UNSUCCESSFUL ATTEMPTS AT ESCAPE
During the long period of captivity which ensued all my faculties were
concentrated on finding an opportunity to escape as quickly as possible
from this unbearable camp.
The proceedings against Roger Casement, which began in April, showed
clearly that the English would stick at nothing in their effort to find
out those details in the preparations for the Irish revolution which,
with all their extensive spy system, they had so far failed to discover.
Sergeant Bailey, on whose fidelity Casement relied so thoroughly, had
turned traitor in order to save his life.
In international law the English could make no charge against me or my
crew. I knew that well. But I also knew just as well that international
law would afford us no protection if it occurred to the English to do
what _they_ thought right. It would not have been the first time in this
war that the English had ignored the most elemental provisions of
international law; for it is well known that the English, when it is
necessary, know only one law, English law. So long, therefore, as the
proceedings against Casement lasted, I had to be prepared for any new
surprise. But I did not wish to wait for this, for I had not the
slightest wish to share Casement's probable fate and gratify the thirst
for vengeance of the English mob by hanging on a gallows in the Tower.
Whenever I got a chance I surveyed the camp as unobtrusively as
possible, climbed into the most distant lofts and cellars of the old
ruined castle, and examined the great barbed-wire fence to find the
weakest spot. In doing so I discovered that it would be, at the very
least, extremely difficult to escape from this prison. Donington Hall
was at that time the best-guarded and most secure prisoner-of-war camp
in England. It deserved the name 'Castle' only when regarded from a
distance, for the interior of Donington Hall was more like a tenement
than the former residence of the Barons Hastings.
Since the escape of Lieut.-Commander Plüschow in July 1915, no prisoner
of war had succeeded in getting away, although well organised attempts
had not been wanting. The difficulties were increased by the fact that
the possibility of further progress after leaving the camp had got much
smaller during the last six months. The patrolling of the country and
the watch kept on the main roads, railway stations, and docks, were now
such that it was practically impossible to get out of the country. The
exemption-certificates and the food-cards, without which one could get
nothing to eat on the road, increased the difficulties of escape.
If I therefore attempted to discuss the question with my friends I
always got the same answer: 'It's no use. You will get outside the
barbed wire and no farther.' I could sympathise with the poor fellows'
hopelessness. The many recent failures and the effect of the long
captivity--most of them had been pining here for a year and a half--had
impaired their will and brought them into a state of dull despondency.
I had not yet been infected with barbed-wire fever, and persevered in my
efforts. The hope of getting free sooner or later from this prison, was
the only thing which could save one from a mental breakdown.
Unfortunately, I was soon convinced that escape before the Casement
trial was finished was out of the question. I had, indeed, found a few
friends who were willing to make along with me their nth attempt at
escape, and there were always a few stout fellows willing to help. But
we had so many difficulties to contend with that week after week and
month after month went by and we were no nearer the realisation of our
hopes.
The greatest difficulty was this, that it was possible only with the
greatest cunning and by bribing with large sums of English money to
obtain the necessary tools. In contrast to all other English camps in
which N.C.O.'s and men and civilians were interned--and in contrast to
many officer camps in Germany also--tools of any sort were forbidden in
English officer camps, even the tiniest hammer. Even pocket-knives which
were larger than the index-finger were confiscated, and the owner was
punished into the bargain. Ready money--again in contrast to other
camps--was forbidden. In order to be able to pay for the necessaries of
life we received metal tokens for which we gave receipts. This
regulation and many others, made either by the War Office or the Camp
Commandant, made the execution of our plans very difficult. At the same
time these regulations were very flattering to us German officers, for
they showed us continually how important we were. It was characteristic
of the English attitude that much more extensive measures were taken to
recapture one escaped German officer than were taken to recapture ten or
twenty men. Every 'Hun officer' was looked upon as the devil himself.
The best proof of this is to be found in the English press.
The second difficulty was to procure civilian clothes and false papers.
This also was possible only by bribing English soldiers or labourers who
happened to be working in the camp. I succeeded on one occasion in
appropriating unnoticed a torn jacket and a small chisel belonging to a
workman who was laying drain-pipes near my hut. I left in place of them
a couple of silver coins, and then from the shelter of a shrub I saw the
Englishman pick them up contentedly without bothering about the stolen
articles--which I had safely buried in the meantime.
