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
They drove on then, and we turned our thoughts to other matters. Some
distance further on we came across a youth of about sixteen who was in
charge of a flock of sheep. When we were quite close to him his dog
must have done something to upset the youth's Hunnish temper, as the
beast got a fearful hiding.
Blow after blow, accompanied with torrents of Hun oaths, were rained
on the wretched animal's back by this child of Kultur, who was armed
with a heavy stick. To interfere would have been madness on our part,
so we passed on. For the next mile we could hear the poor beast's
howls.
A swampy mile or so had now to be covered, and then we got on to the
edge of a fir wood, which ran down to a road and railway. These we
reached and crossed safely, finding ourselves once again in farmland
and a country of hedges and dykes. When we judged that we had still a
mile or so to do before striking the river we halted and had our last
meal, hidden under a good thick bush which constituted part of a hedge
at the side of a rough track.
Setting out at 10 p.m., before it was really dusk, we followed a grass
track westwards and very nearly got ourselves caught by a piece of
carelessness.
CHAPTER XII
THE CROSSING OF THE RIVER
The river winds about considerably. It was into a canal that we
suddenly walked on turning a corner of a rough track. A bridge lay
right before us, with a sentry on it, who must have seen us at the
same moment as we saw him. Turning back we retraced our steps, but not
before we had seen two German patrols walking along the canal bank.
Leaving our track we got back to our previous hiding-place, intending
to wait until it was quite dark before attempting to cross the river
some distance to the north. Hardly had we got into our bush when a
cyclist soldier passed along the track along which we had been walking
a minute or two before. This alarmed us somewhat, but we deemed it
best to remain hidden till it should be darker.
While waiting we found and finished off our tin of milk, and discussed
plans in a whisper. We allowed half an hour or so to elapse and then
started off again; this time following a track running parallel to the
river, northwards. We had done a mile or so, when, just before
crossing another grass-road which led to the east, I saw the spiked
helmet and rifle of a German soldier silhouetted against the sky, and
moving rapidly from west to east. This turned us back, and we hoped
then to be able to get eastwards across country until we could make a
detour further northwards and regain the river bank.
Entering a field we got half-way across it when two horses, taking
fright at something, galloped away from the far corner straight
towards us. We now lay down and discussed matters. Germans were north
of us, east of us, and south of us, we knew, and the river to the
west of course would be guarded.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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