CHAPTER XXV UNSUCCESSFUL ATTEMPTS AT ESCAPE

During the long period of captivity which ensued all my faculties were concentrated on finding an opportunity to escape as quickly as possible from this unbearable camp.

The proceedings against Roger Casement, which began in April, showed clearly that the English would stick at nothing in their effort to find out those details in the preparations for the Irish revolution which, with all their extensive spy system, they had so far failed to discover. Sergeant Bailey, on whose fidelity Casement relied so thoroughly, had turned traitor in order to save his life.

In international law the English could make no charge against me or my crew. I knew that well. But I also knew just as well that international law would afford us no protection if it occurred to the English to do what they thought right. It would not have been the first time in this war that the English had ignored the most elemental provisions of international law; for it is well known that the English, when it is necessary, know only one law, English law. So long, therefore, as the proceedings against Casement lasted, I had to be prepared for any new surprise. But I did not wish to wait for this, for I had not the slightest wish to share Casement's probable fate and gratify the thirst for vengeance of the English mob by hanging on a gallows in the Tower.

Whenever I got a chance I surveyed the camp as unobtrusively as possible, climbed into the most distant lofts and cellars of the old ruined castle, and examined the great barbed-wire fence to find the weakest spot. In doing so I discovered that it would be, at the very least, extremely difficult to escape from this prison. Donington Hall was at that time the best-guarded and most secure prisoner-of-war camp in England. It deserved the name 'Castle' only when regarded from a distance, for the interior of Donington Hall was more like a tenement than the former residence of the Barons Hastings.

Since the escape of Lieut.-Commander Plüschow in July 1915, no prisoner of war had succeeded in getting away, although well organised attempts had not been wanting. The difficulties were increased by the fact that the possibility of further progress after leaving the camp had got much smaller during the last six months. The patrolling of the country and the watch kept on the main roads, railway stations, and docks, were now such that it was practically impossible to get out of the country. The exemption-certificates and the food-cards, without which one could get nothing to eat on the road, increased the difficulties of escape.

If I therefore attempted to discuss the question with my friends I always got the same answer: 'It's no use. You will get outside the barbed wire and no farther.' I could sympathise with the poor fellows' hopelessness. The many recent failures and the effect of the long captivity—most of them had been pining here for a year and a half—had impaired their will and brought them into a state of dull despondency.

I had not yet been infected with barbed-wire fever, and persevered in my efforts. The hope of getting free sooner or later from this prison, was the only thing which could save one from a mental breakdown.

Unfortunately, I was soon convinced that escape before the Casement trial was finished was out of the question. I had, indeed, found a few friends who were willing to make along with me their nth attempt at escape, and there were always a few stout fellows willing to help. But we had so many difficulties to contend with that week after week and month after month went by and we were no nearer the realisation of our hopes.

The greatest difficulty was this, that it was possible only with the greatest cunning and by bribing with large sums of English money to obtain the necessary tools. In contrast to all other English camps in which N.C.O.'s and men and civilians were interned—and in contrast to many officer camps in Germany also—tools of any sort were forbidden in English officer camps, even the tiniest hammer. Even pocket-knives which were larger than the index-finger were confiscated, and the owner was punished into the bargain. Ready money—again in contrast to other camps—was forbidden. In order to be able to pay for the necessaries of life we received metal tokens for which we gave receipts. This regulation and many others, made either by the War Office or the Camp Commandant, made the execution of our plans very difficult. At the same time these regulations were very flattering to us German officers, for they showed us continually how important we were. It was characteristic of the English attitude that much more extensive measures were taken to recapture one escaped German officer than were taken to recapture ten or twenty men. Every 'Hun officer' was looked upon as the devil himself. The best proof of this is to be found in the English press.

The second difficulty was to procure civilian clothes and false papers. This also was possible only by bribing English soldiers or labourers who happened to be working in the camp. I succeeded on one occasion in appropriating unnoticed a torn jacket and a small chisel belonging to a workman who was laying drain-pipes near my hut. I left in place of them a couple of silver coins, and then from the shelter of a shrub I saw the Englishman pick them up contentedly without bothering about the stolen articles—which I had safely buried in the meantime.

The excitement which my landing in Tralee Bay and the subsequent events in Ireland had caused throughout England, and, above all, the senseless clamour which the English press kept up for months afterwards, brought it about that I was regarded as a sort of 'Sherlock Holmes,' and was watched very closely in the camp. The sentries were told to keep a sharp eye on me, and as I was conspicuous on account of my height, all eyes were turned on me as soon as I appeared anywhere in the camp. Particularly during the first months of my captivity I often heard the sentries say, when I came near the barbed wire, 'Look out! Lieutenant Spindler is coming!' Sometimes they called me simply, 'the Casement fellow,' or 'the Casement captain.' Whenever English generals came down to inspect and were present at the parade, the Camp Commandant, before walking down the front, always pointed with his stick to the right flank where I stood, and told his superior officers, 'That tall naval officer is the fellow that brought Roger Casement to Ireland.' We gradually became so accustomed to this that the strange introduction seemed a necessary part of the parade. But apart from the fact that the Englishman's statement was false, this exhibition at last began to bore me. I therefore sent a request to the colonel to omit this introduction—which he did, when I pointed out that I did not wish to be regarded as a very fine specimen in a zoological garden.

