CAUGHT AGAIN
The bridge was a fine iron one without lights. The road which led
to it was not much travelled, and it looked as if it might carry us
over--without accident. Anyway, it was our only chance.
We walked on to the bridge, taking care to make no noise, and
striking a gait that was neither slow nor fast.
We were nine tenths of the way over the bridge, with hope springing
in our tired hearts at each step. Away to the west, straight ahead of
us, distant lights twinkled. We thought they were in Holland, and
they beckoned to our tired hearts like the lights of home.
We were only about ten feet from the other side of the bridge,
when... suddenly a light was flashed on us, a great dazzling light
that seemed to scorch and wither us. It seemed to burn our
prison-clothes into our very souls. I'm sure the rings on my knees
showed through my overcoat!
Into the circle of light three German soldiers came, with rifles
levelled.
They advanced upon us until their bayonets were touching us. And
again we saw our dream of freedom fade!
The soldiers took us in charge and marched us to Lathen, a town near
by, where part of the hotel was used as barracks. They showed us no
hostility; it was just part of their day's work to gather in escaping
prisoners.
There was a map on the wall, and when they asked us where we came
from, we showed them Canada on the map of the North American
Continent. They were decent-looking young fellows and asked us many
questions about Canada.
Although it was about midnight there seemed to be people on the
streets, which were brilliantly lighted. A Sergeant Major came in,
with a gendarme, who had two women with him. They were well-dressed
looking women, but I kept wondering what they were doing out so late.
The Sergeant Major and the policeman lacked the friendliness of the
privates, and the former began the conversation by saying, "England
ist kaputt." The Sergeant Major repeated his statement, with greater
emphasis, and I put more emphasis on my reply, and there we stuck! It
did not seem that we could get any farther. It seemed a place to say,
"Time will tell."
The gendarme was a coarse, beer-drinking type, and I kept wondering
how two such fine-looking women came to be with him. The younger and
handsomer one was not his wife, I knew--he was so attentive to her.
The other one may have been, though she was evidently his superior
in every way. Still, even in our own country very fine women are
sometimes careless about whom they marry.
The Sergeant Major poured out a volume of questions in German, to
which we replied, "Nix forstand."
Then the gendarme thought something was being overlooked, and he
suggested that we be searched. I was afraid of that, and had taken
the precaution of hiding the compass as well as I could, by putting
it in the bottom of the pasteboard box that held our shaving-stick.
The stick had been worn down, leaving room for the compass at the
bottom of the box.
The soldier who searched us did not notice the compass, and handed
the shaving-stick back to me, and I breathed easier. But the gendarme
had probably done more searching than the soldier, and asked me for
it. He immediately let the stick fall out, and found the compass,
which he put in his pocket, with a wink at the others... and it was
gone.
All our little articles were taken from us and put into two parcels,
which we were allowed to carry, but not keep, and which were
eventually returned to us, and, whether it was done by carelessness
or not I do not know, but by some fortunate circumstance my maps were
left in my pay-book case and put in the package, but I did not see
them until after my punishment was over.
[Illustration: Map made from Paper which came in a Parcel, wrapped
around a Fruit-Cake / Notice the stain caused by the cake. This is
the map that was hidden in the cigarette-box]
My notebook attracted the attention of the gendarme, and he took
it from me. I had made entries each day, and these he read aloud,
translating them into German as he went, much to the apparent
entertainment of the two women, who laughed at him, with a forced
gaiety which confirmed my diagnosis of their relationship. I think
he was crediting me with entries I had never made, for the central
figure seemed to be one "Rosie Fräulein," whom I did not have the
pleasure of meeting.
We could see that although the privates were friendly, there was no
semblance of friendliness in either the gendarme or the Sergeant
Major. I think they would have gladly shot us on the spot--if they
had dared. They were pronounced cases of anglophobia.
The gendarme at last broke out into English, cutting his words off
with a snarl:
"What do you fellows want to get back for anyway? England is no good!
England is a liar, and a thief."
When he said this, I could see Edwards's face grow white and his eyes
glitter. He was breathing hard, like a man going up a steep hill, and
his hands were opening and closing. He walked over to the gendarme
and glared in his face,--"What do I want to get back for?" he
repeated in a steady voice, stretched tight like a wire, "I'll tell
you--this is not any ordinary war, where brave men fight each other.
