through with it. I leaned it against a tree to test it and it wabbled
considerably. It was more like a rope ladder than a wooden one, but I
strengthened it here and there and decided that it would probably serve
the purpose.
I kept the ladder in the woods all day and could hardly wait until dark
to make the supreme test. If it proved successful, my troubles were
over; within a few hours I would be in a neutral country out of all
danger. If it failed--I dismissed the idea summarily. There was no use
worrying about failure; the thing to do was to succeed.
The few hours that were to pass before night came on seemed endless, but
I utilized them to reinforce my ladder, tying the rungs more securely
with long grass which I plucked in the woods.
At last night came, and with my ladder in hand I made for the barrier.
In front of it there was a cleared space of about one hundred yards,
which had been prepared to make the work of the guards easier in
watching it.
I waited in the neighborhood until I heard the sentry pass the spot
where I was in hiding, and then I hurried across the clearing, shoved my
ladder under the barbed wire, and endeavored to follow it. My clothing
caught in the wire, but I wrenched myself clear and crawled to the
electric barrier.
My plan was to place the ladder against one of the posts, climb up to
the top, and then jump. There would be a fall of nine or ten feet, and I
might possibly sprain my ankle or break my leg, but if that was all that
stood between me and freedom I wasn't going to stop to consider it.
I put my ear to the ground to listen for the coming of the sentry. There
was not a sound. Eagerly but carefully I placed the ladder against the
post and started up. Only a few feet separated me from liberty, and my
heart beat fast.
I had climbed perhaps three rungs of my ladder when I became aware of an
unlooked-for difficulty.
The ladder was slipping!
Just as I took the next rung the ladder slipped, came in contact with
the live wire, and the current passed through the wet sticks and into my
body. There was a blue flash, my hold on the ladder relaxed, and I fell
heavily to the ground unconscious!
Of course, I had not received the full force of the current or I would
not now be here. I must have remained unconscious for a few moments, but
I came to just in time to hear the German guard coming, and the thought
came to me that if I didn't get that ladder concealed at once, he would
see it even though, fortunately for me, it was an unusually dark night.
I pulled the ladder out of his path and lay down flat on the ground,
not seven feet away from his beat. He passed so close that I could have
pushed the ladder out and tripped him up.
It occurred to me that I could have climbed back under the barbed-wire
fence and waited for the sentry to return and then felled him with a
blow on the head, as he had no idea, of course, that there was any one
in the vicinity. I wouldn't have hesitated to take life, because my only
thought now was to get into Holland, but I thought that as long as he
didn't bother me perhaps the safest thing to do was not to bother him,
but to continue my efforts during his periodic absences.
His beat at this point was apparently fairly long and allowed me more
time to work than I had hoped for.
My mishap with the ladder had convinced me that escape in that way was
not feasible. The shock that I had received had unnerved me and I was
afraid to risk it again, particularly as I realized that I had fared
more fortunately than I could hope to again if I met with a similar
mishap. There was no way of making that ladder hold, and I gave up the
idea of using it.
I was now right in front of this electric barrier, and as I studied it I
saw another way of getting by. If I couldn't get over it, what was the
matter with getting under it?
The bottom wire was only two inches from the ground, and, of course, I
couldn't touch it, but my plan was to dig underneath it and then crawl
through the hole in the ground.
I had only my hands to dig with, but I went at it with a will, and
fortunately the ground was not very hard.
When I had dug about six inches, making a distance in all of eight
inches from the lowest electric wire, I came to an underground wire. I
knew enough about electricity to realize that this wire could not be
charged, as it was in contact with the ground, but still there was not
room between the live wire and this underground wire for me to crawl
through, and I either had to go on digging deep enough under this wire
to crawl under it or else pull it up.
This underground wire was about as big around as a lead-pencil and there
was no chance of breaking it. The jack-knife I had had at the start of
my travels I had long since lost, and even if I had had something to
hammer with, the noise would have made that method impracticable.