With similar intermezzos, chief among which were my numerous written complaints, the days passed. From years of experience I knew that the utmost impudence was the only thing that impressed the English. The manner in which some of the English officers treated us prisoners enraged me so much that I gradually made a sort of hobby of plaguing the camp authorities with innumerable written complaints. For many of my friends also who did not know English I composed similar letters; and I nearly always had the satisfaction of noting their success, for the complaints were always justified.

The death sentence on Casement had already been carried out. Fortunately, the proceedings had revealed no material that could compromise me. Some of us had in the meantime succeeded in manufacturing (by means of an imprint in wax) a copy of the key to the so-called clock-tower. Under this, as we had been told by a clerk who had been sacked by the commandant, was a passage nearly a mile long. This led apparently to the village of Castle Donington and was probably intended by the Barons Hastings as a means of escape in case of siege.

I need hardly mention that we made the utmost efforts to find the entrance to this passage. Unfortunately, we could work only a very short time each day in the cellar of the clock-tower, for close to the stairs which led to it was the switchboard for the alarm siren and for the electric-light which was used both day and night. Nevertheless, with the help of a large pocket-knife we succeeded after about a fortnight's hard work in cutting a brick out of the wall undamaged. Once this beginning had been made the work of cutting out more bricks went quicker. Then we burrowed farther with the little chisel I had appropriated. The rubble thus produced was wrapped up in newspapers and carried away afterwards. A few officers, of course, always kept 'Cave' above, and whenever the signal agreed upon was given, the bricks were quickly replaced, and then no one could see from the stairs that anything had been going on here. Twice we were surprised. In our extremity all we could do was to flatten ourselves against the wall, and the sergeant who had been to the switchboard went away without noticing anything.

After several weeks' work we had cut a hole about a yard and a half deep in the wall. It looked as if we should never get through. To our joy we noticed however, that the wall, when tapped with the chisel, gave a much more hollow sound now. Did this mean that we were near the underground passage? With throbbing hearts we worked on. In three or four days we reckoned we ought to be through. Then the unexpected happened. Next morning, before we went down to the cellar, we noticed to our horror a couple of locksmiths, under the personal direction of the commandant, putting a lock and also a heavy padlock on the little tower door. Our plan was discovered. How, I have never been able to find out. All I know is that the English, in their zeal, made a stupid mistake, for if they had waited until the afternoon they would have caught us going down.

That disposed of the tunnel once and for all, for the only way of getting into the clock-tower was through the little tower door. For the next few weeks we dared do nothing, on account of the very strict watch which was kept. But as no one escaped during the next month the watchfulness of the guards gradually relaxed again; so we started on a new enterprise which promised success. Through the castle chapel, which was about twenty yards distant from the scene of our former labours there must surely be some way of getting to the tower. No sooner said than done. After the evening round, I and a friend got out of bed. At the head of our beds we put dark bundles, which in the bad light might be mistaken for our heads. Then we carefully felt our way along staircases and passages down to the chapel. Under a seat on one side of the altar we carefully loosened one of the broad floor-boards, and climbed down through the opening. At first we thought we could not find bottom, for I, the taller of the two, though hanging on to the plank only by my finger-tips, could feel nothing with my toes. We boldly struck a match, and then found that we were right over a shaft. So we tried our luck at another spot, and at last succeeded. The depth under the front portion of the chapel was so small that it was only by bending low that we could stand in it. With the help of matches we felt our way forward between the old stone coffins of the long-dead Barons Hastings. A heavy, mouldy smell, which constantly made us cough, pervaded the crypt. Occasionally it became so strong that we debated whether we should retreat, for the echo of our coughing resounded from all the walls and we feared that the night-patrol might discover us. It was so uncannily still that we could hear the ticking of our watches. Now and then something raced noiselessly over our feet in the dark. Rats were apparently plentiful here. Involuntarily I thought of a story which I had read as a child. Two rascals who in the dead of night had broken into the cellar of an old castle suddenly found themselves surrounded by coffins, from which the spirits of the departed rose just as the pair were about to steal the hoard of gold. They froze with fear, and were found next morning dead in the cellar. Although I don't believe in ghosts, I must confess that for a moment I felt uncomfortable. Inch by inch we advanced. The farther we went the more icy became the temperature. At last we arrived at a massive stone wall. We felt and examined the moist stones and the crumbling mortar in between. Nothing but basalt-blocks three feet square. Who could tell but that one of these stones covered the entrance to the tunnel? Surely we should be able to find the entrance.

We found nothing remarkable that night and made our way back to bed again, intending to renew our search next night. Night after night we repeated these excursions, and were once within a hair's breadth of being discovered. The 'Visiting Rounds' lit up the chapel inside just as we were about to cover up the opening with the plank. There we stood as stiff as mummies, with our faces turned to the entrance, carrying the whole weight of the heavy oak seat on our heads, for in our hurry we had not had time to replace it in its old position.

One of the soldiers actually turned the light on our faces for several seconds. Then the heavy door was slammed and next moment we heard the 'Tommies' continue their rounds. Once again luck had been on our side. Probably the men had just turned out of their bunks and were really half asleep as they stumbled through the camp. By the time they got to our beds we were under the clothes, and we snored loudly when the same lamp was held to our faces which had almost betrayed us a few minutes earlier.

After about a fortnight's work we were unwillingly forced to the conclusion that our hopes had been unfounded. There was not the slightest indication that this massive wall contained an entrance to a tunnel. Several determined attempts to loose one of the big stones had to be given up as hopeless for want of necessary tools.

