ADVENTURE NO. 1
After remaining there a week we were told that we should leave the
next morning for Germany, which we should grow to like very much!
During our stay, except for a few exciting intervals when British
machines passed over the town, we had plenty of time for meditation,
and usually when darkness fell could see by the gun flashes that the
evening strafe was in progress. This always reminded me of an argument
which had once taken place in our squadron mess, late one evening
before turning in, during which I had expressed the opinion that
should any one with infantry experience be forced to land the wrong
side just before dark, provided he could avoid Huns, it might be just
possible for him to return the next night through the trenches. Now I
felt it was up to me to prove it should such an opportunity present
itself.
Cambrai citadel is both solid and imposing, and must have proved
itself a formidable fortress. Crowning a slight eminence, it
overlooks most of the town. On the three sides are ramparts, varying
from about twenty to sixty feet in height, while on a fourth it is now
bounded by barbed wire and high railings, with only a slight drop on
the other side. At the main entrance the road crosses the old moat and
passes under a massive archway which adjoins the guardroom. All the
approaches to the outer walls are guarded by quantities of barbed wire
and numerous sentries.
After a thorough search I at last discovered a small round hole in the
wall of an outbuilding near the roof, through which I decided it would
be possible to squeeze, in the dusk, unobserved by the sentry. The new
German coat I had received on the way had been again in its turn
exchanged for an old French one. This I took to the men's quarters
and, finally, after hunting the whole place, found an old German coat
hanging up. After bargaining for some time I made my fourth exchange,
and returned successful. Later in the afternoon an English N.C.O. told
me that he had heard of my search and presented me with an old German
fatigue cap which had been unearthed somewhere by his pals.
Now having everything ready I determined to try my luck about six
o'clock that evening before being shut up for the night. After
learning some new German words likely to be of use, such as "wire
entanglements," "dug-outs," etc., I returned to my room and waited. My
plan was to follow the gun flashes, which in all probability would
lead me to the Bapaume area, where I expected to find some wire or
wooden posts, which I should carry with me as I approached the lines,
and endeavour to avoid suspicion by mingling with working parties as
an engineer. If thus far successful I hoped to repair the German wire
entanglements, which in this district were much damaged by our shell
fire, and eventually slip away and get into touch with our patrols.
At a quarter to six a German flying officer entered our room and
invited me to dinner at their Cambrai headquarters, assuring me that
there would be plenty to eat and drink. (I expect after skilfully
mixed drinks they hoped to loosen my tongue. When a Hun lays himself
out to be pleasant it is almost certain that in some way he expects to
benefit by it.) If you wish to realise how tempting this offer was,
live on a watery starvation diet for eight days and then be given the
opportunity of a good meal. However, when I excused myself on the plea
of being a little unwell, "Mein freund" was quite non-plussed. While
he was still trying to extract information, unsuccessfully, from the
others, I left the room after pocketing a slice of bread.
Once in the outhouse I chose my time and, climbing up to the hole in
the wall, squeezed myself through with difficulty, for it was only
just large enough. When the sentry's back was turned I dropped to the
ground on the other side, about ten feet below, making considerable
noise. I was now past the line of barbed wire, but there still
remained the ramparts to negotiate. Never having been able to see over
this point from our quarters we had no means of ascertaining the drop
to the ground below. The corner of the ramparts I was making for was
under forty yards away, but it took me about three-quarters of an hour
to get there, crawling on crackling dry leaves under the shadow of the
wall. The slightest noise would probably have attracted the sentry's
attention and caused him to switch on the electric light, which they
all carry slung round their necks. Oh! what a noise those leaves made!
Just before I got to the wall I heard rather a commotion outside the
guardroom, and although expecting to get at least a night's start
before my absence was discovered, concluded that I had already been
missed. (Afterwards I found that this was indeed the case, as the
German flying officer on leaving had told the commandant that I was
unwell; a doctor was then sent up, but I could not be found.) Getting
up, I ran to the wall and looked over. In the dusk I faintly
distinguished some bushes below. The glance was not reassuring, but
"the die was cast," and over I went. I shall always remember that
horrible sensation of falling. It took longer than I expected to reach
the ground. Instantaneously there flashed through my brain a formula I
had learnt at school, _i.e._, that an object falling increases its
velocity thirty-two feet per second. I now realised for the first time
how true it was. The drop was somewhere between twenty and thirty
feet. Just near the ground my fall was broken by my being suspended
for the fraction of a second on some field telephone wires, which
broke and deposited me in the centre of a laurel bush, which split in
half with a crash. It is not so much the fall but the sudden stop
which does the damage. My breath being knocked out of me and seeing
several floating stars of great brilliance, I vaguely wondered if I
were dead, but I was considerably relieved to find that this was not
the case. No bones broken, only some bruises. As I was getting to my
feet I heard some one coming down a gravel path which passed beside
me. Crouching down, I saw it was a civilian, who proceeded to light a
cigar and passed on. I followed suit by lighting my one and only
cigarette, and after cutting a stick, entered a darkened street,
externally a perfectly good Hun.
