In the first of an occasional series on garden history, Gillian Vine looks at a garden developed near Berlin by World War 1 internees.
When World War 1 broke out in August 1914, more than 5000 British and Commonwealth civilians were trapped in Germany or stranded on merchant ships docked in German ports.
They were rounded up and held until the war ended.
Considered internees, not prisoners of war, initially they were imprisoned in various places, but on February 6, 1915, New Zealand newspapers reported: ''The commandant at Hamburg ordered all Australasians to be interned at Ruhleben.''
The name was new, except perhaps to those who had attended prewar race meetings in Berlin, for Ruhleben was a racecourse on the outskirts of the city.
There the captives lived in stables, six or seven to a stall, with 200 German guards around the perimeter.
Although there were about 60 Australians and New Zealanders in the group, it was not until August 21, 1915, that the Otago Daily Times was able to report: ''A number of civilian New Zealanders are interned in Germany.''
Their names were listed but details about many are scant, although Christchurch man Charles Webster appears to have worked in Dunedin at one point; George Squire, of Timaru, whose mother was German, had been working in Berlin for at least four years before the war; Tom Sullivan was a well-known rower; Horace Hunt was a pianist and composer; and A. H. Jones was a teacher from Christchurch Technical College, in Germany to teach and study.
Like other New Zealanders, Jones was at first kept under surveillance, then in February.
1915, transferred to Ruhleben.
On August 21, 1915, the Otago Daily Times reported that George Squire's father had received a postcard from him, ''stating that he was still at Ruhleben, safe and sound. The authorities in Germany are evidently allowing money sent to prisoners in the camp [and] he had received the three sums of money sent him by his father''.
His wife was permitted to visit him once a month.
With talented sportsmen, musicians and engineers among them, the men at Ruhleben were able to organise themselves into mini-Britain - there was even a road named Bond St, postage stamps for internal mail and a police force - and entertain themselves but the greatest achievement was the creation of a huge garden.
''The idea of having gardens originated with the gardeners interned in the camp,'' wrote Joseph Powell and Francis Henry Gribble, in A History of Ruhleben (1919).
''Some started to grow shrubs to hide the barbed wire. The sailors of Barrack VIII made a rose garden, and were very proud of it.''
The garden might never have become significant had it not been for a letter from Scotsman Thomas Howat to the Royal Horticultural Society, in London.
The letter, dated September 30, 1916, advised the RHS that five days earlier ''a horticultural society was formed with the title Ruhleben Horticultural Society, the aim being to cultivate the land around the barracks, in the Lager [German for a storehouse or warehouse], and to further the knowledge of horticulture''.
As secretary, Mr Howat requested RHS affiliation, despite being ''unable to remit the usual fee'', and hoped this would prove no barrier.
An RHS official's note in red ink, signed W. W., says, ''Certainly not.''
Mr Howat concluded his letter by saying that, as the area was a large one, they ''would be grateful for gifts of bulbs and seeds''.
The RHS responded enthusiastically, sending bulbs and seeds donated by individuals and nurseries it had approached.
Horticulture expanded - at one point 88 varieties of sweet peas were grown - and the magnitude of the Ruhleben gardens can be seen in photographs sent in 1917 to the RHS in London.
These and the letters from the prisoners' club have been preserved in the RHS archive along with the elegant membership card: there might have been a war on but members of the Ruhleben Horticultural Society did things just as they would have at home.
Surprisingly, in the early days, there was no vegetable-growing.
One theory is that the prisoners could afford to buy food, have it sent from home or, as in the case of George Squire, have extra rations brought in when family visited.
Another is that, being close to Berlin, the camp was easily accessible to neutral observers and efforts were made, initially at least, to give adequate food to the men.
Later, that changed and the vegetables grown at Ruhleben were a vital supplement to basic rations.
In the early days, flowers - mainly chrysanthemums and dahlias - were sent to England to be sold to help support the prisoners' families.
In January 1917, permission was obtained from the Germans to rent part of the central area of the 4ha racecourse.
Developed as a market garden, in the first year an estimated 23,000 vegetable seedlings were raised in glass-covered frames that were then used to grow melons and cucumbers.
Later, a glasshouse was built so tomatoes could be grown.
It became a sophisticated operation. On December 24, 1917, the Mataura Ensign reported: ''The work of this extensive garden was done by a permanent paid staff of 12 men, and a daily gang of 60 to 70 volunteers. As the result of their labours, at the date of the flower show [in August that year], the committee reported that they had been growing 18,700 lettuces, 10,500 cabbages, 7300 cauliflowers, 7000 beetroots [sic], 2000 celery plants, 1800 leeks, and 500 tomato plants. They had already delivered and sold to the canteen 13,287 lettuces, 662 bundles of radishes, 227 lb [121kg] of kidney beans, 750 lb [358kg] of peas, and 1094 bundles of onions.''
The society's financial report recorded handsome profits from its garden. At a time when the people of Berlin were short of food, the amount grown at Ruhleben must have seemed incredible to outsiders who visited the show, including members of the Dutch legation.
Gardening was not easy, however.
The soil was poor and sandy and - ironically at a former racecourse - manure was difficult to obtain, so tea leaves were used instead.
Summer temperatures in Berlin could reach the low 30s with little rain, while in winter daytime temperatures hovered around zero, conditions that made gardening challenging.
Add insect pests like white butterflies and aphids, and one marvels at the men's tenacity.
Still, as the Mataura Ensign article concluded: ''The report of the committee of the Ruhleben Horticultural Society is another proof of the anodyne against life's worries that is to be found in gardening, that it can even brighten the horrible monotony of existence at Ruhleben.''