In any case we should have had to desist, for a few days later one of our comrades, Naval-Lieutenant Prondczindsky, was caught while attempting to escape, and the guards again became very strict. It was a pity that Prondczindsky's plan did not succeed.[18] He tried to cross the barbed-wire entanglement, which was eight or nine yards deep, by means of a board which he had made.

He had spent nearly five months putting together a sort of box-like structure about seven yards long, eight inches wide, and four inches deep, made from the wood of cigar-boxes. Big pieces of timber were unobtainable in the camp, and he had calculated with mathematical precision the carrying capacity of his plank.

To increase our difficulties, the guard was now increased by twenty men in consequence of this attempt. As the winter was coming on our chances became still smaller, for now there was nothing in the fields to satisfy one's hunger in case of necessity. The daily camp rations were getting visibly smaller in consequence of the activity of the submarine war, so that it was difficult now to save up even a week's food. Even bribery helped us little, for it often happened that English soldiers, with whom we were for certain reasons on good terms, came to us, who had so little, and begged a piece of bread because their own rations had become so short.

I gave up one plan after another, but took pains all the time to give the impression that escape was the last thing I thought about. I was a regular attendant at the hospital, sometimes with justification, sometimes without. I wished to give the doctor the impression that in my impaired state of health it would be impossible for me to support the fatigues of an escape. My knowledge of English stood me in good stead in intercourse with the English officers and men who were now getting more and more trustful. If they chanced to ask me whether I ever thought of escaping I told them with a most innocent look that only a fool would think of making an attempt now that the conditions had become so difficult.

I had gradually worked out a code system by which I communicated with Germany in a round-about manner. This system of communicating secret news was so well conceived that the most alert English censor would have found nothing suspicious in the contents of my letters. Even if he did suspect something, all his arts and appliances, magnifying glasses, acid-baths, photographing, and ironing of the letters, would not help him a bit. The letters revealed nothing. To make assurance doubly sure, I had my letters in code signed by comrades who were not regarded by the English as suspicious; for I had reason to believe that all my letters were stopped. In this manner I succeeded in communicating with friends in Germany, asking them for things necessary for the escape, English money, tools (the parts of which were sent separately), and so forth. The letters, which arrived safely at their destination, were understood and the various commissions executed. For obvious reasons I do not intend to disclose how the articles were sent. Unfortunately, very few of them reached me, for when they began to arrive at the camp I had already escaped.

I had read in the newspaper that some of my brave crew had escaped from their camp and been recaptured. As I learned later, they had conceived the plan (a hopeless one) of setting me free and then trying to get out of the country. Shortly afterwards I was taken to London to appear before the Prize Court. I got such short notice that I had no time to provide myself with civilian clothes with the object of escaping during the long journey or when we were in London. Without money and in uniform I could not make the attempt. Immediately after my return to camp I addressed a long letter to the Prize Court, in which I requested that the previous decision should be revised, and that the money taken from me and my crew should be restored to us.

The Swiss Embassy was kind enough to forward this letter (and many others) to the proper quarter, although the American Embassy, which was still 'neutral' at that time, had refused to transmit it. In the next chapter I shall have something to say about the effect of these letters.

It would, of course, have been a mistake to concentrate on any one plan which did not absolutely guarantee success. I therefore looked round for other methods of escaping from the camp. With the help of a friend I contrived a jumping pole (made of broom-handles) with which I intended to jump over the barbed-wire fence. Unfortunately, the pole broke in two on its first 'trial voyage.' We were not discouraged, and we made another pole. And when this broke we made more. But all these attempts failed because it was impossible to smuggle a couple of good-sized poles into the camp. To the same fact, also, was due the failure of another scheme to reach a tree outside the fence from one inside by means of a long pole. This would have required a piece of wood or rope at least twelve yards long, for all the lower boughs, especially those near the fence, had been carefully cut off.

About the time when I was busy with these plans a small motor-car used to come nearly every day into camp. With a little address and the help of the chauffeur it would have been possible to hide in it, for it was easy to distract the attention of the sentry told off to guard it. The chauffeur was, as I soon discovered, very accessible. I covenanted with him to take me out of the camp for £500.

From my own resources and by borrowing from friends who had large sums of English money, I could raise about half of this amount. The remainder was to be paid after the war, and satisfactory guarantees were given. The payment was to be made by one of my friends as soon as the man proved that I was safely out of the camp. The day and the hour were agreed upon, and everything appeared to be in order. Very few knew about my plan, for I did not want to have it wrecked by incautious gossip.

On the appointed evening I stood in the yard near the garage, provided with all necessaries, and waited with bated breath for my deliverer. Half an hour—an hour—passed. I was beginning to wonder if I had been deceived, when suddenly I heard the well-known sound of the horn in the distance. A few moments later the headlights lit up the long passage that led to the yard. As the car passed the entrance doors I noticed two English officers sitting in it. Had the chauffeur led me into a trap?

I carefully crept along the wall into the darkest corner of the garage. 'Well, now, let's get to work,' I heard one of the officers say. Then I saw him look round the shed as if looking for something. My heart beat faster. Fortunately, the Englishman's remark had no reference to me, for the two of them walked away in the direction of the commandant's office. The chauffeur began to work on the car, and swore when he found he had run out of petrol, whereupon the sentry offered to get him some. This was contrary to his orders, for he was forbidden to leave the motor. I then showed myself and was about to get into my hiding place. But the chauffeur prevented me, declaring that he was risking ten years' imprisonment by this joke (as he called it), and that he must therefore have £500 in cash on the spot, and another £500 later.

