war. Much of the empirical material comes from hitherto understudied sources, from a variety of dispersed archives, periodicals and other primary sources. This book not only looks at the “obvious” cases such as the two World Wars, but also at lesser-known conflicts such as the Chaco War and the Nigerian Civil War. It illustrates how captives were often at the centre of transnational negotiations and how, without the involvement of various international actors, even maintaining links and communications between captives and their mother country would have been impossible. The structure of the present book is chronological, starting with the role of American consuls in British colonies during the Great War. Tamara Cubito introduces the function of protecting powers during wars—in this case, the neutral United States—in the care and oversight of enemy aliens and prisoners of war. The US consuls’ activities were in line with the longstanding tradition of protecting powers, which had its origins in the nineteenth century. In the twentieth century, protecting powers were made use of on a larger scale than ever before. Focusing on American consuls and vice-consuls acting for the Austro-Hungarian, Ottoman and German governments in the British colonies, Cubito highlights their considerable autonomy in distributing help and getting involved in their medical care. She also shows the importance of their mediating

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role between the internees and the local colonial authorities, investigating alleged mistreatment and documenting living conditions while those interned had to spend years of their lives in great uncertainty. In contrast to intermediaries looked at in later chapters which had a far more institutionalised role, these consuls were mainly “hobby diplomats.” Traditionally, histories of prisoners of war have been male-dominated. However, as Brian K. Feltman demonstrates in his chapter, women could also act as transnational actors. Looking at German women’s activism seeking to liberate their captured fathers, husbands and sons, Feltman shows how women’s organisations became paramount in the campaign to affect their release after the First World War when the Allies insisted on keeping their German prisoners after the armistice. This is the only example in this book where those campaigning for the prisoners were personally acquainted with them. By addressing their demands not only to the former enemy states who still kept German prisoners of war, but also to exponents of the Weimar Republic, these groups of mothers, wives, daughters, fiancées and sisters adopted what we would today call a transnational approach. Interestingly, the focus of their campaign was not the suffering of the captives still being held by the Allies, but the plight of their families at home. The women sent letters and complaints to important politicians not only in Europe but even in the United States, conducted public protests and put direct pressure on neutral countries such as Norway, Denmark or Sweden. Moreover, they also appealed to transnational, international and national organisations such as the ICRC, the YMCA or the American Women’s League. Eventually, this “women’s crusade” contributed to the prisoners’ repatriation. Feltman’s chapter demonstrates how intermediaries could successfully put on diplomatic pressure, even if they had no official function and did not see themselves as political activists. However, in order to achieve their aims, they had to work alongside established diplomatic channels and organisations and exploit formal and informal networks. From 1932 to 1935, Bolivia and Paraguay fought one of the bloodiest conflicts on South American soil during the twentieth century, over a territorial dispute in the Gran Chaco region. Today, often forgotten, the Guerra del Chaco not only pitted two of the poorest states in Latin America against each other, but also saw the involvement of diverse non-governmental groups, transnational relief organisations and welfare associations. Robert Niebuhr links these efforts to a tradition of transnational involvement which had predated the Chaco War. For instance, he

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looks at the League of Nations-led “Nansen Commission” which had created a formal process for repatriation as well as resettling persons displaced by the Great War, ironically in the Chaco region. Only a matter of years later, there was now again an opportunity for a variety of transnational actors to get involved. Many of them tried to make sure that captives were well cared for. Both sides desperately needed this help, since they had been overwhelmed looking after their captives. The Catholic Church, local Red Cross chapters, the Rotary Club, Argentine military authorities as well as private railway companies played an active role in prisoner of war negotiations. In this case, as in those examined in other chapters, the belligerents intended to use diplomatic and humanitarian intermediaries in order to appear in a positive light internationally, for example, through receiving positive reports on their camps. Niebuhr’s chapter also hints at a wider issue with many of the intermediaries, which probably applies to other chapters as well: they were not always unbiased and their true loyalties could be unclear, particularly if they were in some way linked with one of the belligerents. When the war was over, these intermediaries also organised the repatriation of the prisoners of war taken by both sides. Again, we observe how quickly this seemingly peripheral conflict became internationalised, not least because of the diplomatic actors involved in prisoner of war questions and captives’ rights. Niebuhr’s chapter demonstrates clearly that the repatriation of the captives would not have been possible, particularly in an orderly manner, if it had not been for official representatives working together with international intermediaries. Like Cubito, Rowena Ward looks at the role of protecting powers in the welfare of captives. However, in her example, this interplay did not result in better conditions for the captives. Ward focuses on Japanese civilians who were interned in the French colony of New Caledonia during the Second World War. Due to various political technicalities as well as practical problems, neither the ICRC nor the neutral protecting power really had a chance of getting involved during the war, despite clear historical precedents. When, after some years, they finally managed to arrange a visit to the camp in the French colony, it was only due to the initiative of the Australian ICRC representative, who simplified the process by partly bypassing official channels. Ward thus demonstrates how in certain wars, access to captives was a highly contested and very political issue. Here, we again observe that if the captors denied access, any attempts of diplomatic interference, even by neutral intermediaries, were nipped in the

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bud. The problem of accessibility is a persistent one: neither during the Second World War nor today are there any clear rules. Instead, situational dynamics interfere with the interests of the parties at war. In the subsequent chapter, Frank Jacob also looks at Japanese captives, in his case not during but in the aftermath of the Second World War. Many of the Japanese prisoners of war were still in Soviet and Chinese captivity at the beginning of the Cold War, and General Douglas MacArthur and his occupation government faced a transnational dilemma in their attempts to repatriate the military prisoners to Japan. Their role was a difficult one: on the one hand, the official aim was to ensure the safe return of the prisoners of war, but on the other hand, their repatriation was also considered a threat for Japan’s new administration, due to their apparent communist indoctrination. Here, we thus find a very contorted case of the winners of a war suddenly concerning themselves with the repatriation of their former enemies, now in the hands of former allies from whom they were now estranged. The repatriation of captives was often a very complicated issue which could end in frustration for the negotiators. If the captors do not want to budge, there is very little that can be achieved by those negotiating in favour of captives. After the Second World War, military confrontations between the Cold War superpowers no longer took take place directly. Hence, the global South became the battlefield of the Cold War. The longest hot war took place in Southeast Asia where communist North Vietnam, supported by the People’s Republic of China and the Soviet Union, defeated the South, reinforced by a western coalition, in a bloody ten-year guerrilla war. Whereas North Vietnam did not allow for prison visits by the ICRC, South Vietnam permitted the Committee to inspect at least some of its camps for captives. Marcel Berni focuses on the criticism by Amnesty International and the ICRC, the latter explicitly defining its role as a “neutral intermediary,” to show that the humane treatment of “communist” captives was anything but a forgone conclusion. Like Ward, Berni highlights the limitations of the ICRC on the ground and hence shows that the “Good Samaritan” was not able to achieve as much as it would have liked in improving conditions for captives in South Vietnam. In the end, the representatives of the Committee were mostly dependent on local authorities’ cooperation in order to undertake visits to camps and detention centres. Berni’s chapter also points out that throughout the twentieth century, legal definitions referring to those taken captives

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became increasingly important, and how they were labelled had a decisive impact on their treatment. It could thus become increasingly difficult for intermediaries to visit the imprisoned and get hold of accurate information on them, since military and civilian authorities could hide behind legal definitions and terms. Hence, more international recognition and more detailed international laws did not necessarily mean that captives were looked after better—often, quite the opposite was true. Another hot conflict in the Cold War period broke out in West Africa in the late 1960s. In the Nigerian Civil War, the Nigerian government fought the secessionist Republic of Biafra in a brutal two-and-a-halfyear conflict, on which the West African state’s future depended. In his chapter, Onianwa Oluchuchukwu Ignatus looks at the capture of eighteen western oil workers by Biafran troops, which led to an international outcry, followed by an extensive negotiation process for their release. The diplomatic back and forth saw the involvement of important transnational players such as the Vatican, Catholic missionary orders, European diplomats, African presidents, the Western European Union and private oil companies. Despite many officials getting involved, this chapter again shows how much the personality and personal contact of the intermediaries involved could matter. Oluchuchukwu Ignatus argues that the international repercussions of this “oilmen incident” and the eventual release of the captives essentially weakened Biafra’s claim to sovereignty rather than strengthening it, as the Biafrans had hoped. The chapter further illustrates that intermediaries always operated within an international framework characterised by a certain balance of power, as well as indicating what this often-fragile structure looked like and its significance for the negotiations led by diplomatic intermediaries.

Areas for Further Research As diverse as the case studies in this volume may be, there are areas and aspects this book inevitably cannot address. Thus, there remain many avenues for further research on the topic of diplomatic actors and wartime captivity. Although this subchapter may run the risk to be seen as a hostage to fortune, we would like to highlight four main areas in which we believe future research would be particularly fruitful and significantly feed our understanding of the role diplomatic intermediaries played in negotiations and contributing to the humane treatment of wartime captives. All four areas pointed out here have to be based on empirical

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case studies like the ones contained in this volume. Unless they have such research as their basis, it will be impossible to expand upon these much broader themes. Firstly, it is worth studying the broader global connections and the relationships between the various intermediaries, that is to say, their interdependencies, the competition between them and how they have been collaborating with each other. This is of particular interest considering that for many organisations, mediation and ensuring the humane treatment of captives in war has become a business. Many have become professionalised charities that depend on donations and have to publicise their impact in order to remain financially viable. Thus, to be the first organisation to visit a large detention camp and report about it to the whole world can make a great difference; but this also means that similar organisations have to be kept in check. At the same time, many of these organisations pursue similar interests, have the same humanitarian ideals and can achieve much from working together. For nation states who see themselves as “traditional” negotiators, a lot of prestige is attached to them concluding successful negotiations. Particularly for smaller countries like Switzerland, this remains an area of expertise for which they are internationally well-known—a renown which they would like to retain. In order to do so, they often have to work together with transnational organisations and actors, each with their own aims and interests. Secondly, a disentanglement of the global political dimensions behind the negotiations surrounding captives in war would shed light on many of the hidden (diplomatic) interests, intentions and agendas of transnational intermediaries like the ones looked at in this volume. What was their place and what role did they play in big power politics? Were they used for propaganda purposes by the belligerents involved in order to further their interests? Or did the intermediaries cleverly use their involvement to pursue their own aims and goals? Where did these actors stand against the backdrop of ideological conflicts such as the Second World War or the Cold War? Were they truly neutral and did they only have the captives’ well-being at the forefront of their minds? Or did they believe that by getting involved they were aiding one of the opposing sides? How much agency did they have on the ground, in light of these constellations? In this, nonetheless we should be careful not to project too much power onto transnational actors; rather, we should see them as one small part of a much bigger picture.

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Thirdly, it would be interesting to follow the development of mediation and care practices over time and in different places, and how these were connected and built upon one another. How do the interventions of recent and current intermediaries differ from those a century ago? How were best practices and knowledge with regard to captives transferred? How did they circulate and move over time and space?26 What role does the professionalisation of, for instance, diplomats, play? Has their training altered how negotiations have been conducted? Has it changed who has gotten involved? What importance do geographic and cultural differences have? Has it become easier or more difficult over time to play a role in prisoners in war negotiations? How have certain transnational actors influenced and inspired others? The ICRC hereby serves as a case in point, not only as a transnational actor which displayed its activity on an immense global scale, but one whose modus operandi has been copied and modified by other transnational actors. Lastly, if the source situation allows for this, the relationship between the transnational intermediaries and the captives themselves deserves further attention. How did they view the involvement of diplomatic actors? Did captives welcome transnational intermediaries? Were they keen on establishing a good relationship with them, or could this also be ambivalent? Did transnational actors act on a purely professional level or did they, and if so to what degree, solidarise themselves with the captives under their care? How did both “parties” evaluate their relationship? Such an approach allows for a “bottom-up” view of the involvement of transnational actors and answers the question of how the “clients” themselves, that is to say, the captives, saw the involvement of transnational actors. Thus, it would add much more nuance to transnational aspects of wartime activity. By outlining these four areas, we propose that rather than remain within the national realm, the theme of intermediaries and wartime captivity ought to take a more global and comparative direction. Although analysing transnational actors and their ideas in one conflict can be fruitful, in order to expand the conversation towards a social, cultural and comparative military and diplomatic history, different conflicts must also be considered. In so doing, it is our hope that we can make advances

26 On the connection between moving actors and ideas, see Margrit Pernau, Transnationale Geschichte (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2011), 72.

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towards a global and transnational history of captivity and humanitarianism which also contributes to a better understanding of contemporary conflicts. In a time of globalisation where diplomats and other men and women on the spot as moving actors are becoming more and more professionalised, the field of those involved in diplomatic negotiations during wars has become ever more complex.27 The long wars in Iraq, Afghanistan and Syria have demonstrated that war captives continue to be vulnerable and that the involvement of transnationals like the ICRC in these irregular conflicts remains important, albeit often highly controversial. Nevertheless, the vision of Henry Dunant continues to live on, and diplomatic intermediaries continue to play an often crucial role in the lives of those taken captive in conflicts around the globe.

References Literature Allen, Michael J. 2009. Until the Last Man Comes Home: POWs, MIAs, and the Unending Vietnam War. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press. Alston, Philip, ed. 2005. Non-State Actors and Human Rights. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Beaumont, Joan. 1996. Protecting Prisoners of War: 1939-1995. In Prisoners of War and Their Captors in World War II , eds. Bob Moore and Kent Fedorowich, 277–297. Oxford: Bloomsbury. Berni, Marcel. 2020. Außer Gefecht: Leben, Leiden und Sterben ”kommunistischer” Gefangener in Vietnams amerikanischem Krieg. Hamburg: Hamburger Edition. Biess, Frank. 2006. Homecomings: Returning POWs and the Legacies of Defeat in Postwar Germany. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Bugnion François. 1994. Le Comité International de la Croix-Rouge et la protection des victimes de la guerre. Geneva: Comité international de la Croix-Rouge. Carvin, Stephanie. 2011. Prisoners of America’s Wars: From the Early Republic to Guantanamo. New York: Columbia University Press. Chanda, Nayan. 2007. Bound Together: How Traders, Preachers, Adventurers, and Warriors Shaped Globalization. New Haven: Yale University Press.

27 On the significance of similar moving actors, see Nayan Chanda, Bound Together: How Traders, Preachers, Adventurers, and Warriors Shaped Globalization (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2007).

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Crawford, Emily. 2010. The Treatment of Combatants and Insurgents under the Law of Armed Conflict. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010. Dunant, Henry. 1959 [1862]. A Memory of Solferino. Trans. American Red Cross. Geneva: International Committee of the Red Cross. Feltman, Brian K. 2015. The Stigma of Surrender: German Prisoners, British Captors, and Manhood in the Great War and Beyond. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press. Fierke, Karin M. 2005. Diplomatic Interventions: Conflict and Change in a Globalizing World. London: Palgrave Macmillan. Foote, Lorien, and Daniel Krebs, eds. 2021. Useful Captives: The Role of POWs in American Military Conflicts. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Forsythe, David P. 2005. The Humanitarians: The International Committee of the Red Cross. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hack, Karl, and Kevin Blackburn, eds. 2011. Forgotten Captives in JapaneseOccupied Asia. London: Routledge. Hermann, Irène, and Daniel Palmieri. 2015. International Committee of the Red Cross. 1914–1918 Online: International Encyclopedia of the First World War, https://encyclopedia.1914-1918-online.net/article/intern ational_committee_of_the_red_cross. Accessed July 27, 2020. Hilton, Matthew, and Rana Mitter. 2013. Introduction. In Transnationalism and Contemporary Global History, eds. Matthew Hilton and Rana Mitter, 7–28. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Iryie, Akira, and Pierre-Yves Saunier. 2009. Introduction: The Professor and the Madman. In The Palgrave Dictionary of Transnational History, eds. Akira Iriye and Pierre-Yves Saunier, xvii–xx. London: Palgrave. Jahr, Christoph, and Jens Thiel. 2013. Prolegomena zu einer Geschichte der Lager: Eine Einführung. In Lager vor Auschwitz: Gewalt und Integration im 20. Jahrhundert, eds. Christoph Jahr and Jens Thiel, 7–19. Berlin: Metropol. Jones, Heather. 2011. Violence Against Prisoners of War in the First World War: Britain, France and Germany, 1914–1920. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Josselin, Daphné and William Wallace. 2001. Non-State Actors in World Politics: A Framework. In Non-State Actors in World Politics, eds. Daphné Josselin and William Wallace, 1–20. Basingstoke: Palgrave. Kruck, Andreas, and Andrea Schneiker. 2017. Introduction: Researching NonState Actors in International Security—A Multitude of Challenges, a Plurality of Approaches. In Researching Non-State Actors in International Security: Theory and Practice, eds. Andreas Kruck and Andrea Schneiker, 1–36. Abingdon: Routledge. Latham, William C., Jr. 2012. Cold Days in Hell: American POWs in Korea. College Station: Texas A&M University Press.

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Levie, Howard S. 1978. Prisoners of War in International Armed Conflict. Newport: Naval War College Press. Littlejohn, Jeffrey L. and Charles Howard Ford, eds. 2015. “The Enemy Within Never Did Without:” German and Japanese Prisoners of War at Camp Huntsville, 1942–1945. Huntsville: Texas Review Press. Mallet, David, and Miriam J. Anderson. 2017. Introduction: The Transnational Century. In Transnational Actors in War and Peace: Militants, Activists and Corporations in World Politics, eds. David Mallet and Miriam J. Anderson, 1–23. Washington: Georgetown University Press. Moore, Bob, and Barbara Hately-Broad. 2005. Prisoners of War, Prisoners of Peace: Captivity, Homecoming and Memory in World War II . Oxford: Berg. Moore, Bob, and Kent Fedorowich. 2002. The British Empire and its Italian Prisoners of War 1940–1947 . Basingstoke: Palgrave. Murphy, Mahon. 2008. Colonial Captivity During the First World War Internment and the Fall of the German Empire. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Mytum, H. C., and Gillian Carr, eds. 2013. Prisoners of War: Archaeology, Memory, and Heritage of 19th- and 20th-Century Mass Internment. New York: Springer. Nachtigal, Reinhard. 2003. Rußland und seine österreichisch-ungarischen Kriegsgefangenen 1914 bis 1918. Remshalden: B.A. Greiner. Neerland, Soleim, Marianne, ed. 2010. Prisoners of War and Forced Labour: Histories of War and Occupation. Newcastle Upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. O’Sullivan, Kevin, Matthew Hilton, and Juliano Fiori. 2016. Humanitarianisms in Context. European Review of History, 23: 1–15. Overmans, Rüdiger. 1999. ‘In der Hand des Feindes:’ Geschichtsschreibung zur Kriegsgefangenschaft von der Antike bis zum Zweiten Weltkrieg. In In der Hand des Feinds: Kriegsgefangenschaft von der Antike bis zum Zweiten Weltkrieg, ed. Rüdiger Overmans, 1–39. Köln: Böhlau. Panikos, Panayi. 2018. Prisoners of Britain: German Civilian and Combatant Internees During the First World War. Oxford: Manchester University Press. Pathé, Anne-Marie and Fabien Théofilakis, eds. 2016. Wartime Captivity in the 20th Century: Archives, Stories, Memories. New York: Berghahn Books. Pernau, Margrit. 2011. Transnationale Geschichte. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Peters, Anne, Lucy Koechlin, Till Förster, and Gretta Fenner Zinkernagel, eds. 2009 Non-State Actors as Standard Setters. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Pictet, Jean. 1975. Humanitarian Law and the Protection of War Victims. Leyden, Geneva: A.W. Sijthoff/Henry-Dunant-Institute.

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Risse, Thomas. 2013. Transnational Actors and World Politics. In Handbook of International Relations, eds. Walter Carlsnaes, Thomas Risse and Beth A. Simmons, 426–452. Thousand Oaks: Sage. Rochester, Stuart I. and Frederick T. Kiley. 1999. Honor Bound: American Prisoners of War in Southeast Asia, 1961–1973. Annapolis: Naval Institute Press. Rodley, Nigel S. 1987. The Treatment of Prisoners under International Law. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Rosas, Allan. The Legal Status of Prisoners of War: A Study in International Humanitarian Law Applicable in Armed Conflicts. Helsinki: Suomalainen tiedeakatemia. Rosenberg, Emily S., ed. 2012. A World Connecting: 1870–1945. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Scheck, Rafael. 2014. French Colonial Soldiers in German Captivity During World War II . Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Scheipers, Sibylle, ed. 2011. Prisoners in War. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Stibbe, Matthew. 2008. British Civilian Internees in Germany: The Ruhleben Camp, 1914–1918. Manchester: Manchester University Press. Wallace, Geoffrey P. R. 2015. Life and Death in Captivity: The Abuse of Prisoners During War. Ithaca: Cornell University Press. Wienand, Cristiane. 2015. Returning Memories: Former Prisoners of War in Divided and Reunited Germany. Rochester: Camden House. Wilkinson, Oliver. 2017. British Prisoners of War in First World War Germany. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Young, Charles. 2014. Name, Rank, and Serial Number: Exploiting Korean War POWs at Home and Abroad. New York: Oxford University Press.

CHAPTER 2

“Any Unfavourable Condition or Untoward Circumstance Will Receive Immediate Attention”: American Consuls’ Visits to British Colonial Internment Camps of the Great War Tamara Cubito

Since at least the Franco-Prussian War in 1870/1871, it was customary for belligerents to appoint a protecting power which was to take over diplomatic relations with the nations they were at war with.1 Belligerents, whenever they officially wanted to correspond with each other, went through their protecting powers rather than communicating directly. Appointed as protecting power were usually neutral nations agreeing to do so. One of the main tasks of these protecting powers was to look 1 Howard S. Levie defined “protecting power” as “a state responsibility of protecting the interests of another state in the which, for some reason, such as war, the second state does relations.” See Howard S. Levie, “Prisoners of War and the American Journal of International Law 55, no. 2 (1961): 374.

which has accepted the territory of a third, with not maintain diplomatic Protecting Power,” The

T. Cubito (B) Swiss Military Academy, ETH Zurich, Birmensdorf, Switzerland e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 M. Berni and T. Cubito (eds.), Captivity in War during the Twentieth Century, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-65095-7_2

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after so-called enemy aliens: nationals who found themselves in enemy territory during hostilities.2 Another important duty of protecting powers was to make sure prisoners of war were treated well by the belligerents. To ensure this, envoys of the protecting powers paid visits to prisoner of war camps. This had, for example, been the case in the Spanish– American War of 1898 as well as many other conflicts around the turn of the century. Appointing protecting powers during war had become a well-established international practice by 1914.3 Surprisingly, despite the wealth of archival material available and a surge of interest in the Great War, the study of the role of these protecting powers during this conflict has remained a neglected topic by historians until today. This is particularly true for the extra-European realm. The aim of this chapter is to shed light on this understudied theme of the First World War, albeit further research will be needed to reveal the full picture of the protecting powers’ efforts in this conflict. It outlines the important yet all too often forgotten role of American consuls, in their function as local agents of the protecting power, when it came to taking care of internees and prisoners of war in British colonies during the First World War.4

The Protecting Powers’ Representatives When the First World War broke out in the summer of 1914, it was clear to all belligerents that a neutral nation would have to be appointed as protecting power in order to take care of the interests of their nationals in their opponents’ territory. Of relevance for this chapter is that the German

2 For an example of how this “protecting power system” continued in the Second World War, see the chapter by Rowena Ward in this collection. 3 Levie, “Prisoners of War.” Of course, protecting powers can also be installed without

there being a state of war, such as, for example, Switzerland acting as protecting power for the United States in Iran. 4 This means that this chapter does not look at Britain itself. Ireland, the dominions and India are not taken into consideration either. In these locations, in contrast to the British colonies looked at in this chapter, protecting powers did not bear the sole responsibility for the supervision of conditions in camps. Instead, they were supported, or their efforts even dwarfed by, various other organisations such as the Quakers or the International Committee of the Red Cross. For more on this, see for example: Matthew Stibbe, “The Internment of Civilians by Belligerent States during the First World War and the Response of the International Committee of the Red Cross,” Journal of Contemporary History 41, no. 1 (2006): 5–19.

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and Austro-Hungarian governments, and later the Ottoman government, asked the American government to act for them in all British territory. This meant that American diplomatic and consular agents were now in charge of the protection of all German, Austro-Hungarian and Ottoman nationals and their interests within their consular realm. These American consular and diplomatic agents were promptly instructed by the US State Department to exercise their duties “with impartiality and discretion” and that they were to “examine all complaints, which may be laid in behalf of foreign subjects or citizens under your protection […].”5 These duties of course entailed a wide range of responsibilities and tasks, which kept American diplomats and consuls busy for years and absorbed much of their time. Perhaps the most time-consuming task which fell to the American representatives was to inspect the various internment camps for combatants and civilians belonging to the nations officially under their protection, not just in the mother countries of the belligerents but throughout the globe, including their imperial outposts. In Europe, and particularly in Britain and the German Empire, camp inspections by American observers quickly became formalised and institutionalised as what Richard B. Speed has referred to as “the American Scheme.”6 As will be shown in what follows, outside of Europe it was a very different story. For one, in more remote areas, there were simply not many local American representatives. In the British colonies, all official American representatives were consuls or vice-consuls, since the title “ambassador” was reserved for professional American diplomats heading US embassies established in the capitals of the great powers. It needs to be borne in mind that consuls were not full diplomats like ambassadors, but persons appointed by a state to reside in foreign countries, and permitted by the government of the latter to reside, for the purpose partly of watching over the interests of the subjects of the state by which they are

5 United States Department of State, Papers relating to the foreign relations of the United States, 1914. Supplement, The World War, US State Department to all diplomatic and consular agents, August 17, 1914, accessed November 8, 2019, http://digicoll.lib rary.wisc.edu/cgi-bin/FRUS/FRUS-idx?type=header&id=FRUS.FRUS1914Supp. 6 Richard B. Speed III, Prisoners, Diplomats, and the Great War: A Study in the Diplomacy of Captivity (Westport: Greenwood, 1990).

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appointed, and partly of doing certain acts on its behalf which are important to it or to its subjects, but to which the foreign country is indifferent, it being either unaffected by them, or affected only in a remote and indirect manner.7

The main tasks of a consul in peacetime were purely administrative, such as the authentication of deaths and births of nationals of the state he acted as consul for. A consul did not even have to be in possession of the nationality of the state he represented. Thus, a US consul was not necessarily in possession of American citizenship. Usually, being consul was a part-time venture and not a profession. Unlike in Europe where many of those visiting internment camps were professional diplomats, most of the American consular representatives looked at in this chapter were in fact resident businessmen of a British colony. Nevertheless, as this chapter will show, they still managed to fulfil their protecting duties by looking after internees in their colony of residence. Unfortunately, due to their somewhat unofficial status, hardly any correspondence, apart from the official reports they submitted, can be found at any archives, not even the National Archives of the United States. After the United States had entered the war on the side of the Entente in April 1917, it could obviously no longer act as protecting power for the Central Powers. Smaller neutral nations, such as Switzerland, Spain or Sweden, took over from it. This meant that camp visits in the colonies by neutral powers became much less frequent. One of the main reasons for this was that these smaller neutral states who took over from the United States as protecting powers lacked the wide network of consuls the Americans had had. Much coordination between them was required to organise camp visits.8 In the case of Bermuda, for example, the internees had to wait for over a year as the Swiss consul at New York and an attaché from the Swiss Legation in Washington had to travel all the way to the Atlantic 7 See William Edward Hall, A Treatise on International Law (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1890), 314. 8 This was, for example, the issue in Barbados, where the Swiss officially acted as protecting power but there was no Swiss consul on the island. Over a year after the last visit of the US consul, it could finally be arranged for the acting Swedish consul in Barbados to visit the internees. See: TNA, FO 383/347/191349, CO to FO, October 3, 1917; TNA, CO 28/294/4308, FO to CO, January 24, 1918; TNA, CO 28/293/4633, Probyn to CO, January 25, 1918; TNA, CO 28/294/6906, FO to CO, February 7, 1918 and TNA, CO 28/293/15729, Probyn to CO, March 1, 1918.

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island in order to inspect its internment camp. Once there, the Swiss commission even met up with US consul Carl R. Loop who had visited the camp once a month prior to the United States entering the war in order to hear about his experiences and impressions first-hand.9 Camp reports on internment camps in the colonies after the spring of 1917 are, therefore, very sparse. Thus, the following section will, by and large, focus on the experiences of American consuls representing the United States while that country acted as protecting power.

American Consuls’ Camp Visits in British Colonies Within months of the outbreak of war, the treatment of combatant prisoners of war as well as of interned civilians featured heavily in the press of the belligerents. There were, for instance, numerous allegations of their mistreatment in Britain and in the German Empire.10 Thus, American representatives were called upon as impartial observers to inspect the various camps. The situation in many British overseas possessions was similar. By autumn 1914, a large number of civilians—either travellers or sailors removed from enemy, neutral or British ships, or residents of British colonies—had been interned for a number of reasons.11 The Great War was the first conflict in which civilians were interned on such a

9 TNA, CO 37/262/22018, FO to CO, May 4, 1918, enclosed camp report by Swiss Consul Louis H. Junod and Dr. Conrad Jenny. 10 For more on internment and prisoners of war in Britain and Germany, see for example: Heather Jones, Violence against Prisoners of War in the First World War. Britain, France and Germany, 1914–1920 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011); Oliver Wilkinson, British Prisoners of War in First World War Germany (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017); Panikos Panayi, Prisoners of Britain: German Civilian and Combatant Internees During the First World War (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2012) or Matthew Stibbe, British Civilian Internees in Germany. The Ruhleben Camp, 1914–1918 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2008). For an excellent general overview of global internment during the Great War, see Matthew Stibbe, Civilian Internment During the First World War. A European and Global History, 1914–1920 (Cham: Palgrave Macmillan, 2019). 11 For more in-depth information on internment in the British colonies, see Tamara Braun, “‘Leave ‘no stone unturned’ in the hunt for Alien Enemies?’ The British and their Enemy Aliens in the Colonial Empire, 1914–1924” (PhD diss., University of Bern, 2020).

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grand, global scale.12 As the war went on, in some colonies such as Malta, they were joined by regular prisoners of war. Allegations of mistreatment, which made their way to Europe, were soon made by those held in British colonies. Hence, it quickly became apparent that these camps would have to be inspected by neutral observers. Perhaps not surprisingly, paralleling the practice established in Europe, the task fell to local US officials, namely, consuls.13 In practically all colonies where there was an internment camp as well as an American consul, he was instructed to visit these camps within months of the outbreak of war by the US State Department. Officially, the German, Austro-Hungarian and Ottoman Empires’ Foreign Offices had to ask the US State Department whether American representatives could visit the internment camp in a British colony. The US State Department would forward this request to the British Foreign Office, which then sent this on to the British Colonial Office which was responsible for forwarding these requests to the colonial governor. In practice, this complicated protocol was not always followed and there were instances of American consuls arranging camp visits directly with the local colonial governors since the official process would have taken months. The British Colonial Office instructed the colonial governors to “afford every facility” to the visiting American consuls and were very much in favour of their inspections, as internal, handwritten comments show.14 In the periphery, the consuls’ visits to internment camps and subsequent reports were seen by the local colonial authorities as a welcome opportunity to showcase their direct contribution to the war to their superiors in London. Thus, American consuls took care of internees in Bermuda, Hong Kong, Malta, Gibraltar, Trinidad, Jamaica, Barbados, North Borneo, Ceylon and the Straits Settlements. They received access whenever they wanted to most internment camps and could move about freely, speak to all internees, or the spokespersons elected by the internees, without supervision by the British authorities. 12 See, for example, Stefan Manz, Panikos Panayi and Matthew Stibbe, eds., Internment

during the First World War. A Mass Global Phenomenon (London: Routledge, 2019). 13 See various documents in: United States Department of State, Papers relating to the foreign relations of the United States, 1914. Supplement, The World War, accessed November 8, 2019, http://digicoll.library.wisc.edu/cgi-bin/FRUS/FRUS-idx?type=hea der&id=FRUS.FRUS1914Supp. 14 TNA, CO 137/729/16344, FO to CO, April 3, 1918.

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They were, in most cases, allowed to receive letters from those interned, which indicates that the British authorities had nothing to hide and were genuinely trying to maintain good conditions.15 In the tiny colony of Gibraltar, internees were at times even allowed to pay personal visits to the American consul.16 Where British local authorities attempted to infringe this right of access, the consuls usually protested successfully. They took very seriously the internees’ right to speak to a neutral representative. When the internees in Hong Kong, for instance, complained to US consul George Anderson that some of the letters they had written to him had been withheld by the camp officials with the excuse that they “violated rules of censorship,” Anderson was quick to tell the camp authorities that this was unacceptable and that the internees “should be allowed free access to me in all such matters as they had desired to present to me.”17 The majority of the consuls took their new tasks, which they had no prior experience in, extremely seriously and visited the internment camps regularly until the United States entered the war in 1917. American consuls, in many instances, proactively made suggestions for improvements and many of them seem to have taken a genuine interest in improving the situation of the internees. The US consul in Bermuda, for example, was so committed to ensuring the well-being of each individual internee that he even visited them if they were in hospital.18 The American consul in Barbados, C. Ludlow Livingston, personally sent the internees reading material since, in his opinion, what the local authorities provided was not sufficient. Livingston even went as far as sending the internees boxes of cigars for Christmas.19 For a number of US consuls, 15 See for example TNA, CO 129/424/56940, May to CO, October 28, 1915, enclosed camp report by Anderson. 16 TNA, CO 91/458/17104, Miles to CO, March 31, 1915, enclosed report by Sprague. 17 TNA, CO 129/424/56940, May to CO, October 28, 1915, enclosed camp report by Anderson. In contrast to camps elsewhere, the camp commandant did not agree to this, claiming that this “would give rise to an unnecessary amount of correspondence. I think that the Prisoners of War may well be left under direct and absolute British management without interference by the United States of America’s Consul General […].” See: TNA, CO 129/424/56940, May to CO, October 28, 1915, enclosed camp report by US consul Anderson and statement by GOC (General Officer Commanding) Ventris. 18 TNA, CO 37/259/55921, FO to CO, November 21, 1916, enclosed camp report by Loop. 19 TNA, CO 28/290/16171, FO to CO, April 4, 1916, enclosed report by Livingston.

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tending to the internees in the colony consumed much of their free time each month. It is unclear from the available sources whether they were paid for this extra work and any expenses arising from it. Only rarely was any reference to this point made. The US consul in Bermuda, Carl R. Loop, mentioned in a report that “as in former cases no expense was incurred in making the inspection.”20 However, what is undoubtedly clear is that many of the American consuls must have spent hours, in many cases each and every single month, visiting camps and compiling lengthy reports on their observations. It seems that many of them thoroughly enjoyed their camp visits and took pride in their new task.21 For instance, the American consul at Bermuda, Carl R. Loop, occasionally remained on the camp island to watch football games between the internees and the camp guards.22 The US consul at Hong Kong, George Anderson, assured his superiors that he was taking his task very seriously: “I am in touch with the camp all the time and any unfavourable condition or untoward circumstance will receive immediate attention.”23 Similarly, when the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) enquired about conditions at the internment camp in Jamaica after receiving a complaint, the American consul, Mr. Monaghan, was keen to stress that if conditions were in fact as bad as alleged, there was no way the camp authorities could have hidden this from him since he made an effort to visit “the camp at all hours in the day, even in the evening time.”24 He stressed that his vice-consul, Mr. Bundy, who bore the main responsibility for checking on the internees as well as Mr. Dougan—an American national and personal friend of theirs who had accompanied the consul on a camp visit out of personal interest—thought conditions at the camp were excellent.25 How regularly American consuls visited a camp depended on the colony. But 20 See TNA, CO 37/259/36737, Foreign Office (FO) to CO, August 3, 1916,

enclosed camp report by Loop. 21 See for example TNA, CO 37/259/62502, FO to CO, December 28, 1916, enclosed letter and report by Loop. 22 See for example TNA, CO 37/259/18443, FO to CO, April 17, 1916, enclosed camp report by Loop. 23 TNA, CO 129/424/56940, May to CO, October 28, 1915, enclosed camp report by Anderson. 24 TNA, CO 137/710/33171, Manning to CO, July 2, 1915, enclosed letter by Monaghan. 25 Ibid.

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generally speaking, if there was a US consul and a permanent internment camp in a colony, he visited the camp roughly every month.26 This meant that American consuls in British colonies, as the US consul in Bermuda stated, gained […] intimate knowledge of conditions as they actually obtain, afforded by my monthly inspection of premises, sleeping accommodations, kitchens food and clothing, from my private interviews with the prisoners themselves and from the constant touch in which I kept with the local officers who are in charge with the care and treatment of these prisoners.27

Most consuls who visited camps in the colonies stressed that they had spoken to the prisoners without any supervision.28 Of course, the assessments by the US consuls were based on the camp(s) in only one colony and they could not compare them with conditions elsewhere. Also, it was presumably in their interest to carefully word and balance their reports, particularly when there was criticism, in order not to upset the local colonial authorities which had to facilitate their visits. From the sources available, it remains unclear how exactly the prisoners viewed the role of the consuls and what their exact relationship with them was like. Unfortunately, hardly any letters or similar documents emanating from internees in the colonies making reference to the consuls have survived. None of their letters to US consuls, of which there must have been many, can be found in any archives. Only rarely are there remarks in inspection reports of internees thanking the US consuls for their support. One can only guess as to the reasons for this. It could be the case that some US consuls preferred to remain in the background and did not want to stress their own role too much since the well-being of the prisoners was to be the central theme of the reports. Also, had they hinted at too close a connection with the internees, their impartiality would have been brought into question. Most probably, if they felt grateful, it is likely the internees thanked the US consuls in person for

26 See for example TNA, CO 37/259/36737, FO to CO, August 3, 1916, enclosed camp report by Loop. 27 TNA, CO 37/259/62502, FO to CO, December 28, 1916, enclosed letter and report by Loop. 28 See for example TNA, CO 129/415/3941, May to CO, December 17, 1914, enclosed camp report by Anderson.

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their support. Judging from the consuls’ reports, they were most definitely appreciated. The internees often eagerly awaited their visits and made use of the opportunity to voice complaints and ask the consuls for help. Another indication of the importance of the US consuls’ work is that when in 1917, they could no longer act as protective power, numerous internees as well as some colonial authorities were desperate for another nation to fill the void. This would not have been the case had the US consuls not been of importance and highly appreciated and valued.

Reports and Complaints The abovementioned camp reports were then sent by the consuls to the US State Department to be passed on to the British and German Foreign Offices. In many instances, the US consuls also directly passed their reports on to the local colonial authorities in question, which then sent these on to their superiors at the Colonial Office in London, often adding their own remarks and explanations. The British Foreign Office equally passed on all reports they received via the official channels to the Colonial Office, which resulted in many duplicate reports circulating in London. While there were no templates or forms given to the envoys of the protecting power, their reports were all very similar. US consular representatives received some instructions on what they were to report on from the US State Department in June 1915, but they were nevertheless very free when it came to the details.29 Consuls normally described the camps and their surroundings, living conditions, daily life, the internees, reported on new internees and releases, deaths, illnesses, arguments and disagreements within the camps, and in some instances, even commented upon the camp authorities and guards. Overall, American consuls came to the conclusion that conditions in the majority of the internment camps in British colonies were good and the internees were well looked after.30 In addition to these regular reports, US consuls were also called upon to conduct special investigations when reports about the mistreatment of internees in colonial camps made the rounds in the German 29 See remark by the US consul of Bermuda, Carl Loop, in: TNA, CO 37/259/43710, FO to CO, September 12, 1916, enclosed camp report by Loop. 30 See for example TNA, CO 129/424/56940, May to CO, October 28, 1915, enclosed camp report by Anderson or TNA, CO 158/395/2925 FO to CO, June 21, 1916, enclosed report by Keblinger.

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Empire or Austria-Hungary. If the local authorities could or would not solve the issue at hand, it was usually the representatives of the neutral protecting powers who acted as a broker between the internees and the authorities. In many instances, they made a real difference which they perhaps never received enough credit for. Overall, the representatives of the protecting powers, such as the US consul at Gibraltar, believed that many complaints were “of a trivial nature”31 and were made merely out of boredom. Similar opinions were voiced by various other US consuls who had visited internment camps, investigated complaints and come to the conclusion that these were unfounded.32 For instance, the US consul at Trinidad, Henry D. Baker, believed that “naturally a long period of internment will create a disposition to complain and grumble, and perhaps to fancy certain grievances which […] apparently do not exist.”33 Nevertheless, US consuls dutifully reported upon these complaints and conducted investigations into them. Many American consuls spent a significant amount of time helping, or attempting to help, individual internees. When an internee in Bermuda, for example, complained that he had not received a piece of wood he had ordered from the authorities to make carvings to sell in order to earn some money, US consul Carl R. Loop spoke to the local authorities and made sure the individual concerned received his wood.34 The internees’ complaints and the US consuls’ reports were also a part of the propaganda war between the belligerents.35 Most of them were keen to uphold the notion that they themselves were treating their prisoners of war well, whereas their opponent treated them inhumanely. Reports of mistreatment were a frequent feature in the press. Often, released internees made some claims that contained an element of truth

31 TNA, CO 91/458/17104, Miles to CO, March 31, 1915, enclosed report by R. L. Sprague. 32 See for example TNA, CO 295/506/40210, Chancellor to CO, August 3, 1916, enclosed camp report by McConnico. 33 TNA, CO 295/511/11053, Chancellor to CO, February 5, 1917, enclosed camp

report by Henry D. Baker. The US consul in Bermuda had a similar theory. See: TNA, CO 37/259/43710, FO to CO, September 12, 1916, enclosed camp report by Loop. 34 TNA, CO 37/259/49753, FO to CO, October 16, 1916, enclosed report by Loop. 35 For more on this, see for example: Kenneth Steuer, “German Propaganda and

Prisoners-of-War during World War I,” in World War I and Propaganda, ed. Troy R.E. Paddock (Boston: Brill, 2014), 155–180.

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and then wildly exaggerated them.36 The only impartial actors on the ground which were regarded to be suitable to investigate these claims were representatives of the protecting powers. US consuls frequently stressed how important it was to counter these reports if they were false. As the US consul at Malta, Wilbur Keblinger explained: It is unfortunate that such statements should be given out as it is manifestly unfair to the men who are still interned in Malta as their friends and relatives will very naturally become alarmed and get the impression the prisoners in Malta camp are living under very hard conditions, which is not the case.37

Similarly, when there were reports in the German Empire that the internees in Hong Kong were “forced to work like coolies,” both the German and British governments as well as the local authorities were keen for the local American consul to get to the bottom of this and stamp out any misinformation once and for all.38 General complaints voiced by the internees, no matter in which of the British colonies, were often of a similar nature. Food was probably moaned about the most. It was usually the quality and variety rather than the amount that was criticised by the internees.39 In defence of the British authorities, it is highly likely that they and the mostly German and Austro-Hungarian internees had entirely differing opinions and tastes as to what constituted good food.40 In Trinidad and Tobago for example, the internees complained about the bread they were given. While this bread was probably not as good as what they were used to from home, it was, according, to the US consul, much better than the average bread sold 36 See for example the newspaper article attached in: TNA, WO 154/324, war diary of Provost Marshal on January 22, 1915 or complaint by former internee Theodor Nicolas about the conditions in North Borneo after his return to the German Empire: TNA, CO 531/9/52011, BNBCo to CO, November 10, 1915. 37 TNA, CO 158/395/2925, FO to CO, June 21, 1916, enclosed camp reports on Malta by Keblinger. 38 TNA, CO 129/415/3941, May to CO, December 17, 1914, enclosed report by Anderson. The consul concluded there was no truth in these claims. 39 See for example TNA, CO 129/424/56940, May to CO, October 28, 1915, enclosed camp report by Anderson. 40 TNA, CO 129/415/3941, May to CO, December 17, 1914, enclosed camp report by Anderson.

