My Escape from Donington Hall, Preceded by an Account of the Siege of Kiao-Chow in 1915Plüschow, Gunther
History
My Escape from Donington Hall, Preceded by an Account of the Siege of Kiao-Chow in 1915
Plüschow, Gunther
Prisoner-of-war escapes; World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives, German; World War, 1914-1918 -- Prisoners and prisons, British
We shook hands as the train moved off.
CHAPTER XVII
BACK IN THE FATHERLAND!
I WAS quite unable to sit still for long. Alone in my first-class
compartment I was overwhelmed by the thoughts and hopes which raced
through my brain. I ran about my railway carriage like a wild animal in
a cage.
At last! At last! It seemed an eternity; the train passed slowly over
the German frontier.
The black-and-white post greeted my eyes and, leaning out of the
window, I joyfully yelled “Hurrah!” twice.
But the third “Hurrah!” stuck in my throat, as carried away by
gratitude, happiness and delight I sobbed aloud, and could not prevent
the tears gushing from my eyes.
Was this sloppiness?
The train stopped at Goch. The first “field-greys” I had ever seen in
my life stood on the platform as I jumped carelessly out of the train.
A harsh grip seized me by the collar, and a huge Prussian cavalry
sergeant-major, with fierce eyes under a shining helmet, held me in his
iron fist.
“Ha! now we have got the young scamp!”
I would gladly have fallen on my dear “field-grey’s” neck, for never
had I felt safer in my life than at that moment.
I tried to explain who I was; but a smile which would have boded but
little consolation to anyone else was all the answer I got.
Two brave Landsturm veterans conducted me to Wesel under arrest next
morning.
No one was at the office yet to interview me. Small boys had followed
me, throwing stones and shouting: “They have got him; they have got
him—the spy!” The darling little blond heads!
An orderly received me!
“Sit down—you there. With people like you we don’t lose much time.
When the Herr Kapitänleutnant F. arrives, just a short examination—and
up in the air you go.”
After some little time the Redoubtable One appeared—of course a
comrade of mine. Indescribable astonishment and joy! But the stupid
face of my amiable orderly was good to behold. He had to run off
straight away and fetch my breakfast.
I derived special satisfaction while still at Wesel from reading an
English warrant from the _Daily Mail_, dated 12th July, when I was
already safe, which ended by declaring that I would probably try to
escape as a sailor on a neutral steamer and that:
“His recapture should be but a matter of time.”
An hour later I sat, still in my workman’s clothes, a passport in my
pocket, in the Berlin express—of course first class!
At last I had attained my goal! It had taken me nearly nine months to
break my way through from Kiao-Chow to Germany.
Germany, oh, my beloved country! I had come back to thee!
The sun was shining radiantly on the 13th of July 1915, and my elated
eyes were taking in the lovely pictures of my countryside.
I had settled down alone in my first-class carriage, and had spread
my belongings on both sides of the window, and begun to jot down my
report in pencil.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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