This was a low trick. It was impossible for me to pay £500 at once, and I could not guarantee to pay the second instalment, for it was beyond my means. As discussion did not help matters and I could hear the footsteps of the sentry returning with the petrol, I had, with a heavy heart, to give up my plan.

CHAPTER XXVI A BOLDER PLAN

At last I got tired of these continual failures, and began to see that these methods would never succeed. If I was going to escape it must be by some method that no one had yet thought of trying. Only in this way, aided by unlimited bluff, should I succeed. I was thinking not only of the actual escape from the camp, but of the possibility of getting out of the country. Escapes from all the camps had been made by the dozen, but only one in a hundred was actually successful. The worst of it was that that big sheet of water, the North Sea, lay between England and Germany! How much easier it was for English officers in Germany, who, in two days' march, were in neutral territory, Holland, and consequently in safety!

All who had so far attempted to escape from English camps had started out with the idea of finding a ship or a boat that would take them to Germany. The consequence was, that the coast, and particularly the ports, were closely watched, especially when it was known that prisoners had broken out of camp. If I were to succeed, then, I must find some other way. After weeks of anxious thought I hit upon a method that seemed to offer chances of success. I would go by air!

The plan sounds very daring at first. I was therefore not very angry with my friends who declared me mad when I broached my scheme. All the same I was so persevering that I at last found a few friends who declared themselves willing to help me.

I had thought long and carefully about the problem of getting out of the camp, and had found a possible solution. The great difficulty was to find (1) an aerodrome in easy distance of Donington Hall, and (2) a trained flying-man, for I had never sat in an aeroplane.

From a map in Meyer's Encyclopædia I reckoned that the distance from Nottingham (in the neighbourhood of Donington) to Ostend would be roughly 300 kilometres by air route. With a modern type of machine, therefore, one ought to reach Ostend in about two hours, if all went smoothly. If the machine which I intended to annex had not enough petrol in the tank we should have to come down on the sea and trust to chance to find a rescuer. But I was certain that petrol could be found somewhere or other in the aerodrome. On my journey to London I had noticed that the flying ground at Hendon, at that time the largest in England, was practically unguarded. What was the use of detailing a large number of sentries, seeing that no one had ever yet thought of stealing an aeroplane!

I became so enthusiastic at the idea of being free much sooner than I had expected and of taking home an up-to-date aeroplane that some nights I never slept a wink.

Of the flying men in camp none was suitable. They had all been captured early in the war and had never handled a modern machine. But as new prisoners were constantly arriving I was confident that sooner or later a flying man would turn up. There could be no doubt there was a flying ground somewhere in the neighbourhood of Donington, for almost every day aeroplanes flew over the camp in a northerly direction. They always landed a long way off in one certain direction. Watch in hand, we observed their flight every day, noting when and where they landed, and were, in this manner, able to estimate approximately the distance of the flying ground. I used the same method in studying the neighbouring railway system. By observing the speed of the locomotives and by noting the time that elapsed before the first stop, we were enabled roughly to locate the neighbouring railway stations. We made our observations independently, and fixed in this manner also the direction of trains which we could hear but not see. Naval-Engineer Lieut. Laurer was very helpful to me in preparing two large maps by the aid of our observations and of a tiny map which we had discovered in an old novel. One of them represented the immediate surroundings of Donington; the other represented the southern portion of England and a strip of the North Sea as far as Ostend.

From new prisoners who arrived at the camp via Nottingham I learned that an aerodrome was being built near the railway about eight miles from the camp. Two hangars were finished and a third was in course of construction. All our information pointed to the conclusion that a big biplane was already stationed there.

This was extraordinarily favourable. The smaller the aerodrome, the smaller would be the guard. One night-watchman would certainly be the only guard here. Even if there were two sentries we should have no difficulty in overpowering and tying them up and then flying away before the alarm was given.

Two labourers who were building a small shed in the camp I steadily plied with cigarettes till they got quite talkative. They, too, had noticed the aeroplanes which flew daily over the camp. In the hope of getting detailed information from them, I tried a bluff which completely took them in. I asked them what had happened to the pilot who had passed over the camp two days before and had then crashed at X. At the same time I pointed in a direction in which I knew there was certainly no aerodrome. The story of the crash was, of course, an invention of my own. As I had expected, they shook their heads incredulously and declared emphatically that no pilot had crashed yet. Besides, they added, there was no flying ground in that direction; the two nearest aerodromes were at L. and U. In confirmation of their statements they described exactly the direction and distance. When I contradicted them—went so far as to suggest laughingly that they did not know the geography of their own country—they offered to prove their statements by means of a map. And next day they actually brought a beautiful big cycling map. After acknowledging my mistake I quietly dropped the map in my pocket during the course of the conversation which ensued. The trick had worked splendidly. I presented them with a number of cigars and then disappeared with my map.

The camp was now too small to accommodate the ever-increasing number of prisoners. A number of huts were therefore built on what had hitherto been the recreation-ground. It therefore became necessary to enlarge the recreation ground. The work had been begun during the winter and was finished in the early spring. The new ground, which adjoined the old one, was also surrounded by a wire entanglement and several sentry-boxes. It was to be opened only during the day time and to be closed at sunset. At the far end we were allowed to make two tennis-courts. The tools had to be handed in every evening.