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by bakeries in the colony. Also, as the US consul of Hong Kong pointed out, in the case of well-off internees who had been residents of the colony prior to the outbreak of war, it was simply impossible to match the quality of food they had eaten prior to their internment because they were used to such high standards. Some American consuls, after receiving complaints about inadequate food, dropped by the internment camps unannounced in order to try it themselves; in many instances, they were impressed with the internees’ cooking skills.41 For example, Henry D. Baker, US consul in Trinidad and Tobago, stated that the meat at the internment camp tasted better than at his hotel. The American consul at Bermuda, Carl Loop, sampled the margarine after the internees had complained of its poor quality. Agreeing it was not particularly nice, he mentioned this in his camp report. The next time he visited, he remembered this small issue and on further enquiry, was pleased to notice that the margarine quality was markedly better.42 This shows that US consuls were often able to make a difference. Even if these improvements may seem very small and insignificant, they did make a huge difference to those interned. Being residents of the respective colony, the American consuls were also in a position to put complaints in the local context and therefore establish whether, in the grand scheme of things, they were justified. When the internees in North Borneo complained about a lack of fresh fish and meat and being given too much tinned food, US consul G.M. Hanson did not think this was a valid accusation since there were no cooling facilities in North Borneo, and many residents “live out of tins.”43 Internees probably did not realise this, but the food situation was often much worse for the local population. Similarly, US consuls put things into context when it came to complaints about being guarded by or interned close to “natives.” Particularly German internees felt this was a humiliation, not being aware of the fact that in many colonies, particularly in the Caribbean, while of

41 See for example TNA, CO 37/259/18443, FO to CO, April 17, 1916, enclosed report by Loop or TNA, CO 37/262/22018, FO to CO, May 4, 1918, enclosed report by Junod and Jenny. 42 TNA, CO 37/259/36737, FO to CO, August 3, 1916, enclosed camp report by Loop. It is unclear whether the quality of the margarine had been improved just because of Loop’s intervention. 43 TNA, CO 513/10/17519, Ridgeway to CO, April 11, 1916, enclosed report by G.M. Hanson.

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course racial distinctions still existed in a variety of ways, there was no strict segregation.44 American consuls, often having lived among these communities for many years, knew that racial separation could not realistically be upheld in all walks of life. This was often out of necessity since the number of white inhabitants to fill all official posts and important professions was simply not large enough. Many of the enemy aliens interned in the colonies had been merchant seamen prior to the outbreak of war and were likely unaware of this. Particularly those who had served on merchant ships travelling between Europe and the United States were perhaps used to a stricter racial separation.45 The American consul in Trinidad, Henry D. Baker, was keen to discount some of the according objections by the internees. Replying to a complaint that many of the guards were “coloured” men, Baker stated: It is the duty of the coloured soldiers at the camp under their white officers to preserve discipline, but there seems no reason to believe that these soldiers in any way go beyond their duties in preserving order and discipline. I fail to see the point in the German Ambassador’s criticism of the colour of these soldiers. All the policemen in Port of Spain are coloured, and in case any one of them was obliged to arrest any Englishman because of violation of law or regulation, I am sure that no local court would hold that because the policeman was coloured, it was impudent of him to arrest any white man who violated the law.46

44 This of course does not mean that there was any racial equality or harmony, as events

in numerous British colonies just after the end of the war show. For more on this, see for example: Jacqueline Jenkinson, Black 1919: Riots, Racism and Resistance in Imperial Britain (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 2009). 45 Whether the internees’ complaints were linked to wider debates and German criticism of the Entente using black soldiers in the war is questionable since all the news the internees received was censored. For more on this theme, see for example: Christian Koller, “Von Wilden aller Rassen niedergemetzelt”. Die Diskussion um die Verwendung von Kolonialtruppen in Europa zwischen Rassismus, Kolonial- und Militärpolitik (1914–1930) (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag, 2001). 46 TNA, CO 295/511/16436, Chancellor to CO, March 5, 1917, enclosed statement by Baker. Linking the black prison guards which served at a handful of internment camps in British colonies to debates on the First World War as a “white man’s war” would probably be a stretch too far. These debates mainly centre on the direct participation of black soldiers and labourers at or near the front. The guards discussed here mainly seem to have regarded the watching of enemy internees as part of their everyday job which they were paid for, many of them already having been regular prison guards or soldiers before the outbreak of war. For more on this notion of the Great War as predominantly

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American consuls also acted as impartial observers when there was ill-feeling between the internees and the camp administration or controversial incidences had taken place. However, as the following cases will show, it is impossible for a historian to assert where exactly the American consuls stood and how impartial their judgement really was. When a number of internees in Malta had been put into detention after they had attempted to escape, they complained of maltreatment. The US consul, Wilbur Keblinger, personally attended the subsequent enquiry ordered by the colony’s governor, ready to step in if their treatment had, in fact, been unfair. In this particular case, Keblinger concluded that “there was practically no evidence to sustain the charge of brutal treatment.”47 When in Gibraltar, a prisoner was shot, the American consul R. L. Sprague attended the coroner’s inquiry to make sure the ruling was fair.48 In Trinidad and Tobago, the commandant of the camp, his employees and the internees of the camp for the “lower” classes did not seem to have gotten on well. In a long letter of complaint to the US consul, the prisoners of war stated: The whole staff of the camp including Mr. Fraser, Captain Commanding, is from the Royal Gaol. All evidence of kindly and human feeling towards us is lacking and we are not treated as honorable prisoners of war but as criminals. Especially Mr. Fraser is treating us with the utmost disrespect. Several of us have been grossly insulted and it is very seldom that he listens to a complaint. […] The treatment by the guards, who are all negroes, is not better. In two cases two of us have been struck by negro corporals. […] Many of the interned here are afraid to complain at all because they

a war of the “white man,” see for example; Gordon Douglas Pollock, Black Soldiers in a White Man’s War. Race, Good Order and Discipline in a Great War Labour Battalion (Cambridge: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2018). It would perhaps make more sense to see the role of these guards in the wider context of the colonial homefronts. Unfortunately, not much literature on this exists to date. An exception is: Glenford Howe, Race, War and Nationalism. A Social History of West Indians in the First World War (Kingston, Ian Randle Publishers, 2002). 47 TNA, FO 383/240/183458, US Chargé d’Affaires to FO, enclosed camp report by Keblinger. 48 TNA, CO 91/458/17104, Miles to CO, March 31, 1915, enclosed report by Sprague.

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have seen, from cases of unjust punishment, which some of us have experienced after making complaints, that in consequence the treatment would be worse than ever.49

Of course, the camp’s commandant, Percy Fraser, denied all allegations.50 The US consul admitted that he was “in no position to ascertain that the men are being abused or ill-treated by the Superintendent or his subordinates.”51 However, he added that he was “inclined to disbelieve the assertions.”52 Here, it needs to be added that the camp’s commandant and the US consul were personally acquainted. From the amount of evidence available, it cannot be denied that the relationship between the camp’s commandant and the internees in Trinidad was complicated. Even court martials were held due to a lack of discipline and an attack on camp commandant Fraser.53 Indicating that American consuls were at least to some degree impartial, US consul Andrew McConnico was not afraid of being very critical of one of the trials and argued that the internees had had no one to defend them, did not know or understand the court proceedings and were, therefore, at a disadvantage.54 Where US consuls believed that internees had rightly been treated strictly, they were not afraid to state it. Thus, the American consul in North Borneo, Mr. Hanson, after hearing that the internees had gotten drunk and been “parading up and down the streets singing German songs,” concluded that the subsequent “shutting off of their liquor” by the local authorities was “probably the best thing that could happen to them.”55 Another category of complaint was medical care.56 The details of how medical care for internees was arranged differed from camp to 49 TNA, CO 295/506/44988, Chancellor to CO, August 22, 1916, enclosed letter

from prisoners of war to McConnico. 50 Ibid., enclosed report by Percy Fraser. 51 Ibid., enclosed letter from internees to McConnico. 52 Ibid. 53 TNA, CO 295/507/58174, Chancellor to CO, November 8, 1916. 54 TNA, CO 295/510/60996, FO to CO, December 20, 1916, enclosed camp report

by McConnico. 55 TNA, CO 531/10/17519, BNBCo (British North Borneo Company) to CO, April 11, 1916, enclosed report by Hanson. 56 See for example TNA, CO 295/506/44988, Chancellor to CO, August 22, 1916, enclosed letter from prisoners of war to McConnico.

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camp. Internees in British colonies were either attended to by military medical officers or private doctors hired by the local administration for this purpose.57 The internees themselves often believed medical care was inadequate and, when complaints to the camp authorities were unsuccessful, passed on their grievances to the American consuls. In Malta for example, the US consul was asked by the prisoners to investigate the conditions at the prisoners’ ward of the military hospital. The US consul investigated but found nothing to substantiate their claims.58 Medical complaints could also have a racial element. For example, in Trinidad and Tobago, the internees from the “lower classes” complained that the doctor who treated them was “coloured.” The US consul, Henry D. Baker, did not let this count: It is true that the physician is a coloured man, but I cannot see what bearing this has on his medical qualifications. He is considered one of the best doctors in Trinidad. He lives at the leading hotel in Port of Spain, and has a very large private practice among white people as well as coloured. I would not hesitate to call upon him myself, if I were ill.59

Local British colonial authorities were generally very welcoming towards the American consuls and maintained good relations with them. Often, they seem to have frequented in similar private circles prior to the outbreak of the war. In particularly one colony, this relationship between the local administration and the US consul was full of tension precisely because of the prisoner of war issue. The following example is the exception rather than the rule but is nevertheless looked at in some detail since it gives, due to the problems that arose, valuable insights into how the visiting and communication process functioned in the colonial periphery.60 In Barbados, any investigations of complaints were discouraged by the local authorities. When the new US consul, C. Ludlow

57 See for example TNA, CO 91/455/17104, Miles to CO, March 31, 1915, enclosed report by Sprague. 58 TNA, CO 383/240/183458, report on visit of camps in Malta by Keblinger, August 14, 1916. 59 TNA, CO 295/511/16436, Chancellor to CO, March 5, 1917, enclosed report by Baker. 60 TNA, CO 28/289/55626, Probyn to CO, October 23, 1916, enclosed letter from Fell to Livingston.

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Livingston, asked the local authorities for permission to investigate certain complaints, the Colonial Secretary of Barbados, T.E. Fell agreed that Livingston had “complete liberty to enter the internment camp unaccompanied by any official whenever he wishes to do so, and to hear anything the Prisoners of war wish to place before him,” but added that the Governor was “convinced that it would be an absolute waste of time to make any investigation of the ‘complaints’.”61 Going a step further, Fell even claimed that all complaints made by the internees were an “invention.”62 The clerks at the British Colonial Office thought Fell’s reply to the American consul was inappropriate, believing Livingston did not “care whether H.E. [Barbados’ Governor Probyn] is convinced that investigation is a waste of time.”63 Therefore, the Colonial Office instructed the Barbados authorities that they had to allow a proper investigation of the complaints by the American consul. The results of the subsequent enquiries by Livingston were not to the liking of Barbados’ local authorities. The internment camp in Barbados was located at Glendairy Prison. The internees were mainly sailors who had been removed from merchant ships by the British authorities. While they were being housed in the same compound as regular criminal prisoners, they had their own separate tract. Of course, a complete separation in all matters was not possible. There were numerous complaints making reference to this situation.64 Livingston, after examining each of them and talking to the internees personally, concluded that “certain of their complaints are justified” and asked the local authorities to remedy them.65 US consul Livingston expressed particular criticism on one point, firmly rooted in contemporary racial attitudes: namely, that sick “prisoners of war are given Castor oil from a common tin cup which is never washed, and which is used in administering Castor oil to black convicts and the prisoners of war in common.”66 US consul Livingston agreed with the internees that 61 Ibid. and TNA, CO 28/291/10493, Probyn to CO, January 26, 1917, enclosed report by Fell and Harrel. 62 TNA, CO 28/289/55626, Probyn to CO, October 23, 1916, enclosed letter from Fell to Livingston. 63 Ibid., CO minutes on this paper. 64 Ibid. 65 TNA, CO 28/290/210, Probyn to CO, December 14, 1916, enclosed camp report by Livingston. 66 Ibid.

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this practice was unacceptable, and the medical care they received was generally inadequate.67 Following these accusations, a childish and highly personal conflict erupted between the American consul and the Colonial Secretary of Barbados, T.E. Fell, which no longer seemed to have much to do with the internees and their complaints per se. Fell, for example, criticised Livingston for taking his task of looking after the internees a bit too seriously: “We were informed that the consul has spent long periods in the internment Camp, and on the 31st October 1916, spent as long a time as five hours conversing with the prisoners of War.”68 What also led to intense discussions was whether the container the prisoners were given castor oil out of was a tin cup or a tin measure.69 Perhaps surprisingly, considering there were far more important matters waiting on their desks, the clerks at the Colonial Office in London took the time to study the “tin measure” discussion in detail and even commented upon it, calling it “a dirty practice.”70 The internment camp’s commandant as well as the medical officer in question squarely put the blame on the internees themselves and argued that if there was any truth in their statements, “then the fault is due to the Prisoners of War consenting to the slackness of the Hospital Attendant.”71 This did not exactly amount to a denial. However, when it came to the racial element of the complaints, similar to instances in Trinidad already quoted in this chapter, the different racial attitudes and opinions of the German internees and those who were used to living in the colonies shone through: “Throughout this Colony, it is quite true that no Medical Officer keeps a separate set of instruments for the black and the white patient! It is the ailment, not the colour which is treated!”72 The matter was never fully resolved. Livingston’s heavy criticism of the medical doctor who was looking after the internees made the matter even more personal, with Barbados’ Colonial Secretary and 67 TNA, CO 28/291/10493, enclosed report by Livingston. 68 TNA, CO 28/291/10784, Probyn to CO, January 26, 1917, enclosed report by

Harrel and Barrington. 69 TNA, CO 28/291/10493, Probyn to CO, January 26, 1917, enclosed report by Livingston. 70 TNA, CO 28/290/210, Probyn to CO, December 14, 1916, CO minutes on this paper. 71 TNA, CO 28/291/10784, Probyn to CO, January 26, 1917, enclosed report by the camp’s commander and medical officer. 72 Ibid.

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Governor then suggesting that the US consul was perhaps not sane and was trying to take revenge on the camp’s medical doctor since he had had personal differences with him. Even though there is an enormous amount of correspondence on this argument, it is difficult to reach a conclusion on who was in the right. US consul Livingston gave many examples of unprofessional and insanitary behaviour by the medical officer. He quoted the internees who had complained by name and the accusations are so detailed that, even if some of it was exaggerated, it is highly likely that there was some truth in the claims.73 Reading the extensive correspondence, one cannot help but think this was no longer about the internees but about the egos of these men. The British Colonial Office as well as the Foreign Office seem to have found the exchanges between the Barbados local authorities and the American consul C. Ludlow Livingston entertaining and amusing, but did not think Governor Probyn’s tone was appropriate, fearing it might have “provided the enemy press with some ammunition.”74 This again demonstrates the importance of the good treatment of internees in the context of a global propaganda war. The Colonial Office reached the conclusion that it would be very comfortable to get rid of the US consul because he was a difficult person, but that at the same time, they also believed there was “something in the allegations” against the camp’s medical officer.75 The authorities in London, as this comment shows, had no control over what went on in the internment camps in their colonies and often had to draw their own conclusions from the reports they received from their men-on-the-spot and the US consuls. The whole problem in Barbados “solved” itself with the rupture of diplomatic relations between the German Empire and the United States and the latter’s entry into the war, which meant US consul Livingston was no longer allowed to visit the internment camp.76

73 See TNA, CO 28/291/10493, enclosed report by Livingston with extracts of claims by German internees. See also: TNA, CO 28/290/210, Probyn to CO, December 14, 1916, enclosed letter from Fell to Livingston; TNA, TNA, CO 28/291/10785, Probyn to CO, January 31, 1917. 74 TNA, CO 28/292/7840, FO to CO, February 12, 1917, CO minutes on this paper. 75 TNA, CO 28/291/10785, Probyn to CO, January 31, 1917, CO minutes on this paper and TNA, FO 383/346/29713, US Ambassador to FO, February 6, 1917, FO minutes on this paper. 76 TNA, CO 28/291/14871, Probyn to CO, February 20, 1917.

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Of course, even if US consuls were neutral on paper, their observations and judgements were guided by their personal attitudes, background and their views on what constituted proper treatment of civilian internees and prisoners of war. Consuls were usually of a different social standing than many of the internees, particularly those who were sailors with hardly any formal education, and this no doubt influenced their opinions. Thus, unsurprisingly, their ideas of what constituted appropriate treatment differed from those of the internees themselves. The American consul of Bermuda, Carl Loop, for example, argued that many complaints by the internees were “based upon erroneous notions of what their treatment should be.”77 It is difficult to assess today whether the treatment of internees in British colonies was adequate. However, it is clear from the reports written by neutral observers as well as correspondence between local authorities and the Colonial Office in London that any obvious mistreatment of prisoners of war was under no circumstances tolerated. Panikos Panayi and Stefan Manz also came to the conclusion that the treatment of internees in the empire was “in essence humane.”78

Conclusion As shown in this chapter, the support provided by US consuls was by and large limited to social and emotional support as well as diplomatic protests when the British authorities did not adhere to the accepted guidelines with regard to the treatment of internees and prisoners of war. When it came to material and financial relief, the consuls in the colonies usually could not provide much help. Organisations such as the ICRC, which provided much relief to internees and prisoners of war in Europe as well as, in the British case, the dominions, had no representatives in the British colonial empire. It was the US consuls who, by and large, had to make up for this absence of international representation. However, due to their lack of experience and a well-established support network, most consuls could only ask the colonial authorities to provide the goods and services the internees needed. If these authorities refused, there was not much 77 TNA, CO 37/259/62502, FO to CO, December 28, 1916, enclosed letter and report by Loop. 78 Stefan Manz and Panikos Panayi, “The Internment of Civilian ‘Enemy Aliens’ in the British Empire,” in Internment during the First World War: A Mass Global Phenomenon, ed. Stefan Manz, Panikos Panayi and Matthew Stibbe (London: Routledge, 2019), 32.

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the consuls could do. In a few rare cases, particularly in the Caribbean, consuls seem to have, usually successfully, applied for support to American charities.79 However, this practice of consuls asking essentially private charities for help does not seem to have been widespread. Overall, this shows that internment and prisoners of war camps in the British colonies were much less tied into an international relief framework than those in Europe. The protecting powers’ visits to internment camps in the British colonies were nevertheless important on numerous levels. On the one hand, their reports ensured the friends and families of those interned that their loved ones were being treated well and they did not have to worry about their well-being. These reports were also, in a sense, like audits which confirmed to the British government that the internees in far-flung colonies were being well looked after—something that London otherwise had no opportunity to double-check on, having to rely on reports written by their governors. The protecting powers were the only intermediaries available. Ironically, since a number of colonial governors did not report on internment camps in their colony regularly, the British authorities in London usually only had the protecting powers’ reports to go by in order to get an idea of how these camps were run. Of course, the protecting powers’ reports were also important in the light of the propaganda war which ensued between the belligerents. Each of them wanted to show to neutrals, their own population as well as, in some cases, the enemy, that they were the more humane ones in this brutal conflict. The representatives of the protecting powers, and in particular American consuls, were also of huge importance to the internees themselves. The American consuls listened to internees and their comparatively very small everyday problems and were often able to make a real difference and improve the internees’ life. They gave the internees the feeling that they were not alone and that someone was there who took them seriously and listened to their grievances. Perhaps most importantly, US consuls were faces of humanity and proof to the internees that they had not been forgotten, even in a seemingly never-ending global war in which they were held captives far away from the battlefronts.

79 The “Committee for the Relief of German and Austro-Hungarian Prisoners of War” in New York was such a charity. See TNA, CO 37/259/61655, FO to CO, December 23, 1916, enclosed camp report by Loop on Bermuda.

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References Archival Sources The National Archives of the UK, Kew, Colonial Office, CO 28 (Barbados); CO 37 (Bermuda); CO 137 (Jamaica); CO 129 (Hong Kong); CO 91 (Gibraltar); CO 158 (Malta), CO 295 (Trinidad and Tobago); CO 531 (North Borneo). The National Archives of the UK, Kew, Foreign Office, FO 383 Series (Prisoners of War). The National Archives of the UK, War Office, WO 154/324 (War Diary Provost Marshal, South China Command). United States Department of State, Papers relating to the foreign relations of the United States, 1914. Supplement, The World War. http://digicoll. library.wisc.edu/cgi-bin/FRUS/FRUS-idx?type=header&id=FRUS.FRUS19 14Supp. Accessed November 8, 2019.

Literature Braun, Tamara. 2020. “‘Leave ‘No Stone Unturned’ in the Hunt for Alien Enemies?’ The British and their Enemy Aliens in the Colonial Empire, 1914–1924.” PhD diss., University of Bern. Hall, William Edward. 1890. A Treatise on International Law. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Howe, Glenford. 2002. Race, War and Nationalism. A Social History of West Indians in the First World War. Kingston: Ian Randle Publishers. Jenkinson, Jacqueline. 2009. Black 1919: Riots, Racism and Resistance in Imperial Britain. Liverpool: Liverpool University Press. Jones, Heather. 2011. Violence against Prisoners of War in the First World War. Britain, France and Germany, 1914–1920. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Koller, Christian. 2001. “Von Wilden aller Rassen niedergemetzelt”. Die Diskussion um die Verwendung von Kolonialtruppen in Europa zwischen Rassismus, Kolonial- und Militärpolitik (1914–1930). Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag. Levie, Howard S. 1961. Prisoners of War and the Protecting Power. The American Journal of International Law 55, 2: 374–397. Manz, Stefan Panikos Panayi, and Matthew Stibbe, eds. 2019. Internment during the First World War. A Mass Global Phenomenon. London: Routledge. Panayi, Panikos. 2012. Prisoners of Britain: German Civilian and Combatant Internees During the First World War. Manchester: Manchester University Press. Pollock, Gordon Douglas. 2018. Black Soldiers in a White Man’s War. Race, Good Order and Discipline in a Great War Labour Battalion. Cambridge: Cambridge Scholars Publishing.

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Speed III, Richard B. 1990. Prisoners, Diplomats, and the Great War: A Study in the Diplomacy of Captivity. Westport: Greenwood. Steuer, Kenneth. 2014. German Propaganda and Prisoners-of-War during World War I. In World War I and Propaganda, ed. Troy R.E. Paddock, 155–180. Boston: Brill. Stibbe, Matthew. 2006. The Internment of Civilians by Belligerent States during the First World War and the Response of the International Committee of the Red Cross. Journal of Contemporary History 41, 1: 5–19. Stibbe, Matthew. 2008. British Civilian Internees in Germany. The Ruhleben Camp, 1914–1918. Manchester: Manchester University Press. Stibbe, Matthew. 2019. Civilian Internment During the First World War. A European and Global History, 1914–1920, Cham: Palgrave Macmillan. Wilkinson, Oliver. 2017. British Prisoners of War in First World War Germany. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

CHAPTER 3

“Heraus mit unseren Gefangenen!” The German Home Front and the International Campaign for Prisoner of War Repatriation, 1918–1919 Brian K. Feltman

When German representatives signed the Armistice in November 1918, more than 800,000 German prisoners of war remained scattered around the globe in enemy prison camps. To take advantage of prisoner labour and ensure that Germany would not resume hostilities, the Allied powers delayed the release of their German prisoners until after the signing of the Versailles Peace Treaty. The postponement of prisoner homecomings led to frustration on the German home front, where women had shouldered the burdens of maintaining a household and finding employment in the wartime economy.1 In response to the ordeals they faced, 1 On German working women in the First World War, see Ute Daniel, The War From Within: German Working-Class Women in the First World War (Oxford: Berg, 1997).

B. K. Feltman (B) Georgia Southern University, Statesboro, GA, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 M. Berni and T. Cubito (eds.), Captivity in War during the Twentieth Century, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-65095-7_3

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German women exerted significant political pressure throughout the First World War by publicly protesting food shortages and advocating for war widows and orphans.2 When the war concluded, German women mobilised on behalf of their German fathers, husbands and sons who remained in enemy hands. Focusing on both individual women and organised women’s groups, this essay aims to demonstrate that women’s post-war campaigns for prisoner release represented a continuation of the activism that developed during the war years. In their efforts to assist prisoners of war, women’s groups crafted an image of themselves as suffering mothers and wives rather than political activists. They encouraged both German civilians and politicians to see prisoner repatriation as a national priority by insisting that the victors “give [them] back [their] husbands and sons!” and allow their families to begin healing. Women’s organisations brought Germany’s stranded prisoners into the international consciousness. Through correspondence campaigns, public protests, or by coordinating their efforts with larger prisoner of war advocacy groups, women proved to be an integral part of the movement to bring home Germany’s prisoners of war.

Wartime Prisoner Advocacy and the Repatriation Question The First World War’s negative impact on the everyday lives of average Germans became evident early in the war. Despite an inability to participate in the political system officially, German women forced military and government officials to take notice of their dissatisfaction with the war’s consequences, through public protests and participation in labour strikes. By rioting over bread shortages and storming shops and government offices, German working-class women shone a spotlight on the government’s weakness and forced officials to respond to the people’s demands.3

2 Belinda J. Davis, Home Fires Burning: Food, Politics, and Everyday Life in World War I Berlin (Chapel Hill, NC: The University of North Carolina Press, 2000); Robert Weldon Whalen, Bitter Wounds: German Victims of the Great War, 1914–1939 (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1984); Erica Kuhlman, Of Little Comfort, War Widows, Fallen Soldiers, and the Remaking of the Nation after the Great War (New York: New York University Press, 2012). 3 Davis, Home Fires Burning. See also Ute Frevert, Women in German History: From Bourgeois Emancipation to Sexual Liberation (Oxford: Berg, 1989), 165–167.

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Discontent worsened as casualties mounted and married women became war widows. Whereas German society publicly revered widows, the wives and families of prisoners of war received less empathy from the government or the general population. Surrender to the enemy carried a stigma and prisoners of war, after all, were expected to return home at the end of hostilities. In accordance with The Hague Conventions, the German army bore no responsibility to care for its soldiers in enemy captivity. The German government nonetheless supported several prisoner relief schemes. As early as 1915, prisoners’ families and supporters founded advocacy organisations to raise awareness of the prisoners’ suffering.4 Much of the aid prisoners received abroad was ultimately provided by charitable and religious organisations. International associations such as the Young Men’s Christian Association (YMCA) and the Red Cross relied upon their existing transnational structures to organise and deliver prisoner aid while serving as neutral points of contact between belligerents.5 German women’s organisations were instrumental in these efforts and often worked alongside the Red Cross to oversee regional and national prisoner relief efforts.6 Throughout the war, women had both worked within the system by volunteering with semi-official relief programmes and demonstrated their ability to influence political policy through more raucous public mobilisation. Following the Armistice of November 1918, these spheres collided. The Allied powers announced that they intended to hold the German prisoners of war until after the signing of an official peace treaty rather than immediately beginning repatriation. This policy stemmed from the French desire for revenge, hopes of using prisoners as a source of labour on the former Western Front, and the fear that Germany may opt to resume fighting rather than accept unpopular peace terms. It likewise

4 See Brian K. Feltman, The Stigma of Surrender: German Prisoners, British Captors, and Manhood in the Great War and Beyond (Chapel Hill, NC: UNC Press, 2015). For information on government aid programs for prisoners, 81–82. 5 On international relief efforts for prisoners of war, see Uta Hinz, “Humanität im Krieg? Internationales Rotes Kreuz und Kriegsgefangenenhilfe im Ersten Weltkrieg,” in Kriegsgefangene im Europa des Ersten Weltkriegs, ed. Jochen Oltmer (Paderborn: Schöningh, 2006), 216–238; Kenneth Steuer, Pursuit of an “Unparalleled Opportunity:” The American YMCA and Prisoner of War Diplomacy among the Central Power Nations during World War I, 1914–1923 (New York: Columbia University Press, 2009). 6 Feltman, The Stigma of Surrender, 80–84.

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provided the Allies with leverage during the peace proceedings.7 Frontline German soldiers had begun demobilising in November 1918, but the Allied decision to delay repatriation meant that prisoners of war and their families would face months of uncertainty over their release and the consequences of captivity. Postponed repatriation made it impossible for prisoners of war to search for employment or assist their families in the difficult social and economic climate that accompanied Germany’s defeat.8 Prisoners of war were, therefore, at a disadvantage in the months following the Armistice. Their advocates rallied to remind both Germans and the international community that for prisoners of war and their families, the war continued. The most outspoken prisoner advocates were former prisoners who had been interned in neutral countries due to the severity of their wounds and allowed to return to Germany late in the war or shortly after the Armistice. Former prisoners recognised the need to organise on behalf of their comrades who remained in enemy hands. Their work resulted in the establishment of the Volksbund zum Schutze der deutschen Kriegs- und Zivilgefangenen (People’s League for the Protection of the German Prisoners of War and Civilian Internees) in December 1918.9 The Volksbund primarily sought to expedite prisoner repatriation. It was not affiliated with any political party and stressed its interest in working with anyone who considered prisoner release to be of paramount importance, regardless of political or social background. The Volksbund’s leading voice, Baron Wilhelm von Lersner, had been a prisoner of war in France and the organisation recruited from the ranks of former prisoners and their families.10 Having experienced 38 months of captivity, von Lersner understood that prisoners of war often felt forgotten and 7 See Reinhard Nachtigal, “The Repatriation and Reception of Returning Prisoners of War, 1918–1922,” in Matthew Stibbe, ed., Captivity, Forced Labour and Forced Migration in Europe during the First World War (New York: Routledge, 2009), 172–174; Elizabeth Greenhalgh, The French Army and the First World War (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014), 374. 8 Feltman, The Stigma of Surrender, 136–164. 9 Gerhard Rose, Krieg nach dem Kriege: Der Kampf des deutschen Volkes um die

Heimkehr seiner Kriegsgefangenen (Dortmund: W. Crüwell, 1920), 47. 10 Fritz Maercker, Berlin, to the Police President in Berlin, “Bericht über den Volksbund zum Schutze der deutschen Kriegs-und-Zivilgefangenen,” Tgb. Nr. 28/19, October 21, 1919, Geheimes Staatsarchiv Preußischer Kulturbesitz (GStA PK), I HA. Rep. 1919, Nr. 3866.

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abandoned. The longer they remained in enemy hands, the more intense their sense of neglect became. Following his transfer to neutral Switzerland and ultimate repatriation, von Lersner was elected a prisoner of war delegate by his peers at the transfer camp in Konstanz, Germany, and so began more than two decades of prisoner advocacy.11 Only months after the Volksbund’s establishment, it claimed more than 3000 local branches with at least 5 million members.12 From its earliest origins, the Volksbund strove to include women in its ranks. At the national level, Sister Monika Schulz-Kügler, referred to only as “Schwester Monika” in correspondence and organisational documents, was present at nearly all the Volksbund’s initial meetings. She was elected to the board of directors on January 31, 1919.13 Sister Monika was visible because of her leadership position, but by March 1919 less prominent women held leadership positions in local Volksbund branches all over Germany.14 Nonetheless, the Volksbund’s women largely worked behind the scenes and did not prioritise the organisation of programmes specifically aimed at gaining the attention of German women. The women of the Volksbund were not alone in their desire to hasten the prisoners’ return. By early 1919, the Deutsche Frauenliga zur Heimholung der Kriegsgefangenen (Association of German Women for Prisoner Repatriation) had organised behind the call for immediate prisoner release. Helene Kruse, a Catholic educator and experienced activist from Münster, appears to have been the Frauenliga’ s leading figure.15 Realising that gaining the sympathy of the international community was

11 Wilhelm von Lersner, Gefangenschaft und Heimkehr (Berlin: J. Windloff Verlag, 1919), 3–4, 10. 12 Rose, Krieg nach dem Kriege, 51; Feltman, The Stigma of Surrender, 151. 13 “Bericht über den Volksbund zum Schutze der deutschen Kriegs-und-

Zivilgefangenen,” Tgb. Nr. 28/19, October 21, 1919, GStA PK, I HA. Rep. 1919, Nr. 3866, Appendix 1; “An Unsere Mitglieder!” Mitteilungen des Volksbundes zum Schutze der deutschen Kriegs- und Zivilgefangenen, February 13, 1919, Nr. 6, 1. See also the minutes of the Volksbund’ s board meetings in Bundesarchiv-Militärarchiv, Freiburg im Breisgau (BAMA), MSg 201/749. 14 Volksbund zum Schutze der deutschen Kriegs-und Zivilgefangenen: Landes(Provinzial-), Bezirks-und Ortsgruppen, GStA PK, I HA. Rep. 1919, Nr. 3866. 15 Roswitha Link, “‘Mit ihrem sozial warm empfindenden Herzen’—Die ersten Frauen in Münsters Stadtverordnetenkollegium, 1919 bis 1924,” in Frauenleben in Münster: Ein historisches Lesebuch, ed. Arbeitskreis Frauengeschichte (Münster: Verlag Westfälisches Dampfboot, 1991), 61.

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key to securing prisoner release, the Frauenliga reached out to the first lady of the United States, Edith Wilson, in February 1919. In a letter that drew attention to the “heartbreak” of millions of German women, a Frauenliga representative painted a picture of German prisoners reaching out to their mothers and children and informed the first lady that the prisoners’ “cries for help ring in our ears every hour. Their tear-filled eyes follow us day and night, but we cannot help.” With few possibilities to relieve the prisoner’s suffering, the Frauenliga claimed to be preparing for a women’s crusade “through the gates of France” to bring their “unfortunate children and husbands home.” The Frauenliga contended that although the plan may have seemed unfeasible, there was “no path too far, no mountain too steep, no obstacle insurmountable” for a determined mother or wife. The letter appealed to the first lady “as a Christian woman” and asked that she convince her husband, US president Woodrow Wilson, of the need to release Germany’s sons in the name of humanity, as his words held the power to set them free. In return, millions of German women would be eternally grateful to the American people.16 The following month, the Frauenliga in Münster contacted Supreme Allied Military Commander Ferdinand Foch of France to ask that he use his influence to hasten prisoner repatriation. The Frauenliga had reason to be optimistic. By February 1919, maternalist organisations in France had demanded the release of France’s German prisoners.17 As French soldiers began demobilisation, the presence of German workers complicated an already strained labour market.18 The Frauenliga’s letter reminded Foch that German women bore no responsibility for the war and asked the French military commander to recall his memories of his own mother when he contemplated the German prisoners’ fate. The organisation insisted that its members reached out to him as mothers, wives, daughters, fiancées and sisters who had no interest in peace terms or war aims. The women of Münster implored Foch to look beyond the

16 Frau Sanitätsrat Dr. Schmüderrich, Die deutsche Frauenliga zur Heimholung der Kriegsgefangenen, Recklinghausen-Herten, to the Mitglieder der interalliierten Unterkommission für Kriegsgefangenen, in Papst von Ohain, Kriegsministerium, to the Deutsche Waffenstillstandskommission, Unterkommission für Kriegsgefangene, Spa, Belgium, February 18, 1919, BAMA, RM 20/507. 17 Mona L. Siegel, The Moral Disarmament of France: Education, Pacifism, and Patriotism, 1914–1940 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 118. 18 Greenhalgh, The French Army, 372–375.

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anger and tension of the post-war environment and “listen to the voice of humanity so as to not drive tortured women to extremes.” How, they asked, would history judge him should he continue to withhold prisoners when he had the opportunity to “restore thousands of women’s homes, happiness, and families” and erase their “agonizing uncertainty?”19 The Frauenliga’s tactic separated prisoner repatriation from peace proceedings or discussions of war guilt. If Foch was unwilling to call for the release of prisoners who had fought the war, the Frauenliga reasoned, perhaps he would do so for the sake of the women and children who suffered because of their continued captivity. Ultimately, the Volksbund and Frauenliga’s early attempts to force prisoner release were unsuccessful.20 When the Treaty of Versailles was signed on June 28, 1919, Germans recoiled at what they perceived to be an unjust peace settlement that placed blame for the war’s outbreak squarely on German shoulders. Yet families of prisoners of war expressed relief that their loved ones would finally return home after months of post-war uncertainty. These hopes were quickly dashed when the Allies announced that prisoner repatriation would begin only after the Treaty’s formal ratification. British and American representatives were prepared to begin sending prisoners home in the wake of the Versailles Peace Conference, but the French sought to use prisoner labour for the reclamation of former battlefields as long as possible.21 The German home front felt betrayed by the Allies’ approach to prisoner repatriation, and efforts to force the prisoners’ release intensified as the signing of the Versailles Peace Treaty brought little cause for optimism.

19 Document Nr. 3438, Enclosure, Letter, Deutsche Frauenliga zur Heimholung der Kriegsgefangenen, Münster, to Marshall Ferdinand Foch, March 30, 1919, Kritische Online-Edition der Nuntiaturberichte Eugenio Pacellis (1917–1929), accessed June 2, 2019, http://www.pacelli-edition.de/dokument.html?idno=3438. 20 The chapters by Frank Jacob and Onianwa Oluchuchukwu Ignatus in this collection similarly show that if the captors are unwilling to release their captives, there is not much those demanding their release can do. 21 Richard B. Speed, Prisoners, Diplomats, and the Great War: A Study of the Diplomacy of Captivity (New York: Greenwood, 1990), 178–179.

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Prisoner Advocacy After the Treaty of Versailles For the Volksbund, the Allied refusal to repatriate German prisoners following Versailles represented a moment of crisis that was to be met with renewed energy and new strategies.22 To play a larger role in the campaign to bring the prisoners home, Sister Monika, who had served on the Volksbund’s board since January 1919, successfully lobbied for the foundation of a separate women’s association, the Bund deutscher Frauen zur Befreiung der Gefangenen (German Women’s League for Prisoner Release) in July 1919. Calling for the solidarity of women in all humanitarian matters, the Bund deutscher Frauen worked closely with the Volksbund and had a membership of nearly one million at the time of its founding.23 Led by Sister Monika, the Bund deutscher Frauen maintained a staff of five personnel and received operational funding from the Volksbund. It was tasked with corresponding with local branches and preparing articles for the Volksbund’s newsletter, Mitteilungen des Volksbundes zum Schutze der deutschen Kriegs- und Zivilgefangenen. Most importantly, Sister Monika’s division was responsible for garnering sympathy for prisoners of war and their families in neutral countries.24 In its communications with neutral organisations, the Bund adopted a tactic that been employed earlier by the Frauenliga. It presented itself as a group of wives and mothers, rather than political activists, and sought to “shake the conscience and hearts” of other women.25 The Bund had faith that “the love of wives and mothers is everywhere the same and everywhere the same language of the heart is spoken.”26 Aside from creating a subsidiary

22 Sister Monika, “Rückblick und Ausblick,” Mitteilungen des Volksbundes zum Schutze der deutschen Kriegs —und Zivilgefangenen (hereafter Mitteilungen), Nr. 34, December 20, 1920, 3. 23 Sister Monika et al., “Gründung des Bundes deutscher Frauen zur Befreiung der Gefangenen,” Mitteilungen, No. 30, August 8, 1919, 3; “Bericht über die Besprechung des Vorstandes am 22 August 1919,” BAMA, MSg 201/749. 24 Rose, Krieg nach dem Krieg, 51; “Organisations Plan: Volksbund zum Schutze der deutschen Kriegs-Zivilgefangenen,” GStA PK, I HA. Rep. 1919, Nr. 3866. 25 Sister Monika et al., “Gründung des Bundes deutscher Frauen zur Befreiung der Gefangenen,” 3. 26 Sister Monika, “Rückblick und Ausblick,” 3.

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women’s organisation, the Volksbund also had agreed to add a second woman to its executive board by August 1919.27 The Bund deutscher Frauen was increasingly focused on an international audience, but its work began at home. In August 1919, it sent an open letter to Friedrich Ebert, the president of the embryonic Weimar Republic. The letter demanded that he raise his voice on the prisoners’ behalf so that it might be heard in the United States, Britain, Italy and all foreign corners of the earth.28 Ebert later read the letter during an international radio broadcast to draw global attention to the women’s cause.29 Additionally, he drafted a private response in which he assured the Bund’ s members that his “heart was set” on resolving the repatriation issue. He pledged that the government would devote more resources to the matter and acknowledged the need to press the issue with the Entente and neutral powers.30 The Bund also spoke directly with government representatives. It sent envoys to Weimar to facilitate discussions with members of the German National Assembly and arranged an official meeting between 50 Bund members and Ebert’s cabinet. The meeting seemed to have been a success. German Chancellor Gustav Bauer pledged to allow a women’s delegation to visit Versailles to press the Allies on prisoner release. Even if the trip never materialised, the women’s interaction with officials suggests that the German government recognised the Bund as a legitimate movement capable of wielding significant influence.31

27 “Bericht über die Besprechung des Vorstandes am 22. August 1919,” BAMA, MSg 201/749; “Besprechung des Vorstandes am 29.11.19,” BAMA, MSg 201/749. The size of the Volksbund’s board fluctuated, but it generally consisted of around a dozen members. Despite the incorporation of additional women to its board, the Volksbund’s leadership remained male-dominated. 28 “Bund Deutscher Frauen zur Befreiung der Gefangenen Tätigkeitsberich—Offener Brief an Ebert—Telegrammen den Sozialistenkongress Luzern,” Mitteilungen, No. 31, August 15, 1919, 4. 29 Rose, Krieg nach dem Krieg, 161. 30 Friedrich Ebert, Schwarzburg, to the Bund deutscher Frauen zur Befreiung der

Gefangenen, August 16, 1919, Bundesarchiv Berlin-Lichterfelde (BABL), R 901/86444. 31 Rose, Krieg nach dem Krieg, 161; “Die Frauen an die Front,” Mitteilungen, No. 32, August 22, 1919, 2.

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At Home and Abroad: Gaining the Support of the International Community Following its work in Weimar, the Bund intensified efforts to create international interest in prisoner repatriation by building upon contacts made while lobbying the German National Assembly. Stressing that the “dead letters and paper that we have relied on to reach the people of other countries must disappear, as they have not done their jobs,” the Bund called all “Women to the Front!”32 The response was impressive. While in Weimar the Bund had met with the American Women’s League and the American Red Cross, and its leadership believed that pressure from American women could be particularly helpful to its cause.33 Frau Übermaier of the southern Bavarian branch solicited assistance from the American social worker and peace activist Jane Addams, assuring her that her name was respected among German wives and mothers and was, therefore, an important tool for their movement. Wondering how “freedom loving Americans” could fail to act on behalf of the German prisoners in France, Übermaier asked Addams to “raise her important voice” in the name of justice.34 In addition, the Volksbund commissioned a postcard that appears to have been designed for an American audience. The postcard featured a Karl Bröger poem entitled “to the Spirit of Abraham Lincoln” that called on the former American president to rise from his grave and stop the enslavement of the 800,000 German prisoners of war who remained abroad.35 The poem reflected the Volksbund’s belief that the use of prisoners of war for the clearing of dangerous former battlefields amounted to slavery.36 Bröger’s poem declared that the German prisoners of war, “far from home and hearth,” were being dehumanised and deprived of their rights. The accompanying illustration depicted two women in 32 “Die Frauen an die Front,” Mitteilungen, Nr. 32, August 22, 1919, 2. 33 Sister Monika, “Bund deutscher Frauen zur Befreiung der Gefangenen,”

Mitteilungen, Nr. 35, September 12, 1919, 3. 34 Quoted in Anja Schüler, Frauenbewegung und soziale Reform: Jane Addams und Alice Salomon im transatlantischen Dialog, 1889–1933 (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag, 2004), 179. 35 Volksbund zum Schutze der deutschen Kriegs- und Zivilgefangenen, Illustrated Postcard, “An den Geist Abraham Lincolns!” GStA PK, I HA. Rep. 1919, Nr. 3866. 36 Feltman, The Stigma of Surrender, 152.

