His kindness and apparent willingness to help me almost overcame me,
and I felt like warning him of the consequences he would suffer if the
Huns discovered he had befriended me. I had heard that twenty Belgians
had been shot for helping Belgians to escape into Holland, and I hated
to think what might happen to this Good Samaritan if the Huns ever knew
that he had helped an escaped American prisoner.
After my meal was finished I told him in as simple language as I could
command of some of the experiences I had gone through, and I outlined my
future plans.
"You will never be able to get to Holland," he declared, "without a
passport. The nearer you get to the frontier the more German soldiers
you will encounter, and without a passport you will be a marked man."
I asked him to suggest a way by which I could overcome this difficulty.
He thought for several moments and studied me closely all the
time--perhaps endeavoring to make absolutely sure that I was not a
German spy--and then, apparently deciding in my favor, told me what he
thought it was best for me to do.
"If you will call on this man," mentioning the name of a Belgian in
----, a city through which I had to pass, he advised, "you will be able
to make arrangements with him to secure a passport, and he will do
everything he can to get you out of Belgium."
He told me where the man in question could be found and gave me some
useful directions to continue my journey, and then he led me to the
door. I thanked him a thousand times and wanted to pay him for his
kindness and help, but he would accept nothing. He did give me his
name, and you may be sure I shall never forget it, but to mention it
here might, of course, result in serious consequences for him. When the
war is over, however, or the Germans are thrown out of Belgium, I shall
make it my duty to find that kind Belgian, if to do it I have to go
through again all that I have suffered already.
XI
I ENCOUNTER GERMAN SOLDIERS
What the Belgian had told me about the need of a passport gave me fresh
cause for worry. Suppose I should run into a German sentry before I
succeeded in getting one?
I decided that until I reached the big city which the Belgian had
mentioned--and which I cannot name for fear of identifying some of
the people there who befriended me--I would proceed with the utmost
precaution. Since I had discarded my uniform and had obtained civilian
clothes I had not been quite as careful as I was at first. While I had
done my traveling at night, I had not gone into hiding so early in the
morning as before, and I had sometimes started again before it was quite
dark, relying upon the fact that I would probably be mistaken for a
Belgian on his way to or from work, as the case might be. From now on,
I resolved, however, I would take no more chances.
That evening I came to a river perhaps seventy-five yards wide, and I
was getting ready to swim it when I thought I would walk a little way
to find, if possible, a better place to get to the river from the bank.
I had not walked more than a few hundred feet when I saw a boat. It was
the first time I had seen a boat in all my experiences.
It was firmly chained, but as the stakes were sunk in the soft bank it
was not much of a job to pull them out. I got in, drank to my heart's
content, shoved over to the other side, got out, drove a stake into the
ground, and moored the boat. It would have been a simple matter to have
drifted down the river, but the river was not shown on my map and I had
no idea where it might lead me. Very reluctantly, therefore, I had to
abandon the boat and proceed on foot.
I made several miles that night and before daylight found a safe
place in which to hide for the day. From my hiding-place I could see
through the bushes a heavy thick wood only a short distance away.
I decided that I would start earlier than usual, hurry over to the
wood, and perhaps in that way I could cover two or three miles in the
daytime and gain just so much time. Traveling through the wood would be
comparatively safe. There was a railroad going through the wood, but I
did not figure that that would make it any the less safe.
About three o'clock that afternoon, therefore, I emerged from my
hiding-place and hurried into the wood. After proceeding for half a mile
or so I came to the railroad. I took a sharp look in both directions
and, seeing no signs of trains or soldiers, I walked boldly over the
tracks and continued on my way.
I soon came upon a clearing and knew that some one must be living in the
vicinity. As I turned a group of trees I saw a small house and in the
distance an old man working in a garden. I decided to enter the house
and ask for food, figuring the woman would probably be old and would be
no match for me even if she proved hostile. The old woman who came to
the door in response to my knock was older even than I had expected. If
she wasn't close to a hundred years, I miss my guess very much.