In order to keep up the rôle of the 'sick man,' I took no part in any sort of sport or physical exercises. But I followed with the keenest interest the progress of the work on the tennis-courts. My plan was now fixed. I asked my friends who were looking after the tennis-courts to make a gully, on the side farthest from the camp, for the rain-water to drain off. This gully was to be gradually and unobtrusively widened and deepened so that two men could lie in it. The construction of this drain was, after some hesitation, sanctioned by the commandant, and was supervised by him and his officers. In this way the sentries got the impression that there was no objection on the commandant's part to the drain, and they suspected nothing when the prisoners worked at it again a few weeks later. This time, of course, without the colonel's sanction. As no spades or shovels were available preserve-tins cut and flattened out were used instead. Progress with these tools was, of course, very slow.

Fate decreed that at this time a young flying-man, Flight-Lieutenant Winkelmann, was brought to the camp. He had been shot down a short time before on the Western front, and had all sorts of interesting news to tell us. So many new officers were arriving now at the camp, some of them during the night, that it was often weeks after their arrival that one got to know them. This happened here. One day W. spoke to me. We introduced ourselves, and W. asked me without any circumlocution if it was true that I was thinking of bolting. When he noticed my surprise he added in explanation that he was a pilot and was extremely anxious to join me. As a trained fighting pilot, but with no knowledge of English to help him in a journey by road, he regarded my plan of escaping by aeroplane as the only one possible for him.

He knew all the modern machines, he said, and had often flown captured English aeroplanes behind the lines. I, on the other hand, knew the country and the people, and could speak the language. In this way we should be mutually complementary!

No sooner said than done. With more enthusiasm than ever I now worked in conjunction with W. in making all the necessary preparations.

I knew that several other groups of officers were also planning to escape. But I considered my scheme the most hopeful and was therefore anxious to anticipate the others, so that they should not wreck my chances.

In order the better to lull the suspicions of the English, I founded a theatre and undertook the duties of director.

As manager of this fine company I was in daily contact with the camp authorities, for I had to obtain their approval for every trifling arrangement. But the English appeared to be still suspicious, for one evening, after the orderly officer with his escort had passed through the hut and counted all the inmates, I heard him expressly ask the sentry on the door, 'Is Lieutenant Spindler there also?'

This business made me anxious, especially as it was repeated for a few nights. In about four weeks' time the drain ought to be big enough to conceal us. Luckily the big opening was somewhat hidden by tall grass which grew along the edge.

It was now high time to disarm the suspicions of the English. I therefore reported sick, and kept my bed. 'Nervous breakdown' was the name of my malady. Each time before the doctor came I did a quarter of an hour's physical jerks and smoked strong cigars. My pulse was so bad after this that the doctor sometimes looked at me with a very grave air. He did not know what to make of it, as I looked outwardly fairly healthy. In order to deceive him further I once had him fetched in haste. My friends, Naval Reserve Lieutenants Elson and Filter, who helped me in many other details, told him that I had got up and had suddenly collapsed in a dead faint. I was really feeling rather bad that day and had been smoking heavily. The doctor, therefore, found me lying in bed like a log, felt my pulse for a long time, and prescribed milk, biscuits, and all sorts of medicine.

From that day forward he was really satisfied that I was ill, and I noticed to my joy that the orderly officer's questions now ceased. When the evening count was taking place I lay with my head completely hidden under the clothes, as if I could not stand the glare of the flashlight. For the first few days the sentry would lift the blanket as he went past, in order to see my face. But as I was always there next morning they soon gave this up and were satisfied with the fact that there was some indistinct bundle under my blankets which must certainly be identical with Lieutenant Spindler, who was suffering from nervous breakdown. My bed stood in the middle of the hut with its head to the door. I always kept the head of the bed covered with a couple of towels, so that the sergeant, whose duty it was to count the sick men during the morning parade, could not see me from the door. At first he used to come to my bed and satisfy himself that I was there. He gave this up after a time, and simply called out, 'Are you there, Lieut. Spindler?' whereupon I would raise one hand and he would trot off quite satisfied.

Everything was going splendidly. Occasionally I got up and walked about for a couple of hours, leaning on a stick like a helpless old man, took an interest in the theatre, and went for treatment to the English dentist who was, at the same time, an officer of the guard. The day was now drawing near, and I had to take a certain number of officers into my confidence. The best for my purpose were Lieut.-Commander von Spiegel (the author of 'U 202'), who had recently been captured, and the Turkish commander, Hakki, who helped me in my attempt in the most faithful manner and by every means in their power. A tennis tournament, which was to last several days, was held about this time, and helped us considerably. As 'sportsmen,' the English were much interested in it and took it as a matter of course that the court was rolled every morning and evening. The team that drew the big roller consisted of ten or twelve men, but Spiegel saw to it that at least twenty men took a hand and pushed the roller up and down with much shouting. The rolling usually lasted till the time of closing the ground. Then the roller was left behind and the noisy team trooped off to the inner portion of the camp. The sentries slowly got so accustomed to this game that they never troubled to look when the roller team gave their Indians' war-whoop. I occasionally lent a hand also in the work of rolling the court, so that my presence later on should excite no suspicion. Some of the largest wicker chairs, with the wickerwork carried right down to the ground, on which the spectators sat during the day, were left during the night on the court. This also excited no suspicion.