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mourning attire, one weeping while the other reaches out to an image of Lincoln that emerges from a clouded sky. Text on the reverse side of the postcard informs recipients unfamiliar with American history that Lincoln had ended slavery in North America.37 Lincoln’s image represented the American people and the Volksbund’s hope that a nation that had fought a bloody conflict over slavery, yet emerged as a people who often spoke of democracy and humanity, would choose to end the forced labour of the German prisoners. The extent to which the Bund deutscher Frauen influenced the design of the Lincoln postcard is unknown, but its theme paralleled the Bund’s strategy. Although Bröger’s poem mentioned the dehumanisation and anguish of the German prisoners, the imagery focused on the suffering of the innocent women who were denied the homecoming of their husbands, sons, and brothers (Image 3.1). The Lincoln postcard was one of several that featured the theme of prisoners’ distance from their families, as the Volksbund relied heavily upon images of children separated from their captive fathers to elicit support at home and abroad. The Volksbund likewise turned to Käthe Kollwitz, the most recognisable chronicler of women’s and children’s wartime suffering, to create one of its most powerful campaign posters. The poster depicted a weary prisoner reaching for freedom through a set of iron bars. Kollwitz was one of the war’s most influential artists, but she was also a grieving mother. Her son Peter had fallen in October 1914 while serving in Belgium.38 By casting themselves in traditional roles of wives and mothers, the Bund deutscher Frauen’s members portrayed themselves as less threatening than political agitators and garnered the sympathy of German representatives and the international community. The strategy simultaneously softened perceptions of the Volksbund. The Bund deutscher Frauen’s efforts to garner international attention were not in vain. In August 1919, American newspapers covered a women’s demonstration in support of repatriation that began at the Berliner Philharmonic and ended with an attempt to storm the German chancellery. An Associated Press (AP) story reported that “women screamed, some tore at their hair, and others fainted” during the unruly 37 “An den Geist Abraham Lincolns!” GStA PK, I HA. Rep. 1919, Nr. 3866. 38 See Brian K. Feltman, “Images of Despair: Artistic Representation and Popular

Perceptions of German Prisoners of War, 1914–1919,” in Erster Weltkrieg: Globaler Konflikt —Lokale Folgen, Neue Perspektiven, eds. Stefan Karner and Philipp Lesiak (Innsbruck: Studienverlag, 2014), 355–370.

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Image 3.1 R. Sohn, “To the Spirit of Abraham Lincoln,” 1919

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demonstration. The women gave the soldiers guarding the chancellery a “tongue-lashing” and had to be driven away by police.39 Coverage of the demonstration shows that the women’s activities were followed outside Europe, and it also reveals tensions within the movement. The Frauenliga had called for a “women’s crusade” to France since early 1919. The AP report claimed that “some of the more excited women proposed a crusade to cross the frontier and bring the prisoners home by force.” The Bund deutscher Frauen’s Sister Monika reportedly defended the government’s repatriation efforts to the crowd, but “her voice was drowned out by those who began shouting that the only solution…was the displacement of the government.” The Volksbund maintained an apolitical stance and advised the German government’s prisoner of war affairs office, the Reichszentralstelle für Kriegs —und Zivilgefangene. It was accordingly careful not to damage its ability to cooperate with government authorities. The AP suggested that Sister Monika represented the moderate, rational branch of the women’s movement while proponents of the crusade to France and regime change were radical and driven by raw emotion.40 As will be seen, strategic and political differences would continue to divide the women’s movement in the following months as well. The signing of the Treaty of Versailles had led to a swell of activity within the Volksbund, including the establishment of the Bund deutscher Frauen. The Deutsche Frauenliga likewise intensified its efforts when it became clear that the treaty included no provision for immediate prisoner repatriation. Pope Benedict XV had been heavily involved in prisoner of war relief from 1914–1918, and he spoke out on behalf of the German prisoners shortly after war’s end.41 In January 1919, Woodrow Wilson became the first sitting American president to visit the Pope in Rome, and Benedict XV raised repatriation with Wilson during their landmark meeting. German bishops encouraged the Pope to force the hand of the victorious powers, but his efforts were in vain. As a Catholic educator, the

39 Associated Press, “German Women Gather to ask Prisoners’ Return,” Richmond Times-Dispatch, August 16, 1919, 7. Library of Congress, Chronicling America: Historic American Newspapers Database (LOC CA). 40 Associated Press, “German Women Demand Return of Prisoners,” The Kentuckian, August 20, 1919, 8, LOC CA. 41 Popes got involved when it came to the release of war captives fairly frequently throughout the Twentieth Century, see for example Onianwa Oluchuchukwu Ignatus’ chapter in this collection.

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Frauenliga’s Helene Kruse had close ties to influential German Catholics in and around Münster. More than six months after the pope’s meeting with Wilson, the Frauenliga asked Benedict XV to renew his calls for the release of the German prisoners. He acted upon the request and once again pressured the French for the release of their German captives. The Vatican ultimately demanded the commencement of prisoner repatriation on no fewer than 57 occasions.42 Although the French did not begin repatriating prisoners, the Pope’s demand that the German prisoners be released “immediately” led to significant publicity and demonstrated that the international community’s patience with delayed repatriation was wearing thin.43 The Frauenliga and Bund deutscher Frauen coordinated their efforts within their memberships, but other women campaigned for prisoner repatriation without claiming allegiance to any organisation. Even before the signing of the Versailles Peace Treaty, the women of Sonneberg, Germany collected signatures in support of prisoner release. The women claimed that they could not allow the prisoners’ suffering to continue and demanded that their district administrator speak out against the use of prisoner labour in former war zones. Instead, petitioners recommended that unemployed Germans be sent to perform clean-up duties so that prisoners might be released.44 In July 1919, Ms. A. Wachler of Berlin contacted Reich Minister of Finance, Matthias Erzberger “in the name of many mothers and wives” with a similar proposal. She pleaded with Erzberger to insist “with all his energy” that Germany’s sons, who were being treated as slaves despite having committed no crime, be released. Wachler recommended that Erzberger take his case directly to General Foch in Paris and contended that if France required workers, the victorious nation’s needs might be met though the employment of Germany’s considerable population of jobless men. She informed Erzberger that the 42 Friedrich Ritter von Lama, Papst und Kurie in ihrer Politik nach dem Weltkrieg (Illertissen: Verlag der Martinusbuchhandlung Illertissen, 1925), 113–123; James F. Garneau, “Presidents and Popes, Face to Face: From Benedict XV to John Paul II,” U.S. Catholic Historian, 26, no. 4 (Fall 2008): 90–91. 43 R. Leiber, “Die Päpstliche Kriegsfürsorge,” in Stimmen der Zeit: Katholische Monatsschrift für das Geistesleben der Gegenwart, 100 Band (Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder & Co., 1921), 206. 44 Feltman, The Stigma of Surrender, 152; “Protest der Frauen gegen unsere armen Kriegs-Gefangenen im Feindesland,” Addressed to the Landrat in Sonneberg, March 19, 1919, BABL, R 901/86456.

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prisoners continued to ask what the government was doing to secure their freedom, reminding him that “money does not help them. They want to be free once again.”45 Another Berliner, Else Stahl, publicly called upon German women to speak out against the refusal to repatriate prisoners. Stahl insisted that the clause of the Versailles Treaty that allowed for prisoner retention was not receiving adequate attention. She argued that the prisoners were essential to building a new Germany and using a familiar rallying cry, Stahl demanded that women with husbands and sons in captivity “reach out their hands” and “raise their voices” with the demand that the Entente “give us back our husbands and sons.” Stahl was preparing a petition, and she requested that any women who shared her view deliver their signatures to her in Berlin via post.46 It is unclear how many signatures Stahl collected, but many German women agreed with the spirit of her petition. On August 21, the wives of German prisoners of war interrupted a provincial government assembly in Greiz. The Thuringian women publicly proclaimed that the “federal government had hitherto not done everything in its power to make the prisoners’ homecoming possible.” They insisted that local officials press the federal government for action, but repatriation was not their only concern. Along with voicing their longing to reunite with their husbands, the women of Greiz demanded an increase to the monthly financial support given to prisoners’ wives or a one-time disbursement of 200–300 Marks. As far as the prisoners’ wives were concerned, the lack of action suggested that officials had an interest in delaying the prisoners’ return. The demonstration made an impression. The following day, a representative described the “impressive demonstration” to the German chancellor and asked to be brought up to speed on what had done on the prisoners’ behalf so that he might apprise their wives, who awaited further information.47

45 Frau A. Wachler, Berlin, to Reichsminister Erzberger, Berlin, July 27, 1919, BABL, R 904/96. 46 Else Stahl, “Aufruf! An alle deutschen Frauen,” BABL, R 901/86453. 47 Landesregierung, Greiz to the Reichskanzler, Berlin, August 22, 1919, BABL, R

901/86458.

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Seizing the Momentum: The Campaign for the “Moral Isolation” of France48 The women of Greiz could not have known that their protests were occurring at a decisive moment. By late August, French Prime Minister Georges Clemenceau was no longer able to convince his allies to hold on to their prisoners. The United States and Britain had long sought to begin repatriation, but they were hesitant to stand in opposition to the French position on the issue. Large swaths of French territory, as well as the French population, had been devastated by the war and German occupation. Despite demands from some French women’s groups to begin repatriation, there was accordingly little sympathy in France for the 350,000 German prisoners of war slated to assist in the rebuilding of Northern France. From the French point of view, German prisoners of war were a valuable commodity. Aside from serving as a labour source, they could be used to ensure that Germany ratified the Treaty of Versailles. Since the French believed the Germans had mistreated the prisoners of war in their hands, holding back German prisoners also served as a means of punishing Germany for its wartime transgressions. With the peace treaty signed, though, the British and American public saw little advantage to prisoner retention. British and American authorities began repatriation at the end of August 1919.49 The Bund deutscher Frauen sought to capitalise on the momentum created by the United States and Britain’s break with France by issuing a public call to the women of America. It urged them to “continue to stand in the holy service of philanthropy” by using their influence to secure vessels for transporting the German prisoners of war back home to their families.50 Even if the United States had already agreed to release its prisoners, the Bund recognised that the American

48 The author of the Volksbund’s official history, Gerhard Rose, claimed that one of the overarching aims of the protest movement was the “moral isolation” of the French within the international community. See Rose, Krieg nach dem Kriege, 196. 49 Nachtigal, “The Repatriation and Reception of Returning Prisoners of War,” 174– 175; Heather Jones, Violence against Prisoners of War in the First World War: Britain, France and Germany, 1914–1920 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 259– 260. See also Siegel, Moral Disarmament, 118. 50 Sister Monika, “Bund deutscher Frauen Mitteilungen, Nr. 35, September 12, 1919, 3.

zur

Befreiung

der

Gefangenen,”

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public could yet influence the repatriation of German prisoners held by other powers. As German prisoners returned from British and American camps, German women focused their attention on prisoners remaining in Russian and French captivity. The Frauenliga and Bund deutscher Frauen showed that women were eager to organise on behalf of unrepatriated prisoners and the groups recognised the benefits of coordinating their efforts. In early September 1919, Sister Monika and Wilhelm von Lersner met with the Frauenliga’s board of directors to entertain the possibility of integrating the two organisations. Negotiations stalled quickly, as Sister Monika stressed that such an arrangement could not be discussed until the “Women’s Crusade” was removed from the Frauenliga’s agenda.51 As American coverage of the women’s march on the German chancellery revealed, storming the French frontier to bring the prisoners home was portrayed as a radical scheme associated with those who supported the dissolution of Ebert’s Social Democratic government. Following the August 1919 women’s march from the Berliner Philharmonic to the chancellery, a Bund board member had lamented that the Frauenliga was often confused with the Bund deutscher Frauen, and Sister Monika suggested that announcements be posted in newspapers to clarify that her group “steers clear of all politics.”52 The Volksbund had always identified as apolitical. As board member Paul Peddinghaus started in January 1919, “We follow no one. Whoever wants to assist us is always welcome, regardless of which party he belongs to.”53 Political affiliations were acceptable, so long as they were not intertwined in Volksbund members’ work for prisoners. Accordingly, the organisation was cautious about working with outwardly political groups. The consolidation of the Bund deutscher Frauen and the Frauenliga never transpired. Even so, the groups continued to work independently on behalf of the prisoners. In September 1919, the Frauenliga’s Hamburg branch petitioned Chancellor Gustav Bauer’s cabinet to declare 51 “Bericht über die Besprechung des Vorstandes am 5. September 1919. 12 Uhr,”

BAMA, MSg 201/749. On the relationship between the Volksbund and Reichszentralstelle, see Feltman, The Stigma of Surrender, 151–161. 52 “Bericht über die Besprechung des Vorstandes am 26. August 1919. 12 Uhr,” BAMA MSg 201/749. 53 “Bericht über Vorstandsbesprechung des Volksbundes zum Schutze der deutschen Kriegs und Zivilgefangenen,” January 30, 1919, BAMA MSg 201/749.

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a national day of mourning for the German prisoners who remained in captivity. The cabinet considered such a proclamation imprudent and suggested that the women seek to win support for a day of mourning from the public. In the opinion of Bauer’s cabinet, a grassroots campaign would have a greater impact than an official proclamation.54 The German government had no objection to publicising the prisoners’ dilemma, but representatives were forced to consider how the Allies might interpret their actions. The Volksbund similarly urged the Bund deutscher Frauen to be cautious about how it presented its activities in neutral territories. Programmes could be organised by the Bund, but the chances of success would be far greater it appeared that the initiatives originated with neutral populations and officials.55 The repatriation issue was only one of many problems confronting the German government in 1919. Officials understood that they were powerless to force the French to hand over the remaining prisoners of war. The government understood the extent of Germany’s diplomatic and military weakness, and prisoner advocacy groups had to ensure that their actions not derail other aspects of the peace process.56 The Bund deutscher Frauen nonetheless moved forward with its efforts to influence neutrals. Members Ida Doeltz and Eva Schilling met with Swiss government representatives in Bern in October 1919.57 The Swiss were perhaps more aware of the prisoners’ distress than others. From 1916–1919, Swiss authorities had housed thousands of German, French, and British prisoners whose injuries necessitated their internment by a neutral power.58 The Geneva-based International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) had likewise served on the front lines of prisoner relief by delivering postage, parcels and supplies to prisoners around the globe. Doeltz and Schilling spoke with the ICRC president in Geneva 54 Nr. 68, Kabinettssitzung vom 26. September 1919 [17 Uhr], “Trauertag für die Kriegsgefangenen,” in Akten der Reichskanzlei: Das Kabinett Bauer, 21 Juni 1919 bis 27 März 1920, ed. Karl Dietrich Erdmann (Boppard am Rhein: Harald Boldt Verlag, 1980), 272. 55 “Bericht über die Besprechung des Vorstandes am 26. August 1919. 12 Uhr.,” BAMA MSg 201/749. 56 See also Feltman, The Stigma of Surrender, 151–160. 57 “Bund Deutscher Frauen zur Befreiung der Gefangenen,” Mitteilungen, Nr. 41,

October 24, 1919, 6. 58 Feltman, The Stigma of Surrender, 66–68.

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and used the opportunity to point out France’s retention of prisoners despite its allies’ plans for repatriation. Doeltz reminded the ICRC president that families with relatives in France felt hopeless as another winter approached. She pleaded with him to appreciate the urgency of the situation and shout his concerns “to the heavens.”59 Swedish authorities had also played a prominent role in prisoner affairs. The future German Chancellor Prince Max von Baden used his connections with the Swedish royal family to facilitate negotiations involving prisoners held in Russia, and Sweden had hosted the 1915 Stockholm Conference, which led to the development of protocols for improved prisoner treatment.60 Bund representatives visited Swedish Red Cross officials and members of the royal family in Stockholm in October 1919. In the wake of the visit, the Crown Princess reportedly sent a telegram to the United States and several Swedish women wrote to the United States, Japan and Britain in support of prisoner release. The Bund believed that the journey to Sweden had been an unqualified success. As the Volksbund’s newspaper Mitteilungen reported: “The women in neutral Sweden consider it a duty of conscience to appeal to those who have the power, and surely the will, to help” the unrepatriated German prisoners of war.61 Although thousands of German prisoners remained in Russia, the Bund was intently focused on the “moral isolation” of France.62 With the dissolution of the Russian empire, ongoing civil war and Soviet attempts to indoctrinate prisoners prior to their release, the repatriation of prisoners from Russia was a complex manner.63 A November 1919 article in the Volksbund’s newsletter declared that France’s retention of German prisoners had “murdered the souls” of German wives and mothers. How, the article asked, was a woman to carry on when she hears nothing from her husband for months and then reads that hundreds have perished in the 59 “Bund Deutscher Frauen zur Befreiung der Gefangenen,” Mitteilungen, Nr. 41, October 24, 1919, 6. 60 Prinz Max von Baden, Erinnerungen und Dokumente, eds. Golo Mann and Andreas Burkhardt (Stuttgart: Klett Verlag, 1968), 76–85. 61 “Bericht unserer nach Schweden gesandten Vertreterin,” Mitteilungen, Nr. 42, October 31, 1919, 2; “Bund deutscher Frauen zur Befreiung der Gefangenen,” Mitteilungen, Nr. 43, November 7, 1919, 7. 62 Rose, Krieg nach dem Kriege, 196. 63 Nachtigal, “The Repatriation and Reception of Returning Prisoners of War, 1918–

1922,” 171–172.

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camp where he is reported to be held? When faced with these uncertainties, a woman could only assume that perhaps they “are already a widow and don’t know it” and will only find out later that “their dear husband rests in the cold earth.” Highlighting the sympathy already garnered among wives and mothers in neutral countries, the Bund closed by calling on German women to go out and tell the world about the pain that France was inflicting on German women.64 As Bund representatives travelled abroad to spread awareness of the hardship caused by the German prisoners’ continued captivity in France, activity continued in Germany as well. The Volksbund held mass demonstrations at twelve locations around Berlin in November 1919, and the Bund deutscher Frauen played a key organisational role. Speakers at a demonstration at the Volksbühne (People’s Theatre) in central Berlin argued that women of all social classes shouldered the burden of securing the prisoners’ release. Hoping to reach a larger international audience, speaker Johanna Terwin addressed the crowd with confidence that her words would find their way to mothers and wives abroad when she asked the “women of the world” to open their hearts in support of repatriation.65 Although not identified as such in the Bund’s protest report, Terwin was a prominent German stage and film actress. Her foreign-born fiancé and future husband Alexander Moissi, a star of film and stage in his own right, had proudly volunteered for the Prussian army in 1914 to prove his German loyalty. In September 1915, he was taken prisoner by British troops and spent more than a year in captivity before being interned in Switzerland.66 As a prisoner’s fiancée, Terwin understood the insecurity, helplessness, and fear that the wives and mothers of prisoners faced daily. Her celebrity and international connections made her an ideal spokesperson for the Bund’s programme. As Terwin spoke, France was facing increasing international pressure to allow its more than 300,000 German prisoners to return to their families. In December 1919, Bund members attended an international women’s conference at The Hague. The delegates in attendance signed a letter 64 Sister Monika, “Der Seelenmord an Müttern und Frauen,” Mitteilungen, Nr. 44, November 14, 1919, 7. 65 Sister Monika, “Frauenkundgebung, Thema: Seelenmord an unseren Gefangenen,” Mitteilungen, Nr. 45, November 21, 1919, 2. 66 Konstanze Heininger, “Alexander Moissi: Profil einer Schauspielerpersönlichkeit” (MA Thesis, Ludwig-Maximilians-Universität München, 2005), 66.

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of support for the Bund’s demand that the remaining prisoners be sent home. Shortly thereafter, Swiss officials expressed their belief that the time for repatriation had come. Their proclamations were followed by demonstrations of support in Italy, Denmark, Norway and Sweden.67 Pope Benedict XV demanded that the German prisoners be released by Christmas 1919, and when repatriation did not transpire, he issued a second call for action. As the Volksbund’s historian, Gerhard Rose, noted, it was at this point that the “Bund deutscher Frauen’s tireless work abroad bore abundant fruit.”68 In his 1919 annual review, von Lersner recounted the Volksbund’s successes and acknowledged that the Bund deutscher Frauen had brought Germany’s wives and mothers together and, because of their work with the Volksbund, contributed to “getting the stone rolling.” Von Lersner pointed out that the Bund had grown from the Volksbund’s organisational structure, thus taking some credit for the women’s success, but he nonetheless recognised that the Bund had been indispensable to the fight for repatriation. He contended that the women’s work had produced sympathy among the neutral powers and created a moment in which the French had little choice but to hand over the Germans under their watch.69 German prisoner advocates were attempting to “morally isolate” the French, and their efforts finally paid off in January 1920.70 With the repatriation question becoming an international public relations problem, on January 10, 1920, French Prime Minister Georges Clemenceau announced his intention to begin the general repatriation of the German prisoners of war.71 The Volksbund was confident that the Bund Deutscher Frauen’s efforts to foster international sympathy were largely responsible for the development. Following Clemenceau’s proclamation, the Bund claimed victory and recounted their successes abroad to Mitteilungen readers, declaring “The mother and woman’s heart has once again proven itself; there are no limits to pure human compassion. The Bund deutscher

67 Rose, Krieg nach dem Kriege, 196; “Von der Arbeit der Frauen,” Mitteilungen, Nr. 46, November 28, 1919, 2. 68 Rose, Krieg nach dem Kriege, 195–199, quoted here: 195. 69 Freiherr von Lersner, “Ein Jahr Volksbund,” Mitteilungen, Nr. 49, December 19,

1919, 2. 70 Rose, Krieg nach dem Kriege, 196. 71 Ibid., 195–199.

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Frauen’s work abroad has proved this.”72 With most German prisoners of war heading home by early 1920, the Volksbund disbanded with the assurance that advocacy for former prisoners would continue in the hands of the Reichsvereinigung ehemaliger Kriegsgefangener (Reich Association of Former Prisoners of War). Sister Monika realised that international pressure had contributed to the final release of the German prisoners. In the final edition of Mitteilungen, she thanked the international array of women who fought for prisoner release and assured them that their work had an even greater significance. Rest assured, she concluded, that “you too have contributed bricks to the great rebuilding of the world.”73

Conclusions Despite the unprecedented number of soldiers who fell into enemy hands from 1914–1918, scholarship on prisoners of war has occupied the margins of the First World War’s historiography until quite recently. As scholars have devoted more attention to the study of wartime captivity in the last decade, it has become clear that captivity was a multidimensional experience that did not always end when the guns of the battlefield fell silent. Analyses of repatriation, and delayed repatriation, are essential to understanding how surrender and captivity affected prisoners of war and their dependents on the home front. The campaign to bring the German prisoners of war home following the signing of the Treaty of Versailles carried high political, social and economic stakes. During peace proceedings, prisoners of war were often lost in discussions of war guilt, reparations, territorial loss and German war crimes. For many leaders and average citizens of the victorious powers, it was difficult to see the German prisoners of war as anything other than enemies who had been portrayed as boorish Huns for years. Many of the leading prisoner advocates, including Wilhelm von Lersner, had participated in the war.74 Their status as veterans impeded their effectiveness in the new battle for repatriation. As former combatants, veterans were entangled in memories of 72 “Von der Auslandsarbeit des Bundes deutscher Frauen zur Befreiung der Gefangenen,” Mitteilungen, Nr. 3, January 16, 1920, 2. 73 Schwester Monika, “Rückblick und Ausblick (Sect. 2, Bund Deutscher Frauen),” Mitteilungen, Nr. 34, December 20, 1920, 3. 74 Of the nine original members of the Volksbund’s executive board, six had been interned as military or civilian prisoners. Rose, Krieg nach dem Kriege, 51.

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the horrors of the front. Through their grassroots campaigns, though, German women convinced the international community to view German prisoners of war as husbands, fathers and sons awaiting a reunion with their families rather than militaristic Huns. German women played a critical role in drawing international attention to prisoner repatriation and encouraging German leaders to see the recovery of their captive sons as a national priority. Women prisoner advocates relied upon many of the same techniques that had given them a political voice during the war, such as letter writing and organising public protests. By presenting themselves as mothers and wives, not political activists, they managed to find common ground with the international community. The women of the Bund deutscher Frauen and Frauenliga put their faith in the belief that understandings of a mother’s or wife’s love transcended national borders. The leaders of post-war Germany were in no position to issue an ultimatum on prisoner repatriation. The ultimate release of France’s German prisoners transpired as a result of numerous factors. France’s American and British allies heightened expectations when they initiated prisoner release in August 1919. By 24 October, the French had declared the official end of hostilities, and the demobilisation of French troops had concluded by November.75 In light of these developments, it was no longer possible for French authorities to claim that they feared a return to the battlefield. Pressure from the international community may not have forced France’s hand, but it provided a consistent reminder that observers around the globe expected the French people to demonstrate their humanity by allowing German families to reunite. Expressions of support for repatriation were won by the German women who called upon their neutral counterparts to end the suffering of prisoners and their families. Whether attempting to storm the German chancellery, speaking with German officials, or travelling abroad to gain international assistance, women prisoner advocates refused to be ignored. Their contribution to the process of “morally isolating”76 the French undoubtedly hastened the return of the last German prisoners.

75 Greenhalgh, The French Army, 374–375. 76 Ibid., 196.

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References Archival Sources Bundesarchiv Berlin-Lichterfelde, R 901/86453, R 901/86456, R 901/86444, R 901/86458, R 904/96. Bundesarchiv-Militärarchiv, Freiburg im Breisgau. MSg 201/749, RM 20/507. Geheimes Staatsarchiv Preußischer Kulturbesitz. I HA. Rep. 1919.

Literature Associated Press. 1919. German Women Demand Return of Prisoners. The Kentuckian. August 20. Associated Press. 1919. German Women Gather to ask Prisoners’ Return. Richmond Times-Dispatch. August 16. Baden, Prinz Max von. 1968. Erinnerungen und Dokumente, eds. Golo Mann and Andreas Burkhardt. Stuttgart: Klett Verlag. Daniel, Ute. 1997. The War From Within: German Working-Class Women in the First World War. Oxford: Berg. Davis, Belinda J. 2000. Home Fires Burning: Food, Politics, and Everyday Life in World War I Berlin. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press. Erdmann, Karl Dietrich, ed. 1980. Akten der Reichskanzlei: Das Kabinett Bauer, 21 Juni 1919 bis 27 März 1920. Boppard am Rhein: Harald Boldt Verlag. Feltman, Brian K. 2014. Images of Despair: Artistic Representation and Popular Perceptions of German Prisoners of War, 1914–1919. In Erster Weltkrieg: Globaler Konflikt—Lokale Folgen, Neue Perspektiven, eds. Stefan Karner and Philipp Lesiak, 355–370. Innsbruck: Studienverlag. Feltman, Brian K. 2015. The Stigma of Surrender: German Prisoners, British Captors, and Manhood in the Great War and Beyond. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press. Frevert, Ute. 1989. Women in German History: From Bourgeois Emancipation to Sexual Liberation. Oxford: Berg. Garneau, James F. 2008. Presidents and Popes, Face to Face: From Benedict XV to John Paul II. U.S. Catholic Historian 26, 89–106. Greenhalgh, Elizabeth. 2014. The French Army and the First World War. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Heininger, Konstanze. 2005. “Alexander Moissi: Profil einer Schauspielerpersönlichkeit.” MA Thesis, Ludwig-Maximilians-Universität München. Hinz, Uta. 2006. Humanität im Krieg? Internationales Rotes Kreuz und Kriegsgefangenenhilfe im Ersten Weltkrieg. In Kriegsgefangene im Europa des Ersten Weltkriegs, ed. Jochen Oltmer, 216–238. Paderborn: Schöningh.

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Jones, Heather. 2011. Violence against Prisoners of War in the First World War: Britain, France and Germany, 1914–1920. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Kritische Online-Edition der Nuntiaturberichte Eugenio Pacellis (1917–1929). 2010. http://pacelli-edition.de/index.html. Accessed June 2, 2019. Kuhlman, Erica. 2012. Of Little Comfort, War Widows, Fallen Soldiers, and the Remaking of the Nation after the Great War. New York: New York University Press. Lama, Friedrich Ritter von. 1925. Papst und Kurie in ihrer Politik nach dem Weltkrieg. Illertissen: Verlag der Martinusbuchhandlung Illertissen. Leiber, R. 1921. Die Päpstliche Kriegsfürsorgerin. Stimmen der Zeit: Katholische Monatschrift für das Geistesleben der Gegenwart. Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder & Co. Lersner, Wilhelm von. 1919. Ein Jahr Volksbund. Mitteilungen des Volksbundes zum Schutze der deutschen Kriegs—und Zivilgefangenen. December 19. Lersner, Wilhelm von. 1919. Gefangenschaft und Heimkehr. Berlin: J. Windloff Verlag. Link, Roswitha. Mit ihrem sozial warm empfindenden Herzen—Die ersten Frauen in Münsters Stadtverordnetenkollegium, 1919 bis 1924. 1991. In Frauenleben in Münster: Ein historisches Lesebuch, ed. Arbeitskreis Frauengeschichte, 34–64. Münster: Verlag Westfälisches Dampfboot. Nachtigal, Reinhard. 2009. The Repatriation and Reception of Returning Prisoners of War, 1918–1922. In Captivity, Forced Labour and Forced Migration in Europe during the First World War, Matthew Stibbe, ed. 157–184. New York: Routledge. Rose, Gerhard. 1920. Krieg nach dem Kriege: Der Kampf des deutschen Volkes um die Heimkehr seiner Kriegsgefangenen. Dortmund: W. Crüwell. Schüler, Anja. 2004. Frauenbewegung und soziale Reform: Jane Addams und Alice Salomon im transatlantischen Dialog, 1889–1933. Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag. Schulz-Kügler, Schwester Monika. 1919. Bund deutscher Frauen zur Befreiung der Gefangenen. Mitteilungen des Volksbundes zum Schutze der deutschen Kriegs- und Zivilgefangenen. September 12. Schulz-Kügler, Schwester Monika. 1919. Bund deutscher Frauen zur Befreiung der Gefangenen. Mitteilungen des Volksbundes zum Schutze der deutschen Kriegs- und Zivilgefangenen. October 24. Schulz-Kügler, Schwester Monika. 1919. Bund deutscher Frauen zur Befreiung der Gefangenen. Mitteilungen des Volksbundes zum Schutze der deutschen Kriegs- und Zivilgefangenen. November 7. Schulz-Kügler, Schwester Monika. 1919. Der Seelenmord an Müttern und Frauen. Mitteilungen des Volksbundes zum Schutze der deutschen Kriegs—und Zivilgefangenen. November 14.

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Schulz-Kügler, Schwester Monika. 1919. Frauenkundgebung, Thema: Seelenmord an unseren Gefangenen. Mitteilungen des Volksbundes zum Schutze der deutschen Kriegs—und Zivilgefangenen. November 21. Schulz-Kügler, Schwester Monika. 1919. Gründung des “Bundes deutscher Frauen zur Befreiung der Gefangenen.” Mitteilungen des Volksbundes zum Schutze der deutschen Kriegs—und Zivilgefangenen. August 8. Schulz-Kügler, Schwester Monika. 1920. Rückblick und Ausblick. Mitteilungen des Volksbundes zum Schutze der deutschen Kriegs—und Zivilgefangenen. December 20. Siegel, Mona L. 2004. The Moral Disarmament of France: Education, Pacifism, and Patriotism, 1914–1940. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Speed, Richard B. 1990. Prisoners, Diplomats, and the Great War: A Study of the Diplomacy of Captivity. New York: Greenwood. Steuer, Kenneth. 2009. Pursuit of an “Unparalleled Opportunity:” The American YMCA and Prisoner of War Diplomacy among the Central Power Nations during World War I, 1914–1923. New York: Columbia University Press. Volksbund zum Schutze der deutschen Kriegs-und-Zivilgefangenen. 1919. An Unsere Mitglieder! Mitteilungen des Volksbundes zum Schutze der deutschen Kriegs—und Zivilgefangenen. February 13. Volksbund zum Schutze der deutschen Kriegs-und-Zivilgefangenen. 1919. Bericht unserer nach Schweden gesandten Vertreterin. Mitteilungen des Volksbundes zum Schutze der deutschen Kriegs—und Zivilgefangenen. October 31. Volksbund zum Schutze der deutschen Kriegs-und-Zivilgefangenen. 1919. Die Frauen an die Front. Mitteilungen des Volksbundes zum Schutze der deutschen Kriegs—und Zivilgefangenen. August 22. Volksbund zum Schutze der deutschen Kriegs-und-Zivilgefangenen. 1919. Von der Arbeit der Frauen. Mitteilungen des Volksbundes zum Schutze der deutschen Kriegs—und Zivilgefangenen. November 28. Volksbund zum Schutze der deutschen Kriegs-und-Zivilgefangenen. 1920. Von der Auslandsarbeit des Bundes deutscher Frauen zur Befreiung der Gefangenen. Mitteilungen des Volksbundes zum Schutze der deutschen Kriegs—und Zivilgefangenen. January 16. Whalen, Robert Weldon. 1984. Bitter Wounds: German Victims of the Great War, 1914–1939. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.

CHAPTER 4

An Uneasy Balance: International Relief Efforts in the Chaco War Robert Niebuhr

The Chaco War (1932–1935) pitted two of South America’s poorest and most diplomatically isolated states in a hapless campaign of devastation for nearly three years. The war was a dramatic event for the peoples of Bolivia and Paraguay, whereby diverse sectors of society united under the banner of government-led mobilisation. In Bolivia, nearly 10% of the total population served in uniform during the conflict, which included urban students, unionised workers, miners and rural, indigenous men.1 Like the World Wars that served as bookends to the conflict over the Chaco, the fighting was hard. Accounts unveil a misery and sadness that littered the frontlines, including a broad inability to cope with disease,

1 See “Registro” in Museo Histórico Militar “Héroes de la Guerra del Chaco,” Santa Cruz, Bolivia. Also, see “Prisioneros Bolivianos Guerra de Chaco,” Ministerio de Defensa, Instituto de Historia y Museo Militar del Ministerio de Defensa Nacional [IHM], Asunción, Paraguay.

R. Niebuhr (B) Arizona State University, Tempe, AZ, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 M. Berni and T. Cubito (eds.), Captivity in War during the Twentieth Century, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-65095-7_4

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injuries and infections.2 Thousands of Bolivian soldiers fled the front lines as either wilful or unwitting deserters; lost in the scrub brush and difficult terrain, soldiers died of thirst and hunger and some deliberately surrendered in order to survive.3 While the Paraguayan forces were generally better prepared for war, they also faced tremendous suffering and when the fighting finally ended in 1935 both sides were overdue for a ceasefire.4 The level of societal participation needed to prosecute the war, the subsequent increase in government power, and the radical ideologies that emerged at war’s end demands the inclusion of the Chaco War in the broader history of twentieth-century warfare. Additionally, the massive fighting over the Chaco included diverse foreign interests that significantly influenced this history. Despite their broad economic and political weakness, both Bolivia and Paraguay had been expanding and modernising since the turn of the century, thanks in part to growing foreign curiosity. New York financiers in particular came to the region in the 1920s and found people booming with confidence in progressive politics and international institutions.5 Global interests fostered the transformation of Bolivia as cities grew larger and people from across society agitated for greater rights.6 As a result, political leaders began to pay particular attention to outside institutions

2 Augusto Céspedes, El Dictador Suicida: 40 Años de Historia de Bolivia (Santiago de Chile: Editorial Universitaria, 1956), 134. 3 About 10,000 men are considered deserters; for more on this, see James Dunkerley, “The Politics of the Bolivian Army: Institutional Developments to 1935” (PhD diss., Nuffield College, Oxford 1979), 266. 4 See Matthew Hughes, “Logistics and the Chaco War: Bolivia 35,” The Journal of Military History 69, no. 2 (2005): 411–437. forces being better prepared, the fighting was tough at all levels its way into portrayals of the war in award-winning literature such Hijo de hombre (Buenos Aires: Editorial Losada, 1960).

versus Paraguay, 1932– Despite the Paraguayan of society, which made as Augusto Roa Bastos,

5 Overall, the economic influence of the 1920s was profound. See Emily S. Rosenberg, Financial Missionaries to the World: The Politics and Culture of Dollar Diplomacy, 1900– 1930 (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1999). For the Bolivian case in particular, see Robert Niebuhr, “The Road to the Chaco War: Bolivia’s Modernisation in the 1920s,” War & Society 37, no. 2 (2018), 96–107. 6 For example, see Silvia Rivera Cusicanqui, Oppressed But Not Defeated: Peasant Struggles Among the Aymara and Qhechwa in Bolivia, 1900–1980 (Geneva: United Nations Research Institute for Social Development, 1987).

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and sought to engage with new entities.7 Bolivian reformer and politician Daniel S. Bustamante argued in 1920 that justice for the world was possible with the help of figures such as US President Woodrow Wilson and the League of Nations. The world was “overdue” for Wilson and the League, he said, because it was an “undeniable new force” in the fight for fairness.8 Bolivians in particular looked northward for help. Politicians such as President Bautista Saavedra (1921–1925), attempted to link his country’s fate with Washington. When General John J. Pershing toured South America prior to his stewardship of the Tacna-Arica plebiscite commission, he visited La Paz and dined with Saavedra in late December 1924.9 Saavedra’s toasts to the general included assertions that the two countries shared a “common ideal” that centred on dreams of “liberty.” Pershing answered Saavedra’s praises by saying how “inspired by common ideals of liberty and justice, my country looks forward to every opportunity to strengthen the ties of friendship that happily exist between our two peoples.”10 Finally, Saavedra declared his respect for the League of Nations and for the United States as agents promoting “equal rights for all nations” in the “defense of civilization.”11 Bolivian leaders retained a faith in international institutions throughout the 1920s. As part of this external engagement, the government in La Paz was an original signatory to the Geneva Accords of 1929, which included

7 See Bruno Cabanes, The Great War and the Origins of Humanitarianism, 1918–1924 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014). 8 Daniel S. Bustamante, Bolivia: Su Estructura y sus Derechos en el Pacifico (La Paz:

Libreria Editora Arno Hermanos, 1920), 61. 9 For more, see Joe Wilson, The United States, Chile and Peru in the Tacna and Arica Plebiscite (Washington, DC: University Press of America, 1979) and William E. Skuban, Lines in the Sand: Nationalism and Identity on the Peruvian-Chilean Frontier (Albuquerque, NM: University of New Mexico Press, 2007). Finally, a recent survey of the battle between Chile and Peru is explained in Robert Niebuhr, “Economic Conquest of the Pacific: Revisiting the Tacna-Arica Plebiscite,” Journal of World History 30, no. 4 (2019): 471–500. 10 See Speech of President Saavedra in Honor of General Pershing, December 31, 1924; also Reply of General Pershing, Letter, December 31, 1924, Library of Congress [LOC], Washington, D.C., John J. Pershing Papers, 1882–1971. 11 B. Saavedra, Speech, December 31, 1924. LOC, Pershing Papers.

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the regulations governing prisoners of war.12 Books written at the time in Bolivia mirrored this sense of global activity, with the rising Andean republic as an equal partner within the broader international community. For instance, Peruvian writer Federico More charged that the “Yankeeland mandate” of global trade and access to commercialisation should include Bolivia in order to uplift its people and integrate it into the world.13 But faith alone was not enough to harness international actors in the cause of Bolivian development, once war broke out with Paraguay over the Chaco in 1932. As a region, the broader Chaco was considered an inhospitable place, where only Guaracuayan peoples roamed its desert-like terrain.14 Overall, the area was understood as a frontier for both Bolivia and Paraguay, in part because since colonial times the Chaco had been on the margins.15 Therefore, leaders relied on an imagination that saw the Chaco as part of a twentieth-century nation-building process. As they sought to accomplish that, international assistance became a dire necessity; this was true both during and after the war, as the need to care for captives and broker the peace went beyond the abilities of local leaders. The war’s brutal costs in life and treasure, including a combined total of more than 50,000 dead and almost 25,000 prisoners, overwhelmed the capacities of both governments and necessitated significant intervention and involvement of non-governmental groups, international relief, advocacy, and welfare associations, and general attention from the outside world.16 The focus of this chapter is to highlight aspects of this international activity through a descriptive account of events that includes a brief 12 See “No. 2734, Convention relative to the Treatment of Prisoners of War, with Annex,” League of Nations Treaty Series, CXVIII: 1–4 (1931–1932), (Geneva: League of Nations, 1932), 344–411. 13 Federico More, Deberes de Chile, Peru, y Bolivia ante el problema del Pacifico (La Paz: Gonzalez y Medina, 1918), 109. 14 See, James Schofield Saeger, The Chaco Mission Frontier: The Guaycuruan Experience (Tucson: The University of Arizona Press, 2000), 166. 15 Much of the older colonial history is mentioned in larger monographs on the topic; for example, José D. Mesa, Teresa Gisbert, and Carlos D. Mesa Gisbert, Historia de Bolivia (La Paz: Editorial Gisbert Y CIA S.A., 1997), 528–530. Additionally, other articles include, “The Frontier Dispute between Bolivia and Paraguay,” Bulletin of International News 5, no. 12 (1928): 8–10. 16 For a recent treatment of the war, see Bridget Chesterton, ed., The Chaco War: Environment, Ethnicity, and Nationalism (Oxford: Bloomsbury Academic, 2016).

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introduction of the pre-war connections with international bodies and moves to tracing how the war’s extreme logistical demands mandated further international intervention. As a result, this essay is divided into three main sections. First, the chapter will explore aspects of early foreign engagement, with a focus on the resettlement of refugees in the disputed Chaco territory. By 1919, the devastation of the First World War and ongoing conflicts in the former Russian Empire had created a massive refugee problem. As a result, the League of Nations formed the Nansen Commission, charged with resettling peoples displaced by war. By the latter 1920s, this commission became involved in resettling refugees, mainly from Russia, to the greater Chaco region, which lent credence to Paraguayan claims of sovereignty over the area. Second, after the war began, the issue of caring for captives meant that non-governmental help was necessary. In both states, the Catholic Church, the Rotary Club, and the local Red Cross chapters delivered food and medical supplies, in addition to providing other necessities for the prisoners.17 The International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) also had agents who served as inspectors of the prison facilities—a role that both governments took quite seriously, because of the fear that negative attention could sway public opinion in the United States and Europe.18 Caring for prisoners tested both regimes, especially the Paraguayans, who were faced with providing for approximately 20,000 Bolivian prisoners.19 This paper will specifically highlight the plight of the approximately 2,500 Paraguayan prisoners held in Bolivia, in part because the Bolivian captivity regime drew the attention and intervention of non-governmental actors. For

17 A good source on the role of the Catholic Church, including its humanitarian efforts, is found in Archivo del Arzobispado de la Santísima Asunción [AASA], Asunción, Paraguay, Guerra del Chaco 901.9, Tomo 1, 2 and 3. 18 For example, Jauregui Rosquellas, the Director General of Bolivian Propaganda wrote to Bolivian President Tejada Sorzano in August 1935, in which he presented a summary of plans for the future of propaganda. He said that the Bolivian propaganda efforts must generate a positive image of Bolivia abroad and focus on how foreign investment would thrive in the country. Mr. Rosquellas wanted to extend invitations to the “capitalist, industrialist, and simple tourist,” for the benefit of all. See Archivo Nacional de Bolivia [ANB], Sucre, Bolivia, 1935 Presidencia de la Republica–Correspondencia Ministerio de Relaciones Exteriores, PR 0118, Caja 62. 19 For more on the Bolivian experience of captivity, see Robert Niebuhr, “Prisoners of the Chaco: The Bolivian Experience of Captivity” War in History (2019), https://doi. org/10.1177/0968344519842358.

