BOUND FOR CREFELD
At the end of February we were surprised by a visit from two
representatives of the American Embassy, to whom we poured forth our
woes, and who declared their views pretty strongly as to the conditions
in which they found us. The assault by the commandant on a defenceless
French officer was fully narrated to them, also the fact that officers
had been fired on inside the fortress whilst lying out in the
earthworks. The American representatives made every effort with the
commandant to procure more coal for heating our cells, also greater
space for exercise, asking permission for us to again use the interior
exercise-grounds X and Y, periodically closed to us as a general
_strafe_, and permanently closed to us after the attempted escape of the
British officers over the frozen moat.
Strangely enough, we were allowed to see the commission alone, but after
our interview they proceeded to the commandant, who took them across to
the so-called theatre or music-room, where doubtless the commandant went
into raptures over the beauties and utilities of the theatre, forgetting
to explain that we were not allowed into it and that the door was kept
locked, so that possibly the commission went away with the feeling that
after all the Boches were trying to make up for the awful conditions
existent in the fortress by giving us the use of an improvised theatre.
The amount of eyewash prepared in camps for a visit of any sort, either
neutral or Boche, was extremely humorous to me. A camp would get busy
like a hive for a couple of days before the visit, sweeping and cleaning
in every corner, so that general conditions would improve for a day or
two, and immediately after the visits they would lapse back into the old
conditions of filth.
During the last few months an escaping scheme on a large scale had been
under way from a cell quite close to my own. After many months of
terrific manual labour a tunnel running from beneath the floor of the
cell to the edge of the moat had been brought to successful completion.
On the day of the night chosen for the attempt the never-ending bad luck
of the escapers again ruined all these carefully laid plans. A large
sewage-cart containing an enormous iron cylinder visited the camp for
the purpose of pumping out the latrines. In order to reach these
latrines the sewage-cart had to pass over the strip of ground dividing
the cells of the fortress from the moat, and in so doing passed over the
underground tunnel, which at this place was not more than three feet
beneath the surface of the earth; and although the tunnel had been
strengthened with every possible kind of wood torn from every hole and
corner inside the fortress, the weight of the cart was too much for it,
and a deep rut showed in the ground after the cart had passed. This
might have escaped the eye of the sentry on beat at this place, had not
the cart passed over exactly the same spot on its return journey, thus
causing a depression, which rapidly sank to about a foot deep. The
sentry did not fail to see it, and the fact was reported to the quarter
guard, whose investigation with picks and shovels soon revealed the
truth, so that another accidental discovery was added to the list. When
we found that no attempt had been made to drain the latrines for over
two years, the extraordinary bad luck became a hundred times more
exasperating to bear.
At the end of March I was suddenly called up to interview General Peter,
the commandant of the military district of Ingolstadt. He addressed me
very civilly, which was not his wont, and told me that I, along with two
other British officers, was going to be removed to the best camp in
Germany, owing to our exemplary behaviour and gentlemanly conduct. I
saluted and departed to inform my comrades in my cell, where laughter
overcame me. My exemplary behaviour! when everybody in the fortress knew
that I had been described by the commandant as one of the most
“dangerous characters” in the camp. Of course my mind instantly sought
for the reason which had caused the Boches to decide on sending me away,
and it was not long before I discovered it. I immediately consulted my
French pal, and the two of us put our heads together and paid a visit to
the commandant, but found no clue there. We then proceeded to the
so-called _Krankenstube_ (or sick-room). Seeing a lot of new medicines,
I asked the orderly who they were for. He replied that the Swiss
Commission was paying us a visit in a few days. The reasons of my
removal to another and better camp were immediately explained. A great
many inquiries had been made from home to the Swiss Commission regarding
my case and the reason why I had not been sent to Switzerland on the
last visit of the commission. The Boches, knowing this, had no intention
that the commission should find me still an inmate of such a hell-hole
as Fort 9, Ingolstadt.
On the morning of the 3rd of April, or two days after old General Peter
had told me I was to be sent to a nice camp because I had been a “good
boy,” orders to pack up my goods and chattels came from the commandant.
My baggage had by this time grown to a very considerable bulk--my own
spring-bed, folding camp-chair, box of food-stuffs, cooking utensils,
blankets, clothing, etc. The luggage had to be in the packet-room by
three o’clock, in order that it might undergo the usual searching
process. Immediately it was generally known in the camp that we were
leaving Ingolstadt on the morrow, and that our luggage was to be sent to
the packet-room by three o’clock, I received dozens of applications from
the ever-watchful prisoners for permission to try to sneak out in my
baggage. Permission was given to the first two applicants, French and
English majors, one of whom occupied cell 42 with me. Two large hamper
washing-baskets were borrowed from some Russian and French officers.
