THE CELLS!
On the morning of the fifth day two cells were reported empty, and
we were taken to them.
The cells are in a wooden building inside the camp, and in the
building we were in there were ten of them, divided from each other
by wooden partitions whose cracks are battened with strips of wood to
prevent light from coming through. There are two windows, one over
the door and one in the outside wall. These have a solid wooden door
which can be shut over them, excluding every ray of light.
The cells are about six feet by eight in size, and have a wooden
platform to sleep on. There is no bedding of any kind. There is one
shelf, on which a pitcher of drinking-water stands, and there is an
electric button by which the guard can be called.
We were allowed to keep all our clothing, including our overcoats,
and I managed to hold on to a stub of a pencil and a piece of stout
string.
When the guard brought me in and told me to "make myself at home" or
words to that effect, and went out, locking the door, I sat down on
the wooden platform, and looked around.
It was as black as the infernal regions--I might as well have had my
eyes shut, for all I could see. However, I kept on looking. There was
no hurry--I had time to spare. I had more time than I had ever had
before.
Soon I noticed that in the partition at my right there was a place
where the darkness was broken, and a ray of light filtered through.
As I watched it, into the light spot there came two glistening points
which looked very much like a pair of eyes.
I did not move, for I could hear the guards moving up and down the
gangway, but I could hardly wait until I heard the gates of the
gangway close. Then I went to the crack and whispered.
"Hello!"
"Hello!" came back the answer; and looking through the crack I saw
a lighted cell, and in it a man, the owner of the two bright eyes I
had seen.
"What are you?" came a whisper.
"Canadian," I answered; "in for trying to escape."
By putting my ear to the crack, I could hear when he whispered.
"I am a Frenchman," he said in perfect English; "Malvoisin is my
name, and this is my second attack of cells--for escaping--but I'll
make it yet. Have you the rings? No? Well, you'll get them. Look at
me."
I could see that his uniform had stripes of bright red wagon paint
on the seams, and circles of it on the front of the tunic and on
his trousers, with a large one on the back of the tunic between the
shoulders.
"You'll get these when you get into the Strafe-Barrack," he said.
"How long shall I be there?" I asked.
"Nobody knows," he answered. "If they like you, they may keep you!
It's an indeterminate sentence.... That's a good cell you have. I was
in that cell the last time, and I fixed it up a little."
"What did you do to it?" I asked.
"There's a built-in cupboard over at the other side, where you can
keep your things!"
"Things!" I said--"what things? I've nothing but a pencil and a
string."
"The boys will bring you stuff," he said; and then he gave me
instructions.
"Write a note," he said. "Here's a piece of paper," shoving a
fragment of newspaper through the crack. "Write a note addressed to
one of your friends, tell him you are in cells, but get out every day
to lavatory in Camp 8--they'll bring you food, and books."
"Books!" I said. "What good would books be to me in this black hole?"
"I am just coming to that," he whispered back; "there's a crack like
this with a movable batten over on the other side. You can stand on
the platform, pull down the strip of wood, and get in quite a decent
light from the other cell. It is a light cell like mine; and right
above it you'll find the board that is loose in the ceiling; you can
pull it down and slip your book into the space and then let it up
again."
I stepped over to the other side, and found everything just as he
said. Life grew brighter all at once, and the two weeks of "cells"
were robbed of a great part of their terror.
I set to work to pull a nail with my cord, and was able to do
it after considerable labor, but there was no hurry at all. It
all helped to put the long hours in! With the nail I made the
reading-crack larger, in anticipation of the books which were to
come, but was careful not to have it too big for the strip of wood
to cover when it was swung back into place.
When morning came I got my issue of bread, the fifth part of a small
round loaf, which was my allowance for the day. Then for ten minutes
we all swept out our cells and were taken out to the lavatory. I had
my note ready, and when the guard was not looking, slipped it into
the hand of a Frenchman who was standing near me.
The lavatory was in the same building as Camp 8 Lavatory, and was
divided from theirs by a wall with an opening in it, through which
parcels might be passed between the strands of barbed wire.
The Frenchman delivered my note quite safely, and the next morning I
found several little packages on the floor of the lavatory. Bromley
and I managed to get out at the same time, and as the guard did not
understand English, we were able to say a few words to each other.
The boys sent us things every day--chocolate, biscuits, cheese,
cigarettes, matches, and books. We wore our overcoats to the lavatory
each day, so we could use the pockets to carry back our parcels
without detection. We were also careful to leave nothing in the cell
that would attract the attention of the guard, and Malvoisin and I
conserved matches by lighting one cigarette with the other one,
through the crack.
Bromley had no reading-crack in his room, but with a nail and string
soon made himself one.
Standing on the platform, I could open the reading-crack and get
several inches of light on my book. I read three or four books in
this way, too, making them last just as long as I could.
On the fourth day I had light in my cell. The two windows were opened
and the cell was aired. On the light day I got more to eat, too,
coffee in the morning, and soup in the evening. On that night I had
a mattress and blankets, too.
Toward the end of my two weeks I had hard luck. The cell next to
mine, on which I depended for the light to read by, was darkened. I
was right in the middle of "The Harvester." I tried it by the crack
between my cell and that of Malvoisin, but the light was too dim and
made my eyes ache. However, after two days a light-cell prisoner was
put in, and I was able to go on with my story.
Malvoisin did all he could to make my punishment endurable. On
account of his cell being lighted, he could tell, by the sunlight
on the wall, what time it was, and passed it on to me, and when I
couldn't read because the cell next to mine was dark, he entertained
me with the story of his adventures--and they were many!
His last escape had been a marvellous one--all but the end. When
outside of the grounds, on a digging party, he had entertained the
guards so well, by showing them fancy steps in dancing, that they had
not noticed that he was circling closer and closer to a wood. Then,
when he had made some grotesque movement, which sent the staid
German guards into paroxysms of laughter, he had made a dash for the
wood. The soldiers at once surrounded the place, but Malvoisin had
gone up a tree. The guards fired through the woods, calling on him
to surrender, while he sat safe and happy in one of the highest
branches, watching the search for him. The searching of the wood
continued for two days, but he remained in his nest in the tree,
coming down at night to get the food he had buried in the ground
while on the digging party.
They gave up the search then, and he started for Switzerland. He got
a suit of painter's clothes at one place--overalls and smock--by
going through a window where the painters had been working, and with
his knowledge of German was passing himself off for a painter, and
working toward home. But his description was in the newspapers, and
a reward offered for his capture. His brilliant black eyes and the
scar on his cheek gave him away, and one of his fellow-workmen became
suspicious, and for the sake of the reward notified the military.
But he said he would be sure to reach home next time!
He had a week longer punishment than we had, and so when our two
weeks were up we left him there.
When I said "Good-bye" to him through the crack, and tried to tell
him how much he had done for me, he laughed light-heartedly and
called back, "Good-bye, old man, I'll meet you in Paris--if not
sooner!"