100 years after its final inhabitants were released, Knockaloe P. O. W. camp is brought back to life by a new museum telling the story of the internees and their lives amidst the countryside of the Isle of Man.

They call it collateral damage, a term which trips off the tongue and neatly disguises the human cost of war. For not only are armies involved, but also those on the periphery who are unwittingly swept up in the maelstrom.

With the outbreak of war in 1914, an enemy alien act was brought into force in Britain, allowing for the detention of all males between 17 and 55. By the end of the war there would be some 100,000 internees throughout the country.

Knockaloe was created to house just some of those people, a prisoner of war camp which at its height contained more than 22,000 people. Set in the idyllic folds of the Manx hills, little today remains to show that it even existed. The original older farm is approached down a long walled drive. Only on closer inspection does one realise that these are not stone walls, but rather made of broken concrete footings – actually the only tangible remains of the huts which were once arrayed on the surrounding green fields, now placidly grazed by sheep.

Opened on 17th November, 1914, the camp was some 3 miles in circumference. The 22 acres were divided into 23 compounds, each with 4 camps of wooden huts. Barbed wire fences hemmed everyone in and there were 3000 guards: no one ever escaped from the island.

Only civilians were brought here to exist in a strange limbo. Some had lived in Britain so long that they didn’t even speak German. The manager of the Ritz hotel in London rubbed shoulders with an east end waiter whose cockney accent was so strong that it was announced that only someone born within the sound of Bow Bells could possibly speak like that! Germans made up the majority, then Austrians. There were 101 Turkish men, some whose graves remain in the little church on the other side of the road, and unbelievably some 144 other nationalities.

Such arrangements threw up strange bedfellows and many diversions. A one time German bodybuilder and gymnast, Josef Pilates had moved to London in 1912,  earning his living there as a boxer and circus performer before being declared an enemy alien. Having initially been kept at Lancaster Castle, he was then moved to the Isle of Man. Legend has it that Contrology was born as he watched a cat stretching – one hopes that it was a Manx cat –  and he developed exercises that needed minimal equipment to enhance the health of the internees. Of course this regime later became known as Pilates, beloved of yummy mummies the world over.

Many ways were devised to distract the men. There were thriving market gardens, various craft workshops, concerts and games such as football. The Germans proved adept rabbit keepers though I fear the glossy black rabbit in the museum photo was more likely destined for the pot than life as a pet. There was even a post office and camp newspapers; a railway bought in supplies. The only no-no was alcohol.

Whilst the years must have passed fairly tediously for the internees, the islanders benefitted from the 20,000 contracts issued to keep the camp fully supplied. The central store had a turnover of £12,000 a month and many a Manx family fortune has its origins at Knockaloe, helped by there been no income tax on the island at that stage. The camp ended up with a population greater than Douglas, the capital of the island.

The last internees left in October 1919 and in early 1920 the Department of Agriculture purchased the land and reclaimed it for agricultural purposes. Arable and pastoral experiments were carried out on the 337 acres until it was finally brought to an end in 2010. Now a new tenant treads in the shadowy footsteps of the past with grand plans for the rehabilitation of the old farm.

The farm has a long history which dates back to 1651 and it had sufficient acreage to justify its own steam threshing machine whose beautifully made chimney still stands today. In the mid 19th century it was worked by a fishing net maker whose namesake Corrin’s Tower stands proudly on the hills above.

Today it is possible to walk up the long drive and pass through the farm buildings. A steep ascent on sheep cropped pastures will bring you to the crest of a hill above the island’s coastal path and on a good day,  all embracing coastal views from the Calf of Man to Peel against a backdrop of molten silver seas. 

But wait! Turn around, look down, envisage the old compounds and the lives of their inhabitants. Once freed, most were deported and fresh challenges awaited: families were dispersed on the winds of the war around the world and often had to build new lives far from their homelands, a lost generation who are only now being fully recognized: ‘collateral damage’ does not even begin to describe what these people endured.

Notes

Fittingly marking 100 years since the closure of the camp, a new museum about the Knockaloe war years has just opened in the old schoolhouse opposite the entrance drive to the farm.  It once served as the camp courthouse. View a 1:500 model of the camp and visit the research room if seeking a family connection.

200 people died in the camp and were buried in St Patrick’s churchyard, next door to the museum. Most were later removed to Cannock Chase in England but in a far corner 6 Turkish graves and 2 Jewish ones remain in their foreign field.

Entrance is free. More information on the museum can be found here.