Into these the two escapers were pushed, with blankets and clothing on
top of them, and a cunning arrangement by which the padlock could be
slipped from the inside.
The two hampers, together with my boxes and those of the other two
officers accompanying me, were carried by ourselves at the appointed
time to the packet-room, where each officer opened his own boxes in
front of the examining Boche N.C.O., who made a quick search of each
box. In this case the two other officers had their luggage examined
first; then came my turn. By this time he had grown a bit slack, and
when he had gone through my three boxes he was still more so. The two
baskets were left till the last. These were opened in their turn, and I
began hauling out the top blankets. With a wave of the hand the N.C.O.
said “Good,” and the hampers were passed, as had been calculated upon.
After this the N.C.O. called in some French orderlies, and gave
directions for our luggage to be heaped up in a corner by itself.
Unfortunately they placed one of the basket-hampers on the top of the
other, which proved in the end to be the undoing of the whole affair.
The luggage having been passed, the packet-room was closed for the
night, and there seemed to be a very fair chance that the escapers might
be successful in at least getting out of the fortress. At 5 p.m. the
usual guard was mounted outside the packet-room door, and all went well
till about 7 p.m., when the escapers in the baskets essayed to get out
of these in order to relieve the agonies of cramp which had naturally
overtaken them in their confined position. There was no reason at all
why they should spend the night in the baskets, as the packet-room would
not be opened till seven o’clock the following morning. Even if a chance
visit should happen to be paid to the room, there was plenty of material
to hide behind amongst the general debris of packets and bales which
covered the floor. With this in view the officer in the upper basket
tried to get out with the least possible noise. To raise the lid from
the inside was easy, as before explained, but to get out noiselessly was
quite another matter, since any movement in the basket above was
registered by a loud creaking from the basket below, and before the two
officers had succeeded in extricating themselves the suspicions of the
sentry outside had been aroused, a search was instituted, and the plot
discovered.
Returning to my own position, I now expected to receive a notification
from the commandant that my removal to another camp was cancelled, owing
to the fact that I had helped these two officers to escape in my
luggage; but no such order was issued, which proved to me more strongly
than ever that the authorities at Ingolstadt were most anxious to get
rid of me for some very good reason, which I surmised was the expected
visit of the Swiss Commission. Information now came through to us from
one of the French orderlies that a party of officers, collected from all
the other prison camps in and around Ingolstadt, was being sent to the
camp at Crefeld on the following day. This information had been come by
during a parley between the orderly and another French orderly, who had
arrived at the fortress the preceding day from one of the camps which
was being broken up. We felt pretty certain, therefore, that our
destination would also be Crefeld, since we were all going on the same
day; also, if old General Peter had spoken the truth, it must be
Crefeld, as he had said it was the best camp in Germany.
That night we received orders to be ready to start at five o’clock the
next morning, and I had much to do and certain arrangements to make with
the friends I was about to leave behind me, in case I should succeed in
making good my escape. For many months past I had wearied of Ingolstadt
and its appalling conditions, but now that I had actually to move off on
the morrow a certain sense of loss to come and a feeling of extreme
depression overcame me at leaving these good fellows. The camp was
bad--nothing could be worse; but, still, the idea was borne in upon me,
“Better to bear the ills we have,” etc.; and God only knew what the
future might have in store for me. One becomes extraordinarily attached
to those of one’s fellow-beings with whom one has passed through great
ordeals.
However, enough of the sentimental. Some of my pals were laying bets
between themselves as to whether I should succeed in making my escape or
not, and I’m sure those who lost did so with the greatest pleasure. At
4.30 the next morning the three of us were sent for by the commandant,
and went through the usual search, which we all passed quite
satisfactorily. All the same, a small corrugated iron spring, knife, bit
of a screwdriver, compass, and electric torch escaped the watchful eyes
of the Boches: I don’t propose to say how, as it only gives valuable
information to the enemy.
At 5.30 a.m. we shook the dust of the fortress from our feet. As before
explained, there were three of us, and we had to walk over eight
kilometres to the station. We had been ordered to take everything
necessary for three days in the shape of food, clothing, etc., so the
kindly Boches gave us a couple of orderlies to carry our hand luggage. I
suppose I should have been both surprised and grateful at having any
help at all, but really it was only a case of half a loaf being better
than no bread, since two orderlies could not possibly carry the amount
of our hand luggage; consequently we had a very hot and tiring walk,
carrying the baggage on our shoulders, our guards making no effort to
help. However, we did eventually arrive at the station, perspiring
freely, although it was freezing at the time. At the station we were
surprised to see a large dray loaded with luggage that looked very
English, which turned out to belong to a party of officers we discovered
at the station. There were about twenty-five of them, as well as I can
remember, consisting of a collection from all the camps in and around
Ingolstadt.
