FOOTNOTES:[4]I have given the story of this tunnel at some length, not because it was in any way exceptional, but rather because it shows the labor and ingenuity involved in attempts to escape of this type, of which there were innumerable examples in Fort 9. A most wonderful tunnel, 80 yards long I believe, was made by the prisoners at Custrin.
[4]I have given the story of this tunnel at some length, not because it was in any way exceptional, but rather because it shows the labor and ingenuity involved in attempts to escape of this type, of which there were innumerable examples in Fort 9. A most wonderful tunnel, 80 yards long I believe, was made by the prisoners at Custrin.
[4]I have given the story of this tunnel at some length, not because it was in any way exceptional, but rather because it shows the labor and ingenuity involved in attempts to escape of this type, of which there were innumerable examples in Fort 9. A most wonderful tunnel, 80 yards long I believe, was made by the prisoners at Custrin.
Soon after the failure of our tunnel scheme several Englishmen, among whom were Gilliland, Unett, and Batty Smith, who had not been convicted by the Germans of any evil deeds during the last four or five months, were warned that they were going to be removed to Crefeld. Great preparations were made for escaping on the way, and Gaskell and de Goys seized the opportunity to try on the basket trick. Officers who have been prisoners for two or three years accumulate quite a considerable amount of luggage, and it was thought to be more than possible that the Germans would not trouble to search all of it as it left the fort, as it was quite certain to be searched carefully before it entered any new camp. Two large clothes-baskets were procured, of which the fastenings were so altered that they could be opened from the inside. Gaskell and de Goys packed themselves into these, and were carried by the orderlies into the parcel office in the fort with the rest of the heavy luggage. Unfortunately a week or two before this someone had been caught entering this room by means of a false key, and since then a sentry had been posted permanently outside the door. When Gaskell and de Goys, who had alreadyspent nearly four hours in an extremely cramped position, attempted to get out of their baskets to stretch their legs, the wickerwork creaked so much that the suspicion of the sentry outside the door was roused. He called an N.C.O., and the culprits were discovered and led, rather ignominiously, back to their rooms.
From Fort 9, where the Germans were so very suspicious, this method of escaping would need, I think, more than an average amount of luck to be successful, though from a normal prison camp it was to my knowledge successfully employed on several occasions.
The party under orders for another camp left the next day and without further incident, and some weeks later we heard that six or eight of them got out of the train in the neighborhood of Crefeld, and four of them—Gilliland, Briggs, and two others—crossed the Dutch frontier after three or four nights' march and after overcoming considerable difficulties and hardships. Gaskell and I applied personally to the General to be transferred to another camp, and I think most of the remaining Englishmen did the same, but our request was received with derision.
The two officers who escaped gave, I think, rather an unnecessarily harrowing description of the life at Fort 9; for if in what I have written I have given a true picture, I think it will be realized that the feeling of bitterness was, under the circumstances, except in particular instances and with certain individuals, remarkably small.
Attempts to escape, although thoroughly earnest and whole-hearted, were undertaken with a sort of childish exuberance, in which the comic element was seldom absentfor long. However, the feeling between the prisoners and their guard gradually grew worse, and several incidents intensified this bitterness to such an extent that towards the end of my time at Fort 9 it seemed scarcely possible that we could continue for much longer without bloodshed, which up to that time, by pure good fortune, had been avoided.
The Germans had been very irritated when we tore down and burnt in our stoves nearly all the woodwork of the fort, and the repeated attempts to escape got on their nerves. In addition to this, a store of blankets and bedding caught fire—or perhaps was set on fire by the prisoners, as the Germans believed. The place burnt for three days, and numerous fire-engines had to be sent out from Ingolstadt. Also a large pile of paper and boxes from our parcels, of considerable commercial value at that time in Germany, was deliberately set on fire by a squib manufactured for that purpose, although the pile was guarded by a sentry. These and other pinpricks undoubtedly led the Germans, as we learnt from one of the sentries, to issue most stringent orders to the guard to use their rifles against us whenever possible.
I have already recorded some of the occasions, mostly justifiable, when shots were fired at prisoners in the fort, but now there occurred an incident which roused the most bitter feelings amongst the prisoners.
We were allowed to walk on the broad path along the ramparts, but we were not allowed on the grass on the far side. Two Russian officers, newly arrived at the camp I believe and ignorant of this rule (for there were noboundary marks of any sort), lay on the grass one hot afternoon in the forbidden area. Without a moment's hesitation a sentry about 100 yards from them fired two deliberately aimed shots without giving them any warning whatever. Fortunately he missed them, though they presented an enormous target. But the fact that he was an exceedingly bad shot did not in any way detract from the damnableness of this wholly unjustifiable attempt at murder—for that is the way we looked at it.
About a month before this last event, Buckley, Medlicott, and Batty Smith finished their spell of "two months' solitary" and were welcomed back to the society and comparative freedom of Fort 9. The Germans said that they had only been under arrest (Stubenarrest) pending investigations, and indeed ever since the row which I have called the "Bojah" case the most searching inquiries had been carried out by the Germans.