So far all was well. Our hour had come. If our calculations were correct and everything went smoothly, we ought to reach the flying ground in four to six hours. We were provided with all necessaries for a twenty-four hours' march. The food we had saved up in spite of the ever-dwindling ration. We also had maps, English money, and a couple of strong pocket-knives. Unfortunately, we had no wire-cutters. In spite of the risk, therefore, we had to try to get through the barbed-wire entanglement by means of our hands. A pair of stout gloves, which afterwards proved more a hindrance than a help, were intended to protect us somewhat against cuts and scratches. In case we should have to enter a large aerodrome by daylight (which would be the case if we did not find the little flying ground close to the railway line), we got together or manufactured complete flyingmen's uniforms—airmen's helmets made of scraps of leather and cloth, and proper big flying-goggles made of window-glasses (which we had cut into shape under water) mounted in chamois leather. The glass was from a pane which we had broken for this purpose in the commandant's office.

In this costume, with our puttees, our leather waistcoats, and our goggles, I was convinced we could march on to any big flying-ground and enter any shed where no work was being done. The more we bluffed, the more likely we were to succeed. At an aerodrome of forty to fifty hangars one man often does not know another. If therefore an engine in a hangar were started up (W. had given me the necessary instruction) nobody would take any notice, especially if we showed enough self-confidence. In my opinion the greatest difficulty and danger would be in approaching the German coast, when we should certainly be fired upon. So long as we were flying over England we should be safe. Wind and weather were extremely favourable. We therefore determined to leave the inhospitable spot on Wednesday the 12th July, 1917. It was only then that I thought seriously about the dangers attendant on an attempt at escape. When Prondczinsky escaped, the commandant court-martialled a sentry who, out of kindness of heart, had failed to fire at once at the fugitive. But these were only passing thoughts. The thought that next morning we might be on German soil silenced all other considerations. Our faithful helpers believed so confidently in the success of our venture that they gave us letters for home.

Next morning, when play in the tournament was continued, a couple of large wicker chairs were carried on to the tennis ground, and under the seats of these our kits were fastened. The chairs were placed thirty or forty yards from the drain, and during the whole of the day were occupied or kept under observation by the initiated, so that no unauthorised person should knock them over and reveal the whole secret. Lieut. Böttcher of the Marine Artillery, who was of the same height and had the same coloured hair as I, made the most frantic efforts all day to change the parting of his hair from the left side to the right, the side on which I wore it. He had very kindly offered to occupy my bed during the evening count, in order to make the English think I was still there. This experiment, as we afterwards discovered, succeeded splendidly. Lying in my bed he would pull up the clothes so that only the back of his head could be seen. Then, as soon as the orderly officer had passed, he would hastily regain his own room on the first floor by a roundabout way, and would be lying there in his own bed before the orderly officer arrived.

In order that he should pass muster during the morning count also we had arranged that he should be sitting at my table with his back to the door, shaving, before the sergeant came. If he lathered his face well and turned round only very slightly when the sergeant called my name, the dodge would work all right. W. appointed a proxy in the same way. Two other men saw that we were entered three times a day in the sick list. In payment for this service they shared our rations between them! We also made arrangements for heading off the doctor in case he should appear in the hut and ask for his patients. We reckoned that by these arrangements we should gain half a day, at the most a whole day, before our flight was discovered. But, as we learned later, our comrades played their parts so well that the English did not know of our escape till four days after. And then it was only through an unlucky accident, for which our friends were not responsible.

During the day von Spiegel organised for the evening a regular series of 'feint attacks,' which were absolutely necessary if our attempt was to succeed. For each one of the several sentries who guarded the camp, a few officers and men were told off. Their whole duty was, during the time the court was being rolled, to attract the attention of the Tommies in their neighbourhood, so that the latter should forget their duties for a few minutes. Special measures had to be taken in order to distract the attention of the guards nearest to us. In one corner a couple of officers, after an exchange of words, were to start fighting; at another corner an officer was to give a lecture, supplemented by pictures; at the third corner orderlies were to give an acrobatic display, etc. To crown all, our bandmaster arranged to give an open-air concert in the evening, which, if our absence had not been discovered before tattoo, was to end up with the tune, 'Good-bye, friends; to horse! to horse!'

CHAPTER XXVII THE ESCAPE

When all these details had been arranged I went just before the evening muster—the last which I hoped to attend here—to the commandant and submitted for his approval a sketch which I had made for a theatre curtain. He was quite pleased with it and also with my assurance that my health was now so much improved that I hoped shortly to open our theatre. The good man really believed that the theatre was my only interest. How was he to know that I intended to give that same evening my first and only performance, and that I was wearing the costume for the part under my uniform at that very moment?

When the guard officers and N.C.O.'s appeared for the evening count I was convinced that everything would go according to plan. Careful observation extending over several weeks had taught us in what order the various officers, N.C.O.'s, and sentries performed their duties and relieved one another. I had chosen this particular day because the officers whose turn it was to take the count and do the rounds were somewhat less strict than their comrades. Likewise we had calculated that the sentry most dangerous to us, perched as he was in his crow's nest only ten yards from the drain, would be relieved by an old soldier (who was short-sighted and wore glasses) just before the time we had fixed on for disappearing into the hole.

The count passed quickly and without incident. The English appeared to suspect nothing, and as soon as the 'parade' (as they called the count) was over, the officers of the guard prepared to go in to mess. As the dentist was one of them, I hurried after him and asked him if it would be convenient for me to come to him next day. I pretended that a back tooth was still paining me. In his usual kind way he tried to comfort me, explaining that he would be away for two or three days, as he was going on leave that evening, but that he would willingly help me on the following Monday! He disappeared through the gate of the compound and I raced off in the opposite direction—to the tennis-court, where I was anxiously expected. I had already taken leave of my friends before the evening muster. The whole camp was feverishly excited; for owing to the large number who were actively helping us, our secret had unavoidably become known to others who were taking no active part.

