"Sure, and we have every nation that's worth mentioning, including the
darn Germans, with us whites." Of course, this was not translated to
the Germans, nor was it even spoken in their hearing, or we probably
would not have had quite so cosmopolitan a bunch. Each man in the prison
was ready to uphold his native country in any argument that could
possibly be started, and it goes without saying that I never took a back
seat in any of them with my praise for America, with the Canadian and
Chinaman chiming in on my side. But they were friendly arguments; we
were all in the same boat and that was no place for quarreling.
Every other morning, the weather allowing, we were taken to a large
swimming-pool and were allowed to have a bath. There were two pools, one
for the German officers and one for the men. Although we were officers,
we had to use the pool occupied by the men. While we were in swimming a
German guard with a rifle across his knees sat at each comer of the pool
and watched us closely as we dressed and undressed. English interpreters
accompanied us on all of these trips, so at no time could we talk
without their knowing what was going on.
Whenever we were taken out of the prison for any purpose they always
paraded us through the most crowded streets--evidently to give the
populace an idea that they were getting lots of prisoners. The German
soldiers we passed on these occasions made no effort to hide their
smiles and sneers.
The Belgian people were apparently very curious to see us, and they used
to turn out in large numbers whenever the word was passed that we were
out. At times the German guards would strike the women and children
who crowded too close to us. One day I smiled and spoke to a pretty
Belgian girl, and when she replied a German made a run for her. Luckily
she stepped into the house before he reached her or I am afraid my
salutation would have resulted seriously for her and I would have been
powerless to have assisted her.
Whenever we passed a Belgian home or other building which had been
wrecked by bombs dropped by our airmen our guards made us stop a moment
or two while they passed sneering remarks among themselves.
One of the most interesting souvenirs I have of my imprisonment at
Courtrai is a photograph of a group of us taken in the prison courtyard.
The picture was made by one of the guards, who sold copies of it to
those of us who were able to pay his price--one mark apiece.
As we faced the camera, I suppose we all tried to look our happiest,
but the majority of us, I am afraid, were too sick at heart to raise
a smile even for this occasion. One of our Hun guards is shown in the
picture seated at the table. I am standing directly behind him, attired
in my flying tunic, which they allowed me to wear all the time I was
in prison, as is the usual custom with prisoners of war. Three of the
British officers shown in the picture, in the foreground, are clad in
"shorts."
Through all my subsequent adventures I was able to retain a print of
this interesting picture, and although when I gaze at it now it only
serves to increase my gratification at my ultimate escape, it fills me
with regret to think that my fellow-prisoners were not so fortunate. All
of them, by this time, are undoubtedly eating their hearts up in the
prison-camps of interior Germany. Poor fellows!
[Illustration: A GROUP OF PRISONERS OF WAR IN THE PRISON-CAMP AT
COURTRAI, BELGIUM
(Lieutenant O'Brien, in his R. F. C. flying-tunic, is standing in the
center behind the German guard seated at the table. This picture was
taken by one of the German guards and sold to Lieutenant O'Brien for one
mark.)]
Despite the scanty fare and the restrictions we were under in this
prison, we did manage on one occasion to arrange a regular banquet. The
planning which was necessary helped to pass the time.
At this time there were eight of us. We decided that the principal thing
we needed to make the affair a success was potatoes, and I conceived a
plan to get them. Every other afternoon they took us for a walk in the
country, and it occurred to me that it would be a comparatively simple
matter for us to pretend to be tired and sit down when we came to the
first potato-patch.
It worked out nicely. When we came to the first potato-patch that
afternoon we told our guards that we wanted to rest a bit and we were
allowed to sit down. In the course of the next five minutes each of us
managed to get a potato or two. Being Irish, I got six.
When we got back to the prison I managed to steal a handkerchief full
of sugar which, with some apples that we were allowed to purchase, we
easily converted into a sort of jam.
We now had potatoes and jam, but no bread. It happened that the Hun
who had charge of the potatoes was a great musician. It was not very
difficult to prevail upon him to play us some music, and while he went
out to get his zither I went into the bread pantry and stole a loaf of
bread.