She could not speak English and I could not speak Flemish, of course,
but, nevertheless, I made her understand that I wanted something to eat.
She came out of the door and hollered for her husband in a shrill voice
that would have done credit to a girl of eighteen. The old man came in
from his garden and between the two of them they managed to get the
idea that I was hungry, and they gave me a piece of bread--a very small
piece--which was quite a treat.
The house they lived in consisted of just two rooms--the kitchen and a
bedroom. The kitchen was perhaps fourteen feet square, eight feet of
one side of it being taken up by an enormous fireplace. What was in
the bedroom I had no way of telling, as I did not dare to be too
inquisitive.
I made the old couple understand that I would like to stay in their
house all night, but the old man shook his head. I bade them good-by and
disappeared into the woods, leaving them to speculate as to the strange
foreigner they had entertained.
From the greater density of the population in the section through which
I was now passing I realized that I must be in the outskirts of the
big city which the Belgian had mentioned and where I was to procure a
passport.
Village after village intercepted me, and, although I tried to skirt
them wherever possible, I realized that I would never make much progress
if I continued that course. To gain a mile I would sometimes have to
make a detour of two or three. I decided that I would try my luck in
going straight through the next village I came to.
As I approached it I passed numbers of peasants who were ambling along
the road. I was afraid to mingle with them because it was impossible for
me to talk to them and it was dangerous to arouse suspicion even among
the Belgians. For all I knew, one of them might be treacherous enough to
deliver me to the Germans in return for the reward he might be sure of
receiving.
About nine o'clock that evening I came to a point where ahead of me
on the right was a Belgian police station--I knew it from its red
lights--and on the other side of the street were two German soldiers in
uniform leaning against a bicycle.
Here was a problem which called for instant decision. If I turned back,
the suspicion of the soldiers would be instantly aroused, and if I
crossed the road so as not to pass so closely to them, they might be
equally suspicious. I decided to march bravely by the Huns, bluff my
way through, and trust to Providence. If anybody imagines, however,
that I was at all comfortable as I approached those soldiers, he must
think that I am a much braver man than I claim to be. My heart beat so
loud I was afraid they would hear it. Every step I took brought me so
much nearer to what might prove to be the end of all my hopes. It was a
nerve-racking ordeal.
I was now within a few feet of them. Another step and--
They didn't turn a hair! I passed right by them--heard what they were
saying, although, of course, I didn't understand it, and went right
on. I can't say I didn't walk a little faster as I left them behind,
but I tried to maintain an even gait so as not to give them any idea
of the inward exultation I was experiencing. No words can explain,
however, how relieved I really felt--to know that I had successfully
passed through the first of a series of similar tests which I realized
were in store for me--although I did not know then how soon I was to be
confronted with the second.
As it was, however, the incident gave me a world of confidence. It
demonstrated to me that there was nothing in my appearance, at any rate,
to attract the attention of the German soldiers. Apparently I looked
like a Belgian peasant, and if I could only work things so that I would
never have to answer questions and thus give away my nationality, I
figured I would be tolerably safe.
As I marched along I felt so happy I couldn't help humming the air of
one of the new patriotic songs that we used to sing at the aerodrome
back of Ypres.
In this happy fame of mind I covered the next three miles in about an
hour, and then I came to another little village. My usual course would
have been to go around it--through fields, backyards, woods, or whatever
else lay in my way--but I had gained so much time by going through the
last village instead of detouring around it, and my appearance seemed to
be so unsuspicious, that I decided to try the same stunt again.
I stopped humming and kept very much on the alert, but, apart from that,
I walked boldly through the main street without any feeling of alarm.
I had proceeded perhaps a mile along the main street when I noticed
ahead of me three German soldiers standing at the curb.
Again my heart started to beat fast, I must confess, but I was not
nearly so scared as I had been an hour or so before. I walked ahead,
determined to follow my previous procedure in every particular.
I had got to about fifteen feet away from the soldiers when one of them
stepped onto the sidewalk and shouted:
"Halt!"