The rolling had already begun, accompanied by the usual war-whoops, W. standing with several others on the cross-bar of the roller. I took a place at one of the shafts. To the left of us was the sentry with the glasses craning his neck to see the strange book which the officers sitting on the grass under his crow's nest were studying. Von Spiegel had had the brilliant idea of cutting out all sorts of coloured pictures from magazines and making them up into a gigantic scrapbook. He was sitting now at the end of the court with his big book explaining to my friends Filter and Elson the incongruity of the pictures. All three were laughing merrily, and the sentry, who understood not a word, was much interested. A glance round at the other sentries satisfied me that the other 'feint attacks' were drawing the enemy. The acrobats especially appeared to be holding the attention of the sentries. Now was the time to act. I made a sign to W. We pushed the roller once more forward, and then back close to the drain. There was a sudden bump, and my friend lay in the hole. None of the sentries had noticed anything.

One more turn up and down with the roller and I jumped in face downwards. W.'s head came in forcible contact with my heels, but I could not avoid it. Fortunately, his loud 'Auw!' was lost in the yells of the roller-team. With strained attention we waited to see if anything happened.

Everything seemed to be going on as usual. For about ten minutes more we heard the roller. Then the noise died down—the roller-team was retiring. Now and again we heard a loud laugh or a burst of applause. The humorous acrobats were apparently still busy. We heard von Spiegel say, 'Did you ever see anything so silly?' Then he closed his book with a bang, and we knew that the three of them were leaving the tennis-court. As they passed our trench they whispered, 'All clear!' and then, 'Bon voyage!' Then it gradually became quiet. The footsteps of the passers-by became fewer and fewer, till they finally ceased. It was time to close the gates of the recreation ground. Soon we heard the shrill whistle of the sergeant responsible for the closing of the gates. By the well-known blast we recognised that it was 'our' man. We need have no worries on that account. Now, for the first time, I was able to take notice of the trench into which we had wedged ourselves and in which we concealed ourselves only by the utmost efforts. For it was neither broad enough nor long enough for two big men like us to stretch ourselves in it. By Jove! but it was a dirty hole! And not nearly so comfortable as it looked when seen from above! The clayey bottom was covered with a thin layer of water which we had had no opportunity of draining away. This was very unfortunate, for we could reckon on having to spend three or four hours here before venturing into the open. Most unpleasant of all were the numerous black beetles, ants, and other little animals which swarmed out of every hole and crawled boldly through our hair, over our faces, and down the backs of our necks, while we dared not make the slightest move to prevent them lest the sentry a few yards away should hear us. Now that the tennis-court was empty, it was so quiet that the slightest move could be heard. If I could only have turned over on the other side! My bones were getting so horribly stiff in this uncomfortable position. The situation even after a quarter of an hour became so damnable that neither W. nor I could suppress an occasional curse or groan. But it was no good: we had to bow to the inevitable.

Slowly the time passed. The minutes seemed hours. Eagerly we listened for the tower-clock to strike. Never in all my life has time appeared to go so slow.

'Listen!' whispered W. suddenly. We could hear footsteps approaching. The whole field seemed to echo with them. My heart beat faster and faster. Who could it be? The steps of the sentry in his crow's nest stopped. Then we heard him talking to some one.

Had they noticed something? Instinctively, as if to conceal ourselves, we buried our faces so deep in the muddy soil that we could hardly breathe.

A regular ostrich-trick! All the same, it comforted us somewhat. In a few minutes the voices ceased and the steps retreated again. We gave a sigh of relief. But next moment we had another fright. Something was rustling in the grass near us. From time to time the noise stopped. We both had the feeling that some one was stealing upon us. Perhaps it was one of the men who had just been speaking to the sentry? The rustling noise came nearer and nearer.

As if to torture me to the utmost, a black beetle at this moment crawled over my face and walked into my left ear. I suffered agonies. What was I to do? All my limbs began to tremble. The wretched beast was burrowing further. Damnation! I could stand it no longer. W. was anxiously pressing his head against my feet to keep me from moving. But it was no use. I had to turn round slightly in order to shake the pestilent beetle out of my ear. As I did so I saw something that almost made me burst out laughing. Instead of the soldier's head which I expected to see, I saw a fine buck rabbit looking down at us full of curiosity. Another false alarm.

In the course of the evening many more of these ill-mannered quadrupeds came to our hiding-place and jumped over us or stared at us with astonishment. Some of them scooted away when they caught sight of us. Perhaps they, too, had been infected with the Daily Mail disease and saw a terrible danger in the 'Hun officers.'

Very slowly the time passed. And it would not get dark, much as we longed for nightfall. In the distance we heard the first sounds of the concert. The silence was not so marked now, and we could move very slightly without danger. Every tiny fraction of an inch that we altered our position was a blessing. In the wet, clayey soil of the drain our limbs had long become stiff and unmovable. Partly in order to avoid attracting the sentry's attention by whispering, partly in order to pass the time, we carried on a conversation in Morse code, making the signs by gently tapping with our lingers on the side of the trench.

Our conversation was going on nicely when we were suddenly interrupted by the shriek of the camp siren. Involuntarily we started. Was it an alarm signal? As we had put our watches in our inside coats we could not tell what time it was. We strained our ears to hear if anything was happening. We had not long to wait, for the band immediately struck up the final march, 'Good-bye, friends! To horse! to horse!' A load fell from our minds.