Most of us had saved some butter from the day before and we used it to
fry our potatoes. By bribing one of the guards he bought some eggs for
us. They cost twenty-five cents apiece, but we were determined to make
this banquet a success, no matter what it cost.
The cooking was done by the prison cook, whom, of course, we had to
bribe.
When the meal was ready to serve it consisted of scrambled eggs, fried
potatoes, bread and jam, and a pitcher of beer which we were allowed to
buy.
That was the 29th of August. Had I known that it was to be the last real
meal that I was to eat for many weeks I might have enjoyed it even more
than I did, but it was certainly very good.
We had cooked enough for eight, but while we were still eating another
joined us. He was an English officer who had just been brought in on
a stretcher. For seven days, he told us, he had lain in a shell-hole,
wounded, and he was almost famished, and we were mighty glad to share
our banquet with him.
We called on each man for a speech, and one might have thought that we
were at a first-class club meeting. A few days after that our party was
broken up and some of the men I suppose I shall never see again.
One of the souvenirs of my adventure is a check given me during this
"banquet" by Lieut. James Henry Dickson, of the Tenth Royal Irish
Fusileers, a fellow-prisoner. It was for twenty francs and was made
payable to the order of "Mr. Pat O'Brien, 2nd Lieut." Poor Jim forgot to
scratch out the "London" and substitute "Courtrai" on the date line, but
its value as a souvenir is just as great. When he gave it to me he had
no idea that I would have an opportunity so soon afterward to cash it in
person, although I am quite sure that whatever financial reverses I may
be destined to meet my want will never be great enough to induce me to
realize on that check.
There was one subject that was talked about in this prison whenever
conversation lagged, and I suppose it is the same in the other prisons,
too. What were the chances of escape?
Every man seemed to have a different idea and one way I suppose was
about as impracticable as another. None of us ever expected to get
a chance to put our ideas into execution, but it was interesting
speculation, and, anyway, one could never tell what opportunities might
present themselves.
One suggestion was that we disguise ourselves as women. "O'Brien would
stand a better chance disguised as a horse!" declared another, referring
to the fact that my height (I am six feet two inches) would make me more
conspicuous as a woman than as a man.
Another suggested that we steal a German Gotha--a type of aeroplane
used for long-distance bombing. It is these machines which are used for
bombing London. They are manned by three men, one sitting in front with
a machine-gun, the pilot sitting behind him, and an observer sitting
in the rear with another machine-gun. We figured that at a pinch
perhaps seven or eight of us could make our escape in a single machine.
They have two motors of very high horse-power, fly very high and make
wonderful speed. But we had no chance to put this idea to the test.
I worked out another plan by which I thought I might have a chance if I
could ever get into one of the German aerodromes. I would conceal myself
in one of the hangars, wait until one of the German machines started
out, and as he taxied along the ground I would rush out, shout at the
top of my voice, and point excitedly at his wheels. This, I figured,
would cause the pilot to stop and get out to see what was wrong. By that
time I would be up to him and as he stooped over to inspect the machine
I could knock him senseless, jump into the machine, and be over the
lines before the Huns could make up their minds just what had happened.
It was a fine dream, but my chance was not to come that way.
There were dozens of other ways which we considered. One man would
be for endeavoring to make his way right through the lines. Another
thought the safest plan would be to swim some river that crossed the
lines.
The idea of making one's way to Holland, a neutral country, occurred
to every one, but the one great obstacle in that direction, we all
realized, was the great barrier of barbed and electrically charged wire
which guards every foot of the frontier between Belgium and Holland and
which is closely watched by the German sentries.
This barrier was a threefold affair. It consisted first of a barbed-wire
wall six feet high. Six feet beyond that was a nine-foot wall of wire
powerfully charged with electricity. To touch it meant electrocution.
Beyond that, at a distance of six feet was another wall of barbed wire
six feet high.
Beyond the barrier lay Holland and liberty, but how to get there was a
problem which none of us could solve and few of us ever expected to have
a chance to try.
Mine came sooner than I expected.
VI
A LEAP FOR LIBERTY
I had been in prison at Courtrai nearly three weeks when, on the morning
of September 9th, I and six other officers were told that we were to be
transferred to a prison-camp in Germany.