Every one who had been in any way concerned or had been a spectator of the scene was summoned to Ingolstadt to be cross-questioned and his evidence taken down in writing. The Germans took the matter very seriously and did their utmost to establish a charge of organized mutiny against us. We, on the other hand, took the whole business as a joke and laid the blame for the affair on the fact that the Commandant lost his temper; and we brought, or could have brought, if the trial had been a fair one, unlimited evidence to prove that this was not only possible but an everyday occurrence at Fort 9.
At last the case was brought before a court-martial at Ingolstadt. As a first-hand account by one of the accusedof a German court-martial on prisoners-of-war may be of real interest, I have asked Buckley, who took a leading part, to give an account of it in his own words.
THE BOJAH CASE COURT-MARTIALBy Lieut. S. E. Buckley
On the day fixed for the court-martial a large party of Allied officers, consisting of witnesses and accused, were paraded and left the fort under a strong escort. The French contingent consisted of about eight officers, and the British, of Medlicott, Batty Smith, and myself.
We left the fort at about 8 a.m. and arrived at the Kommandantur, to which was also attached the military prison, at about 9.15. Here we were all shown into a room to await proceedings, and were shortly joined by poor old Bojah, the chief accused, and Kicq, both of whom had been kept in solitary confinement since the day of the row. They both looked awfully "low" and ill, especially Kicq, who had been short of food for some time owing to the confiscation of his parcels.
The trial started at 10 a.m., and consisted in the examination of Du Celié and Batty Smith. Unfortunately, only the officers whose cases were being examined at the time were allowed to be present, so that we were only able to judge of the temper of the court by the sentences imposed. Du Celié, a Frenchman, who had been charged with complicity and who conducted his own defense, was acquitted. As a matter of fact all he had done was to translate a letter written by Batty Smith to the Commandant, at the former's request, in which Batty Smith wasalleged to have slandered the Commandant. Batty Smith was awarded one and a half year's imprisonment, and appealed against his sentence.
Bojah himself and Kicq were next examined, and as far as I can remember they were still before the court when the luncheon interval arrived.
We had brought lunch with us, and we had made it as sumptuous as possible in order to impress the Germans with the lack of success of their submarine campaign. After lunch Medlicott and I had a little quiet amusement to ourselves. We had both made fairly elaborate preparations for an escape, should an opportunity arise during the proceedings. We had a large quantity of food in our pockets, and portions of civilian clothing, including mufti hats, concealed on our persons. During lunch the sentries had been withdrawn from the waiting-room and only one remained standing in the doorway.
The room was on the ground floor and looked out on to the courtyard of the military prison; it seemed but a simple matter to jump out of the window into the courtyard, whence, by turning a corner round the building, a clear exit could be made on to the main road. We got some French officers to start an animated conversation in the doorway in order to hide us from the sentry, and we had previously arranged with Kicq (who had returned to his cell during lunch and whose window overlooked the room in which we were collected) to give us the signal when all was clear.
At the given signal from Kicq, Medlicott jumped on to the window-sill, and was just about to drop into the courtyardbelow, when to my amazement I saw him scramble back into the room again and burst into fits of laughter. On looking out of the window I discovered the cause. There, leaning up against the wall, immediately below, was "Fritz," the canteen man from the fort—"Fritz," fat and forty, with an ugly leer on his face and brandishing a fearsome looking revolver in his hand. He had apparently been stationed round the corner, where Kicq could not see him, and had only just arrived below the window as Medlicott was about to jump out.
I might remark that this was the only occasion during my whole stay in Germany that I ever came across a really intelligently posted guard.
The examination of Bojah, Kicq, and later De Robiere, continued till late in the afternoon. Kicq received a sentence of two years, De Robiere one year, and Bojah nine months. As an instance of the gross injustice of the whole affair, during De Robiere's trial the public prosecutor stated that Kicq's action did not receive the support of his brother officers, either British or French. This, of course, was quite untrue, and De Robiere, who tried to protest, was immediately "sat upon" by the president of the court. De Robiere made frantic efforts to get a hearing, and failing in his attempt endeavored to waylay the public prosecutor on his way out of court. This brave functionary was unfortunately able to elude De Robiere's wrath by escaping from a side door.
Medlicott and I entered the court-room and stood side by side facing the officers who composed the court and who were seated on a raised platform at the far end ofthe room. The court consisted of about eight officers presided over by an old colonel covered with a multitude of parti-colored ribbons. Our two cases were taken together. We were accused of insulting the Commandant, escaping from arrest, disobedience to orders, and a few other minor offenses; Medlicott, in addition, was accused of having broken the ventilator over the door of his cell.
The proceedings opened in a lively manner by Medlicott, who was in his usual truculent mood, refusing to answer any questions. This immediately brought down the wrath of the president upon him, and he was told that if he persisted in his attitude he would be put in solitary confinement for contempt of court. As this didn't suit Medlicott's book at all (he was at the time planning a fresh escape), I took it upon myself to accuse the interpreter of having falsely interpreted what Medlicott had said. I explained that Medlicott wished to ask if he had the right to refuse to answer questions. This luckily satisfied everybody (except the interpreter, who didn't count).
