A Canadian Boy's Experience in Germany. (2024)

race, class, gender, religion

Books by Nellie L. McClung
PUBLISHED BY
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY

THREE TIMES AND OUT: A CANADIAN BOY'S EXPERIENCE IN GERMANY. Illustrated.

THE NEXT OF KIN.

THREE TIMES AND OUT
A Canadian Boy's Experience
in Germany.

Private Simmons

THREE TIMES AND OUT

TOLD BY
PRIVATE SIMMONS

WRITTEN BY
NELLIE L. MCCLUNG
Author of SOWING SEEDS IN DANNY, IN TIMES LIKE THESE,and THE NEXT OF KIN

With Illustrations

BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
The Riverside Press Cambridge
1918

COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY NELLIE L. MCCLUNG
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Published November 1918

PREFACE

WHEN a young man whom I had not seen until thatday came to see me in Edmonton, and told me he hada story which he thought was worth writing, and whichhe wanted me to write for him, I told him I could notundertake to do it for I was writing a story of my own,but that I could no doubt find some one who would doit for him.

Then he mentioned that he was a returned soldier, andhad been for sixteen months a prisoner in Germany, andhad made his escape –

That changed everything!

I asked him to come right in and tell me all about it – for like every one else I have friends in the prison-campsof Germany, boys whom I remember as little chaps inknickers playing with my children, boys I taught incountry schools in Manitoba, boys whose parents aremy friends. There are many of these whom we know tobe prisoners, and there are some who have been listedas "missing," who we are still hoping against long oddsmay be prisoners!

I asked him many questions. How were they treated?Did they get enough to eat? Did they get their parcels?Were they very lonely? Did he by any chance know aboy from Vancouver called Wallen Gordon, who hadbeen "Missing" since the 2d of June, 1916? Or Reg Black from Manitou? or Garnet Stewart from Winnipeg?

Unfortunately, he did not.

Then he began his story. Before he had gone far, Ihad determined to do all I could to get his story intoprint, for it seemed to me to be a story that should bewritten. It gives at least a partial answer to the anxiousquestionings that are in so many hearts. It tells ussomething of the fate of the brave fellows who have,temporarily, lost their freedom – to make our freedomsecure!

Private Simmons is a close and accurate observer whosees clearly and talks well. He tells a straightforward,unadorned tale, every sentence of which is true, and convincing. I venture to hope that the reader may have asmuch pleasure in the reading of it as I had in the writing.

NELLIE L. McCLUNG

Edmonton, October 24, 1918

CONTENTS

ILLUSTRATIONS

THREE TIMES AND OUT

CHAPTER I
HOW IT STARTED

"ENGLAND has declared war on Germany!"

We were working on a pumphouse, on the ColumbiaRiver, at Trail, British Columbia, when these wordswere shouted at us from the door by the boss carpenter,who had come down from the smelter to tell us that thenews had just come over the wire.

Every one stopped work, and for a full minute nota word was spoken. Then Hill, a British reservist whowas my work-mate, laid down his hammer and put onhis coat. There was neither haste nor excitement in hismovements, but a settled conviction that gave me aqueer feeling. I began to argue just where we had leftoff, for the prospect of war had been threshed out forthe last two days with great thoroughness. "It willbe settled," I said. "Nations cannot go to war now.It would be suicide, with all the modern methods ofdestruction. It will be settled by a war council – andall forgotten in a month."

Hill, who had argued so well a few minutes ago andtold us all the reasons he had for expecting war withGermany, would not waste a word on me now. England was at war – and he was part of England's warmachine.

"I am quitting, George," he said to the boss carpenter, as he pulled his cap down on his head andstarted up the bank.

That night he began to drill us in the skating-rink.

I worked on for about a week, but from the first Idetermined to go if any one went from Canada. I don'tsuppose it was all patriotism. Part of it was the loveof adventure, and a desire to see the world; for thoughI was a steady-going carpenter chap, I had manydreams as I worked with hammer and saw, and oneof them was that I would travel far and see how peoplelived in other countries. The thought of war had always been repellent to me, and many an argumentI had had with the German baker in whose house Iroomed, on the subject of compulsory military training for boys. He often pointed out a stoop-shouldered,hollow-chested boy who lived on the same street, andtold me that if this boy had lived in Germany he wouldhave walked straighter and developed a chest, insteadof slouching through life the way he was doing. Heand his wife and the grown-up daughter were devotedto their country, and often told us of how well theworking-people were housed in Germany and the affairsof the country conducted.

But I think the war was as great a surprise to themas to us, and although the two women told us we werefoolish to go to fight – it was no business of ours ifEngland wanted to get into a row – it made no difference in our friendly relations, and the day we leftClara came to the station with a box of candy. I suppose if we had known as much then as we do now aboutGerman diplomacy, we should n't have eaten it, butwe only knew then that Clara's candy was the bestgoing, and so we ate it, and often wished for more.

I have since heard, however, of other Germans inCanada who knew more of their country's plans, andopenly spoke of them. One of these, employed by theGovernment, told the people in the office where heworked that when Germany got hold of Canada, shewould straighten out the crooked streets in our townsand not allow shacks to be built on the good streets,and would see to it that houses were not crowded together; and the strangest part of it is that the peopleto whom he spoke attached no importance whateverto his words until the war came and the Germanmysteriously disappeared.

I never really enlisted, for we had no recruiting meetings in Trail before I left. We went to the skating-rink the first night, about fifteen of us, and began todrill. Mr. Schofield, Member of the Provincial Parliament, and Hill were in charge, and tested our marksmanship as well. They graded us according to physicaltests, marksmanship, and ability to pick up the drill,and I was quite pleased to find I was Number "One"on the list.

There was a young Italian boy named AdolphMilachi, whom we called "Joe," who came to drill the first night, and although he could not speak muchEnglish, he was determined to be a soldier. I do notknow what grudge little Joe had against the Germans, whether it was just the love of adventure whichurged him on, but he overruled all objections to his going and left with the others of us, on the last day ofAugust.

I remember that trip through the mountains in thatsoft, hazy, beautiful August weather; the mountain-tops, white with snow, were wrapped about with purple mist which twisted and shifted as if never satisfiedwith their draping. The sheer rocks in the mountain-sides, washed by a recent rain, were streaked withdull reds and blues and yellows, like the old-fashionedrag carpet. The rivers whose banks we followed ranblue and green, and icy cold, darting sometimes sosharply under the track that it jerked one's neck tofollow them; and then the stately evergreens marchedalways with us, like endless companies of soldiers orpilgrims wending their way to a favorite shrine.

When we awakened the second morning, and foundourselves on the wide prairie of Alberta, with its manyharvest scenes and herds of cattle, and the gardens allin bloom, one of the boys said, waving his hand at aparticularly handsome house set in a field of ripe wheat,"No wonder the Germans want it!"

My story really begins April 24, 1915. Up to thattime it had been the usual one – the training in England, with all the excitement of week-end leave; thegreat kindness of English families whose friends inCanada had written to them about us, and who hadforthwith sent us their invitations to visit them, whichwe did with the greatest pleasure, enjoying everyminute spent in their beautiful houses; and then thegreatest thrill of all – when we were ordered to France.

The 24th of April was a beautiful spring day ofquivering sunshine, which made the soggy ground inthe part of Belgium where I was fairly steam. The grasswas green as plush, and along the front of the trenches,where it had not been trodden down, there were yellowbuttercups and other little spring flowers whose namesI did not know.

We had dug the trenches the day before, and theground was so marshy and wet that water began toooze in before we had dug more than three feet. Thenwe had gone on the other side and thrown up moredirt, to make a better parapet, and had carried sand-bags from an old artillery dug-out. Four strands ofbarbed wire were also put up in front of our trenches, asa sort of suggestion of barbed-wire entanglements, butwe knew we had very little protection.

Early in the morning of the 24th, a German aeroplane flew low over our trench, so low that I could seethe man quite plainly, and could easily have shot him,but we had orders not to fire – the object of theseorders being that we must not give away our position.

The airman saw us, of course, for he looked rightdown at us, and dropped down white pencils of smoke toshow the gunners where we were. That big gray beetlesailing serenely over us, boring us with his sharp eyes,and spying out our pitiful attempts at protection, isone of the most unpleasant feelings I have ever had.It gives me the shivers yet! And to think we hadorders not to fire!

Being a sniper, I had a rifle fixed up with a telescopic sight, which gave me a fine view of what wasgoing on, and in order not to lose the benefit of it, Icleaned out a place in a hedge, which was just in frontof the part of the trench I was in, and in this way Icould see what was happening, at least in my immediatevicinity.

We knew that the Algerians who were holding atrench to our left had given way and stampeded, asa result of a German gas attack on the night of April22d. Not only had the front line broken, but, the panicspreading, all of them ran, in many cases leaving theirrifles behind them. Three companies of our battalionhad been hastily sent in to the gap caused by the flightof the Algerians. Afterwards I heard that our artilleryhad been hurriedly withdrawn so that it might not fallinto the hands of the enemy; but we did not know thatat the time, though we wondered, as the day went on,why we got no artillery support.

Before us, and about fifty yards away, were desertedfarm buildings, through whose windows I had instructions to send shots at intervals, to discourage the enemyfrom putting in machine guns. To our right there wereother farm buildings where the Colonel and Adjutantwere stationed, and in the early morning I was sentthere with a message from Captain Scudamore, to seewhy our ammunition had not come up.

I found there Colonel Hart McHarg, Major Odlum(now Brigadier-General Odlum), and the Adjutant inconsultation, and thought they looked worried andanxious. However, they gave me a cheerful message forCaptain Scudamore. It was very soon after that thatColonel Hart McHarg was killed.

The bombardment began at about nine o'clock in themorning, almost immediately after the airman's visit,and I could see the heavy shells bursting in the villageat the cross-roads behind us. They were throwing thebig shells there to prevent reinforcements from comingup. They evidently did not know, any more than wedid, that there were none to come, the artillery havingbeen withdrawn the night before.

Some of the big shells threw the dirt as high as thehighest trees. When the shells began to fall in our partof the trench, I crouched as low as I could in the soggyearth, to escape the shrapnel bullets. Soon I got toknow the sound of the battery that was dropping theshells on us, and so knew when to take cover. One ofour boys to my left was hit by a pebble on the cheek,and, thinking he was wounded, he fell on the groundand called for a stretcher-bearer. When the stretcher-bearer came, he could find nothing but a scratch on hischeek, and all of us who were not too scared had alaugh, including the boy himself.

I think it was about one o'clock in the afternoon thatthe Germans broke through the trench on our right,where Major Bing-Hall was in command; and some ofthe survivors from that trench came over to ours.One of them ran right to where I was, and pushedthrough the hole I had made in the hedge, to get a shotat the enemy. I called to him to be careful, but somesniper evidently saw him, for in less than half a minutehe was shot dead, and fell at my side.

An order to "retreat if necessary" had been receivedbefore this, but for some reason, which I have neverbeen able to understand, was not put into effect untilquite a while after being received. When the ordercame, we began to move down the trench as fast as wecould, but as the trench was narrow and there werewounded and dead men in it, our progress was slow.

Soon I saw Robinson, Smith, and Ward climbing outof the trench and cutting across the field. This was,of course, dangerous, for we were in full view of theenemy, but it was becoming more and more evidentthat we were in a tight corner. So I climbed out, too,and ran across the open as fast as I could go with myequipment. I got just past the hedge when I was hitthrough the pocket of my coat. I thought I waswounded, for the blow was severe, but found out afterwards the bullet had just passed through my coatpocket.

I kept on going, but in a few seconds I got a bulletright through my shoulder. It entered below my armat the back, and came out just below the shoulder-bone, making a clean hole right through.

I fell into a shallow shell-hole, which was just thesize to take me in, and as I lay there, the possibility ofcapture first came to me. Up to that time I had neverthought of it as a possible contingency; but now, as Ilay wounded, the grave likelihood came home to me.

I scrambled to my feet, resolved to take any chancesrather than be captured. I have an indistinct recollection of what happened for the next few minutes. Iknow I ran from shell-hole to shell-hole, obsessed withthe one great fear – of being captured – and at lastreached the reserve trench, in front. I fell over theparapet, among and indeed right on top of the men whowere there, for the trench was packed full of soldiers,and then quickly gathered myself together and climbedout of the trench and crawled along on my stomachto the left, following the trench to avoid the bullets,which I knew were flying over me.

Soon I saw, looking down into the trench, some of theboys I knew, and I dropped in beside them. Theneverything went from me. A great darkness arose upfrom somewhere and swallowed me! Then I had adelightful sensation of peace and warmth and general comfort. Darkness, the blackest, inkiest darkness,rolled over me in waves and hid me so well no JackJohnson or Big Bertha could ever find me. I had n't a care or a thought in the world. I was light as afeather, and these great strong waves of darkness carried me farther and farther away.

But they did n't carry me quite far enough, for acry shot through me like a knife, and I was wide awake,looking up from the bottom of a muddy trench. Andthe cry that wakened me was sounding up and downthe trench, "The Germans are coming!"

Sergeant Reid, who did not seem to realize howdesperate the situation was, was asking Major Bing-Hall what he was going to do. But before any morecould be said, the Germans were swarming over thetrench. The officer in charge of them gave us a chanceto surrender, which we did, and then it seemed likea hundred voices – harsh, horrible voices – called to usto come out of the trench. "Raus" is the word theyuse, pronounced "rouse."

This was the first German word I had heard, andI hated it. It is the word they use to a dog when theywant him to go out, or to cattle they are chasing outof a field. It is used to mean either "Come out!" – or "Get out!" I hated it that day, and I hated it stillmore afterward.

There were about twenty of us altogether, and weclimbed out of the trench without speaking. Therewas nothing to be said. It was all up with us.

CHAPTER II
THROUGH BELGIUM

IT is strange how people act in a crisis. I mean, it isstrange how quiet they are, and composed. We stoodthere on the top of the trench, without speaking, although I knew what had happened to us was bittererfar than to be shot. But there was not a word spoken.I remember noticing Fred McKelvey, when the Germanwho stood in front of him told him to take off his equipment. Fred's manner was halting, and reluctant, andhe said, as he laid down his rifle and unbuckled hiscartridge bag, "This is the thing my father told menever to let happen."

Just then the German who stood by me said something to me, and pointed to my equipment, but I couldn't unfasten a buckle with my useless arm, so I askedhim if he could n't see I was wounded. He seemed tounderstand what I meant, and unbuckled my strapsand took everything off me, very gently, too, andwhipped out my bandage and was putting it on myshoulder with considerable skill, I thought, and certainly with a gentle hand – when the order came fromtheir officer to move us on, for the shells were fallingall around us.

Unfortunately for me, my guard did not come withus, nor did I ever see him again. One of the othersreached over and took my knife, cutting the string asunconcernedly as if I wanted him to have it, and Iremember that this one had a saw-bayonet on his gun,as murderous and cruel-looking a weapon as any onecould imagine, and he had a face to match it, too.So in the first five minutes I saw the two kinds ofGermans.

When we were out of the worst of the shell-fire, westopped to rest, and, a great dizziness coming over me,I sat down with my head against a tree, and looked upat the trailing rags of clouds that drifted across the sky.It was then about four o'clock of as pleasant an afternoon as I can ever remember. But the calmness of thesky, with its deep blue distance, seemed to shrivel me upinto nothing. The world was so bright, and blue, and – uncaring!

I may have fallen asleep for a few minutes, for Ithought I heard McKelvey saying, "Dad always toldme not to let this happen." Over and over again, Icould hear this, but I don't know whether McKelveyhad repeated it. My brain was like a phonograph thatsticks at one word and says it over and over againuntil some one stops it.

I think it was Mudge, of Grand Forks, who cameover to see how I was. His voice sounded thin and faraway, and I did n't answer him. Then I felt him takingoff my overcoat and finishing the bandaging that theGerman boy had begun.

Little Joe, the Italian boy, often told me afterwardshow I looked at that time. "All same dead chickennot killed right and kep' long time."

Here those who were not so badly wounded weremarched on, but there were ten of us so badly hit wehad to go very slowly. Percy Weller, one of the boysfrom Trail who enlisted when I did, was with us, andwhen we began the march I was behind him and noticed three holes in the back of his coat; the middleone was a horrible one made by shrapnel. He staggered painfully, poor chap, and his left eye was gone!

We passed a dead Canadian Highlander, whose kilthad pitched forward when he fell, and seemed to becovering his face.

In the first village we came to, they halted us, andwe saw it was a dressing-station. The village was inruins – even the town pump had had its head blownoff! – and broken glass, pieces of brick, and plasterlittered the one narrow street. The dressing was donein a two-room building which may have been a store.The walls were discolored and cracked, and the windows broken.

On a stretcher in the corner there lay a CanadianHighlander, from whose wounds the blood drippedhorribly and gathered in a red pool on the dusty floor.His eyes were glazed and his face was drawn with pain.He talked unceasingly, but without meaning. Theonly thing I remember hearing him say was, "It's nouse, mother – it's no use!"