I went on digging. When the total distance between the live wire and the
bottom of the hole I had dug was thirty inches I took hold of the ground
wire and pulled on it with all my strength.
It wouldn't budge. It was stretched taut across the narrow ditch I had
dug--about fourteen inches wide--and all my tugging didn't serve to
loosen it.
I was just about to give it up in despair when a staple gave way in the
nearest post. This enabled me to pull the wire through the ground a
little, and I renewed my efforts. After a moment or two of pulling as I
had never pulled in my life before a staple on the next post gave way,
and my work became easier. I had more leeway now and pulled and pulled
again until in all eight staples had given way.
Every time a staple gave way it sounded in my ears like the report
of a gun, although I suppose it didn't really make very much noise.
Nevertheless, each time I would put my ear to the ground to listen for
the guard, and, not hearing him, went on with my work.
By pulling on the wire I was now able to drag it through the ground
enough to place it back from the fence and go on digging.
The deeper I went the harder became the work, because by this time my
finger-nails were broken and I was nervous--afraid every moment that I
would touch the charged wire.
I kept at it, however, with my mind constantly on the hole I was digging
and the liberty which was almost within my reach.
Finally I figured that I had enough space to crawl through and still
leave a couple of inches between my back and the live wire.
Before I went under that wire I noticed that the lace which the Belgian
woman had given me as a souvenir made my pocket bulge, and lest it might
be the innocent means of electrocuting me by touching the live wire, I
took it out, rolled it up, and threw it over the barrier.
Then I lay down on my stomach and crawled or rather writhed under the
wire like a snake, with my feet first, and there wasn't any question of
my hugging Mother Earth as closely as possible, because I realized that
even to touch the wire above me with my back meant instant death.
Anxious as I was to get on the other side, I didn't hurry this
operation. I feared that there might be some little detail that I had
overlooked, and I exercised the greatest possible care in going under,
taking nothing for granted.
When I finally got through and straightened up there were still several
feet of Belgium between me and liberty, represented by the six feet
which separated the electric barrier from the last barbed-wire fence,
but before I went another step I went down on my knees and thanked God
for my long series of escapes and especially for this last achievement,
which seemed to me to be about all that was necessary to bring me
freedom.
Then I crawled under the barbed-wire fence and breathed the free air
of Holland! I had no clear idea just where I was, and I didn't much
care. I was out of the power of the Germans, and that was enough. I had
walked perhaps a hundred yards when I remembered the lace I had thrown
over the barrier, and, dangerous as I realized the undertaking to be, I
determined to walk back and get it. This necessitated my going back on
to Belgian soil again, but it seemed a shame to leave the lace there,
and by exercising a little care I figured I could get it easily enough.
When I came to the spot at which I had made my way under the barbed wire
I put my ear to the ground and listened for the sentry. I heard him
coming and lay prone on the ground till he had passed. The fact that he
might observe the hole in the ground or the ladder occurred to me as I
lay there, and it seemed like an age before he finally marched out of
earshot. Then I went under the barbed wire again, retrieved the lace,
and once again made my way to Dutch territory.
It does not take long to describe the events just referred to, but the
incidents themselves consumed several hours in all. To dig the hole
must have taken me more than two hours, and I had to stop frequently
to hide while the sentry passed. Many times, indeed, I thought I heard
him coming and stopped my work, and then discovered that it was only
my imagination. I certainly suffered enough that night to last me a
lifetime. With a German guard on one side, death from electrocution
on the other, and starvation staring me in the face, my plight was
anything but a comfortable one.
It was the 19th of November, 1917, when I got through the wires. I had
made my leap from the train on September 9th. Altogether, therefore,
just seventy-two days had elapsed since I escaped from the Huns. If I
live to be as old as Methuselah, I never expect to live through another
seventy-two days so crammed full of incident and hazard and lucky
escapes.
XVIII
EXPERIENCES IN HOLLAND
But I was not yet quite out of the woods.