After the Commandant andFeldwebelhad given their evidence, the former with some anger and more excitement, I got up and read a long speech in German in Medlicott's and my own defense. It is my greatest regret to-day that I have no copy of this classic document, which had been carefully prepared for me by an Alsatian officer. In it I "let myself go" and accused both the Commandant and theFeldwebelof cowardice and of shirking going to the front. In fact, I thoroughly enjoyed myself at their expense; so also, I think, did Medlicott, who turned round during my speech and grinned openly in the faces of theCommandant and theFeldwebel, who were sitting directly behind us. After I had read our defense, the public prosecutor summed up the case against us, and, if I remember rightly, asked that we might be sentenced to two years' solitary confinement each. I think he was rather annoyed at the time because we had been able to get hold of a German military law book in the fort in which I found that we had been accused under the wrong paragraph, and this mistake I had enlarged upon in our defense.
We were then marched out of court, and returned a few minutes later to hear the verdict of six weeks' solitary confinement for Medlicott and six and a half months for myself. Against these findings we both naturally appealed.
The whole affair had been unjust in the extreme. In the first place, the proceedings had been conducted in German, of which Medlicott understood next to nothing. We were allowed no defending lawyer; and, finally, our request to call witnesses in our defense was disallowed.
One day at the beginning of May 1917 an incident occurred in the fort which ultimately led to the removal of the English and Russian prisoners to other camps and to our escapeen route. I never saw or knew exactly how it started, as I was playing tennis in the court below. But it appears that some thirty or forty men of mixed nationalities were walking on the pathway which ran round the rampart above us, and everything seemed quite normal and peaceful, when a shot was heard from outside the fort. This was not such an unusual occurrence as to cause us to stop our tennis; but when a few seconds later we heard another shot, and there seemed to be considerable excitement among the other prisoners on the rampart, we left the tennis with one accord and ran up the steep stairway on to the rampart. The first thing I saw was a group of excited Frenchmen, some apparently furiously angry, but all laughing, gesticulating, and cursing in French and German in the direction of the outer courtyard of the fort, which was 30 or 40 feet below them and perhaps 70 yards away. Just as we arrived on the scene, they ducked behind the parapet and a bullet whistled over our heads. They jumped up like Jack-in-the-boxes, and the cursing broke out anew. I hada cautious look over the parapet, and saw the German guard with theFeldwebeldrawn up in the outer court. There seemed to be a good deal of excitement and shouting going on, but as they did not appear to be going to shoot again, the Frenchmen and I and several others who had crowded to the parapet, after shouting out to the Germans what we thought of them, moved away. Just at that moment Dessaux, a French artillery lieutenant, strolled up with his hands in his pockets and walked towards the parapet. At the same moment I caught sight of the sentry on the center "caponnière," who was less than 30 yards off and standing on the mound above us, making preparations to shoot. He had his hand on the bolt of his rifle, and glanced towards the courtyard below, whence it seemed he was being urged to fire. Then he came forward a few steps in a sort of crouching attitude and snapped a cartridge into his rifle. I was about 5 yards from Dessaux at the moment, and yelled at him to look out as the fellow ran forward. Dessaux looked up and, seeing the sentry putting up his rifle, crouched behind a traverse of the parapet as the fellow fired. The bullet crashed into a chimney-pot just behind. Dessaux sat there laughing. The sentry reloaded his rifle and glanced about him at a crowd of angry men, who were threatening and cursing him in four languages from every side. For a moment it looked as though the sentry would be rushed, when a German N.C.O. came running up the stairway, amid a hail of curses, and stopped the man from firing again. I remember one Russian pointing his finger and shrieking "Schwein!" "Schwein!" at the N.C.O. as he went by. Atthat moment a Frenchman, Commandant Collet, rushed up to me and said, "Did you see what happened?" I gave a brief account of it. "Come to the bureau," he said, "and we will tell them what we think of them;" and we ran down to the bureau together. In the bureau there was already a small crowd of excited Frenchmen in front of the barrier. The bureau was a small, narrow room with a barrier like a shop counter about one-half of the way down it. There was only one door to the room, and at the far end, on the clerks' and office side of the barrier, was a huge, heavily barred window, typical of all the windows in the fort. Collet pushed his way to the barrier through the other Frenchmen, and addressed the sergeant-clerk (a Saxon, and the only decent German in the place). At that moment theFeldwebelpushed his way in, white in the face and fingering his revolver; it was no place for him outside, and he was met by a storm of curses and threats. "If one of our officers is touched," said Collet, "if one is wounded, I swear to you that we will come immediately and kill every man in this bureau." Both the sergeant-clerk and theFeldwebelunderstood him, and he repeated it several times to make sure that they did. The sergeant-clerk tried to pacify him, but we pushed our way out of the bureau.
One result of this row was that the bars were taken out of the big window at the back of the bureau to provide a back means of escape for the bureau staff. A second important result was that, when we came to compare notes, we found we had a very good case against theFeldwebel, the charge being, "Instigating his men to murder."
There was a prisoner in the fort, an Alsatian, Stoll by name, who spoke German perfectly, German being his native language, though I doubt if he would allow that. At the time when the guard was being changed and the row started, he was sitting in our reading-room, of which the window was not more than 40 yards away from where theFeldwebelwas making a speech to the guard. The Alsatian overheard and was able to take down nearly every word of the speech, which was something as follows: "The prisoners you have to guard are criminals—you are to lose no opportunity of using your arms against them—be suspicious of everything they do—everything is an attempt to escape; therefore you must shoot to kill whenever possible."
