BACK TO CAMP
After the monotony of the cells and the Strafe-Barrack, the camp
seemed something like getting home for Christmas. All the boys,
McKelvey, Keith, Clarke, Johnston, Graham, Walker, Smith, Reid,
Diplock, Palmer, Larkins, Gould, Salter, Mudge, and many others whom
I did not know so well, gathered around us and wanted to know how we
had fared, and the story of our attempt and subsequent punishment
formed the topic of conversation for days.
All the time we had been in retirement, we were not allowed to write
letters or cards, and I began to fear that my people would be very
anxious about me. I had given cards to returning "strafers" to post,
but I was not sure they had ever got out of Germany. Many parcels had
come for me from other friends, too, and the big problem before me
now was to find some way to acknowledge them. A card a week, and a
letter twice a month, does not permit of a very flourishing
correspondence.
A decent German guard consented to take Bromley and me to the
building where the parcels were kept for men who were in punishment,
and we, being strong in faith, took a wheelbarrow with us. Of course,
we had received a number of parcels through our friend the spy, but
we hoped there would be many more. However, I got only one, a good
one from G. D. Ellis, Weston, England, and that saved me from a hard
disappointment. I saw there, stacked up in a pile, numerous parcels
for Todd, Whittaker, Little Joe, and others, who were serving their
sentences at Butzbach. I reported this to our Sergeant Major, and the
parcels were opened. Some of the stuff was spoiled, but what was in
good condition was auctioned off among us and the money sent to them.
A letter came to me from my sister, Mrs. Ralph Brown, of Buchanan,
Saskatchewan, saying they were worried about me because they had not
heard from me, and were afraid I was not receiving my parcels. Then
I decided I would have to increase my supply of cards. The Russian
prisoners had the same number of cards we had, but seldom wrote any.
Poor fellows, they had nobody to write to, and many of them could not
write. So with the contents of my parcels I bought up a supply of
cards. I had, of course, to write them in a Russian's name, for if
two cards went into the censor's hands from M. C. Simmons, No. 69,
Barrack A, Company 6, something would happen.
So cards went to my friends from "Pte. Ivan Romanoff" or "Pte. Paul
Rogowski," saying he was quite well and had seen M. C. Simmons
to-day, who was grateful for parcel and had not been able to write
lately, but would soon. These rather mystified some of the people who
received them, who could not understand why I did not write directly.
My cousin, Mamie Simmons, and Mrs. Lackie, of Dereham Centre,
Ontario, wrote a letter back to the Russian whose card they had
received, much to his joy and surprise.
One of my great desires at this time was to have a compass, for
Bromley and I were determined to make another attempt at escape, just
as soon as we could, and many an hour I spent trying to find a way
to get the information out to my friends that I wanted a compass. At
last, after considerable thinking, I sent the following card to a
friend of mine with whom I had often worked out puzzles, and who I
felt would be as likely to see through this as any one I could think
of.
This was the message:
DEAR JIM:--I send you this card along with another to come later,
which please pass on to Fred. In next parcel, send cheese, please.
Yours as ever
M. C. SIMMONS
In the address I slipped in the words--"Seaforth Wds." This I hoped
the censor would take to mean--"Seaforth Woods"; and which I hoped my
friend would read to mean--"See fourth words"; and would proceed to
do so.
After I had sent this away, I began to fear it might miscarry and
resolved to try another one. I wrote a letter to my brother Flint,
at Tillsonburg, Ontario, in which I used these words, "I want you
to look into this for me"; later on in the letter, when speaking of
quite innocent matters which had nothing to do with "compasses," I
said, "Look into this for me and if you cannot manage it alone, get
Charley Bradburn to help you."
I took the envelope, which had a bluish tint inside and steamed it
open, both the ends and bottom flap, and when it was laid open, I
wrote in it in a very fine hand, these words: "I tried to escape, but
was caught and my compass taken away from me. Send me another; put it
in a cream cheese."
When the envelope was closed, this was almost impossible to see. I
knew it was risky, for if I had been found out, I would have been
"strafed" for this, just as hard as if I had tried to escape.
However, I posted my letter and heard nothing more about it.
I had, through the kindness of friends, received a number of books,
Mr. Brockington, of Koch Siding, British Columbia, and Miss Grey,
of Wimbledon, England, having been very good to me in this way;
and as many of the parcels of the other boys contained books, too,
we decided to put our books together, catalogue them, and have a
library. One of the older men became our librarian, and before we
left Giessen I think we had a hundred volumes.
The people who sent these books will never know the pleasure they
gave us! The games, too, which the Red Cross sent us were never idle,
and made many a happy evening for us.
At night we had concerts, and many good plays and tableaux put on by
the boys. There was a catchy French love song, "Marie," which was a
great favorite with the boys. From this we began to call the Kilties
"Marie," and there were several harmless fights which had this for a
beginning. The Kilties had a hard time of it, and had to get another
dress before they could be taken on a working party. The Germans did
not consider the kilt a "decent dress" for a man.
The parcels were an endless source of delight, and I was especially
fortunate in having friends who knew just what to send. Mrs. Palmer,
of Plymouth, sent me bacon; Mrs. Goodrich, my sister, and Mrs.
Goodrich, Sr., of Vancouver, sent fruit-cakes; Mrs. Hill, wife of
the British reservist who gave me my first drill in British Columbia,
sent oatmeal, and his sisters, Mrs. Adams and Mrs. Hamer, made candy.
Lee Davison, of Trail, whose brother is now a prisoner in Germany,
sent me tobacco, and so did Harold Andrews, of Trail, and Billy
Newell, of Koch Siding.
The distribution of the mails was a time of thrills. One of the
Sergeants called it out, while every one crowded eagerly around.