My heart stopped beating fast--for a moment, I believe, it stopped
beating altogether! I can't attempt to describe my feelings. The thought
that the jig was up, that all I had gone through and all I had escaped
would now avail me nothing, mingled with a feeling of disgust with
myself because of the foolish risk I had taken in going through the
village, combined to take all the starch out of me, and I could feel
myself wilting as the soldier advanced to the spot where I stood rooted
in my tracks.
I had a bottle of water in one pocket and a piece of bread in the other,
and as the Hun advanced to search me I held the bottle up in one hand
and the piece of bread in the other so that he could see that was all I
had.
It occurred to me that he would "frisk" me--that is, feel me over for
arms or other weapons, then place me under arrest and march me off to
the guard-house. I had not the slightest idea but that I was captured,
and there didn't seem to be much use in resisting, unarmed as I was and
with two other German soldiers within a few feet of us.
Like a flash it suddenly dawned on me, however, that for all this
soldier could have known I was only a Belgian peasant and that his
object in searching me, which he proceeded to do, was to ascertain
whether I had committed the common "crime" of smuggling potatoes!
The Belgians are allowed only a certain amount of potatoes, and it is
against the laws laid down by the Huns to deal in vegetables of any kind
except under the rigid supervision of the authorities. Nevertheless, it
was one of the principal vocations of the average poor Belgian to buy
potatoes out in the country from the peasants and then smuggle them into
the large cities and sell them clandestinely at a high price.
To stop this traffic in potatoes the German soldiers were in the habit
of subjecting the Belgians to frequent search, and I was being held up
by this soldier for no other reason than that he thought I might be a
potato-smuggler!
He felt of my outside clothes and pockets, and, finding no potatoes,
seemed to be quite satisfied. Had he but known who I was he could have
earned an iron cross! Or perhaps, in view of the fact that I had a heavy
water-bottle in my uplifted hand, it might have turned out to be a
_wooden_ cross!
He said something in German, which, of course, I did not understand,
and then some Belgian peasants came along and seemed to distract his
attention. Perhaps he had said, "It's all right, you may go on," or
he may have been talking to the others in Flemish, but, at any rate,
observing that he was more interested in the others than he was in me at
the moment, I put the bottle in my pocket and walked on.
After I walked a few steps I took a furtive glance backward and noticed
the soldier who had searched me rejoin his comrades at the curb and then
stop another fellow who had come along, and then I disappeared in the
darkness.
I cannot say that the outcome of this adventure left me in the same
confident frame of mind that followed the earlier one. It was true I had
come out of it all right, but I could not help thinking what a terribly
close shave I had.
Suppose the soldier had questioned me? The ruse I had been following
in my dealings with the Belgian peasants--pretending I was deaf and
dumb--might possibly have worked here, too, but a soldier--a German
soldier--might not so easily have been fooled. It was more than an even
chance that it would at least have aroused his suspicions and resulted
in further investigation. A search of my clothing would have revealed
a dozen things which would have established my identity, and all my
shamming of deafness would have availed me nothing.
As I wandered along I knew that I was now approaching the big city which
my Belgian friend had spoken of and which I would have to enter if I was
to get the passport, and I realized now how essential it was to have
something to enable me to get through the frequent examinations to which
I expected to be subjected.
While I was still debating in my mind whether it was going to be
possible for me to enter the city that night, I saw in the distance what
appeared to be an arc-light, and as I neared it that was what it turned
out to be. Beneath the light I could make out the forms of three guards,
and the thought of having to go through the same kind of ordeal that I
had just experienced filled me with misgivings. Was it possible that I
could be fortunate enough to get by again?
As I slowed up a little, trying to make up my mind what was best to do,
I was overtaken by a group of Belgian women who were shuffling along
the road, and I decided to mingle with them and see if I couldn't convey
the impression that I was one of their party.
As we approached the arc-light the figures of those three soldiers with
their spiked helmets loomed up before me like a regiment. I felt as if
I were walking right into the jaws of death. Rather than go through
what was in store for me I felt that I would infinitely prefer to be
fighting again in the air with those four desperate Huns who had been
the cause of my present plight; then, at least, I would have a chance to
fight back, but now I had to risk my life and take what was coming to me
without a chance to strike a blow in my own defense.