The excitement which my landing in Tralee Bay and the subsequent events
in Ireland had caused throughout England, and, above all, the senseless
clamour which the English press kept up for months afterwards, brought
it about that I was regarded as a sort of 'Sherlock Holmes,' and was
watched very closely in the camp. The sentries were told to keep a
sharp eye on me, and as I was conspicuous on account of my height, all
eyes were turned on me as soon as I appeared anywhere in the camp.
Particularly during the first months of my captivity I often heard the
sentries say, when I came near the barbed wire, 'Look out! Lieutenant
Spindler is coming!' Sometimes they called me simply, 'the Casement
fellow,' or 'the Casement captain.' Whenever English generals came down
to inspect and were present at the parade, the Camp Commandant, before
walking down the front, always pointed with his stick to the right flank
where I stood, and told his superior officers, 'That tall naval officer
is the fellow that brought Roger Casement to Ireland.' We gradually
became so accustomed to this that the strange introduction seemed a
necessary part of the parade. But apart from the fact that the
Englishman's statement was false, this exhibition at last began to bore
me. I therefore sent a request to the colonel to omit this
introduction--which he did, when I pointed out that I did not wish to be
regarded as a very fine specimen in a zoological garden.
With similar intermezzos, chief among which were my numerous written
complaints, the days passed. From years of experience I knew that the
utmost impudence was the only thing that impressed the English. The
manner in which some of the English officers treated us prisoners
enraged me so much that I gradually made a sort of hobby of plaguing the
camp authorities with innumerable written complaints. For many of my
friends also who did not know English I composed similar letters; and I
nearly always had the satisfaction of noting their success, for the
complaints were always justified.
The death sentence on Casement had already been carried out.
Fortunately, the proceedings had revealed no material that could
compromise me. Some of us had in the meantime succeeded in manufacturing
(by means of an imprint in wax) a copy of the key to the so-called
clock-tower. Under this, as we had been told by a clerk who had been
sacked by the commandant, was a passage nearly a mile long. This led
apparently to the village of Castle Donington and was probably intended
by the Barons Hastings as a means of escape in case of siege.
I need hardly mention that we made the utmost efforts to find the
entrance to this passage. Unfortunately, we could work only a very short
time each day in the cellar of the clock-tower, for close to the stairs
which led to it was the switchboard for the alarm siren and for the
electric-light which was used both day and night. Nevertheless, with the
help of a large pocket-knife we succeeded after about a fortnight's hard
work in cutting a brick out of the wall undamaged. Once this beginning
had been made the work of cutting out more bricks went quicker. Then we
burrowed farther with the little chisel I had appropriated. The rubble
thus produced was wrapped up in newspapers and carried away afterwards.
A few officers, of course, always kept 'Cave' above, and whenever the
signal agreed upon was given, the bricks were quickly replaced, and
then no one could see from the stairs that anything had been going on
here. Twice we were surprised. In our extremity all we could do was to
flatten ourselves against the wall, and the sergeant who had been to the
switchboard went away without noticing anything.
After several weeks' work we had cut a hole about a yard and a half deep
in the wall. It looked as if we should never get through. To our joy we
noticed however, that the wall, when tapped with the chisel, gave a much
more hollow sound now. Did this mean that we were near the underground
passage? With throbbing hearts we worked on. In three or four days we
reckoned we ought to be through. Then the unexpected happened. Next
morning, before we went down to the cellar, we noticed to our horror a
couple of locksmiths, under the personal direction of the commandant,
putting a lock and also a heavy padlock on the little tower door. Our
plan was discovered. How, I have never been able to find out. All I know
is that the English, in their zeal, made a stupid mistake, for if they
had waited until the afternoon they would have caught us going down.
That disposed of the tunnel once and for all, for the only way of
getting into the clock-tower was through the little tower door. For the
next few weeks we dared do nothing, on account of the very strict watch
which was kept. But as no one escaped during the next month the
watchfulness of the guards gradually relaxed again; so we started on a
new enterprise which promised success. Through the castle chapel, which
was about twenty yards distant from the scene of our former labours
there must surely be some way of getting to the tower. No sooner said
than done. After the evening round, I and a friend got out of bed. At
the head of our beds we put dark bundles, which in the bad light might
be mistaken for our heads. Then we carefully felt our way along
staircases and passages down to the chapel. Under a seat on one side of
the altar we carefully loosened one of the broad floor-boards, and
climbed down through the opening. At first we thought we could not find
bottom, for I, the taller of the two, though hanging on to the plank
only by my finger-tips, could feel nothing with my toes. We boldly
struck a match, and then found that we were right over a shaft. So we
tried our luck at another spot, and at last succeeded. The depth under
the front portion of the chapel was so small that it was only by bending
low that we could stand in it. With the help of matches we felt our way
forward between the old stone coffins of the long-dead Barons Hastings.
