Prisoner-of-war escapes; World War, 1914-1918 -- Prisoners and prisons, German
At Leipzig, where we arrived at 9:30 A.M., I had my little Gladstone
taken to the cloak-room by a porter, to give more verisimilitude to my
limp. For the same reason I made it my first business to buy a stout
walking-stick at the nearest shop. After that I got a good luminous
compass, whose purchase was another test case. When it was treated as
an everyday transaction by the man behind the counter my spirits rose,
and the acquisition of maps appeared a less formidable undertaking.
Nevertheless, I resolved to leave their purchase to the afternoon.
Should I find that suspicion was aroused by my request for “a good map
of the province of Westphalia,” I intended to nip away on the earliest
train, if I could reach the station unarrested.
The rest of the morning I spent limping through the town, keeping very
much on the alert all the time. The tortuous, narrow streets of the
inner town, with their old high-gabled houses in curious contrast with
the modern buildings and clanging tram-cars, were a delight to me as
well as a difficulty; the latter in so far as I had to keep account of
my whereabouts, the better to be able to act swiftly in an emergency.
Gradually I got into more modern streets, wide and straight. In passing
I had made a mental note of a likely-looking restaurant to have lunch
in later on.
At last I found myself in a public park, where I rested on a seat for
some time. A shrewd wind, which whistled through the bare branches of
the trees, made me wrap myself tighter in my greatcoat.
I started to walk back to the restaurant at midday, following
for the greater part of the way in the wake of three fat and
comfortable-looking burghers, who were deciding the war and the fate
of nations in voices loud enough for me to follow their conversation,
although thirty paces behind. In the restaurant I had a meal, somewhat
reduced in quality and quantity, for a little more than I should have
paid in peace times. Over a cigarette I then started to look up my
evening train in the time-table I had bought at the station. Unable to
find what I wanted, I grew hot and cold all over. I had by no means
speculated upon having to stay in any town overnight, and should not
have known how to act had I been forced to do so. This question had to
be settled there and then, so I went to the station and the inquiry
office. I was told that I could get a train at 7:50 or 8 P.M.--I forget
which--to Magdeburg, and from there catch the express for the west to
Dortmund.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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