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example, while the ICRC visited both countries, the conditions in Bolivia were especially noteworthy for an overall lack of standards. Ultimately, the peace conference, held in Buenos Aires, Argentina, established a determined objective regarding humanitarian issues through rigorous debate as to the terms of the treaty. Officials consulted prior peace treaties from around the world and hoped that the League of Nations would mediate the dispute over the Chaco.20 One of the more interesting aspects of this debate focused on the prisoners and how they would be repatriated. Argentine military authorities worked with an international cohort to provide medical treatment and facilitate the transit of prisoners across frontiers.21 Although the Bolivian delegates suggested that prisoners could return through the Chaco, via Puerto Casado, the delegates rejected the idea due to the “poor condition of the road, and the difficulties in provisioning water and food for such a large contingent of men.”22 As a result, despite the shared border between Bolivia and Paraguay, nearly all of the prisoners returned via a third country, except in the case of escapees or else of officers who could pay their way.23 Most importantly, though, debate among the conference participants determined that prisoners would have the choice of either being repatriated home, gaining residency in either Brazil or Argentina, or staying in the country of capture.24 Therefore, international influence in the Chaco War

20 See Dispute Between Bolivia and Paraguay: Appeal of the Bolivian Government, The League of Nations Official Journal, Special Supplement No. 124, (Geneva: League of Nations, 1934). 21 On the identification and registration of the prisoners, including the issuance of a “cedula individual” or identification card, and the sanitation concerns along the approved routes, see Archivo de Ministerio de Relacciones Exteriories, Academia Diplomática y Consular “Dr. Carlos Antonio López” [AMRE], Asunción, Paraguay, “Identidad y registro de prisioneros,” “Comisión especial de repatriación,” DPD 182, April 1936. 22 See AMRE, “Identidad y registro de prisioneros,” Comisión especial de repatriación,” DPD 182. 23 See “Instrucciones para los miembros militares ante la comisión especial de repatriación,” AMRE DPD 182. Regarding officers who could pay their way through Puerto Casado, see memo, “Instrucciones para los delegados militaras ante la comisión especial de la conferencia de paz,” DPD 182, Juan Stefanich, March 8, 1936. 24 Few peace treaties allow for captives to choose where they would be repatriated. One contemporary exception dealt with German prisoners held in Japan during the First World War. For that story, see Charles Burdick, The German Prisoners-of -War in Japan, 1914–1920 (Washington, D.C.: University Press of America, 1984).

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shows that outsiders prioritised individual welfare, including the cases of refugee resettlement and the care and repatriation of captives.

Pre-war Activity: From the Red Cross to the Nansen Commission As part of the overall growth of civil society in Bolivia and Paraguay, the 1920s witnessed the expansion of aid societies that went beyond the traditional scope of the local Catholic Church and its welfare programming. From the turn of the century, members of high society increasingly grew concerned with urban welfare and began to form groups that sought to increase access to and the quality of medical care.25 In 1917, teachers from La Liceo de señoritas in La Paz founded the Bolivian Red Cross and by January 1923 the International Committee of the Red Cross formally recognised it as a constituent member. Similarly, social elites in Asunción established the Paraguayan Red Cross in 1919, which was subsequently inducted into the ICRC in March 1922.26 The Bolivian Red Cross consisted of the wives of key leaders, including Julia de Saavedra, wife of Bautista Saavedra, who was named the permanent delegate of the Bolivian Red Cross to the ICRC in Geneva in 1925. It was her belief that she would help “to advance the progress of the Bolivian Red Cross,” thanks to her array of connections.27 Bolivian representation in Geneva continued thereafter and later during the fighting, it served to advocate

25 The Miraflores neighborhood of La Paz grew in the decades prior to the Chaco War, thanks in part to the hospital facility built there. The American College of Surgeons worked with newly established Bolivian equivalent from 1921. For more, see F.H. Martin, South America from a Surgeon’s Point of View (New York: Fleming H. Revell, 1922). 26 See Archive of International Committee of the Red Cross [ICRC], Geneva, Switzerland, Fond CR 00/143 “Paraguay,” Folder 22–29, 28.12.1931, “Copia autentificada del acta No. 28, de la Cruz Roja Paraguaya, del 28 de Diciembre de 1931.” 27 ICRC Fond CR00/10, CR bolivienne, March 15 & 27, 1926, “L/de M. Balcazar

annonçant et nommant sa déléguée permanente auprès du CICR Mme de Saavedra.” Other important Bolivian women had taken the opportunity to advance civil society in the immediate pre-war years in the name of progress; a complete list of names is found in ICRC CR00/10, CR bolivienne, May 12, & 25, 1925, “Circulaire de la CR bolivenne faissant part de la composition du Comité de sa société, élu le 22 mai 1925.”

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for the Bolivian cause and forwarded requests for medicine and sanitary supplies for prisoners.28 Beyond the local establishment of a growing civil society in both Bolivia and Paraguay—enthusing local organisations, as they simultaneously engaged with global actors—the League of Nations played a direct role in influencing the larger Chaco region. The zone had been a contested space since the earliest postcolonial days, but the dispute remained largely academic because few people lived in the Chaco and neither government exerted control there.29 While both states sought colonists for the region, fuelled in part by the idea that new settlers would “defend our sovereignty in the Chaco,” and fill the area with people who were of a “pure patriotism,” these schemes largely failed during the 1920s.30 Because of the unprecedented reach of the First World War, including civilians who found themselves stateless at war’s end, the Chaco grew into a potential region for refugee resettlement.31 The international community spent the 1920s organising the transfer of peoples from across Europe and Asia, especially faced with the physical destruction of multi-national empires during the First World War, and the ideological challenges that resulted. Armenians, Russians, Germans and others were left vulnerable after 1919, and so Fridtjof Nansen became the newfound voice for the political refugees as he took charge of the League’s High Commission for Refugees from 1921 until his death in 1930.

28 ICRC CR182 III, Conflit du Chaco, 301, 8.9.1934, “M. Boisseier retourne le mémorandum (traduction) sur les principales organisations s’étant occupées des PG du Chaco.” In Cochabamba, women working for the Red Cross in July 1934 noted that they passed out 30,000 cigarettes, 8,000 sweaters, 4,000 packages of crackers, and thousands of papers and pens so the men could correspond with their families at home. See “La Cruz Roja de Cochabamba en el Chaco,” La Unión, July 5, 1934, 4. 29 For more on the contest over control, see Mesa, Historia de Bolivia, 528–530. 30 ANB, 1929 Correspondencia Ministerio de Guerra y Colonización, Telégrafo al

Señor Ministro, April 27, 1929. Several of these schemes existed in the 1920s, including by U.S. politician William Murray. See K.L. Bryant, Jr., Alfalfa Bill Murray (Norman, OK: University of Oklahoma Press, 1968). Regarding civilization in the Chaco, see “El Canillita,” Semana Grafica, May 19, 1934, 3. “El Indio forma las tres cuartas partes de la población de Bolivia. Educar al Indio no es—precisa y solamente—darle abecedario sino justicia y dignidad, sobre todo devolviéndole sus tierras.” 31 For more on the treatment of refugees after the First World War, see Mark Strecker, Americans in a Splintering Europe: Refugees, Missionaries and Journalists in World War I (Jefferson, NC: McFarland & Co., 2019).

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Work by Nansen’s office, and its successor organisation, the Nansen International Office for Refugees, included the resettlement of peoples displaced by conflict. By the end of the decade, this work expanded to include the settlement of people to Argentina, Paraguay and the disputed Chaco region itself. Representatives of the Nansen Commission negotiated with private companies and held discussions about the overall condition of the region and for migrants who sought to resettle there.32 Such schemes were not without controversy. Immigrants faced numerous hardships, as evidenced by press reports in 1929 that showed railway companies mistreating newcomers and deceiving them thanks to their lack of proficiency in Spanish.33 Problems like this led Nansen operatives to demand that immigrants have local connections and guarantees. As a result, Dr. Nansen asked British humanitarian Stephen Lawford Childs to “establish relations” with firms in South America regarding settlement plans.34 The decision-making process included concerns that relocated peoples would have economic opportunities and assistance from external authorities, which ruled out areas beyond the Rio de la Plata and the immediate interior.35 Companies such as “La Union,” had plans for larger colonies in the region and hoped to join forces with the Nansen Commission to augment their resettlement programme. Official correspondence spoke of the “most excellent land which produces alfalfa, linseed, and wheat, and is therefore devoted to crops with which the Russians are already familiar.”36 Organisers of “La Union” proposed that they could split the costs of bringing colonists from Europe, to which the Nansen Commission was favourably disposed. Plans for colonist housing were drawn up too and submitted for consideration. These included the floorplans, lists of materials for constructing the structures, as well as basic

32 League of Nations Archival Collection [LON], Geneva, Switzerland, Fond C1454 “International Labour Office,” Rr. 412/8/47/1, “Letter to Mr. Johnson.” Documents like this show that companies solicited the Nansen Commission with requests for refugees who would transport people and guarantee the interest on the sale of land. 33 See LON, C1454, Rr. 412/15/2/1, “Summarized extracts from article in ‘Critica’ (Argentine) on the exploitation of workers in connection with the construction of branch railway from Avia-Terai Metan to Barranqueras,” 1929. 34 LON, C1454, Rr. 412/8/47/1, “Letter to Dr. Nansen,” 1927. 35 LON C1454, Rr. 412/7/9/1, “Memo to M. Labelle,” 1927. Childs toured parts

of Brazil but ruled them out. 36 LON, C1454, Rr. 412/10/2/1, “Memo to Mr. Johnson,” December 12, 1926.

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furniture and housewares, including pots and pans, pillows and towels. Each house and its plan concluded with a cost summary, including labour costs for community amenities such as a well, sanitary stations, and trees, allotted to the colonists.37 “La Union” desired “Orthodox Russian farmers” chosen by the League, and wanted the League to guarantee “interest at 8%” on the capital outlay necessary to start the farming colony.38 Beyond the plans by “La Union,” the resettlement of peoples from across the former Russian Empire continued in the late 1920s, altering the demographic reality of the Chaco. League representatives noted the availability of a “large number of the unemployed agricultural refugee workers” in Europe who were “Cossacks,” described as “hereditary agriculturalists.” Officials in charge of handling refugees described these people as well-disposed to work in Argentina on farming colonies.39 Similarly, Russian refugees present in Czechoslovakia, Bulgaria, and the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats and Slovenes (after 1929, Yugoslavia) also solicited transfer to Paraguay. Russians of various professions requested relocation to Paraguay because some already had family in the region and concrete plans for staking out a livelihood.40 A group of 15 Russians (the Svietlov group) wanted to obtain capital from the League to start a dairy farm in Paraguay, but their plan seemed to have lacked “details” with only an “assurance” that everything “had been properly worked out.” Yet, despite the hesitation, the plan was forwarded to the Paraguayan government for consideration.41 The League’s representatives played an important role in mediating between various government and nongovernment institutions and actors, which advocated for the migration of certain peoples to the broader Chaco. The attention that the League devoted to the region—owing, in part, to the growth of civil society and the petitions from groups that sought to benefit from League policies— helped change the overall demographic reality. With policies that favoured Paraguayan claims over disputed territory, the resettlement of European

37 LON, C1454, Rr. 412/10/2/1, “Memo from Assistant to the Delegate for South America of Refugee Service,” January 19, 1927. 38 LON, C1454, Rr. 412/10/2/1, “Letter from Sociedad Anónima Ganadera y Colonizadora, La Union,” December 27, 1926. 39 LON Rr. 412/16/2/1, “Memo from Chief of Refugee Section,” January 17, 1930. 40 LON Rr. 412/7/47/1, “Letter to Mr. Childs,” November 8, 1927. 41 LON Rr. 412/7/47/1, “Letter to Mr. Johnson,” November 28, 1927.

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refugees factored into new notions of state-building and national identity and added an additional challenge to the ongoing diplomatic row between La Paz and Asuncíon. Perhaps most importantly, the international attention on the Chaco established before the war only grew as a result of hostilities.42

Prisoners of War: From Local Relief Groups to International Aid On July 19, 1932, Bolivian President Daniel Salamanca spoke to the excited crowds that gathered in front of the palace in La Paz to hear him speak.43 As the Bolivians mobilised for war in the subsequent weeks, the high command was determined to seize the initiative and occupy as much territory in the Chaco as possible, especially given their concern to keep up morale.44 The initial goal was to besiege Asunción, thereby forcing an end to the war and imposing conqueror’s terms. As a result, General Hans Kundt relied on massive frontal assaults throughout his tenure as commander of the Bolivian forces.45 Yet, from the beginning the war did not go well for Kundt, and his army instead suffered continual and heavy losses. Realising that the war would continue for some time, leaders in La Paz desperately sought new recruits, which severely taxed government resources. By the middle of 1934, though, the Bolivians faced a new problem, as they began capturing Paraguayan soldiers as the front neared

42 In November 1932 the German Red Cross had demanded the ICRC get involved in

the Chaco conflict as early as 1932 to “protect the Mennonite communities” in the Puerto Casado area, where Bolivian planes had recently bombed. See ICRC CR182 Conflit Bolivie-Paraguay, “Memo from 3 August 1932.” 43 See, for example, “Bolivia begins Paraguay War: Attack on Chaco Fort Told to La Paz Populace,” Los Angeles Times, July, 20, 1932, 7. 44 Bolivian General Hans Kundt was unwilling to seek complete mobilisation even in August 1933; instead, he actually disbanded some units to improve morale, which backfired, especially as the battle for Nanawa intensified and Bolivians suffered continued losses. See Dunkerley, “The Politics of the Bolivian Army: Institutional Developments to 1935,” 238. 45 David Zook, The Conduct of the Chaco War (New York: Bookman Associates, 1960),

148.

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undisputed territory in Bolivia proper.46 The seizure of enemy combatants meant that the Bolivians needed to transfer prisoners away from the front lines and establish an internment regime. The taking of captives occurred alongside a broader retreat that convinced the field commanders to forcibly sack President Salamanca in November 1934, which gave them the opportunity to end fighting and salvage as much territory as possible. Thereafter, the Bolivians fought a defensive campaign with the purpose of entering into a negotiated peace. When the armistice was signed on June 10, 1935, the total number of Paraguayan soldiers and officers captured totalled 2,578.47 Because of a lack of resources, the strain of fighting, and a lack of oversight, these prisoners generally faced conditions of captivity that went contrary to the norms that the Bolivians had agreed to in Geneva back in 1929.48 Three main areas in Bolivia served as centres for holding prisoners: the Yungas area northeast of La Paz, almost 1,000 miles away from the front, Cochabamba in the middle valleys of the Andes, and Sucre. All three areas are at significant elevation: The Yungas sit at about 1,500 metres above sea level, Cochabamba at 2,500 metres, and Sucre at 2,800 metres, while for the sake of comparison, Asunción lies at 43 metres above sea level. Beyond the frigid temperatures at night in the higher altitudes, the Yungas and the Chapare regions of Cochabamba were both tropical and harsher than Paraguay. Two of these camp facilities fell under the wider programme of using prisoner labour to build Bolivian infrastructure projects. First, the prisoners sent to the Yungas largely resumed work on the abandoned road network that sought to join with the city of La Paz.49 831 prisoners laboured in the Yungas region, or about 40 percent of the wartime total.

46 Records of prisoner rolls show Paraguayans as having been captured after the beginning of 1934. Therefore, while the Paraguayan government was faced with thousands of captives from the initial campaigns, the Bolivians never faced such demands of caring for prisoners. See AMRE, DPD 8, “Registro de Prisioneros.” 47 See Archivo de Cancillería, Buenos Aires, Argentina [AdC], Fond Ministerio de rela-

ciones exteriors y culto [MREC], Conferencia de paz del Chaco, Caja 16 “Asesor Militar de la delegacion Argentina,” [Caja 16] “Anexo al acta privada no. 35 del 7.V.1937.” 2,562 were returned of liberated and 16 remained fugitives. 48 See ICRC CR182 Conflit Bolivie-Paraguay, “Copies of News Reports,” 1932. 49 See Eduardo Romecin, “Agricultural Adaptation in Bolivia,” Geographical Review

19, no. 2 (1929), 253.

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These men were divided into five locations, including Coroico, La Forestal, Cajuai, Chulumani and the Chulumani Hospital (16, 92, 131, 563 and 29 inmates, respectively).50 While labour in the tropical Yungas was difficult, the presence of organised barracks, clear plans of development and a hospital to care for the wounded meant that captives there generally did find internationally accepted conditions. Yet, in Sucre, Paraguayan captives lived in a tough situation that sparked complaints by local civil society and drew in international observers. For example, two telegrams from the Paraguayan Colonel Recalde in May 1936 complained of the mistreatment of his fellow officers and soldiers. The first went to the Bolivian Army’s chief of staff in La Paz, asking that the commander of the prison camp in Sucre be relieved of his duties on account of the purported abuses. The second telegram was directed to Colonel Santacruz, the Chilean military observer in La Paz; Recalde told Santacruz that “last night” Bolivian soldiers from the “Sucre” regiment victimised prisoners with corporal punishment, which also included captivity in the “calaboso,” or dark pit. On this basis, he asked the Chilean for “urgent and energetic intervention.”51 Presumably, these telegrams fell on deaf ears. Already before this, local Bolivian organisations had interacted with the Sucre facility and lodged complaints. Representatives from the Bolivian Rotary Club inspected the facility in July 1935 and made requests to the various officers in charge, including Lieutenant Colonel Urriolagioatia and Major Ergueta. Finally, after eight letters over the span of almost a year, the Rotary Club wrote a letter to Bolivian President David Toro (copying-in the clubs in La Paz and Cochabamba), expressing regret over the “embarrassment to the Bolivian culture.” Daily food rations had been a mere 350 grams of chuño (small dried potato), and the men all “lacked shirts,” had leaky tents, and needed beds. Sleeping conditions more generally were horrendous, with 320 prisoners packed into

50 The registry marked the respective locations, finalised in a memo with a map. See AMRE, DPD 8, specifically, “Memo No. 92–36, Major Manuel Inchauste, Ejercito de Bolivia,” May 20, 1936. 51 See AMRE, DPD 8. First, a handwritten note by the highest-ranking Paraguayan officer in the Sucre camp, Eliodoro Caballero, complaining about the conditions (January 23, 1936). Following that were copies of telegrams by Recalde and Santacruz to authorities in La Paz.

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a room “meant for 120” on a bare floor (suelo sin paja). The Rotarians demanded that at least the ill men have the comfort of a bed.52 Civil society in Sucre more generally grew involved with the prisoners’ plight. Church authorities communicated between the combatant countries and sent monies to prisoners, alongside other durable goods, such as sweaters for Paraguayan captives in Sucre. In addition to Church leaders, Maria Pacheco de Marion of Sucre’s Comité Pro-Prisioneros de Guerra, distributed materials.53 In general, the Catholic Church interacted with other agencies such as the Rotary Club and various local groups in addition to direct communications between the clergy, which functioned to deliver information about the status of prisoners in each respective country, especially prior to the beginning of the peace conference.54 Prisoners held in the Cochabamba region were perhaps the most unfortunate of all of the captives and brought forth the most severe rebukes against the prisoner of war regime. A cohort of prisoners based in Cochabamba worked to build roads in the Chapare region, a tropical area that had potential for rich agricultural development.55 Mr. Brozovi´c, a Yugoslav immigrant to Bolivia, had a contract to link the region with the Mamoré River to realise a contiguous shipping connection with the Amazon River. Prisoners here laboured not under the command of the Bolivian government but rather at the discretion of Brozovi´c’s private company. It would be this arrangement that produced the greatest outcry by the international community on behalf of prisoner welfare. Doctors Lucien Cramer and Emmanuel A. Galland of the ICRC toured the region and wrote reports that included their observations on dealing with the Bolivian government on behalf of Paraguayan prisoners.56 Cramer’s tour of the Chapare led to demands that wounded men 52 AMRE, DPD 8, specifically, “Memo No. 92–36, Major Manuel Inchauste, Ejercito de Bolivia,” May 20, 1936. Also see ICRC CR 182 “Conflit du Chaco,” No. 496, “Letter to ICRC in Geneva,” May 1, 1935. This recounted how uniforms sent to Bolivia by the Paraguayan Ministry of Defense were detained in Bolivian customs offices and thus prisoners had neither clothes nor shoes. 53 AASA, Guerra del Chaco, 901.9, Tomo 1, Memo from, May 22, 1935. 54 For more details, see Niebuhr, “Prisoners of the Chaco: The Bolivian Experience of

Captivity.” 55 ICRC CR 182 “Conflit du Chaco,” Lucien Cramer, “Mission au Paraguay et en Bolivie,” 6–7. 56 ICRC CR 182 “Conflit du Chaco,” “Memo from Emmanuel A. Galland,” 28 May 1935.

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should be transferred out of the sweltering heat in order to recover in a proper hospital. The men in the local hospital (called the Panopticum) were directed to remain there for treatment or be moved to a non-labour facility and not returned to work on Brozovi´c’s project. In Bolivia, ICRC representatives like Cramer witnessed treatment that, they claimed, resembled the worst of the First World War. He wrote that what he saw in the Chapare was comparable in terms of death and misery with the treatment of Russian captives by the German Empire in 1918/19.57 This tour and the publicity that followed helped compel the Bolivian government to take charge of the situation and end this work project. This prisoner inspection regime was significant, as both governments attempted to project a certain image to the outside world. Both recognised from the earliest days of the war how powerfully propaganda would play with domestic and foreign actors alike. In 1933, the Paraguayan Ministry of Foreign Affairs sent a memo to the Office for Prisoners of War regarding the upcoming visit to be made by ICRC representatives, Doctors Emmanuel Galland and Rodolfo Talica. The inspectors were scheduled to arrive in Asunción on May 18, 1933, and they proceed to visit areas with concentrations of Bolivian captives. The memo noted that some prisoners, who were “concentrated in the forests” ostensibly on work brigades, laboured in “a terrible state of hygiene and poorly clothed.” If ICRC men had discovered the men labouring in such conditions, this was likely to draw negative attention on Paraguay.58 Sensitive to the public attention of an ICRC inspector, especially in the wake of ongoing complaints at the Sucre facility, the Bolivian Red Cross sought to downplay poor conditions by arguing that the ICRC officials were prejudiced. A late September 1935 memo to the ICRC in Geneva argued that the Bolivians were following the rules and that the international inspectors were “flagrantly biased.”59 The broader exposure of prisoner mistreatment embarrassed the Bolivian government and brought condemnation of such behaviour from the country’s president, José Luis 57 ICRC CR 182 “Conflit du Chaco,” No. 424, “La question des Prisionniers de

Guerre paraguayens du Chapare,” February 3, 1936. 58 See IHM, Memo, May 16, 1933. Ministry of Foreign Affairs. No. 92/933. The same day another memo, No. 93/933, arrived asking for 200 uniforms for the Bolivians to meet the requirements of the Hague Treaty. 59 ICRC CR 182, “Conflit du Chaco,” No. 588, “Memo from Dr. Juan Manuel Balcazar,” September 26, 1935.

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Tejada Sorzano.60 The clear violation of internationally acceptable prisoner conditions silenced prior voices from La Paz, such as Bolivian Dr. Juan Manuel Balcazar, who had wanted an official proclamation from the ICRC in October 1935 that the Paraguayans in Bolivia were in “good health.”61 Similarly, a 1934 memo from Paraguay to the League of Nations made it known that Bolivia’s systematic policy of alleging prisoner mistreatment was meant to mislead an “ill-informed European public opinion.”62 Such news stories included features in the New York Times , in which a story about Bolivian soldiers who had escaped Paraguayan captivity complained that they “were deprived of their clothing and shoes and compelled to go on long marches without food or water and when exhausted were beaten or shot.”63 Press reports and activity surrounding prisoner welfare remained important elements of each country’s propaganda campaign. Concern for prisoner welfare meant that local aid groups and outsiders such as the ICRC took note of the conditions of captivity and argued for the maintenance of internationally accepted norms. Further, one abnormal case during the war highlighted the intersection of local actors and international bodies. The Bolivian Red Cross formally denounced Paraguay’s conduct during the war when authorities discovered an unusual instance whereby the spouse and children of Bolivian soldier Hilario Rojas were taken captive with him. Ultimately, the Bolivian government cabled the ICRC headquarters in Geneva for action.64 The internment of Rojas along with his wife, Eloisa Soruco, and their two children—including the youngest who suffered from paralysis—was inhumane, the Bolivians claimed, and therefore they called for 60 ICRC CR 182, “Conflit du Chaco,” No. 422, “Memorandum,” February 1, 1935. 61 ICRC CR 182, “Conflit du Chaco,” No. 600, No. 81 “Letter from M. de Cham-

brier,” October 23, 1935. Balcazar was a noted Bolivian doctor who wrote widely on healthcare issues in his country, especially considering its continued path of development. See Juan Manuel Balcazar, Historia de la Medicina en Bolivia (La Paz: Ediciones “Juventud,” 1956). 62 See “Dispute Between Bolivia and Paraguay: Communication from the Paraguayan

Representative,” March 6, 1934, C.120.1934.VIII, United Nations Archives, Geneva, accessed September 12, 2019, https://biblio-archive.unog.ch/Dateien/CouncilDocs/C120-1934-VII_EN.pdf. 63 See “Charge Cruelty in Chaco,” New York Times , February 4, 1934, 18. 64 See ANB, Sucre, Bolivia, PR 0118, “Correspondencia Ministerio de Relaciones

Exteriores,” February 14, 1935.

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“immediate liberation.”65 Claims of an opponent’s dereliction of international norms and requests for intervention from non-governmental and international organisations mirrored the recent experience of the First World War. The growth of the ICRC in particular and the participation of its agents in dealing with prisoner welfare continued the trend of outside involvement in modern captivity regimes. The history of the Chaco War is not, then, simply a story of a South American battle over an inhospitable desert, but a war to win international aid and opinion as part of the newly understood environment of justice and equality.

International Peace Conference: Repatriation Efforts The combatants had exhausted themselves during almost three years of fighting and appealed to neighbouring countries and neutrals to help broker a peace accord. A Paraguayan legal decree, Number 1949, from June 11, 1936, “reaffirmed the spirit of peace and fraternity” among South American countries as well as the “sentiments of all Americans the ideals of peace” necessary for peace, justice and law.66 In line with earlier confidence in the power of international institutions, the Bolivian delegate to the Buenos Aires Peace Conference, Carlos Calvo, declared that “Bolivia has absolute and unwavering faith in the labours of the Peace Conference.”67 The executives in charge of repatriation encouraged this faith when they determined that the entire process would be in accordance with international bodies. Any dispute, they said, would be resolved by international courts in The Hague.68 Part of the quest for a fair resolution relied on the territorial division of the region. But this also tested the

65 See ICRC, CR182-5, “Conflit du Chaco,” 452, 5.3.1935, “A.r. a l/de M. Swift (445). Avons fait le necessaire aures de la CR paraguayenne.” The outcome of the case is not clear from documents in various archives. Presumably, the Rojas family were liberated in one of the prisoner exchanges that occurred prior to the formal repatriation. 66 AMRE, DPD 182, Decreto Ley No. 1949, Presidencia de la Republica, June 11, 1936. 67 AMRE DCCP Paz de Chaco 22, “Sesión del día 12 de junio de 1936,” Conferencia de Paz, Act N. 58. 68 AdC MREC, CPdC, No. 19.C83 A91 [No. 19], “La Conferencia de Paz,” 7 (“Responsabilidades”).

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belligerents’ ability in terms of negotiating over prisoners.69 Before any peace talks could begin, both sides agreed to a demobilisation plan that would discourage fighting breaking out again; by July 30, 1935, merely a month after fighting ended, the armies had demobilised 10,815 (Bolivia) and 17,752 (Paraguay) men.70 Those forces continued to decline by the time delegates met to put together the acts of the peace conference on January 21, 1936. One of the first items of business was the request from neighbouring countries to help with the process, which included the transport of men across the frontiers of Argentina and Brazil.71 This was significant in part because nearly 25,000 men were in captivity at war’s end and transporting them home would require a large logistical undertaking that would draw in several international actors. The concern to facilitate the transfer of a significantly sized group of men led the peace conference to create a special commission for the exchange of repatriated prisoners, the Canje de Repatriación, headed by an executive committee. Military officers and diplomats from Chile, Uruguay, Peru, Brazil, the United States of America as well as Bolivia and Paraguay, met as part of this group to discuss the transfer of prisoners. The repatriation effort included a bid to determine the logistics of prisoner transport, following a reliable headcount of the total number of captives. The discussions among executive committee members were varied, but they were clear that they should create and enact rules and procedures to benefit the greatest number of men. Problems arose, however, regarding “the particular, individual detail of each case.”72 One such issue emerging during the repatriation process came up in a meeting where the seasoned American diplomat Spruille Braden wished to 69 AdC MREC, CPdC, No. 19, “Interpretación del protocolo de paz,” October 14,

1935, 1–2. The interpretation of the peace protocol stirred discussion regarding various historical examples and how international law, “Derecho Internacional Público,” was to guide them as a committee moving forward. 70 AdC MREC, CPdC, No. 19, “Secreto: Comisión Militar Neutral, Actas,” Acta No. 25, 59. 71 AdC MREC, CPdC, No. 47. C83 A94, “Acta Protocolizada, 21 January 1936.” Both belligerents agreed “de acuerdo con las autoridades de los respectivos países.” Furthermore, regarding transfer through Corumba, Carlos Calvo from Bolivia argued that only “40 or 50” of the Paraguayan prisoners could take the route through Corumba in Brazil. See AMRE Paz de Chaco DCCP 21, Acta No. 49, Executive Commission, April 24, 1936. 72 AMRE DCCP Paz de Chaco 21, Acta N 31, February 12, 1936.

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settle something “before the Bolivian and Paraguayan” delegates showed up. He referred to stories about communists agitating among returning prisoners in the La Quiaca region. The commission’s abhorrence of communism led it to consider altering the repatriation route, but stopped short of doing more, out of fear of violating Bolivia’s sovereignty.73 Overall, under the leadership of Argentine Lt. Colonel Ernesto Florit, the commission largely succeeded in facilitating the repatriation of prisoners in a prompt and organised fashion and avoided any international disputes or uprisings by prisoners. One of the earliest items of discussion was an examination of historical peace treaties, with special attention on prisoners. Historical examples from as far back as the French Revolutionary Wars informed their management of the upcoming process and they concluded with the idea that the repatriation would occur in “accordance with the customs and principles of international law.”74 While discussions focused on prisoner welfare and sought to ensure that their health rights were respected during the process, the meeting eventually turned to a more unusual topic. The delegates considered allowing the prisoners the choice of being repatriated home or choosing residency in the country of captivity or a third country. Braden spoke to the commission about the unorthodox nature of this aspect of the deliberations. Yet, it was clear from the wartime years that legitimate reasons existed for some soldiers to reject repatriation back home. Anecdotal evidence from after the war suggests that Bolivian prisoners, who generally had greater freedom and lived among the population, had married Paraguayan women or embarked upon lives in Paraguay.75 The members of the commission found other

73 AMRE DCCP Paz del Chaco 21, “Sesión del día 3 de febrero de 1936,” Conferencia de Paz Acta N. 28. 74 AMRE DCCP 5 Pa z de Chaco, “Memorándum sobre la cuestión canje y repatriación de prisioneros,” The memo talked about the historical trajectory of the terms use and custom and brought up a number of examples on which basis to decide how to handle the prisoners of the Chaco. 75 Some soldiers acknowledged this, as some prisoners married and started families in Paraguay, which made it “impossible to return to Bolivia.” See Rene Danilo Arze Aguirre, Guerra y Conflictos Sociales: El Caso Rural Boliviano durante la Campaña del Chaco (La Paz: Centro de Estudios de la Realidad Económica y Social, 1987), 260. Also, Roberto Choque Canqui, Historia de una lucha desigual: Los contenidos ideológicos y políticos de las rebeliones indígenas de la Pre-Revolución Nacional (La Paz: Unidad de Investigaciones Históricas, 2005), 100. “Many of the soldiers did not want to return to their homes;

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reasons to consider this idea; all centred on the welfare of individual prisoners. The Paraguayan Foreign Minister Juan Stefanich noted in a March 1936 memo that there existed three classes of Bolivians who did not wish to return home. The first group consisted of men who had political or military reasons that prevented their return; these men had likely spoken out against the Bolivian government or were members of a Communist Party, such as the Communist agitator Ricardo Valle.76 The second group of men “wished to settle in Paraguay,” and a third group wished to settle in a neighbouring country, including Argentina or Brazil. The Paraguayans accepted the decision of the peace conference to honour these requests and any requests from “our compatriots,” or Paraguayans who had the same desires.77 The commission took significant time to figure out how to realise the desires of those soldiers who wished to remain in a third country or the country of captivity. In February 1936, the Argentine Podesta Costa, in his role as Secretary General of the Commission, called the issue “quite obscure.”78 While they agreed in principle on the reasoning behind the proposal, it presented an additional logistical hurdle. Would the prisoners, they wondered, offer their declaration in front of members of the commission, diplomatic representatives or another way?79 Eventually, the commission created a formal process for the men who wished to reject repatriation home. With a focus on inclusiveness, it was meant to be understandable and navigable, even for illiterate captives. The process was different for officers and soldiers. But it included a submission some went to live instead in the cities; meanwhile, other stayed in Paraguay or left for Argentina, where they could find work and suffer less than in Bolivia.” 76 Ricardo Valle Closa used the alias of Gastón del Mar and conducted clandestine work during the Chaco War for the Communist Party; he also wrote articles for various Paraguayan papers during his time in captivity. See Gastón del Mar, “Liberalismo o Saavedrismo,” El Orden, March 3, 1934, 3. His articles appeared regularly in El Orden, at least in first part of 1934, with an almost daily topic under the theme of “A la sombra de la guerra: De La Paz a Campo Vía, Diario de Guerra del Prisionera Gastón del Mar.” 77 AMRE DPD 182, “Instrucciones para los miembros militares ante la comisión especial de repatriación.” 78 AMRE DCCP Paz de Chaco 21, “Sesión del dia 3 de febrero de 1936,” Acta N.

28. 79 AMRE DCCP Paz de Chaco 21, “Sesión del dia 3 de febrero de 1936,” Acta N.

28.

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of a form (in triplicate) and an interview to ascertain the reasoning behind the decision. Officials from the commission and representatives from the belligerent states would then sign and provide official stamps to enable the ex-prisoner to claim residency in the desired state.80 Records of who took advantage of this service shed some light on whether the option was even worth it. The men who claimed this right were not part of the normal transfer, which sought to exchange prisoners as rapidly as possible, despite Bolivian requests for more time to have their sappers repair the roads for the troops to return home.81 Transfers began on May 2, 1936, and accelerated to a rate of 700 Paraguayans and 2,700 Bolivians each week until the end of that same August. Yet, the commission remained at work for almost another year in order to finalise the status of special prisoners, completing all its efforts only on May 14, 1937. In total, the commission noted that they repatriated 344 officers and 16,600 soldiers from Bolivia and 94 officers and 2,400 Paraguayan soldiers from Bolivia.82 Between August 21, 1936, and February 13, 1937, a total of 170 Bolivians and 13 Paraguayans were handled; of that group, almost half from each side decided to remain in the country of captivity. 71 Bolivians filed papers to remain in Paraguay and 6 of the 13 Paraguayans chose to remain in Bolivia.83 Included in the data about these prisoners were others who had escaped or were otherwise unaccountable to the military authorities. As with the process for those who wished to remain in the country of captivity, the commission developed a policy to handle men who might appear later, after the transfer of prisoners was considered complete.84 This was especially true of the Bolivians in Paraguay, as there was less 80 AdC MREC CPdC, No. C183 A94 [No. 50], “Entrega y Recepción de Prisioneros,” April 29, 1936. This lengthy document includes resolutions, templates of forms, and official decisions of the executive commission on repatriation. 81 AdC MREC, CPdC, No. 19, “Secreto: Comisión Militar Neutral, Actas,” Acta No. 19, June 22, 1935, 41–44. 82 AdC MREC, CPdC, No. 19, “Proyecto de resolución de la conferencia de paz en cumplimiento del articulo VII capitulo I del protocolo de paz del 12 de Junio de 1935,” 3. 83 AdC MREC, CPdC, No. 50, “Informe de la comisión especial de repatriación,” Chapter 4, “Verificación de los compromisos relativos a la liberación reciproca de los prisioneros de guerra,” esp. pp. 50–53. 84 AdC MREC, CPdC, No. 50, “Sesión Plenaria del 17 de Julio de 1936,” Acta No.

10.

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control over these prisoners and, therefore, freedom of transit within that country was common.85 For instance, a group of 23 Bolivian officers were liberated in Asunción rather than in a third country, and then permitted to pay their expenses home.86 Finally, repatriation was not possible for a small number of men, or delayed beyond the process, owing to illness or incarceration for criminal penalties.87 During a June 1936 meeting of the executive committee, it seemed that plans had been making good progress. Braden exclaimed that he was honoured that the American government could be present at the negotiating table among company that was “working together with the identical convictions.” It was, he concluded, the “convictions of our brothers” of this new world who declared on this memorable day that “war will never again stain the ground of this continent and that the American democracies will insist on peace!”88 Overall, the international community enabled the orderly movement of more than 20,000 men in a period of several months. With approved routes, medical personnel, planned food rations, identification documents, and inspections, the international commission for repatriation accomplished an impressive feat. Without this international aid, it is doubtful that either state could have facilitated the transfer of so many men, given their inherent weakness and political instability. This is all the more important considering that the Bolivian prisoners far exceeded the numbers of Paraguayan captives. It would simply have been detrimental to the overall peace process had the prisoners not been included in a wider discussion and repatriated under international supervision. Put simply, inspectors at all relevant levels served to ensure that the process moved smoothly and without risk to upsetting the peace. Once again, the intervention by an internationalised force compensated for the combatants’ own inability to transfer prisoners in an orderly fashion.

85 AdC MREC, CPdC, No. 50, “Sesión Privada del 29 de Julio de 1936,” Acta No.

24. 86 AdC MREC, CPdC, No. 50, “Sesión Privada del 28 de Julio de 1936,” Acta No.

23. 87 Ibid. This session includes a lot of logistical information regarding the repatriation process, including a single prisoner who was unable to be repatriated because he was jailed on criminal grounds. 88 AMRE Paz de Chaco DCCP 22, Acta N. 58, June 12, 1936.

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Conclusion: The Politics of Prisoners The Chaco War remains relatively obscure, even among scholars of military history. In the combatant countries too, there exists a literature that simply recounts battles or serves as a memoir or micro narrative of the conflict.89 The war was transformational, not only because it served to accelerate political change or the construction of national identity, but also because it was so closely connected with global norms.90 Weapons systems and tactics on both sides showed clear continuity with lessons of the First World War and foreshadowed campaigns less than a decade later in Europe.91 The prisoner regime also had great similarity with the world wars that bracketed it. Overall, international actors and institutions had significant influence on the Chaco War, to the point that we cannot understand the conflict by just thinking of it as a BolivianParaguayan dispute. A survey of some of the more important international aspects show that prior to the war a focus on humanitarian issues was not simply political rhetoric but served to change the demographic realities within the wider region. Furthermore, the war shows how both combatants leveraged international institutions to aid them in taking care of the prisoners, which included facilitating a positive image abroad. Ultimately, when the war ended, the peace conference deliberated with representatives from numerous states in the Americas, including the United States, and again turned to the idea of individual rights and humanitarian issues. Ensuring that prisoners had enough food, that transportation was coordinated, and that prisoners had a choice of their final destination foreshadowed the development of internationalism as it transitioned from the League of Nations to the Charter of the United Nations. The latter would have a much more thorough definition of human rights,

89 For example, see Oscar Moscoso, Recuerdos de la Guerra del Chaco (Cochabamba: Canales, 1939); Emilio Sarmiento, Memorias de un soldado de la Guerra del Chaco (Caracas: El Cid Editor, 1978) and Fernando Silva, “Mis Memorias,” Regimiento de Caballería No. 1 (Asunción, Paraguay: Criterio Ediciones, 1989). 90 A recent study of the First World War argues that “the impact of the war was so tremendous that it changed whole societies, of participating as well as non-participating nation states alike.” See War and the Humanities: The Cultural Impact of the First World War, Frank Jacob, Jeffrey M. Shaw, and Timothy Demy, eds. (Paderborn: Ferdinand Schöningh, 2019), 5. 91 See, for example, Alejandro de Quesada, The Chaco War 1932–1935: South America’s Greatest War (Oxford: Osprey, 2011).

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including Article 13, which stipulated freedom of movement within a state and a person’s right to “leave any country, including his own, and to return to his country.”92 Yet, with respect to prisoners, we do not see any similar ability on their part to be afforded rights of residency after the cessation of hostilities. The Geneva Convention of 1949 spoke of the treatment of prisoners but did not stipulate, as such, a provision for the rejection of repatriation in order to live in the captive country or a third country after the close of hostilities. The signatories understood repatriation as a matter of prisoners of war returning to “their own country” with only seriously ill prisoners or those who made direct requests able to obtain “accommodation in a neutral country.” Importantly, accommodation did not imply residency after the cessation of hostilities.93 Therefore, given the growth of international attention both before and during the war and the unique circumstances afforded to prisoners of war, the Chaco War demands further scholarly attention. This will make it possible to situate the wider role of this history, especially insofar as it intersected with global norms.94

References Archives LOC = Library of Congress, Washington, D.C. Fond: John J. Persing Papers.

92 See “Universal Declaration of Human Rights,” United Nations, accessed September 12, 2019, https://www.un.org/en/universal-declaration-human-rights/index.html. This progressed even further to the Helsinki Accords, including ideas related to the freedom of movement. For example, regarding migrant labour, the signatories were “to ensure, through collaboration between the host country and the country of origin, the conditions under which the orderly movement of workers might take place.” Additionally, more broadly “Make it their aim to facilitate freer movement and contacts, individually and collectively, whether privately or officially, among persons, institutions and organizations of the participating States.” See “Conference on Security and Co-Operation in Europe Final Act,” Organization of Security and Cooperation in Europe, Helsinki, Finland, 1975, accessed September 12, 2019, https://www.osce.org/helsinki-final-act?download=true. 93 See League of Nations Treaty Series, 383–390. 94 For more on how the Chaco War fit within global norms see Robert Niebuhr, ¡Vamos

a avanzar!: The Chaco War and Bolivia’s Political Development, 1899–1952 (Lincoln, NE: University of Nebraska Press, 2021).

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IHM = Ministerio de Defensa, Instituto de Historia y Museo Militar del Ministerio de Defensa Nacional, Asunción, Paraguay. Fond: Ordenes Generalas. AASA = Archivo del Arzobispado de la Santísima Asunción, Asunción, Paraguay. Fond: Guerra del Chaco 901.9, Tomo 1, 2, and 3. ANB = Archivo Nacional de Bolivia, Sucre, Bolivia. Fond: PR 0118, 1935 Presidencia de la Republica—Correspondencia Ministerio de Relaciones Exteriores. PR 0067, 1929 Correspondencia. Ministerio de Guerra y Colonización. (Recibida y expedida). AMRE = Archivo de Ministerio de Relacciones Exteriories, Academia Diplomática y Consular “Dr. Carlos Antonio López,” Asunción, Paraguay. Fond: DPD 182, Comisión especial de repatriación. DPD 8, Registro de prisioneros paraguayos en Bolivia, 1934–1936. DCCP 21, Paz de Chaco DCCP 22, Paz de Chaco DCCP 5, Paz de Chaco ICRC = Archive of International Committee of the Red Cross, Geneva, Switzerland. Fond: CR 00/143 Paraguay CR00/10, CR bolivienne CR182 III, Conflit du Chaco CR182-5, Conflit du Chaco CR182 Conflit Bolivie-Paraguay AdC MREC = Archivo de Cancillería, Buenos Aires, Argentina. Fond: Ministerio de relaciones exteriores y culto [MREC], No. C183, 19, 50, 47. LON = League of Nations Archival Collection, Geneva, Switzerland. Fond: C1454 “International Labour Office.” MHM =Museo Historio Militar “Héroes de la Guerra del Chaco,” Santa Cruz, Bolivia.