Many inquiries were made when they found that we had just come from the
notorious Fort No. 9. We learnt from these officers that we were bound
for a camp called Crefeld, quite close to the Dutch frontier, and
supposed to be the best camp in Germany. Satisfaction on going so near
the frontier showed on many faces. About 7 a.m. our train arrived, and a
second-class carriage was allotted to us by the German officer in charge
of the party. Our guard consisted of this officer, who was a coarse
bullet-headed Bavarian lieutenant, and about nine men, if I remember
aright, all of them being fully armed and evidently warned to keep their
eyes skinned. The Boche officer numbered us off and allotted so many
officers to each compartment, together with one guard to each batch.
When he came to us he said, “Oh yes, Fort 9; you will be in a
compartment by yourselves,” and he told off three guards to watch us.
This was not at all satisfactory, and looked very bad for our venture.
However, there was no circumventing it, and the only thing was to
accept the situation with the best grace possible and trust to our
brains to outwit the three guards.
Towards 7.30 the train pulled out, at which I drew a breath of relief,
feeling that Fort 9 at least was behind me, and in front enormous
possibilities of escape. For the first time during two and a half years
I was more or less fit; I was in a train travelling towards the northern
frontier of Germany; every mile drew it and home nearer, and I had the
delightful sensation that the German Government was about to be made to
pay for at least a good part of my road towards home, travelling
comfortably in a second-class railway compartment. That I was going to
make good my escape from the train I was firmly convinced, although the
circumstances of our disposition among the guards did not for the moment
look very hopeful; but there was a sort of something in the air, excited
quiverings running up and down my spine.
To carry out our project of ingratiating ourselves with our guards was a
matter of immediate importance, since we could never tell how soon our
chance might come. Accordingly we started by falling into amicable
conversation with them, which was carried on with the aid of signs and a
few words in broken French and German, only a very few German words
being used, in order not to excite any suspicions that we could
understand their conversation. In this manner we learnt one or two small
points of interest: firstly, that we were not expected to arrive at our
destination till the evening of the next day, also that the camp we were
bound for was indeed Crefeld.
By about eight o’clock the ball started rolling in good earnest, when
one of the guards suddenly said, “Der Kriegs nicht gut.” We agreed that
war was hell and that we wanted to be back with our families in peace
and with plenty to eat again, for there was “viel essen” in England; to
which they replied, “Kein essen in Deutschland,” and we answered that
the prisoner of war felt the want of food in Germany more than the
German soldiers did, but that we received plenty from home, so we did
very well, at which I opened my suit-case and displayed to the greedy
eyes of the Huns a whole lot of tinned meats of various kinds. This was
a fine opportunity to cement our friendship, so we started to prepare a
good sound breakfast of tongue and chicken, in which we succeeded in
getting them to join us; they offered us a share of hot coffee from
their water-bottles, and we all fairly settled down to it. Alas! with
what pain I saw my limited food slipping down the Hun throats; but it
was our best policy, and I must say that succeeding events justified us
in giving them a decent meal. Two of the guards were now sufficiently at
their ease to surrender to comfort, unfastening their belts and putting
their rifles on the racks; the third, however, kept his rifle handy,
but I do not think with any idea that it might be necessary. After
breakfast we all had a little snooze--at least we pretended to. Two of
the Boches certainly dropped off for a little while.
About midday we arrived at a station, where the carriages were shunted,
during which time we were allowed to stretch our legs on the platform
and get some hot coffee from a stall which was not too awfully bad.
Whilst we were bartering for the coffee a train pulled up at another
platform, bringing in a quantity of newspapers for the day, over which
there seemed to be a general hubbub of excitement; a few were brought to
our platform, and we tried to bag one surreptitiously without success,
but not before the headlines of the paper had been read by one or two of
us. The news caused just as much excitement amongst ourselves as it had
amongst the Boches, being no less than the official declaration of war
by the United States. In ordinary times this would have given us a
topic of conversation for months, but for the present we had other fish
to fry, and we soon forgot all about it; at the same time we all felt
excessively elated by the downcast, morose aspect of the Boche civilians
at the railway station.