CROSSING THE RIVER HUNTE AND THE TOWN OF "DOGS"
After the morning's rest in the copse, and the great increase in
warmth due to the sun, which soon caused us to feel very thirsty, we
thought that a move during the afternoon would not be too risky as the
country was of a very wild deserted appearance hereabouts, and our
need of water was a matter to be dealt with as soon as possible.
Accordingly at 3 p.m. we moved out of our hiding-place and very soon
found a pump by a cowshed in a field. We drank and filled up our
water-bottles and then hid again in a wood close by.
We were much worried while drawing water by a large herd of cows. They
must have been very thirsty, as they crowded round us and whenever we
moved towards them would gallop off for a few yards and then return.
We were afraid lest this behaviour on their part had been seen and
would cause comment or even worse among any farm people who might be
within view of the shed.
While lying hidden in the wood the sound of axes being used near us
came to our ears. This was not very disturbing though, and we managed
to pass a peaceful evening talking in the sunlight; quite a restful
feeling stole over one; life for the moment was not the strenuous
thing it had been for so many days.
The songs of birds and the buzzing of insects combined to lend a
peaceful atmosphere to the surroundings. A deer appeared from the
interior of the wood and quietly went about its feeding as if we did
not exist. If only one could have known that the future was to be
favourable, and that success was to crown our effort, it would have
been even extremely enjoyable in that wood.
But misgivings and forebodings of evil were natural to us, and robbed
us of the full amount of pleasure we might otherwise have enjoyed in
such a pleasant entourage.
In the evening clouds began to drift up and eventually a slight
drizzle began to descend, but not sufficiently copious to make us
miserable.
At 10 p.m. we began our night's march, and worked forward to the
western edge of the wood; from here we were able to look out over a
wide stretch of pasture and cornland.
In the distance a railway line crossed the field of vision. A
beautiful wild sunset cast a golden light on the country-side. A road
ran close by the wood and we waited till the light should die in the
sky before crossing it.
At last we were well away, and reached the railway we had previously
seen, which we crossed a moment before two trains rumbled past. One
of these was a heavily laden munition train, the other much lighter.
After leaving the railway we took to a lane which eventually brought
us out into the main road. Just before debouching on to this, Fox and
I both heard a bicycle coming along the road, and we dived into the
long grass at the side of the road. Blank, however, did not hear it
and blundered straight into the cyclist, a woman, before he could
stop.
Fortunately his "Guten Abend" was sufficiently German to pass, and the
cyclist continued her way after answering him with the same words. We
caught him up some ten minutes later, and then cut across country. A
farm loomed up in front of us and we bore to one side of it, but not
before the ubiquitous dog made the night hideous with its barking, so
we passed on with as little noise as possible.
Soon after this a stream barred our way. A rapid search for a bridge
did not bring one to light, so there was nothing for it but to get
wet. However, Fox had a plan whereby two of us might be saved a
wetting. He being the heaviest was to strip and stand in the middle of
the stream while we crossed over, using his shoulders as a
stepping-stone. When he got into the stream he found the bottom very
muddy and the water came up to his chest.
I was to try the 'stunt' first. All the food bags, etc., were carried
across, and then Fox stood ready to do his part. Stepping well out
from the bank and placing one foot on his shoulder I reached down
until I could catch hold of his hands and waited for his signal. At
the word, I sprang, he simultaneously throwing me, and before I had
time to realise anything, I found myself rolling over and over on the
other side. The timing had been perfect and I had landed completely
dry.
Blank was also got across successfully, and then the two of us pulled
Fox out. But not without an effort, as one of his feet had got well
embedded in the mud. He told us then that a large stone had prevented
the other from getting similarly stuck.
Rapid marching was the order after this episode, and we covered a
great distance in an extraordinarily short space of time.
We had omitted to fill our water-bottles at the last stream, and this
burst of speed soon made us painfully aware of it. Finally we found
some appalling water in a ditch at the road side, but only by digging a
hole in the mud, could sufficient be got to fill a water-bottle. This
water was naturally very muddy and full of those little beetle things
that rush about the surface of stagnant pools--'water-boatmen'--I think
they are called. I know I felt them running about the inside of my
mouth when I drank.
_Wednesday, 27th June._ We were now approaching the Hunte river. This
river is not very large, but is sufficiently formidable to require
swimming if no bridge or boat is used. Therefore, finding on a map
that a bridge crossed it at a certain spot miles from anywhere of
importance, or anywhere at all for that matter, we had decided that it
would in all probability be unguarded.
It was clear now that we were getting near this bridge. A dense mist
overhung the valley through which the river ran, and made it easier
for us to approach. I, having the best coloured costume and the
lightest footwear, went a few yards ahead of the others to reconnoitre
the bridge.
Cautiously approaching it, I was delighted to find that no guards were
posted there, and we got across without difficulty. A few miles
further on, our westerly line would bring us to a small country town,
which must be nameless.
The country in this district was covered with corn, and knowing that a
detour through these corn-fields to avoid the town would mean an hour
or more of delay, we decided to run the risk and walk through the
streets of the town itself.
All went well at first. The town seemed absolutely deserted, and we
crept along in the shadows where practicable, choosing the dusty
gutters and grassy patches at the side of the road in order to make as
little noise as possible. We reached a kind of square towards the
centre of the town, when Blank stumbled over a cobble-stone, a not
unusual thing for him to do, which called forth various cryptic
whispers from Fox; at that moment, out of a dark shadow on the right
of the road, a great dog slowly emerged.
With hackles bristling and teeth bared he approached us, emitting
savage growls. The only thing to be done was to walk straight past him
making no noise. This we did, passing within two yards of the beast.
It seemed to scare him for he stopped and when we had got well past
began barking furiously.
Then it was that we discovered that the place was stiff with dogs. The
din made by their combined barking was absolutely awe-inspiring.
Every dark corner seemed to contain a dog.
Shapes flitted about near us, and one got the impression that they
were collecting for a combined attack. It was no use going quietly
now, so we put on speed and rushed through the place. Nobody came out
into the streets, however, but the blinds over a lighted window were
pulled aside, disclosing a face which peered out into the darkness at
us.
After ten minutes of apprehension we gained the outskirts of the town,
where the last of our doggy foes stood to meet us right in the centre
of the road.
He was a large bristly animal and had a particularly nasty note in his
growl.
We adopted the same procedure with him, and after waiting till we were
almost on top of him he turned tail and fled.
We were clear of that town now, but vowed never again to run such a
risk.
My experience of German dogs at night, by no means slight, causes me
to think that they bark so much and so often, generally at nothing,
that their owners take absolutely no notice of them. It is a case of
"Wolf! Wolf!" in real life.
Of course, the tired-out state of an over-worked and insufficiently
fed population must make rising in the small hours of the night, to
see what the dog is barking about, even less popular than is usually
the case. Anyway we profited.
Leaving the vicinity of the town at the same great speed for fear of
pursuit, we soon placed several miles between the scene of this, our
latest fright, and the wooded country we now struck.
It had become light by now, so we had to search for a hiding-place at
once. This we found in a hollow filled with undergrowth, an offshoot
of a wood surrounded by corn and potato fields.
We were very tired, but quite pleased with our progress, as we must
have done well over twenty miles from the time we began our march at
10 p.m. A day of sun and warmth made the drying of clothes, socks, and
boots an easy matter.