On February 3rd, about 2 p.m., I met Dunbar, of the Transvaal Horse
Artillery, and asked him if he could introduce me to any man in camp
who knew the road to Swakopmund. He told me that nobody had ever been
in that part of the country before, so that no one knew the road. About
an hour later he informed me the doctor wished to speak to me. On
entering the room where Dr. Dawson was, he told me to close the door
and sit down. Looking out of the window, to make sure that there were
no German soldiers about, he said, "I am informed that you are anxious
to escape. Why is that?"
I told him I possessed what I considered to be valuable military
information, which I was anxious to communicate to the authorities. He
then asked me if I had thought of the difficulty of reaching Swakopmund
across something like two hundred and fifty miles of mountainous desert
country. I replied that I had seen a map, had a fair idea of the
distance, and was prepared to take my chance. Dr. Dawson next inquired
if I thought I was strong enough to stand the journey, as it could not
possibly be done in less than seven days, and anyone attempting the
task would have to carry at least four water-bottles and two water-bags.
"If you are going to escape," he added, "it must be to-night, between
eight and nine o'clock. There are three other men going at that time,
and you can join them."
He inquired what preparations I had made with regard to food and water
on the road, and I told him none.
"I can supply flour to make fat cookies," he said, "but you will have
to see to the water-bottles and water-bags yourself."
Then, in confidence, I told the doctor what I had heard at
Keetmanshoop, and he agreed with me that the news was most important,
and that I must go at all costs.
Soon afterwards the doctor sent for the other men who were to be my
companions in the attempt to escape. They were Sergeant Mackenzie,
of the Upington commando, a Scotchman; Trooper Maritz, of the South
African Mounted Rifles, a Boer; and Trooper Franzen, of the Veteran
Signalling Corps, a Norwegian. When they entered the room he formally
introduced me to them, and told them that I wanted to accompany them
on the journey. After having discussed our plans for getting away
from the camp, and the route we were to take, we parted, having
arranged to meet again at 8.30 p.m. under a specified tree close to the
fence. Needless to say, I was very excited, but I started to collect
water-bottles and bags, and by 7 p.m. had everything prepared for the
journey. One of my messmates, Trooper Cadman, kindly gave me his boots,
as he thought they were in better condition than my own for our long
desert trek. Another, Trooper Martins, gave me his socks, water-bottle,
and water-bags. Trooper Lawford gave me his haversack and tunic. The
tunic I was not inclined to accept, as it was the only one he had,
but the generous fellow pressed me to take it. Trooper Dunbar, of the
Transvaal Horse Artillery, gave me his belt, containing a pair of
wirecutters, which he had concealed from the Germans. These were the
only cutters in the camp, all others being taken away.
At about 8 p.m. I said good-bye to my own messmates, all of whom
wished me the best of luck, and requested me to communicate with their
relatives if I was fortunate enough to get through.
I then made my way to the appointed spot, where I met the other three
men, also the doctor and a few of our comrades who were "in the know."
Here I received fifteen or sixteen "fat cookies," which I placed in
my haversack, together with a half-bottle of rum. The doctor had
previously given us a small compass, and each of us had a "first field
dressing" in case of wounds, also some boracic powder and a tin of
ointment, which we found very useful on the journey.
And now came the business of the escape. One man was placed at the
point of the triangle, as shown in the sketch, and another at the
base, to signal to us when all was clear. The signal arranged was the
striking of matches. All four of us, after having shaken hands with our
benefactor, the doctor, crept down alongside the fence. It was very
dark, and there was a slight drizzle of rain. The other prisoners in
camp were attending a concert which had been arranged by the doctor to
avert suspicion. As we lay there, waiting breathlessly for the signal,
we could hear the two German sentries talking outside the fence, only
some ten yards away from where we lay. We had to remain motionless for
about half an hour, and needless to say the suspense was very great. At
last, however, the sentries moved, going in opposite directions around
the triangle, and soon afterwards we saw the eagerly-awaited signal.
Franzen, one of my three companions, immediately got out underneath the
wire and through the bush on the outside. The dogs at the farmhouse
about a hundred yards away promptly commenced to bark, and we had to
remain where we were for about ten minutes, dreading discovery all
the time. Maritz, another of my companions, then followed Franzen;
Mackenzie went next, and I followed. Getting underneath the fence was
a rather difficult task, as we had to lie flat on our bodies and drag
ourselves through, each hand being fully occupied holding a water-bag.
When I got outside the fence I rearranged the bushes to cover the gap
we had made, and then made tracks in the direction of a large tree some
fifty yards from the fence, going from here to an old kraal wall where
we had arranged to meet. On arrival there, I found that I had lost one
of my precious water-bottles and the half-bottle of rum in getting
through the fence, but we decided we must go on without them.
"Well, this is the first part of the business finished," said someone,
and then, shaking hands, we set out.