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
"I don't think any of us can," replied our Turkish scholar. "But we
should like to hear you play us something," he added politely. "First,
however, could we have some water to drink? We are all very thirsty."
This saved us the ordeal of listening to Oriental music, for the little
child was sent round to each of us in turn with a shallow metal cup
of water, and by the time we had had a drink the musician had put
his instrument away. Encouraged by these beginnings of hospitality,
we asked if they had any bread for sale. At this the old man shouted
some questions to the other tent, at the door of which a woman soon
appeared. She talked so fast that we could not understand what she
said, but the expression on her face and all her gestures gave us
clearly to understand that she had never heard such impudence. In the
end, however, the old Turk gave us half a chupattie each. Meanwhile two
of the party had gone off to the well to fill all our water-bottles,
the rest remaining in the tent trying to persuade the man to give us
more bread. Since no more was forthcoming, as soon as the two returned
with water we moved on again.
Food-hunting was now becoming a vice, of which, in our hungry
condition, we found it difficult to cure ourselves. Though we had
still some of the food bought at the big village on August 24, we
eased our consciences with the thought that we might have to spend
some days on the coast before we found a boat. Moreover, in these
isolated tents, dotted about in so unfrequented a district, we might
with safety try to obtain additional supplies, for there was not much
likelihood of meeting gendarmes, and there was no town very near where
the tent-dwellers could give information about us. The next few hours,
therefore, were spent in searching for these isolated dwellings. But
our luck had changed, for at four tents we were received with a very
bad grace. One old woman, in particular, who, without any make up,
could have played with great success the part of one of the witches in
"Macbeth," showed great animosity towards us, and ended her tirade by
saying that nothing would induce her to give food to Christians.
Thus rebuffed, we marched on. A mile to our left front were the ruins
we had seen earlier in the day. Their fluted columns were immense, and
the capitals richly carved; but a closer inspection would mean going
out of our way, and a few minutes later they were lost to view.
Only two of us went to the fifth tent that we saw. The remainder walked
on a few hundred yards, and waited hidden in a small valley, easily
recognisable, because it led up to a conspicuous tree. Half an hour
later the two rejoined the main body, having bought 1½ lb. of crushed
wheat and the dixie half full of porridge made with plenty of sour
milk. This was divided amongst the six, as the purchasers had had a few
spoonfuls in the tent.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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