A heavy, mouldy smell, which constantly made us cough, pervaded the
crypt. Occasionally it became so strong that we debated whether we
should retreat, for the echo of our coughing resounded from all the
walls and we feared that the night-patrol might discover us. It was so
uncannily still that we could hear the ticking of our watches. Now and
then something raced noiselessly over our feet in the dark. Rats were
apparently plentiful here. Involuntarily I thought of a story which I
had read as a child. Two rascals who in the dead of night had broken
into the cellar of an old castle suddenly found themselves surrounded by
coffins, from which the spirits of the departed rose just as the pair
were about to steal the hoard of gold. They froze with fear, and were
found next morning dead in the cellar. Although I don't believe in
ghosts, I must confess that for a moment I felt uncomfortable. Inch by
inch we advanced. The farther we went the more icy became the
temperature. At last we arrived at a massive stone wall. We felt and
examined the moist stones and the crumbling mortar in between. Nothing
but basalt-blocks three feet square. Who could tell but that one of
these stones covered the entrance to the tunnel? Surely we should be
able to find the entrance.
We found nothing remarkable that night and made our way back to bed
again, intending to renew our search next night. Night after night we
repeated these excursions, and were once within a hair's breadth of
being discovered. The 'Visiting Rounds' lit up the chapel inside just as
we were about to cover up the opening with the plank. There we stood as
stiff as mummies, with our faces turned to the entrance, carrying the
whole weight of the heavy oak seat on our heads, for in our hurry we had
not had time to replace it in its old position.
One of the soldiers actually turned the light on our faces for several
seconds. Then the heavy door was slammed and next moment we heard the
'Tommies' continue their rounds. Once again luck had been on our side.
Probably the men had just turned out of their bunks and were really half
asleep as they stumbled through the camp. By the time they got to our
beds we were under the clothes, and we snored loudly when the same lamp
was held to our faces which had almost betrayed us a few minutes
earlier.
After about a fortnight's work we were unwillingly forced to the
conclusion that our hopes had been unfounded. There was not the
slightest indication that this massive wall contained an entrance to a
tunnel. Several determined attempts to loose one of the big stones had
to be given up as hopeless for want of necessary tools.
In any case we should have had to desist, for a few days later one of
our comrades, Naval-Lieutenant Prondczindsky, was caught while
attempting to escape, and the guards again became very strict. It was a
pity that Prondczindsky's plan did not succeed.[18] He tried to cross
the barbed-wire entanglement, which was eight or nine yards deep, by
means of a board which he had made.
He had spent nearly five months putting together a sort of box-like
structure about seven yards long, eight inches wide, and four inches
deep, made from the wood of cigar-boxes. Big pieces of timber were
unobtainable in the camp, and he had calculated with mathematical
precision the carrying capacity of his plank.
To increase our difficulties, the guard was now increased by twenty men
in consequence of this attempt. As the winter was coming on our chances
became still smaller, for now there was nothing in the fields to satisfy
one's hunger in case of necessity. The daily camp rations were getting
visibly smaller in consequence of the activity of the submarine war, so
that it was difficult now to save up even a week's food. Even bribery
helped us little, for it often happened that English soldiers, with whom
we were for certain reasons on good terms, came to us, who had so
little, and begged a piece of bread because their own rations had become
so short.
I gave up one plan after another, but took pains all the time to give
the impression that escape was the last thing I thought about. I was a
regular attendant at the hospital, sometimes with justification,
sometimes without. I wished to give the doctor the impression that in my
impaired state of health it would be impossible for me to support the
fatigues of an escape. My knowledge of English stood me in good stead in
intercourse with the English officers and men who were now getting more
and more trustful. If they chanced to ask me whether I ever thought of
escaping I told them with a most innocent look that only a fool would
think of making an attempt now that the conditions had become so
difficult.
