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
The track now increased in width to as much as ten feet, being roughly
levelled out of the solid rock, and running along a ledge above a
precipitous ravine. Below us we heard the roar of a mountain stream,
and as at one point a rough path had been cut down to water-level,
Cochrane descended it and fetched up a chargal full of water. It was to
prove a serious mistake that we did not fill all our receptacles here.
On resuming our way, we were taken by our road over another striking
bridge which crossed the ravine a little higher up. This time the arch
was a pointed one. Once more we found the defile unguarded. We were
probably in magnificent mountain scenery, but could see little of it,
as the moon had not yet risen. Even though after crossing the bridge we
waited in the warmth of a little cave till after the time of moonrise,
the moon itself did not become visible until two hours later, so steep
were the slopes on every side of us. We could see, however, that we
were going round the eastern shoulder of the ridge which had blocked
our direct route, and this ridge rose sheer from the very edge of the
ravine.
Without a road to follow, we should have fared badly indeed. Even
with it, the climb from the bridge had been severe, but on proceeding
we soon came to the top of the rise and found ourselves walking on a
carpet of pine-needles through a beautiful open forest. This was a
wonderful contrast to the arid wastes or rugged ridges across which had
been so many of our long and weary marches. Even here, however, the
country was soon to resume its more normal aspect. We found ourselves
descending into an open valley with no signs of trees or vegetation.
Our road, too, dwindled to the width and unevenness of an ordinary
village track, and this it turned out to be, for it led past a few
isolated huts, and finally at 1 A.M. took us into a village.
A little before, during one of the hourly halts, we had seen in the
moonlight a man approaching on a donkey; so we took to our feet and
marched again in order to pass him the more quickly. This we did
without a single word being exchanged.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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