THE ESCAPE
Silently, the desperate prisoners crouched in the dark corner of the
miserable German camp. Their hearts that had been so deep in despair
now beat with new hope.
"Now this is the plan in detail," announced Franz. "We must get it
all straight, as the least slip means failure. It's lucky I can speak
German like a native. I always despised the language, and when this
war broke out and I heard the terrible things the Boches were doing I
was ashamed to twist my tongue to the language. But now it comes in
mighty handy. I think I can fool the guard at the barracks where they
repair the uniforms. Once I get him out of the way it'll be fairly
clear sailing. We can pass out in the dark, and, once we get beyond
these hateful wires, it'll be the best chance we could hope for. Then
it'll be every man for himself, for it won't be safe for so many of us
to stick together, even if we are in German uniforms. Now does everyone
understand it?"
They all said they did, and then, as it was risky to remain any longer
away from their sleeping quarters, they silently stole back to their
miserable pallets. But there was hope now, where they had had only
despair before.
In brief, the plan made by Franz and some of his companions was this.
Not all in the prison pen could be included, as there were too many of
them. Some refused to take the chance, and others had plans of their
own for getting away.
Franz could, as he said, speak German like a native. He had formed
a plot to overpower the officer on guard at the shop where German
uniforms were repaired. Then Franz hoped to be able to get inside the
shop, pass out a number of German suits to his companions, don one
himself, and, under some pretense, lead the daring band out of the pen
under cover of darkness.
Such was the bare outline of the plot, but there were many side issues
which rendered it much more hazardous than it sounds.
Among the many tasks the Allied prisoners were set at in the German
detention camps was the repairing of German uniforms. The Huns were
hard put, after the first two years of war, to provide clothing for
their troops. And, as the Allies did later, the Boches formulated a
salvage plan. That is, the uniforms, when not too badly damaged, were
taken from the dead bodies of their soldiers and sent to the rear to be
cleaned, mended, and put in shape, to be issued to men whose clothing
had worn out in service.
Franz, Bob, and some of the others worked day after day remaking these
uniforms, and they knew the inside and outside of the barracks shop
where the uniforms were revamped and stored against the time of need.
After dark the uniform shop was deserted, but it was guarded generally
by but one officer, as it was somewhat removed from the prisoners'
sleeping places.
Franz planned to steal up on this officer as he was on duty in front of
the uniform building, overpower him in the most silent way possible,
and then don his uniform. He would hide his own miserable suit some
place, and also drag the body of the officer out of sight.
Once attired as a German officer and with his knowledge of the
language, Franz could move about the prison yard freely. He hoped he
would not have to do much talking, however, as he did not know what
orders the uniform guard might be under.
However, Franz intended to work quickly. Once he was attired as a Hun,
though he hated the uniform, it was his idea to slip into the shop and
bring out two other uniforms. Bob would put on one, and one of the
other conspirators the remaining suit. Then the trio could move about
with but little danger of detection.
Franz then proposed that he, Bob, and their companion should bring from
the shop enough German uniforms to fit all who were going to try to
escape in this way. They would don them in their sleeping quarters, and
then, under cover of darkness, would be led boldly to the main entrance
of the prison pen by Franz.
Here was the weakest and most dangerous part of the plot. If for any
reason the guard at the gate suspected anything they would all be shot
down without mercy.
But here again Franz counted on his knowledge of German. It was often
the practice for squads of German soldiers to march into and out of
the yard under the guidance of an officer, and Franz hoped he and his
friends would be taken for one of these parties. He could give the
guard at the gate any reason that seemed feasible for taking the men
out at night. All the prisoners were soldiers. They could march in a
squad like the Germans, and, though they might not be able to do the
"goose step," there would be no need for that.
"Well, we've got to take the chance," said Franz, as he and Bob turned
in on their pallets.
"Yes, it's worth taking a lot of chances to get out of this hole," was
the answer.
How they lived through the next day Bob, Franz, and the others in the
plot hardly recalled afterward. They were wistfully anxious for night
to come, and terribly worried lest by some chance the plan might be
spoiled.
But fate seemed to favor them. None of them was sent, as sometimes was
the case, to labor in distant mines. They were all kept at tasks within
or near the prison enclosure, and, to their delight, Bob and Franz were
put at work sewing buttons on revamped uniforms.
This gave them a chance to note that an unusual number of repaired
suits were ready to be issued. This was another matter that had worried
Franz. Sometimes the stock of available uniforms in the shop was
exhausted. If that had occurred at this time there would have been none
for the escaping prisoners.
"There's enough here for all of us," Franz remarked to Bob, as they
stopped work that night.
They filed in to their meagre supper, as did all the prisoners, and,
hungry as they all were, each one managed to smuggle away a small piece
of bread, or what passed for it, and some other food. For some days
past they had been hoarding such victuals as they could, for, once
escaped, they must hide in holes, live the best way they could, and
subsist on what they found until they could reach Holland or get back
to the American lines. And they all hoped to be able to do this, rather
than reach the neutral Netherlands, where they would be interned.