At that moment theFeldwebelcaught sight of a group of Frenchmen standing on the parapet above, who were laughing among themselves (they swore afterwards that they were offering no provocation whatever). TheFeldwebelthought they were mocking the guard, and gave orders to the sentry in the courtyard to fire. The first shot the man fired over their heads without taking careful aim. After that, when the Frenchmen bobbed up again from behind the parapet, both sides cursed and shouted. Two more well-aimed shots followed; then theFeldwebel, seeing, I think, that there was small chance of hitting any one when there was a parapet to duck behind, shouted repeatedly to the man on the center "caponnière" to fire, with the result I have already described.
Fourteen of us made out accurate affidavits in German of what we had seen, and sent them in to the general incharge of the camp, demanding an inquiry, if there was such a thing as justice in Germany.
About a fortnight later, a rumor went round, which was confirmed after a few days, that all the Russian and English prisoners were to be moved to other camps. The news caused a great sensation, as most of us had considered that we were fixtures in Fort 9 till the end of the war, or till we could escape. Some of the Russians and all the English were most suspicious characters, and we could scarcely expect to be insufficiently guarded on our railway journey. Nevertheless, we all went into strict training. Two days before we went, we were informed that we were being sent to Zorndorf. Buckley had been a prisoner there before coming to Fort 9, and said that it was a most intolerable place, and that the change we were making was distinctly for the worse. Nothing would induce him to go back there, he said, without making an effort, however hopeless, to escapeen route. He and I joined forces, having no very definite plans. The train would take us directly away from the Swiss frontier. It was to our advantage, then, to get off the train as soon as possible; for, besides the extra distance every moment in the train put between us and the frontier, we had no maps of the country north of Ingolstadt. From Ingolstadt to the frontier was about 130 miles, or rather more, and for all that part I not only had excellent maps which had been sent out to me from home, but from other prisoners who had attempted to escape in that direction we had accurate and detailed knowledge of the whole route from Fort 9 to the frontier.
Buckley and I decided to get off the train at the first opportunity, and then, if the distance were not too great, to walk. If it was too far to walk, we should have to risk jumping or taking a train. All the details we had to leave to circumstances. We had this in our favor, that we both talked German fairly fluently and well enough, with luck, to pass for Germans if only a few words were needed. Against us was the fact that, as we were going officially by train, we had to be in almost full uniform. By dint of continually wearing grey flannels, the English had induced the Germans to believe that gray flannels was part of the English uniform. I struck a bargain with a Frenchman for a Tyrolese hat, and Buckley very ingeniously made himself a very German-looking hat out of an old straw hat and some cloth. For food, we both stuffed the pockets of our tunics full of chocolate and condensed foods. Besides this I carried a home-made haversack full of biscuits and raw bacon, and Buckley had a small dispatch-case in which he had mainly condensed food—oxo cubes, Horlick's malted milk, meat lozenges, etc. Thus equipped, and with Burberrys to cover our uniforms, we thought we should pass as Germans in the dark. Our outfit was far from being all that could be desired; but it is hard to see how we could have carried more food, or more suitable clothes, even if we had possessed them, without raising suspicion as we left the fort. We were not the only party which was making preparations to escape. Medlicott and Wilkin certainly had something on—I don't know what the scheme was, though I have a sort of idea they intended to try and get off near an aerodrome in the neighborhood ofBerlin. Gaskell and May had some ideas of a bolt on the way up from the station at the other end. Buckley and I also intended to bolt there, if we could not get off before. Then there were the Russians. There were several parties among them, good fellows too and reliable, but perfectly certain to make a mess of any scheme they went for. It was most important to see that they did not spoil any good chance that might come along by prematurely doing something absolutely mad. As a general rule, however, they placed great reliance on our superior judgment, and we thought we could keep them in hand. The general opinion was that we should never have the ghost of an opportunity, and when we saw our guard on the morning of May 22nd we almost gave up hope. Our heavy luggage had been sent on early. Wilkin, by the way, had an enormous wooden box with secret hiding-places all over it which were stuffed full of maps and tools for cutting iron bars, etc., all of which latter he had made and tempered himself. He was also an expert locksmith and had a large assortment of skeleton keys. As our names were called, we passed through the iron gate over the moat and stood in the outer courtyard, surrounded by a guard of fifteen efficient-looking Huns who were to escort us. There were only thirty of us going, so we considered fifteen guards and an officer rather excessive. One amusing incident happened before we marched off. One of the Frenchmen took a Russian's place, dressed in Russian uniform, and came out when the Russian's name was called. He was recognized, however, by the sergeant, who was no fool, and pushed back into the fort amid shoutsof laughter. After some delay the Russian was found and brought out.