One of the guards told me during the day that we were destined for a
reprisal camp in Strassburg. They were sending us there to keep our
airmen from bombing the place.
He explained that the English carried German officers on hospital-ships
for a similar purpose, and he excused the German practice of torpedoing
these vessels on the score that they also carried munitions! When I
pointed out to him that France would hardly be sending munitions to
England, he lost interest in the argument.
Some days before I had made up my mind that it would be a very good
thing to get hold of a map of Germany which I knew was in the possession
of one of the German interpreters, because I realized that if ever the
opportunity came to make my escape such a map might be of the greatest
assistance to me.
With the idea of stealing this map, accordingly, a lieutenant and I got
in front of this interpreter's window one day and engaged in a very hot
argument as to whether Heidelberg was on the Rhine or not, and we argued
back and forth so vigorously that the German came out of his room, map
in hand, to settle it. After the matter was entirely settled to our
satisfaction he went back into his room and I watched where he put the
map.
When, therefore, I learned that I was on my way to Germany I realized
that it was more important than ever for me to get that map, and, with
the help of my friend, we got the interpreter out of his room on some
pretext or another, and while he was gone I confiscated the map from
the book in which he kept it and concealed it in my sock underneath
my legging. As I had anticipated, it later proved of the utmost value
to me.
I got it none too soon, for half an hour later we were on our way to
Ghent. Our party consisted of five British officers and one French
officer. At Ghent, where we had to wait for several hours for another
train to take us direct to the prison in Germany, two other prisoners
were added to our party.
In the interval we were locked in a room at a hotel, a guard sitting at
the door with a rifle on his knee. It would have done my heart good for
the rest of my life if I could have got away then and fooled that Hun,
he was so cocksure.
Later we were marched to the train that was to convey us to Germany. It
consisted of some twelve coaches, eleven of them containing troops going
home on leave, and the twelfth reserved for us. We were placed in a
fourth-class compartment, with old, hard, wooden seats, a filthy floor,
and no lights save a candle placed there by a guard. There were eight of
us prisoners and four guards.
As we sat in the coach we were an object of curiosity to the crowd who
gathered at the station.
"Hope you have a nice trip!" one of them shouted, sarcastically.
"Drop me a line when you get to Berlin, will you?" shouted another in
broken English.
"When shall we see you again?" asked a third.
"Remember me to your friends, will you? You'll find plenty where you're
going!" shouted another.
The German officers made no effort to repress the crowd; in fact, they
joined in the general laughter which followed every sally.
I called to a German officer who was passing our window.
"You're an officer, aren't you?" I asked, respectfully enough.
"Yes. What of it?" he rejoined.
"Well, in England," I said, "we let your officers who are prisoners ride
first-class. Can't you fix it so that we can be similarly treated, or be
transferred at least to a second-class compartment?"
"If I had my way," he replied, "you'd ride with the hogs!"
Then he turned to the crowd and told them of my request and how he had
answered me, and they all laughed hilariously.
This got me pretty hot.
"That would be a damned sight better than riding with the Germans!" I
yelled after him, but if he considered that a good joke, too, he didn't
pass it on to the crowd.
Some months later when I had the honor of telling my story to King
George he thought this incident was one of the best jokes he had ever
heard. I don't believe he ever laughed harder in his life.
Before our train pulled out our guards had to present their arms for
inspection, and their rifles were loaded in our presence to let us know
that they meant business.
From the moment the train started on its way to Germany the thought kept
coming to my head that unless I could make my escape before we reached
that reprisal camp I might as well make up my mind that, as far as I was
concerned, the war was over.
It occurred to me that if the eight of us in that car could jump up at a
given signal and seize those four Hun guards by surprise, we'd have a
splendid chance of besting them and jumping off the train when it first
slowed down, but when I passed the idea on to my comrades they turned it
down. Even if the plan had worked out as gloriously as I had pictured,
they pointed out, the fact that so many of us had escaped would almost
inevitably result in our recapture. The Huns would have scoured Belgium
till they had got us and then we would all be shot. Perhaps they were
right.
Nevertheless, I was determined that, no matter what the others decided
to do, I was going to make one bid for freedom, come what might.