It may well be imagined that none of those in the plot to escape slept
that night. The hour for the trial was set at two o'clock in the
morning, that being the time when the guards would be least on the
alert.
And, much as rain was hated, everyone was glad when it began to drizzle
shortly after midnight. This meant that the guards would seek such
shelter as was available on their posts, and not be quite so alert as
they would be were the night fine.
"So far so good!" whispered Franz to Bob, as the time drew near. "I'm
going to start now."
He slipped from his hard bed and silently made his way to the door.
Franz knew the habits of the guard there. He generally was dozing off
at this hour, though it was against the rules. But as no escape had
been attempted in a long time, a little carelessness had crept into the
iron discipline.
As silently as a cat Franz crept up on this guard. In his hand the
Khaki Boy carried a file that had been worn down to what constituted
a dagger with a needle point. There was so slight a struggle and
commotion at the entrance of the barracks that Bob and the others,
breathlessly waiting, hardly heard it. Franz shuddered at the deed he
had been obliged to commit, but it was either his life or the guard's.
The lifeless body was dragged out of the way, and then Franz crawled
from the building. It was raining harder than ever now, and he was glad
of it. Quickly he made his way through the darkness to the clothing
shop. He was not stopped, and for this he was also glad. For though he
might have got past a sentry in the blackness by giving some excuse,
in German, for walking around, there would have been grave danger of
discovery. But, as it was, Franz found himself at the clothing depot,
and then he began to look for the guard.
"The most likely place he'll be will be in the shelter of the doorway,
out of the wet as much as possible," mused Franz. "I'll tackle him
there."
As he approached the door to the shop a figure stepped from the
doorway, just as he expected.
"Halt! Who comes?" demanded the under-officer in German, as he brought
his rifle around ready for instant use.
"I have some important information for you," said Franz, speaking in
the tongue he hated. "Hush! do not make an alarm."
As he spoke he drew near to the officer with the sharp-pointed file in
readiness.
"What is the information, and who are you?" asked the officer, who was
a corporal.
"This!" exclaimed Franz, and he struck true and hard.
There was a gasping, choking cry, hardly audible above the sighing of
the wind and the patter of the rain.
"I--I hope I don't have to do this again," thought Franz with a
shudder. "It isn't like killing men in battle. But it has to be!"
The way was now clear for him. As quickly as he could he stripped off
the corporal's uniform and donned it in place of his own rags. These
latter he tossed under the building, where he also hid the body.
Possessing himself of the officer's keys Franz hurried into the shop.
Fortunately he knew his way about even in the dark, and he caught up
two complete uniforms and two long coats from a pile he had noticed
that afternoon near the door, where they were stacked ready to be
shipped out in the morning.
Hurrying back to the sleeping shack, clad in the dead officer's
uniform, Franz carried with him the two other outfits he had picked up.
Quickly Bob and a man named Rayburn donned these suits, and then, in
the darkness and rain, they carried away enough uniforms to fit out the
entire escaping party.
Feverishly the men worked to get into them, and at last they were
outfitted. They were ready to be led to freedom by Franz now, if only
fate were kind to them.
"All here?" asked Franz in a whisper.
"All here," answered Bob, who had kept count. Some of the other
prisoners awoke, but none would join the escaping party. They regarded
the chances as too slim, and they knew what the result would be if they
were caught.
Out into the rain and darkness Franz led his squad of "German"
soldiers. Boldly they approached the gate. It was the crucial moment.
Would they be stopped?
The sentry came out of his little box as Franz led his men up in double
file.
"Halt!" came the command, and Franz repeated it.
"Who goes?" demanded the sentry.
"A party from the prison commandant's quarters to bring in a squad of
American prisoners," answered Franz. "Our brave fellows have captured
some more of the swine."
"Good!" grunted the sentry. "They ought all be shot. You have an order,
of course?" he asked.
"Yes," answered Franz, and for a moment his heart went cold. He had not
thought of this. In desperation he put his hand in the pocket of the
overcoat he had taken from the dead officer.
Franz was about to take out the deadly file, and use it for the third
time, but as he felt for it his fingers encountered a paper. He did not
know what it was, but he would take a chance. At any rate it would be
something in German.
Boldly he took it out and offered it to the guard at the gate. Had
there been any slip here Franz was ready to kill the sentry at once.
But the latter was intent on getting what he supposed was an order
permitting a squad of German soldiers to pass out. He took the document
from Franz's shaking hand.
"It is too dark to read," spluttered the guard. "And my flashlamp is
broken. Pass on!"
"Forward, march!" ordered Franz, in German. And how those words
thrilled the prisoners! They filed past the sentry who had turned to go
back into his little box. Then, as Bob, who brought up the rear, was
about to go through the gate which the sentry had unlocked, something
seemed to strike the guard as wrong.
"Your men have no guns, corporal," he said. "And to bring in
prisoners----"
"Bah! An unarmed German is a match for any number of the swine-dogs!"
returned Franz.
"Right! Pass on!" chuckled the guard.
And the prisoners were outside the gate!