Outwitting the Hun: My Escape from a German Prison CampO'Brien, Pat
History
Outwitting the Hun: My Escape from a German Prison Camp
O'Brien, Pat
Prisoner-of-war escapes; World War, 1914-1918 -- Prisoners and prisons, German
The river was quite wide, but I am a fairly good swimmer, and I figured
I could rest awhile after the first trip before going back for the
second bundle.
The first swim was uneventful. When I landed on the other side I drank
till my thirst was quenched, and then swam back. After resting awhile
I started across a third time, with my shoes and several other things
firmly tied to my head. Just about ten feet from the opposite bank one
of the shoes worked its way loose and sank in about eight feet of water.
There was nothing to do but finish the trip and then go back and dive
for the missing shoe, as I could not go on with a single shoe.
Diving in my weakened condition was considerable strain, but I had to
have that shoe, and I kept at it for nearly an hour before I eventually
found it, and I was pretty nearly all in by that time.
That was the last time I ever took my shoes off, for my feet were
becoming so swollen that I figured if I took my shoes off I might be
unable to get them on again.
This stunt of crossing the river and diving for the lost shoe had
consumed about three hours, and after resting some fifteen minutes I
went on my way again. I had hardly gone a mile when I came to another
river, about the same size as the one I had just crossed. I walked
along the bank awhile, thinking that I might be lucky enough to find a
boat or a bridge, but after walking about half an hour I received one
of those disappointments which "come once in a lifetime." I found that
this river was the one I had just swum! I had swum it on the bend and
was still on the wrong side! Had I made only a short detour in the first
place, I would have avoided all the annoyance of the past three hours
and saved my strength and time. I was never so mad in my life at myself
as I was to think that I had not paid more attention to the course of
the stream before I undertook to cross it, but, as a matter of fact,
there was really no way of telling. The river was not shown on my map at
all.
Now I _had_ to cross it, whereas before I could have turned it. I walked
boldly into the water, not bothering to take my clothes off this time,
nor did I ever bother to take them off afterward when swimming canals
or rivers. I found it was impossible to keep them dry, anyway, and so I
might just as well swim in them and save time.
All the next day I spent in a forest, to which my night's travel had
brought me about five o'clock in the morning. I kept on my way through
the woods until daylight came, and then, thinking the place would afford
fairly good concealment, I concluded to rest until night.
The prospects of even a good sleep were dismal, however, for about the
time the sun's face should have appeared a drizzling rain began and I
gave up my search for a dry spot which would serve as a bed. Some of the
leaves were beginning to fall, but of course there were not enough of
them to have formed a covering for the ground, and the dampness seemed
to have penetrated everywhere.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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