Weller was attended to before I was, and marchedon. While I sat there on an old tin pail which I hadturned up for this purpose, two German officers camein, whistling. They looked for a minute at the dyingHighlander in the corner, and one of them went overto him. He saw at once that his case was hopeless, andgave a short whistle as you do when blowing away athistledown, indicating that he would soon be gone.I remember thinking that this was the German estimateof human life.

He came to me and said, "Well, what have you got?"

I thought he referred to my wound, and said, "Ashoulder wound." At which he laughed pleasantly andsaid, "I am not interested in your wound; that's thedoctor's business." Then I saw what he meant; it wassouvenirs he was after. So I gave him my collar badge,and in return he gave me a German coin, and wentover to the doctor and said something about me, forhe flipped his finger toward me.

My turn came at last. The doctor examined my pay-book as well as my wound. I had forty-five francs init, and when he took it out, I thought it was gone forsure. However, he carefully counted it before me, drawing my attention to the amount, and then returned itto me.

After my wound had been examined and a tag puton me stating what sort of treatment I was to have, Iwas taken away with half a dozen others and leddown a narrow stone stair to a basem*nt. Here on thecement floor were piles of straw, and the place washeated. The walls were dirty and discolored. One ofthe few pleasant recollections of my life in Germany hasbeen the feeling of drowsy content that wrapped meabout when I lay down on a pile of straw in that dirty,rat-infested basem*nt. I forgot that I was a prisoner,that I was badly winged, that I was hungry, thirsty,dirty, and tired. I forgot all about my wounded companions and the Canadian Highlander, and all thesuffering of the world, and drifted sweetly out intothe wide ocean of sleep.

Some time during the night – for it was still dark – I felt some one kicking my feet and calling me to getup, and all my trouble and misery came back with arush. My shoulder began to ache just where it left off,but I was so hungry that the thought of getting something to eat sustained me. Surely, I thought, theyare going to feed us!

We were herded along the narrow street, out into awide road, where we found an open car which ran onlight rails in the centre of the road. It was like thepicnic trolley cars which run in our cities in the warmweather. There were wounded German soldiers huddled together, and we sat down among them, whereverwe could find the room, but not a word was spoken.I don't know whether they noticed who we were ornot – they had enough to think about, not to beconcerned with us, for most of them were terriblywounded. The one I sat beside leaned his head againstmy good shoulder and sobbed as he breathed. I couldnot help but think of the irony of war that had broughtus together. For all I knew, he may have been the machine gunner who had been the means of ripping myshoulder to pieces – and it may have been a bulletfrom my rifle which had torn its way along his leg whichnow hung useless. Even so, there was no hard feelingbetween us, and he was welcome to the support of mygood shoulder!

Some time through the night – my watch was broken and I could n't tell the time exactly – we cameto another village and got off the car. A guard cameand carried off my companion, but as I could walk,I was left to unload myself. The step was high, andas my shoulder was very stiff and sore, I hesitated aboutjumping down. A big German soldier saw me, understood what was wrong, and lifted me gently down.

It was then nearly morning, for the dawn was beginning to show in the sky, and we were taken to an oldchurch, where we were told to lie down and go to sleep.It was miserably cold in the church, and my shoulderached fearfully. I tried hard to sleep, but could n'tmanage it, and walked up and down to keep warm.I could n't help but think of the strange use the church – which had been the scene of so many pleasant gatherings – was being put to, and as I leaned against thewall and looked out of the window, I seemed to see thegay and light-hearted Belgian people who so recentlyhad gathered there. Right here, I thought, the bashfulboys had stood, waiting to walk home with the girls...just the way we did in British Columbia, where onechurch I know well stands almost covered with thefragrant pines...

I fell into a pleasant reverie then of sunny afternoons and dewy moonlit nights, when the sun had goneover the mountains, and the stars came out in hundreds. My dream then began to have in it the brightest-eyed girl in the world, who gave me such a smileone Sunday when she came out of church... that Ijust naturally found myself walking beside her.... Shehad on a pink suit and white shoes, and wore a longstring of black beads...

Then somebody spoke to me, and a sudden chillseized me and sent me into a spasm of coughing, andthe pain of my shoulder shot up into my head like aknife... and I was back – all right – to the ruinedchurch in Belgium, a prisoner of war in the hands ofthe Germans!

The person who spoke to me was a German cavalryofficer, who quite politely bade me good-morning andasked me how I felt. I told him I felt rotten. I wasboth hungry and thirsty – and dirty and homesick.He laughed at that, as if it were funny, and asked mewhere I came from. When I told him, he said, "YouCanadians are terrible fools to fight with us when youdon't have to. You'll be sick of it before you arethrough. Canada is a nice country, though," he wenton; "I 've been in British Columbia, too, in the Government employ there – they treated me fine – and mybrother is there now, engineer in the Dunsmuir Collieries at Ladysmith. Great people – the Canadians!"

And he laughed again and said something in Germanto the officer who was with him.

When the sun came up and poured into the church,warming up its cold dreariness, I lay down and slept,for I had not nearly finished the sleep so comfortablybegun in the basem*nt the night before.

But in what seemed like three minutes, some onekicked my feet and called to me to get up. I got to myfeet, still spurred by the hope of getting something toeat. Outside, all those who could walk were fallingin, and I hastened to do the same. Our guards weremounted this time, and I noticed that their horses weresmall and in poor condition. We were soon out of thevillage and marching along a splendid road.

The day was bright and sunny, but a searching windblew straight in our faces and made travelling difficult.It seemed to beat unmercifully on my sore shoulder,and I held my right wrist with my left hand, to keepthe weight off my shoulder all I could.

I had not gone far when I began to grow weak anddizzy. The thirst was the worst; my tongue was dry andswollen, and it felt like a cocoa doormat. I could seerings of light wherever I looked, and the ground seemedto come up in waves. A guard who rode near me hada water-bottle beside him. which dripped water. Thecork was not in tight as it should have been, and thesight of these drops of water seemed to madden me. Ibegged him for a drink, and pointed to my parchedtongue; but he refused, and rode ahead as if the sightof me annoyed him!

Ahead of us I could see the smoke of a large town, andI told myself over and over again that there would belots of water there, and food and clean clothes, and inthis way I kept myself alive until we reached Roulers.

CHAPTER III
INTO GERMANY

ROULERS is a good-sized town in West Flanders, ofabout thirty thousand population, much noted for itslinen manufacture; and has a great church of St. Michaelwith a very high tower, which we could see for miles.But I do not remember much about the look of thetown, for I could hardly drag my feet. It seemed as ifevery step would be my last. But I held on some way,until we reached the stopping-place, which happenedto be an unused school. The men who had not beenwounded had arrived several hours ahead of us.

When, at last, I sat down on one of the benches, thewhole place seemed to float by me. Nothing wouldstand still. The sensation was like the water dizzinesswhich makes one feel he is being rapidly propelledupstream. But after sitting awhile, it passed, and Ibegan to recognize some of our fellows. Frost, of myown battalion, was there, and when I told him I hadhad nothing to eat since the early morning of the daybefore, he immediately produced a hardtack biscuitand scraped out the bottom of his jam tin. They hadbeen served with a ration of war-bread, and several ofthe boys offered me a share of their scanty allowance,but the first mouthful was all I could take. It wassour, heavy, and stale.

The school pump had escaped the fate of the lastpump I had seen, and was in good working order, andits asthmatic creaking as it brought up the stream ofwater was music in my ears. We went out in turns anddrank like thirsty cattle. I drank until my jaws werestiff as if with mumps, and my ears ached, and in afew minutes my legs were tied in cramps.

While I was vainly trying to rub them out with myone good hand, Fred McKelvey came up and told mea sure cure for leg-cramp. It is to turn the toes upas far as possible, and straighten out the legs, and itworked a cure for me. He said he had taken the crampsout of his legs this way when he was in the water.

I remember some of the British Columbia boys whowere there. Sergeants Potentier, George Fitz, andMudge, of Grand Forks; Reid, Diplock, and Johnson,of Vancouver; Munroe and Wildblood, of Rossland;Keith, Palmer, Larkins, Scott, and Croak. CaptainScudamore, my Company Captain, came over to whereI sat, and kindly inquired about my wounds. He wrotedown my father's address, too, and said he would tryto get a letter to him.

There was a house next door – quite a fine housewith a neat paling and long, shuttered windows, atwhich the vines were beginning to grow. It looked tobe in good condition, except that part of the verandahhad been torn away. The shutters were closed on itslong, graceful windows, giving it the appearance of atall, stately woman in heavy mourning.

When we were at the pump, we heard a gentle tapping, and, looking up, we saw a very handsome dark-eyed Belgian woman at one of the windows. Instinctively we saluted, and quick as a flash she held a UnionJack against the pane!

A cheer broke from us involuntarily, and the guardssprang to attention, suspecting trouble. But the flagwas gone as quickly as it came, and when we lookedagain, the shutters were closed and the deep, waitingsilence had settled down once more on the stately houseof shutters.

But to us it had become suddenly possessed of a livingsoul! The flash of those sad black eyes, as well as theglimpse of the flag, seemed to call to us to carry on!They typified to us exactly what we were fighting for!

After the little incident of the flag, it was wonderful how bright and happy we felt. Of course, I know,the ministrations of the pump helped, for we not onlydrank all we wanted, but most of the boys had a wash,too; but we just needed to be reminded once in awhileof what the real issues of the war were.

Later in the day, after we had been examined byanother medical man, who dressed our wounds veryskillfully, and gently, too, we came back to the school,and found there two heavily veiled Belgian women.They had bars of chocolate for us, for which we werevery grateful. They were both in deep mourning, andseemed to have been women of high social position,but their faces were very pale and sad, and when theyspoke their voices were reedy and broken, and theireyes were black pools of misery. Some of the boysafterwards told me that their daughters had beencarried off by the Germans, and their husbands shotbefore their eyes.

I noticed the absence of children and young girls onthe streets. There were only old men and women, itseemed, and the faces of these were sad beyond expression. There were no outbursts of grief; they seemedlike people whose eyes were cried dry, but whose spiritswere still unbroken.

Later in the day we were taken to the station, totake the train for the prison-camp at Giessen. Ofcourse, they did not tell us where we were going. Theydid not squander information on us or satisfy our curiosity, if they could help it.

The station was full of people when we got there,and there seemed to be a great deal of eating done atthe stations. This was more noticeable still in Germanstations, as I saw afterwards.

Our mode of travelling was by the regular prisonertrain which had lately – quite lately – been occupiedby horses. It had two small, dirty windows, and thefloor was bare of everything but dirt. We were dumpedinto it – not like sardines, for they fit comfortablytogether, but more like cordwood that is thrown together without being piled. If we had not had arms orlegs or heads, there would have been just room for ourbodies, but as it was, everybody was in everybody'sway, and as many of us were wounded, and all of uswere tired and hungry, we were not very amiable witheach other.

I tried to stand up, but the jolting of the car made medizzy, and so I doubled up on the floor, and I don'tknow how many people sat on me. I remember oneof the boys I knew, who was beside me on the floor,Fairy Strachan. He had a bad wound in his chest,given him by a dog of a German guard, who proddedhim with a bayonet after he was captured, for no reasonat all. Fortunately the bayonet struck a rib, and so thewound was not deep, but not having been dressed, itwas very painful.

I could not sleep at all that night, for the air wasstifling, and somebody's arm or foot or head was alwaysbumping into me. I wonder if Robinson Crusoe everremembered to be thankful for fresh air and room tostretch himself! We asked the guards for water, forwe soon grew very thirsty, and when we stopped at astation, one of the boys, looking out, saw the guardcoming with a pail of water, and cried out, "Here'swater – boys!" The thought of a drink put new lifein us, and we scrambled to our feet. It was water, allright, and plenty of it, but it was boiling hot andwe could not drink it; and we could not tell from thelook of opaque stupidity on the face of the guardwhether he did it intentionally or not. He may havebeen a boiling-water-before-meals advocate. He lookedbalmy enough for anything!

Officers' Quarters in a German Military Prison

At some of the stations the civilians standing on theplatform filled our water-bottles for us, but it was n'tenough. We had only two water-bottles in the wholecar. However, at Cologne, a boy came quickly to thecar window at our call, and filled our water-bottlesfrom a tap, over and over again. He would run as fastas he could from the tap to the window, and left abottle filling at the tap while he made the trip. Inthis way every man in the car got enough to drink,and this blue-eyed, shock-headed lad will ever live ingrateful memory.

The following night after midnight we reached Giessen, and were unloaded and marched through darkstreets to the prison-camp, which is on the outskirtsof the city. We were put into a dimly lighted hut, staleand foul-smelling, too, and when we put up the windows, some of our own Sergeants objected on accountof the cold, and shut them down. Well, at least wehad room if we had n't air, and we huddled togetherand slept, trying to forget what we used to believeabout the need of fresh air.

As soon as the morning came, I went outside andwatched a dull red, angry sky flushing toward sunrise. Red in the morning sky denotes wind, it is said,but we did n't need signs that morning to proclaim awindy day, for the wind already swept the courtyard,and whipped the green branches of the handsome treeswhich marked the driveway. My spirits rose at oncewhen I filled my lungs with air and looked up at thescudding clouds which were being dogged across thesky by the wind.

A few straggling prisoners came out to wash at thetap in the courtyard, and I went over to join them, forI was grimy, too, with the long and horrible ride. Withone hand I could make but little progress, and wasspreading the dirt rather than removing it, until afriendly Belgian, seeing my difficulty, took his cake ofsoap and his towel, and washed me well.

We were then given a ration of bread about two inchesthick, and a drink of something that tasted like waterboiled in a coffee-pot, and after this we were dividedinto ten groups. Those of us who knew each othertried hard to stay together, but we soon learned to becareful not to appear to be too anxious, for the guardsevidently had instructions to break up previous acquaintanceships.

The wounded were marched across the compoundto the "Revier," a dull, gray, solid-looking building,where again we were examined and graded. Thoseseriously wounded were sent to the lazaret, or hospitalproper. I, being one of the more serious cases, wasmarched farther on to the lazaret, and we were alltaken to a sort of waiting-room, and taken off in groupsto the general bathroom to have a bath, before gettinginto the hospital clothes.

With me was a young bugler of the Fifth RoyalHighlanders, Montreal, a little chap not more thanfifteen, whose pink cheeks and curly hair would havemade an appeal to any human being: he looked so smalland lonesome and far from home. A smart young military doctor jostled against the boy's shattered arm,eliciting from him a cry of pain, whereupon he beganto make fun of the little bugler, by marching aroundhim, making faces. It gave me a queer feeling to seea grown-up man indulging in the tactics of a spoiledchild, but I have heard many people express the opinion, in which I now heartily agree, that the Germansare a childish sort of people. They are stupidly boastful, inordinately fond of adulation and attention, andpeevish and sulky when they cannot have their ownway. I tried to imagine how a young German boy wouldhave been treated by one of our doctors, and laughed tomyself at the absurdity of the thought that they wouldmake faces at him!

The young bugler was examined before I was, andas he was marched out of the room, the doctor whohad made the faces grabbed at his kilt with an insultinggesture, at which the lad attempted to kick him. Thedoctor dodged the kick, and the Germans who were inthe room roared with laughter. I hated them morethat minute than I had up to that time.

The Belgian attendants who looked after the bathingof us were kind and polite. One of them could speaka little English, and he tried hard to get informationregarding his country from us.

"Is it well?" he asked us eagerly. "My country – is it well?"

We thought of the shell-scarred country, with itspiles of smouldering ashes, its pallid women with theirhaunted faces, the deathlike silence of the ruinedstreets. We thought of these things, but we did n'ttell him of them. We told him the war was going on ingreat shape: the Allies were advancing all along theline, and were going to be in Berlin by Christmas. Itwas worth the effort to see his little pinched facebrighten. He fairly danced at his work after that,and when I saw him afterwards, he eagerly asked – "My country – is it well?" I do not know why hethought I knew, or maybe he did n't think so. But,anyway, I did my best. I gave him a glowing accountof the Allied successes, and painted a gloomy future forthe Kaiser, and I again had my reward, in his glowingface.

Everything we had was taken from us except shoes,socks, cap, and handkerchief, and we did not seethem again: neither did we get another bath, althoughI was six weeks in the hospital.

The hospital clothes consisted of a pajama suit ofmuch-faded flannelette, but I was glad to get into it,and doubly glad to get rid of my shirt and tunic, whichwere stiff on one side with dried blood. From thelazaret, where I had my bath, I could see the gun platform with its machine guns, commanding every partof the Giessen Prison. The guard pointed it out to me,to quiet my nerves, I suppose, and to scare me outof any thought of insubordination. However, he neednot have worried – I was not thinking of escaping justthen or starting an insurrection either. I was quitecontent to lie down on the hard straw bed and pull thequilt over me and take a good long rest.

CHAPTER IV
THE LAZARET

THE lazaret in which I was put was called "M.G.K.,"which is to say Machine Gun Company, and it wasexactly like the other hospital huts. There were someempty beds, and the doctor seemed to have plenty oftime to attend to us. For a few days, before my appetite began to make itself felt, I enjoyed the rest andquiet, and slept most of the time. But at the end of aweek I began to get restless.