This is a war against women and children and old men. I have fought
with the Boers in Africa, but I bore them no ill-will--they fought
like men and fought with men. I've been through Belgium--I've seen
what you have done. I have boys of my own--little fellows--just
like the ones you cut the hands off--and I will tell you why I want
to get back--I want to serve my country and my God--by killing
Germans--they're not fit to live!"
The women drew back in alarm, though I do not think they understood
the words. Instinctively I drew up beside Edwards, for I thought it
was the end; but to our surprise the brutal face of the gendarme
relaxed into a broad grin, and he turned to the women and Sergeant
Major and made some sort of explanation. We did not know what was
coming, and then a controversy took place between the two men as to
what should be done with us. The gendarme wanted to take us, but the
ladies protested, and at last we were led away by the two privates,
carrying our two little packages of belongings.
We went into an adjoining room, where a coal fire burned in a small
round heater, whose glow promised comfort and warmth. The privates
very kindly brought us a drink of hot coffee and some bread, and
pulled two mattresses beside the stove and told us to go to sleep.
Then they went out and brought back blankets, and with friendly looks
and smiles bade us good-night, incidentally taking our shoes with
them.
"The Germans are a spotty race," said Ted, as we lay down. "Look at
these two fellows--and then think of those two mugs that any decent
man would want to kill at sight!"--He pointed to the room where we
had left the gendarme and the Sergeant Major. "Oh--wouldn't I enjoy
letting a bit of daylight through that policeman's fat carcass!"
Next morning, when we awakened, our guards came again and brought us
some more coffee and bread. It was a bright morning, of sunshine,
with a frost which glistened on the pavement and the iron railing
surrounding the building we were in.
The streets were full of people, and streamers of bunting festooned
the buildings. Children were on the streets, carrying flags, and the
place had a real holiday appearance.
"Suppose this is all in our honor, Sim," Ted said as he looked out of
the window. "I wonder how they knew we were coming--we really did not
intend to."
One of the guards, who had a kodak and was taking pictures of the
celebration, asked us if he could take our pictures. So we went out
to the front door, which was hung with flags, and had a picture
taken.
"What are the flags up for?" we asked him.
"It is the birthday of the All-Highest," he replied proudly.
Ted said to me, so the guard could not hear, "Well, the old man has
my sincere wishes--that it may be his last."
During the forenoon we were taken by rail to Meppen. The Sergeant
Major came with us, but did not stay in the compartment with the
guards and us. On the way the guard who had taken our photograph
showed us the proof of it, and told us he would send us one, and
had us write down our addresses. He must have been a photographer
in civil life, for he had many splendid pictures with him, and
entertained us by showing them to us. I remember one very pretty
picture of his young daughter, a lovely girl of about fourteen years
of age, standing under an apple-tree.
Before the Sergeant Major handed us over to the military authorities
at Meppen, he told them what Edwards had said about wanting to go
back to kill Germans, but he did not tell all that Edwards had said.
However, they treated us politely and did not seem to bear us any
ill-will.
In the civil jail at Meppen to which we were taken, and which is a
fine building with bright halls and pleasant surroundings, we were
put in clean and comfortable cells. There was a bed with mattress and
blankets, which in the daytime was locked up against the wall, toilet
accommodations, drinking-water, chair, table, wash-basin, and comb.
It looked like luxury to us, and after a bowl of good soup I went to
sleep.
I wakened the next morning much refreshed and in good spirits. The
guard was polite and obliging, and when I said, "Guard, I like your
place," his face broke into a friendly grin which warmed my heart.
Ted had spoken truly when he said the Germans were a "spotty race."
It is a spotty country, too, and one of the pleasant spots to us was
the civil jail at Meppen.
Of course, to men who had been sleeping in beds and eating at tables
and going in and out at their own pleasure, it would have been a
jail; but to us, dirty, tired, hungry, red-eyed from loss of sleep,
and worn with anxiety, it was not a jail--it was a haven of rest. And
in the twenty-four hours that we spent there we made the most of it,
for we well knew there were hard times coming!