Literature Arze, Aguirre, and Rene Danilo. 1987. Guerra y Conflictos Sociales: El Caso Rural Boliviano durante la Campaña del Chaco. La Paz: Centro de Estudios de la Realidad Económica y Social. Balcazar, Juan Manuel. 1956. Historia de la Medicina en Bolivia. La Paz: Ediciones “Juventud.” Bryant, Jr., K.L. 1968. Alfalfa Bill Murray. Norman, OK: University of Oklahoma Press.

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Burdick, Charles. 1984. The German Prisoners-of-War in Japan, 1914–1920. Washington, D.C.: University Press of America, 1984. Bustamante, Daniel S. 1920. Bolivia: Su Estructura y sus Derechos en el Pacifico. La Paz: Libreria Editora Arno Hermanos. Cabanes, Bruno. 2014. The Great War and the Origins of Humanitarianism, 1918–1924. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Céspedes, Augusto. 1956. El Dictador Suicida: 40 Años de Historia de Bolivia. Santiago de Chile: Editorial Universitaria. Chesterton, Bridget, ed. 2016. The Chaco War: Environment, Ethnicity, and Nationalism. Oxford: Bloomsbury Academic. Choque Canqui, Roberto. 2005. Historia de una lucha desigual: Los contenidos ideológicos y políticos de las rebeliones indígenas de la Pre-Revolución Nacional. La Paz: Unidad de Investigaciones Históricas. del Mar, Gastón. 1934. Liberalismo o Saavedrismo. El Orden, March 3. de Quesada, Alejandro. 2011. The Chaco War 1932–35: South America’s Greatest War. Oxford: Osprey. Dispute Between Bolivia and Paraguay: Appeal of the Bolivian Government, The League of Nations Official Journal, Special Supplement No. 124. 1934. Geneva: League of Nations. Dunkerley, James. 1979. The Politics of the Bolivian Army: Institutional Developments to 1935. PhD diss., Nuffield College, Oxford. Hughes, Matthew. 2005. Logistics and the Chaco War: Bolivia versus Paraguay, 1932–35. The Journal of Military History 69, 2: 411–437. Jacob, Frank, Jeffrey M. Shaw, and Timothy Demy, eds. 2019. War and the Humanities: The Cultural Impact of the First World War. Paderborn: Ferdinand Schöningh. L’Angevin, Daphne. 2009. Los inicios de la radio en Bolivia y la Guerra del Chaco: Radio Nacional—Radio Illimani (1929–1935). Fuentes 3, 4: 7. League of Nations Treaty Series. 1932. CXVIII: 1–4 (1931–1932). Geneva: League of Nations. Martin, F.H. 1922. South America from a Surgeon’s Point of View. New York: Fleming H. Revell. Mesa, José D., Teresa Gisbert, and Carlos D. Mesa Gisbert. 1997. Historia de Bolivia. La Paz: Editorial Gisbert Y CIA S.A. More, Federico. 1918. Deberes de Chile, Peru, y Bolivia ante el problema del Pacifico. La Paz: Gonzalez y Medina. Moscoso, Oscar. 1939. Recuerdos de la Guerra del Chaco. Cochabamba: Canales. Niebuhr, Robert. 2018. The Road to the Chaco War: Bolivia’s Modernisation in the 1920s. War & Society 37, 2: 96–107. Niebuhr, Robert. 2019. Prisoners of the Chaco: The Bolivian Experience of Captivity. War in History. https://doi.org/10.1177/0968344519842358.

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Niebuhr, Robert. 2021. ¡Vamos a avanzar!: The Chaco War and Bolivia’s Political Development, 1899–1952. Lincoln, NE: University of Nebraska Press. Organization of Security and Cooperation in Europe. Conference on Security and Co-Operation in Europe Final Act. Helsinki, Finland, 1975. https://www. osce.org/helsinki-final-act?download=true. Accessed September 12, 2019. Ramos Flores, Marcelo. 2012. La solemne inauguración del estadio Hernando Siles. Fuentes 6, 20: 30. Rivera Cusicanqui, Silvia. 1987. Oppressed But Not Defeated: Peasant Struggles Among the Aymara and Qhechwa in Bolivia, 1900–1980. Geneva: United Nations Research Institute for Social Development. Roa Bastos, Augusto. 1960. Hijo de hombre. Buenos Aires: Editorial Losada. Romecin, Eduardo. 1929. Agricultural Adaptation in Bolivia. Geographical Review 19, 2: 248–255. Rosenberg, Emily S. 1999. Financial Missionaries to the World: The Politics and Culture of Dollar Diplomacy, 1900–1930. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Saeger, James Schofield. 2000. The Chaco Mission Frontier: The Guaycuruan Experience. Tucson: The University of Arizona Press. Sarmiento, Emilio. 1978. Memorias de un soldado de la Guerra del Chaco. Caracas: El Cid Editor. Silva, Fernando. 1989. “Mis Memorias,” Regimiento de Caballería No. 1. Asunción. Paraguay: Criterio Ediciones. Strecker, Mark. 2019. Americans in a Splintering Europe: Refugees, Missionaries and Journalists in World War I . Jefferson, NC: McFarland & Co. S. n. 1932. Bolivia begins Paraguay War: Attack on Chaco Fort Told to La Paz Populace. Los Angeles Times, July 20. S. n. 1934. Charge Cruelty in Chaco. New York Times, February 4. S. n. 1934. El Canillita. La Semana Grafica, May 19. S. n. 1934. La Cruz Roja de Cochabamba en el Chaco. La Unión, July 5. The Frontier Dispute between Bolivia and Paraguay. 1928. Bulletin of International News 5, 12: 8–10. United Nations Archives, Geneva. Dispute Between Bolivia and Paraguay: Communication from the Paraguayan Representative, March 6, 1934, C.120.1934.VIII. https://biblio-archive.unog.ch/Dateien/CouncilDocs/C120-1934-VII_EN.pdf. Accessed September 12, 2019. United Nations. Universal Declaration of Human Rights. https://www.un.org/ en/universal-declaration-human-rights/index.html. Accessed September 12, 2019. Zook, David. 1960. The Conduct of the Chaco War. New York: Bookman Associates.

CHAPTER 5

Japanese Civilian Internees in New Caledonia: A Gap Between the Protecting Powers and the ICRC Rowena Ward

Introduction The outbreak of conflict or war between two states usually sees civilians residing in territory which comes under enemy control.1 If the civilians live in territory with land borders, they may face the choice of whether to stay or leave. But if they live on islands, as in the case of the Japanese who resided in the French territory of New Caledonia in December 1941, they often have little choice but to stay. Under these circumstances, the now ‘enemy aliens’ often become subject to house arrest or are held in prisons or internment camps. Many Japanese enemy aliens (including some who had taken local citizenship) resident in various places across the 1 I would like to thank Dr. Ismet Kurtovich and Mr. Christophe Dervieux for their assistance with this chapter. I would also like to thank Prof. Marc Williams and Dr. Karen Daly and the editors for their comments on earlier drafts of the chapter.

R. Ward (B) University of Wollongong, Wollongong, Australia e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 M. Berni and T. Cubito (eds.), Captivity in War during the Twentieth Century, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-65095-7_5

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Pacific found themselves in this situation after the outbreak of hostilities in the Asia-Pacific theatre of the Second World War.2 Once arrested, the Japanese were entitled to impartial representation through visits by delegates of the International Committee of the Red Cross (hereafter ICRC) and/or, where appointed, a protecting power.3 Based on discussions held during such visits, delegates of either intermediary could communicate the internees’ concerns to the relevant authorities. The ICRC delegate would communicate with the ICRC Head Office in Geneva; meanwhile, the delegate for the protecting power would contact their own government which would, in turn, notify the Japanese government. For the delegates to effectively undertake these roles, they needed access to the camps. In the Free-French-aligned colony of New Caledonia,4 this was not the case for the Japanese internees: there was no local ICRC delegate and no protecting power was appointed, as Japan was not officially at war with the wartime Vichy French state led by Marshal Philippe Pétain. In contrast, the Japanese internees who were transferred from New Caledonia to Australia for internment had access to delegates of the ICRC and also of Switzerland, in its role as the protecting power for Australia’s relations with Japan. The delegates of both Switzerland and the ICRC in Australia lobbied for improved facilities and services for

2 For a discussion of the internment of Germans and Italians and other nationalities in Australia during the Second World War see Joan Beaumont, Ilma Martinuzzi O’Brien, Mathew Trinca, eds., Under Suspicion: Citizenship and Internment in Australia during the Second World War (Canberra: National Museum of Australia, 2008); Cate Elkner, et al., Enemy Aliens: The Internment of Italian Migrants in Australia during the Second World War (Bacchus Marsh, Victoria: Connor Court, 2005); Klaus Neumann, In the Interests of National Security: Civilian Internment in Australia during World War II (National Archives of Australia: Canberra, 2006); Christine Winter, “The Long Arm of the Third Reich.” Journal of Pacific History, 38, 1: 85–108. For a discussion of the internment and repatriation of Japanese who had taken French nationality see Rowena G. Ward, “The Internment and Repatriation of the Japanese-French Nationals Resident in New Caledonia, 1941–1946.” Portal Journal of Multidisciplinary International Studies 14, no. 2: 55–67. 3 See Tamara Cubito’s chapter in this volume. 4 The Free French or Fighting French refers to the Charles de Gaulle led government-

in-exile.

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all Japanese internees held there. For instance, Hans Hedinger, Switzerland’s chief representative in Australia5 notified the Swiss government of internees’ concerns, and it, in turn, communicated these to the Japanese government. Civilian internees’ interests are now covered by the 1949 Convention Geneva Convention relative to the protection of civilian persons in time of war. However, during the Second World War, the 1929 Geneva Convention (“the Convention”) covered only military prisoners of war.6 Nevertheless, the Japanese and Allied governments across the South West Pacific area agreed to apply its terms to civilian internees. The Japanese government approved even though it had not ratified the Convention, but its agreement was conditional: it agreed to observe the Convention’s terms “mutatis mutandis.”7 On the basis of archival research in the French Diplomatic Archives in Nantes (FDA), the National Archives of Australia (NAA), the National Archives of the United Kingdom (TNA), the Diplomatic Archives of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Japan (MOFA) and the Archives of New Caledonia (ANC) in Noumea, this chapter considers the case of the Japanese civilian captives who were arrested in New Caledonia. It looks at those who remained interned in New Caledonia throughout the war as well as those who were transferred to Australia for internment in terms of their interactions with the ICRC and Switzerland as the designated protecting power for Japan. In particular, this chapter will illustrate some of the limitations to the roles of the ICRC and the protecting powers as they applied to internees, especially those held in Free-French-aligned New Caledonia. This chapter also shows how protecting powers can be drawn into discussions about the alleged ill-treatment of captives with whom they have no contact and over whom they have no direct responsibility. 5 Hans Hedinger was Honorary Consul-General in Sydney from 1933 to 1941 and a salaried Consul-General from 1941 to 1961. Johannes Pietzcker was Honorary ConsulGeneral in Melbourne from 1932 to 1951 and Henri Schauk was Honorary ConsulGeneral in Brisbane from 1926 to 1960. Switzerland did not have an Embassy in Australia until August 1961. 6 “Geneva Convention of 1949 and Additional Protocols, and their Commentaries,” International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC), accessed July 7, 2020, https://ihldatabases.icrc.org/applic/ihl/ihl.nsf/vwTreaties1949.xsp. 7 Caroline Moorehead, Dunant’s Dream—War, Switzerland and the History of the Red Cross (New York: Carroll & Graf, 1998), 472–473.

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The 1929 Geneva Convention: Protecting Powers and the ICRC Until the end of the Second World War the appointment of a protecting power to oversee relations between belligerents was common practice.8 Defined as “a neutral state representing the interests of a second state in the territory of a third,”9 the activities of the protecting power encompassed the sealing of consular property and acting as a communication channel between the belligerents, including with regards to prisoners of war and internee issues. Under the Convention, the appointment of a protecting power was not obligatory and some states did not appoint one, for instance, when it did not recognise a territory as an independent state. Germany, for example, did not recognise the areas in France which it occupied during the Second World War as independent territory and hence did not appoint a protecting power. Instead, the Vichy regime acted as the protecting power for French soldiers captured by the Germans.10 Also, despite the absence of a formal agreement, the ICRC performed “many of the humanitarian functions of Protecting Powers in relations between the Free French authorities and the Third Reich.”11 Yet these examples refer to cases in Europe rather than in distant colonial territories. The United Kingdom, Australia and New Zealand12 as well as continental United

8 In recent conflicts, it has become common practice for the ICRC to be appointed in place of the protecting power. See “Protecting Powers,” ICRC, accessed May 21, 2020, https://casebook.icrc.org/glossary/protecting-powers. 9 George A.B. Peirce, “Humanitarian Protection for the Victims of War: The System of Protecting Powers and the Role of the ICRC,” Military Law Review 90, no. 1: 92. 10 Raffael Scheck, French Colonial Soldiers in German Captivity during World War II (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014), 15. 11 International Committee of the Red Cross, Commentary on the Second Geneva Convention: Convention (II) for the Amelioration of the Condition of Wounded, Sick and Shipwrecked Members of Armed Forces at Sea (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017), 444. 12 Argentina was initially appointed as the United Kingdom’s protecting power for relations with Japan. Switzerland replaced Argentina as the protecting power in May 1942.

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States13 appointed Switzerland as their protecting power in their dealings with Japan. Switzerland was also appointed the protecting power for Japan’s relations with the United Kingdom, Australia and New Zealand. Article 42 of the Convention held that the detaining power was to “facilitate the task of the representatives” in undertaking their duties whilst Article 86 stated that “representatives of the protecting power or its accepted delegates shall be permitted to go any place, without exception, where prisoners of war are interned. They shall have access to all places occupied by prisoners and may interview them, as a general rule without witnesses.” In combination, these articles gave the states holding captives the responsibility to organise and facilitate visits by representatives of the protecting power and/or the ICRC to camps. It is well-known that a number of countries, including Japan, did not abide by the terms of these articles, sometimes due to problems of reciprocity. As regards the position of the ICRC, the Convention did not allow it to establish “mobile commissions composed of neutrals charged with assuring that the belligerents were complying with the convention,”14 such as the ICRC had campaigned for. The Convention did, however, acknowledge the ICRC’s humanitarian role.15 Whilst delegates of the ICRC and protecting powers were legally permitted to visit camps, they were dependent on the detaining power allowing and facilitating the visits. In the case of the Japanese internees arrested in New Caledonia who remained there throughout the war, this permission was not initially

13 According to Howard S. Levie, “Prisoners of War and the Protecting Power,” The American Journal of International Law 55, no. 2: 376, the Spanish Government represented Japan in continental United States whilst Sweden was appointed for Hawai’i. Pascal Lottaz, “Neutrality and Wartime Japan In Notions of Neutralities,” in Notions of Neutralities, eds. Pascal Lottaz and Herbert R. Reginbogin (Lanham, Maryland: Lexington Books, 2018), 120 suggests that the appointment of Sweden as protecting power for Hawai’i was because Spain did not have a Consulate in that territory and the Japanese government wanted a neutral representative to look after the interests of the large number of people of Japanese descent who lived in Hawai’i. The Spanish government withdrew its protection for Japanese interests on March 17, 1945 and Switzerland assumed the role on 22 July 1945. Under instructions from SCAP (Supreme Commander for the Allied Powers; see also the chapter by Frank Jacob in this book), Japan broke off diplomatic relations with Switzerland in November 1945. See Marjorie M. Whiteman Digest of International Law, Vol. 7 (Washington, DC: Department of State, 1963), 467–468. 14 Levie, “Prisoners of War and the Protecting Power,” 378. 15 Ibid., 379.

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forthcoming.16 Whilst New Zealand17 and Australia permitted delegates of both the ICRC and the protecting power to visit local internment camps, the governor of New Caledonia discouraged the ICRC delegate from visiting but ultimately acquiesced when he was notified that the French Government had approved the visit.

New Caledonia in the Pacific War New Caledonia, a French territory in the South Pacific, is located east of Australia and north of New Zealand. Between 1892 and 1941, over 5,000 Japanese contract workers moved to New Caledonia, primarily to labour in the territory’s nickel mines.18 Whilst the majority returned to Japan when their contracts ended, some of them chose to stay. The November 1941 census on the Japanese population showed that 1,104 Japanese were residing in the colony.19 New Caledonia’s exact political status during the war was often unclear. However, there was a general alignment with Free France. New Caledonia played a key strategic role in Allied Pacific operations throughout the Second World War. Noumea served as a headquarter for the United States Navy and Army, and local air fields were used for missions across the region.20 For this reason, substantial territory across the main island of Grand Terre and the capital of Noumea were appropriated by the United States for military use.21 In effect, New Caledonia was under a de facto US military occupation, although the administration of the territory and

16 See Marcel Berni’s chapter in this volume on the ICRC in the Vietnam War. 17 According to Judith Bennett, “Japanese Wartime Internees in New Zealand,” Journal

of Pacific History 44, no. 1: 66 the Swiss consul in New Zealand arranged for the allocation of rice to Japanese internees to be increased. 18 Tadao Kobayashi, Ny¯ u karedoniat¯ o no nihonjin (2nd edition) (Tokyo: Ryokuchisha, 1988) gives an historical overview of the migration of Japanese to New Caledonia. 19 ANC 107 W 2852, Census of Japanese Residents, dated November 24, 1941. 20 The New Zealand 3rd Division also had its headquarters at Bourail, north-west of

Noumea, from late 1942. 21 Kim Munholland, Rock of Contention: Free French and Americans at War in New Caledonia, 1940–1945 (New York & Oxford: Berghahn Books, 2005) discusses the friction between the United States’ military administration and the French authorities in New Caledonia during the war.

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the internment camp with Japanese internees remained in French hands throughout the war. Immediately after the Free French government-in-exile declared war on Japan on December 8, 1941, the New Caledonian authorities began arresting Japanese male residents over the age of 18 and transferring them to the old penal compound of Nouville outside Noumea for internment. One such internee, Kenzo Hamada, a Japanese resident of New Caledonia since 1914, was arrested in Noumea on December 9, 1941, only a day after the outbreak of the Pacific War.22 Over the next six months, local authorities continued to arrest and intern Japanese males and subsequently sent most of them, as well as the small number of Japanese women and children resident in New Caledonia, to Australia for internment. Some of the internees transferred to Australia were subsequently repatriated to Japan (or areas under Japanese control) via the Anglo-Japanese Civilian Exchange held at Lourenço Marques (present day Maputo) in Portuguese East Africa (today’s Mozambique) in August/September 1942. This repatriation not only enabled the return of nearly 3,000 Japanese to Japan or areas under its control but also allowed the Japanese Government to learn of the internees’ complaints about the conditions they were subjected to in Nouville. Japanese internees held in Australia who were not repatriated to Japan in 1942 were repatriated in early 1946.23

New Caledonian Japanese Interned in Australia Shortly after the first shipload of internees from New Caledonia arrived in Australia, Mr. Kawai, the Consul-General for Japan in Australia who was held under house arrest in Melbourne, learned of complaints about the conditions the Japanese had been subjected to in Nouville prison and the conditions on the SS Cap des Palmes ,24 the ship on which they had

22 Archives de la Nouvelle-Calédonie (ANC), 34 W 14 #1244. 23 Rowena Ward, “Female Japanese Citizens in New Caledonia: Pre-December 1941,”

Pacific Dynamics: Journal of Interdisciplinary Research 2, no. 1 (2018): 45–52 discusses the repatriation of the Japanese from New Caledonia. 24 The SS Cap des Palmes made three trips to Australia carrying Japanese internees. The SS Cremer made a trip in May 1942.

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been transferred to Australia.25 Mr. Kawai wrote to Mr. Hedinger, the Swiss consular representative, alerting him to the complaints and some internees’ lack of funds.26 In a reply to Kawai’s letter, Hedinger wrote that he, too, had learnt of the financial plight of the Japanese from New Caledonia when he visited the Hay internment camp, and had subsequently contacted the ICRC’s local representative who had organised for funds to be made available to the “most needy” internees’.27 Hedinger also noted that he had received “a written statement” from an internee about the conditions in Nouville.28 Yuri Murayama, who had lived in Noumea for almost 20 years, reportedly informed Hedinger that: There were about 40 children on board. We had packed biscuits and other things for them … but the soldiers confiscated them all … the conditions on the ship were terrible … no proper toilet facilities … no bedding. But the women and children at least had a change of clothes. The men had nothing except what they were wearing when they were arrested.29

Hedinger acknowledged that the allegations were “serious” and that the conditions “seem to have been contrary to the Geneva Convention.”30 After being alerted to the allegations by Hedinger, the Swiss 25 MOFA Da-T¯ oa sens¯o kankei ikken: zai-eikoku (ganzokury¯ o) honj¯ojin kankei: 1. Letter from Mr. Hedinger to Mr. Kawai, dated February 17, 1942. This document indicates that Japan’s Diplomatic staff learnt of the complaints when Messrs Okusa and Semba were transferred from the Hay internment camp, where they were initially held, to Melbourne. Mr. Okusa and Mr. Semba were sheep buyers in Australia on behalf of Japan’s Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry. The date of the letter indicates that the complaint was received after the second journey, but the content refers mostly to the first voyage. 26 A copy of the letter from Mr. Kawai to Mr. Hedinger, dated February 15, 1942, has not been found. NAA MP508/1 255/703/296 contains a series of letters and cables dealing with Japanese requests for funds. SM 6331, dated April 6, 1942 from the Lieutenant-Colonel for Director of Prisoners of War gives permission for Albert S. Uyeno to be advised verbally that the internees can “make representations by letter to the appropriate authorities in New Caledonia concerning their funds.” 27 MOFA Dai-T¯ oa sens¯o kankei ikken: zai-eikoku (ganzokury¯ o) honj¯ojin kankei. Letter from Mr. Hedinger to Mr. Kawai, dated February 17, 1942. This letter is in reply to a letter from Mr. Kawai to Mr. Hedinger, dated February 15, 1942. 28 Ibid. 29 Quoted in Yuriko Nagata, Unwanted Aliens: Japanese Internment in Australia (St.

Lucia: Queensland University Press, 1996), 77. 30 MOFA Dai-T¯ oa sens¯o kankei ikken: zai-eikoku (ganzokury¯ o) honj¯ojin kankei. Letter from Mr. Hedinger to Mr. Kawai, dated February 17, 1942.

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government contacted the British government which, in turn, contacted the Australian government. The latter replied that it “had nothing whatever to do with the arrest, internment or custody” of the internees.31 The British Foreign Office subsequently contacted the French National Committee in London, which replied that it had asked the New Caledonian authorities for a full report.32 In the meantime, the Japanese government contacted the Spanish government, which it had appointed as the protecting power for its dealings with the continental United States. The decision to contact the Spanish government was presumably made because of the pseudo-military occupation of New Caledonia by the United States. The United States replied that “the interned Japanese civilians in New Caledonia have at no time been under the jurisdiction or control of the American authorities.”33 In its reply to the Japanese government, the Spanish government stated that it had received confirmation that the “Japanese civilians interned at Nouville were in the custody of the French authorities in New Caledonia” and recommended that the Japanese government raise the issue with the French Committee of National Liberation in Algiers.34 There is no record of the Japanese government following this suggestion but due to the importance of reciprocity in the treatment of internees, it is possible that the alleged mistreatment of the Japanese in New Caledonia influenced Japan’s treatment of Allied POWs and internees.35 Spain’s involvement demonstrates how a protecting power can be drawn into addressing allegations against

31 The National Archives (TNA), FO 916/743 Copy of cable KW56/2 from FO to Swiss Legation, dated July 9, 1943. 32 TNA, FO 916/743 Copy of cable KW56/2 from FO to Swiss Legation, dated July

9, 1943. 33 MOFA Sh¯ owa 18–20 (1943–1945): Dai-T¯ oa sens¯o kankei ikken k¯osenkokukan tekikokujin oyobi furyo toriatsukai burikankei zai-tekikoku ippan oyobi shomondai zaitekikoku honh¯ojin shuy¯ojo shisatu h¯okoku zaiei no bu: 4. Cable No 923 from Mr. Suma, Special Envoy to Spain, to Mr. Shigemitsu, Minister for Foreign Affairs, dated August 24, 1943. 34 Ibid. 35 See Christina Twomey, Australia’s Forgotten Prisoners: Civilians Interned by the

Japanese in World War Two (Cambridge & New York: Cambridge University Press, 2007) and Sarah Kovner, “A War of Words: Allied Captivity and Swiss Neutrality in the Pacific, 1941–1945,” Diplomatic History 41, 2 (2017), 719–746 who link the treatment of Allied prisoners of war to the treatment of Japanese internees.

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a detaining power, in this case the French authorities, with which it had no direct relations. In mid-1944, again through the intermediary of Spain, the Japanese government asked the United States—which controlled access to New Caledonia—about the conditions under which the Japanese were held there.36 In response, the United States offered to permit accredited representatives to inspect some camps, including the one in New Caledonia to which it had hitherto not allowed access, if Japan allowed access to “all camps in the Philippine Islands and in other Japanese-occupied territories.”37 This response clearly demonstrates that the United States was restricting access to the French territory. In a radio broadcast on February 2, 1945, the Japanese government offered to allow the ICRC to visit some prisoner of war camps which it had withheld access to, if the United States provided reciprocal visiting rights to camps where Japanese were interned, including that in New Caledonia.38 It is unclear why Japan did not use Spain as its protecting power to make this offer. The United States’ offer did not place any restriction on whether the visits could be undertaken by delegates of the ICRC or the protecting power but the Japanese government’s offer was limited to the ICRC delegates. In reality, this was because the ICRC was Japan’s only option, as it had not appointed a protecting power for its relations with the now Provisional Government of the French Republic.39 Probably unaware of these discussions, yet acting under instructions from Geneva, the ICRC delegate in Australia, Dr. Georges Morel, directly approached the French representative in Australia for permission to visit the Japanese internees in New Caledonia.

36 US-State Department Bulletin XII, 191 (1945). In August, the Japanese government also asked about the conditions under which Japanese were held in Saipan. The precise dates of these approaches are unclear, but it is highly possible that the timing was related to the liberation of France. 37 Ibid. 38 Ibid. 39 The Provisional Government for the Republic of France declared war on Japan on July 25, 1944.

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The ICRC in the South West Pacific Dr. Georges Morel, an economist who had previously worked for the League of Nations in the disarmament section, had been appointed as ICRC delegate for Australia, New Zealand and Tonga in January 1941.40 When one considers that the distance from Sydney to Nuku’alofa, the capital of Tonga, is over 3,500 kilometres, the vastness of the area for which Morel was responsible becomes clear. Morel never visited Tonga, though he did inspect the Somes Island Civilian Internment camp in New Zealand in June 194241 and visited most of the prisoners of war and civilian internment camps across Australia.42 In September 1942, as a result of a significant increase in Morel’s workload due to the arrival of internees in Australia from overseas,43 including the Japanese from New Caledonia, Léon Bossard was appointed as a voluntary ICRC delegate to oversee New Zealand.44 However, neither Morel nor Bossard were given express responsibility for New Caledonia.45 Nevertheless, in mid-July 1945—less than a month before the Japanese surrender—Morel visited New Caledonia to inspect the Nouville prison. Morel’s report on his visit is overwhelmingly positive46 but the difficulties he faced in organising the visit clearly show some of the limitations on any neutral intermediaries’ access to internees.

40 Morel remained the ICRC delegate until his death in Brisbane in October 1945. 41 Délégation en Nouvelle-Zélande 1942, Revue Internationale de la Croix-Rouge 283:

466. 42 See for instance Délégation en Australie 1944, Revue Internationale de la CroixRouge 301: 16–17. 43 Australia received Indonesian political prisoners from the Netherlands East Indies as well Japanese civilian internees from the Netherlands East Indies. See Jan Lingard, Refugees and Rebels: Indonesian Exiles in Wartime Australia (North Melbourne: Australian Scholarly Publishing, 2008) for a discussion of the Indonesian political prisoners transferred to Australia. 44 Obituary “Léon Bossard,” International Review of the Red Cross 1964, 4, no. 41: 426–427. 45 ANC 107 W 2339 Jacques Tallec, the Governor of New Caledonia from February 14, 1944, signed a decree to establish the New Caledonian Red Cross on July 17, 1944. 46 A summary is included in Délégation en Australie 1945, Revue Internationale de la Croix-Rouge, 320: 586.

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The ICRC Visit to New Caledonia In March 1945, Morel wrote to Mr. Monmayou, chargé d’affaires in the French Legation in Canberra,47 noting that a year earlier he had communications with Mr. Miller, Attaché in the French consul-general’s office in Sydney, about the possibility of visiting New Caledonia to inspect the Nouville internment camp. In the letter, Morel notes that Mr. Miller had contacted the governor of New Caledonia, who had responded that the internment camp “contains only a few aged Japanese and that it would not present any interest for me to go and visit them.”48 That is, the governor discouraged Morel from visiting the camp. Putting aside the issue that the age of internees is irrelevant to whether the ICRC should have an interest in them or not, the governor’s reply shows how dependent the ICRC was on the co-operation of local authorities to undertake its inspections. Morel could not visit or interact with the internees without the Governor’s approval. In his letter to Monmayou, Morel mentioned that he had subsequently contacted the ICRC headquarters in Geneva and received the reply that the “visit had been approved by the French government. Please take steps to arrange a visit to the Nouville Internment Camp.”49 Over the ensuing weeks, Morel engaged with the French Legation on a periodic basis over the visit, including asking for permission to take photos.50 As a reflection of New Caledonia’s altered political situation after the Allied liberation of France, Morel’s application to visit New Caledonia was submitted to the United States’ consulate in Sydney rather than to the French Legation.51 Morel departed Brisbane on a United States transport

47 Roger Monmayou was appointed the Chargé d’Affaires for France in August 1944. 48 FDA Canberra Ambassade 1944–1959 787PO/2 36, Dr. Morel to Mr. Monmayou,

letter No. 20089, dated March 12, 1945. Morel notes in his report that all internees were at least 55 years of age. 49 Ibid. The French Legation in Canberra was opened in November 1944. Morel’s

decision to send this letter to Canberra rather than Sydney with which he had hitherto been in contact reflects this change. 50 Ibid., Morel to Mr. Monmayou letter No. 23,530, dated June 29, 1945. Morel received permission to take photos although there are none attached to the copy of the report held by the ANC (ANC 442 W 31). 51 Ibid., Morel to Mr. Monmayou, letter No. 22,781, dated June 11, 1945.

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plane on July 18, 1945 and visited Nouville the next day.52 He returned to Brisbane about a week later.53

Morel’s Report54 Morel’s report on his visit is comprehensive: it notes that he was accompanied during his visit by the Camp Commandant and Masajiro Suguira,55 the camp leader who had been appointed by the commandant. The report shows that the Nouville camp housed 27 Japanese men—including ten who had previously been French nationals—and one Javanese woman.56 Of the 27 men, the report notes that two were in hospital in Noumea and that Morel had visited them there. The report also provides details on food and the time that it was served, the internees’ accommodation and the medical facilities available to them. It also notes that the internees were permitted to smoke whenever they pleased and could write to the internees transferred to Australia in French.57 The report also outlines the internees’ requests for access to a radio, a gramophone and also for permission to write to their families in Japan in Japanese. The commandant’s responses to the requests

52 Ibid., Canberra Ambassade 1944–1959, 787PO/2 36, B. Dowling on behalf of Dr. Morel to Mr. Monmayou, letter No. 24,102, dated July 20, 1945. 53 It is not clear exactly when Dr. Morel returned to Australia as flight schedules were kept confidential so as not to alert the enemy. 54 ANC 442 W 31 M/FPD/MB, Camp D’Internment Civil de Nouville. 55 ANC 157 W 106 shows that Masajiro Sugiura (sometimes referred to as Sougiura)

became a French national on March 16, 1927. Unlike a number of other Japanese who took French nationality, his French nationality was not revoked. This may have been because his son was in the French Colonial Infantry (cf. U.S. Naval Liaison Officer). 56 ANC 442 W 31. Whilst there is no complete list of names of internees in Morel’s report, a list of names of Japanese internees held in Nouville dated August 12, 1943 records 26 names plus Aminah Nishimori. The author would like to thank Dr. Benjamin Hiramatsu Ireland for providing the list of names from the National Archives in College Park. Morel refers to Nishimori as “Javanese” but as the wife of Kikujiro Nishimori, a Japanese citizen, the New Caledonian authorities considered her to be Japanese. It is unclear why there is a discrepancy of one person between the two reports. 57 Benjamin Hiramatsu Ireland, “Nippo-Kanaks in Post-War New Caledonia: Race, Law, Politics and Identity,” Portal: Journal of Multidisciplinary International Studies 16, no. 1–2 (2019): 11–28 discusses some of the ramifications of letters written in French when the Japanese internees were unable to read French.

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are also included: he did not oppose the internees writing to their families in Japanese but any such letters, like the letters in French, would be subjected to censorship.58 The commandant expressed no objection to access to a gramophone, but stated that there was none available in New Caledonia and that he would see if one could be found in Australia. Morel did not mention meeting the only female internee, the Japanese/Dutch subject, Aminah59 Nishimori (née Dotikromo) and it is possible that he did not meet her, in which case she would have been the only internee Morel did not meet.60 Less than a month after Morel’s visit to New Caledonia, Japan agreed to an unconditional surrender.

The Aftermath The Empire of Japan formally surrendered on September 2, 1945 thus ending Switzerland’s role as the protecting power for both Japan and Australia, and its responsibility for the Japanese internees in Australia. Representatives of the Provisional Government of the French Republic and Australia signed the Japanese Instrument of Surrender in Tokyo Bay on September 2, 1945. Thereafter, negotiations over the fate of the Japanese internees fell to General Douglas MacArthur as the Supreme Commander of the Allied Powers (SCAP) in the Allied Occupation of Japan and the individual governments holding internees.61 The official surrender had no impact on the ICRC’s humanitarian role and its delegates continued to act for Japanese internees held in Australia and New Zealand. Dr. Morel, for instance, visited Loveday camp on August 31 and September 1, 1945 and Mr. Bossard visited the Featherston camp in New Zealand on September 20 and 21 of the same year.62 In October 1945, General MacArthur cabled all Allied governments holding Japanese internees asking how many “Japanese nationals

58 Ismet Kurtovich, Private email correspondence, dated February 15, 2020. 59 Ward, “Female Japanese Citizens in New Caledonia: Pre-December 1941,” incor-

rectly refers to Nishimori as Amanah. 60 Aminah was never released from Nouville. ANC 34 W 32 #1590 shows that Aminah died in Nouville but no date is recorded. A death certificate has not been found. 61 For more on this, see also the chapter by Frank Jacob in this book. 62 Délégation en Australie 1945 and Délégation en Nouvelle-Zélande 1945, Revue

Internationale de la Croix-Rouge 322: 748–749.

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including civilian personnel” were to be repatriated to Japan.63 The Australian Government Official Representative in Noumea consulted the New Caledonian authorities who advised that all Japanese held in Australia should be repatriated to Japan.64 No reference was made to the internees held in New Caledonia and they all continued to be interned in Nouville until at least mid-1946, or in the case of Shuzo Matsuoka, until 1947.65 No ICRC delegate made any visits to New Caledonia after the end of hostilities and there is no record of the ICRC contacting the local authorities about the fate of the Japanese internees held there. Unlike their compatriots who were transferred to Australia and subsequently repatriated to Japan, the Japanese who remained in New Caledonia were able to resume their lives there after the war.

Conclusion Using the Japanese residents of New Caledonia who were arrested and interned after the outbreak of war in the Pacific in December 1941, this chapter highlighted some of the limitations of the ICRC and protecting powers’ oversight of civilian internees. The delegates of both institutions were dependent on the detaining power allowing, and to some extent facilitating visits to the camps where captives were held. The delegates’ access was sometimes constrained by geographical location and political issues. In the case of the Free-French-aligned New Caledonia, no ICRC delegate was directly responsible for the territory and Japan did not appoint a protecting power as it was not at war with France. Furthermore, no protecting power was appointed after the liberation of France in August 1944. As such, New Caledonia fell into a gap between coverage of the ICRC and the protecting power system. This meant that the small number of Japanese internees held in New Caledonia went without access 63 NAA A1066 IC45/1/11/5, Department of the Army to Department of External Affairs teleprinter No. D.2075, dated October 12, 1945. 64 ANC 44 W 1321 Governor, New Caledonia to Australian Representative, Noumea letter No. 1529, dated October 25, 1945. In accordance with this reply, all but two of the Japanese transferred from New Caledonia to Australia were repatriated to Japan in early 1946. See Rowena G. Ward, “Repatriating the Japanese From New Caledonia, 1941–1946,” Journal of Pacific History 51, no. 4 (2016): 392–408 for a discussion of the repatriation of the Japanese from New Caledonia. Nagata, Unwanted Aliens discusses the repatriation of the Japanese held in Australia. 65 ANC 34 W 26 #365. Shuzo Matsuoka was released on February 12, 1947.

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to delegates of neutral intermediaries until July 1945–—less than a month prior to the Japanese surrender—when they were visited by an ICRC delegate. Despite accusations of ill-treatment of the Japanese held in New Caledonia in 1941 and 1942, the ICRC delegate’s report on his visit to the Nouville prison was positive. This does not mean that the complaints over the treatment of the Japanese internees at the time of their internment were without foundation, but that the inspection was focused on the situation in the camp at the time the ICRC delegates visited. The inspection did not cover past conditions. This focus on the present conditions was in line with the ICRC’s humanitarian role as a neutral intermediary acting for the captives. This role was not an investigative one. Finally, the case of the Japanese residents arrested in New Caledonia demonstrates the importance of geographical location for both the protecting power and ICRC’s access to internees for their effective representation. Yet, the case of the Japanese interned in Nouville demonstrates that neither the ICRC nor the Japanese government forgot about them and both continued to campaign for access and information on the conditions under which they had been held throughout the war.

References Archival Sources ANC: Archives de la Nouvelle-Calédonie. FDA: French Diplomatic Archives, Nantes. MOFA: Diplomatic Archives of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Japan. NAA: National Archives of Australia. TNA: The National Archives, UK.

Literature Beaumont, Joan, Ilma Martinuzzi O’Brien and Mathew Trinca, eds. 2008. Under Suspicion: Citizenship and Internment in Australia during the Second World War. Canberra: National Museum of Australia. Bennett, Judith. 2009. Japanese Wartime Internees in New Zealand. Journal of Pacific History 44: 61–76. Délégation en Australie. 1944. Délégations du Comité International dans les Cinq Continents. Revue Internationale de la Croix-Rouge 301: 16–17. Délégation en Australie. 1945. Délégations du Comité International dans les Cinq Continents. Revue Internationale de la Croix-Rouge 320: 585–586.

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Délégation en Australie. 1945. Délégations du Comité International dans les Cinq Continents. Revue Internationale de la Croix-Rouge 322: 746–749. Délégation en Nouvelle-Zélande. 1942. Délégations du Comité International dans les Cinq Continents. Revue Internationale de la Croix-Rouge 283: 466. Elkner, Cate, et al. 2005. Enemy Aliens: The Internment of Italian Migrants in Australia during the Second World War. Bacchus Marsh, Victoria: Connor Court. Hiramatsu Ireland, Benjamin. 2019. Nippo-Kanaks in Post-War New Caledonia: Race, Law, Politics and Identity. Portal: Journal of Multidisciplinary International Studies 16, 1–2: 11–28. International Committee of the Red Cross. Geneva Convention of 1949 and Additional Protocols and their Commentaries. https://ihl-databases.icrc.org/ applic/ihl/ihl.nsf/vwTreaties1949.xsp. Accessed July 7, 2020. International Committee of the Red Cross. Protecting Powers. https://cas ebook.icrc.org/glossary/protecting-powers. Accessed May 21, 2020. International Committee of the Red Cross. 2017. Commentary on the Second Geneva Convention: Convention (II) for the Amelioration of the Condition of Wounded, Sick and Shipwrecked Members of Armed Forces at Sea. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Kobayashi, Tadao. 1980. Ny¯ u karedoniat¯ o no nihonjin (2nd edition). Tokyo: Ryokuchisha. Kovner, Sarah. 2017. A War of Words: Allied Captivity and Swiss Neutrality in the Pacific, 1941–1945. Diplomatic History 41, 2: 719–746. Levie, Howard S. 1961. Prisoners of War and the Protecting Power. The American Journal of International Law 55, 2: 374–397. Lingard, Jan. 2008. Refugees and Rebels: Indonesian Exiles in Wartime Australia, North Melbourne: Australian Scholarly Publishing. Lottaz, Pascal. 2018. Neutrality and Wartime Japan. In Notions of Neutralities, eds. Pascal Lottaz and Herbert R. Reginbogin, 113–133. Lanham, Maryland: Lexington Books. Moorehead, Caroline. 1998. Dunant’s Dream—War, Switzerland and the History of the Red Cross. New York: Carroll & Graf. Munholland, Kim. 2005. Rock of Contention: Free French and Americans at War in New Caledonia, 1940–1945. New York & Oxford: Berghahn Books. Nagata, Yuriko. 1996. Unwanted Aliens: Japanese Internment in Australia. St Lucia: Queensland University Press. Neumann, Klaus. 2006. In the Interests of National Security: Civilian Internment in Australia during World War II . National Archives of Australia: Canberra. Obituary “Léon Bossard”. 1964. International Review of the Red Cross 4, 41: 438–439.

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Peirce, George A.B. 1980. Humanitarian Protection for the Victims of War: The System of Protecting Powers and the Role of the ICRC. Military Law Review 90, 1: 89–162. Scheck, Raffael. 2014. French Colonial Soldiers in German Captivity during World War II . Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. State Department Bulletin. 1945. Japan’s Proposal for Reciprocal Visits to Internee Camps’, XII, 294: 191–192. https://books.google.com.au/books? id=0FNf0ffjiPQC&pg=PA191&lpg=PA191&dq=Japan%E2%80%99s+Pro posal+for+Reciprocal+Visits+to+Internee+Camp&source=bl&ots=z5qtnW jazt&sig=ACfU3U2efUplUchJTWDx-8kKNz34CMqNHA&hl=en&sa=X& ved=2ahUKEwi6nqnlq-vmAhUv73MBHVGzBMQQ6AEwAHoECAwQAQ# v=onepage&q=Japan%E2%80%99s%20Proposal%20for%20Reciprocal%20V isits%20to%20Internee%20Camp&f=false. Accessed January 5, 2020. Twomey, Christina. 2007. Australia’s Forgotten Prisoners: Civilians Interned by the Japanese in World War Two. Cambridge & New York: Cambridge University Press. Ward, Rowena G. 2016. Repatriating the Japanese From New Caledonia, 1941– 1946. Journal of Pacific History 51, 4: 392–408. Ward, Rowena G. 2017. The Internment and Repatriation of the JapaneseFrench Nationals Resident in New Caledonia, 1941–1946. Portal Journal of Multidisciplinary International Studies 14, 2: 55–67. Ward, Rowena. 2018. Female Japanese Citizens in New Caledonia: PreDecember 1941. Pacific Dynamics: Journal of Interdisciplinary Research 2, 1: 45–52. Whiteman, Marjorie M. 1963. Digest of International Law. Vol. 7. Washington, DC: Department of State. Winter, Christine. 2010. The Long Arm of the Third Reich, Journal of Pacific History 38, 1: 85–108. U.S. Naval Liaison Officer. 1943. Japanese in New Caledonia. http://www. ibiblio.org/hyperwar/NHC/FirstMarAmphCorps1943-01-13JapaneseNe wCaledonia/FirstMarAmphCorps1943-01-13JapaneseNewCaledonia.html. Accessed December 29, 2019.