As we passed through village after village in Belgium and I realized
that we were getting nearer and nearer to that dreaded reprisal camp, I
concluded that my one and only chance of getting free before we reached
it was through the window! I would have to go through that window while
the train was going full speed, because if I waited until it had slowed
up or stopped entirely, it would be a simple matter for the guards to
overtake or shoot me.
I opened the window. The guard who sat opposite me--so close that his
feet touched mine and the stock of his gun which he held between his
knees occasionally struck my foot--made no objection, imagining, no
doubt, that I found the car too warm or that the smoke, with which the
compartment was filled, annoyed me.
As I opened the window the noise the train was making as it thundered
along grew louder. It seemed to say: "You're a fool if you do; you're a
fool if you don't! You're a fool if you do; you're a fool if you don't!"
And I said to myself, "The 'no's' have it," and closed down the window
again.
As soon as the window was closed the noise of the train naturally
subsided and its speed seemed to diminish, and my plan appealed to me
stronger than ever.
I knew the guard in front of me didn't understand a word of English, and
so, in a quiet tone of voice, I confided to the English officer who sat
next me what I planned to do.
"For God's sake, Pat, chuck it!" he urged. "Don't be a lunatic! This
railroad is double-tracked and rock-ballasted and the other track is on
your side. You stand every chance in the world of knocking your brains
out against the rails, or hitting a bridge or a whistling post, and, if
you escape those, you will probably be hit by another train on the other
track. You haven't one chance in a thousand to make it!"
There was a good deal of logic in what he said, but I figured that,
once I was in that reprisal camp, I might never have even one chance
in a thousand to escape, and the idea of remaining a prisoner of war
indefinitely went against my grain. I resolved to take my chance now
even at the ride of breaking my neck.
The car was full of smoke. I looked across at the guard. He was rather
an old man, going home on leave, and he seemed to be dreaming of what
was in store for him rather than paying any particular attention to me.
Once in a while I had smiled at him and I figured that he hadn't the
slightest idea of what was going through my mind all the time we had
been traveling.
I began to cough as though my throat were badly irritated by the smoke,
and then I opened the window again. This time the guard looked up and
showed his disapproval, but did not say anything.
It was then four o'clock in the morning and would soon be light. I knew
I had to do it right then or never, as there would be no chance to
escape in the daytime.
I had on a trench coat that I had used as a flying-coat and wore a
knapsack which I had constructed out of a gas-bag brought into Courtrai
by a British prisoner. In this I had two pieces of bread, a piece of
sausage, and a pair of flying-mittens. All of them had to go with me
through the window.
The train was now going at a rate of between thirty and thirty-five
miles an hour, and again it seemed to admonish me, as it rattled along
over the ties: "You're a fool if you do; you're a fool if you don't!
You're a fool if you don't; you're a fool if you do! You're a fool if
you don't--"
I waited no longer. Standing up on the bench as if to put the bag on the
rack, and taking hold of the rack with my left hand and a strap that
hung from the top of the car with my right, I pulled myself up, shoved
my feet and legs out of the window, and let go!
There was a prayer on my lips as I went out and I expected a bullet
between my shoulders, but it was all over in an instant.
I landed on my left side and face, burying my face in the rock ballast,
cutting it open and closing my left eye, skinning my hands and shins and
straining my ankle. For a few moments I was completely knocked out, and
if they shot at me through the window, in the first moments after my
escape, I had no way of knowing.
Of course, if they could have stopped the train right then, they could
easily have recaptured me, but at the speed it was going and in the
confusion which must have followed my escape, they probably didn't stop
within half a mile from the spot where I lay.
I came to within a few minutes, and when I examined myself and found
no bones broken I didn't stop to worry about my cuts and bruises, but
jumped up with the idea of putting as great a distance between me and
that track as possible before daylight came. Still being dazed, I forgot
all about the barbed-wire fence along the right-of-way and ran full tilt
into it. Right there I lost one of my two precious pieces of bread,
which fell out of my knapsack, but I could not stop to look for it then.
The one thing that was uppermost in my mind was that for the moment I
was free and it was up to me now to make the most of my liberty.
