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
We were desperately anxious to make the frontier line within the next
half-hour, in order to avoid having to lie waiting for the next night
within a mile or so of it, as so many unfortunate escaped prisoners
have been caught while hiding near the frontier itself. This anxiety
on our part was now the cause of our making an appalling error, which
nearly ended disastrously for us both. When within a mile of a line of
trees, which we decided must be along the canal bank and must
practically define the frontier line, we suddenly saw two German
soldiers advancing some thousand yards in front of us. Had they seen
us? We dived to the ground and lay still, in the hope that we had not
been seen. Soon there was no doubt whatever that we had been observed,
as the two Boches came straight towards us at a steady walk.
We decided that by separating one or both of us might succeed in
getting away from them, and so I crawled towards the north while Fox
went off southwards towards a peat observation hut.
Fox was dressed in his dark blue suit still, and I had now got my
khaki coat as my outside garment. The value of the khaki coat now came
out.
They evidently saw Fox crawling and not me, as they very soon changed
their direction slightly in order to go after him. Fox and I had
crawled two hundred yards apart when he must have had no doubt that
they were definitely after him, and I suddenly saw him get up and run
off, away from the frontier direction.
He seemed to me to be keeping the hut between him and his German
pursuers. The latter, probably oldish men, or wounded and not
absolutely recovered, had no idea of running after him, and I suppose
they knew that their shooting was not good enough to score a hit at a
running-man four hundred yards from them. However, they followed his
course at a brisk walk, passing me at some hundred to two hundred
yards distance.
I saw them go to the hut, look in, and not finding anything in it of
interest to them, continue their pursuit. Fox led them over the worst
pieces of boggy ground he could find. Having no boots and very light
footwear, by reason of the two pairs of socks being his all, he was
able to do excellent "time" over the peaty soil.
The Germans got others to help them, and eventually had quite a number
of Boches after him. Finding a hole in the ground which satisfied his
requirements, Fox got into it and covered himself over with peat and
heather.
The "field" now included dogs and cyclists. When the dogs had got
sufficiently near him to cause real alarm a marvellous stroke of luck
came to his assistance. A flock of sheep, grazing on the moor,
wandered right across his track, drowning all scent and completely
defeating all the efforts of the dogs to follow his line.
After lying shivering in his hole all day he commenced his final dash
for the frontier at about 11 p.m., and crossed a mile or so to the
north of the place at which I passed through the German frontier line,
without seeing any sentries.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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