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
In the village we could hear the sound of men talking and laughing
together. This was rather disconcerting, as for one thing we had been
hoping to find where they obtained their water. Far from finding
either well or spring or stream, however, we even had some difficulty
in finding the path out of the village. We were about to cut across
country, and had gone as far as to climb over a hedge into some
vineyards, when we recognised the path to the west of us. It worked
along the side of a hill apparently towards a saddle in the steep ridge
which closed the valley ahead. While we were in the vineyard we felt
around for grapes, but the vines were barren; in fact the whole valley
seemed waterless. We now regained the track and had nearly reached the
top of the ridge when our path suddenly took into its head to start
descending the valley again. Though we were loth to leave any track so
long as it made some pretence of going anywhere in our direction, this
was too much for our patience, and Cochrane led us due east, so as to
cross the bleak ridge which bordered the valley on that side and see
what the next valley could do for us. But even here our difficulties
were not to end: the farther hillside was rocky in the extreme and
covered with scrub and stunted trees, amongst which we clambered for
some two hours without finding any valley to promise easy progress in
the direction of the sea. To "Kola" tablets we once more resorted.
Finally, an hour before dawn, we lay down as we were, disheartened,
without water, and without a road.
CHAPTER XII.
DOWN TO THE SEA.
When daylight came, we found ourselves in a network of extraordinary
valleys. Large trees grew on the rock-strewn slopes, while along the
bottoms were little strips of bright red soil, sprinkled with stones,
and yet suggestive of great fertility; and indeed in some parts it
was clear that the ground had in a previous year been ploughed. Yet
as far as human habitation was concerned the valley seemed entirely
deserted; only here and there as we marched on we passed a few timbers
of some ruined shelter, indicating its former occupation by shepherd
inhabitants. The whole scene gave the impression that here had once
been flourishing well-watered vales, which had then been blasted by
some strange upheaval of nature, by which the whole water supply had
suddenly been cut off and the former inhabitants compelled to quit.
To open our eyes on such a scene did not tend to revive our spirits. We
had not a drop of water in our water-bottles, and although a valley
was soon found leading in the right direction, we followed it without
much hope of being able to quench our thirst. After an hour or so,
however, at a place where the valley widened a little, we picked up in
the soft red soil a number of goat-tracks, and noticed that several
others joined them, all seeming to converge towards the same spot.
These suggested water, but soon after they suddenly ceased.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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