VII
CRAWLING THROUGH GERMANY
The exact spot at which I made my desperate leap I don't know. Perhaps,
after the war is over, some one on that train will be good enough to
tell me, and then I may go back and look for the dent I must have made
in the rock ballast.
As I have said, I didn't stop very long that morning after I once
regained my senses.
I was bleeding profusely from the wounds caused by the fall, but I
checked it somewhat with handkerchiefs I held to my face and I also held
the tail of my coat so as to catch the blood as it fell and not leave
telltale traces on the ground.
Before I stopped I had gone about a mile. Then I took my course from the
stars and found that I had been going just opposite to the direction I
should be making, but I could not go back across the track there.
Heading west, therefore, I kept this course for about two and a half
hours, but as I was very weak from loss of blood I didn't cover very
much ground in that time. Just before daylight I came to a canal which I
knew I had to cross, and I swam it with everything I had on.
This swim, which proved to be the first of a series that I was destined
to make, taught me several things.
In the first place, I had forgotten to remove my wrist-watch. This watch
had been broken in my fall from the air, but I had had it repaired at
Courtrai. In the leap from the train the crystal had been broken again,
but it was still going and would probably have been of great service to
me in my subsequent adventures, but the swim across the canal ruined it.
Then, too, I had not thought to take my map out of my sock, and the
water damaged that, too.
Thereafter, whenever I had any swimming to do, I was careful to take
such matters into consideration, and my usual practice was to make a
bundle of all the things that would be damaged by water and tie it to
my head. In this way I was able to keep them dry.
It was now daylight and I knew that it would be suicidal for me to
attempt to travel in the daytime. My British uniform would have been
fatal to me. I decided to hide in the daytime and travel only at night.
Not far from the canal I could see a heavily wooded piece of ground,
and I made my way there. By this time I had discovered that my left
ankle had been strained in my leap from the train, and when I got to the
woods I was glad to lie down and rest. The wound in my mouth had been
opened, too, when I jumped, and it would have been difficult for me to
have swallowed had not the piece of bread, which was to serve for my
breakfast, got wet when I swam the canal. I found a safe hiding-place
in which to spend the day and I tried to dry some of my clothes, but a
slight drizzling rainfall made that out of the question. I knew that I
ought to sleep, as I planned to travel at night, but, sore as I was,
caked with mud and blood, my clothing soaked through, and my hunger not
nearly appeased, sleep was out of the question. This seemed to me about
the longest day I had ever spent, but I was still to learn how long a
day can really be and how much longer a night!
When night came I dragged myself together and headed northeast.
My clothing consisted of my Flying Corps uniform, two shirts, no
underwear, leather leggings, heavy shoes, a good pair of wool socks, and
a German cap. I had a wallet containing several hundred francs in paper
money and various other papers. I also had a jack-knife which I had
stolen one day from the property-room at Courtrai where all the personal
effects taken from prisoners were kept. For a day or two I carried the
knapsack, but as I had nothing to carry in it I discarded it.
I traveled rapidly, considering my difficulties, and swam a couple of
canals that night, covering in all perhaps ten miles before daylight.
Then I located in some low bushes, lying there all day in my wet clothes
and finishing my sausage for food. That was the last of my rations.
That night I made perhaps the same distance, but became very hungry and
thirsty before the night was over.
For the next six days I still figured that I was in Germany, and I was
living on nothing but cabbage, sugar-beets, and an occasional carrot,
always in the raw state, just as I got them out of the fields. The water
I drank was often very rank, as I had to get it from canals and pools.
One night I lay in a cabbage-patch for an hour lapping the dew from the
leaves with my tongue!
During this period I realized that I must avoid meeting any one at all
hazards. I was in the enemy's country and my uniform would have been a
dead give-away. Any one who captured me or who gave information from
which my capture resulted might have been sure of a handsome reward. I
knew that it was necessary for me to make progress as fast as possible,
but the main consideration was to keep out of sight, even if it took
me a year to get to Holland, which was my objective. From my map, I
estimated that I was about thirty-five miles from Strassburg when I made
my leap from the train, and if I could travel in a straight line I had
perhaps one hundred and fifty miles to travel. As it was, however, I was
compelled to make many detours, and I figured that two hundred and fifty
miles was nearer the extent of the journey ahead of me.