The Frenchman whose bed was next to mine fascinated me with his piercing black eyes, unnaturallybright and glittering. I knew the look in his eyes; Ihad seen it – after the battle – when the woundedwere coming in, and looked at us as they were carriedby on stretchers. Some had this look – some had n't.Those who had it never came back.

And sometimes before the fighting, when the boyswere writing home, the farewell letter that would notbe mailed unless – "something happened" – I 've seenthat look in their faces, and I knew... just as theydid... the letter would be mailed!

Emile, the Frenchman, had the look!

He was young, and had been strong and handsome,although his face was now thin and pinched andbloodless, like a slum child's; but he hung on to lifepitifully. He hated to die – I knew that by the wayhe fought for breath, and raged when he knew for surethat it was going from him.

In the middle of his raging, he would lean over hisbed and peer into my face, crying "L'Anglaise – l'Anglaise," with his black eyes snapping like daggerpoints. I often had to turn away and put my pillowover my eyes.

But one afternoon, in the middle of it, the greatsilence fell on him, and Emile's struggles were over.

Our days were all the same. Nobody came to seeus; we had no books. There was a newspaper whichwas brought to us every two weeks, printed in English,but published in German, with all the German finedisregard for the truth. It said it was "printed forAmericans in Europe." The name of it was "TheContinental Times," but I never heard it called anything but "The Continental Liar." Still, it was print,and we read it; I remember some of the sentences. Itspoke of an uneasy feeling in England "which thepresence of turbaned Hindoos and Canadian cowboyshas failed to dispel." Another one said, "The Turksare operating the Suez Canal in the interests of neutral shipping." "Fleet-footed Canadians" was an expression frequently used, and the insinuation wasthat the Canadians often owed their liberty to theirspeed.

But we managed to make good use of this paper.I got one of the attendants, Ivan, a good-natured, flat-footed Russian, to bring me a pair of scissors, andthe boy in the cot next to mine had a stub of pencil,and between us we made a deck of cards out of thewhite spaces of the paper, and then we played solitaire,time about, on our quilts.

I got my first parcel about the end of May, from aMrs. Andrews whose son I knew in Trail and who hadentertained me while I was in London. I had sent acard to her as soon as I was taken. The box was likea visit from Santa Claus. I remember the "DigestiveBiscuits," and how good they tasted after being fora month on the horrible diet of acorn coffee, blackbread, and the soup which no word that is fit for publication could describe.

I also received a card from my sister, Mrs. Meredith,of Edmonton, about this time. I was listed "Missing"on April 29th, and she sent a card addressed to mewith "Canadian Prisoner of War, Germany," on it, onthe chance that I was a prisoner. We were allowed towrite a card once a week and two letters a month;and we paid for these. My people in Canada heardfrom me on June 9th.

I cannot complain of the treatment I received inthe lazaret. The doctor took a professional interestin me, and one day brought in two other doctors, andproudly exhibited how well I could move my arm.However, I still think if he had massaged my upperarm, it would be of more use to me now than it is.

Chloroform was not used in this hospital; at leastI never saw any of it. One young Englishman, whohad a bullet in his thigh, cried out in pain when thesurgeon was probing for it. The German doctor sarcastically remarked, "Oh, I thought the English werebrave."

To which the young fellow, lifting his tortured face,proudly answered, "The English are brave – and merciful – and they use chloroform for painful operations,and do this for the German prisoners, too."

But there was no chloroform used for him, thoughthe operation was a horrible one.

There was another young English boy named Jellis,who came in after the fight of May 8th, who seemedto be in great pain the first few days. Then suddenlyhe became quiet, and we hoped his pain had lessened;but we soon found out he had lock-jaw, and in a fewdays he died.

From the pasteboard box in which my first parcelcame, I made a checker-board, and my next-door neighbor and I had many a game.

In about three weeks I was allowed to go out in theafternoons, and I walked all I could in the narrowspace, to try to get back all my strength, for one greathope sustained me – I would make a dash for libertythe first chance I got, and I knew that the better I felt, the better my chances would be. I still had my compass, and I guarded it carefully. Everything of thisnature was supposed to be taken from us at the lazaret,but I managed, through the carelessness of the guard,to retain the compass.

The little corral in which we were allowed to walkhad a barbed-wire fence around it – a good one, too,eight strands, and close together. One side of the corralwas a high wall, and in the enclosure on the other sideof the wall were the lung patients.

One afternoon I saw a young Canadian boy lookingwistfully through the gate, and I went over and spoketo him. He was the only one who could speak Englishamong the "lungers." The others were Russians,French, and Belgians. The boy was dying of loneliness as well as consumption. He came from Ontario,though I forget the name of the town.

"Do you think it will be over soon?" he asked meeagerly. "Gee, I'm sick of it – and wish I could gethome. Last night I dreamed about going home. Iwalked right in on them – dirt and all – with thistattered old tunic – and a dirty face. Say, it did n'tmatter – my mother just grabbed me – and it wasdinner-time – they were eating turkey – a great biggobbler, all brown – and steaming hot – and I satdown in my old place – it was ready for me – andjust began on a leg of turkey..."

A spasm of coughing seized him, and he held to thebars of the gate until it passed.

Then he went on: "Gee, it was great – it was all soclear. I can't believe that I am not going! I think thewar must be nearly over – "

Then the cough came again – that horrible, strangling cough – and I knew that it would be only in hisdreams that he would ever see his home! For to him,at least, the war was nearly over, and the day of peaceat hand.

Before I left the lazaret, the smart-Alec young German doctor who had made faces at the little bugler blewgaily in one day and breezed around our beds, makingpert remarks to all of us. I knew him the minute hecame in the door, and was ready for him when he passedmy bed.

He stopped and looked at me, and made some insulting remark about my beard, which was, I suppose,quite a sight, after a month of uninterrupted growth.Then he began to make faces at me.

I raised myself on my elbow, and regarded him withthe icy composure of an English butler. Scorn andcontempt were in my glance, as much as I could putin; for I realized that it was hard for me to look dignifiedand imposing, in a hospital pajama suit of dirt-coloredflannelette, with long wisps of amber-colored hair falling around my face, and a thick red beard long enoughnow to curl back like a drake's tail.

I knew I looked like a valentine, but my stony British stare did the trick in spite of all handicaps, and heturned abruptly and went out.

The first week of June, I was considered able to goback to the regular prison-camp. A German guardcame for me, and I stepped out in my pajamas to theouter room where our uniforms were kept. There weremany uniforms there – smelling of the disinfectants – with the owners' names on them, but mine was missing. The guard tried to make me take one which wasfar too short for me, but I refused. I knew I lookedbad enough, without having elbow sleeves and shortpants; and it began to look as if I should have to goto bed until some good-sized patient came in.

But my guard suddenly remembered something,and went into another hut, bringing back the uniformof "D. Smith, Vancouver." The name was written onthe band of the trousers. D. Smith had died the daybefore, from lung trouble. The uniform had been disinfected, and hung in wrinkles. My face had the hospital pallor, and, with my long hair and beard, I know Ilooked "snaggy" like a potato that has been forgottenin a dark corner of the cellar.

When we came out of the lazaret, the few peoplewe met on the road to the prison-camp broke intobroad grins; some even turned and looked after us.

CHAPTER V
THE PRISON-CAMP

THE guard took me to Camp 6, Barrack A, where I foundsome of the boys I knew. They were in good spirits,and had fared in the matter of food much the same asI had. We agreed exactly in our diagnosis of the soup.

I was shown my mattress and given two blankets;also a metal bowl, knife, and fork.

Outside the hut, on the shady side, I went and satdown with some of the boys who, like myself, were excused from labor. Dent, of Toronto, was one of theparty, and he was engaged in the occupation known as"reading his shirt" – and on account of the numberof shirts being limited to one for each man, while the"reading" was going on, he sat in a boxer's uniform,wrapped only in deep thought.

Now, it happened that I did not acquire any "cooties" while I was in the army, and of course in thelazaret we were kept clean, so this was my first closeacquaintanceship with them. My time of exemptionwas over, though, for by night I had them a-plenty.

I soon found out that insect powder was no good.I think it just made them sneeze, and annoyed them alittle. We washed our solitary shirts regularly, but aswe had only cold water, it did not kill the eggs, andwhen we hung the shirt out in the sun, the eggs cameout in full strength, young, hearty, and hungry. Itwas a new generation we had to deal with, and they hadall the objectionable qualities of their ancestors, and afew of their own.

Before long, the Canadian Red Cross parcels beganto come, and I got another shirt – a good one, too,only the sleeves were too long. I carefully put in atuck, for they came well over my hands. But I soonfound that these tucks became a regular rendezvous forthe "cooties," and I had to let them out. The RedCross parcels also contained towels, toothbrushes,socks, and soap, and all these were very useful.

After a few weeks, with the lice increasing every day,we raised such a row about them that the guards tookus to the fumigator. This was a building of threerooms, which stood by itself in the compound. In thefirst room we undressed and hung all our clothes, andour blankets too, on huge hooks which were placedon a sliding framework. This framework was thenpushed into the oven and the clothes were thoroughlybaked. We did not let our boots, belts, or braces go, asthe heat would spoil the leather. We then walked outinto the next room and had a shower bath, and afterthat went into the third room at the other side of theoven, and waited until the framework was pushedthrough to us, when we took our clothes from thehooks and dressed.

This was a sure cure for the "cooties," and for a fewdays, at least, we enjoyed perfect freedom from them.

Giessen Prison-Camp

Every week after this we had a bath, and it was compulsory, too.

As prison-camps go, Giessen is a good one. The placeis well drained; the water is excellent; the sanitary conditions are good, too; the sleeping accommodations areample, there being no upper berths such as exist in allthe other camps I have seen. It is the "Show-Camp,"to which visitors are brought, who then, not havinghad to eat the food, write newspaper articles tellinghow well Germany treats her prisoners. If these peoplecould see some of the other camps that I have seen, thearticles would have to be modified.

News of the trouble in Ireland sifted through to usin the prison-camp. The first I heard of it was a letter in the "Continental Times," by Roger Casem*nt'ssister, who had been in Germany and had visited someof the prison-camps, and was so pleased with the generous treatment Germany was according her prisoners.She was especially charmed with the soup!!! Andthe letter went on to tell of the Irish Brigade thatwas being formed in Germany to fight the tyrantEngland. Every Irish prisoner who would join was tobe given the privilege of fighting against England.Some British prisoners who came from Limburg, acamp about thirty miles from Giessen, told us moreabout it. Roger Casem*nt, himself, had gone there togather recruits, and several Irishmen had joined andwere given special privileges accordingly. However,there were many Irishmen who did not join, and whokept a list of the recruits – for future reference, whenthe war was over!

The Irishmen in our camp were approached, butthey remained loyal.

The routine of the camp was as follows: Reveillesounded at six. We got up and dressed and were givena bowl of coffee. Those who were wise saved their issueof bread from the night before, and ate it with thecoffee. There was a roll-call right after the coffee, whenevery one was given a chance to volunteer for work.At noon there was soup, and another roll-call. Weanswered the roll-call, either with the French word"Présent" or the German word "Hier," pronouncedthe same as our word. Then at five o'clock there wasan issue of black bread made mostly from potato flour.

I was given a light job of keeping the space betweenA Barrack and B Barrack clean, and I made a finepretense of being busy, for it let me out of "drill,"which I detested, for they gave the commands in German, and it went hard with us to have to salute theirofficers.

On Sundays there was a special roll-call, when everyone had to give a full account of himself. The prisonersthen had the privilege of asking for any work theywanted, and if the Germans could supply it, it wasgiven.

None of us were keen on working; not but what wewould much rather work than be idle, but for the uncomfortable thought that we were helping the enemy.There were iron-works near by, where Todd, Whittaker,Dent, little Joe, and some others were working, andit happened that one day Todd and one of the others,when going to have teeth pulled at the dentist's, sawshells being shipped away, and upon inquiry found thesteel came from the iron mines where they were working.When this became known, the boys refused to work!Every sort of bullying was tried on them for two daysat the mines, but they still refused. They were thensent back to Giessen and sentenced to eighteen months'punishment at Butzbach – all but Dent, who managedsome way to fool the doctor pretending he was sick!

That they fared badly there, I found out afterwards,though I never saw any of them.

Some of the boys from our hut worked on the railroad, and some went to work in the chemical works atGriesheim, which have since been destroyed by bombsdropped by British airmen.

John Keith, who was working on the railroad, – oneof the best-natured and inoffensive boys in our hut, – came in one night with his face badly swollen andbruised. He had laughed, it seemed, at somethingwhich struck him as being funny, and the guard hadbeaten him over the head with the butt of his rifle.One of our guards, a fine old, brown-eyed man called"Sank," told the guard who had done this what hethought of him. "Sank" was the "other" kind ofGerman, and did all he could to make our lives pleasant.I knew that "Sank" was calling down the guard, by hisexpression and his gestures, and his frequent use ofthe word "blödsinnig."

Another time one of the fellows from our hut, who wasa member of a working party, was shot through thelegs by the guard, who claimed he was trying to escape,and after that there were no more working partiesallowed for a while.

Each company had its own interpreter, Russian,French, or English. Our interpreter was a man namedScott from British Columbia, an Englishman who hadreceived part of his education at Heidelberg. Fromhim I learned a good deal about the country throughwhich I hoped to travel. Heidelberg is situated betweenGiessen and the Swiss boundary, and so was of specialinterest to me. I made a good-sized map, and markedin all the information I could dig out of Scott.

The matter of escaping was in my mind all the time,but I was careful to whom I spoke, for some fellows'plans had been frustrated by their unwise confidences.

The possession of a compass is an indication that thesubject of "escaping" has been thought of, and thequestion, "Have you a compass?" is the prison-campway of saying, "What do you think of making a try?"

One day, a fellow called Bromley who came fromToronto, and who was captured at the same time thatI was, asked me if I had a compass. He was a fine bigfellow, with a strong, attractive face, and I liked him,

Tom Bromley
In Red Cross overcoat with prison number and marked sleeve

from the first. He was a fair-minded, reasonable chap,and we soon became friends. We began to lay plans,and when we could get together, talked over the prospects, keeping a sharp lookout for eavesdroppers.

There were difficulties!

The camp was surrounded by a high board fence,and above the boards, barbed wire was tightly drawn,to make it uncomfortable for reaching hands. Inside ofthis was an ordinary barbed-wire fence through whichwe were not allowed to go, with a few feet of "No Man'sLand" in between.

There were sentry-boxes ever so often, so high thatthe sentry could easily look over the camp. Each company was divided from the others by two barbed-wirefences, and besides this there were the sentries whowalked up and down, armed, of course.

There were also the guns commanding every bit ofthe camp, and occasionally, to drive from us all thoughtof insurrection, the Regular Infantry marched throughwith fixed bayonets. At these times we were alwayslined up so we should not miss the gentle little lesson!

One day, a Zeppelin passed over the camp, and weall hurried out to look at it. It was the first one I hadseen, and as it rode majestically over us, I could n'thelp but think of the terrible use that had been madeof man's mastery of the air. We wondered if it carried bombs. Many a wish for its destruction was expressed – and unexpressed. Before it got out of sight,it began to show signs of distress, as if the wisheswere taking effect, and after considerable wheeling andturning it came back.

Ropes were lowered and the men came down. Itwas secured to the ground, and floated serenely besidethe wood adjoining the camp.... The wishes werecontinued....

During the afternoon, a sudden storm swept acrossthe camp – rain and wind with such violence that wewere all driven indoors....

When we came out after a few minutes – probablyhalf an hour – the Zeppelin had disappeared. We foundout afterwards that it had broken away from its moorings, and, dashing against the high trees, had beensmashed to kindling wood; and this news cheered uswonderfully!

A visitor came to the camp one day, and, accompanied by three or four officers, made the rounds. Hespoke to a group of us who were outside of the hut,asking us how many Canadians there were in Giessen.He said he thought there were about nine hundredCanadians in Germany altogether. He had no opportunity for private conversation with us, for the Germanofficers did not leave him for a second; and although hemade it clear that he would like to speak to us alonethis privilege was not granted. Later we found out itwas Ambassador James W. Gerard.

It soon became evident that there were spies in thecamp. Of course, we might have known that no Germaninstitution could get along without spies. Spies arethe bulwark of the German nation; so in the Giessencamp there were German spies of all nationalities, including Canadian.

But we soon saw, too, that the spies were not workingovertime on their job; they just brought in a little gossiponce in a while – just enough to save their faces andsecure a soft snap for themselves.

One of these, a Frenchman named George Clerque,a Sergeant Major in the French Army, was convincedthat he could do better work if he had a suit of civilianclothes; and as he had the confidence of the prisonauthorities, the suit was given him. He wore it aroundfor a few days, wormed a little harmless confidence outof some of his countrymen, and then one day quietlywalked out of the front gate – and was gone!

