Four-Fifty Miles to FreedomJohnston, Maurice Andrew Brackenreed
History
Four-Fifty Miles to Freedom
Johnston, Maurice Andrew Brackenreed
Prisoner-of-war escapes; World War, 1914-1918 -- Prisoners and prisons, Turkish
This was no time for vain regrets, so we were soon clambering up the
farther slope, which was covered with scattered pines. Under cover of
these we gave ourselves a couple of minutes' breathing space, for the
hill was steep, and then went on over the top of the first ridge, a
thousand feet above the stream, and into a little dip beyond. Here we
found a trickle of water, and settled down amongst some small trees and
thorny scrub. The first thing to do was to take off our soaked boots
and let them dry; after this a brew of cocoa was prepared--well earned
by what we reckoned was a 27-mile march in the previous twelve hours.
Most of our feet were terribly sore, and Looney spent an hour sewing on
bandages before he struggled back into his boots that day.
With the present satisfactory rate of progress we could afford to be
rather more liberal with our food; and so the camp fire never died
down, for we took it in turns to make "pilaus" all that day. These were
made from crushed wheat, and differed from the porridge we had been
accustomed to make from it while at Yozgad, in that before boiling
it was mixed with a little melted dripping, a supply of which we had
obtained from the village. The resulting pilau was a vast improvement
on the plain porridge, besides being rather quicker to cook--a
consideration in view of the smallness of our cooking-pot. Altogether
we must have had five pilaus at this bivouac, but as each when
distributed filled only a third of a pint mug, we cannot be accused
of greed. To avoid all waste we had brought along even the bones of
the goat; from these we now made a weak soup, after which the bones
themselves were divided out for a last picking, some of us even eating
their softer portions. We were out of sight of the huts in the valley
which we had so hastily crossed, but could see the top of the hill on
the farther side; here was a fairly large walled village, with houses
built of stone and roofed with the usual flat mud roofs. Although
we could see this with our glasses, we were too far to be observed
ourselves, and moreover little sign of life appeared there. That
afternoon, however, we had a few anxious moments, when two men came
over the next ridge to the south of us: they passed within a hundred
yards of where we lay, but appeared not to have seen us.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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