CHAPTER 6

Japanese Prisoners of War, the American-Soviet Conflict, and the Role of Repatriated War Veterans in the Early Cold War in East Asia Frank Jacob

The Cold War was a “battle for the hearts and minds”1 of the people, especially in Asia, which can hardly be called peripheral with regard to this global conflict anymore.2 On this continent, decolonization, antiimperialist struggles, growing nationalism, the decline of the Japanese Empire and the end of the occupation of many former Southeast Asian colonies collided during the early Cold War. These events demanded that the American occupation government of Japan develop a viable 1 Liu Hong and Michael Szonyi, “Introduction: New Approaches to the Study of the Cold War,” in The Cold War in Asia: The Battle for Hearts and Minds, eds. Liu Hong, Michael Szonyi, and Zheng Yangwen (Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2010), 1. 2 For a detailed discussion, see Frank Jacob, ed. Peripheries of the Cold War (Würzburg: Königshausen & Neumann, 2015).

F. Jacob (B) Nord University, Bodø, Norway e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 M. Berni and T. Cubito (eds.), Captivity in War during the Twentieth Century, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-65095-7_6

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strategy for the future. In the Global South, the emerging Cold War was anything but “cold,” as several proxy wars between the global superpowers were fought in this region.3 Thus, attempts to influence the people’s imagination in particular were an essential part of the conflict.4 In Japan, the early Cold War presented a problem for the Supreme Commander of the Allied Powers (SCAP), General Douglas MacArthur. Although he might have “defined his role from the start as that of a sort of latter-day shogun, aloof from the masses of ordinary Japanese,”5 MacArthur had to deal with and address problems that went beyond his personal influence, even beyond the national perspective of his occupation rule, thereby becoming a transnational actor himself. One question that the “professional soldier” MacArthur, who “was given the post of civil administrator in Japan,”6 had to deal with was the one about Japanese prisoners of war who were still being held by the Soviet Union after 1945. While recent works have emphasized the personalization of the occupation and the Americans’ policy in Japan under the “Caesar of the Pacific”7 who “impose[d] democracy like a dictator,”8 this chapter focuses on a truly transnational issue. It highlights the discussions about and treatment of Japanese prisoners of war in the Soviet Union and how far this turned 3 Immanuel Wallerstein, “What Cold War in Asia? An Interpretative Essay,” in The Cold War in Asia: The Battle for Hearts and Minds, eds. Liu Hong, Michael Szonyi, and Zheng Yangwen (Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2010), 19. 4 Benjamin Ziemann, “Situating Peace Movements in the Political Culture of the Cold War,” in Peace Movements in Western Europe, Japan and the USA during the Cold War, ed. Benjamin Ziemann (Essen: Klartext, 2007), 11. 5 Robert B. Textor, “Success in Japan—Despite Some Human Foibles and Cultural Problems,” in MacArthur and the American Century: A Reader, ed. William M. Leary (Lincoln/London: University of Nebraska Press, 2001), 258; Robert Harvey, American Shogun: MacArthur, Hirohito and the American Duel with Japan (London: John Murray, 2006). 6 Justin Williams, Sr., Japan’s Political Revolution Under MacArthur (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1979), 263. 7 John Gunther, The Riddle of MacArthur: Japan, Korea and the Far East (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1951), 1. Robert Harvey called MacArthur a “proconsul of a defeated nation, military dictator of 75 million people.” For recent research, see Robert Harvey, American Shogun: MacArthur, Hirohito and the American Duel with Japan (London: John Murray, 2006), 306 and Russell D. Buhite, Douglas MacArthur: Statecraft and Stagecraft in America’s East Asian Policy (Lanham et al.: Rowman & Littlefield, 2008), 72. 8 Gunther, The Riddle of MacArthur, 9.

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the “American shogun” and his staff into transnational actors in the early days of the Cold War.9 Although an agreement was signed between the US and the Soviet Union, according to which the prisoners of war were to return to Japan after the Second World War, large numbers of prisoners remained unaccounted for, and the Soviet representative in the Allied Council for Japan10 was not willing to discuss their whereabouts. In addition to this, the return of politically influenced and likely pro-communist soldiers posed a severe threat to the US occupation of Japan. The prisoners of war, once returned, consequently needed special surveillance during their reintegration into Japan’s post-war society as they were considered a menace on account of their possible politicization in the Soviet Union. The present chapter looks, therefore, at the role of Japanese prisoners of war both in the Soviet Union and in Japan after their return, focusing on their fate through the protocols of the Allied Council for Japan as well as their potential to threaten the post-war order after their return. Unsurprisingly, especially after their return, they were considered a communist menace to the Americans’ work in the cities of the island nation.

MacArthur’s Rule of Japan With his “overarching ego,”11 MacArthur demanded that the Japanese surrender be declared in his presence weeks after the armistice, thus officially ending the Second World War in the Pacific. This decision prevented the fast liberation of Allied prisoners of war in Japanese hands, for which the conservative general was later criticized.12 Once Japan had accepted its war was over, MacArthur headed to Japan, and was the first Allied 9 On Japanese prisoners of war in Siberia, see Kurihara Toshio, Shiberia yokury¯ u : mikan no higeki (Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 2010). 10 The Allied Council for Japan was established by various foreign ministers at a conference in Moscow in December 1945. The council, whose members represented China, Great Britain and the Commonwealth, the Soviet Union, and the United States, was supposed to control the work of the Supreme Commander of the Allied Powers with regard to the Japanese occupation. 11 Mark Felton, The Final Betrayal: Mountbatten, MacArthur and the Tragedy of Japanese POWs (Barnsley: Pen & Sword, 2010), 41. 12 Ibid., 142–143. On the life and sorrows of allied prisoners of war in Japanese camps, see Frank Jacob, Japanese War Crimes during World War II: Atrocity and the Psychology of Collective Violence (Santa Barbara, CA: Praeger, 2018), 109–131.

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representative to land at Atsugi airbase on August 30, 1945.13 The US general had not underestimated his enemy, especially during the operations in the Pacific.14 But he, in contrast to others who had doubts about Japan’s willingness to surrender,15 was sure that there would be no resistance and “had dismissed that danger from his mind.”16 On his route to Yokohama, the streets were lined and secured by 30,000 Japanese soldiers, who showed their acceptance of the new ruler of Japan.17 Throughout the war, the Japanese had, of course, heard of MacArthur and followed his military endeavours closely.18 MacArthur’s move to land in Japan alone and without large military support, which has been referred to as “the greatest gamble in modern history,”19 must also partly be considered an act of “absolute foolhardiness.”20 At Potsdam in July 1945, the Allied powers had agreed Japan was to be occupied in the aftermath of the war. MacArthur, who was to be responsible for the occupation, planned to make use of previous plans drawn up by the State-War-Navy-Coordinating Committee and sold them as his

13 Buhite, Douglas MacArthur, 69. 14 “International, Australia: The authorities in MacArthur’s office warn against an

underestimation of Japanese marine transport,” n.d. [presumably 1944], National Archives of Japan, Cabinet, Intelligence Materials, Various Reports and Records/Information obtained by monitoring American domestic broadcasts, A03024987900. 15 “International, News on Japan: A spokesman of MacArthur makes complaints about the increased power of the Japanese air force,” March 9 [presumably 1944], National Archives of Japan, Cabinet, Intelligence Materials, Various Reports and Records/Information obtained by monitoring American domestic broadcasts, A03024955500. 16 Theodore Cohen, Remaking Japan: The American Occupation as New Deal (New York: The Free Press, 1987), 52. 17 Harvey, American Shogun, 307; Masuda Hiroshi, MacArthur in Asia: The General and His Staff in the Philippines, Japan, and Korea (Ithaca/London: Cornell University Press, 2012), 193. 18 “International, Italy: MacArthur appointed to be the Commander-in-Chief of the Southeast Asian district,” September 20 [presumably 1942], National Archives of Japan, Cabinet, Intelligence Materials, Various Reports and Records/Information obtained by monitoring American domestic broadcasts, A03025223200. 19 Gunther, The Riddle of MacArthur, 1. 20 Harvey, American Shogun, 307.

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own.21 At the same time, MacArthur needed to think about the occupation from a military perspective as well, because his “immediate objectives were the early introduction of occupying forces into major strategic areas, the control of critical ports, port facilities, and airfields, and the demobilization and disarmament of enemy troops.”22 The Japanese Emperor had declared the end of the war on August 15 and instructed his subordinates to “beware most strictly of any outburst of emotion, which may engender needless complications, and refrain from fraternal contention and strife which may create confusion, lead ye astray and cause ye to lose the confidence of the world.”23 Nevertheless, it was unclear if the Japanese people would accept defeat and surrender. During the occupation, MacArthur “bestrode the land like a Colossus, and the Japanese called him ‘father.’”24 Residing on the eighth floor of the Dai-Ichi-Building in Tokyo, the general left Japan only twice during the occupation and hardly cared for Washington’s interest in Japanese affairs. While MacArthur wanted to run Japan as a national enterprise under his rule, the issues of the East Asian post-war order and the beginning of the Cold War forced him to take transnational issues into consideration, too. Backed by his loyal officers,25 among them Brigadier General Spencer B. Akin, Brigadier General Hugh J. Casey and Brigadier General Harold H. George, to name just a few, the so-called “Bataan Boys,”26 MacArthur considered himself the only authority in Japan and relied on the officers he had under his command throughout the war. He was not interested in administrative advice, but rather ran a military operation according to his own ideas and wishes. Only his officers were allowed to visit the general, and when Emperor Hirohito was allowed to

21 Buhite, Douglas MacArthur, 68–69; William L. Neumann, America Encounters Japan: From Perry to MacArthur (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1963), 294. 22 General Staff of GHQ, ed., Reports of General MacArthur: The Campaigns of MacArthur in the Pacific, vol. 1 (Washington: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1966), 444. 23 Ibid., 445. 24 Cohen, Remaking Japan, 53. 25 Faubion Bowers, “The Late General MacArthur, Warts and All,” in MacArthur and

the American Century: A Reader, ed. William M. Leary (Lincoln/London: University of Nebraska Press, 2001), 241. 26 Masuda, MacArthur in Asia, 9–26 discusses the “Origins of the Bataan Boys.”

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meet MacArthur, he “bowed deeper than ever.”27 The general was nevertheless a pragmatic man, who declared after the famous meeting that “I could have humiliated him, publicly exposed him, but what for? I fought the war; he ended it. He deserves respect, the magnanimous gesture a noble defeated enemy deserves. Besides, with him as figurehead, our job is so much more easy.”28 MacArthur’s first orders to the Japanese people clearly emphasized the new order and his own role within it: “All persons will obey promptly all my orders and orders issued under my authority. Acts of resistance … will be punished severely.… Further proclamations, ordinances, regulations, notices, directives and enactments will be issued by me or under my authority, and will specify what is required of you and what you are forbidden to do.”29 MacArthur also made it understood that no form of resistance against his orders was to be accepted: “Any person who: Violates the provisions of the Instrument of the Surrender, or any proclamation, order, or directive given under the authority of the Supreme Commander for the Allied Powers … [will] suffer death or such other punishment as the Court may determine.”30 The general’s influence could consequently be felt with regard to many new structures, although they might have been planned earlier,31 and “he left his stamp on the Japanese bureaucracy, the Emperor institution, the feudal aristocracy, the diet, the family, religion, freedom, disarmament, education, the

27 Bowers, “The Late General MacArthur, Warts and All,” 253. 28 Ibid. 29 “General Headquarters, Supreme Commander for the Allied Powers, Proclamation No. 1,” September 2, 1945, Japanese National Institute for Defense Studies, Ministry of Defense, Army Records, C12120339600. My emphasis. 30 “General Headquarters, Supreme Commander for the Allied Powers, Proclamation No. 2,” September 2, 1945, Japanese National Institute for Defense Studies, Ministry of Defense, Army Records, C12120339700. 31 Robert E. Ward, “Presurrender Planning: The Treatment of the Emperor and Constitutional Changes,” in Democratizing Japan: The Allied Occupation, eds. Robert E. Ward and Sakamoto Yoshikazu (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1987), 37–38.

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legal system, farm tenancy, [and] labor.”32 At the same time, demilitarization, democratization, and the establishment of a strong peacetime economy were important.33 The fast transition to a peaceful society also caused problems for the many prisoners of war who returned to Japan after their release from China and the Soviet Union, as they could no longer continue their military work or career and had to reintegrate themselves into post-war society. Naturally, this caused social tensions, comparable to that other veterans had to deal with in other national and chronological contexts, e.g. in the aftermath of the First World War.34 While MacArthur, as mentioned before, wanted to deal with the occupation of Japan locally and disliked any intervention from abroad, even from Washington, the issue of Japanese prisoners of war overseas caused a transnational dilemma for the general, who himself, perhaps unwillingly, turned into a transnational actor in the early period of the Cold War. The remaining part of the present chapter will consequently deal with the problem caused by the Allied-Soviet struggle over the fate of those former Japanese soldiers imprisoned in the Soviet Union and their later repatriation to Japan’s post-war society.

32 Williams, Japan’s Political Revolution, 267. See also Hata Ikuhiko, “Japan unter amerikanischer Besatzung,” in Zwei zaghafte Riesen? Deutschland und Japan seit 1945, eds. Arnulf Baring and Masamori Sase (Stuttgart/Zürich: Belser, 1977), 204; Masuda, MacArthur in Asia, 205. On his flight to Japan in 1945, MacArthur had formulated the following eleven aims: 1. the destruction of Japan’s military might, 2. The establishment of a representative government, 3. women’s right to vote, 4. the release of political prisoners, 5. the liberation of peasants, 6. freedoms of the workers’ movement, 7. a free economy, 8. the end of police rule and suppression, 9. a free press, 10. free education, and 11. political decentralization. Hata Ikuhiko, “The Occupation of Japan, 1945–1952,” in MacArthur and the American Century: A Reader, ed. William M. Leary (Lincoln/London: University of Nebraska Press, 2001), 320. 33 Reinhard Zöllner, Geschichte Japans: Von 1800 bis zur Gegenwart (Paderborn et. al.: UTB, 2006), 385. 34 For a detailed discussion, see Frank Jacob and Stefan Karner, eds., War and Veterans: Treatment and Reintegration of Soldiers in Post-War Societies (Paderborn: Brill/Schöningh, 2020).

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Japanese Prisoners of War During the Early Cold War After MacArthur had “conquered” Japan, he and his occupation forces had to deal with the demilitarization of the former enemy. Many Japanese soldiers had experienced the end of the war while stationed abroad, and those who had been serving in China, more specifically Manchuria, had been taken captive in 1945 by either China or the Soviet Union. This caused problems for the US occupation government in Japan as well, since these prisoners of war were to be repatriated to Japan. Lieutenant Commander William J. Sebald, the Deputy of the Supreme Commander within the Allied Council for Japan, reported at the 104th meeting of the Council on January 4, 1950 that the SCAP had successfully repatriated most of the approximately 3.5 million Japanese soldiers who had been stationed abroad. In general, as Sebald continued to elaborate, the repatriation of Japanese prisoners of war from abroad had gone ahead without any issue, however “[t]he exception relates to the Union of the Soviet Socialist Republics, which many months after the repatriation of Japanese from other areas had been completed, still held several hundreds of thousands of Japanese in detainment.”35 Japanese prisoners of war, along with prisoners of war from other nations, were held for months in Soviet working camps in the aftermath of the war because the leadership of the Soviet Union were not interested in letting their prisoners return quickly but rather wanted to exploit their labour for as long as possible. The issue of the repatriation of the Japanese prisoners of war held abroad had been taken into consideration for the first time on June 26, 1946. On October 29, 1947, the subject was again “fully discussed, with Major General Kislenko, representing the member for the Soviet Union., taking full part in the deliberations,”36 but “it was already apparent that 35 Corrected Verbatim Minutes of the One Hundred-Fourth Meeting (Special) Allied Council for Japan, Meiji Building, Tokyo, Wednesday, January 4, 1950, MacArthur Memorial Archives (henceforth MAMA), Record Group 5 (henceforth RG 5), Records of General Headquarters, Supreme Commander for the Allied Powers (SCAP), 1945–1951, Box 71, Folder 16, 4. 36 Corrected Verbatim Minutes of the One Hundred-Thirteenth Meeting Allied Council for Japan, Meiji Building, Tokyo, Wednesday, May 10, 1950, MAMA, RG 5, Records of General Headquarters, Supreme Commander for the Allied Powers (SCAP), 1945–1951, Box 71, Folder 16, 1.

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the implementation by the Soviet authorities of the Repatriation Agreement of December 19, 1946 was spasmodic, delayed by excuses, and partly nullified by devious unilateral interpretations.”37 The Soviet Union intended to exploit the workforce of the Japanese prisoners of war for as long as possible. The other Allied Council members argued that “the Soviet Government has at no time provided us with any information whatsoever with respect to the number of Japanese held, their names or location, or any form of vital statistics by which we might know the number who have died by disease, undernourishment, exposure, or maltreatment.”38 It was obvious that Moscow did not want to discuss the issue any further, which is why its representative usually did not participate in the meetings of the Council. Nevertheless, the topic regularly appeared on the agenda, and Chairman pro tempore for the US, Cloyce K. Huston, accused the Soviet representative of obstructive behaviour at the 107th meeting on February 15, 1950 and felt “impelled to note, however, before proceeding to today’s business, that we have seen the Soviet member walk out of this Council chamber, with his staff, at three previous meetings when the question of Japanese repatriation was under discussion, and today is the second meeting from which he appears deliberately to have absented himself.”39 This absence was problematic for the remaining Council members, as “it is difficult to understand how, if he refuses to attend the meetings of the Council or to participate in the conduct of the Council’s business, he can find it possible to consider himself to be fulfilling the functions for which he is assigned to this headquarters.”40 The death rate among the Japanese prisoners of war was rumoured to be around 20–30%, but without concrete evidence from the Soviet side, this remained pure speculation. Their fate, however, was discussed

37 Ibid., 2. 38 Corrected Verbatim Minutes of the One Hundred-Sixth Meeting Allied Council for

Japan, Meiji Building, Tokyo, Wednesday, February 1, 1950, MAMA, RG 5, Records of General Headquarters, Supreme Commander for the Allied Powers (SCAP), 1945–1951, Box 71, Folder 16, 5. 39 Corrected Verbatim Minutes of the One Hundred-Seventh Meeting Allied Council for Japan, Meiji Building, Tokyo, Wednesday, February 15, 1950, MAMA, RG 5, Records of General Headquarters, Supreme Commander for the Allied Powers (SCAP), 1945– 1951, Box 71, Folder 16, 2. 40 Ibid.

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multiple times, including in relation to international law.41 The remaining members of the Allied Council eventually declared that the Soviet Union had violated international laws and existent agreements related to the repatriation of prisoners of war after the Second World War. The Soviet government was also accused of having failed to “provide an accounting of any kind with respect to prisoners of war and civilians incarcerated by the Soviet authorities … to report the death of any Japanese subject while in Soviet custody” and therefore “to comply with the provision of the Potsdam Declaration.” Since no effort had been made to address questions about this issue in the Allied Council, and since rumours about “the use of prisoners of war for political purposes through the process of political indoctrination” had become known in Japan, the Soviet Union was perceived as an obstructionist power that used human beings as political bargaining chips in a new great power conflict.42 However, in practice, there was not much the Allies could do. The Japanese had already provided the SCAP with a list of those who had been captured at the end of the war, but of the 760,000 men, many were missing, and over 300,000 men were still unaccounted for five years after the end of the war. Sebald therefore wrote to Lieutenant General Kuzma N. Derevyanko again on April 29, 1950 to find out about their whereabouts.43 The Japanese House of Representatives also got involved. They urged that all Japanese taken prisoners by the Soviet Union were repatriated as soon as possible and that the name of all those still being held by the Soviets or who had died in their care be communicated to Japan. Furthermore, they demanded an independent investigation of the issue, by either the United Nations or any other neutral or humanitarian body.44

41 Ibid., 11. 42 Quotes from ibid., 14–15. 43 William J. Sebald, Allied Council for Japan to the General Headquarters of the

Supreme Commander of the Allied Powers, Diplomatic Section to Lieutenant General Kuzma N. Derevyanko, Member for the Soviet Socialist Republics, Tokyo, April 29, 1950. MAMA, RG 5, Records of General Headquarters, Supreme Commander for the Allied Powers (SCAP), 1945–1951, Box 71, Folder 16, 1–2. 44 Resolution of the House of Representatives, Tokyo, May 2, 1950. MAMA, RG 5, Records of General Headquarters, Supreme Commander for the Allied Powers (SCAP), 1945–1951, Box 71, Folder 16.

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The Soviet Union, however, remained adamant. The US and its supporters repeated the Japanese requests, but the representative of the Soviet Union ignored them with the same frequency. In comparison to the repatriation of Japanese prisoners of war from China, the Soviet Union lacked the willingness to comply with the agreements of 1945 and 1946. General Ho Shai-lai, who sat on the Council for the Republic of China, emphasized that his government had done everything necessary to ensure the fast repatriation of prisoners of war, and the general was “glad to state that my government’s handling of the Japanese repatriates was done efficiently and without any feeling of enmity or bitterness.”45 Sebald eventually concluded that “the Soviet Government must have some good reason for not giving [a] conscientious and forthright reply to all the requests it has received for information regarding the Japanese prisoners. Can it be that the Soviet Government does not have this information — that it has never known the number, names, and locations of these Japanese?”.46 Eventually, most of the missing prisoners of war under discussion never returned to Japan. Those who did come back returned to a country under reconstruction—around 18,000 returned in 1946, 166,000 in 1947, 175,000 in 1948, 97,000 in 1949, and some 1,500 in 1950.47 Consequently, these returnees had to reintegrate into a society that was not at peace and whose members were unwilling to look back and deal with their past. To many, the veterans became a steady reminder of a violent past. In addition, they were considered a dangerous element by the occupation authorities, especially since they had been held by an emerging ideological enemy for months, if not years.

45 Corrected Verbatim Minutes of the One Hundred-Nineteenth Meeting Allied Council for Japan, Meiji Building, Tokyo, Wednesday, August 2, 1950, MAMA, RG 5, Records of General Headquarters, Supreme Commander for the Allied Powers (SCAP), 1945–1951, Box 71, Folder 16, 8. 46 Ibid., 5. 47 For more detailed documentation on the Japanese prisoners of war in the Soviet

Union, see the related documents in Maksim Matveevich et al., eds., Voennoplennye v SSSR 1939–1956: Dokumenty i materialy (Moscow: Logos, 2000).

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The Perceived Menace of Ideologized Veterans When Japanese soldiers who had been stationed on the Asian mainland became prisoners of war of China and the Soviet Union in the aftermath of the war, it was uncertain to what degree they would be able to accept the new conditions at home upon their return. Americans and Japanese alike feared that repatriated Japanese prisoners of war from Soviet prison camps would establish a fifth column. In a “Summary of the Communist World Strategy” produced for MacArthur’s administration, American professor Thomas George emphasized the significance of Asia in the conflict between the US and the Soviet Union, especially due to the continent’s human potential.48 It was obvious for the professor that “the greatest human potential is in Asia, and thus who has Asia will finally have the world.”49 It was, therefore, necessary to secure American control in East Asia, a fact that became even more obvious after the communist victory in the Chinese Civil War and the “loss” of China. The Korean War as a proxy war between the superpowers also demonstrated that a better regional strategy for East Asia was urgently required. George, in another evaluation, warned US policy makers not to underestimate the role of Japan and China for the security of the region: “All actions, all consultations, how safe South East Asia, [the] Middle East, and even Japan [would be], once China is definitely lost, are just childish talks, and vain excitations. Once China is definitely communist, nobody and nothing, on one atomic force, will prevent all of Asia from becoming communists, with … consequences for the entire world.”50 Japan, after 1949, was consequently even more important as a bridgehead in East Asia and was supposed to defend the “free democratic world” against the “communist menace.” Of course, such a picture was related to paranoid fears of a communist invasion of the United States; but with regard to its East Asian perspective, the academic’s evaluation was not too far from

48 Thomas George, A Summary of the Communist World Strategy, n.d., MAMA, RG

5, Records of General Headquarters, Supreme Commander for the Allied Powers (SCAP), 1945–1951, Box 71, Folder 16, 5. 49 Ibid. 50 Thomas George, Is the Basic Western Attitude and Basic Strategy Concerning the

World Communism Realistic?, n.d., MAMA, RG 5, Records of General Headquarters, Supreme Commander for the Allied Powers (SCAP), 1945–1951, Box 71, Folder 16, 12.

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the political reality. With China “lost” to the communists and Korea in a state of war, the “Japanese issue” became increasingly important. As around 450,000 of the 760,000 Japanese soldiers who became prisoners of war in the Soviet Union were repatriated between 1946 and 1949, perceived challenges on different fronts became evident. A special report of the Civil Intelligence Section dated December 15, 1946 highlighted numerous problems that needed to be addressed or at least taken into consideration by MacArthur’s occupation government. First of all, the report described the security issue represented by veterans within Japanese society, where 59,000 soldiers of the occupation force and 84,000 policemen were supposed to control 73,000,000 Japanese, with around 5,000,000 demobilized soldiers among them. The professor argued that “[t]his demobilizing block, once led into the path of Communism, will permeate and influence the rest of these vast millions, and instantly create serious problems for the Occupation Forces in the maintenance of public order.”51 The fears of former Japanese soldiers getting involved in communist and anti-American agitation was related to economic problems with regard to their reintegration in a peacetime society which had just abolished its own army (Article 9 of the new constitution). The report consequently provided “some considerations” for MacArthur’s staff. Following its arguments, the returning veterans were “disillusioned, jobless, [and] easy prey for subversive ideas, especially communism,” and therefore needed special observation. The success of communist ideas in the labour unions in particular had already provided a breeding ground for communist anti-Americanism, and the millions of jobless veterans were thought to further increase the communist menace that was already present in the country. Consequently, it was recommended that “[t]he repatriated exsoldier be controlled [and that t]he demobilized millions be influenced in thoughts and actions in order to remain tranquil within the purview of our occupation.”52 Thus, measures were introduced that allowed for their economic and social reintegration into the Japanese post-war society. At the same time, 51 Final Report: Demobilization of the Japanese Armed Forces, Dec. 15, 1946, in Civil Intelligence Section, Special Report: Jap[anese] Repatriated from Soviet Territory, Communist Indoctrination, MAMA, RG 6, Records of General Headquarters Far East Command (FECOM), 1947–1951, Box 17, Folder 5, 1. 52 Ibid., 2.

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however, the social problems caused by them remained virulent, culminating in rumours that “the Japan Communist Party is greatly concerned with repatriates” and was busy with a “propaganda campaign pursued relentlessly in internment camps,” while communists were steadily trying to “infiltrate community and family circles by sponsoring and supporting popular movements, and seeking to enlist repatriates and their associates into the Party.”53 In addition, they seemed to be successful, especially due to the problematic economic situation for the Japanese population in general and for veterans in particular. MacArthur thereafter received additional reports from Japanese repatriates about the political brainwashing employed by the Soviet government in prisoner of war camps. According to some of the 1,500 repatriated prisoners of war who reached Japanese shores on January 21, 1950, prisoners in the Soviet camps were subjected to propaganda and communist indoctrination attempts.54 Sebald informed his colleagues at the Allied Council about these reports during the 108th meeting on March 1, 1950: [N]umerous reports [have been] received by General Headquarters from Japanese repatriates concerning the systematic program of political indoctrination being carried out by the authorities of the Soviet Union in an effort to convert Japanese prisoners of war to communism. So much evidence in this regard has been received as to leave no further doubt of the Soviet intention to force Japanese prisoners of war to accept communist ideology as a condition determining their selection for repatriation that it would seem unnecessary for me to dwell further upon this aspect of the repatriation problem.55

53 To CoS and C-in-C, Brief, GHQ FECOM, February 2, 1949: Jap[anese] Repatriates From Soviet Territory: Communist Indoctrination. General Headquarters, Far East Command, Military Intelligence Section, General Staff, in Civil Intelligence Section, Special Report: Jap[anese] Repatriated from Soviet Territory, Communist Indoctrination, MAMA, RG 6, Records of Headquarters, Far East Command (FECOM), 1947–1951, Box 17, Folder 5. 54 Corrected Verbatim Minutes of the One Hundred-Sixth Meeting Allied Council for Japan, Meiji Building, Tokyo, Wednesday, February 1, 1950, MAMA, RG 5, Records of General Headquarters, Supreme Commander for the Allied Powers (SCAP), 1945–1951, Box 71, Folder 16, 6. 55 Corrected Verbatim Minutes of the One Hundred-Eighth Meeting Allied Council for Japan, Meiji Building, Tokyo, Wednesday, March 1, 1950, MAMA, RG 5, Records of

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Sebald also read out some of the affidavits of the Japanese prisoners of war who had been interviewed upon their return. Matsu Shigeto, Yoshimoto Ryoi and Kobayashi Shoichi reported, among other things, that a message by the Japanese Communist Party (JCP) was read to the prisoners, which stated that only those who were democratized along party lines would be allowed to be repatriated by the Soviet authorities.56 The message, so the reports said, had been sent to the Soviets by Tokuda Kyuichi, Secretary-General of the JCP. These reports were considered to be “serious charges, implying as they do a direct relationship between the Secretary-General of the Japanese Communist Party and the Soviet authorities, whereby the former has placed himself in the position of an arbiter with respect to the lives of thousands of his fellow Japanese compatriots.”57 Many repatriates were consequently greeted with suspicion and concerns about their political loyalty as well as their potential to threaten MacArthur’s post-war order.

Conclusion Veterans and repatriated prisoners of war in particular, often have to deal with problems related to their reintegration into post-war societies. The fate of former Japanese prisoners of war in the emerging Cold War was transformed after the end of the Second World War into a diplomatic proxy war, in which transnational actors played a considerable role as well. MacArthur had begun to reframe Japan according to his own ideas, and in this process, he had to operate as a transnational actor to deal with issues on the national as well as the international level. Among these, the repatriation of Japanese prisoners of war from the Soviet Union was the most pressing. Requests on the whereabouts of missing soldiers were not answered by the Soviet representative on the Allied Council. Hence, in 1950, thousands of Japanese prisoners of war still remained missing in the Soviet Union. The fate of these missing prisoners of war consequently turned into an issue of transnational diplomacy and was at the centre of a power struggle in the early years of the Cold War in East Asia.

General Headquarters, Supreme Commander for the Allied Powers (SCAP), 1945–1951, Box 71, Folder 16, 3. 56 Ibid., 5–7. 57 Ibid., 8.

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On the one hand, the Soviet Union tried to slow down the repatriation process in order to exploit the workforce of the prisoners of war and, on the other hand, it tried to hide the number of deaths in the Soviet prison camps, similar to the fate suffered by German prisoners in the Soviet Union between 1945 and 1949 and the debate about numbers of missing that continued to 1956. Similarly, the Allied Council for Japan had to address the issue over a five-year period without really solving the problem; essentially, this represented a deadlock in US-Soviet relations. In addition, repatriated prisoners of war were considered a political menace in the spirit of an emerging McCarthyism in the USA. Thus, an inconvenient fear that they would represent a communist fifth column in Japan, which might fall under the spell of Soviet communism was palpable. In hindsight the danger of a communist coup d’état initiated by former prisoners of war was relatively small, thus the American occupying power reacted somewhat exaggeratedly. The bilateral issue of the repatriation of Japanese prisoners of war from the Soviet Union to US-ruled Japan was embedded in a transnational and symbolic conflict of societal systems. Consequently, MacArthur and his Bataan Boys found themselves in administrative charge of these time-consuming negations which depended on the cooperation of other parties. These negotiations went rather well when dealing with Chinese representatives but were slow-going and arduous when negotiating with Soviet representatives. The Soviets clearly pursued their own goals. On the one hand, they were keen on benefiting from the manpower of the prisoners of war, and on the other hand, they took advantage of them as a political instrument to demonstrate strength to the Americans in the beginning Cold War. Their repatriation to Japan thus only became possible if Moscow gave approval. For both sides, the former soldiers consequently became pawns in the great chess game of international relations. Thus, they became victims caught up in the bipolar struggle for power in a global war.

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References Archival Sources MacArthur Memorial Archives RG 5: Records of General Headquarters, Supreme Commander for the Allied Powers (SCAP), 1945–1951. RG 6: Records of General Headquarters Far East Command (FECOM), 1947– 1951. National Archives of Japan A03024955500 A03024987900 A03025223200 Japanese National Institute for Defense Studies, Ministry of Defense C12120339600 C12120339700

Literature Bowers, Faubion. 2001. The Late General MacArthur, Warts and All. In MacArthur and the American Century: A Reader, ed. William M. Leary, 241–256. Lincoln/London: University of Nebraska Press. Buhite, Russell D. 2008. Douglas MacArthur: Statecraft and Stagecraft in America’s East Asian Policy. Lanham et al.: Rowman & Littlefield. Cohen, Theodore. 1987. Remaking Japan: The American Occupation as New Deal. New York: The Free Press. Felton, Mark. 2010. The Final Betrayal: Mountbatten, MacArthur and the Tragedy of Japanese POWs. Barnsley: Pen & Sword. General Staff of GHQ, ed. 1966. Reports of General MacArthur: The Campaigns of MacArthur in the Pacific, vol. 1. Washington: U.S. Government Printing Office. Gunther, John. 1951. The Riddle of MacArthur: Japan, Korea and the Far East. New York: Harper & Brothers. Harvey, Robert. 2006. American Shogun: MacArthur, Hirohito and the American Duel with Japan. London: John Murray. Hata, Ikuhiko. 1977. Japan unter amerikanischer Besatzung. In Zwei zaghafte Riesen? Deutschland und Japan seit 1945, eds. Arnulf Baring and Masamori Sase, 193–227. Stuttgart/Zürich: Belser. Hata, Ikuhiko. 2001. The Occupation of Japan, 1945–1952. In MacArthur and the American Century: A Reader, ed. William M. Leary, 315–333. Lincoln/London: University of Nebraska Press. Hong, Liu and Michael Szonyi. 2010. Introduction: New Approaches to the Study of the Cold War. In The Cold War in Asia: The Battle for Hearts

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and Minds, eds. Liu Hong, Michael Szonyi, and Zheng Yangwen, 1–11. Leiden/Boston: Brill. Jacob, Frank. 2018. Japanese War Crimes during World War II: Atrocity and the Psychology of Collective Violence. Santa Barbara, CA: Praeger. Jacob, Frank, ed. 2015. Peripheries of the Cold War. Würzburg: Königshausen & Neumann. Jacob, Frank and Stefan Karner, eds. 2020. War and Veterans: Treatment and Reintegration of Soldiers in Post-War Societies. Paderborn: Brill/Schöningh. Kurihara, Toshio. 2010. Shiberia yokury¯ u: mikan no higeki. Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten. Masuda, Hiroshi. 2012. MacArthur in Asia: The General and His Staff in the Philippines, Japan, and Korea. Ithaca/London: Cornell University Press. Matveevich, Maksim et al., eds. 2000. Voennoplennye v SSSR 1939–1956: Dokumenty i materialy. Moscow: Logos. Neumann, William L. 1963. America Encounters Japan: From Perry to MacArthur. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press. Textor, Robert B. 2001. Success in Japan—Despite Some Human Foibles and Cultural Problems. In MacArthur and the American Century: A Reader, ed. William M. Leary, 257–286. Lincoln/London: University of Nebraska Press. Wallerstein, Immanuel. 2010. What Cold War in Asia? An Interpretative Essay. In The Cold War in Asia: The Battle for Hearts and Minds, ed. Liu Hong, Michael Szonyi, and Zheng Yangwen, 15–24. Leiden/Boston: Brill. Ward, Robert E. 1987. Presurrender Planning: The Treatment of the Emperor and Constitutional Changes. In Democratizing Japan: The Allied Occupation, eds. Robert E. Ward and Sakamoto Yoshikazu, 1–41. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. Williams, Justin, Sr. 1979. Japan’s Political Revolution Under MacArthur. Athens: University of Georgia Press. Ziemann, Benjamin. 2007. Situating Peace Movements in the Political Culture of the Cold War. In Peace Movements in Western Europe, Japan and the USA during the Cold War, ed. Benjamin Ziemann, 11–38. Essen: Klartext. Zöllner, Reinhard. 2006. Geschichte Japans: Von 1800 bis zur Gegenwart. Paderborn et. al.

CHAPTER 7

The ICRC and Communist Captives During Vietnam’s American War Marcel Berni

Until recently, the fate of communist captives during the Vietnam War (1965–1975) has lacked a comparative historical study.1 In contrast to the suffering of American prisoners, little is known about the treatment of their companions in misfortune south of the bamboo curtain.2 This lack of research is somewhat surprising, given the important role that communist captives played in the longest military conflict of the twentieth century. Whereas neutral Western observers refer to the war in Vietnam as the “Second Indochina War,” this asymmetric conflict without 1 See my study in German: Marcel Berni, Außer Gefecht: Leben, Leiden und Sterben “kommunistischer” Gefangener in Vietnams amerikanischem Krieg (Hamburg: Hamburger Edition, 2020). 2 For American prisoners of war in North Vietnam, see Stuart I. Rochester and Frederick T. Kiley, Honor Bound: American Prisoners of War in Southeast Asia, 1961–1973 (Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 1999); Vernon E. Davis and Office of the Secretary of Defense, The Long Road Home: U.S. Prisoner of War Policy and Planning in Southeast Asia (Washington D.C.: Historical Office, Office of the Secretary of Defense, 1975).

M. Berni (B) Swiss Military Academy, ETH Zurich, Birmensdorf, Switzerland e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 M. Berni and T. Cubito (eds.), Captivity in War during the Twentieth Century, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-65095-7_7

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traditional front lines is remembered in Southeast Asia as the “American War.” Similar ambiguities about terminology and nomenclature are also mirrored in the prisoner of war issue. In fact, primary sources and secondary literature are scattered with a variety of terms making reference to the enemy prisoners captured by the US-led allied forces. During the hostilities in Southeast Asia, terms such as “captives,” “prisoners (of war),” “detainees” or “suspects” were colloquially used by soldiers, intelligence personnel and guards. Although, in theory, the US military defined these terms and broke them down into subgroups, in practice these categories rather quickly became an externally applied shorthand for captives in South Vietnam, having little to do with either captives’ true motives or their self-image. In fact, few of these—for the lack of a better term—communist captives were diehard communist prisoners of war. Hence, the South Vietnamese authorities classified most captives as “civil defendants” who were not granted the rights and privileges of Article IV of the Third Geneva Convention (GC III), sometimes even when they were captured by American or other allied Free World Military Assistance Armed Forces.3 These civilian detainees were characterised as “civilian Persons who are suspected as spies, saboteurs, terrorists, or criminals and therefore are not entitled to treatment as prisoners of war under article 4 of GPW [Geneva Convention Relative to the Treatment of Prisoners of War].”4 Since fighters belonging to the Vietcong who mostly fought in an irregular fashion—but also, in part, the more regular North Vietnamese soldiers—did not display the characteristics introduced in Article IV such as wearing a distinguished insignia, following the laws and customs of war or belonging to a state recognised by their captors, legal arguments were put forward holding that they were not protected by Article IV. According to these claims, “civil defendants” only had to be

3 The Free World Military Assistance Armed Forces supported the U.S. and South Vietnam in their fight against communist forces. Its main contributors were South Korea, Thailand, Australia, the Philippines and New Zealand. 4 National Archives and Records Administration (NARA), RG 472, Records of the U.S. Forces in Southeast Asia, 1950–1975, MACV Adjutant General Admin. Services Division, Reference Library, Issuances 1962–1973, Box 23, Folder: MACV AG, Directive 190– 193 w/change, May 24, 1966, Headquarters MACV (ed.), Directive Number 190–193: Evacuation of Prisoners of War (PWs), May, 24, 1966, 2.

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treated “humanely” according to Article III of GC III.5 Hence, captives were increasingly labelled as “civil defendants,” especially when they were civilian detainees who had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Thus, the classification of “civil defendant” had one advantage for the governing authorities: according to the contemporary understanding of the jus in bello, “civil defendants” were only granted a fraction of the rights conferred on prisoners of war, as codified by the international community in GC III. In the South Vietnamese police state, almost every civilian could be arrested at any time and taken into custody on vague charges. Once it became evident that the demarcations between different categories of prisoners were often arbitrary, the United States began to vote in favour of granting the rights of GC III to all captives, a position characterised as “generous in the extreme” by representatives of the ICRC.6 However, this policy was hard to follow. The South Vietnamese government in particular made little effort to comply with GC III and was keen on classifying captives as civilian prisoners and thus denying them the privileges of the all-important status of prisoner of war. This problem became increasingly urgent, since Americans routinely transferred their captives to the South Vietnamese authorities according to Article XII of the GC III. When it comes to determining the number of individual prisoners, only approximations are possible. It took until August 1965 for the South Vietnamese government to recognise the existence of an armed conflict, thereby officially accepting the applicability of the Geneva Conventions. Saigon had characterised the raging civil strife pre-1965 as a rebellion, thus declining prisoner of war status to its enemy captives. As American involvement began in earnest with the landing of the first Marines near Da Nang in March 1965, neither American nor South Vietnamese authorities were initially interested in keeping accurate records on captives. Archival sources reveal that both governments neglected the registration and cataloguing of captives in South Vietnamese hands until at least September

5 “Convention (III) relative to the Treatment of Prisoners of War, Geneva, 12 August 1949,” International Committee of the Red Cross, accessed February 3, 2020, https:// ihl-databases.icrc.org/applic/ihl/ihl.nsf/ART/375-590006?OpenDocument. 6 R.W. Apple, “U.S. Alters Policy to Safeguard Enemy Captives,” New York Times , July 1, 1966, 6.

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1966.7 In fact, even Amnesty International commented on the problem of statistics and accountability as the war went on, opining, “cynics would say … that the business of numbers is a meaningless game, especially in the context of Vietnam, where statistics have been so mercilessly manipulated.”8 Nevertheless, it seems necessary to outline some approximate numbers. According to official figures, between 35,000 and 40,000 prisoners of war were in South Vietnamese hands on the eve of the American withdrawal in 1973. However, the outlook with regards to the figures of other prisoner categories is vaguer. For the year 1973, it seems reasonable to speak of 150,000–200,000 additional “civil defendants” held in South Vietnamese national, district and province prisons as well as in jails and interrogation centres.9 In practice, these categories were often arbitrary and the differentiation was largely a bureaucratic decision. This chapter illustrates the interaction of transnational actors such as Amnesty International and the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) with regard to all these captives.10

The ICRC as a “Neutral Intermediary”: Mandate and Mission Although international oversight was weak in South Vietnam, two transnational actors became important in overseeing and caring for communist captives: the non-governmental organisation Amnesty International, which was mainly based in London and committed to improving human rights, as well as the more established and internationally accepted ICRC. The Swiss-based Committee had been involved in a minor way

7 “RVNAF has initiated [a] project for a one-time initial accounting of all captives in GVN custody throughout country.” NARA, RG 472, Records of the United States Forces in Southeast Asia, Headquarters Military Assistance Command Vietnam (MACV), Secretary of the Joint Staff (MACJ03), Military History Branch, Intelligence Collection Files, POW/Enemy Messages, Box 1, Folder: POW/Enemy Messages 1966, COMUSMACV to CINCPAC, 09.1966, 2. 8 Amnesty International, Political Prisoners in South Vietnam (London: Amnesty International, 1973), 8. 9 For a discussion on these figures, see Berni, Außer Gefecht, 50–53. 10 The chapter by Rowena Ward in this collection also focuses on the role of the ICRC,

albeit in the Second World War.