We had a 7-mile walk to the station and, as always in Germany, a two hours' wait there. We spent those two hours infuriating the officer in charge of us by taking as little notice as possible of any orders that he gave us, and by talking or shouting to all the French, Russian, or English Tommies who passed us in working parties from the large soldier prisoner-of-war camp at Ingolstadt. At last we were rather tightly packed into quite decent second-class carriages. Six of the English got together in one carriage, and a sentry was put in with us. We edged up and gave him the corner seat next the corridor, and another sentry marched up and down the corridor outside. At the first review the situation seemed rather hopeless. The only chance was a large plate-glass window of the normal type, which we were compelled to keep closed. There was not much chance of our fellow going to sleep, with the sentry in the corridor continually looking in. German sentries always work in pairs like that, and usually one would report the other without hesitation. There was no door in the side of the carriage opposite to the corridor. Just before we started, the officer came in; he had been fussing round a great deal, and was obviously very anxious and nervous. Prisoners from Fort 9 had a bad reputation. He asked if we were comfortable. I answered yes for the party, and told him that we strongly objected to being shouted at, as he had shouted at us in the station. He apologized. It was only his way he said. We had disobeyed orders and he had got angry and then he alwaysshouted. He hoped that now we would have a comfortable quiet journey and no more trouble. I said he would not help matters anyhow by shouting—as it only made us laugh. He took this rebuke quite well and went off. I am afraid he had a good deal of trouble ahead of him, and I have no doubt he shouted at frequent intervals most of that journey.
As we got into Nüremberg, the first large town, about 70 miles north of Ingolstadt, it was beginning to get dark. There we waited for two hours or more.
Up to that time no incident of any interest had occurred, and the chance of escape had been very small. It was hardly worth it in the daylight, and we were now a devilish long way from the frontier. However, Buckley and I decided that if we got an opportunity any time during the night we would take it. After leaving Nüremberg we went slowly through a fairly dark night. It was not too dark to see that we were traveling through a well-wooded and rather hilly country, and our hopes began to rise. On leaving Nüremberg, Buckley and I took the two corner seats near the window. It had been decided in the carriage that as Buckley and I were best prepared, both in the matter of food and by the fact that we alone talked German, the others should give every assistance in their power to get us away. They were a good lot of fellows in that carriage, and the spirit of self-sacrifice which existed in Fort 9, where three nationalities were crowded together, was beyond anything which one could possibly have anticipated. Escaping came before everything, and was an excuse for any discomforts which one or two members might bringon the rest of the community. If you wished for help, almost any man in the fort would have helped you blindly, regardless of consequences.
Towards midnight, after we had shut our eyes for an hour to try and induce the sentry to go to sleep, I hit on a plan, which I believe now to have been the only possible solution of the problem. There were six of us and a sentry in a small corridor carriage, so that we were rather crowded; both racks were full of small baggage, and there was a fair litter on the floor. When the train next went slowly, and when I considered the moment had come, I was to give the word by saying to the sentry, in German of course, "Will you have some food? we are going to eat." Then followed five or ten minutes of tense excitement, when we tried to keep up a normal conversation but could think of nothing to say. Medlicott had the happy thought of giving me some medicine out of his case, which came in most useful; but all he could say was, "It's a snip, you'll do it for a certainty." Suddenly the train began to slow up. "Now?" I said to Buckley, and he nodded, so I leant across and said to the sentry, "Wir wollen essen; wollen Sie etwas nehmen?" Then every one in the carriage with one accord stood up and pulled their stuff off the racks. The sentry also stood up, but was almost completely hidden from the window by aconfused mass of men and bags. Buckley and I both stood up on our seats. I slipped the strap of my haversack over my shoulder—we both of us already had on our Burberrys—pushed down the window, put my leg over, and jumped into the night. I fell—not very heavily—on the wires at the side of the track, and lay still in the dark shadow. Three seconds later Buckley came flying out of the window, and seemed to take rather a heavy toss. The end of the train was not yet past me, and we knew there was a man with a rifle in the last carriage; so when Buckley came running along the track calling out to me, I caught him and pulled him into the ditch at the side. The train went by, and its tail lights vanished round a corner and apparently no one saw or heard us. Whether the sentry saw us get out, neither Buckley nor I ever knew, but anyhow I think Medlicott had him pretty well wedged up in the corner. There must have been an amusing scene in the carriage after we left, and I am ready to bet that the officer shouted a bit.[5]As soon as the train was out of sight, Buckley and I walked back down the trackfor a couple of hundred yards and cut across country in a southwest direction. There was no danger from any pursuit from the train. It was a darkish night, and there were pine forests in all directions. A hundred men chasing us would not have caught us. Besides, if they sent any of ourguard after us, more prisoners would escape. Under a convenient hedge we made the few changes which were necessary in our clothes, threw away our military caps, and got out our compasses and a very poor sketch map of Buckley's, which was to serve us as a guide for the next hundred kilometres and more, till we could use our proper maps.
We were, we reckoned, between 10 and 15 miles almost due north of Nüremberg. We would have to skirt this town—though we discussed the advisability of walking straight into Nüremberg and doing a short railway journey from there before any alarm or description of us could have reached the place. We had such a long way to go, and so little food considering the distance. But we could not bring ourselves to risk so much so soon after getting our liberty. "It is doubtful anyhow," we said, "whether it would be a judicious move; let's have a week's freedom at any rate before we take so great a risk." Considering the nature of the country, we thought we had an excellent chance of not being caught till our food ran out, if we took every precaution and had no bad luck. It was so extraordinarily pleasant to be free men once more, if only for a short time.