Being in civilian dress, it seemed quite likely that hewould reach his destination, and as days went on, andthere was no word of him, we began to hope that hehad arrived in France.

The following notice was put up regarding his escape:

Although the notice said he had been captured weheld to the hope that he had not, for we knew theGerman way of using the truth only when it suits betterthan anything they can frame themselves. They haveno prejudice against the truth. It stands entirely onits own merits. If it suits them, they will use it, butthe truth must not expect any favors.

The German guards told us quite often that no oneever got out of Germany alive, and we were anxious toconvince them that they were wrong. One day whenthe mail came in, a friend of George Clerque told us hehad written from France, and there was great, but, ofnecessity, quiet rejoicing.

That night Bromley and I decided that we wouldvolunteer for farm service, if we could get taken toRossbach, where some of the other boys had been working, for Rossbach was eighteen miles south of Giessen – on the way to Switzerland. We began to save foodfrom our parcels, and figure out distances on the mapwhich I had made.

The day came when we were going to volunteer – Sunday at roll-call. Of course, we did not wish to appear eager, and were careful not to be seen togethertoo much. Suddenly we were called to attention, anda stalwart German soldier marched solemnly into thecamp. Behind him came two more, with somebodybetween them, and another soldier brought up therear. The soldiers carried their rifles and full equipment, and marched by in front of the huts.

We pressed forward, full of curiosity, and therebeheld the tiredest, dustiest, most woe-begone figureof a man, whose clothes were in rags, and whose bootswere so full of holes they seemed ready to drop offhim. He was handcuffed and walked wearily, withdowncast eyes –

It was George Clerque!

German Prison Stamp

CHAPTER VI
ROSSBACH

IT was September 25th that we left the prison-campand came to Rossbach – eighteen miles south on therailway. The six of us, with the German guard, had acompartment to ourselves, and as there was a map onthe wall which showed the country south of Rossbach,over which we hoped to travel, I studied it as hard asI could without attracting the attention of the guard,and afterwards entered on my map the information Ihad gained.

It was rather a pretty country we travelled through,with small farms and fairly comfortable-looking buildings. The new houses are built of frame or brick, andare just like our own, but the presence of the old stonebuildings, gray and dilapidated, and old enough tobelong to the time of the Crusaders, kept us remindedthat we were far from home.

However, we were in great humor that morning.Before us was a Great Adventure; there were dangersand difficulties in the way, but at the end of the roadwas Liberty! And that made us forget how rough thegoing was likely to be. Besides, at the present timewe were travelling south – toward Switzerland. Wewere on our way.

At Wetzlar, one of the stations near Giessen, a kind-faced old German came to the window and talked to usin splendid English.

"I would like to give you something, boys," he said,"but" – he shrugged his shoulders – "you know – I dare n't."

The guard pretended not to hear a word, and at thatmoment was waving his hand to a group of girls – just the regular station-goers, who meet the trains inCanada. This was, I think, the only place I saw them,for the women of Germany, young and old, are notencouraged to be idle or frivolous."I just wish I could give you something," the oldman repeated, feeling in his pocket as if looking fora cigar.

Then Clarke, one of our boys, leaned out of the window and said, "I'll tell you what we would like best ofall, old man – if you happen to have half a dozen ofthem on you – we'll take tickets to Canada – sixwill do – if you happen to have them right with you!And we're ready to start right now, too!"

The German laughed and said, "You'd better tryto forget about Canada, boys."

The guards who brought us to Rossbach went straightback to Giessen, after handing us over to the guardsthere, and getting, no doubt, an official receipt for us,properly stamped and signed.

Rossbach has a new town and an old, and, the stationbeing in the new town, we were led along the road tothe old town, where the farming people live. It is anold village, with the houses, pig-pens, and cow-stablesall together, and built so close that it would be quitepossible to look out of the parlor window and see howthe pigs are enjoying their evening meal or whether thecow has enough bedding.

There have been no improvements there for a hundred years, except that they have electric lightingeverywhere, even in the pig-pens. There were no lightsin the streets, though, I noticed, and I saw afterwardsthat a street light would be a foolish extravagance, forthe people go to bed at dark. They have the real ideaof daylight-saving, and do not let any of it escapethem.

The guards took us around to the houses, and wecreated considerable interest, for strangers are a sensation at Rossbach; and, besides, prisoners are cheaplaborers, and the thrifty German farmer does not liketo miss a bargain.

The little fellows were the first choice, for they lookedeasier to manage than those of us who were bigger.Clarke was taken by a woman whose husband was atthe front, and who had five of as dirty children as Iever saw at one time. We asked one little boy hisage, which he said was "fünf," but we thought he mustbe older – no child could get as dirty as that in fiveyears!

I was left until almost the last, and when a pleasant-looking old gentleman appeared upon the scene, Idecided I would take a hand in the choosing, so I said,"I 'll go with you."

I was afraid there might be another large family,all with colds in their heads, like the five which Clarkehad drawn, waiting for me, so that prompted me tochoose this benevolent-looking old grandfather.

The old man took me home with him to one of thebest houses in the village, although there was not muchdifference between them. His house was made ofplaster which had been whitewashed, and had in it agood-sized kitchen, where the family really lived, andan inner room which contained a large picture of theRoyal Family, all in uniform, and very gorgeous uniforms, too. Even the young daughter had a uniformwhich looked warlike enough for a Lieutenant-Colonel's. There was also a desk in this room, where thefather of the family – for the old man who broughtme in was the grandfather – conducted his business.He was some sort of a clerk, probably the reeve of themunicipality, and did not work on the farm at all.There was a fine home-made carpet on the floor, butthe room was bare and cheerless, with low ceiling, andinclined to be dark.

When we entered the kitchen, the family greeted mecordially, and I sat down to dinner with them. Therewere three girls and one brother, who was a soldierand home on leave.

Bromley went to work for a farmer on the other sideof the village, but I saw him each night, for we all wentback to a large three-storied building, which may oncehave been a boarding-house, to sleep each night, theguard escorting us solemnly both to and from workeach day. This was a very good arrangement for us,too, for we had to be through work and have our supperover by eight o'clock each night.

After our prison diet, the meals we had here wereample and almost epicurean. We had soup – thereal thing – made from meat, with plenty of vegetables; coffee with milk, but no sugar; cheese, homemade but very good; meat, both beef and pork; eggsin abundance; but never any pastry; and lots of potatoes, boiled in their skins, and fried.

There were plenty of fruit-trees, too, in Rossbach,growing along the road, and, strange to say, unmolestedby the youngsters. The trees appear to belong to themunicipality, and the crop is sold by auction eachyear to the highest bidder. They are quite ornamental,too, standing in a straight row on each side of theroad.

The farmers who lived in this village followed theoldest methods of farming I had ever seen, though Isaw still more primitive methods in Hanover. Vegetables, particularly potatoes and mangels, were grownin abundance, and I saw small fields of stubble, thoughwhat the grain was I do not know. I saw a threshing-machine drawn by a tractor going along the road, andone of the girls told me it was made in England. Thewoman who had the farm next to the one I was on wasa widow, her husband having been killed in the war,and she had no horses at all, and cultivated her tinyacres with a team of cows. It seems particularlyconsistent with German character to make cows work!They hate to see anything idle, and particularly ofthe female sex.

Each morning we rode out to the field, for the farmsare scattered over a wide area, and three-acre and five-acre fields are the average size. The field where wewent to work digging potatoes was about a mile distant from the house, and when I say we rode, I meanthe brother and I – the girls walked. I remonstratedat this arrangement, but the girls themselves seemedto be surprised that it should be questioned, and thesurly young brother growled something at me whichI knew was a reflection on my intelligence.

When we got into the field and began to dig potatoes,good, clear-skinned yellow ones, Lena Schmidt, oneof the girls, who was a friend of the family, thoughnot a relation, I think, began to ask me questions aboutCanada (they put the accent on the third syllable).Lena had been to Sweden, so she told me proudly, andhad picked up quite a few English words. She was agood-looking German girl, with a great head of yellowhair, done in braids around her head. The girls wereall fairly good-looking though much tanned from outdoor work. Lena had heard women worked in thehouse, and not outside, in Canada – was it true?

I assured her it was true.

"But," said Lena, "what do they do in house – when bread is made and dish-wash?"

I told her our women read books and played thepiano and made themselves pretty clothes and wentvisiting and had parties, and sometimes played cards.

Of course it was not all told as easily as this sounds.

I could see that Lena was deeply impressed, and sowere the two others when she passed it on. Then shebegan to question me again.

"Are there many women in Canada – women inevery house – like here?"

I told her there were not nearly so many women inCanada as here; indeed, there were not enough to goaround, and there were lots of men who could not getmarried for that reason.

When Lena passed that on, excitement reigned, andGerman questions were hurled at me! I think the threegirls were ready to leave home! I gently reminded themof the war and the complications it had caused in thematter of travelling. They threw out their hands witha gesture of despair – there could be no Canada forthem. "Fertig," they said – which is the word theyuse to mean "no chance," "no use to try further."

Lena, however, having travelled as far as Sweden,and knowing, therefore, something of the world's ways,was not altogether without hope.

"The war – will be some day done!" she said – and we let it go at that.

Lena began to teach me German, and used currentevents as the basis of instruction. Before the end ofthe first day I was handling sentences like this – "Herr Schmidt expects to have his young child christened in the church next Sunday at 2 o'clock, Godwilling."

Helene Romisch, the daughter of the house, had amania for knowing every one's age, and put the question to me in the first ten minutes of our acquaintance.She had evidently remembered every answer she hadever received to her questions, for she told me the ageof every one who passed by on the road, and when therewas no one passing she gave me a list of the familyconnections of those who had gone, or those who werelikely to go, with full details as to birthdays.

I think it was Eliza, the other girl, who could speakno English and had to use Lena as interpreter, whofirst broached the tender subject of matrimony.

Was I married?

I said, "No."

Then, after a few minutes' conference –

Had I a girl?

"No – I had n't," I told them.

Then came a long and heated discussion, and Lenawas hard put to it, with her scanty store of Englishwords, and my recently acquired German, to framesuch a delicate question. I thought I knew what itwas going to be – but I did not raise a hand to help.

Why hadn't I a girl? Did I not like girls? orwhat?

I said I did like girls; that was not the reason. Thenall three talked at once, and I knew a further explanation was going to be demanded if Lena's English couldframe it. This is the form in which the question came:

"You have no girl, but you say you like girls; is n'tit all right to have a girl?"

Then I told them it was quite a proper thing tohave a girl; I had no objections at all; in fact, I mightsome day have a girl myself.

Then Lena opened her heart, seeing that I was nota woman-hater, and told me she had a beau in Sweden;but I gathered from her manner of telling it that hisintentions were somewhat vague yet. Eliza had alreadyadmitted that she had a "fellow," and had shown mehis picture. Helene made a bluff at having one, too,though she did not seem able to give names or dates.Then Lena, being the spokeswoman, told me she couldget a girl for me, and that the young lady was goingto come out to the potato digging. "She see you carrywater – she like you," declared Lena. This was interesting, too, and I remembered that when I was carrying water from the town pump the first day I wasthere, I had seen a black-eyed young lady of aboutsixteen standing in the road, and when I passed shehad bade me "Good-day" in splendid English.

On Saturday, Fanny Hummel, for that was theblack-eyed one's name, did come out. The three girlshad a bad attack of giggles all the time Fanny andI were talking, for Fanny could speak a little English,having studied a year at Friedberg. She had a brotherin the army who was an officer, and she told me he couldspeak English "perfect." As far as her English wouldgo, she told me about Friedberg and her studies there,but when I tried to find out what she thought about thewar, I found that Fanny was a properly trained Germangirl, and did n't think in matters of this kind.

When the day's work was over, Fanny and I walkedback to town with the three girls following us in astate of partial collapse from giggles. That night, Lenawanted to know how things stood. Was Fanny mygirl? I was sorry to break up such a pleasant littleromance, but was compelled to state with brutal frankness that Fanny was not my girl!

I do not know how Fanny received this report, whichI presumed would be given to her the next day, forthe next day was the one we had selected for ourdeparture.

CHAPTER VII
THE ESCAPE

SUNDAY, October 3d, was the day we had chosen asour "going-away" day. We did no work on Sundays,and so had a full day's rest. Besides, we had a chancefor a bath on Sunday, and knew we needed every advantage we could get, for it was a long way to Switzerland.

The day had been sunny and bright, but towardevening big, heavy clouds rolled up from the southwest,and the darkness came on early. This. suited our purpose, and it was hard for Bromley and me to keep ouraccustomed air of unconcern.

By a fortunate arrangement, we were occupyinga room downstairs in the old boarding-house, whichmade our escape less difficult. The upstairs sleeping-place would hold only three more when the six of usarrived from Giessen the week previous, and that leftthree of us for a downstairs room. For this, Bromleyand I, and a young Englishman called Bherral werechosen.

The walls of the house were of plaster, and thewindows had a double barring of barbed wire, stapledin; but plaster does not make a very secure bedding forstaples, and we figured it would not be hard to prythem out.

Two Pages from Private Simmons's Diary

There was a light outside which burned all nightat the corner of the house, and by it the windows werebrightly illumined. This made our exit rather difficult.The doors were all locked, and there were about adozen guards who slept in another room adjoiningours. Some of them slept, we knew, and we hopedthey all did.

None of the prisoners at this place had ever attempted to escape, and so the guard had become lessvigilant. I suppose they figured it out that if any ofus were determined to go, we would make the startfrom the field where we were working, and where therewere no guards at all.

But they made a fine bluff at being awake all night,for we heard them walking up and down in the earlyevening. However, we reasoned that they were notany keener on sitting up than any of the rest of uswould be if we didn't have to; and it turned out thatour faith in them was justified.

Although we did not have to work on Sunday, thosewho had to work in the mines had no seventh day ofrest, and the night-shift went out each night aboutten-thirty when the day-shift men came in. We haddecided on eleven-thirty as the hour for our departure,giving the guard one hour in which to settle down afterthis disturbance.

We were lying on our mattresses, apparently wrappedin a heavy slumber, but in reality eagerly listening toevery sound.... We heard the night-workers goingout, and the day-men coming in and going heavilyto rest.... A guard seemed restless for a while andtramped up and down the creaking floor... but atlast the only sound to be heard was the deep breathing of tired men.

I heard Bromley gently reaching for his clothes, andI did not lose any time in getting into mine. Bherraland a little Frenchman, who were in our room, werewide awake and full of fear. They had tried to dissuadeus.

But the guards, all unsuspecting, slept on.

They slept the sweet sleep of childhood while wepushed out the strands of barbed wire which protectedthe window; they slept while Bromley slipped cautiouslyto the ground, and while I handed him down the overcoats, boots, and parcels of food (which we had been saving for a month); they slept while I slid through the window and dropped to the ground, too.

Just then the wind caught the window, which wason a hinge, and slammed it noisily against the wall.

We grabbed our belongings, and ran!

CHAPTER VIII
OFF FOR SWITZERLAND!

WE ran as if the whole German Army were in pursuit.Our feet did not seem to touch the ground. I believeif we could have held that pace we should have beenin Switzerland in the morning!

Reaching a little hollow, we slackened our pace andlistened. There was not a sound from behind. Eitherthere was no more wind, or the boys had closed thewindow from within. We figured that they would dothis, and open it before morning so they could claimthey had not heard us go. Then we put on our boots.

The night was at its blackest, and a drizzling rainbegan to fall. This was in our favor, for nobody waslikely to be about on such a night. When we saw wewere not pursued, we took time to arrange our packs.I carried my compass, which I had been able to secreteduring numerous searchings, and my map, a pair ofsocks, pipe, tobacco, matches in a tin box, an emptybeer-bottle, and several things to eat, saved fromour parcels, – chocolate, tinned meat, biscuits, cheese,and bread. Bromley had a pack similar to mine, andwhen we got them ready and our overcoats on, westarted off in a southeasterly direction, guided by thelight from the place we had left. We walked as fastas we could in the darkness, which was heavy enoughto hide in, but made progress very difficult, for we couldnot see each other or one step before us. We trippedover a railway track once, and if there had been anyone near they might have heard us.

But in spite of the rain, which fell with steady insistence and began to weigh down our overcoats; in spiteof the blackness which made the travelling unbelievablydifficult; in spite of the fact that we were in a landof enemies, playing a desperate game against terribleodds, we were happier than either of us had been sincebeing taken to Germany, for a weight had been rolledoff our souls. We were on our way to freedom!

When we found it necessary to consult the compass,I took off my overcoat and lay flat on the ground withmy compass and matches ready. Bromley put mycoat over my head and shoulders, tucking it well inaround me, so no light could shine through. ThenI struck a match, and in its light made the observation,always taking into consideration the fact that in thatpart of Europe the compass points sixteen or seventeendegrees west of due north.