I shall never forget my feelings as we came within the shaft of light
projected by that great arc-light, nor the faces of those three guards
as we passed by them. I didn't look directly at them, but out of the
corner of my eye I didn't miss a detail. I held a handkerchief up to my
face as we passed them, and endeavored to imitate the slouching gait of
the Belgians as well as I could; and apparently it worked. We walked
right by those guards and they paid absolutely no attention to us.
If ever a fellow felt like going down on his knees and praying, I did at
that moment, but it wouldn't have done to show my elation or gratitude
in that conspicuous way.
It was then well after eleven o'clock, and I knew it would be unsafe for
me to attempt to find a lodging-place in the city, and the only thing
for me to do was to locate the man whose name the Belgian had given me.
He had given me a good description of the street and had directed me how
to get there, and I followed his instructions closely.
After walking the streets for about half an hour I came upon one of the
landmarks my friend had described to me, and ten minutes afterward I was
knocking at the door of the man who was to make it possible for me to
reach Holland--and liberty. At least that was what I hoped.
XII
THE FORGED PASSPORT
For obvious reasons I cannot describe the man to whom I applied for
the passport, nor the house in which he lived. While, in view of what
subsequently happened, I would not be very much concerned if he got
into trouble for having dealt with me, I realize that the hardships he
had endured in common with all the other inhabitants of that conquered
city may possibly have distorted his ideas of right and justice, and I
shall not deliberately bring further disaster on him by revealing his
identity.
This man--we will call him Huyliger, because that is as unlike his
name as it is mine--was very kind to me on that memorable night when I
aroused him from his sleep and in a few words of explanation told him of
my plight.
He invited me inside, prepared some food for me, and, putting on a
dressing-gown, came and sat by me while I ate, listening with the
greatest interest to the short account I gave him of my adventures.
He could speak English fluently, and he interrupted me several times to
express his sympathy for the sufferings I had endured.
"O'Brien," he said, after I had concluded my story, "I am going to
help you. It may take several days--perhaps as long as two weeks, but
eventually we will provide the means to enable you to get into Holland!"
I thanked him a thousand times and told him that I didn't know how I
could possibly repay him.
"Don't think of that," he replied; "the satisfaction of knowing that I
have aided in placing one more victim of the Huns beyond their power to
harm him will more than repay me for all the risk I shall run in helping
you. You'd better turn in now, O'Brien, and in the morning I'll tell you
what I plan to do."
He showed me to a small room on the second floor, shook hands with me,
and left me to prepare for the first real night's rest I had been able
to take in nearly two months.
As I removed my clothes and noticed that my knees were still swollen to
twice their normal size, that my left ankle was black and blue from the
wrench I had given it when I jumped from the train, and that my ribs
showed through my skin, I realized what a lot I had been through. As a
matter of fact, I could not have weighed more than one hundred and fifty
pounds at that time, whereas I had tipped the scales at one hundred and
ninety when I was with my squadron in France.
I lost no time in getting into bed and still less in getting to sleep.
I don't know what I dreamed of that night, but I had plenty of time to
go through the experiences of my whole life, for when I was aroused by a
knock on the door, and Huyliger came in, in response to my invitation to
enter, he told me that it was nearly noon. I had slept for nearly twelve
hours.
I cannot say that the thought did not run through my head that perhaps,
after all, I was living in a fool's paradise, and that when Huyliger
reappeared it would be with a couple of German soldiers behind him,
but I dismissed such misgivings summarily, realizing that I was doing
Huyliger an injustice to let such things enter my head even for an
instant. I had no right to doubt his sincerity, and it would do me no
good to entertain such suspicions. If he was going to prove treacherous
to me, I was powerless, anyway, to cope with him.
In a few moments my host appeared with a tray containing my breakfast.
I don't suppose I shall ever forget that meal. It consisted of a cup of
coffee--real coffee, not the kind I had had at Courtrai--several slices
of bread, some hot potatoes, and a dish of scrambled eggs.