First Night.—This was entirely without incident; we marched by compass, mainly by tracks through pine forests, and frequently caught sight of the lights of Nüremberg on our left. Just before dawn we lay up in a pleasant coppice a hundred yards or so from the edge of a quiet country road. We took the precaution of sprinkling some pepper on our tracks where we entered the wood, and thus, to some extent guarded against stray dogs, wefelt pretty secure. The day seemed intolerably long from 4.30 a.m. till 9.30 p.m.—seventeen hours; the sun was very hot and there was very little shade, and we were impatient to get on. Our water-bottles too held insufficient water: we only had about one and a quarter pint between us, Buckley having a small flask and I a watertight tobacco tin. Throughout the journey I think it was the weariness of lying up for seventeen hours, rather than the fatigue of the six to seven hours' march at night, which wore out not only our nerves but our physical strength. At no time of any day could we be free from anxiety. The strain of passing through a village where a few lights still burnt, or crossing a bridge where we expected to be challenged at any moment, never worried me so much, under the friendly cover of night, as a cart passing or men talking near our hiding-place.
The general routine which we got into after about the third day out was as follows:—We went into our hiding-place at dawn or shortly after, that is to say, between 4.30 and 5.15, and after taking off our boots and putting on dry socks we both dropped asleep instantly. This may seem a dangerous thing to have done. One of us ought always to have been awake. But the risk we ran in this way was very small indeed, and the benefit we got from that first sound sleep, while we were still warm from walking, was so great that we deliberately took whatever risk there was: it was almost non-existent. Nothing ever seemed to stir in the countryside till after 6.30. During the rest of the day one of us always remained awake. After half an hour's sleep we would wake shivering, forthe mornings were very cold, and we were usually wet from the dew up to our waists. Then we had breakfast—the great moment of the day. At the beginning rations were pretty good, as I underestimated the time we should take by about four days. To begin with, I thought we should come within range of our maps on the third night, but we did not get on them till the fifth. Half a pound of chocolate, two small biscuits, a small slice of raw bacon, six oxo cubes and about ten tiny meat lozenges and a few Horlick's malted milk lozenges—this was the full ration for the day. We never had more than this, and very soon had to cut it down a good deal. We varied this diet with compressed raisins, cheese, or raw rice instead of the meat or chocolate. The oxo cubes and half the chocolate we almost always took during the night, dissolving the former in our water-flasks. Later on, when things began to look very serious from the food point of view, we helped things out with raw potatoes, but I will come to that later on. On the first day we took careful stock of our food, which we redistributed and packed; and then decided—
(1) that we had at a guess about 200 miles to walk;
(2) that we would make for the German Swiss and not the Austrian Swiss frontier;
(3) that we would walk with the utmost precaution and not take a train or try to jump a train till we were at the end of our tether;
(4) that by walking round Nüremberg we should be sure to hit a good road taking us south or southwest;
(5) that we would not start to walk before 9.30 in theopen country, or 9.45 if there were villages in the neighborhood (we broke this rule twice, and it nearly finished the expedition each time);
(6) that we would never walk through a village before 11 p.m. if we could help it;
(7) last, but not least, that we would always take the counsel of the more cautious of the two at any moment.
A very large percentage of the officers in the fort where we had been prisoners for the last six months had made attempts and had marched through Germany towards different frontiers for periods varying from a few hours to three or four weeks, so that we had a great quantity of accumulated experience to help us. For instance—contrary to what one would naturally suppose—it was safest and quickest to walk along railways—especially if you could answer with a word or two of German to any one who shouted to you. And there was the additional advantage that the chance of losing the way along a railway was very small.
Second Night.—We started from our hiding-place about 9.30 p.m. and made our way for a mile or two across country and through woods, going with quite unnecessary caution till we hit a decent road going south, soon after ten o'clock.
SKETCH-MAP SHOWING ROUTE OF ESCAPE FROM GERMANYSKETCH-MAP SHOWING ROUTE OF ESCAPE FROM GERMANY
After walking fast along this for an hour or so we were going up a steepish hill when Buckley complained of feeling very tired. This was a bad start, but after resting a few minutes he was strong enough to go on and gradually got better towards the end of the night. From thereonwards it was Buckley who was on the whole the stronger walker, at least he had most spare energy, which showed itself in those little extra exertions which mean so much—such as climbing a few yards down a river bank to get water for both, and being the first to suggest starting again after a rest. Of course we varied, and sometimes I and sometimes he was the stronger—and there is no doubt that between us we made much better progress than either one of us could have done alone. About 11.30 we got rather unexpectedly into a large village and had to walk boldly through the middle of it. There were one or two people about, but no one stopped or questioned us. A little later we crossed a railway which ran slightly south of west, and hesitated whether to take it on the chance of hitting a branch line leading south, but we decided to stick to the road. An hour or so later, however, the road itself turned almost due west, and we were forced to take a poor side road, which gradually developed into a track and then became more and more invisible till it lost itself and us in the heart of a pine forest. We then marched by compass, following rides which led in a south or southwest direction.
