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
By 7.30 all was clear, and we lost no time in making our way to the
line of telegraph poles which we could see disappearing over the crest
of the next rise. Alongside we found a splendid track, which we were
able to follow over undulating country for several miles. Nobby was
in trouble with his "chariqs"; in spite of experiments carried out
for weeks beforehand he had not succeeded in getting a pair which did
not now gall him in one place or another. This was serious, as he was
relying on these country sandals to carry him down to the coast; strong
English boots were hard to come by. On this night, after several delays
as one after another of his spares was tried and rejected, he was
eventually able to wear a pair lent him by Cochrane.
Twilight had now faded, and we were dependent once more on the light
of the stars. The track, easily distinguishable while it kept to the
telegraph poles, had begun to wind about as the country became more
undulating. In a little while it could no longer be followed with any
certainty. We therefore ceased to worry about the track and trusted to
the telegraph to lead us towards Angora, until this too failed us, for
it went too much to the north of west. We thereupon proceeded on our
proper course by compass.
We had started in the evening feeling unexpectedly fresh, and it says
much for our training that the first night's march had left none of us
in the least bit stiff. Nevertheless the day in the hot sun and the
lack of all sleep had tried us more severely than we thought, and we
were now beginning to feel the effects. The idea had been to have the
regulation five minutes' halt at the end of every hour's marching, but
we soon found that we were taking ten minutes' rest every half-hour.
We were, moreover, consumed with an appalling thirst; even at night the
heat off the ground in this arid track of land was stifling, while the
parched and cracked surface held out little hope of there being water
in the vicinity. At 11.30 we decided we must have a long halt, in the
hopes of a little sleep; two volunteers shared the watch. Shortly after
midnight we marched on again considerably refreshed, the main anxiety
now being for water. Two hours later we saw looming ahead a low ridge
of hills, and decided to go and wait there until dawn should reveal
the most likely direction for a drink. A little searching round then
showed us a fair-sized stream in the next valley to the south-west:
in Asia Minor, however, where there is a perennial stream, there is
fairly certain to be a village or two, and so it proved in this case;
but water we must have; besides, on the hillside, where we had rested
till daylight, there now appeared a shepherd with his flock. Hastily
gathering up our kit, we dodged up dry and rocky nullahs and over the
next ridge. Once more it was broad daylight before we settled down for
the day in our hiding-place, in rocky ground intersected with crevices
just wide enough for a man to lie in.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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