I now knew that I was in Holland, but just where I had no idea. I walked
for about thirty minutes and came to a path leading to the right, and I
had proceeded along it but a few hundred yards when I saw in front of me
a fence exactly like the one I had crossed.
"This is funny," I said to myself. "I didn't know the Dutch had a fence,
too." I advanced to the fence and examined it closely, and judge of my
astonishment when I saw beyond it a nine-foot fence apparently holding
live wires exactly like the one which had nearly been the death of me!
I had very little time to conjecture what it all meant, for just then I
heard a guard coming. He was walking so fast that I was sure it was a
Dutch sentry, as the Huns walk much more slowly.
I was so bewildered, however, that I decided to take no chances, and
as the road was fairly good I wandered down it and away from that
mysterious fence. About half a mile down I could see the light of a
sentry station, and I thought I would go there and tell my story to the
sentries, realizing that as I was unarmed it was perfectly safe for me
to announce myself to the Dutch authorities. I could be interned only if
I entered Holland under arms.
As I approached the sentry box I noticed three men in gray uniforms,
the regulation Dutch color. I was on the verge of shouting to them when
the thought struck me that there was just a chance I might be mistaken,
as the German uniforms were the same color, and I had suffered too many
privations and too many narrow escapes to lose all at this time.
I had just turned off the road to go back into some bushes when out of
the darkness I heard that dread German command:
"Halt! Halt!"
He didn't need to holler twice. I heard and heeded the first time. Then
I heard another man come running up, and there was considerable talking,
but whether they were Germans or Hollanders I was still uncertain.
Evidently, however, he thought the noise must be a dog or the wind.
Finally I heard one of them laugh and heard him walk back to the sentry
station where the guard was billeted, and I crawled a little nearer to
try to make out just what it all meant. I had begun to think it was all
a nightmare.
Between myself and the light in the sentry station I then noticed the
stooping figure of a man bending over as if to conceal himself, and on
his head was the spiked helmet of a German soldier!
I knew then what another narrow escape I had had, for I am quite sure
he would have shot me without ceremony if I had foolishly made myself
known. I would have been buried at once and no one would have been any
the wiser, even though, technically speaking, I was on neutral territory
and immune from capture or attack.
This new shock only served to bewilder me the more. I was completely
lost. There seemed to be frontier behind me and frontier in front of
me. Evidently, however, what had happened was that I had lost my sense
of direction and had wandered in the arc of a circle, returning to the
same fence that I had been so long in getting through. This solution of
the mystery came to me suddenly, and I at once searched the landscape
for something in the way of a landmark to guide me. For once my faithful
friend, the North Star, had failed me. The sky was pitch black and there
wasn't a star in the heavens.
In the distance, at what appeared to be about three miles away, but
which turned out to be six, I could discern the lights of a village, and
I knew that it must be a Dutch village, as lights are not allowed in
Belgium in that indiscriminate way.
My course was now clear. I would make a bee-line for that village.
Before I had gone very far I found myself in a marsh or swamp, and I
turned back a little, hoping to find a better path. Finding none, I
retraced my steps and kept straight ahead, determined to reach that
village at all costs and to swerve neither to the right nor to the left
until I got there.
One moment I would be in water up to my knees and the next I would
sink in clear up to my waist. I paid no attention to my condition. It
was merely a repetition of what I had gone through many times before,
but this time I had a definite goal, and, once I reached it, I knew my
troubles would be over.
It took me perhaps three hours to reach firm ground. The path I struck
led to within half a mile of the village. I shall never forget that
path; it was almost as welcome to my feet as the opposite bank of the
Meuse had seemed.
The first habitation I came to was a little workshop with a bright light
shining outside. It must have been after midnight, but the people inside
were apparently just quitting work. There were three men and two boys
engaged in making wooden shoes.