I afterwards found out by studying the map that there are no main roads or railways leading in a south or southwest direction through that bit of country. Time after time during the first five nights we were compelled to take side roads which led nowhere in particular, and we found ourselves tripping over hop-poles and wires, or in private property, or in the middle of forests. Towards 5 o'clock we were getting to the edge of this piece of forest,and lay up in a thick piece of undergrowth, and heather—a very pleasant spot, though we were rather short of water, not having found any in the forest. The day, a very hot one, passed without incident, though several carts and people passed within 25 yards of our hiding-place.
Third Night.—About 9 o'clock we were absolutely sick of lying still, and very thirsty. As the whole place seemed deserted we decided to start walking. We soon found a stream, and after quenching our thirst walked by compass and hit a main road leading slightly east of south about half a mile farther on. We found ourselves on the northeast side of a valley about a mile broad which had the appearance of a marsh or irrigation meadow covered with rank grass. On either side were hills covered with thick pine woods. The only thing to do was to go along the road, even if it did lead slightly east of south. I may say here that we badly miscalculated the distance the train had brought us north on my maps. We hoped during this third night to see on a sign-post the name of a town mentioned on the map which would tell us where we were, and for this purpose we had learnt by heart the names of all the towns and villages along the northern border of the map. It was all a question of time and food, and progress through pine forests by compass was very slow work. It was therefore essential to hit a main road going south as soon as possible, and we determined to ask our way. As we were filling our water-bottles from a rivulet at the side of the road a man and a boy came by on bicycles. I hailed them and asked what the name of the village was which we could see in the distance.They got off their bicycles and came towards us, and the man answered some name which I did not quite catch. Then he looked curiously at us and said: "Sie sind Ausländer" (You are foreigners). "No, we aren't," I said; "we are North Germans on a walking tour and have lost our way." "Sie sind Ausländer," he answered in a highly suspicious voice. Buckley said he did not care a damn what he thought, and I added that just because we did not speak his filthy Bavarian dialect he took us for foreigners, "Good evening"—and we walked off down the road. He stood looking after us, but we both had thick sticks and he could not have stopped us whatever he may have thought. We walked till we were out of sight round a bend and then, perforce, as the open valley was on our right, turned left-handed and northwards into the pine forest.
During the next hour and a half we made a huge left-handed circle, always with the fear upon us of being chased. Several times we thought we heard men and dogs after us, and in several different places we covered our tracks with pepper. It was a thoroughly unpleasant experience, but about 11.30 we felt sure we had thrown off any pursuers and determined to walk in the right direction. We should have done this before, only the valley lay right across our path. We struck a high road leading almost south, and soon afterwards found ourselves entering a village. It was a long, straggling village, and before we were half-way through dogs began to bark. We hurried on and got through without seeing any men. After a mile or two the road turned almost east, and wesuddenly found ourselves on the same old spot where we had spoken to the man. We kept on down the road and avoided the next village by an awful detour through thick pine woods and over very rough country, and then hitting the road again we crossed to the southwest side of the valley and made good progress along pathways and tracks in an almost southerly direction.
At every sign-post Buckley used to stand on my shoulders, and with the help of a match read out the names and distances whilst I took them down for comparison with my map in the day time. About 2 o'clock we cut at right angles into a main road going east and west. I insisted on taking this, arguing that we had already marched too much east and that our only chance of hitting a south-leading road lay in marching west till we hit one. After a short time the road turned south and we made excellent progress till 5 o'clock, when we passed through a village in which we dared not stop to examine the sign-post, and lay up on a wooded hill on the south of it. Only one incident frightened us a good deal. It was getting towards morning when we saw a man with a gun approaching us along the road. However, he passed with a gruff "Good morning," which we answered.
We found ourselves when morning came, in an almost ideal spot for "lying up," and could sit in safety at the edge of our coppice and see the country for miles to the east of us. I was lying there studying the map, hoping, in vain as it proved, to find on it some of the names which we had taken down from sign-posts, when it suddenly occurred to me that the valley at which we were lookingfitted in very well with one of the valleys on the northern edge of the map. After prolonged study we were unable to decide for certain—there were some annoying discrepancies; but "the wish is father to the thought," and we thought we were right. The next night's march would decide, anyhow. If we marched southwest through a pine forest for about an hour we would hit a road and a railway and a river all together, and then we would know where we were; and if we did not hit them, we should know we were still lost.