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during the First Indochina War, which saw the defeat of French colonial forces in 1954. When the United States replaced France in their efforts to create a non-communist regime south of the seventeenth parallel, the ICRC remained involved by establishing a mission in Saigon in 1965.11 Additionally, its local Red Cross society in South Vietnam gained in importance during the war. Like other Red Cross Societies, it was part of the League of Red Cross Societies, which were responsible for “the development of international humanitarian programs for the improvement of health, the prevention of disease, and the mitigation of suffering.”12 Generally, Red Cross Societies in the US, South and North Vietnam received and collected money and supplies to help refugees and war victims on both sides of the conflict. Across the United States, for instance, American schoolchildren prepared Red Cross Friendship Boxes and Kits for the children in war-torn South Vietnam. However, the American Red Cross refrained from sending funds or supplies to North Vietnam or members of the political arm of the communist insurgency in South East Asia, the National Liberation Front (NLF).13 The NLF never had a centralised government nor a recognised Red Cross society.14 Similar to the case of the First Indochina War, a lack of coordination between the American and South Vietnamese Red Cross and its mother organisation in Geneva persisted during the conflict, especially with regards to humanitarian relief efforts.15 Already in the summer of 1965, the ICRC concluded that the hostilities “both North and South of the 17th parallel … have assumed such proportions … that there can be no doubt that they constitute an armed conflict to which the regulations of humanitarian law as a whole should

11 Archives du Comité international de la Croix-Rouge (ACICR), B AG 200 223-021, Folder: Situation politique interne, aggravation du conflit, réfugiés, personnes déplacées, Activités du CICR en Indochine, November 2, 1972, 1. 12 NARA, RG ANRC, Records of the American National Red Cross, Box 37, Records Relating to the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC); 1900–2005, Folder: ARC: International Committee—Position Statement, The American National Red Cross, The International Committee of the Red Cross, Position Statement, September 1965, 5. 13 Ibid. 14 Ibid., 4. 15 David P. Forsythe, The Humanitarians: The International Committee of the Red Cross

(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), 75–76.

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be applied.”16 In the same letter by the ICRC sent to the United States, North and South Vietnam, and the NLF, the Committee reminded the parties at war of the following: All Parties to the conflict, the Republic of Viet Nam, the Democratic Republic of Viet Nam and the United States of America, are bound by the four Geneva Conventions of August 12, 1949, for the protection of the victims of war, having ratified them and having adhered thereto. The National Liberation Front too is bound by the undertakings signed by Viet Nam … It is incumbent on them to implement the provisions thereof and to permit the ICRC to carry out its mission as a neutral intermediary, as laid down in these Conventions. In particular the life of any combatant taken prisoner, wearing uniform or bearing an emblem clearly indicating his membership of the armed forces, shall be spared, he shall be treated humanely as a prisoner of war, lists of combatants taken prisoner shall be communicated without delay to the International Committee of the Red Cross (Central Tracing Agency), and the delegates of the ICRC shall be authorized to visit prison camps.17

On August 10, 1965, Secretary of State Dean Rusk replied to the ICRC that the US would adhere to all the Geneva Conventions in Vietnam and expected the same from the other warring parties.18 None other than the Commanding General of the Military Assistance Command, Vietnam (MACV) William C. Westmoreland, informed all his major commanders that it would be “vital” that “prisoners of war and combat captives are properly processed and handled in accordance with International Law.”19 However, it became clear to contemporaries that the proper treatment of prisoners of war was anything but guaranteed. As veteran journalist R. W. Apple put it in the New York Times , “the

16 Quoted in ICRC, “Respect for the Rules of Humanity in Viet Nam,” International Review of the Red Cross, August 1965, 417. 17 Ibid., 418. 18 ICRC, “Response to the ICRC’s Appeal to Have the Rules of Humanity Respected

in Viet Nam,” International Review of the Red Cross, September 1965, 477–478; Robert B. Semple, Jr., “U.S. Bids All in Vietnam Obey Geneva War Code,” New York Times , August 13, 1965, 1, 3. 19 William C. Westmoreland, quoted in George S. Prugh, Law at War: Vietnam, 1964– 1973 (Washington D.C.: Dept. of the Army, 1975), 75.

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entire question of handling prisoners of war has been one of the knottiest encounter[s] by the United States in this peculiar conflict.”20 While Rusk’s letter represented the official American standpoint, North and South Vietnam replied to the same missive in rather different ways. While the South vowed to be “fully prepared to respect the provisions of the Geneva Conventions and to contribute actively to the efforts of the International Committee of the Red Cross to ensure their application,”21 the North questioned the applicability of the laws of war to enemy prisoners. A heated letter by the acting head of the Cabinet, Bui Tan Linh, accused the “United States Government and its agents in Saigon” of “committing crimes in their war of aggression in Viet Nam, undermining peace, violating the laws and customs of war and perpetrating acts against humanity.”22 However, this was only the beginning of the North’s reasoning. The letter continued in its communist rhetoric: In order to compensate for its defeats in the undeclared war of aggression in South Viet Nam, the United States Government has, without any justification, given orders to its air and naval forces to make surprise attacks on the Democratic Republic of Viet Nam, in flagrant violation of the Geneva Agreements of 1954 on Viet Nam and of the rules of international law. It has employed napalm and phosphorous bombs, poisonous chemical products, and its aircraft and warships have indiscriminately bombed hospitals, schools, road transport stations, markets, villages, fishing vessels, churches, pagodas, etc. massacring large numbers of innocent civilians and violating the Geneva Conventions of August 12, 1949, for the protection, of the victims of war, as well as other rules of war.23

In particular, captured American soldiers were described as “pirates” and “major criminals caught in flagrante delicto and liable for judgement in accordance with the laws of the Democratic Republic of Viet Nam”— and thus were not to be treated as prisoners of war. Yet, the letter went 20 Apple, “U.S. Alters Policy,” 6. 21 ICRC, “Response to the ICRC’s Appeal to Have the Rules of Humanity Respected

in Viet Nam,” International Review of the Red Cross, September 1965, 478 [English translation]. 22 ICRC, “Response to the ICRC’s Appeal to Have the Rules of Humanity Respected in Viet Nam,” International Review of the Red Cross, October 1965, 527 [Unofficial retranslation]. 23 Ibid., 527–528.

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on to say that “captured [American] pilots” would be “well treated.”24 The NLF went even one step further than its patron in the North; by not signing the Geneva Conventions, the NLF applied its own rules in dealing with enemy prisoners, writing, “these conventions contain articles that do not correspond at all to our situation, nor to the organisation of the NLF’s armed forces, and that is why the NLF cannot apply this Convention mechanically.”25 During a meeting in January 1966 in Algiers, the NLF’s representative, Mr. Tham, claimed: “Asia does not believe that the ICRC or Switzerland is neutral.”26 Soon the ICRC lost systematic contact with the representatives of the front. By failing to convince the communist forces to abide by the principles of the Geneva Conventions, the ICRC’s only mandate was the inspection of the prisoner regime in the South. However, throughout the war, the Committee insisted that all belligerent forces had to follow the laws of war; for example, the Committee reminded other allied countries of the validity of the Geneva Conventions.27 These efforts, as well as the Committee’s fieldwork, was funded by Red Cross societies around the globe, government contributions and a yearly charity campaign in Switzerland.28

International Oversight on the Ground Towards the end of 1967, South Vietnamese authorities had established six prisoner of war camps. Funded by American money, these strongly guarded prisons were officially labelled as “ARVN [Army of the 24 Ibid., 528. 25 ACICR, B AG 202 223-005, Folder: Communications du 11 et 14 juin 1965 au

gouvernement américain, au gouvernement de la République du Viêtnam, au gouvernement de la République démocratique du Viêtnam et au Front national de libération du Sud-Viêtnam, rappel le 3 juillet 1965, rappel le 3 juin 1969 au gouvernement de la République démocratique du Viêtnam, Communications du 11 et 14 Juin 1965, 6. 26 Mr. Tham, quoted in Jean Luc Blondel, From Saigon to Ho Chi Minh City: The ICRC’s Work and Transformation from 1966 to 1975 (Geneva: International Committee of the Red Cross, 2016), 38. 27 Keith D. Suter, “The Work of the ICRC in Vietnam: An Evaluation,” Instant Research on Peace and Violence 4, no. 3 (1974): 123. 28 NARA; RG ANRC, Records of the American National Red Cross, Box 37, Records Relating to the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC); 1900–2005, Folder: ARC: International Committee—Position Statement, The American National Red Cross, The International Committee of the Red Cross, Position Statement, September 1965, 3.

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Republic of Vietnam] Corps Combat Captive Camps” and were exclusively reserved for captives classified as prisoners of war.29 Each of the four military administration regions known as “corps tactical zones” had at least one camp. In addition, a small number of prisoners of war were interned on Con Son Island, which was, in fact, a national prison for civilians.30 Before a prisoner of war was transferred to one of the prisoner of war camps, he was interrogated in one of 13 “Combined Division Interrogation Centres,” four “Combined Corps Interrogation Centres” or the “Combined Military Intelligence Centre” (CMIC) in Saigon. These examinations were primarily carried out by South Vietnamese personnel, although American military or intelligence staff were sometimes present. However, it should be noted that the majority of captives were civilians—or were at least classified as “civil defendants.” In fact, according to press accounts from 1967, only four per cent of all captives were classified as prisoners of war after being interrogated.31 In particular, prisoners in South Vietnamese hands were arbitrarily categorised as the authorities saw fit. One American contemporary guard recalled that “classification of prisoners was absolutely lacking. In fact, was non-existent throughout the entire [South Vietnamese penal] system.”32 For captives classified as civilian prisoners, Saigon had established four national prisons, 44 provincial prisons, 76 district prisons and an unknown number of smaller police and secret prisons.33 A Vietnamese captive 29 NARA, RG 472, Records of the U.S. Forces in Southeast Asia, 1950–1975, MACV Adjutant General Admin. Services Division, Reference Library, Issuances 1962–1973, Box 23, Folder: MACV AG, Directive 190–3 w/change, 24 May 1966, Headquarters MACV, Directive Number 190–3: Evacuation of Prisoners of War (PWs), 05.24.1966, 1. 30 The name most probably derives from Chinese and is sometimes also referred to as “Con Non,” “Puolo Condore,” “Poulo Condore,” “Polo Condor” or “Con Lon Dao.” For a propagandistic account of the islands’ history, see Nhieu Tac Gia (“various authors”), Tu chinh tri cau luu Con Dao (1957 –1975): Tu thuc tien nhin lai (“Longdetained Political Prisoners at Con Dao Prison (1957–1975): Looking Back from the Reality”) (Hanoi: Nha xuaat baan Quaan doi nhan dan, 2016). 31 Clergy and Laymen Concerned About Vietnam, In the Name of America: The Conduct of the War in Vietnam by the Armed Forces of the United States as Shown by Published Reports (Annandale: The Turnpike Press, 1968), 89. 32 D.E. Bordenkircher and S.A. Bordenkircher, Tiger Cage: An Untold Story (Cameron: Abbey, 1998), 61. 33 The exact number of prisons depends on the time period and the source. See Committee to Reform the Prison System of South Vietnam (ed.), After the Signing of the Paris Agreements: Documents on South Vietnam’s Political Prisoners (Cambridge:

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described this confusing archipelago of prisons and jails in the following chilling words: With a few facts […], it is impossible to give a complete description of a prison system, particularly that of the Saigon government. To know it you must experience it for yourself, you must see with your own eyes the interrogations and the torture sessions, the agonizing sight of old people, women and children, caged up, piteous, naked.34

However, in contrast to North Vietnam, prison visits by humanitarian organisations were—at least technically—possible in South Vietnam. Permission for such visits was exclusively given to the ICRC by the U.S. and South Vietnamese authorities. Its representatives visited not only prisoner of war camps but also interrogation centres and occasionally civilian prisons. In total, the ICRC visited over 100 detention centres across South Vietnam, most of which received a satisfactory assessment.35 Additionally, the ICRC was allowed to visit American collecting points where captives were interned before being flown to the rear areas. However, during such visits, ICRC representatives were only allowed to inspect detention centres or parts of them that had been approved by the camps’ management. According to its mission, the Committee tried to draw attention preventively to the protection of prisoners under GC III and to provide direct assistance to victims, but it was severally limited

Vietnam Resource Center, 1973), 31–32; House of Representatives, Committee on Asian and Pacific Affairs of the Committee on Foreign Affairs (ed.), The Treatment of Political Prisoners in South Vietnam (Washington: US Government Printing Office, 1978), 19; Bordenkircher and Bordenkircher, Tiger Cage, 63–66; Alexander Casella, “The Politics of Prisoners of War,” New York Times Magazine, May 5, 1972, 9–15; Group of French University Professors (ed.), The Forgotten Prisoners of Nguyen Van Thieu (Paris: s. n., 1973), 5 and Republic of Vietnam National Commission for Information (ed.), The Civilian Prisoner Question in South Viet Nam (Washington: Viet-Nam Information Office, 1973), 3. 34 Ngo Cong Duc, quoted in Committee to Reform the Prison System of South Vietnam, After the Signing of the Paris Agreements, 26. 35 Joseph Novitski and Thomas W. Lippman, “Separating Friends From Foes,” The Washington Post , 23 June 1975, quoted in NARA, RG ANRC, Records of the American National Red Cross, Box 37, Records Relating to the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC); 1900–2005, Folder: ICRC—Mention in Press—Con Son/Tiger Cage Incident—July/Sept. 1970.

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by manpower and funding issues. In July 1965 opened, the ICRC delegation in South Vietnam was first headed by André Tschiffeli and consisted of initially two, later four delegates, who usually stayed “for less than two months on average.”36 In 1972, the ICRC only had five Swiss delegates and an unknown number of additional Vietnamese employees who formed its delegation in Saigon. In addition, there were subsidiaries of the South Vietnamese and American Red Cross, which provided humanitarian services, but rarely coordinated their operations with the parent organisation in Geneva.37 The South Vietnamese arm, for example, was divided into 43 provincial committees and was particularly active in refugee aid.38 As for the main ICRC mandate of visiting South Vietnamese prisoner of war camps, the exact number of visits varies according to the sources consulted. According to South Vietnamese data, representatives of the ICRC made 229 visits to prisoner of war camps and “re-education centres” until 1972.39 The ICRC claims to have “visited 490 sites holding 391,000 prisoners of war and 94,000 civilian detainees.”40 Be that as it may, each prisoner of war camp was on average visited three to four times a year by an ICRC delegation consisting of a delegate, a doctor and a translator.41 The exact procedure for each visit was regulated in the MACV Directive “190–6,” as well as in ICRC instructions.42 Often, the delegates were not allowed to question the prisoners of war about the conditions behind bars.43 Even more problematic was the state of prisoners in provincial interrogation centres, which were neither visited 36 Blondel, From Saigon to Ho Chi Minh City, 38. 37 Forsythe, The Humanitarians, 75. 38 ACICR, B AG 200 223-021, Folder: Situation politique interne, aggravation du conflit, réfugiés, personnes déplacées, Ligues des Sociétés de la Croix-Rouge: République de Vietnâm, November 1, 1972, 1–2; Suter, “The Work,” 126–129. 39 Republic of Vietnam National Commission for Information, The Civilian Prisoner Question in South Viet Nam, 22. 40 Blondel, From Saigon to Ho Chi Minh City, 40. 41 Casella, “The Politics of Prisoners of War,” 11. 42 See NARA, RG 472, Records of the U.S. Forces in Southeast Asia, 1950– 1975, MACV Adjutant General Admin. Services Division, Reference Library, Issuances 1962–1973, Box 23, Folder: MACV AG, Directive 190–196, 8 Jan 1969, Headquarters MACV (ed.), Directive Number 190–196: Military Police, ICRC Inspections of Detainee/Prisoner of War Facilities, January 8, 1969; Prugh, Law at War, 68–69, 132–135. 43 Suter, “The Work,” 129.

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nor internally controlled by the ICRC but only by South Vietnamese police forces and American civilians belonging to the “Civil Operations and Revolutionary Development Support” programme.44 In other civilian prisons and interrogation centres, ICRC requests for visits were rejected repeatedly or were subject to constraints by the South Vietnamese Ministry of Interior. These visits “led the Committee to decide not to take any further steps to visit Vietnamese prisons while the restrictions were in force.”45 Early in 1972, the ICRC suspended all visits to civilian detainee centres.46 Thus, it is unsurprising that during the Paris peace talks, US diplomat David K. E. Bruce raised the idea that the ICRC should be allowed to visit “all prisoner facilities” in the South as well as in the North as a means to pressure North Vietnam and envoys of the NLF.47 Bruce’s demand was rejected, leading to the resignation of an ICRC staff member in frustration, saying “our visits are most important where people do not want to let us into.”48 Whereas “civil defendants” were interrogated in provincial interrogation centres by South Vietnamese police forces and CIA personnel, high ranking prisoners of war were transferred to the CMIC that formed part of the Combined Intelligence Centre, which was responsible for interagency intelligence. Like the combined corps interrogation centres, the CMIC consisted of a South Vietnamese and an American part and was opened on January 31, 1967. Less “promising” prisoners of war were interrogated directly in the field by military intelligence detachments or in

44 Central Intelligence Agency, Freedom of Information Act Electronic Reading Room, General CIA Records, CREST Collection, Provincial Interrogation Centers, w. l., w. d., 1, https://www.cia.gov/library/readingroom/document/cia-rdp80r01720r001 100060027-1. Accessed February 3, 2020, 2. 45 ACICR, B AG 200 223-021, Folder: Situation politique interne, aggravation du conflit, réfugiés, personnes déplacées, w. l., Activités du CICR en Indochine, November 2, 1972, 1. See also Prugh, Law at War, 68. 46 Blondel, From Saigon to Ho Chi Minh City, 40. 47 An American spokesman to David K. E. Bruce, quoted in s. n., “U.S. Seeks Red

Cross POW Visits,” The Washington Post , December 4, 1970, A15. 48 An unidentified ICRC employee, quoted in Holmes Brown and Don Luce, Die politischen Gefangenen Saigons: Eine Dokumentation von Don Luce und Holmes Brown (München: C. Hanser, 1973), 42.

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interrogation centres in the rear. The CMIC in Saigon therefore only had room for 63 inmates, who were questioned in 28 interrogation rooms.49 Prisoners in the CMIC were interrogated at least twice—once by a South Vietnamese team and once by an American interrogation team. These interrogation teams conducted 20,217 interrogations from January 1967 to April 1972. Little is known about how prisoners of war were treated and how widespread torture was. Although after the war South Vietnamese generals firmly denied the use of systematic torture, there are indications that coercive measures were regularly used in the CMIC during the early years of the war. From 1971 onward, ICRC visits to the CMIC and other South Vietnamese interrogation centres were rarely allowed by the South Vietnamese authorities.50 The ICRC was not granted any entry into the National Interrogation Centre where “promising” civilian prisoners were questioned. Since visits had to be announced in any case, the ICRC could only record what its representatives actually saw. Already early on in the war, numerous reports of torture and abuse of prisoners had surfaced. In 1966, the ICRC addressed the South Vietnamese government on several occasions, demanding it to “stop these practices” given the publication of numerous photographs documenting the ill-treatment of prisoners in South Vietnam.51 When the Committee later brought the widespread torture of prisoners to the international stage once more, the powerlessness of the ICRC had become apparent. A representative of the Committee bemoaned the helplessness of the ICRC, saying “this is a sensitive issue, as Committee delegates can only report what they see and

49 NARA, RG 472, Records of the United States Forces in Southeast Asia, Headquarters Military Assistance Command Vietnam (MACV), Office of the Assistant Chief of Staff for Intelligence (MACJ2), Combat Intelligence Directorate (J21), Exploitation Division (J213), CMIC General Records, Box 1, Folder: 228–08, History of CMIC, History of CMIC, 1–2. 50 Casella, “The Politics of Prisoners of War,” 12; Novitski and Lippman, “Viet Prison Brutality Documented,” The Washington Post , June 22, 1975, A16. 51 ACICR, B AG 263 223-019.06, Folder: 2 bulletins d’information du CICR concernant l’Asie, Comité international de la Croix-Rouge, Das Internationale Komitee vom Roten Kreuz und der Vietnamkonflikt, August 30, 1966, 7.

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hear.”52 In other words, what was hidden from the Committee could not be described in the inspection reports. In this regard, there soon emerged a somewhat unholy alliance between American decision-makers and their South Vietnamese counterparts. When, for example, representatives of the ICRC visited the prisoner of war camp on the island of Phu Quoc, Americans helped their South Vietnamese allies by pointing to “riots associated with ICRC visits, misunderstandings with ICRC delegates, and the good will of South Vietnam to apply the Third Geneva Convention as possible under Southeast Asian conditions.”53 Even more sobering is the fact that the ICRC was exploited in Vietnam to lend credibility to the allied war efforts. Take, for instance, an impressive internal memorandum to Stephen Winship of the US Embassy Political Military Section dated October 4, 1971. This memo, which was only released after a freedom of information request by the author, bluntly represents the ICRC as a helpful instrument to help ensure better treatment of American prisoners in the North: In planning any repatriation effort, however, it must be recalled that the ICRC is involved at our initiative for political reasons. It can be argued with some validity that there is no need for ICRC to be involved in treatment of any persons detained in South Viet-Nam since they are all criminals under GVN law and should be treated accordingly. Such an argument, however, is obviously inconsistent with our desire to secure humane treatment for our personnel detained by the enemy. We have sought involvement of the ICRC as an impartial body to give credence to our assertions—not believed otherwise—that we are treating prisoners humanely and to support our larger contention that our actions are consistent with international law relating to the conduct of the war … ICRC involvement means we must accept some of the ICRC’s terms for involvement. Alternatives would be withdrawal of ICRC presence because we

52 Ibid., B AG 060/diff.209, Folder: Diffusion des Conventions de Genève en République démocratique du Viêtnam, Conversation entre M. Dang Tran Loi, Secrétaire général de la CR de la République du Vietnam et MM. J. P. Maunoir, J. Ruf, October 22, 1969, 2. 53 NARA, RG 389, Records of the Provost Marshal General, POW/Civilian Internee

Information Center, Secret Records, 101–11 Office Classified Documents Receipt Files, 1975 to 511-02 SHAPE Conf Handling of POW & Captured, 1972, Box 2, Folder: Secret, 511-02, Subj: GVN Plans for Reclassification & Release of Enemy POWs (1971), Memorandum for the Record, Subject: GVN Plans for Reclassification and Release of Enemy Prisoners of War, September 27, 1971, 3.

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failed to meet some ICRC conditions or complete ICRC acquiescence in our terms.54

Thus, at least bureaucratically the ICRC’s involvement in South East Asia influenced American decision-makers—though not always for the better.

Conclusion: A Paper Tiger or the “Conscience of the World”? Since the ICRC “did not enter the public arena to make specific criticisms” and did not, therefore, publish reports of camp visits, the frustration in the Committee was soon palpable.55 The disappointment of being tied up for the war aims of one side, and at the same time being able to do little for the victims, was felt by many employees of the ICRC. Prison reports prepared at great personal risk went only to the ICRC, to Saigon and to Washington. Only the respective addressees were then allowed to make internal reports public, as happened when ICRC visit reports released towards the end of the war were evaluated by journalists at the Washington Post and prisoners’ grievances were made public.56 Before these revelations, none other than the president of the ICRC, Marcel Naville, had already stepped forward to criticise Saigon in unusually sharp language, saying “it is deeply regrettable that South Vietnam grants only a small portion of its detainees the status of prisoner of war and only authorizes few visits by delegates of the International Red Cross.”57 Even before Naville’s public criticism, it had become clear to the ICRC that it had seen only one side of the coin when it came to the dealing 54 Ibid., Folder: Secret, 511–02, Vietnam, Subj: GVN Plans for Reclassification & Release of Enemy POWs (1971), John Reid, Memorandum to: Stephen Winship, Subject: Comments on CINCPAC 260314Z SEP 71, 1. 55 Suter, “The Work,” 125. 56 See ACICR, B AG, 063-340.02, Folder: Affaire ‘Washington Post’ au Vietnâm,

June 1, 1975—August 10, 1975 and the article from Novitski and Lippman, “Viet Prison Brutality Documented.” 57 Marcel Naville, quoted in “Red Cross Chief Blasts Both Vietnams on POW,” The Wahington Post, September 1, 1970, quoted in NARA, RG ANRC, Records of the American National Red Cross, Box 37, Records Relating to the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC); 1900–2005, Folder: ICRC—Mention in Press—Con Son/Tiger Cage Incident—July/September 1970.

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with communist captives. The other side was mostly hidden from the delegates. It is symptomatic that the cruel treatment of prisoners held in “tiger cages” on the island of Con Son was discovered not by the ICRC, but by American civilians. On Con Son, ICRC representatives had to register every visit in advance and were only granted access to the 25 prisoners of war in the camp, while the condition of some 9,000 other “civil defendants” was hidden from the delegates by the South Vietnamese camp commander. Even more worrying is the fact that ICRC representatives discovered, reported and demanded the removal of similar cages in the prisoner of war camps in Pleiku, Qui Nhon and Phu Quoc in the late 1960s. This demand was only granted at the end of 1970 in Pleiku. In Phu Quoc, it took until February 1972.58 Although the ICRC proudly claimed to be the “conscience of the world,” referring to its strict neutrality and discretion, it made only limited progress in humanising the war for captives in Southeast Asia.59 However, this verdict does not hold true for the work of the relief aid administrated by the Red Cross Societies and the Indochina Operational Group that coordinated international aid efforts across the region.60 The treatment of captives in the field demands further investigation. During military operations, the ICRC was rarely present. Therefore, the interrogating soldiers had the resources, time and opportunity to exploit captives at will. According to informal American and South Vietnamese practices, torture was only forbidden if the ICRC or other humanitarian organisations were present. Nathan Hale’s statements in this regard are representative of many others. Hale, a GI of the notorious 23rd Infantry Division, claimed that “the only thing that I was told was that I shouldn’t beat prisoners, or elicit information the way we normally did in front

58 Novitski and Lippman, “Viet Prison Brutality Documented.” 59 Quoted in NARA; RG ANRC, Records of the American National Red Cross, Box 37,

Records Relating to the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC); 1900–2005, Folder: ARC: International Committee—Position Statement, The American National Red Cross, The International Committee of the Red Cross, Position Statement, September 1965, 1. 60 Blondel, From Saigon to Ho Chi Minh City, 40–41.

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of visiting people, that is visiting officers; perhaps the Red Cross, or noncombatants.”61 The sobering conclusion remains that in South Vietnam the ICRC’s hands were tied. Accordingly, a scholar suggested at the end of the war that the South and its allies did not respect GC III “as a sincere guide in combat but merely as a propaganda weapon to somehow show that they were better than the other side for accepting Conventions.”62 Unsurprisingly, the ICRC was not even alluded to in the Paris Peace Accords that ended the American War in Southeast Asia in January 1973. Official ICRC histories of the period thus refer to the Vietnam War as an “utter failure” in reference to the ICRC’s “efforts to promote respect for international humanitarian law.”63 During the war, the Committee could recommend changes, accuse grievances and criticise the status quo. However, it could never exert any practical influence. Whether in military or civil prisons, the ICRC was always dependent on the benevolence of Saigon and Washington and refrained from criticising the treatment of captives or making public statements.64 An ICRC representative complained about this to a Washington Post journalist in 1972, saying, “we have no means of pressure except the moral ones.”65

61 Nathan Hale, quoted in The Citizens Commission of Inquiry (ed.), The Dellums Committee Hearings on War Crimes in Vietnam: An Inquiry Into Command Responsibility in Southeast Asia (New York: Vintage Books, 1972), 86. 62 Suter, “The Work,” 125. 63 Blondel, From Saigon to Ho Chi Minh City, 42. See also Françoise Perret and

François Bugnion, De Budapest à Saigon: Histoire du Comité de la Croix Rouge, 1956– 1965 (Geneva: ICRC and Georg, 2009), 400–402. 64 See Casella, “The Politics of Prisoners of War;” Novitski and Lippman, “Viet Prison Brutality Documented;” Amnesty International, Political Prisoners in South Vietnam; Prugh, Law at War, 78; Trung tam Luu tru Quoc gia II, Ho so so 965, Ve tinh trang ‘Nguy hai’ tai trai hi binh Con Son, Phui Quoo nam 1970, Embassy of the Republic of Vietnam [in Australia], Press Release, July 9, 1970, 2. 65 Louis Jaquinet, quoted in Joseph Novitski, “Phuquoc Major Red Cross Concern,” The Washington Post , June 23, 1975, quoted in NARA, RG ANRC, Records of the American National Red Cross, Box 37, Records Relating to the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC); 1900–2005, Folder: ICRC—Mention in Press—Con Son/Tiger Cage Incident—July/September 1970.

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References Archival Sources Archives du Comité international de la Croix-Rouge, Geneva, Switzerland (ACICR) AG, Archives générales, 1966–1975 Central Intelligence Agency, Electronic Reading Room, Langley VA, USA General CIA Records, CREST Collection, Provincial Interrogation Centers, https://www.cia.gov/library/readingroom/document/cia-rdp80r01720r 001100060027-1 (accessed February 3, 2020) National Archives and Records Administration, College Park MD, USA (NARA) RG ANRC, Records of the American National Red Cross RG 389, Records of the Provost Marshal General, POW/Civilian Internee Information Center, Secret Records RG 472, Records of the U.S. Forces in Southeast Asia, 1950–1975, MACV Adjutant General Admin. Services Division, Reference Library RG 472, Records of the U.S. Forces in Southeast Asia, Headquarters Military Assistance Command Vietnam (MACV), Secretary of the Joint Staff (MACJ03), Military History Branch RG 472, Records of the United States Forces in Southeast Asia, Headquarters Military Assistance Command Vietnam (MACV), Office of the Assistant Chief of Staff for Intelligence (MACJ2), Combat Intelligence Directorate (J21), Exploitation Division (J213) Trung tam Luu tru Quoc gia II (Vietnamese National Archive Number 2), Ho Chi Minh City, Socialist Republic of Vietnam Ho so so 965

Literature Amnesty International. 1973. Political Prisoners in South Vietnam. London: Amnesty International. Apple, R.W. 1966. U.S. Alters Policy to Safeguard Enemy Captives. New York Times, July 1. Berni, Marcel. 2020. Außer Gefecht: Leben, Leiden und Sterben “kommunistischer” Gefangener in Vietnams amerikanischem Krieg. Hamburg: Hamburger Edition. Blondel, Jean Luc. 2016. From Saigon to Ho Chi Minh City: The ICRC ’s Work and Transformation from 1966 to 1975. Geneva: International Committee of the Red Cross. Bordenkircher, D.E., and S.A. Bordenkircher. 1998. Tiger Cage: An Untold Story. Cameron: Abbey.

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Brown, Holmes, and Luce, Don. 1973. Die politischen Gefangenen Saigons: Eine Dokumentation von Don Luce und Holmes Brown. München: C. Hanser. Casella, Alexander. 1972. The Politics of Prisoners of War. New York Times Magazine, May 5. Clergy and Laymen Concerned About Vietnam. 1968. In the Name of America: The Conduct of the War in Vietnam by the Armed Forces of the United States as Shown by Published Reports. Annandale: The Turnpike Press. Committee to Reform the Prison System of South Vietnam, ed. 1973. After the Signing of the Paris Agreements: Documents on South Vietnam’s Political Prisoners. Cambridge: Vietnam Resource Center. Davis, Vernon E., and Office of the Secretary of Defense. 1975. The Long Road Home: U.S. Prisoner of War Policy and Planning in Southeast Asia. Washington D.C.: Historical Office, Office of the Secretary of Defense. Forsythe, David P. 2005. The Humanitarians: The International Committee of the Red Cross. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Group of French University Professors, ed. 1973. The Forgotten Prisoners of Nguyen Van Thieu. Paris: s. n. House of Representatives, Committee on Asian and Pacific Affairs of the Committee on Foreign Affairs, ed. 1978. The Treatment of Political Prisoners in South Vietnam. Washington: US Government Printing Office. ICRC. 1949. Convention (III) relative to the Treatment of Prisoners of War, Geneva, 12 August 1949. https://ihl-databases.icrc.org/applic/ihl/ihl.nsf/ ART/375-590006?OpenDocument. Accessed February 3, 2020. ICRC. Respect for the Rules of Humanity in Viet Nam. International Review of the Red Cross (August 1965): 417. ICRC. Response to the ICRC’s Appeal to Have the Rules of Humanity Respected in Viet Nam. International Review of the Red Cross (September 1965): 477–478. ICRC. Response to the ICRC’s Appeal to Have the Rules of Humanity Respected in Viet Nam. International Review of the Red Cross (September 1965): 478 [English translation]. ICRC. Response to the ICRC’s Appeal to Have the Rules of Humanity Respected in Viet Nam. International Review of the Red Cross October 1965: 527 [Unofficial retranslation]. Nhieu Tac Gia (“various authors”). 2016. Tu chinh tri cau luu Con Dao (1957– 1975): Tu thuc tien nhin lai (“Long-detained Political Prisoners at Con Dao Prison (1957–1975): Looking Back from the Reality”). Hanoi: Nha xuaat baan Quaan doi nhan dan. Perret, Françoise, and François Bugnion. 2009. De Budapest à Saigon: Histoire du Comité de la Croix Rouge, 1956–1965. Geneva: ICRC and Georg. Prugh, George S. 1975. Law at War: Vietnam, 1964–1973. Washington D.C.: Department of the Army.

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Republic of Vietnam National Commission for Information, ed. 1973. The Civilian Prisoner Question in South Viet Nam. Washington: Viet-Nam Information Office. Rochester, Stuart I., and Frederick T. Kiley. 1999. Honor Bound: American Prisoners of War in Southeast Asia, 1961–1973. Annapolis: Naval Institute Press. Semple, Robert B., Jr. 1965. U.S. Bids All in Vietnam Obey Geneva War Code. New York Times, August 13. S. n. 1970. U.S. Seeks Red Cross POW Visits. Washington Post, December 4. Suter, Keith D. 1974. The Work of the ICRC in Vietnam: An Evaluation. Instant Research on Peace and Violence 4, 3 (1974): 121–132. The Citizens Commission of Inquiry, ed. 1972. The Dellums Committee Hearings on War Crimes in Vietnam: An Inquiry Into Command Responsibility in Southeast Asia. New York: Vintage Books.

CHAPTER 8

Biafra’s Captives: The “Oilmen Incident” and International Diplomacy in the Nigerian Civil War Oluchukwu Ignatus Onianwa

On October 1, 1960, Nigeria gained her independence from British colonial rule.1 By July 6, 1967, the country was engulfed in a civil war fought between the Federal Military Government of Nigeria, led by MajorGeneral Yakubu Gowon, and the secessionist Republic of Biafra, led by Lieutenant-Colonel Chukwuemeka Odumegwu Ojukwu.2 The conflict recorded many captives on various levels. Foreign nationals were not spared from being held as captives. For example, Sally Goatcher, a British nurse who worked for the Save the Children Fund in Biafra, was captured by Biafran soldiers and held for sixteen days.3 Similarly, a 25-year-old 1 Arthur Agwuncha Nwankwo and Samuel Udochukwu Ifejika, The Making of a Nation: Biafra (London: C. Hurst & Company, 1969), 3. 2 Godfrey B. Warren, “Petroleum and the Nigerian Civil War, 1967–1970,” The Fletcher Forum 3, no. 2 (2000): 66. 3 David Tattersall, “Biafra Captive Sally is Home,” Daily Mirror, June 18, 1969.

O. I. Onianwa (B) University of Ibadan, Ibadan, Nigeria © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 M. Berni and T. Cubito (eds.), Captivity in War during the Twentieth Century, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-65095-7_8

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Portuguese air force pilot on loan to Biafra, Gil Pinto De-Sousa, was captured and held as a prisoner in Lagos after a crash landing.4 However, there was one major incident that occurred during the conflict which shaped the entire issue of captivity. This was the taking hostage by Biafran military forces of fourteen Italian, three German and one Lebanese Eni oil staff working in the oilfields located in Midwestern Nigeria.5 The capture of the oilmen rapidly took an international dimension and caused public uproar in Western Europe. Virtually all European nations reacted to the event. Understandably, they were greatly concerned about the fate of the oilmen who had fallen into Biafra’s hands. At the peak of the episode, a negotiation process for their release, which involved the Vatican, the Italian and the Portuguese governments as well as the presidents of Gabon and Ivory Coast, was set into motion.6 The aim of this chapter is to explore the role of these transnational actors in negotiating the oilmen’s release. It examines the discussions of the issue at the Western European Union as well as the Portuguese and Italian roles. In the literature on the Nigerian Civil War, not much has been written on the subject of captivity or prisoners of war. Hardly any efforts have been made to look at the experiences of prisoners of war and how the issue was of relevance with regard to the international politics of the civil war. The Biafrans had captured the oilmen believing that it would further concretize their sovereignty as a nation. However, as will be demonstrated in this chapter, it had the opposite effect: Biafra’s

4 TNA (The National Archives of the UK), FCO 65/362, West African Department. Mercenaries in Biafra, Press Release on the Capture of a Portuguese Pilot from Lagos, Telegram no. 2361, 12th November 1969. Information on prisoners of war and other captives was highly classified during the conflict. Not even international journalists or military attachés of the British High Commission and of the United States Embassy in Lagos knew much about the actual number of people captured in the war. See: TNA, FCO 38/297, West and General Africa Department. Nigeria. Relief Operations and Financial Aid for Nigeria. Confidential: Minute on Red Cross Developments from British High Commissioner in Lagos, Sir David Hunt, to Commonwealth Office, telegram no. 38, 28 October 1967, 26 August 1967–1 May 1968. 5 A.H.M. Kirk-Greene, Crisis and Conflict in Nigeria: A Documentary Source Book, 1966–1969, vol. II (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1971), 116. 6 Gerhard Seibert, “São Tomé and the Biafran War, 1967–1970,” The International

Journal of African Historical Studies 51, no. 2 (2018): 263–292.

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international image was seriously tarnished in the eyes of the international community because of its behaviour.

The Capture of the Oilmen In 1969, the Biafrans were able to build up their air force with the aid of renowned Swedish pilots led by Count Carl Gustav von Rosen. This did not only change the military equation of the war but was the start of a new phase of systematic airstrikes and ground military activities by Biafran military forces.7 The main targets of the aerial bombings were the oilfields under federal control in the Midwestern Region. While these air attacks were very sporadic, they nevertheless caused a considerable amount of damage to public utilities of foreign interest in Nigeria, particularly oilfields and installations. They also physically endangered the employees of multinational oil companies working on these installations. Not just the air war but also the Biafran ground military activities in the area made things difficult and dangerous for foreign oil workers.8 Indeed, the air war emboldened the Biafran Army. Following a series of reconnaissance patrols in Midwestern Nigeria, Biafran military intelligence discovered that the oilfields in the area, known as Kwale, were being tapped by a large number of foreign expatriates who occasionally wore military uniforms. Nigerian soldiers were stationed in the oilfields, but not in great numbers.9 According to Chinua Achebe, “the information gathered by the BMI [Biafran military intelligence] was that foreign oilmen, particularly staff from the Italian government’s oil conglomerate Eni were aiding the Nigerian Army.”10 The foreign workers were allegedly providing the Nigerian Federal Forces sensitive military information on Biafran troop positions, strategic military manoeuvres and training. After receiving this information, the Biafran military command

7 Bridget Bloom, “Biafran Threat to Nigeria’s Oil,” Financial Times, May 31, 1969. See also: Onianwa Oluchuchukwu Ignatus, Oilfields and Airpower in African Conflict: The Case of Biafra (Washington, DC and London: Academica Press, 2019). 8 TNA, FCO 65/436, West African Department, Nigeria, Oil: General policy. Sir L. Glass to Foreign Office, June 19, 1969. 9 Alexander A. Madiebo, The Nigerian Revolution and the Biafran War (Enugu: Fourth Dimension Publishing Company, 1980), 328. 10 Chinua Achebe, There Was a Country: A Personal History of Biafra (London: Penguin Books, 2012), 218.

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decided to send soldiers on a special mission to invade Eni’s combine in Kwale, in the Niger River Delta’s oil reserve known as Okpai oilfield.11 The Commander of the Biafran Army, retired Major-General Alexander A. Madiebo, recalled in a personal account published after the war that the advance towards the oil fields was very swift and without much opposition. According to Madiebo, many of the Nigerian army guards fled, leaving the foreign oil workers behind. Madiebo remembered that they “soon came running out of their living quarters and caravans with their rifles and pistols.”12 However, most of them quickly surrendered to the Biafran forces once they realised the situation was hopeless. Some, however, fired upon Biafran troops. The oil workers were all taken captive and brought to Biafra.13 Eleven oil workers had been killed during the operation—ten of them Italians and one from Jordan.14 The Biafrans had captured the oil workers hoping to persuade the oil companies that it was impossible for them to continue operating during the Civil War—and that they, in turn, not wanting to lose out on profits, would persuade their governments to put pressure on the Nigerian government to agree to a ceasefire and peace talks.15 Susanne Cronje argued that “once the oilmen were in Biafra’s hands, something had to be done with them. At the advice of one of his senior colleagues, but against the recommendations of the Chief Justice of Biafra, Sir Louis Mbanefo, Ojukwu put them on trial for hostile acts against Biafra, including spying. They were condemned to death.”16 In an official statement issued during an international press conference on the Kwale incident, the Biafran leader, Lieutenant-Colonel Ojukwu, explained: A few weeks ago, during an operation at Kwale across the Niger, gallant Biafran troops captured and brought into Biafra fourteen Italians, three Germans and one Lebanese. From the reports of our field Commanders in that sector and the evidence produced during investigations and the

11 Ibid. 12 Madiebo, The Nigerian Revolution, 328–329. 13 Ibid. 14 Ibid., 328. 15 “No Oil Upon the Waters,” The Economist Foreign Report, November 27, 1969. 16 Suzanne Cronje, The World and Nigeria: The Diplomatic History of the Nigerian

Civil War 1967 –1970 (London: Sidgwick & Jackson, 1972), 148.

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subsequent trial of the men concerned, they were captured fighting alongside Nigerians against our troops. Also, they assisted in constructing roads and other means of communication to aid the enemy in their operations against our Republic. As all of you now know, these men were duly tried for crimes against the Republic of Biafra. A total of eleven charges were preferred against them. Of these, they were acquitted on nine and found guilty on two. The two counts on which they were convicted carried, under our law, the death penalty. They were accordingly condemned.17

According to Arua Oko Omaka, the result of the trial tarnished Biafra’s international image and temporarily weakened European sympathy for it.18 This minor military operation, which had led to the capture of the oilmen but had been of very little tactical importance, led to a stop in further oil production in the area until the end of the war. But more importantly, it became the operation with the most international repercussions with regard to international politics and diplomacy.19

Initial International Reactions to the Oilmen Incident As Michael Gould argued, Biafran leader “Ojukwu’s moral superiority was severely questioned by the international community following the capture of the oilmen, particularly after they had been sentenced to death.”20 As a journalist at the Daily Telegraph also pointed out: A hideous mistake is probably the best explanation for the now discovered killing of 11 foreign oil prospectors by Biafran troops. But even that seems hard to accept when 13 others are awarded the death sentence. The Biafran leader has warned foreigners employed in the Federal Nigerian economy that they are there at their own risk. He has accused the 18 oilmen, who like the massacred prospectors are mostly Italians, of fighting side by side with the Nigerians. His reticence about the massacre at the Okpai caravan site and the speed of the announcement of death sentences imply that 17 Madiebo, The Nigerian Revolution, 329. 18 Arua Oko Omaka, “The Nigerian Civil War and the ‘Italian’ Oil Workers,” War and

Society 38, no. 3 (2019): 203–224. 19 Madiebo, The Nigerian Revolution, 329–330. 20 Michael Gould, The Struggle for Modern Nigeria: The Biafran War, 1967 –1970

(London: I.B. Tauris, 2013), 82.