We were careful to avoid the main roads and to seekout the seldom-travelled, ones, for we knew that ouronly chance was in not being seen at all, as we woreour own Canadian uniforms, which would brand us atonce for what we were. Added to that, we could notform a single German sentence if we were challenged.Of course, I could say "that Herr Schmidt expectedto have his young child baptized in the church nextSunday, God willing," but I felt that that was notaltogether the proper reply to make to the command – "Halt! Wer da?"

The villages were very thick here, and our chiefdifficulty was to keep out of them. Once we venturedrather close to the road which ran near the railroad,and heard a number of people talking. They weretravellers who had alighted from the train which hadraced past us in the darkness a few minutes before.The station is often quite a distance from the village,and these were the passengers walking back to theirhomes – the village which we had been avoiding.

We dropped to the ground, and the people went by,one old man singing. I knew he was old, for his voicewas cracked and thin, but of great sweetness, and hesang an aria from a musical comedy which was popularthen, called "The Joy of Life." I had heard a doctorin the lazaret singing it.

When the sound had grown fainter in the distance,we came out of our hiding-place and went on.

"It seems hard," said Bromley, "to be fighting withpeople who can sing like that. I can't work up anyill-will to that good old soul, going home singing – and I don't believe he has any ill-will to us. I could n'tfight the Germans if they were all like this old chap andSank!"

"You would n't need to," I said. "There would nothave been any fighting."

And then we strained our ears to listen to the song,not a word of which we understood, though to us themusic was full of good-will and joy.

"We've got to keep farther out," I said at last."We are sure to run into some one and then it will beall up with us!"

We found, at last, after much stumbling over roughground, a road quite grass-grown and apparentlyabandoned. We followed it for about a mile, makinggood progress, until we came to a stream over whichthere was a bridge. We hesitated a minute beforegoing over, but the place was as silent as a cemetery,and seemed perfectly safe. So we cautiously went over,keeping a sharp outlook all the time. When we wereover the bridge, we found ourselves in the one streetof another village.

We stopped for a minute and listened. There wasnot a sound. We then went forward. Most of thestreets of the villages are paved with cobblestones, butthese were not, and our boots made no sound on thedirt road. Not even a dog barked, and just as we wereat the farther end of it, the village clock rang the hourof three!

"That's all right for once," I said, "but it's risky;I don't think we'd better try it again. Some barkingdog is sure to awake."

Soon after that the east grew red with morning, andwe struck straight into the woods to find shelter. Wesoon found ourselves in high rushes growing out ofswampy ground, and as we plunged along, we came toa high woven-wire fence, which we supposed markedthe bounds of a game preserve.

We quickened our pace, although the going was bad,for the light was growing and we knew these German peasants are uncomfortably early in their habits.We came on a garden, carefully fenced with rails, andhelped ourselves to a few carrots and turnips to saveour supply of food, and, finding near there a fairly thickwood, decided to camp for the day.

That was Monday, October 4th, and was a miserable day with sudden bursts of sunshine that made ourhearts light with the hope of getting both warm anddry; but the sunshine no sooner came than it was gone,and then a shower of rain would beat down on us.

However, we managed to make our feet comfortablewith the extra pair of socks, and we ate some carrots,bread, and cheese. But it was so cold, we could notsleep.

We were glad when it grew dark enough for us tostart out again. We found we were in a well-cultivateddistrict; almost every acre was in garden, potatoes andsugar beets, whose stalks rustled and crackled as wewent through them, and this made our going slowerthan it otherwise would have been. There were a fewlate apples on the trees, but they were poor, woodyones. I do not know whether they were a sample of thecrop or just the culls that were not considered worthpicking. But we were glad of them, and filled ourpockets.

The streams which we came to gave us considerabletrouble. We were not exactly dry, but then we couldhave been wetter, and so we hunted for bridges, therebylosing much time and taking grave chances of beingcaught. We were new in the matter of escaping, andhad a lot to learn. Now we know we should have wadedthrough without losing a minute.

That morning, just before stopping-time, in crossinga railway Bromley tripped over a signal wire, whichrang like a burglar alarm and seemed to set a dozenbells ringing. We quickened our pace, and when therailway man came rushing out of his house and lookedwildly up and down the track, we were so far away hecould not see us!

We kept well to the east, for we knew the locationof Frankfort and that we must avoid it. Bromley haddifficulty in keeping his direction, and I began to suspect that he thought I was lost, too. So I told him thedirection the road ran, and then made an observationwith the compass to convince him, but many a timein the long, black middle of the night, I thought Idetected a disposition to doubt in his remarks.

When the North Star shone down on us, we couldfind our way without trouble, but when the night wasclouded, as most of the nights were, it became a difficult matter.

The third night there was a faintly light patch in thesky, by which I guided my course and did not usemy compass at all. Bromley had evidently not noticedthis, and declared that no human being could keep hisdirection on as black a night as this. The faint lightin the sky continued to hold, and I guided our courseby it until we came to a road. Here Bromley insinuatedthat I had better use my compass (I was thinking thesame thing, too). I assured him it was not necessary,for I knew the road was running east and west. It was,I knew, if the light patch in the sky had not shifted.

When we made the observation with the compass,we found it was so; and Bromley asked me, wonderingly, how I could do it. I told him it was a sort ofsixth sense that some people had. After that he trustedme implicitly. This saved him a lot of anxiety, andalso made it easier for me.

Soon after this we got into a miry part of the country,with the woods so thick and the going so bad that weknew we could not make any progress. It was a veritable dismal swamp, where travellers could be lost forever.

As we stumbled along in this swampy place, we cameto a narrow-gauge railway, which we gladly followeduntil we saw we were coming to a city. This we afterwards knew to be the city of Hanau. Just in the graydawn, we left the track and took refuge in a thickbush, where we spent the day. This was October 5th.

Our first work was to change our socks, spreadingthe ones we took off on a tree to dry. We then carefullyrubbed our feet until they were dry, and put on thedry socks. We soon learned that we must leave ourboots off for a while each day, to keep our feet in goodcondition. The pressure of the boots, especially withthe dampness, made the feet tender and disposed toskin.

This day was a showery one, too, but the sun shonefor about an hour in the morning, and when Bromleylay down to sleep, I decided to go out and see whatsort of country we were in. I wanted to check up mymap, too, for if it were correct, we should be near theMain River.

I made my way cautiously to the edge of the wood,marking the way by breaking the top of a twig hereand there, to guide me safely back to Bromley. Ordinary travellers can call to each other, but the waysof escaping prisoners must all be ways of quietness,although their paths are not all paths of peace!

I saw a beautiful little lodge, vine-covered, with arustic fence around it, with blue smoke curling outof its red-brick chimney, and I just knew they werehaving bacon and eggs and coffee for breakfast.

Two graceful deer, with gentle eyes, looked out atme from a tangle of willows, and then I knew the brownlodge was the game-keeper's house. A hay meadow,green with after-grass, stretched ahead of me, but therewas no sign of the Main River.

I had kept well under cover, I thought, but beforelong I had the uncomfortable feeling that some onewas following me; the crackling of the bushes, whichceased when I stopped, and began again when I wenton, seemed very suspicious. I abruptly changed mycourse, making a wide circle, and was able to eludemy pursuer and find my way back to Bromley.

I had an uneasy feeling that I had been too careless,and that some one had seen me. However, I lay downto sleep, for I was dead tired, and we had a splendidhiding-place in the thick bush.

I do not know how long I slept; it seemed only afew minutes when a bugle-call rang out. We wakenedwith a start, for it went through us like a knife.

We heard loud commands, and knew there was acompany of soldiers somewhere near, and I gatheredfrom my recent observations that these sounds camefrom the hay meadow in front of us.

We did not connect the demonstration with ourpresence until the soldiers began shouting and chargingthe wood where we lay. Then we knew we were whatthe society papers call the "raison d'être" for all thiscelebration.

We lay close to the earth and hardly dared to breathe.The soldiers ran shouting and firing (probably blankcartridges) in every direction. Through the brush Isaw their feet as they passed – not ten feet from wherewe lay.

The noise they made was deafening; evidently theythought if they beat the bushes sufficiently hard, theycould scare us out like rabbits, and I knew they werewatching the paths and thin places in the woods. Butwe lay tight, knowing it was our only safety.

Soon the noise grew fainter, and they passed on totry the woods we had just come through, and we, wornwith fatigue, fell asleep.

In the afternoon they gave our woods another combing. They seemed pretty sure we were somewherenear! But they did not come quite so close to us asthey had in the morning.

However, we had heard enough to convince us thatthis was a poor place to linger, and when it got realdark, we pushed on south across the hay meadow.This meadow was full of ditches which were a littletoo wide to jump and were too skwudgy in the bottomto make wading pleasant. They delayed us and tiredus a great deal, for it was a tough climb getting out ofthem.

At last we decided to take the road, for the nightwas dark enough to hide us, and by going slowly wethought we could avoid running into any one.

We had not gone very far when we heard the sound ofwagons, and when we stopped to listen we could hearmany voices, and knew our road was bringing us to amuch-used thoroughfare. In the corner formed by theintersecting roads there was a thick bush of probablyten acres, and I could not resist the desire to scout andsee what sort of country we were in. So I left Bromley,carefully marking where he was by all the ways I could,and then went out to the edge of the bush. I went alongthe edge of the road, keeping well into the bush. It wastoo dark to see much, but I could make out that therewas a well-wooded country ahead of us. I came backto the exact place where I had left Bromley, or at leastwhere I thought I had left him, but not a trace of himcould I see. Of course, I dared not call, so I gave a softwhistle, as near like a bird-call as I could. Bromleyreached out his hand and touched me! He was rightbeside me. That gave me the comfort of knowing howwell the darkness and bushes hide one if he is perfectlystill.

We thought this road led to the river Main, and decided to keep close to it so we could get across on thebridge. We followed along the road until it branchedinto two roads. We took the right branch first, but asit turned more and more sharply to the west, we concluded it was the road to Frankfort, and retraced oursteps to the place where we had picked it up, and wentthe other way. There was heavy forest along the road,and it seemed to us to run southeast by east. Wewanted to go south, so we turned off this road througha chance hay meadow, and then through the forest,until we found a sort of road which ran south.

All German forests have roads, more or less distinct,traversing them according to some definite plan, butthey do not necessarily follow the cardinal points of thecompass. We followed the south road, which was littleused, until we came to a stream. There was no way ofgetting across it, so we followed its bank until it flowedinto the Kinzig River. We knew by our map this mustbe the Kinzig River.

We tried to find a path along the Kinzig, but theredid not seem to be any, and the underbrush was impenetrable. We decided to wait until morning came,took some chocolate and biscuits and filled our beer-bottle in the stream. Then we found a comfortablebank, and put some brush under our heads and slept.But not very soundly, for we did not want to miss thatmisty light which comes about an hour before sunrise.

We wakened just as the light began to show in theeast, and, stiff and cold, with our teeth chattering, westarted on our way to find some means of gettingacross the Kinzig. Bridge, boat, or raft, anythingwould do us, provided only it came soon, before thedaylight.

In a few minutes we came to a foot-bridge, with awell-beaten path running down to it and up the oppositebank. So we made a dash across it. We knew enough,though, to get off the path at once, for we could see it wasa well-travelled one. We struck into the wood, keepingour southerly direction, but soon came out on anotherroad, and as the light was too strong now for us, wewent back into the woods and kept hidden.

That was Wednesday, October 6th. Again it rained;not in showers this time with redeeming shots of sunshine, but a dull, steady, miserable rain that wet usclear through to the skin. Still, we ate our cheese andbread, and opened a tin of sardines, and managed toput the day in. We were near a town, and could hearpeople driving by all day long. We were kept so on thealert that we had no time to feel uncomfortable. However, we were very glad when the darkness came andwe could stretch our legs and get warm again.

We had great difficulty to clear the town and therailway yards ahead of us, but at last found a road leading south, and followed it through the forest. In oneplace, as I was going along ahead, intent on keeping theroad, which seemed to be heaped up in the middle, Iheard a cry behind me, and almost jumped across theroad in my excitement. Instinctively I began to run,but a second cry arrested me, for it was Bromley'svoice. I ran back and found he had fallen into a holein the road. The heaped-up appearance I had noticedwas the dirt thrown out of a six-foot drain, in whichthey were laying water-pipes, and into this Bromley hadfallen. He was not hurt at all, but jarred a little by thefall.

We knew we had passed the Hesse boundary, andwere now in Bavaria.

Our one beer-bottle did not hold nearly enoughwater, and in our long walk through the forest on thisnight we suffered from thirst. We had thought weshould be able to find cows to milk, but on account ofthe people living in villages, there was but little chanceof this.

When we got out of the forest we found ourselves inan open country. We came to a good-sized stream, andcrossed the bridge and to our horror found ourselvesin a town of considerable size. The streets were dark,but from one or two windows lights shone. We pushedrapidly on, and thought we were nearly through, whena little upstart of a fox-terrier came barking out at usfrom a doorway. We stepped into a space between twohouses, and just then a cat crossed the street and hetransferred his attentions to her.

"I always did like cats," Bromley whispered.

We came out again and went on, breathing out ourcondemnation of all German dogs. And we were notdone with them yet! For before we got out another curflew at us and raised enough noise to alarm the town.I believe the only thing that saved us was this dog'sbad character. Nobody believed he had anything – he had fooled them so often – and so, although hepursued us until we slipped down an alley and gotinto a thick grove, there was not even a blind raised.He ran back, yelping out his disappointment, and thebitterest part of it would be that no one would everbelieve him – but that is part of the liar's punishment.

We got out of the town as soon as we could, andpushed on with all haste; we were afraid that news ofour escape had been published, and that these peoplemight be on the lookout for us. The telephone polesalong the roads we were travelling kept us remindedof the danger we were in.

Loaded apple-trees growing beside the road temptedus to stop and fill our pockets, and as we were doing soa man went by on a bicycle. We stepped behind thetree just in time to avoid being seen, and although heslackened his pace and looked hard at the place wherewe were, he evidently thought it best to keep going.

We met two other men later in the night, but theyapparently did not see us, and we went on.

We left the road after that, and plunged into thewoods, for the daylight was coming.

During the day of October 7th we stayed close in thewoods, for we knew we were in a thickly settled partof the country. Lying on the ground, we could see aGerman farmer gathering in his sugar beets, ablyassisted by his women-folk. We could also hear thechildren from a school near by, playing "Ring-a-ring-a-röselein."

The rain that day was the hardest we had yet encountered, but in the afternoon the sun came out andwe got some sleep. At dusk we started out again, ona road which had forest on one side and open countryon the other. We could see the trains which ran on themain line from Hanau to Aschaffenburg. The MainRiver was at our right. Soon the forest ended abruptly,and we found ourselves in an open country, and witha railroad to cross.

As we drew near, the dog at the station gave thealarm. We stepped into a clump of trees and "froze."The man at the station came rushing out and lookedall around, but did not see us, and went back. Wethen made a wide detour and crawled cautiously overthe road on our hands and knees, for this road had rockballast which would have crunched under our feet.

We then went on through the village, where anotherdog barked at us, but could n't get any support from hispeople, who slept on. We were worried about the time,for neither of us had a watch, and we suspected that itwas near morning. We hurried along, hoping to finda shelter, but the country seemed to be open and treeless. A thick mist covered the ground and helped tohide us, but it might lift at any minute.

We struck straight east at last, in the hope of findingwoods. Through the mist we saw something ahead ofus which when we came nearer proved to be a hill.Hoping it might be wooded on the top, we made for itwith all haste. When we reached the top we found nowoods, but an old cellar or an excavation of a building.It was seven or eight feet deep, and the bottom wascovered with rubbish. Into it we went, glad of anysort of shelter.

When daylight came, we looked cautiously over theedge, and saw we were near a village; also we saw thatabout two hundred yards away there was a good thickwood, but it was too late now to think of changingour position. There was a potato patch on the face ofthe hill, with evidence of recent digging. About eighto'clock we heard voices. Women were digging thepotatoes.

Our feet were very sore that day, on account of therain and of our not being able to keep our boots offenough each day, but we lay perfectly lifeless and didnot even speak, for fear of attracting the attention ofthe potato-diggers. We wished it would rain and drivethe potato-diggers in. But about nine o'clock a worsedanger threatened us. We heard firing, and could hearcommands given to soldiers. Soon it dawned on usthat they were searching the wood for us.

The hours dragged on. We were cramped and soreof feet, hungry, and nervous from lack of sleep, butmanaged to remain absolutely motionless.

About three o'clock a five-year-old boy belonging tothe potato-digging party, strolled up to the top of thehill. Bromley saw him first, and signed to me. Heloitered around the top of the cellar a few minutes,threw some stones and dirt down, and then wanderedaway. There was nothing to indicate that he had seenus.

But in a few moments a woman and little girl came.The woman looked straight at us, and made away atfull speed. We knew she had seen us. Then we heardthe soldiers coming, shouting. It was not a pleasanttime to think of.

When they surrounded the place, we stood up, andsurrendered.

There was nothing else to do.

CHAPTER IX
CAUGHT!