It wasn't necessary for me to explain to them that I was a refugee, even
if I had been able to speak their language. I was caked with mud up to
my shoulders, and I suppose my face must have recorded some of the
experiences I had gone through that memorable night.
"I want the British consul," I told them.
Apparently they didn't understand, but one of them volunteered to
conduct me to the village. They seemed to be only too anxious to do all
they could for me; evidently they realized I was a British soldier.
It was very late when my companion finally escorted me into the village,
but he aroused some people he knew from their beds and they dressed and
came down to feed me.
The family consisted of an old lady and her husband and a son who was a
soldier in the Dutch army. The cold shivers ran down my back while he
sat beside me, because every now and again I caught a glimpse of his
gray uniform and it resembled very much that of the German soldiers.
Some of the neighbors, aroused by the commotion, got up to see what it
was all about, and came in and watched while I ate the meal those good
Dutch people prepared for me. Ordinarily, I suppose, I would have been
embarrassed with so many people staring at me while I ate, as though I
were some strange animal that had just been captured, but just then I
was too famished to notice or care very much what other people did.
There will always be a warm place in my heart for the Dutch people.
I had heard lots of persons say that they were not inclined to help
refugees, but my experience did not bear these reports out. They
certainly did much more for me than I ever expected.
I had a little German money left, but as the value of German money is
only about half in Holland, I didn't have enough to pay the fare to
Rotterdam, which was my next objective. It was due to the generosity of
these people that I was able to reach the British consul as quickly as
I did. Some day I hope to return to Holland and repay every single soul
who played the part of Good Samaritan to me.
With the money that these people gave me I was able to get a third-class
ticket to Rotterdam, and I am glad that I didn't have enough to travel
first-class, for I would have looked as much out of place in a
first-class carriage as a Hun would appear in heaven.
That night I slept in the house of my Dutch friends, where they fixed
me up most comfortably. In the morning they gave me breakfast and then
escorted me to the station.
While I was waiting in the station a crowd gathered round me, and soon
it seemed as if the whole town had turned out to get a look at me. It
was very embarrassing, particularly as I could give them no information
regarding the cause of my condition, although, of course, they all knew
that I was a refugee from Belgium.
As the train pulled out of the station the crowd gave a loud cheer, and
the tears almost came to my eyes as I contrasted in my mind the conduct
of this crowd and the one that had gathered at the station in Ghent when
I had departed a prisoner en route for the reprisal camp. I breathed a
sigh of relief as I thought of that reprisal camp and how fortunate I
had really been, despite all my suffering, to have escaped it. Now, at
any rate, I was a free man and I would soon be sending home the joyful
news that I had made good my escape.
At Einhoffen two Dutch officers got into the compartment with me. They
looked at me with very much disfavor, not knowing, of course, that I was
a British officer. My clothes were still pretty much in the condition
they were when I crossed the border, although I had been able to scrape
off some of the mud I had collected the night before. I had not shaved
nor trimmed my beard for many days, and I must have presented a sorry
appearance. I could hardly blame them for edging away from me.
The trip from Einhoffen to Rotterdam passed without special incident.
At various stations passengers would get into the compartment and,
observing my unusual appearance, would endeavor to start a conversation
with me. None of them spoke English, however, and they had to use their
own imagination as to my identity.
When I arrived at Rotterdam I asked a policeman who stood in front of
the station where I could find the British consul, but I could not make
him understand. I next applied to a taxicab driver.
"English consul--British consul--American consul--French consul,"
I said, hoping that if he didn't understand one he might recognize
another.
He eyed me with suspicion and motioned me to get in and drove off. I had
no idea where he was taking me, but after a quarter of an hour's ride he
brought up in front of the British consulate. Never before was I so glad
to see the Union Jack!
I beckoned to the chauffeur to go with me up to the office, as I had no
money with which to pay him, and when we got to the consulate I told
them that if they would pay the taxi fare I would tell them who I was
and how I happened to be there.
