WHAT HAPPENED IN THE WOOD
Weather Bad but Hopes High--Primitive Dressmaking--The Woman at
the Farm--The Zeppelin--The Fight in the Wood.
The only roads we habitually used were side ones, and especially did
we avoid any with telegraph wires which might be used against us. It
was a flat and swampy country, full of mist, and the nights were few
in which it did not rain. And we were always very wet and very cold.
The latter was worse than the lack of food. Sometimes we struggled for
hours at a time, knee-deep in desolate stretches of mist-covered
morasses which gave no promise of firm footing but which often dropped
us in to the waist instead. In addition, the country was cut up by
numerous small ditches, six to eight feet wide, which along toward
morning presented so much of an effort in the jumping that we usually
plunged into the water by preference. Our feet were adding to our
misery by this time. On one occasion, as we dragged ourselves out of
the water, two dogs came rushing at us and then followed, yelping. It
was nearly daylight and a woman came down to see what was going on. We
remained motionless near a hedge. She failed to see us, which was
perhaps good luck for both her and us.
The diary for that period reads: "August 28th: Rain worse than ever.
Not a piece of our clothes dry and too much water to lie down. Good
going last night. Cover in a wood outside village. Good. Meals: Nix.
Ought to reach the Hustre river to-night. In good spirits."
"August 29th: Rain stopped and a bit of sun came out. Feeling much
more cheerful. Just had a shave and clean-up. Going last night very
bad. Swamps and canals. Had to leave our course. Feet feeling better.
Meals for the day: turnips, peas and green apples. Did not reach the
river. All's well. No complaints." That shave was a terrible torture.
"August thirtieth: Rain, thunder and lightning most of last night. Got
a bit of shelter in a cowshed in a field. We are wet and cold as
usual, with no sun to dry. Fair cover in a small wood. Going good
last night. Haven't struck the Hustre yet. Meals: green apples and
brambles. Feet pretty sore. Made a needle out of wood and did a bit of
sewing. Best of health."
We had been ploughing through the mist, confused by it and the
numerous hedges, when at the side of a small field we had run into
this cowshed, a tumbledown affair of sods, caved in at the sides and
partly covered by a thatched roof. We built up the side from which the
wind came the worst, hung a rotting canvas we found at the other end
and then snuggled up together to exchange warmth.
The mist had scarcely lifted when we heard a slight noise. We looked
up. A woman was at the entrance to our hovel, looking down full at us.
She turned and walked away. We rose, still dazed with sleep, and found
that we were quite close to a farmhouse which owing to the mist we had
failed to observe before, and from which our visitor had evidently
observed the result of our building operations. "She saw us," I said,
and we regretted not having seized her. She appeared to be signalling.
A good-sized wood lay well up ahead. "Come on," I said. "Let's beat
it. We can handle a few of 'em better than the whole mob." We could
see the farm labourers gathering in a knot. The rain came on just then
and perhaps assisted in dampening their ardour. At any rate they did
not follow us into the wood. We spent rather an uneasy time though,
when, late that day, some men approached our hiding place in a clump
of bushes and for half an hour shot their fowling pieces off all
around where we lay.
They did not seem to be after us; more likely they were hunters. The
same thing had happened in a lesser degree several times before. None
the less it was very uncomfortable to have the buckshot rattling all
around us in the bushes where we lay and we felt much better when they
had gone.
As for the wooden needle: That was of course the result of our
necessity. It was a long thorn--first, a punch in the cloth and like
as not a stab in the finger in the bargain, then a withdrawal of the
crude needle and a careful threading of the hole with our coarse
string, after the fashion of a clumsy shoemaker. Some sewing! Some
needlewoman!
The green apples and the berries which we got here proved a most
welcome change in our diet.
"August thirty-first: Not much rain but very cold. Too dark to travel
last night. No stars out to go by. Crossed the river this morning, at
last. Good cover in bushes. Feet are badly peeled. Hope for better
luck to-night. Meals: apples and turnips. Cold and rain are putting us
in bad state. But still confident." We were daily growing weaker and
prayed only that our strength would last to put us over the border.
"September first: No rain and a little sun. Feeling much better. Going
last night much the best we have had. Good cover in a thicket. Will
soon be going over the same country we did last time we escaped.
Meals: peas and beans. Still in good health."
"September second: No rain, but cold out of the sun. Pretty fair going
last night. Feet still sore. Cover on straw stack in middle of field.
Warmer than the woods. Zeppelin just passed overhead going north.
Meals: turnips, carrots, apples and peas."
"September third: Fine weather. Good going last night. Feet still
pretty bad. Had to cut my boots. Fine cover in the wood. Meals: baked
potatoes. Feel fuller." This was our first cooked meal and the
pleasure it gave us was beyond all words. We lit it under cover of
night so that by the time day had come there was nothing but glowing
coals in which the potatoes roasted while we slept.
My feet were badly swollen by this time so that I was faint with the
pain of them.
The Zeppelin, strange though it was under the circumstances, was only
a small incident in many others of vaster importance which were
happening daily to us but it was flying so low that we deemed it best
not to move until it had passed. We wondered if it were going to
England, and envied it.
"September fourth: More rain. Hard going half the night. Crossed large
peat bog and wet to the waist. Very cold. Cover in wood. None too
good. Got scared out of our first cover. Meals: Milk, apples and peas.
Feet not so sore. Still raining and cold. We should soon be at the
River Ems."
On the evening of this day we walked out to the edge of the wood we
were in and stood there sizing up the near-by village. It was about
seven o'clock and wanted about an hour to darkness and our usual time
for hitting the trail. Without any warning, a burly farmer confronted
us. He was as badly startled as we were. Our remnants of painted
uniforms and our ragged, soaked and generally filthy condition no
doubt added to our terrible appearance. We had long since lost our
caps and our hair was matted like a dog's. The German was armed with a
double-barreled shotgun, and at his heels a powerful-looking dog
showed his teeth to us, so that I marked the red of his tongue. If he
raised the alarm we were done for. We still had our cudgels.
I do not know whose was the offensive. But I do know that the three of
us came together with one accord in a wild and terrible medley of
oaths in two languages and of murderous blows that beat like flails at
the threshing. Simmons and I struggled for the gun which he tried so
hard to turn on us, the dog meanwhile sinking its teeth deep in our
unprotected legs and leaping vainly at our throats; while we felt with
clutching fingers for his master's, intent only that he should not
shout.
In those mad moments there sped through our brains the reel of that
whole horrid film of fifteen months' torture of mind and body; the
pale, blood-covered faces of our murdered comrades of the regiment,
the cries of the patient Russians behind the trees, and our own slow
and deadly starvation and planned mistreatment. All these, and God
only knows what else, should be ours again if we should be recaptured.
We were near to Holland. In fancy and by contrast we saw the fair
English fields and the rolling beauty that is Ontario's; we heard the
good English tongue and beheld the dear faces of our own folk. We bore
that farmer no ill will. And his dog was to the last a very faithful
animal, as our clothes and limbs bore true witness. We had no ropes.
And we were two very desperate men, badly put upon.
We dropped his gun in the bushes, together with the body of his dog;
and passed on. It had not been fired and we had no desire to have the
charge of carrying firearms added to the others against us if, in
spite of all, we should be so unfortunate as to be recaptured.