AT first it seemed as if there were a platoon of soldiers:they were everywhere I looked, and there were morecoming! They were, for the most part, young fellowsfrom the training camp at Aschaffenburg, and it wasnot every day they got a chance to catch a couple ofprisoners. So it was done with a flourish!

The Captain instructed us to put up our hands, andtwo of the soldiers searched us. They were welcome tomy map, because already I was thinking of makinganother, but I did not like to see my compass go – Ikept wondering how I would ever get another.

There was no hostility in their attitude toward us,either from the soldiers or the civilians. The potato-diggers, mostly women, went straight back to their workas if they had done their share and now some one elsecould "carry on." Prisoners or no prisoners, the potatoes had to be dug.

A few children gathered around us, but they keptback at a respectful distance and made no remarks.Where the military are concerned, the civilian population do not interfere, even by words or looks.

The village women who gathered around us had mostapathetic, indifferent, sodden faces; I don't believe theyknew what it was all about. They were no more inter-

Map made by Private Simmons of the First Attempt

ested in what was going on than the black-and-whiteHolstein cows that grazed in the meadow near by.

I spoke of this afterwards to Bromley.

"But you must remember," he said, "they knewenough to go and tell on us. That was n't so slow."

We could see that the soldiers were greatly pleasedwith their catch, by the way they talked and gesticulated. Every one was pleased but us! Then the commander, addressing his men in what we took to be acongratulatory speech, called for volunteers. We knewthe word.

I looked at Bromley, and saw the same thought inhis face, but his sense of humor never failed him.

"Cheer up, Sim!" he said. "They are just callingfor volunteers to shoot us. The boys must have something to practise on."

We laughed about it afterwards, but I must say I didnot see much fun in it that minute.But it was only volunteers to take us into Aschaffenburg. The commander wished to spread the joy andgladness as far as it would go, and I think it was fullya dozen who escorted us to Aschaffenburg, about a mileand a half away.

They marched us through the principal streets, whereI saw the sign "Kleiderfabrik" many times. The peoplestopped to look at us, but I saw no evidence of hostility.I am not sure that the majority of the people knew whowe were, though of course they knew we were foreigners.

There was one person, however, who recognized us,for as we were marching past one of the street-corners,where a group had gathered, a voice spoke out in excellent English, "Canadians, by Jove! And two fine bigchaps, too!"

The voice was friendly, but when I turned to lookI could not see who had spoken.

Their pride in showing us off was "all right for them,"but pretty hard on us, for it was a long time since wehad slept, and we did not enjoy being paraded throughthe city just for fun. We knew we were in for it, andwanted to know just what they were going to do with us.

At last they drew up with great ceremony beforethe Military Headquarters, where there was more challenging, by more guards. I think another guard fellin behind to see that we did not bolt, and we were conducted into the presence of the Supreme Commanderof that Military District.

He sat at a high desk in the centre of the room. Therewere several clerks or secretaries in the room, all inuniform, and there seemed to be considerable businessgoing on when we came in, for numerous typewriterswere going and messengers were moving about. I noticed there was not a woman in the room.

When we entered and were swung up to the Commander's desk, with a few words of introduction, therewas complete silence.

The soldiers who brought us in stepped back in astraight line, all in step, and waited to be congratulated,with that conscious air of work well done that a cat haswhen she throws down a mouse and stands around tohear the kind words which will be spoken.

The Supreme Commander was a grizzled man, withbushy gray eyebrows which were in great need of beingbarbered, red cheeks, and a curled-up mustache. Hespoke through an interpreter.

We were asked our names, ages, previous occupation,when captured, and the most important questions ofall, "Why were we fighting against Germany?" and,"Why did we want to leave Germany?"

I was questioned first, and after I had answered allthe minor questions, I told him I enlisted in the Canadian Army because we considered ourselves part of theBritish Empire, and besides, Great Britain's share inthe war was an honorable one which any man might wellbe proud to fight for. I said we were fighting for thelittle nations and their right to live and govern themselves. I told him it was the violation of Belgium thathad set Canada on fire.

When this was passed on by the interpreter, I couldsee it was not well received, for the old man's eyebrowsworked up and down and he said something whichsounded like "Onions."

Then he asked me what did Canada hope to get outof the war? I said, "Nothing" – Canada would gainnothing – but we had to maintain our self-respect, andwe could n't have kept that if we had not fought."But," I said, "the world will gain a great deal from thewar, for it will gain the right to live at peace."

At the mention of peace, some of the officers laughedin contempt, but at a glance from the Supreme Commander, the laugh was checked with great suddenness!

He then asked me why I wanted to get out of Germany.

I told him no free man enjoyed being a prisoner, andbesides, I was needed in the army.

All these answers were taken down by two secretaries,and Bromley was put through the same list of questions.

He told them no one in Canada had to fight, no onewanted to fight, because we are peaceable people, butwe believe a little nation had a right to live, and we hadbeen taught that the strong must defend the weak.

When they asked him why he wanted to get awayfrom Germany, he told them he had a wife and twochildren in Canada, and he wanted to see them: whereupon the Commander broke out impatiently, "This isno time for a man to think of his wife and children!"

When the Supreme Commander was through with us,we were taken to the station and put on the train forGiessen, escorted by a Sergeant Major, who had aniron cross ribbon on his coat, and two privates.

We got a drink at a tap in the station and ate somebread and cheese from our pack, which they had nottaken away from us, but they did not offer us anythingto eat.

On the train, where we had a compartment to ourselves, one of the privates bought some fruit, and gaveus a share of it. Our German money had been takenaway from us when they searched us, and we had nothing but prison-stamps, which are of no use outside theprison-camp. One of the privates was a university man,and in broken English tried to tell us why Germany hadto enter the war, to save herself from her enemies. Ithought his reasoning was more faulty than his English,but believed in his sincerity.

He told us that every nation in the whole world hatedGermany and was jealous of "him," and that Englandwas the worst of all. He said England feared and hatedthe Bavarians most of all, and that all Bavarian prisoners were shot. I tried to convince him that this wasnot so; but he was a consistent believer and stuck to it.He said when Germany won the war "he" would bevery kind to all the countries "he" conquered, and dowell for them. He told us he hated England, but notall "Engländers" were bad!

At Hanau we changed cars and had a few minutes towait, and our guards walked up and down with us. Thestation was crowded with people, and the lunch-tableswere crowded, although it was getting late in the evening.

At Friedberg we had an hour's wait, and we saw thesame thing. Beer-drinking and eating was going on ina big lunch-room, but the patrons were ninety per centmen. The Sergeant Major with the iron cross did notbother us at all, and at Friedberg he devoted himself tothe young lady who sold cigars, beer, and post-cards inthe station.

We asked our friend who could speak a little Englishwhat they were saying, but he, being a university manand of high degree socially, gave us to understand thatthe Sergeant Major was lowering his dignity to flirtwith the girl behind the counter. He said it was all"verrücktheit" (craziness). We were of the opinionthat it was the girl who was stepping down!

When we got into Giessen, they took us on the street-car to the prison-camp, and we were glad, for it hadbeen a long day for us, and the thought of longer onesahead was not cheering.

We were taken to the hut where the prison-guardssleep, and were given a room at the very end, where wewould surely be safe. We were tired enough not to giveany trouble, and when they left us, we threw ourselvesdown without undressing and slept till morning.

At nine o'clock we were taken before the officers ofour own Company, and put through the same questions. The answers were written down, as before. Wewere then marched away to the Strafe-Barrack.

The Strafe-Barrack had in it about thirty prisoners,but it was not nearly full. These were all kept at oneend of the hut, and at the other end there were threemen whose official standing was somewhat of a mysteryto us at first. Two of them were Belgians, a private anda Sergeant, and one was a British Sergeant. They weredressed like ordinary prisoners, but seemed to be ableto go about at will.

We soon caught on to the fact that they were spies,whose business it was to watch the prisoners and repeatanything that would be of interest to the authorities.During the five days we were kept there, waiting for"cells," we found them quite friendly.

CHAPTER X
THE CELLS!

ON the morning of the fifth day two cells were reportedempty, and we were taken to them.

The cells are in a wooden building inside the camp,and in the building we were in there were ten of them,divided from each other by wooden partitions whosecracks are battened with strips of wood to prevent lightfrom coming through. There are two windows, oneover the door and one in the outside wall. These havea solid wooden door which can be shut over them, excluding every ray of light.

The cells are about six feet by eight in size, and havea wooden platform to sleep on. There is no bedding ofany kind. There is one shelf, on which a pitcher ofdrinking-water stands, and there is an electric buttonby which the guard can be called.

We were allowed to keep all our clothing, includingour overcoats, and I managed to hold on to a stub of apencil and a piece of stout string.

When the guard brought me in and told me to "makemyself at home" or words to that effect, and went out,locking the door, I sat down on the wooden platform,and looked around.

It was as black as the infernal regions – I might aswell have had my eyes shut, for all I could see. However,I kept on looking. There was no hurry – I had timeto spare. I had more time than I had ever had before.

Soon I noticed that in the partition at my right therewas a place where the darkness was broken, and a rayof light filtered through. As I watched it, into the lightspot there came two glistening points which looked verymuch like a pair of eyes.

I did not move, for I could hear the guards movingup and down the gangway, but I could hardly wait untilI heard the gates of the gangway close. Then I went tothe crack and whispered.

"Hello!"

"Hello!" came back the answer; and looking throughthe crack I saw a lighted cell, and in it a man, the ownerof the two bright eyes I had seen.

"What are you?" came a whisper.

"Canadian," I answered; "in for trying to escape."

By putting my ear to the crack, I could hear when hewhispered.

"I am a Frenchman," he said in perfect English;"Malvoisin is my name, and this is my second attackof cells – for escaping – but I 'll make it yet. Have youthe rings? No? Well, you'll get them. Look at me."

I could see that his uniform had stripes of bright redwagon paint on the seams, and circles of it on the frontof the tunic and on his trousers, with a large one on theback of the tunic between the shoulders.

"You'll get these when you get into the Strafe-Barrack," he said.

"How long shall I be there?" I asked.

"Nobody knows," he answered. "If they like you,they may keep you! It's an indeterminate sentence....That's a good cell you have. I was in that cell the lasttime, and I fixed it up a little."

"What did you do to it?" I asked.

"There's a built-in cupboard over at the other side,where you can keep your things!"

"Things!" I said – "what things? I 've nothing buta pencil and a string."

"The boys will bring you stuff," he said; and thenhe gave me instructions.

"Write a note," he said. "Here's a piece of paper,"shoving a fragment of newspaper through the crack."Write a note addressed to one of your friends, tell himyou are in cells, but get out every day to lavatory inCamp 8 – they'll bring you food, and books."

"Books!" I said. "What good would books be to mein this black hole?"

"I am just coming to that," he whispered back;"there's a crack like this with a movable batten overon the other side. You can stand on the platform, pulldown the strip of wood, and get in quite a decent lightfrom the other cell. It is a light cell like mine; and rightabove it you 'll find the board that is loose in the ceiling;you can pull it down and slip your book into the spaceand then let it up again."

I stepped over to the other side, and found everythingjust as he said. Life grew brighter all at once, and thetwo weeks of "cells" were robbed of a great part of theirterror.

I set to work to pull a nail with my cord, and wasable to do it after considerable labor, but there was nohurry at all. It all helped to put the long hours in!With the nail I made the reading-crack larger, in anticipation of the books which were to come, but was carefulnot to have it too big for the strip of wood to cover whenit was swung back into place.

When morning came I got my issue of bread, thefifth part of a small round loaf, which was my allowancefor the day. Then for ten minutes we all swept outour cells and were taken out to the lavatory. I hadmy note ready, and when the guard was not looking,slipped it into the hand of a Frenchman who wasstanding near me.

The lavatory was in the same building as Camp 8Lavatory, and was divided from theirs by a wall withan opening in it, through which parcels might be passedbetween the strands of barbed wire.

The Frenchman delivered my note quite safely, andthe next morning I found several little packages on thefloor of the lavatory. Bromley and I managed to getout at the same time, and as the guard did not understand English, we were able to say a few words to eachother.

The boys sent us things every day – chocolate, biscuits, cheese, cigarettes, matches, and books. We woreour overcoats to the lavatory each day, so we coulduse the pockets to carry back our parcels without detection. We were also careful to leave nothing in thecell that would attract the attention of the guard, andMalvoisin and I conserved matches by lighting onecigarette with the other one, through the crack.

Bromley had no reading-crack in his room, but witha nail and string soon made himself one.

Standing on the platform, I could open the reading-crack and get several inches of light on my book. Iread three or four books in this way, too, making themlast just as long as I could.

On the fourth day I had light in my cell. The twowindows were opened and the cell was aired. On thelight day I got more to eat, too, coffee in the morning, and soup in the evening. On that night I had amattress and blankets, too.

Toward the end of my two weeks I had hard luck.The cell next to mine, on which I depended for thelight to read by, was darkened. I was right in themiddle of "The Harvester." I tried it by the crackbetween my cell and that of Malvoisin, but the lightwas too dim and made my eyes ache. However, aftertwo days a light-cell prisoner was put in, and I was ableto go on with my story.

Malvoisin did all he could to make my punishmentendurable. On account of his cell being lighted, hecould tell, by the sunlight on the wall, what time itwas, and passed it on to me, and when I could n'tread because the cell next to mine was dark, he entertained me with the story of his adventures – and theywere many!

His last escape had been a marvellous one – all butthe end. When outside of the grounds, on a diggingparty, he had entertained the guards so well, by showing them fancy steps in dancing, that they had notnoticed that he was circling closer and closer to a wood.Then, when he had made some grotesque movement,which sent the staid German guards into paroxysms oflaughter, he had made a dash for the wood. The soldiersat once surrounded the place, but Malvoisin had goneup a tree. The guards fired through the woods, callingon him to surrender, while he sat safe and happy in oneof the highest branches, watching the search for him.The searching of the wood continued for two days, buthe remained in his nest in the tree, coming down atnight to get the food he had buried in the ground whileon the digging party.

They gave up the search then, and he started forSwitzerland. He got a suit of painter's clothes at oneplace – overalls and smock – by going through a window where the painters had been working, and withhis knowledge of German was passing himself off for apainter, and working toward home. But his description was in the newspapers, and a reward offered forhis capture. His brilliant black eyes and the scar onhis cheek gave him away, and one of his fellow-workmen became suspicious, and for the sake of thereward notified the military.

But he said he would be sure to reach home nexttime!

He had a week longer punishment than we had, andso when our two weeks were up we left him there.

When I said "Good-bye" to him through the crack,and tried to tell him how much he had done for me,he laughed light-heartedly and called back, "Good-bye,old man, I 'll meet you in Paris – if not sooner!"

CHAPTER XI
THE STRAFE-BARRACK

WHEN they took us to the Strafe-Barrack, the Company painter was summoned and put on our rings,which stamped us as desperate characters who wouldhave to be watched. There was something to me particularly distasteful about the rings, for I hated to havemy Canadian uniform plastered with these obnoxioussymbols. But I did not let the guards see that it bothered me at all, for we knew that the object of all theirpunishment was to break our spirits.

The Strafe-Barrack was supposed to finish the workbegun in the cells. It followed up the weakening ofour bodies and minds, caused by the fourteen days'solitude and starvation, and was intended to completethe job with its deadly monotony and inaction.

We got no parcels; so the joy of expectation waseliminated. We did not know how long we were in for,so we could not even have the satisfaction of seeingthe days pass, and knowing we were nearing the end!We had no books or papers; even the "ContinentalTimes" was denied us! We got the same food as theyhad in the prison-camp, and we had a mattress tosleep on, and two blankets.

So far as physical needs were concerned, we were aswell off as any of the fellows, but the mental stagnationwas calculated, with real German scientific reasoning,to break us down to the place where we could not thinkfor ourselves. They would break down our initiative,they thought, and then we should do as they told us.As usual in dealing with spiritual forces, they werewrong!

In the morning we swept the floor of the hut, andspread up our beds and had our breakfast. Then wesat on stools for an indefinite period, during which timewe were not supposed to speak or move. It was theduty of the guards to see that we obeyed these rules.It is a mean way to treat a human being, but it sent usstraight back upon our own mental resources, and Ithought things out that I had never thought aboutbefore. Little incidents of my childhood came back tome with new significance and with a new meaning, andlife grew richer and sweeter to me, for I got a longerview of it.

It had never occurred to me, any more than it doesto the average Canadian boy, to be thankful for hisheritage of liberty, of free speech, of decency. It hasall come easy to us, and we have taken all the appleswhich Fortune has thrown into our laps, withoutthinking.

But in those long hours in the Strafe-Barrack Ithought of these things: I thought of my father andmother... of the good times we had at home...of the sweet influences of a happy childhood, and theinestimable joy of belonging to a country that standsfor fair play and fair dealing, where the coward andthe bully are despised, and the honest and brave andgentle are exalted.

I thought and thought and thought of these things,and my soul overflowed with gratitude that I belongedto a decent country. What matter if I never saw itagain? It was mine, I was a part of it, and nothingcould ever take it from me!