The evening muster was now due, and if this also went off all right a small red lamp was to be shown in the lop middle window of the castle. It was now slowly becoming twilight; but the minutes still seemed hours, and it was a long way from being dark enough to leave the trench. We wondered if the sentry had gone to sleep. The sound of his footsteps had long ceased, but other noises now began. Cattle grazing in the surrounding meadows, and numerous deer which came to the neighbouring drinking place, would rub themselves on the posts which carried the wire entanglement. In doing so they often entangled their horns in the barbed wire, causing it to rattle and shake throughout its length. The sentries had long got accustomed, to these noises (for they occurred every night), a fact which was extremely favourable to our design. I reckoned heavily on the negligence of the sentries, for during my numerous nocturnal excursions I had observed that when it was near midnight and the orderly officer had visited his sentries, the latter usually put down their rifles in a corner and either leant against a post and slept or walked over to the next sentry, fifty yards away. Then they usually put on a pipe and chatted till the relief came.

The tower-clock struck eleven; so we had already been three hours in this damnable hole. Another half-hour and we might perhaps risk it. We carefully raised our heads from time to time above the edge of the ditch in order to have a peep round. It was now getting dark rapidly. The neighbouring trees could be seen only very indistinctly. We made careful 'soundings.' All was quiet. In the top story of the main building a tiny red lamp burned. We gave each other a nudge of intelligence.

The sentry who ought to have been keeping watch just above our hiding-place had either disappeared or gone fast asleep. At least we could see no trace of him. No need for reflection now. Carefully we rose and crawled over the edge till we lay full length on the grass, keeping as low as we possibly could. The numerous electric lights which surrounded the camp threw their glare far beyond us.

At first we lay like logs and listened. We were not sorry to have a good stretch, for our limbs were almost paralysed from lying so long on the cold, wet earth, and it was a long time before the blood began to circulate. Like Red Indians on the trail we crept forward inch by inch, pausing every now and then in order to look round and regain our breath; for with our two suits of clothes, and the thick leather waistcoats which we wore under our tunics, this creeping was very heavy work. It was therefore a good half-hour before we reached the wicker chairs and could unfasten our kits. And this, too, had to be done slowly and carefully, for the canes of the chairs creaked at every touch.

As soon as we had got all our stuff, we began the return journey in order to reach the particular spot in the fence which we had selected as offering the least difficulty. The way back was twice as long as the first journey. We crawled along, holding our kits partly in both hands, partly in our teeth. In this manner another half-hour passed. We had arrived at the wire. Alas, this wire entanglement, seen from the ground immediately beneath it, was much more tangled and twisted than our previous cursory examination had led us to think. But this was no time for reflection and regret.

We felt our way in between the single strands, twisted them aside as far as possible, and pushed slowly through. In order to get a purchase, we tried leaning on our hands on the ground. But this was not a success, for the ground under the entanglement was covered with a network of wire coiled and twisted in every direction, but hidden by the grass which had grown up through it, and our hands and knees were soon torn and bleeding. On every side it caught and tore us. Scarcely had we torn our clothes free from one strand when we were caught fast by a dozen others. So far as we could, we helped each other, loosening the barbs from each other's clothes and bodies. We had worked our way so far that we were hanging almost in the middle of the entanglement when the tower-clock struck twelve, and we heard the approaching footsteps of the relieving sentries. What were we to do? In the few minutes before the reliefs arrived we could not possibly get clear of the entanglement. A good three yards of wire still lay ahead of us. To retreat was also impossible, for if we tried to creep backwards we could not use our hands to part the wires. So we sat tight, with big drops of blood coursing down our faces and bodies. 'Quiet!' we whispered to each other, and tried to hold our breath, for we were panting with our exertions, and a soldier was coming along the fence whistling cheerfully. We were in a devil of a hole. If the man discovered us we might expect a bullet next moment,[19] for there was no escaping here. We tried to turn our faces downwards, lest they should show up in the darkness.

Two minutes of the most tense expectation! Sweat poured down me from every pore and my pulse throbbed from the exertion and excitement. Nearer and nearer came the sentry. Another five paces and he would be up to us. Thank goodness! The danger was past. The man stared stupidly in front of him as he came up to us—and passed by! He stopped at the sentry-box, said something we did not catch, and then went on to the next box. We gathered all our strength in one great effort to get clear of the fence. We no longer thought of the wounds we received. Though every single barb at first had made us wince, all pain was now forgotten in the excitement of our efforts.

Dragging one's body through a barbed-wire entanglement is incredibly slow and difficult work. We were becoming visibly weaker, and many times thought we could go no farther. But inch by inch we struggled towards the outside wire. Half a yard more—a quarter of a yard, and we should be there. The last bit was extremely exhausting, for we hardly had sufficient strength left to part the few strands which separated us from freedom.

But at last this difficulty also was overcome. Puffing and blowing, we worked through the labyrinth of wires till we got our heads free. With our last ounce of strength we helped each other to get body and legs clear, and then we threw ourselves down, completely exhausted, in the tall grass. We were, to use an expression of the country, so 'pumped out,' that for the next ten minutes we could hardly move a limb. But the thought that at long last we were free did not let us rest long. After a short rest we set about putting as great a distance as possible between us and the camp. Unfortunately, it was impossible to avoid leaving footprints in the tall grass, but we hoped that the heavy dew would soon straighten up the grass again.