Every mouthful of that meal tasted like angel-food to me, and Huyliger
sat on the edge of the bed and watched me enjoying the meal, at the same
time outlining the plans he had made for my escape.
In brief, the scheme was to conceal me in a convent until conditions
were ripe for me to make my way to the border. In the mean while I was
to be dressed in the garb of a priest, and when the time came for me to
leave the city I was to pretend that I was a Spanish sailor, because
I could speak a little Spanish, which I had picked up on the coast.
To attempt to play the part of a Belgian would become increasingly
difficult, he pointed out, and would bring inevitable disaster in the
event that I was called upon to speak.
Huyliger said I would be given sufficient money to bribe the German
guards at the Dutch frontier, and he assured me that everything would
work out according to schedule.
"Yours is not the first case, O'Brien, we have handled successfully," he
declared. "Only three weeks ago I heard from an English merchant who had
escaped from a German detention camp and come to me for assistance, and
whom I had been able to get through the lines. His message telling me of
his safe arrival in Rotterdam came to me in an indirect way, of course,
but the fact that the plans we had made carried through without mishap
makes me feel that we ought to be able to do as much for you."
I told Huyliger I was ready to follow his instructions and would do
anything he suggested.
"I want to rejoin my squadron as soon as I possibly can, of course," I
told him, "but I realize that it will take a certain length of time for
you to make the necessary arrangements, and I will be as patient as I
can."
The first thing to do, Huyliger told me, was to prepare a passport. He
had a blank one and it was a comparatively simple matter to fill in the
spaces, using a genuine passport which Huyliger possessed as a sample
of the handwriting of the passport clerk. My occupation was entered as
that of a sailor. My birthplace we gave as Spain, and we put my age at
thirty. As a matter of fact, at that time I could easily have passed for
thirty-five, but we figured that with proper food and a decent place
to sleep in at night I would soon regain my normal appearance and the
passport would have to serve me, perhaps, for several weeks to come.
Filling in the blank spaces on the passport was, as I have said, a
comparatively easy matter, but that did not begin to fill the bill.
Every genuine passport bore an official rubber stamp, something like an
elaborate postmark, and I was at a loss to know how to get over that
difficulty.
[Illustration: THE FORGED PASSPORT PREPARED IN A BELGIAN CITY TO AID
LIEUTENANT O'BRIEN'S ESCAPE INTO HOLLAND, BUT WHICH WAS NEVER USED]
Fortunately, however, Huyliger had half of a rubber stamp which had
evidently been thrown away by the Germans, and he planned to construct
the other half out of the cork from a wine bottle. He was very skilful
with a penknife, and although he spoiled a score or more of corks before
he succeeded in getting anything like the result he was after, the
finished article was far better than our most sanguine expectations.
Indeed, after we had pared it over here and there and removed whatever
imperfections our repeated tests disclosed, we had a stamp which made
an impression so closely resembling the original that, without a
magnifying-glass, we were sure it would have been impossible to tell
that it was a counterfeit.
Huyliger procured a camera and took a photograph of me to paste on the
passport in the place provided for that purpose, and we then had a
passport which was entirely satisfactory to both of us and would, we
hoped, prove equally so to our friends the Huns.
It had taken two days to fix up the passport. In the mean while,
Huyliger informed me that he had changed his plans about the convent,
and that instead he would take me to an empty house where I could remain
in safety until he told me it was advisable for me to proceed to the
frontier.
This was quite agreeable to me, as I had had some misgivings as to the
kind of a priest I would make, and it seemed to me to be safer to remain
aloof from every one in a deserted house than to have to mingle with
people or come in contact with them even with the best of disguises.
That night I accompanied Huyliger to a fashionable section of the city
where the house in which I was to be concealed was located.
This house turned out to be a four-story structure of brick. Huyliger
told me that it had been occupied by a wealthy Belgian before the
war, but since 1914 it had been uninhabited save for the occasional
habitation of some refugee whom Huyliger was befriending.