About 4 p.m. I dressed, collected all that I considered necessary for my flight, ate several substantial buttered rolls, and bade farewell to my comrades, especially to my faithful friend Siebel, who, unfortunately, I could not take with me as he was no sailor and did not speak English. A heavy storm was in progress, and rain poured in torrents from grey skies. The sentries stood wet and shivering in their sentry-boxes, and therefore nobody paid any attention when two officers decided to walk about in the park, in spite of the rain. The park contained a grotto, surrounded by shrubs, from which one could overlook its whole expanse and the barbed wire, without oneself being seen. This is where Trefftz and I crept in. We took a hurried leave of Siebel, who covered us with garden chairs, and we were alone. From now onwards we were in the hands of Providence, and it was to be hoped that Fortune would not forsake us. We waited in breathless suspense. Minutes seemed like centuries, but slowly and surely one hour passed after another, until the turret-clock struck six in loud, clear chimes. Our hearts thumped in unison. We heard the bell ring for roll-call, the command “Attention,” and then the noisy closing of the day-boundary. We hardly dared to breathe, expecting at any moment to hear our names called out. It was 6.30 and nothing had happened. A weight slipped from our shoulders. Thank God, the first act was a success. For during roll-call our names had again been reported on the sick-list and, as soon as the officers were allowed to fall out, two of our comrades raced back as swiftly as they could through the back entrance and occupied Trefftz’s bed and mine. Therefore, when the sergeant arrived he was able to account satisfactorily for the two invalids. As everything was now in order, the night-boundary was closed, as every night, and even the sentries withdrawn from the day-boundary. Thus we were left to our own devices. The exceptionally heavy rain proved a boon to us, for the English soldiers generally indulged in all kinds of frolic in the evenings, and we might have easily been discovered. The hours followed each other. We lay in silence; sometimes we nudged each other and nodded our heads joyfully at the thought that up to now all had gone so smoothly. At 10.30 p.m. our excitement came to a head. We had to pass our second test. We clearly heard the signal “Stand to,” and from the open window of my former room “The Watch on the Rhine” rang out sonorously. It was the concerted signal that all were on the alert.