But even German soldiers are subject to restrictions and I might be
asked questions. Consequently, my one idea was to get out of the town
as quickly as possible. I met two French women, to whom I explained my
position, and asked the nearest way into the country. They were
frightened and unwilling to talk at first, but when I opened my coat
and showed them the British uniform underneath, they pointed to a road
which I followed. Soon the town was left behind and I was making for
the gun-flashes and crossing a turnip field. Swinging along at a good
pace the turnip-tops whipped my boots and made quite a noise. Suddenly
a challenge rang out from a small railway bridge. "_Halt! Wer da!_"
(On these occasions it seems as if one's heart has been put to the
wrong use, it being really fashioned to be a pendulum for a
grandfather clock.) The next second an electric light was switched on,
but I had already fallen among the turnips, endeavouring to make a
noise like one (a turnip). Then ensued an interesting silence fraught
with many possibilities. Did the turnip's voice deceive the Hun? At
any rate the light was soon turned off, much to my relief; then
quietly I slipped away. After about an hour's walking across country I
came to what I supposed to be a stream, showing up in the moonlight,
with a few bushes growing along the side. Walking parallel to it for a
few yards and not seeing a bridge, I thought it might be quite
shallow, so tested it with a stick. Imagine my pleasant surprise when
I found that it was not water at all, but a narrow white concrete
path, evidently newly made. I noticed that nearly all roads running
parallel to the front had a very deep trench dug on the east (German)
side. Presumably, these were later used considerably when we were
engaged in shelling the roads. Soon I came to the Cambrai Canal, which
had to be crossed, and as it was the middle of November it gave me the
shivers even to look at the dark water. After walking some distance
down the tow-path, I encountered a Hun. Though not feeling at all bold
I said, "_G'nacht_," which I felt sounded feeble, though I knew it to
be the correct thing in some parts of Germany. To this he replied,
"_Abend_" (evening). (Quite a valuable lesson in the usual custom
among soldiers.)
Skirting a few houses and a timber yard I approached a large
well-built iron railway bridge spanning the canal. Climbing over some
barbed wire I cautiously mounted the embankment. Looking along the
bridge I saw there were two lines separated by some arched iron
girders. From recent experience I knew that this must be strongly
guarded, but reasoned that if I closely followed a train I should in
all probability find the line free for a few seconds. Presently a
freight train came rumbling along, and I rushed after it in a whirl of
air, in my haste almost being knocked down by the end carriages. As
the bridge was rather long and the train going fast, in a very short
time I was being left stranded. When I was nearing the other side I
stopped an instant to listen. It was just as well I did. Not more than
three yards away, on the other side of the ironwork, a man spoke in
German and was immediately answered by another, who turned on his
light and commenced walking towards the end of the bridge I was making
for, to return to his old beat on my line. There was no time to lose,
so rushing back on tip-toe and down the embankment I fell over the
barbed wire at the bottom, which painfully impressed on me its
disapproval of my conduct.
After following the canal for a few hundred yards there seemed no
alternative but to swim across, so in I went, greatcoat and all. It
was awfully cold. At first my clothes and fleeced-lined flying boots
held the air and supported me, so that I lay on the surface of the
water as if bathing in the Dead Sea, feeling very ridiculous. But only
too soon everything filled up and I felt like a stone. Swimming as
silently as possible, I had almost reached the opposite bank, feeling
very tired, when I saw something glisten just in front which looked
very like a bayonet, and a man's voice shouted "_Hier_." Picture the
situation: a dark but starry November night, Hun sentry guarding
barges, and a poor wretch floundering about in the water, then you
will not be surprised that my heart after jumping into my mouth,
worked overtime again! The Hun thought I was a dog; I must be one
without delay if I wished to preserve a whole skin, so after a
spluttering growl I turned back with new energy, swimming like a dog
and whining softly. After again calling to me several times he threw a
few things in my direction, which fortunately went wide. I then swam
round a barge and with a great effort pulled myself out of the water,
rewarding the Hun, who was now calling a friend, with a final bark. I
ran across a field with the water pouring from me. I did not think one
could be so cold, an icicle was warm in comparison! With numb fingers
I wrung some of the water out of my clothes, and with chattering teeth
considered the situation. Here I was, still on the wrong side--the
only thing left to try was a village bridge. Again following the
tow-path I neared some lights, which proved to be a hospital, and
found myself in an apparently unoccupied station-yard, among a number
of large heaps. On raising a corner of a tarpaulin which covered the
nearest I recognised the familiar wicker crates, which contained
something heavy. It was an ammunition dump! I soon found the name of
the station on the deserted platform--Mannièrs.