Then I looked at the strutting, cruel-faced cut-throat who was our guard, and who shoved his bayonetat us and shook his dirty fist in our faces to try tofrighten us. I looked at his stupid, leering face andheavy jowl, and the sloped-back forehead which theiron heel had flattened with its cruel touch. He couldwalk out of the door and out of the camp, at will, whileI must sit on a chair without moving, his prisoner!

Bah! He, with the stupid, verboten look in his face,was the bondsman! I was free!

There were other guards, too, decent fellows whowere glad to help us all they dared. But the fear ofdetection held them to their distasteful work. One ofthem, when left in charge of us as we perched on ourchairs, went noisily out, in order to let us know he wasgoing, so that we could get off and walk about and talklike human beings, and when he came back – he hadstayed out as long as he dared – I think he rattledthe door to warn us of his coming!

Then the head spy, the Belgian private, who had hisheadquarters in the Strafe-Barrack, showed us manylittle kindnesses. He had as his batman one of theprisoners whose term of punishment had expired, andBromley, who was always quick-witted and on thealert, offered himself for the job, and was taken, andin that way various little favors came to us that weshould not otherwise have had.

Being ring-men, there were no concessions for us, andthe full rigor of the strafe would have fallen on us – and did at first; but when Bromley got to be batman,things began to loosen a little for us and we began toget part of our parcels.

The head spy claimed more than the usual agent'scommission for all these favors, but we did not complain, for according to the rules we were not entitled toany.

The process regarding the parcels was quite simple. Spies in the parcel party, working under theBelgian, brought our parcels to his room at the endof the Strafe-Barrack. He opened them and selectedwhat he wanted for himself, giving Bromley what wasleft.

Sometimes, in his work of batman, Bromley got"tired," and wanted help, suggesting that a friend of hisbe brought in to assist him. I was the friend, and inthis way I was allowed to go up to the Belgians' roomto sweep, or do something for them, and then got achance at our parcels. At night, too, when the guardhad gone and the lights were out, we got a chance toeat the things we had secreted under the mattress; butgenerally we kept our supplies in the Belgians' room,which was not in danger of being searched.

Bromley, as usual, made a great hit in his new position of batman. He had a very smooth tongue, and,finding the British Sergeant susceptible to flattery,gave him plenty of it, and when we got together afterwards, many a laugh I had over his descriptionof the British Sergeant's concern for his appearance,and of how he sent home to England for his dressuniform.

We got out together when we went back to our ownCompany to get extra clothes. We stayed out aboutas long as we liked, too, and when we came back, wehad the Belgian with us, so nothing was said. Thestrafe-barrack keepers, even the bayonet man, had awholesome fear of the Belgian.

This Belgian was always more or less of a mysteryto us. He was certainly a spy, but it was evident hetook advantage of his position to show many kindnessesto the other prisoners.

There was one book which we were allowed to readwhile in Strafe-Barrack, and that was the Bible. Therewere no Bibles provided, but if any prisoner had one,he might retain it. I don't think the Germans haveever got past the Old Testament in their reading, andwhen they read about the word of the Lord comingto some one and telling him to rise up early and go outand wipe out an enemy country – men, women, andchildren – they see themselves, loaded with Kultur,stamping and hacking their way through Belgium.

I read the Books of the Kings and some other partsof the Old Testament, with a growing resentment inmy heart every time it said the "Lord had commanded"somebody to slay and pillage and steal. I knew howmuch of a command they got. They saw somethingthey wanted, a piece of ground, a city, perhaps awhole country. The king said, "Get the people together; let's have a mass-meeting; I have a messagefrom God for the people!" When the people were assembled, the king broke the news: "God wants us towipe out the Amalekites!" The king knew that thepeople were incurably religious. They would do anything if it can be made to appear a religious duty. Thenthe people gave a great shout and said: "The Lordreigneth. Let us at the Amalekites! If you're waking,call me early" – and the show started.

The Lord has been blamed for nearly all the evilin the world, and yet Christ's definition of God is love,and He goes on to say, "Love worketh no ill to hisneighbor."

I can quite understand the early books in the Biblebeing written by men of the same cast of mind as theKaiser, who solemnly and firmly believed they werechosen of God to punish their fellow-men, and incidentally achieve their ambitions.

But it has made it hard for religion. Fair-mindedpeople will not worship a God who plays favorites.I soon quit reading the Old Testament. I was not interested in fights, intrigues, plots, and blood-letting.

But when I turned to the teachings of Christ, so fairand simple, and reasonable and easy to understand,I knew that here we had the solution of all our problems. Love is the only power that will endure, andwhen I read again the story of the Crucifixion, andChrist's prayer for mercy for his enemies because heknew they did not understand, I knew that this wasthe principle which would bring peace to the world. Itis not force and killing and bloodshed and prison-barsthat will bring in the days of peace, but that GreatUnderstanding which only Love can bring.

I was thinking this, and had swung around on mychair, contrary to rules, when the guard rushed up tome with his bayonet, which he stuck under my nose,roaring at me in his horrible guttural tongue.

I looked down at the point of his bayonet, which wasabout a quarter of an inch from my tunic, and let myeyes travel slowly along its length, and then up his arm until they met his!

I thought of how the image of God had been defacedin this man, by his training and education. It is a serious crime to destroy the king's head on a piece ofmoney; but what word is strong enough to characterizethe crime of taking away the image of God from ahuman face!

The veins of his neck were swollen with rage; hiseyes were red like a bull's, and he chewed his lips likea chained bulldog. But I was sorry for him beyondwords – he was such a pitiful, hate-cursed, horrible,squirming worm, when he might have been a man.As I looked at him with this thought in my mindthe red went from his eyes, his muscles relaxed, andhe lowered his bayonet and growled something about"Englishe schwein" and went away.

"Poor devil," I thought. I watched him, walkingaway.... "Poor devil,... it is not his fault."...

Malvoisin came to the Strafe-Barrack a week afterwe did, and I could see that the guards had specialinstructions to watch him.

None of the ring-men were allowed to go out onthe digging parties from the Strafe-Barrack, since Malvoisin had made his get-away in front of the guards,and for that reason, during the whole month we werethere, we had no chance at all for exercise.

Malvoisin was thin and pale after his three weeks'confinement in cells, but whenever I caught his eye hegave me a smile whose radiance no prison-cell coulddim. When he came into the room, every one knew it.He had a presence which even the guards felt, I think.We went out a week before him, and we smuggled outsome post-cards which he had written to his friendsand got them posted, but whether they got by thecensor, I do not know.The last I saw of him was the day he got out ofStrafe-Barrack. He walked by our hut, on the wayto his Company. He was thinner and paler still, buthe walked as straight as ever, and his shoulders werethrown back and his head was high! His French uniform was in tatters, and plastered with the obnoxiousrings. A guard walked on each side of him. But nomatter – he swung gaily along, singing "La Marseillaise."

I took my hat off as he went by, and stood uncovereduntil he disappeared behind one of the huts, for I knewI was looking at something more than a half-starved,pale, ragged little Frenchman. It was not only littleMalvoisin that had passed; it was the unconquerablespirit of France!

CHAPTER XII
BACK TO CAMP

AFTER the monotony of the cells and the Strafe-Barrack, the camp seemed something like gettinghome for Christmas. All the boys, McKelvey, Keith,Clarke, Johnston, Graham, Walker, Smith, Reid,Diplock, Palmer, Larkins, Gould, Salter, Mudge, andmany others whom I did not know so well, gatheredaround us and wanted to know how we had fared, andthe story of our attempt and subsequent punishmentformed the topic of conversation for days.

All the time we had been in retirement, we were notallowed to write letters or cards, and I began to fearthat my people would be very anxious about me. Ihad given cards to returning "strafers" to post, butI was not sure they had ever got out of Germany.Many parcels had come for me from other friends, too,and the big problem before me now was to find someway to acknowledge them. A card a week, and a lettertwice a month, does not permit of a very flourishingcorrespondence.

A decent German guard consented to take Bromleyand me to the building where the parcels were kept formen who were in punishment, and we, being strong infaith, took a wheelbarrow with us. Of course, we hadreceived a number of parcels through our friend thespy, but we hoped there would be many more. However, I got only one, a good one from G. D. Ellis,Weston, England, and that saved me from a harddisappointment. I saw there, stacked up in a pile,numerous parcels for Todd, Whittaker, Little Joe,and others, who were serving their sentences at Butzbach. I reported this to our Sergeant Major, and theparcels were opened. Some of the stuff was spoiled,but what was in good condition was auctioned offamong us and the money sent to them.

A letter came to me from my sister, Mrs. RalphBrown, of Buchanan, Saskatchewan, saying they wereworried about me because they had not heard from me,and were afraid I was not receiving my parcels. ThenI decided I would have to increase my supply of cards.The Russian prisoners had the same number of cardswe had, but seldom wrote any. Poor fellows, they hadnobody to write to, and many of them could not write.So with the contents of my parcels I bought up a supplyof cards. I had, of course, to write them in a Russian'sname, for if two cards went into the censor's handsfrom M. C. Simmons, No. 69, Barrack A, Company 6,something would happen.

So cards went to my friends from "Pte. Ivan Romanoff" or "Pte. Paul Rogowski," saying he wasquite well and had seen M. C. Simmons to-day, whowas grateful for parcel and had not been able to writelately, but would soon. These rather mystified someof the people who received them, who could not understand why I did not write directly. My cousin, MamieSimmons, and Mrs. Lackie, of Dereham Centre, Ontario, wrote a letter back to the Russian whose cardthey had received, much to his joy and surprise.

One of my great desires at this time was to have acompass, for Bromley and I were determined to makeanother attempt at escape, just as soon as we could,and many an hour I spent trying to find a way to getthe information out to my friends that I wanted acompass. At last, after considerable thinking, I sentthe following card to a friend of mine with whom I hadoften worked out puzzles, and who I felt would be aslikely to see through this as any one I could think of.

This was the message:

DEAR JIM: – I send you this card along with another to come later, which please pass on to Fred. In next parcel, send cheese, please.

Yours as ever

M. C. SIMMONS

In the address I slipped in the words – "SeaforthWds."This I hoped the censor would take to mean – "Seaforth Woods";and which I hoped my friend would read to mean – "See fourth words";and would proceed to do so.

After I had sent this away, I began to fear it mightmiscarry and resolved to try another one. I wrote aletter to my brother Flint, at Tillsonburg, Ontario, inwhich I used these words, "I want you to look intothis for me"; later on in the letter, when speaking ofquite innocent matters which had nothing to do with"compasses," I said, "Look into this for me and if youcannot manage it alone, get Charley Bradburn to helpyou."

I took the envelope, which had a bluish tint insideand steamed it open, both the ends and bottom flap,and when it was laid open, I wrote in it in a very finehand, these words: "I tried to escape, but was caughtand my compass taken away from me. Send meanother; put it in a cream cheese."

When the envelope was closed, this was almost impossible to see. I knew it was risky, for if I had beenfound out, I would have been "strafed" for this, just ashard as if I had tried to escape. However, I posted myletter and heard nothing more about it.

I had, through the kindness of friends, received anumber of books, Mr. Brockington, of Koch Siding,British Columbia, and Miss Grey, of Wimbledon, England, having been very good to me in this way; andas many of the parcels of the other boys containedbooks, too, we decided to put our books together, catalogue them, and have a library. One of the older menbecame our librarian, and before we left Giessen Ithink we had a hundred volumes.

The people who sent these books will never knowthe pleasure they gave us! The games, too, which the Red Cross sent us were never idle, and made many ahappy evening for us.

At night we had concerts, and many good plays andtableaux put on by the boys. There was a catchy Frenchlove song, "Marie," which was a great favorite with theboys. From this we began to call the Kilties "Marie,"and there were several harmless fights which had thisfor a beginning. The Kilties had a hard time of it,and had to get another dress before they could be takenon a working party. The Germans did not considerthe kilt a "decent dress" for a man.

The parcels were an endless source of delight, andI was especially fortunate in having friends who knewjust what to send. Mrs. Palmer, of Plymouth, sentme bacon; Mrs. Goodrich, my sister, and Mrs. Goodrich, Sr., of Vancouver, sent fruit-cakes; Mrs. Hill,wife of the British reservist who gave me my first drillin British Columbia, sent oatmeal, and his sisters,Mrs. Adams and Mrs. Hamer, made candy. LeeDavison, of Trail, whose brother is now a prisoner inGermany, sent me tobacco, and so did Harold Andrews,of Trail, and Billy Newell, of Koch Siding.

The distribution of the mails was a time of thrills.One of the Sergeants called it out, while every onecrowded eagerly around.

Poor Clarke, one of the brightest, merriest-heartedboys we had, seldom got a letter, but he was right onhand every time, and when there was no letter for him,would tear his hair dramatically and cry, – "Gott strafe England."

Clarke had the good gift of making everybody laugh.I remember once seeing him patching his trousers witha Union Jack, and singing, "We'll never let the OldFlag fall!"

The German respect for the military caste was wellshown in the punishment of a Russian officer who hadoffended them by something he had done or had notdone. He was sent to our hut – as a punishment.He had a room to himself, a batman, the privilege ofsending out to buy food, as much as he liked. Hispunishment consisted in having to live under the sameroof and breathe the same air as common soldiers.He was a very good fellow, and told us many thingsabout his country. Incidentally we found out that hiswages as a Lieutenant in the Russian Army were onehundred and fifty dollars a year!

Bromley and I had not worked at all since comingout of Strafe-Barrack. Being ring-men gave us immunity from labor. They would not let us outside of thecompound. Even if we volunteered for a parcel party,the guard would cry "Weg!" – which is to say, "Goback."

This made all our time leisure time, and I put inmany hours making maps, being as careful as possiblenot to let the guards see me. I got the maps in a variety of ways. Some of them had been smuggled in inparcels, and some of the prisoners had brought themin when they came.

A Canadian soldier, who was a clever artist, and hada room to himself where he painted pictures for someof the Germans, gave me the best one, and from theseI got to know quite a lot about the country. Frommy last experience I knew how necessary it was to havedetailed knowledge of the country over which we musttravel to reach the border.

My interest in maps caused the boys to suspect thatI was determined to escape, and several broached thesubject to me. However, I did not wish to form analliance with any one but Bromley. We consideredtwo was enough, and we were determined to go together.

One day, in the late fall, when the weather was getting cold, an American, evidently connected with theEmbassy, came to see us, and asked us about our overcoats. The German officers in charge of the camptreated him with scant courtesy, and evidently resented his interference. But as a result of his visitevery person who did not already have a Red Crossor khaki coat got a German coat.

Just before Christmas Day we got overcoats fromthe Red Cross, dark blue cloth, full length and welllined. They had previously sent each of us a blanket.

The treatment of overcoats was to cut a piece rightout of one sleeve, and insert a piece of yellowish-brownstuff, such as is shown in Bromley's photograph. Weknew that coats were coming for us, and were particularly anxious to get them before they were disfiguredwith the rings which they would put on or with thisband of cloth. If we could get the coats as they camefrom the Red Cross, they would look quite like civilian'scoats, and be a great help to us when we made ournext escape. Bromley and I had spent hard thinkingon how we could save our coats.

Larkins, one of the boys who worked in the parcelsoffice, watched for our overcoats, and when they camehe slipped them into the stack which had been censored,and in that way we got them without having theminterfered with. But even then we were confrontedwith a greater difficulty. The first time we wore themthe guards would notice we had no rings, and thatwould lead to trouble. The piece of cloth on the armwas not so difficult to fix. Two of the boys whose coatswere worn out gave us the pieces out of their coats,which we sewed on, instead of inserting. The rings hadbeen put on in brown paint lately instead of red, andthis gave Bromley an idea. We had a tin of cocoa,saved from our parcels, and with it we painted richbrown rings on our new coats. We were careful notto wear these coats, for we knew the cocoa rings wereperishable, but we had our old overcoats to wear whenwe needed one. This saw us past the difficulty for awhile.

On Christmas Day we had the privilege of boiling inthe cook-house the puddings which came in our parcels,and we were given a Christmas card to send insteadof the ordinary cards – that was the extent of theChristmas cheer provided for us.

Soon after Christmas there was a party of aboutfour hundred picked out to be sent away from Giessen;the ring-men were included, and all those who had refused to work or given trouble. Bromley and I werepretty sure we should be included, and in anticipationof the journey touched up the cocoa rings on our coats.They were disposed to flake off. I also prepared forthe projected move by concealing my maps.

I put several in the pasteboard of my cap and leftno trace, thanks be to the needle and thread I hadbought in the army canteen, and my big one I camouflaged as a box of cigarettes. A box of Players' Cigarettes had been sent to me, which I had not yetbroken into. I carefully removed the seal, being careful to break it so that it could be put back again without detection. Then I cut my map into pieces corresponding to the size of a cigarette, and, emptying outthe tobacco from a few, inserted the section of mapinstead, and put them carefully in with the labelshowing. I then closed the box and mended the bandso that it looked as if it had not been broken. I feltfairly safe about this.

