The Escape of a Princess Pat: Being the full account of the capture and fifteen months' imprisonment of Corporal Edwards, of the Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry, and his final escape from Germany into Holland — John Shaqi
The Escape of a Princess Pat: Being the full account of the capture and fifteen months' imprisonment of Corporal Edwards, of the Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry, and his final escape from Germany into HollandPearson, George
History
The Escape of a Princess Pat: Being the full account of the capture and fifteen months' imprisonment of Corporal Edwards, of the Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry, and his final escape from Germany into Holland
Pearson, George
Prisoner-of-war escapes; World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives, Canadian; World War, 1914-1918 -- Prisoners and prisons, German
Not anticipating this good luck, we had exercised our ingenuity to
construct a rude compass of our own out of a safety-razor blade and an
eyelet from my boot. It was within fifteen to twenty degrees of the
true north. In addition we had a safety lamp, which one of the guards
had long been looking for under the impression that he had lost it.
We now had our twenty days' rations saved up and so took turns sitting
up at night, awaiting our chance. We spent two months in this watchful
waiting, watching the wire and the sentries. But no opportunity
offered. We took turn about, one man on watch all night long, every
night. He could not seem to watch but must lie in his place, observing
all movement in the hut and listening carefully for any indicative
noises outside. Occasionally, he might step outside and ostentatiously
walk about as though sleepless, and, if spoken to, say that he was not
well.
But always there were the shining eyes of the watching dogs, growling,
if one came too near, and outside the stodgy sentries; and above all,
much light.
So we determined to volunteer for work, figuring that they were so
short of men that they would not lightly refuse us. It so happened
that ten men were asked for that Saturday to hoe turnips on a near-by
farm. The pay was thirty pfennigs--or six cents--a day. We
volunteered and were accepted without cavil. They thought our spirit
gone and that we had accepted the inevitable. We reasoned that if we
worked hard while we studied the lie of the land we might be asked for
again, could go prepared, and make a break for it.
And so it fell out. We worked hard all that day, at the same time
impressing the topography of the country upon our minds. At the close
of the day we were taken to the farm for our supper of potatoes and
buttermilk and then marched off to the laager, four miles distant. On
the following Monday we were ordered to go out to the same place.
Unfortunately we could not take our store of food as its bulk would
have meant our detection. In addition to the equipment already
mentioned I carried two packages of tobacco, a shaving brush and a box
of matches. Simmons had a terrible razor which would not shave, four
boxes of matches and a small piece of soap. These were all our worldly
possessions. It will be seen that, true to our British tradition, the
shaving outfit constituted the most formidable part of our
impedimenta.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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