Poor Clarke, one of the brightest, merriest-hearted boys we had,
seldom got a letter, but he was right on hand every time, and when
there was no letter for him, would tear his hair dramatically and
cry,--
"Gott strafe England."
Clarke had the good gift of making everybody laugh. I remember once
seeing him patching his trousers with a Union Jack, and singing,
"We'll never let the Old Flag fall!"
* * *
The German respect for the military caste was well shown in the
punishment of a Russian officer who had offended them by something he
had done or had not done. He was sent to our hut--as a punishment. He
had a room to himself, a batman, the privilege of sending out to buy
food, as much as he liked. His punishment consisted in having to live
under the same roof and breathe the same air as common soldiers. He
was a very good fellow, and told us many things about his country.
Incidentally we found out that his wages as a Lieutenant in the
Russian Army were one hundred and fifty dollars a year!
* * *
Bromley and I had not worked at all since coming out of
Strafe-Barrack. Being ring-men gave us immunity from labor. They
would not let us outside of the compound. Even if we volunteered
for a parcel party, the guard would cry "Weg!"--which is to say,
"Go back."
This made all our time leisure time, and I put in many hours making
maps, being as careful as possible not to let the guards see me. I
got the maps in a variety of ways. Some of them had been smuggled in
in parcels, and some of the prisoners had brought them in when they
came.
A Canadian soldier, who was a clever artist, and had a room to
himself where he painted pictures for some of the Germans, gave me
the best one, and from these I got to know quite a lot about the
country. From my last experience I knew how necessary it was to have
detailed knowledge of the country over which we must travel to reach
the border.
My interest in maps caused the boys to suspect that I was determined
to escape, and several broached the subject to me. However, I did not
wish to form an alliance with any one but Bromley. We considered two
was enough, and we were determined to go together.
* * *
One day, in the late fall, when the weather was getting cold, an
American, evidently connected with the Embassy, came to see us, and
asked us about our overcoats. The German officers in charge of the
camp treated him with scant courtesy, and evidently resented his
interference. But as a result of his visit every person who did not
already have a Red Cross or khaki coat got a German coat.
* * *
Just before Christmas Day we got overcoats from the Red Cross, dark
blue cloth, full length and well lined. They had previously sent each
of us a blanket.
The treatment of overcoats was to cut a piece right out of one
sleeve, and insert a piece of yellowish-brown stuff, such as is shown
in Bromley's photograph. We knew that coats were coming for us, and
were particularly anxious to get them before they were disfigured
with the rings which they would put on or with this band of cloth. If
we could get the coats as they came from the Red Cross, they would
look quite like civilian's coats, and be a great help to us when we
made our next escape. Bromley and I had spent hard thinking on how we
could save our coats.
Larkins, one of the boys who worked in the parcels office, watched
for our overcoats, and when they came he slipped them into the stack
which had been censored, and in that way we got them without having
them interfered with. But even then we were confronted with a greater
difficulty. The first time we wore them the guards would notice we
had no rings, and that would lead to trouble. The piece of cloth on
the arm was not so difficult to fix. Two of the boys whose coats were
worn out gave us the pieces out of their coats, which we _sewed on_,
instead of inserting. The rings had been put on in brown paint lately
instead of red, and this gave Bromley an idea. We had a tin of cocoa,
saved from our parcels, and with it we painted rich brown rings on
our new coats. We were careful not to wear these coats, for we knew
the cocoa rings were perishable, but we had our old overcoats to wear
when we needed one. This saw us past the difficulty for a while.
* * *
On Christmas Day we had the privilege of boiling in the cook-house
the puddings which came in our parcels, and we were given a Christmas
card to send instead of the ordinary cards--that was the extent of
the Christmas cheer provided for us.
* * *
Soon after Christmas there was a party of about four hundred picked
out to be sent away from Giessen; the ring-men were included, and all
those who had refused to work or given trouble. Bromley and I were
pretty sure we should be included, and in anticipation of the journey
touched up the cocoa rings on our coats. They were disposed to flake
off. I also prepared for the projected move by concealing my maps.
I put several in the pasteboard of my cap and left no trace, thanks
be to the needle and thread I had bought in the army canteen, and
my big one I camouflaged as a box of cigarettes. A box of Players'
Cigarettes had been sent to me, which I had not yet broken into. I
carefully removed the seal, being careful to break it so that it
could be put back again without detection. Then I cut my map into
pieces corresponding to the size of a cigarette, and, emptying out
the tobacco from a few, inserted the section of map instead, and put
them carefully in with the label showing. I then closed the box and
mended the band so that it looked as if it had not been broken. I
felt fairly safe about this.
[Illustration: The Christmas Card which the Giessen Prison
Authorities supplied to the Prisoners]
The day came when we were to leave. Sometimes Bromley and I were on
the list, sometimes we were not. We did not really know until our
names were called.
Our cocoa rings were fresh and fine, and we walked out with innocent
faces. I don't know why they suspected me, but the Company officer,
with two soldiers, came over to me where I stood at the end of a
double line. At the word from the officer, the soldiers tore off my
pack, opened my coat, examined the rings on my tunic which were,
fortunately, of the durable red paint, guaranteed not to crock or
run. I thought for sure they would search me, which I did not fear at
all, for my maps I considered safe, but I did not want them fooling
around me too much, for my cocoa rings would not stand any rough
treatment. I wished then I had put sugar in the cocoa to make them
stick better.
But after considerable argument, they left me. Just before the
officer walked away, he shook a warning finger at me and said,
"Fini--dead--fertig," which was his French, English, and German for
the game idea: "If you don't behave yourself, you are a dead man!"
He directed the soldiers to keep a strict watch on us, and one of
them volunteered the opinion that we should have rings in our noses!