Fourth Night.—We started about 9.45, having learnt our lesson from the previous night, and after walking through a forest for over an hour, without coming across the desired road, river, and railway, we found ourselves falling over things like hop-poles with wires attached, and running up against private enclosures, and still in the middle of an almost trackless forest. Several times we had anxious moments with barking dogs. When we got clear of these my temper gave way and I sat down, being very tired, and cursed everything I could think of—forests, hop-poles, dogs, the roads, and Buckley. Buckley recovered himself first, telling me "not to be a fool," and we struggled on once more. From that night on we swore we would stick to the roads and have no more cross-country walking. I seem to remember that we zigzagged all over the place that night, always keeping to the roads, however, and walking fast. After midnight we came through several villages and started the dogs barking in each one. Once a man came out with a light and called after us; we said "good night" to him and pushed on,but it was most trying to the nerves. My God, how we loathed dogs! Later we came on a valley in which was a river 20 yards, or more broad. Our road passed through a village at a bridge-head, from which came sounds of revelry and lights were showing; so we turned off, and instantly got into the middle of a perfect network of hop-poles. Eventually we found a bridge lower down near an old mill. There was a road running parallel with the river on the far side, and something above it which on investigating turned out to be a railway. The question was, "Is this the valley we are looking for?" It soon turned out that it was not. The direction which the line took after we had followed it eastwards for several miles decided the question, and after going a mile out of our way back to the river to get water, we took a good road leading south. We were both very tired, and struggled on, with great difficulty and several rests, up a steep hill through the longest village I have ever seen. It seemed miles and miles, and dogs barked the whole way. The villages about here had drinking-troughs for horses at the street sides, which were a great boon to us.
Soon after dawn we got into an excellent hiding-place without further adventures. We were very exhausted, and were beginning to feel the lack of food. The cross-country marches of the last two nights had been a heavy tax on our strength. We were not yet on our maps, and the most moderate estimate of the distance from the Swiss frontier, when considered in relation to our food supply, made it necessary to cut down our ration very considerably from this time onwards. We were much worried duringthat day by shooting which went on in the wood round us. It is the German habit to go out shooting for the pot on Sundays, and many escaping prisoners had been recaught in this way. We had to lie consequently most of the day with our boots on, prepared to bolt at any moment. However, our hiding-place was good, and though men and carts passed close to us, I don't think we ran much risk of being found.
Fifth Night.—The first village we came to lay across a stream in the middle of a broad and marshy valley. It was about 11 o'clock, and as we approached we heard sounds of music, singing, and laughter coming from the village. It was Sunday night, and I suppose there was a dance on or something of the sort—it was too much for us at any rate, and as there seemed no way round owing to the river, we sat down in a clump of trees outside the village and waited. About 11.30 the sounds died down and just before 12 o'clock we got through the village without mishap, though we passed two or three people. We were making excellent progress along a good straight road which ran, for a wonder, in the right direction, when suddenly we heard a whistle from the woods on our left and ahead of us—the whistle was answered from our rear. We are fairly caught this time, we thought, but we walked steadily on. We had big sticks and the woods were thick at the sides of the road. There were more whistles from different sides, and then just as we were passing the spot where we had heard the first whistle a line of men came out of the woods in Indian file and made straight for us. There were ten or twelve of them trotting in a crouchingattitude. They passed a yard or two behind us, crossed the road, and disappeared into a corn field on the other side. "Boy scouts, begorra," said Buckley. "I wish we were well out of this," I said. "I hope to heaven the little devils won't make it part of the night operations to arrest every one coming down that road. If we have to knock out some of them, the villagers would murder us; and we should never shake them off, once they had an inkling of what we were; I would rather tackle men any day." Buckley agreed heartily, and we walked on fast. Several times afterwards those cursed whistles sounded, but we gradually left them behind.
At last we hit a railway, running east and west, of course. Our road here took a right-angle turn and ran beside the railway, and we were compelled to take a much worse road leading uphill among trees. The road gradually got worse. We soon recognized the symptoms. How often in the last few days had we followed roads which degenerated by slow degrees and ended by entangling us in hop-poles and private gardens in a forest! A quarter of an hour later this one proved itself to be no exception to the rule. Buckley was all for pushing on by compass through the forest. I absolutely refused, and after some argument we decided to retrace our steps to the railway and follow it westwards. This we did, and after walking several miles along the railway we took a good road which ran north and south, cutting the railway at right angles. After walking for an hour or more along this road we came to a milestone which, as usual, we inspected carefully. On it were the words:Gunzenhausen, 8 Kilometres.We could have shouted for joy. Gunzenhausen was marked on the northern edge of my map. We knew where we were.
It is impossible to describe what a difference this knowledge made to us. For the last three days we had been oppressed by the feeling that we were lost, that we were walking aimlessly, that we were continually on the wrong road and using up our food and strength in making detours. For the future we would know that every step we took would be one step nearer the frontier, and during the day we could lie and plan out our route for the following night—we could make fairly accurate calculations with regard to food—in fact, the whole problem of distance and food supplies was now clear and simple, and we had some chocolate to celebrate the occasion. At the next village we saw by a sign-post that the road to Gunzenhausen turned almost due west. I wished to go straight on southwards down a decent road, but Buckley wished to go for Gunzenhausen, the only name which we knew as yet. After a rather heated argument I gave way. Our tempers were rather irritable, but we were never angry with each other for more than five minutes, and as soon as we had recovered our tempers we used to apologize. We almost walked into a sentry in Gunzenhausen before we knew we were in the town. However, we retreated, and making a short detour lay up in a small oak wood about 3 miles south of the town, having accomplished that night a very good march. The place where we were hiding was by no means an ideal spot, as the undergrowth was not very thick. It was rather an anxious day, as we again heardshooting in the woods in the neighborhood, but no one disturbed us. After a careful study of the map we found that, by cutting across in a southwest direction about five miles of flat, low-lying country, we would hit a railway which went due south to Donnauwörth, about 60 miles away.