As I was leaving the dump, thinking of a possible future, and what a
lovely explosion one well-directed bomb would make, I heard some one
coming towards me. At once hopping off the road I crouched against one
of the shell heaps where the darkness was more dense, my weight
causing the wicker to creak. But the seemingly deaf individual passed
by and I breathed again. Entering the main village street at a good
pace, whistling a German tune, I was accosted by two Huns carrying a
heavy basket on a stick. One inquired of me the way to some
headquarters. I dared not stop, so turning my head, growled out a
sullen "_Ich weiss nicht_" (I don't know). They seemed grieved at my
bad manners, but were soon left behind. Although it was very late a
number of troops were still singing uproariously in the various
estaminets which I passed. On turning a corner I saw the village
bridge and on it a sentry box. While I stood in the dark shadow of a
house a small party of Germans, carrying saddlery, overtook me.
Tacking myself on casually behind some of them we all passed over the
bridge quite happily, and feeling in a cheeky mood I wished the sentry
"good evening."
Once more I was passing swiftly over the country, devoutly hoping
there would not be any more canals. Several hours passed uneventfully.
Some of the concrete paths leading in the right direction afforded
excellent walking. They were mostly new and appeared to be only laid
on the mud without any foundation. On a small rise I came upon a
trench system under construction (probably the now famous Hindenburg
line), which I examined. The few dug-outs I saw were incomplete, the
trenches rather wet and shallow and not yet sandbagged. After crossing
two lines of more or less continuous trenches I inspected the wire
entanglements, wooden posts (charred, so as not to show up in aerial
photographs) and iron corkscrews which were already in position, but
only a little fine and barbed wire as yet, which was quite easy to get
through. Although the firing had died down it continued sufficiently
to enable me to keep my direction. Just as I was leaving these
trenches behind my progress was arrested by a sudden jerk, and I found
myself lying face downwards full length in the mud. A carefully laid
wire had tripped its first "Engländer"! I was now plastered with mud
from head to foot, and getting up in a very bad temper determined that
at least that portion of wire should not interfere with another
Britisher. After a short struggle I succeeded in tearing it up and
went on my way somewhat appeased.
The front was now quite quiet, and after many falls, footsore and
tired, I came to a large wood (the Bois de Logeost) a little before
dawn. In this I hoped to find cover for the day, but it was full of
transport, and many dim lights proclaimed the presence of huts. I had
been walking parallel to it for some distance when a British aeroplane
dropped some bombs too close to be pleasant, causing quite a stir in
the wood, shortly followed by an anti-aircraft gun opening fire not
far away. I have never felt so small in my life, and while tramping on
in a dejected manner, in imagination I was flying once again over the
lines, the occupied territory lying below me like a map: but in spite
of the tranquillity of the scene (for in this pleasant dream not a gun
was in action) I became conscious of a disturbing element somewhere,
something was out of place. To what was it due? Then all at once I
realised that it was all connected with an infinitesimal object which
wandered aimlessly about among the German batteries, and yet attracted
every one's attention. Vaguely I wondered what it could be? Then the
dream slowly faded, and as reality took its place I knew that I was
that atom! When things were quiet again I distinctly heard plonk,
plonk, plonk, the sound made by hand grenades, rising from the lower
ground in front, this was soon followed by the fainter cracking of a
machine gun and a brilliant Verey light, which I concluded was from
three to four miles away. All at once, just beside me, there was a
blinding flash, immediately followed by a deafening roar and the
screaming hiss of a shell, the latter lasting several seconds, then
slowly dying away into the night with a sigh. One of the German
heavies had fired from a neighbouring clump of trees. Had my skin been
any looser I should certainly have jumped out of it. Very soon I heard
the distant explosion of the bursting shell--Cr--ump, and then dashed
off in the opposite direction.