They knew at once that I was an escaped prisoner and they readily paid
the chauffeur and invited me to give some account of myself.
They treated me most cordially and were intensely interested in the
brief account I gave them of my adventures. Word was sent to the
consul-general, and he immediately sent for me. When I went in he shook
hands with me, greeting me very heartily and offering me a chair.
He then sat down, screwed a monocle on his eye, and viewed me from top
to toe. I could see that only good breeding kept him from laughing at
the spectacle I presented. I could see he wanted to laugh in the worst
way.
"Go ahead and laugh!" I said. "You can't offend me the way I feel this
blessed day!" And he needed no second invitation. Incidentally, it gave
me a chance to laugh at him, for I was about as much amused as he was.
After he had laughed himself about sick he got up and slapped me on the
back and invited me to tell him my story.
"Lieutenant," he said, when I had concluded, "you can have anything you
want. I think your experiences entitle you to it."
"Well, Consul," I replied, "I would like a bath, a shave, a hair-cut,
and some civilized clothes about as badly as a man ever needed them, I
suppose, but before that I would like to get a cable off to America to
my mother, telling her that I am safe and on my way to England."
The consul gave the necessary instructions, and I had the satisfaction
of knowing before I left the office that the cable, with its good
tidings, was on its way to America.
Then he sent for one of the naval men who had been interned there since
the beginning of the war and who was able to speak Dutch, and told him
to take good care of me.
After I had been bathed and shaved and had a hair-cut, I bought some new
clothes and had something to eat, and I felt like a new man.
As I walked through the streets of Rotterdam, breathing the air of
freedom again and realizing that there was no longer any danger of being
captured and taken back to prison, it was a wonderful sensation.
I don't believe there will ever be a country that will appear in my
eyes quite as good as Holland did then. I had to be somewhat careful,
however, because Holland was full of German spies, and I knew they
would be keen to learn all they possibly could about my escape and my
adventures, so that the authorities in Belgium could mete out punishment
to every one who was in any respect to blame for it. As I was in
Rotterdam only a day, they didn't have very much opportunity to learn
anything from me.
The naval officer who accompanied me and acted as interpreter for me
introduced me to many other soldiers and sailors who had escaped from
Belgium when the Germans took Antwerp, and as they had arrived in
Holland in uniform and under arms the laws of neutrality compelled their
internment, and they had been there ever since.
The life of a man who is interned in a neutral country, I learned, is
anything but satisfactory. He gets one month a year to visit his home.
If he lives in England, that is not so bad, but if he happens to live
farther away, the time he has to spend with his folks is very short, as
the month's leave does not take into consideration the time consumed in
traveling to and from Holland.
The possibility of escape from internment is always there, but the
British authorities have an agreement with the Dutch government to send
refugees back immediately. In this respect, therefore, the position of
a man who is interned is worse than that of a prisoner who, if he does
succeed in making his escape, is naturally received with open arms in
his native land. Apart from this restraint, however, internment, with
all its drawbacks, is a thousand times--yes, a million times better than
being a prisoner of war in Germany.
It seems to me that when the war is over and the men who have been
imprisoned in Germany return home they should be given a bigger and
greater reception than the most victorious army that ever marched into a
city, for they will have suffered and gone through more than the world
will ever be able to understand.
No doubt you will find in the German prison-camps one or two
faint-hearted individuals with a pronounced yellow streak who
voluntarily gave up the struggle and gave up their liberty rather than
risk their lives or limbs. These sad cases, however, are, I am sure,
extremely few. Nine hundred and ninety-nine out of a thousand of the men
fighting in the Allied lines would rather be in the front-line trenches,
fighting every day, with all the horrors and all the risks, than be a
prisoner of war in Germany, for the men in France have a very keen
realization of what that means.
But to return to my day in Rotterdam.
After I was fixed up I returned to the consulate and arrangements were
made for my transportation to England at once. Fortunately there was a
boat leaving that very night, and I was allowed to take passage on it.