BX November 24, 1914
Detained But Quite Happy – Alexander Hazel Says He is Not Suffering at the Hands of the Germans
Verification of the announcement that Alexander Hazel of this city, a reservist of the Royal Army Medical Corps had been taken prisoner by the Germans has been received by James Hazel, his father, in a short letter from Pte. J.T. Austin a fellow worker of Alex Hazel, they being in the same corps.
The letter, denuded of personal notes, is as follows:
No. 1334 Pte. J.T. Austin
C. Sec., 22nd Field Ambulance
7th Division, R.A.M.C.,
Expeditionary Force
Mr. Hazel,
Dear Sir,
Having the pleasure of knowing your son Alex, I take liberty in first dropping you a few lines on his behalf hoping they find you in the best of health, as they leave us. I may say that you may not hear from him for the duration of the war, as he has been taken into the hands of the enemy, and will be quite alright as far as we know, so you will not have to worry, about not hearing from him. I hope that you will inform his wife, Mrs. Hazel. I had the pleasure of meeting Alex at Quebec on my way to the front, and we have been together since, up to the time of his capture, so I thought it my duty to let you know.
J.T. Austin
Word was previously received, however, by Mrs. Hazel, in a letter from her husband at the detention camp at Gotten, Germany.
Mr. Hazel has also received a short letter from his son, dated from Gotten Camp, Germany, where he is a prisoner saying that he is being well treated and has no cause for complaint other than that he is cut off from his friends.
BX July 13, 1915
Alexander Hazel Again in England – Was Captured and Held a Prisoner in Germany For 10 Months
James Hazel, of the Bodega Tavern, this morning received a postcard from his brother, Pte. Alexander Hazel, announcing that he had returned to England after being held in a prisoner of war camp in Germany for the last ten months. It will be recalled that Pte. Hazel, who is a British reservist, left Brantford at the outbreak of the war and went into active service with the Royal Army Medical Corps. During the month of October, he was taken prisoner by the Huns, and since that time has been held in one of the military camps in Germany. Pte. Alexander Hazel was included among those sent back to England, where he is now stationed.
BX September 20, 1915
Private J. Smith – A Poetic Tribute to a Fallen Hero, Written by a Brantford Man While a Prisoner
While a prisoner in Gottingen Camp, Germany, Pte. Alex. Hazel, of this city, brother of Chas. Hazel of the Bodega Tavern, and a member of the R.A.M.C., spent some spare moments in writing a recitation, a copy of which has been received here. As written by a British soldier while a prisoner of the Huns, the poem is of interest, aside from its merit as a poem, and for that reason The Expositor herewith reproduces it. Pte. Hazel, it should be remarked, is no longer a prisoner, he having been one of the non-combatants released in an exchange of Red Cross Workers.
March 25, 1915
Prisoners Camp
Gottingen, Germany
John Smith
The scene is a railway station,
With people cheering long and loud,
For here and there are merry soldiers
Mingled with the excited crowd.
The reason for this demonstration
On this memorable summer’s eve,
Is – the boys have been ordered to the front,
And are just about to leave.
Now an engine’s whistle is heard,
The train draws in with a might rush,
And over all this great gathering
Fell a deep, deep silent hush.
No one can distinguish sighting
Female tears begin to flow,
Although they all try to be brave,
For they know their boys must go.
With a last handshake, and parting kiss.
The soldiers board the train,
And as it leaves each one wonders
When they’ll meet their friends again
From a railway station the scene is changed.
To where grim deeds are done,
It is that of a battle field,
Where victories are won.
Now the shot and shell are screaming.
Each side for the victory strives,
Too eager to think of the loss of lives
And there in one of the trenches,
Stands a lad, John Smith by name
He is one of the able defenders
Of his country’s worldwide fame.
Then suddenly a shout is heard,
“Who’ll go for water?” is the cry,
But the reply is drowned by the roar of cannon
As they send their messages for men to die.
After this there came a lull
Then the sound of a voice nearby
“I will bring the water,” says Smith
“Well, at least I’ll have a try.”
Smith climbed warily from the trench
And started on his way,
“Bravo! Smith” his captain said,
“You’re the best lad of the day.”
Smith reached the spring in safety
And with his load he started back
In each hand a pail of water
His comrades thirst to slack.
He’d nearly reached the mouth of the trench,
When crack! A rifle spat its lead,
Smith staggered, then he fell,
And his comrades thought him dead.
They drew him slowly into the trench
Feebly breathing, that was all,
And all felt sad for thy knew poor Smith
Would soon answer the Greater Call.
Smith then opened his eyes
His lips moved and he said,
“My Mother,” then fell back,
Alas! Poor Smith was dead.
And alone in a country cottage,
A woman knelt down to pray,
She was praying for her only son
Who for his comrades, died that day.
A. Hazel