I had gradually worked out a code system by which I communicated with
Germany in a round-about manner. This system of communicating secret
news was so well conceived that the most alert English censor would have
found nothing suspicious in the contents of my letters. Even if he did
suspect something, all his arts and appliances, magnifying glasses,
acid-baths, photographing, and ironing of the letters, would not help
him a bit. The letters revealed nothing. To make assurance doubly sure,
I had my letters in code signed by comrades who were not regarded by the
English as suspicious; for I had reason to believe that all my letters
were stopped. In this manner I succeeded in communicating with friends
in Germany, asking them for things necessary for the escape, English
money, tools (the parts of which were sent separately), and so forth.
The letters, which arrived safely at their destination, were understood
and the various commissions executed. For obvious reasons I do not
intend to disclose how the articles were sent. Unfortunately, very few
of them reached me, for when they began to arrive at the camp I had
already escaped.
I had read in the newspaper that some of my brave crew had escaped from
their camp and been recaptured. As I learned later, they had conceived
the plan (a hopeless one) of setting me free and then trying to get out
of the country. Shortly afterwards I was taken to London to appear
before the Prize Court. I got such short notice that I had no time to
provide myself with civilian clothes with the object of escaping during
the long journey or when we were in London. Without money and in uniform
I could not make the attempt. Immediately after my return to camp I
addressed a long letter to the Prize Court, in which I requested that
the previous decision should be revised, and that the money taken from
me and my crew should be restored to us.
The Swiss Embassy was kind enough to forward this letter (and many
others) to the proper quarter, although the American Embassy, which was
still 'neutral' at that time, had refused to transmit it. In the next
chapter I shall have something to say about the effect of these letters.
It would, of course, have been a mistake to concentrate on any one plan
which did not absolutely guarantee success. I therefore looked round for
other methods of escaping from the camp. With the help of a friend I
contrived a jumping pole (made of broom-handles) with which I intended
to jump over the barbed-wire fence. Unfortunately, the pole broke in two
on its first 'trial voyage.' We were not discouraged, and we made
another pole. And when this broke we made more. But all these attempts
failed because it was impossible to smuggle a couple of good-sized poles
into the camp. To the same fact, also, was due the failure of another
scheme to reach a tree outside the fence from one inside by means of a
long pole. This would have required a piece of wood or rope at least
twelve yards long, for all the lower boughs, especially those near the
fence, had been carefully cut off.
About the time when I was busy with these plans a small motor-car used
to come nearly every day into camp. With a little address and the help
of the chauffeur it would have been possible to hide in it, for it was
easy to distract the attention of the sentry told off to guard it. The
chauffeur was, as I soon discovered, very accessible. I covenanted with
him to take me out of the camp for £500.
From my own resources and by borrowing from friends who had large sums
of English money, I could raise about half of this amount. The remainder
was to be paid after the war, and satisfactory guarantees were given.
The payment was to be made by one of my friends as soon as the man
proved that I was safely out of the camp. The day and the hour were
agreed upon, and everything appeared to be in order. Very few knew about
my plan, for I did not want to have it wrecked by incautious gossip.
On the appointed evening I stood in the yard near the garage, provided
with all necessaries, and waited with bated breath for my deliverer.
Half an hour--an hour--passed. I was beginning to wonder if I had been
deceived, when suddenly I heard the well-known sound of the horn in the
distance. A few moments later the headlights lit up the long passage
that led to the yard. As the car passed the entrance doors I noticed two
English officers sitting in it. Had the chauffeur led me into a trap?
I carefully crept along the wall into the darkest corner of the garage.
'Well, now, let's get to work,' I heard one of the officers say. Then I
saw him look round the shed as if looking for something. My heart beat
faster. Fortunately, the Englishman's remark had no reference to me, for
the two of them walked away in the direction of the commandant's office.
The chauffeur began to work on the car, and swore when he found he had
run out of petrol, whereupon the sentry offered to get him some. This
was contrary to his orders, for he was forbidden to leave the motor. I
then showed myself and was about to get into my hiding place. But the
chauffeur prevented me, declaring that he was risking ten years'
imprisonment by this joke (as he called it), and that he must therefore
have £500 in cash on the spot, and another £500 later.
This was a low trick. It was impossible for me to pay £500 at once, and
I could not guarantee to pay the second instalment, for it was beyond my
means. As discussion did not help matters and I could hear the footsteps
of the sentry returning with the petrol, I had, with a heavy heart, to
give up my plan.
FOOTNOTE:
[18] It only earned him six months' imprisonment. Let me state here
that, instead of the three to fourteen days' arrest awarded in Germany
for attempts at escape, the English, up to the conclusion of the Hague
Agreement in July, 1917, never awarded less than six months'
imprisonment!