13 Days: The Chronicle of an Escape from a German PrisonCaunter, John Alan Lyde
History
13 Days: The Chronicle of an Escape from a German Prison
Caunter, John Alan Lyde
Prisoner-of-war escapes; World War, 1914-1918 -- Prisoners and prisons, German
A quiet day amid peaceful surroundings counteracted the effects of the
excitement of the previous night. We slept quite well by reason of the
good conditions, and but for the soreness of Fox's heel and my left
ankle would have felt extremely fit. We were guilty during the
afternoon of a piece of carelessness which nearly gave us away. Fox
and Blank were near the edge of our hiding-place, and went to sleep
with some of our kit spread about the ground round them. I was asleep
further inside our cover, but my boots were with theirs drying in the
sun.
Suddenly Fox woke up and saw a woman not fifty yards from them,
planting something in the field and gradually moving in our direction
as she worked. Waking Blank and seizing all the kit he could find he
crawled into the depths of our hiding-place, followed by Blank who had
got hold of other portions of our impedimenta. An hour or so later the
woman departed and we found that one of my boots had remained in the
open all the time. We decided that in all probability she had not seen
it, and so had no fears of discovery due to her.
The night's march began at 10 p.m., but it proved to be too early an
hour for such night-birds as we. Hardly had we moved two hundred yards
from our cover, when a youth with a shot-gun, prowling round in search
of rabbits, saw us from about sixty-yards away. We legged it and soon
left him wondering what three rough-looking men with heavy bags, and
of military age, were doing in that part of the country.
Making excellent progress that night, we crossed a wild stretch of
heath in the early hours of the morning, and then got back to more of
the abominable corn-land again. Crossing a railway and passing a
cottage by the level-crossing we were greeted with the usual barking
of a house-dog.
_Thursday, 28th June._ It was now high time to think of our
hiding-place for the day. Nothing presented itself and we carried on
with our rush westwards. Cover after cover we examined without finding
what we wanted, and at last, hearing German voices not far off, we
were forced to adopt the first thing which presented itself.
This proved to be a wood cut up with broad drives, with hardly any
undergrowth in it.
We had to make the best of a bad job, and by making a kind of zareba
of dead branches, some sort of cover from view from anyone more than
fifty yards away was possible.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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