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much less than justice is being done. Biafran leaders seem, inexplicably to be running amok. In every respect Col. Ojukwu is blundering.21

Officials in Ojukwu’s Cabinet feared the event could tarnish Biafra’s international reputation and reduce the international humanitarian support Biafra depended upon. According to Biafra’s Minister of Commerce and Industry, Arthur Mbanefo, “this affair is a lot more complicated than any of us first realized.”22 Churches and relief organisations were equally worried since the affair seriously affected fundraising efforts in Europe for humanitarian purposes.23 The International Committee of the Red Cross was concerned because the event had contributed to a delay of negotiations with regard to daylight relief flights into Biafra. They feared that it would have disastrous effects on the supply of relief materials and thereby guarantee the return of disease and famine to war-stricken Biafra.24 While the United Nations’ Secretary-General, U-Thant, and the President of the International Committee of the Red Cross, Marcel Naville, issued public appeals asking Ojukwu to release the oilmen, the president of Ivory Coast, Félix Houphouët-Boigny, and the president of Gabon, Omar Bongo, as well as Julius Nyerere of Tanzania and Kenneth Kaunda of Zambia, personally appealed to General Ojukwu for mercy.25 Similarly, during a session of the Commission for Foreign Affairs the Italian foreign minister Pietro Nenni voiced his protest against the killing of the eleven oil workers and against the unjust death sentence passed against the eighteen captives. The Italians maintained that the argument that the oil workers were mercenaries of the Nigerian government was inadmissible and unacceptable. Italy, they argued, was not militarily involved in the

21 Ibid., 82–83. 22 American Committee to Keep Biafra Alive Inc., “Oilmen. Current News from and

About Biafra,” 15 (1969): 1. 23 Gould, The Struggle for Modern Nigeria, 83. 24 TNA, OD 30/168, Department of Technical Co-operation and successors: West and

North Africa Department, Nigeria: Biafran War; Humanitarian Aid. Confidential: Minute on International Committee of Red Cross and Nigerian Civil War Relief from the British Consular-General in Geneva to Foreign and Commonwealth Office London, 25 June 1969. 25 John Stremlau, The International Politics of the Nigerian Civil War, 1967 –1970 (New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1977), 332.

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Civil War, but had only provided humanitarian aid to the Biafran population. Ironically, General Ojukwu thanked them for these contributions with a message that came at the very moment in which their countrymen were condemned to death.26 Consequently, the public perception that developed in the countries formerly supportive of Biafra was that “the attitude of Biafran authorities and their disregard of request for the repatriation of the prisoners showed scant regard for those who have hitherto sympathized with their cause.”27 Clearly, these formerly sympathetic nations felt affronted.

Reactions of the Western European Union Between 1968 and 1969, the Western European Union regularly held discussions on the Nigerian Civil War. This was done through a series of Council and Ministerial Conferences held at regular intervals with the sole purpose of increasing the understanding among European governments of the Nigerian conflict. No doubt, public interests on the European continent and the opinion of parliamentarians in Western European countries had prompted the Western European Union’s decision to discuss the Civil War.28 At a ministerial meeting of the Union in The Hague on June 5 and 6, 1969, among other issues, political cooperation in Europe was supposed to top the agenda.29 But the gathering took an entirely different direction when Italian Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary in London, S. E. M. R. Manzini, supported by German delegates, brought

26 Italian Parliamentary Discussions, Chamber of Deputies, Sitting of 10 June, 1969, accessed July 1, 2020, http://legislature.camera.it/_dati/leg05/lavori/stenografici/sed 0141/sed0141.pdf. 27 TNA, FCO 65/242, West African Department, Nigeria, Western European Union: Discussion of the Nigerian Crisis, Confidential: Minute on the proposed talks between the British Foreign Secretary and the Foreign Ministers of Italy and Germany over the capture of their citizens from Head of West African Department of British Foreign Office John Wilson to Barrington, June 29, 1969. 28 TNA, FCO 65/241, West African Department, Nigeria, Multilateral Relations. Western European: Discussion of the Nigerian Crisis. Confidential: Foreign Office Brief No. 4: Nigeria’s Background Notes for Western European Union Ministerial Meeting Held in Luxemburg, February 6–7, 1969. 29 TNA, FCO 65/242, West African Department, Nigeria, Western European Union: Discussion of the Nigerian Crisis. Secret: WEU Ministerial Meeting at The Hague, CR (69) 14, June 5–6, 1969.

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before it the Civil War in Nigeria, in connection with the capture and killing of the Italian oil workers by the Biafran soldiers.30 Manzini argued that: The Italian government had already drawn attention to the gravity of the Nigerian conflict in every international organization including the Council of WEU [Western European Union]. They thought that now more than ever, the WEU countries should do everything in their power to assist in finding the basis for a political solution. Unfortunately, recent events had tragically confirmed the fear that the situation in Nigeria might become worse.31

The Italian government was worried that the oilmen incident might create a serious problem for future investment in Nigeria by Europeans. Therefore, the ambassador urged the members of the Western European Union to show more solidarity and support, for this was an issue not for Italy alone but for all of Europe. He argued that: The issue was to safeguard and protect the right to freedom of a team of technicians and workers whose presence in Nigeria was helping the progress of that country and its population. The WEU countries must take a firm stand to avoid a precedent that might prove dangerous in the future. What had happened to an Italian company might well in the future happen to those of other countries and their staffs, if international law and human rights in the matter were not vigorously defended.32

As we will see in what follows, while the Italians had the Europeans on their side, they nevertheless had to conduct most of the actual negotiations for the captured oilmen’s release without much help.

Italian Diplomacy As the global reactions regarding the oilmen’s capture poured in, the Italian government had consistently attempted to cooperate with the Nigerian and Biafran authorities in order to effect the liberation of the

30 Ibid. 31 Ibid. 32 Ibid.

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Italian technicians.33 The Vatican as well as the charitable organisation “Caritas” were located in Italy; both had so far shown great interest in the Biafran cause and contributed substantially to it. Thus, they also felt a certain responsibility to get involved.34 On May 23, 1969, the Vatican sent Karl Bayer, the German secretary-general of Caritas Internationalis, to Biafra to discuss the incident with the Biafran authorities.35 Bayer then asked Reverend Father Tony Byrne, an Irish Catholic missionary of the Order of the Holy Ghost and director of Catholic Social Services who had spent ten years in Eastern Nigeria, to travel to Biafra to personally hand over a letter from the Vatican to Ojukwu, himself a Catholic, asking him to liberate the Eni employees. However, Ojukwu refused to receive Byrne, since he was unwilling to discuss the release of the hostages at this point. His regime demanded that Biafra be recognised as an independent nation by the Italian government in return for the liberation of the prisoners. Here, we can observe the clear political rationale behind their capture and kidnapping, in an attempt to blackmail the international community. In response, the Italian government decided to appoint Italian undersecretary of foreign affairs Mario Pedini, to lead a special mission to Ivory Coast and Gabon, Biafra’s allies. On his journey, Pedini was also to pay a visit to Ojukwu. Pedini was instructed to press for the intervention of the Ivorian and Gabonese presidents, Félix Houphouët-Boigny and Omar Bongo.36 Right from the start of the war, both Gabon and Ivory Coast had served as the diplomatic channels between Biafra and the outside world on a variety of issues arising out of the conflict, notably peace negotiations. The two countries had both recognised Biafra’s independence. Therefore, they were deemed useful intermediaries. On Saturday, May 24, 1969, Mario Pedini received a phone call from foreign minister Pietro Nenni, requesting his immediate departure for the Ivory Coast. Nenni informed him that the oilmen situation was getting out of hand and that a political intervention was urgently needed. The Ivorian president was considered the most suitable person to act as a mediator in the 33 Like the protagonists in Brian K. Feltman’s chapter in this book, the Italian now explored every diplomatic channel they could think of to get their captured nationals released. 34 Lawrence Chuks Osuji, “Transnational Organizations as Actors in the Nigerian Civil War, 1967–1970” (PhD diss., North Texas State University, 1979), 62. 35 Stremlau, The International Politics, 332. 36 Seibert, “São Tomé and the Biafran War,” 285–286.

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case.37 According to Mario Pedini, this course of action was even favoured by Eni, the oilmen’s employer. Pedini agreed that direct intervention by the Italian government was now required but at the same time, he had doubts as to the success of his mission.38 Before his departure for West Africa, Pedini first met up in person with his superior, foreign minister Nenni, who instructed him to, on the one hand, find out more about the killed Italian oil workers, and, on the other hand, to press for the release of the surviving ones who had been sentenced to death. In doing so, he was not to compromise good relations with Nigeria. Nenni gave Pedini a letter from the Italian government, authorising the Ivorian president Houphouët-Boigny to mediate in the matter on behalf of Italy.39 Pedini then paid a courtesy visit to the Vatican where he met up with its new Secretary of State, Cardinal Villot, and informed him of his mission to Ivory Coast, Gabon, and possibly Biafra. He asked Villot for the moral support of the Holy See. Having already worked towards the release of the oilmen, the Vatican did not hesitate to grant this request. In the afternoon of May 26, 1969, Pedini left for Abidjan, together with his wife and friend Mario Bolasco, the Italian ambassador to Abidjan, the Ivory Coast’s capital.40 Pedini was received by Ivorian president Houphouët-Boigny the next day. In one of the meetings, the Ivorian president promised that “he would make the delegates return to Italy with the Italian prisoners. Ojukwu cannot fail to hand them over to him….” Two days later, on May 29, 1969, while still in Ivory Coast, Pedini was in constant communication with Rome. He received a news report, through a courier of a humanitarian initiative taken by the president of the Italian parliament’s Biafra Friendship Group. He was informed that Biafra had already agreed to the liberation of the captured German oil workers through negotiations with the Germans. Sensing the danger of such a course of action, Pedini feared that “We run the risk that the Italians will be trapped if the

37 Mario Pedini, Biafra 1969: Notebook of a Mission (Brescia: La Scuola, 1989). 38 Ibid., 24. 39 Ibid., 18. Pedini informed Nenni that he had a longstanding, good personal relationship with the President of Ivory Coast as well as other important men in the country’s then-capital, Abidjan. Reference to these connections was made in the abovementioned letter. 40 Ibid., 21.

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others are released. That would be the very last straw. We need to tighten up.”41 The following day, Houphouët-Boigny informed Pedini that his message to General Ojukwu had been received, but there was no proper response yet. The Ivorian president suspected that since it was exactly two years since Ojukwu had declared Biafra’s independence, the Biafran leader would hold a political speech to mark this occasion, in which he would refer to the Italian oilmen.42 Houphouët-Boigny was still confident, however, that the oilmen would be released. After some discussions with the Ivorian president, Pedini eventually visited Biafra himself and held a meeting with Ojukwu and his cabinet members such as the chief justice of Biafra, Louis Mbanefo. Ojukwu declared that he never meant for Italian workers to get swept up in the war, particularly because they belonged to a nation friendly to Biafra. Apparently, there was much silence at the meeting and Ojukwu eventually announced that Pedini would be allowed to visit the prisoners. The Biafran leader then promised to pardon and release the Italian oilmen according to the wishes of the Holy Father and the leaders of Ivory Coast and Gabon. It is unclear what exactly made Ojukwu change his mind. It is possible that the Biafran leader, who had been educated at a private Catholic school, backed down as a mark of respect to Pope Paul VI and the so-far very supportive presidents of the Ivory Coast and Gabon.43 Furthermore, the efforts made by the Portuguese described below, which ran parallel to the Italian efforts, are likely to have influenced his decision as well. Sensing an opportunity, rather than flying home with his Italian compatriots, Pedini informed Ojukwu that he would not accept the release of the Italian oilmen unless the prisoners of different nationality were freed as well.44 Ojukwu, who had seemingly realised by now what a disaster the oilmen incident was developing into, had no choice but to agree. However, he also scored a small win: Pedini had to promise that

41 Ibid., 22. 42 In his speech on May 30, 1969, General Ojukwu did not mention the issue of the

Italian captives, despite using harsh words against those who profiteered from the war. See: Pedini, Biafra, 26. 43 Kirk-Green, Crisis and Conflict in Nigeria, 116. 44 Pedini, Biafra, 26.

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Italian oil companies would keep out of the disputed territory for the remainder of the war.45

The Role of the Portuguese The Portuguese are to be regarded as a further important transnational actor in the negotiations surrounding the release of the captured oilmen. During the conflict, Lisbon was Biafra’s direct link to Europe. Immediately after Biafra’s declaration of independence, Portugal’s dictator, António de Oliveira Salazar, allowed Ojukwu’s regime to use Lisbon, Bissau and São Tomé airports and to establish an official representation in Lisbon. The Portuguese thus controlled almost the entire traffic to and from Biafra. However, Salazar charged Biafra heavily for the use of the various airports and communication facilities and generally maintained a low profile.46 Of particular relevance for the oilmen affair was the part played by São Tomé, a Portuguese island off West Africa, which from the beginning of the war had become an important hub for people travelling to and from Biafra as well as for the transport of military and non-military supplies.47 The Portuguese role in the oilmen affair complemented the efforts made by other foreign nations and ran parallel to them. As early as May 15, 1969, São Tomé’s governor, António Jorge da Silva Sebastião, who was generally pro-Biafran, had written to Ojukwu that he had no doubts about the security of the captured oilmen “since Biafra never would lose this opportunity to once again show the world the high respect […] attributed to the life of any human being.” A few days later, Ojukwu replied: “I have noted your Excellency’s advice regarding the captives now in our hands and can assure you that in determining their fate, I will not do anything against the Christian traditions which we in Biafra profess and so much cherish.”48 Around the same time, da Silva Sebastião also opened negotiations with a Biafran minister in São Tomé. The Biafran minister feared that a straightforward liberation of the hostages would make other foreign nations running Nigerian oil installations think that they had nothing to fear, even if they supported

45 Cronje, The World and Nigeria. 46 Seibert, “São Tomé and the Biafran War,” 269. 47 Ibid. 48 Ibid., 285.

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Nigeria in the Civil War, and that this was to be avoided for political reasons. Da Silva Sebastião believed that such fears were unfounded. He instead argued that liberating the hostages was an opportunity to make an example by publicly issuing a warning that this was to be an exception and that in future raids on Nigerian oil installations, foreigners taken hostage would be considered Nigerian collaborators and treated accordingly.49 On May 29, 1969, da Silva Sebastião received Eni president Eugenio Cefis, who instructed him to inform the Biafran authorities that he was prepared to pay whatever sum necessary for the release of the captured oilmen. Knowing that Biafra’s planes were all lying damaged on the ground, the governor told Biafra’s local representative in São Tomé, E.F.C. Obi, that Eni was even prepared to offer its four or five Super Constellations in exchange for the release of the hostages.50 The Portuguese, Ojukwu’s most trusted allies, reminded the Biafran representative that Biafra risked to lose much of the assistance given to them internationally if they did not agree to the captives’ release. The Portuguese foreign minister, Franco Nogueira, also warned the Biafran representative in Lisbon about the international repercussions and the threat of a cessation of the São Tomé airlift by the churches.51 Nogueira could put so much pressure on the Biafrans without fear of repercussion because he knew Ojukwu could not afford to abandon São Tomé, it being the most important link between Biafra and the outside world. On June 5, 1969, according to an unconfirmed press report received by the British Foreign Office, the Biafran government intended to release the captured oilmen “as soon as certain procedural formalities have been completed.” One source stated that: at an angry meeting with Biafran Representatives in Lisbon the Portuguese made it plain that if the death sentences on the oilmen were carried out the Portuguese could retaliate by halting clandestine gun-running flights out of Lisbon by throwing Biafrans off the Island of São Tomé and closing

49 Ibid. 50 Ibid. 51 Ibid., 286.

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Lisbon to Biafrans which would cut their main telex links with the outside world.52

This latest threat from the Portuguese—a very serious one for Biafra— as well as diplomatic moves by Italy, Ivory Coast and Gabon, made the continued holding of the captives untenable for Ojukwu, who succumbed and agreed to release the oil workers.

The Release and Repatriation of the Oilmen Biafra’s local representative in São Tomé, E.F.C. Obi, in a message to da Silva Sebastião, informed him that “the hostages would be released at 7 pm on 5th June and handed over to the Pope through Monsignor Okoye, the Bishop of Port Harcourt.”53 This is, perhaps, indicative of the fact that Ojukwu’s Catholicism had influenced his decision to some degree. On the same day, Ojukwu delivered a speech on “the release of the eighteen expatriates” in which he gave further information on the release process: We meet today, on this happy but solemn occasion, to witness their release. They will be released and handed over to our friends of the Republic of Ivory Coast and Gabon where the arrangement will be made to fly them back to their respective countries. All of us, in Biafra, are happy and proud that we have been able to perform this Christian and magnanimous act in spite of all provocations and injuries of the greatest and varied magnitude which we have suffered at the hands of our enemies.54

On June 6, 1969, formal arrangements for the handover of the captives were being made, involving the governments, or representatives thereof, of Italy, Ivory Coast, Gabon and Portugal. Ojukwu insisted on personally handing over the prisoners.55 The authorities in São Tomé reported 52 TNA, FCO 65/242, West African Department, Nigeria, Western European Union: Discussion of the Nigerian Crisis Confidential: Minute on Oilmen and Nigeria, WEU Ministerial Meeting from Foreign Office to The Hague Telegram No. 155, June 5, 1969. 53 Seibert, “São Tomé and the Biafran War,” 286. 54 Ojukwu, Odumegwu, “Transcript of a Speech by General C. Odumegwu Ojukwu

on the Release of the Eighteen Expatriates Captured by the Biafran Troops During an Operation at Kwale,” Biafra News, June 6, 1969. 55 Pedini, Biafra, 42.

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that the hostages were to be turned over to Bishop Okoye and Bayer, the already-mentioned secretary-general of Caritas.56 Reverend Father Byrne, former missionary belonging to the Order of the Holy Ghost, claims that when he returned from Paris to São Tomé in June 1969, he was surprised to receive an invitation from Ojukwu to witness the release of the Eni hostages, together with Bayer, in response to the Vatican’s request for clemency. This ceremony was clearly a publicity stunt by Ojukwu. According to Reverend Father Byrne’s account, he and Bayer signed the release documents during a formal ceremony attended by many journalists and then accompanied the eighteen hostages to Uli, which was located north of Port Harcourt, from where they were flown on a church flight to Libreville, the capital of Gabon.57 On June 7, 1969, the former captives, together with Pedini, left Libreville on an Alitalia DC-8 aircraft chartered by Eni, heading for São Tomé. During the stopover in São Tomé, a ceremony was held aboard the plane to thank the Portuguese government and the governor for their mediation.58 From there, the hostages flew to Abidjan where they were received by the Ivorian president HouphouëtBoigny before departing to Rome.59 This return route, touching down in Gabon, Ivory Coast as well as Portuguese territory, is perhaps indicative of the important role the intermediaries from these nations had played in the release negotiations. Following the oil workers’ arrival back home, the Italian premier Mariano Rumor, sent a telegram to the Italian deputy foreign minister, stating: The moment you return home with the workers…, survivors of a tragic event in Africa, I would like to offer you the greetings and the warmest thanks of the Government and the Italian people. In the long term you have had to put all your energy into getting it done; a task as difficult and delicate as ever, we’ve been following you with anxiety and trepidation and we really rejoiced in learning of the success that crowned your mission.60

56 Seibert, “São Tomé and the Biafran War,” 286. 57 Ibid. 58 Pedini, Biafra, 46. 59 Gerhard Seibert, “São Tomé and the Biafran War,” 286. 60 Pedini, Biafra, 47.

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At the airport in Rome, the liberated prisoners were welcomed by cheering crowds and received by the Italian president, Giuseppe Saragat. From the airport, the released hostages were taken to the Vatican, where Pope Paul VI received them during a midnight audience. A few weeks later, Cefis, Pedini and the fourteen Italian Eni technicians thanked the governor of São Tomé, António Jorge da Silva Sebastião for his role in the release. In July 1969, Italy’s consul-general in Luanda, Francesco Troise, awarded his country’s order of merit to da Silva Sebastião in recognition for his mediation in the liberation of the Eni workers.61 Clearly, this transnational actor had been crucial in effecting their eventual release.

Conclusion Until today, some uncertainty remains whether the captives were released purely due to the negotiations described in this chapter, or if some ransom was paid as well. It is not unlikely that the Biafran authorities released the men only after extracting a substantial sum from their employers. If this was the case, the figure paid remains unknown. Nevertheless, it cannot be denied that any such sum hardly made up for the damage the incident did to Biafra’s moral authority and international reputation.62 However, in the end, without the extensive negotiations during which the Biafran authorities were put under pressure by numerous diplomatic actors, many from nations which were not even directly affected, the release of the captured oilmen would not have been possible. It was a win-win for all the intermediaries involved, for they eventually got what they wanted, that is, the release of the oilmen. Their success had been made possible by mapping out different diplomatic routes. While Italy collaborated with two important allies of Biafra, Ivory Coast and Gabon, to engage Ojukwu in negotiations, Portugal used São Tomé, her island in West Africa, to negotiate with Biafra over this matter. These nations, by and large, also had the support of various other countries backing them up, in Africa as well as in Europe, which also helped to mount pressure on Ojukwu to allow the oilmen’s return to their respective home countries. Even though this cannot be exactly measured, the intervention and appeals of the Catholic Church were also highly significant, appealing

61 Seibert, “São Tomé and the Biafran War,” 286. 62 Chuks Osuji, “Transnational Organizations,” 61.

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to the Catholic Biafran leadership from a moral, Christian standpoint. Further research should delve into Ojukwu’s decision-making process and the debate, whether Eni have owned up to the ransom or whether they were under pressure not to do so by major powers fearing a dangerous precedent. The “oilmen episode” of the Nigerian Civil War is an example of how negotiations led by various transnational actors working together can lead to the release of captives in war. The attitude of the Biafran authorities— and their initial disregard for the repatriation of the captives—were seen as disrespectful of those in Europe who had hitherto sympathised with the Biafran cause. Biafra’s most significant allies, namely Gabon, Ivory Coast and Portugal, forged a common diplomatic front and threatened that if Biafra did not release the European oil workers, they would stand to lose all the support given to them since the war’s beginning. For the first time since the Nigerian Civil War had broken out, the peoples and governments of European nations truly spoke in harmony—and the Biafran authorities eventually had no choice but to cave in.

References Archival Sources Italian Parliamentary Discussions, Chamber of Deputies, Sitting of June 10, 1969, http://legislature.camera.it/_dati/leg05/lavori/stenografici/sed 0141/sed0141.pdf. Accessed July 1, 2020. TNA (The National Archives of the UK), FCO 65/362, West African Department. Mercenaries in Biafra. TNA, FCO 65/241, West African Department, Nigeria, Multilateral Relations. Western European: Discussion of the Nigerian Crisis. TNA, FCO 65/242, West African Department, Nigeria, Western European Union: Discussion of the Nigerian Crisis. TNA, FCO 65/436, West African Department, Nigeria, Oil: General Policy. TNA, FCO 38/297, West and General Africa Department. Nigeria. Relief Operations and Financial Aid for Nigeria. TNA, OD 30/168, Department of Technical Co-operation and Successors: West and North Africa Department, Nigeria: Biafran War; Humanitarian Aid.

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Literature Achebe, Chinua. 2012. There Was a Country: A Personal History of Biafra. London: Penguin Books. Agwuncha Nwankwo, Arthur, and Samuel Udochukwu Ifejika. 1969. The Making of a Nation: Biafra. London: C. Hurst & Company. American Committee to Keep Biafra Alive Inc. 1969. Oilmen. Current News from and About Biafra. Bloom, Bridget. 1969. Biafran Threat to Nigeria’s Oil, Financial Times, May 31. Cronje, Suzanne. 1972. The World and Nigeria: The Diplomatic History of the Nigerian Civil War 1967–1970. London: Sidgwick & Jackson. Gould, Michael. 2013. The Struggle for Modern Nigeria: The Biafran War, 1967– 1970. London: I.B. Tauris. Kirk-Greene, A.H.M. 1971. Crisis and Conflict in Nigeria: A Documentary Source Book, 1966–1969, Volume II. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Madiebo, Alexander A. 1980. The Nigerian Revolution and the Biafran War. Enugu: Fourth Dimension Publishing Company. Ojukwu, Odumegwu. 1969. Transcript of a Speech by General C. Odumegwu Ojukwu on the Release of the Eighteen Expatriates Captured by the Biafran Troops During an Operation at Kwale, Biafra News, June 6. Oko Omaka, Arua. 2019. The Nigerian Civil War and the ‘Italian’ Oil Workers, War and Society 38: 203–224. Oluchuchukwu Ignatus, Onianwa. 2019. Oilfields and Airpower in African Conflict: The Case of Biafra. Washington, DC and London: Academica Press. Osuji, Lawrence Chuks. 1979. Transnational Organizations as Actors in the Nigerian Civil War, 1967–1970. PhD diss., North Texas State University. Pedini, Mario. 1989. Biafra 1969: Notebook of a Mission. Brescia: La Scuola. Seibert, Gerhard. 2018. São Tomé and the Biafran War, 1967–1970. The International Journal of African Historical Studies 5: 263–292. Stremlau, John. 1977. The International Politics of the Nigerian Civil War, 1967– 1970. New Jersey: Princeton University Press. Tattersall, David. 1969. Biafra Captive Sally Is Home, Daily Mirror, June 18. Unknown. 1969. No Oil Upon the Waters, The Economist Foreign Report, November 27. Unknown. 1969. Oilmen Back in Italy, Current News from and about Biafra, June 3. Warren, Godfrey B. 2000. Petroleum and the Nigerian Civil War, 1967–1970. The Fletcher Forum 3: 66–81.

Index

A Abidjan, 166, 171 Achebe, Chinua, 159 Addams, Jane, 56 Afghanistan, 18 Africa, 1, 11, 158, 162, 171, 172 Akin, Spencer B., 123 Algiers, 109, 144 Alitalia, 171 Allied Council for Japan, 121, 126–129, 132, 134 Amazon, river, 86 American Women’s League, 56 Amnesty International, 14, 140, 153 Anderson, George, 29, 30 Anglo-Japanese Civilian Exchange, 107 Apple, R.W., 139, 142, 143 Archives of New Caledonia (ANC), 103 Argentina, 78, 81, 82, 84, 90, 92, 104 Armenia, 80 Army, Nigeria, 159, 160

Army of the Republic of Vietnam Corps Combat Captive Camps (ARVN), 145 Asia, 11, 80, 102, 119, 130, 144 Associated Press (AP), 57, 59 Association of German Women for Prisoner Repatriation, Deutsche Frauenliga zur Heimholung der Kriegsgefangenen, 51 Asuncíon, 83 Atsugi, 122 Australia, 102–108, 110, 111, 113–115, 122, 138, 153 Austro-Hungarian Empire, 11, 25, 28, 34, 44 B Baden, Max, von, 65 Baker, Henry D., 33, 35, 36, 39 Balcazar, Juan Manuel, 79, 87, 88 Barbados, 26, 28, 29, 39–42 Bataan Boys, 123, 134 Bauer, Gustav, 55, 63, 64 Bauman, Zygmunt, 8

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 M. Berni and T. Cubito (eds.), Captivity in War during the Twentieth Century, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-65095-7

175

176

INDEX

Bayer, Karl, 165, 171 Berliner Philharmonic, 57, 63 Bermuda, 26, 28–33, 35, 43, 44 Berni, Marcel, 9, 14, 106, 137, 140 Biafra Friendship Group, 166 Biafran Military Intelligence (BMI), 159 Biafra, Republic of, 15, 157, 161 Bishop of Port Harcourt, 170 Bissau, 168 Bolasco, Mario, 166 Bolivia, 5, 12, 73, 74, 76–80, 83–93 Bongo, Omar, 162, 165 Borneo, North, 28, 34, 35, 38 Bossard, Léon, 111, 114 Braden, Spruille, 90, 91, 94 Brazil, 78, 81, 90, 92 Brescia, 1, 166 Brisbane, 103, 111–113 British Empire, 43 Bröger, Karl, 56, 57 Bruce, David K.E., 148 Buenos Aires, 74, 78, 84 Buenos Aires Peace Conference, 89 Bulgaria, 82 Bundy, Arthur J., 30 Bustamante, Daniel S., 75 Byrne, Tony, 165, 171

C Cajuai, 85 Calvo, Carlos, 89, 90 Canberra, 102, 112, 113 Canje de Repatriación, 90 Cap des Palmes, 107 Caribbean, 35, 44 Caritas, 165, 171 Casey, Hugh J., 123 Catholic Church, 13, 77, 79, 86, 172 Catholic Social Services, 165 Cefis, Eugenio, 169, 172

Central Powers, 26 Ceylon, 28 Chaco War, 11, 12, 73, 74, 78, 79, 89, 92, 95, 96 Chapare, 84, 86, 87 Childs, Stephen Lawford, 81, 82 Chile, 74, 75, 90 China, 14, 121, 125, 126, 129–131 Chulumani, 85 Civil Intelligence Section, US, 131, 132 Civil Operations and Revolutionary Development Support, 148 Clemenceau, Georges, 62, 67 Cochabamba, 80, 84–86, 95 Cold War, 10, 14–16, 119–121, 123, 125, 133, 134 Colonial Office, 28, 32, 40–43 Combined Corps Interrogation Centre, 145, 148 Combined Division Interrogation Centre, 145 Combined Military Intelligence Centre (CMIC), 145, 148, 149 Comité Pro-Prisioneros de Guerra, 86 Con Son Island, 145 Coroico, 85 Cossacks, 82 Costa, Podesta, 92 Cramer, Lucien, 86, 87 Cronje, Susanne, 160, 168 Cubito, Tamara, 11, 13, 102 Czechoslovakia, 82

D Dai-Ichi-Building, 123 Daily Telegraph, 161 Da Nang, 139 Denmark, 12, 67 Derevyanko, Kuzma N., 128 De-Sousa, Gil Pinto, 158

INDEX

Diplomatic Archives of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Japan (MOFA), 103, 108, 109 Doeltz, Ida, 64, 65 Dunant, Herny, 2, 3, 9, 18 E East Asia, 130, 133 Ebert, Friedrich, 55, 63 Embassy Political Military Section, US, 150 Emperor, Japan, 123, 124 Eni, 158–160, 165, 166, 169, 171–173 Entente, 26, 36, 55, 61 Erzberger, Matthias, 60, 61 Europe, 10–12, 25, 26, 28, 36, 43, 44, 59, 77, 80–82, 95, 96, 104, 158, 162–164, 168, 172, 173 F Federal Military Government, Nigeria, 157 Fell, T.E., 39–42 Feltman, Brian K., 8, 12, 49–51, 56, 57, 60, 63, 64, 165 Florit, Ernesto, 91 Foch, Ferdinand, 52, 53, 60 Foreign Office, British, 28, 32, 109, 163, 169 France, 50, 52, 56, 59, 60, 62, 65, 66, 69, 104, 106, 110, 112, 115, 141 Franco-Prussian War, 23 Fraser, Percy, 37, 38 Free World Military Assistance Armed Forces, 138 French Committee of National Liberation, 109 French Diplomatic Archives (FDA), 103, 112

177

French Legation, 112 G Gabon, 158, 162, 165–167, 170–173 Galland, Emmanuel A., 86, 87 Geneva, 2, 9, 64, 74, 76, 78, 79, 81, 84, 86–88, 102, 110, 112, 139, 141–144, 147, 153, 162 Geneva Accords, 75 Geneva Conventions (GC), 96, 103, 108, 138, 139, 142–144, 150 George, Harold H., 123 George, Thomas, 130 German Empire, Germany, 25, 27, 33, 34, 42, 87 Gibraltar, 28, 29, 33, 37 Glendairy Prison, 40 Goatcher, Sally, 157 Gould, Michael, 161, 162 Gowon, Yakubu, 157 Grand Terre, 106 Great Britain, 121 Greiz, 61, 62 Guaracuayan peoples, 76 H Hague Conventions, 49 Hale, Nathan, 152, 153 Hamada, Kenzo, 107 Hamburg, 9, 63, 137 Hanson, G.M., 35, 38 Hedinger, Hans, 103, 108 Hilton, Matthew, 3, 5 Hirohito, 123 Holy Father, 167 Holy See, 166 Hong Kong, 28–30, 34, 35 Ho Shai-lai, Robert, 129 Houphouët-Boigny, Félix, 162, 165–167, 171 House of Representatives, Japan, 128

178

INDEX

Huns, 68, 69 Huston, Cloyce K., 127

I Ignatus, Onianwa Oluchuchukwu, 15, 53, 59, 159 India, 24 Indochina Operational Group, 152 Indochina War, 137, 141 International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC), 2–5, 13, 14, 17, 18, 24, 30, 43, 64, 65, 77–80, 83, 84, 86–89, 102–106, 108, 110–112, 114–116, 139–144, 146–153, 162 International Labour Organization, 4 International Standing Commission for Aid to Wounded Soldiers , 2, 3 Iraq, 18 Italian government, 159, 164–166 Italian War of Independence, second, 2 Italy, 55, 67, 122, 162–166, 170, 172 Ivory Coast, 158, 162, 165–167, 170–173

J Jacob, Frank, 14, 53, 95, 105, 114, 119, 121, 125 Jamaica, 28, 30 Japan, 14, 65, 78, 102–110, 113–115, 119–123, 125, 126, 128–130, 132–134 Japanese Communist Party (JCP), 133 Japanese Empire, 119 Jordan, 160

K Kaunda, Kenneth, 162 Kawai, Tatsuo, 107, 108

Keblinger, Wilbur, 32, 34, 37, 39 Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes, 82 Kislenko, S.P., 126 Kollwitz, Käthe, 57 Konstanz, 51, 66 Korean War, 130 Kruse, Helene, 51, 60 Kundt, Hans, 83 Kwale, 159, 160, 170 Kyuichi, Tokuda, 133 L La Forestal, 85 Lagos, 158 La Liceo de señoritas, 79 La Paz, 75, 76, 79, 83–85, 88, 91, 92 La Quiaca, 91 La Union, company, 81, 82 League of Nations High Commission for Refugees, 80 League of Nations (LON), 4, 13, 75–78, 80, 81, 88, 95, 111 Libreville, 171 Lincoln, Abraham, 56–58, 96, 120, 123, 125 Linh, Bui Tan, 143 Lisbon, 168–170 Livingston, Ludlow C., 29, 39–42 London, 2, 8, 28, 32, 41–44, 109, 120, 122, 123, 125, 140, 157, 159–163 Loop, Carl R., 27, 29–33, 35, 43, 44 Lourenço Marques, 107 Loveday, camp, 114 Luanda, 172 M MacArthur, Douglas, 14, 114, 120–126, 130–134 Madiebo, Alexander A., 159–161

INDEX

Malta, 28, 34, 37, 39 Mamoré, river, 86 Manchuria, 126 Manzini, S.E.M.R., 163, 164 Manz, Stefan, 28, 43 Maputo, 107 Matsuoka, Shuzo, 115 Mbanefo, Arthur, 162 Mbanefo, Louis, 160, 167 McConnico, Andrew, 33, 38 Melbourne, 103, 107, 108, 111 Memory of Solferino, a, book, 2 Middle East, 130 Midwestern Region, Nigeria, 159 Military Assistance Command Vietnam (MACV), 138, 140, 142, 145, 147, 149 Military, US, 39, 106, 138 Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Paraguayan, 87 Ministry of Interior, South Vietnam, 148 Mitteilungen des Volksbundes zum Schutze der deutschen Kriegs-und Zivilgefangenen, 51, 54 Mitter, Rana, 5 Moissi, Alexander, 66 Monaghan, James C., 30 Monmayou, Roger, 112, 113 More, Federico, 76 Morel, Georges, 110–114 Moscow, 121, 127, 129, 134 Mozambique, 107 Münster, 51–53, 60

N Nansen Commission, 13, 77, 81 Nansen, Fridtjof, 80, 81 Nansen International Office for Refugees, 81 Nantes, 103

179

National Archives of Australia (NAA), 102, 103, 108, 115 National Archives of the United Kingdom (TNA), 103, 158 National Assembly, Germany, 55, 56 National Liberation Front (NLF), 141, 142, 144, 148 Naville, Marcel, 151, 162 Nenni, Pietro, 162, 165, 166 Netherlands, 111 New Caledonia, 5, 13, 101–103, 105–116 New York, 8–10, 26, 44, 48–50, 53, 74, 79, 83, 103, 106, 109, 120, 122, 153 New York Times, 88, 139, 142, 146 New Zealand, 104–106, 111, 114, 138 Niebuhr, Robert, 12, 13, 74, 75, 77, 86, 96 Nigeria, 157–159, 162–166, 169, 170 Nigerian Civil War, 11, 15, 157, 158, 161–163, 165, 173 Nishimori, Aminah, 113, 114 Nogueira, Franco, 169 North Vietnam, 14, 137, 141, 146, 148 Norway, 12, 67 Noumea, 103, 106–108, 113, 115 Nouville, 107–109, 111–116 Nuku’alofa, 111 Nyere, Julius, 162 O Obi, E.F.C., 169, 170 Ojukwu, Chukwuemeka Odumegwu, 157, 160–163, 165–173 Okoye, Godfrey Mary Paul, 170, 171 Okpai, 160 Omaka, Arua Oko, 161 Order of the Holy Ghost, 165, 171 Ottoman Empire, 11, 25, 28

180

INDEX

P Pacheco de Marion, Maria, 86 Pacific, 75, 102, 103, 106, 107, 109, 115, 120–122, 146 Panayi, Panikos, 8, 27, 28, 43 Panopticum, hospital, 87 Paraguay, 12, 73, 74, 76–84, 86–88, 90–93, 95 Paris Peace Accords, 153 Peddinghaus, Paul, 63 Pedini, Mario, 165–167, 170–172 People’s League for the Protection of the German Prisoners of War and Civilian Internees, Volksbund zum Schutze der deutschen Kriegs-und Zivilgefangenen, 50, 51 Pershing, John J., 75 Peru, 75, 90 Philippines, 110, 138 Phu Quoc, 150, 152 Pleiku, 152 Pope, 59, 60, 170 Pope Benedict XV, 59, 60, 67 Pope Paul VI, 167, 172 Port Harcourt, 171 Port of Spain, 36, 39 Portugal, 168, 170, 172, 173 Portuguese East Africa, 107 Portuguese government, 158, 171 Potsdam, 122 Potsdam Declaration, 128 Prisoners of war (PWs), 3, 9, 11–14, 23, 24, 27–29, 33, 37, 38, 40, 41, 43, 44, 47–50, 53, 54, 56, 57, 61, 62, 64, 65, 67–69, 76, 87, 96, 103–105, 108, 109, 111, 120, 121, 125–134, 137–140, 142, 143, 145–150, 152, 153, 158 Probyn, Leslie, 26, 39–42 Puerto Casado, 78, 83

Q Qui Nhon, 152 R Red Cross Societies, 141, 144, 152 American, 2, 56, 141, 147 Bolivian, 79, 87, 88 Paraguayan, 79 Reichsvereinigung ehemaliger Kriegsgefangener, Reich Association of Former Prisoners of War, 68 Reichszentralstelle für Kriegs- und Zivilgefangene, 59 Revolutionary Wars, French, 91 Rio de la Plata, 81 Rojas, Hilario, 88, 89 Rome, 59, 166, 171, 172 Rotary Club, 13, 77, 85, 86 Rumor, Mariano, 171 Rusk, Dean, 142, 143 Russia, 65, 77 Russian Empire, 65, 77, 82 Ryoi, Yoshimoto, 133 S Saavedra, Bautista, 75, 79 Saavedra, Julia de, 79 Saigon, 139, 141, 143–147, 149, 151–153 Salamanca, Daniel, 83, 84 Salazar, António de Oliveira, 168 São Tomé, 158, 165, 168–172 Saragat, Giuseppe, 172 Save the Children Fund, 4, 157 Schilling, Eva, 64 Schulz-Kügler, Monika, “Schwester Monika”, 51 Sebald, William J., 126, 128, 129, 132, 133 Sebastião, António Jorge da Silva, 168–170, 172

INDEX

Shigeto, Matsu, 133 Shoichi, Kobayashi, 133 Sohn, I.R., 58 Solferino, battle of, 2 Somes Island, 111 Sonneberg, 60 Soruco, Eloisa, 88 South East Asia, 14, 130, 138, 140, 141, 145, 147, 149, 151–153 South Vietnam, 14, 138, 140–143, 145–147, 149–151, 153 Soviet Union, 14, 120, 121, 125–134 Spain, 26, 105, 109, 110 Spanish-American War, 24 Speed, Richard B. III, 25, 53 Sprague, R.L., 29, 33, 37, 39 Stahl, Else, 61 State Department, US, 25, 28, 32, 110 State-War-Navy-Coordinating Committee, 122 Stefanich, Juan, 78, 92 Straits Settlements, 28 Sucre, 77, 84–88 Suguira, Masajiro, 113 Super Constellations, 169 Supreme Commander of the Allied Powers (SCAP), 105, 114, 120, 121, 126–130, 132, 133 Svietlov group, 82 Sweden, 12, 26, 65, 67, 105 Switzerland, 16, 24, 26, 51, 66, 79, 81, 102–105, 114, 144 Sydney, 103, 111, 112 Syria, 18

T Tacna-Arica Plebiscite, 75 Talica, Rodolfo, 87 Tejada Sorzano, José Luis, 77, 88 Terwin, Johanna, 66

181

Thant, U, 162 The Hague, 66, 87, 89, 163, 170 Tobago, 34, 35, 37, 39 Tokyo, 106, 114, 121, 123, 126–129, 132 Tonga, 111 Toro, David, 85 Trinidad, 28, 33–39, 41 Troise, Francesco, 172 Tschiffeli, André, 147 U Übermaier, Auguste, 56 Uli, 171 United Kingdom (UK), 104, 105 United Nations (UNO), 4, 74, 88, 95, 96, 128, 162 United States Army, 106 United States Navy, 106 United States of America (USA), 11, 12, 24–40, 42–44, 52, 55, 62, 65, 75, 77, 90, 95, 105, 106, 109, 110, 112, 121, 122, 126, 127, 129, 130, 134, 138–143, 148–150, 158 Uruguay, 90 V Valle, Ricardo, 92 Vatican, 15, 60, 158, 165, 166, 171, 172 Versailles, Treaty of, 47, 53, 59–62, 68 Vichy France, 102, 104 Vietcong, 138 Vietnam, 137, 140, 142, 144–147, 150, 151, 153 Vietnam War, 8, 106, 137, 153 Villot, Jean-Marie, 166 von Lersner, Baron Wilhelm, 50, 51, 63, 67, 68

182

INDEX

von Rosen, Carl Gustav, 159 W Wachler, A., 60, 61 Ward, Rowena, 13, 14, 24, 102, 107, 115, 140 Washington, 10, 26, 75, 78, 105, 123, 125, 137, 142, 146, 151, 153, 159 Washington Post, 146, 148, 149, 151, 153 Weimar Republic, 12, 55 West Africa, 15, 166, 168, 172 Western European Union, 15, 158, 163, 164, 170 Westmoreland, William C., 142 Wilson, Edith, 52 Wilson, Woodrow, 52, 59, 75

Winship, Stephen, 150, 151 World War, First, 3, 10, 12, 24, 36, 47, 48, 68, 77, 78, 80, 87, 89, 95, 125 World War, Second, 8, 13, 14, 16, 24, 102–104, 106, 121, 128, 133, 140 Y Yokohama, 122 Young Men’s Christian Association (YMCA), 10, 49 Yugoslavia, 82 Yungas, 84, 85 Z Zouaves, 1