The day came when we were to leave. Sometimes

The Christmas Card which the Giessen Prison Authorities supplied to the Prisoners

Bromley and I were on the list, sometimes we werenot. We did not really know until our names werecalled.

Our cocoa rings were fresh and fine, and we walkedout with innocent faces. I don't know why they suspected me, but the Company officer, with two soldiers,came over to me where I stood at the end of a doubleline. At the word from the officer, the soldiers tore offmy pack, opened my coat, examined the rings on mytunic which were, fortunately, of the durable red paint,guaranteed not to crock or run. I thought for surethey would search me, which I did not fear at all, formy maps I considered safe, but I did not want themfooling around me too much, for my cocoa rings wouldnot stand any rough treatment. I wished then I hadput sugar in the cocoa to make them stick better.

But after considerable argument, they left me. Justbefore the officer walked away, he shook a warningfinger at me and said, "Fini – dead – fertig," whichwas his French, English, and German for the gameidea: "If you don't behave yourself, you are a deadman!"

He directed the soldiers to keep a strict watch on us,and one of them volunteered the opinion that we shouldhave rings in our noses!

CHAPTER XIII
CELLELAGER

THE attention given to me by the prison-guards wouldhave been disconcerting to a less modest man than Iam. A soldier sat with me all the way on the train.I could not lose him! He stuck to me like a shadow.When I stood up, he stood up. When I changed myseat, he changed his. And he could understand English, too, so Bromley and I could not get a word in.He seemed to me – though I suppose that was simplyimagination – to be looking at my rings, and I knewmy pack's string was rubbing them. I hardly knewwhat to do. At last I hastily removed my pack, foldedmy overcoat so that the rings would not show, andhung it up, but as the train lurched and rolled, I wasfearful of the effect this would have on the rings. Ifancied I smelled dry cocoa, and seemed to see lightbrown dust falling on the seat. Why had n't I thoughtto put sugar in it when I mixed it up?

When we reached the camp, which was calledCellelager, we found we had come to one which wasnot in the same class as Giessen. The sleeping-accommodations were insufficient for the crowd of men, andthere was one bunk above the other. There was onecanteen for the whole camp (instead of one in each hutas we had in Giessen), and here we could buy cakes,needles, thread, and buttons, also apples. The foodwas the same, except that we had soup in the morninginstead of coffee, and it was the worst soup we had yetencountered. As an emetic, it was an honest, hard-working article which would bring results, but it lackedall the qualifications of a good soup. I tried it only once.

We were delighted to see no rings except what wehad in our party. The Commandant of the camp didnot take any notice of them, so we were able to removeall traces of them from our new overcoats, and whenSteve Le Blanc, from Ottawa, gave me a nice navy-blue civilian coat, I gave my ringed tunic to one of theboys, who forthwith passed himself off for a ring-man,to avoid being sent out to work.

I found, however, he only enjoyed a brief exemption,for his record, all written down and sent along with him,showed his character had been blameless and exemplary, and the rings on his coat could not save him.It was "Raus in!" and "Raus out!" every day for him!In this manner did his good deeds find him out.

There was a football ground at this camp, and atheatre for the prisoners to use, but in the week we werethere I saw only one game of football.

At the end of a week we were moved again, most ofus. They did not, of course, tell us where we weregoing, but as they picked out all of us who had evertried to escape – and all those who had refused towork – we were pretty sure it was not a "Reward ofMerit" move.

We were awakened at a very early hour and werestarted off to the station, loaded with stuff. We hadblankets, wash-basin, empty mattress, and woodenclogs. The boys did not take kindly to the woodenclogs, and under cover of the darkness – for it was longbefore daylight – they threw them away. The road tothe station the next morning must have looked as ifa royal wedding party had gone by.

This time we were glad to be able to see where wewere going, although it was a dismal, barren countrywe travelled through, with many patches of heathermoor and marsh. The settlements were scattered andthe buildings poor. But even if we did not think muchof the country, we liked the direction, for it was northwest, and was bringing us nearer Holland.

At Bremen, the second largest seaport in Germany,we stayed a couple of hours, but were not let out of ourcar, so saw nothing of the city.

At about four o'clock in the afternoon, we arrivedin Oldenburg, and began our eight-mile march toVehnemoor Camp, which is one of the Cellelagergroup and known as Cellelager VI. We were glad todispose of our packs by loading them on a canal-boat,which we pulled along by ropes, and we arrived at thecamp late in the evening.

This camp had but a few prisoners in it when wecame, but there were nearly four hundred of us, and wefilled it to overflowing. There were three tiers of bunkswhere the roof was high enough to admit of it, and thatfirst night we were there we slept on our empty mattresses. However, we still had our Red Cross blanketand the two German blankets apiece, and we managedto keep warm. There were two rooms with two peatstoves in each room.

The camp was built beside a peat bog, on groundfrom which the peat had been removed, and there wasno paving of any kind around it. One step from thedoor brought us to the raw mud, and the dirt insidethe camp was indescribable. There were no books orpapers; the canteen sold nothing but matches, notepaper, and something that tasted remotely like buckwheat honey.

The first morning the Commandant addressed us,through an interpreter. He told us he had heard aboutus. There was dead silence at that; we were pretty surewe knew what he had heard. Then he told us thatsome of us had refused to work and some had triedto escape; he was grieved to hear these things! Hehoped they would not happen again. It was foolishto act this way, and would meet with punishment (weknew that). If we would retain his friendship, we mustdo as we were told. There was no other way to retain his friendship. He repeated that. Some of us feltwe could get along without his friendship better thanwithout some other things. We noticed from the firstthat he did n't seem sure of himself.

Then came roll-call!

None of us like the thought of getting out to work inthis horrible climate, cold, dark, and rainy, and theroll-call brought out the fact that we had very fewable-bodied men. He had a list of our names, and wewere called in groups into an office. Bromley and Igave our occupations as "farmers," for we hoped to besent out to work on a farm and thus have an opportunity of getting away.

Most of the Canadians were "trappers," though Iimagine many of them must have gained their experience from mouse-traps. Many of the Englishmen were"boxers" and "acrobats." There were "musicians,""cornetists," and "trombone artists," "piano-tuners,""orchestra leaders," "ventriloquists," "keepers in asylums," "corsetiers," "private secretaries," "masseurs,""agents," "clerks," "judges of the Supreme Court,"and a fine big fellow, a Canadian who looked as if hemight have been able to dig a little, gave his occupationas a "lion-tamer."

The work which we were wanted to do was to turnover the sod on the peat bogs. It looked as if they werejust trying to keep us busy, and every possible meanswas tried by us to avoid work.

The "lion-tamer" and three of his companions,fine, vigorous young chaps, stayed in bed for about aweek, claiming to be sick. They got up for a whileevery afternoon – to rest. The doctor came three timesa week to look us over, but in the intervening daysanother man, not a doctor, who was very good-natured,attended to us.

One day nine went on "sick parade"; that is, linedup before the medical examiner and were all exemptedfrom work. The next day there were ninety of us numbered among the sick, and we had everything fromgalloping consumption to ingrowing toe-nails, and wereprepared to give full particulars regarding the same.But they were not asked for, for armed guards camein suddenly and we were marched out to work at thepoint of the bayonet.

Steve Le Blanc, one of the party, who was a splendidactor, spent the morning painfully digging his own grave.He did it so well, and with such faltering movementsand so many evidences of early decay, that he almostdeceived our own fellows. He looked so drawn andpale that I was not sure but what he was really sick,until it was all over. When he had the grave dug downto the distance of a couple of feet, the guard stoppedhim and made him fill it in again, which he did, anderected a wooden cross to his own memory, and delivered a touching funeral oration eulogizing the departed.

We all got in early that day, but most of us decidedwe would not try the "sick parade" again.

This was in the month of January, which is the rainyseason, and there was every excuse for the boys' notwanting to work – besides the big reason for not wanting to help the Germans.

One night, when some of our fellows came in fromwork, cold, wet, and tired, and were about to attacktheir supper of black bread and soup, the mail came in,and one of the boys from Toronto got a letter from ayoung lady there who had been out on the KingstonRoad to see an Internment Camp. He let me read theletter. She had gone out one beautiful July day, shesaid, and found the men having their evening mealunder the beeches, and they did so enjoy their strawberries and ice-cream; and they had such lovely gardens, she said, and enough vegetables in them to provide for the winter. The conclusion of the letter is wherethe real sting came: "I am so glad, dear Bert, that youare safe in Germany out of the smoke and roar and dirtof the trenches. It has made me feel so satisfied aboutyou, to see these prisoners. I was worrying a littleabout you before I saw them. But now I won't worrya bit. I am glad to see prisoners can be so happy. Iwill just hope you are as well cared for as they are....Daddy and Mother were simply wild about Germanywhen they were there two years before the war. Theysay the German ways are so quaint and the childrenhave such pretty manners, and I am afraid you will beawfully hard to please when you come back, for Daddyand Mother were crazy about German cooking."

I handed the letter back, and Bert and I looked ateach other. He rolled his eyes around the crowdedroom, where five hundred men were herded together.Two smoking stoves, burning their miserable peat,made all the heat there was. The double row of berthslined the walls. Outside, the rain and sleet fell dismally. Bert had a bowl of prison soup before him, anda hunk of bread, black and heavy. He was hungry, wet,tired, and dirty, but all he said was, "Lord! What dothey understand?"

Every day we devised new ways of avoiding goingto work. "Nix arbide" (no work) was our motto.The Russians, however, never joined us in any of ourplans, neither did they take any part in the fun. Theywere poor, melancholy fellows, docile and broken inspirit, and the guards were much harsher with themthan with us, which was very unjust, and we resented it.

We noticed, too, that among our own fellows thosewho would work were made to work, while the "lion-tamer" and his husky followers lay in bed unmolested.His latest excuse was that the doctor told him to lie inbed a month – for he had a floating kidney. Of coursethe doctor had not said anything of the kind, but hebluffed it out.

One morning when the guards were at their difficulttask of making up a working party, they reported thatthey were twenty-five men short. Every one had beenat roll-call the night before, the guards were on duty,no one could have got away. Wild excitement reigned.Nobody knew what had happened to them. Afterdiligent searching they were found – rolled up in theirmattresses.

They were all quickly hauled forth and sent out towork. The mattress trick had worked well until toomany had done it, on this morning.

The morning was a troublesome time, and we all feltbetter when it had passed; that is, if we had eluded orbluffed the guard. Bromley and I had a pretty successfulway of getting very busy when the digging party wasbeing made up. We would scrub the table or grab a gadbroom and begin to sweep, and then the guards, thinkingthis work had been given to us, would leave us alone!

As time went on, the Commandant became moreand more worried. I think he realized that he had atough bunch to handle. If he had understood English,he could have heard lots of interesting things abouthis Kaiser and his country – particularly in the songs.The "lion-tamer" and his three followers generallyled the singing, sitting up in their bunks and roaringout the words.

The singing usually broke out just after the guardshad made an unsuccessful attempt to pull the bedclothes off some of the boys who had determined tostay in bed all day; and when the few docile ones haddeparted for the peat bog, the "shut-ins" grew joyfulto the point of singing.

This was a hot favorite:

"O Germany, O Germany;
Your fate is sealed upon the sea.
Come out, you swine, and face our fleet;
We'll smash you into sausage-meat."

Another one had a distinctly Canadian flavor:

"Kaiser Bill, Kaiser Bill, you'd better be in hell, be in hell!
When Borden's beauties start to yell, start to yell,
We 'll hang you high on Potsdam's palace wall –
You're a damned poor Kaiser after all."

They had another song telling how they hated towork for the Germans, the refrain of which was "Nixarbide" (I won't work).

The Commandant came in one day to inspect thehuts. The "bed-ridden" ones were present in largenumbers, sitting up enjoying life very well for "invalids." The Commandant was in a terrible humor,and cried out "Schweinstall" – which is to say "pig-pen" – at the sight of the mattresses. He didn'tlike anything, and raged at the way the fellows hadleft their beds. It might have seemed more reasonable,if he had raged at the way some of them had not lefttheir beds! The men he was calling down were thegentle ones, those who were out working. But to the"lion-tamer" and his followers, who were lazily lyingin their beds, laughing at him, he said never a word.

We knew enough about Germany and Germanmethods to know this sort of a camp could not last.Something was going to happen; either we should allbe moved, or there would be a new Commandant anda new set of guards sent down. This Commandant hadonly handled Russians, I think, and we were a new sortof Kriegsgefangenen (prisoners of war). Bromley andI wanted to make our get-away before there was achange, but we had no compass – my card had notbeen answered.

There was a man named Edwards, who was captured May 8th, a Princess Pat, who once at Giessenshowed me his compass and suggested that we go together next time. He was at Vehnemoor, too, andBromley and I, in talking it over, decided to ask Edwards and his friend to join us. Then the four of usgot together and held many conferences. Edwards hada watch and a compass; I had maps, and Edwardsbought another one. We talked over many plans, andto Edwards belongs the honor of suggesting the planwhich we did try.

The difficulties in the way of escaping were many.The camp-ground was about three hundred feet longand seventy-five feet wide, surrounded by a barbed-wire fence about ten feet high. The fence had beenbuilt by putting strong, high posts in the ground andstretching the wire on with a wire-stretcher, so that itcould not be sprung either up or down. The bottomwires were very close together. Inside of this was anordinary barbed-wire fence with four or five strands,through which we were forbidden to go.

Outside the camp at the northwest corner was thehut where the guards lived when not on duty, andbeside this hut was the kennel where the watch-dogwas kept. He was a big dog, with a head like a husky!The camp was lighted by great arc-lights about sixtyfeet apart. German soldiers were stationed outside andall around the camp, and were always on the alert.

We planned to go on Friday night, but an unforeseen event made that impossible. A very dull Germansoldier had taken out about a dozen Frenchmen towork on the moor. Two of them had slipped awaysome time during the afternoon, and he did not noticehe was short until he got in. Then great excitementprevailed, and German soldiers were sent out in pursuit. We watched them going out, dozens of them, anddecided this was a poor time to go abroad. The moonwas nearly full and the clouds which had filled thesky all day, were beginning to break, all of which wasagainst us.

On Saturday, just as we feared, an extra guard ofabout twenty-five men was sent in from Oldenburg,and as the guard changed every two hours, and thiswas about 5.30 o'clock in the evening when they came,we reasoned that the double guard would go on atseven. After the guard had been doubled, there wouldbe but little chance for us.

It was now or never!

CHAPTER XIV
OFF FOR HOLLAND!

THE eastern fence was the one we had marked as ourpoint of departure, and, Saturday being wash-day,there was nothing suspicious in the fact that we hadhung our clothes there to dry. They had to be hungsomewhere.

The boys were expecting parcels that night, for acanal-boat had come up from Oldenburg, and every onewas out in the yard. Several of the boys were in ourconfidence, and we had asked them to stroll up anddown leisurely between the hut and the east fence.

Just at the last minute the fourth man, Edwards'sfriend, came to me and said: –

"Sim, we will never make it. The guards will seeus, and they'll shoot us – you know they'll just beglad to pot us to scare the others. It is madness tothink we can get away from here with these lightsshining."

I told him I thought we had a chance, but did not tryto persuade him. Of course, we all knew we were taking a grave risk, but then, why should n't we? It wasthe only way out.

"Don't go, Sim," he said earnestly.

I told him we were going, but if he felt as he said, itwould be better for him not to come, and already I couldsee that Edwards, who was in the group of strollers, haddropped on his stomach and was filing the lower wireof the inner fence, and when the wire broke he crawledthrough to the other fence.

I joined the party of strollers then, and walkingtoward the fence, could see what Edwards was doing.

With his left hand he held the bottom wire and filedit close to the post, which did much to deaden the sound,but when the wire broke, to my strained ears the crackwas loud enough to alarm the guard. But the sound ofour voices must have covered it over, for all went well.

We walked back again leisurely, though to myexcited imagination the sound of the filing deadenedevery other sound. We were back to the fence againwhen I heard the whang of the second wire, and at thatI dropped to the ground and began to crawl afterEdwards.

The light from the arc-lights caught the horseshoes onthe heels of Edwards's boots, and they flashed to myeyes and seemed to me to shine like the headlights ofan engine! It seemed to me as if the guards must seethem.

On he went – on – and on I followed, and behindme came Bromley. I could hear him breathe abovethe beating of my own heart.

Crawling is a slow and terrible way to travel whenevery instinct cries out to run. But for about twentyyards we crawled like snakes – changing then to theeasier method of creeping on hands and knees.

Then three shots rang out, and it seemed as if ourhearts stopped beating – but we kept on going!Our first thought was, of course, that we had beendiscovered. But no other sound came to us, and, looking back to the Lager, we could still see the men movingcarelessly about.

The bog was traversed by many ditches, and had aflat but uneven surface, with tufts of grass here andthere. It gave us no shelter, but the winter night hadfallen, and we were glad of the shelter afforded by thedarkness. We knew the moon would be up before long,and we wanted to be as far away from the camp aspossible before that happened.

I had gone out to work for a couple of days, to get aknowledge of the country, and I knew from my mapthat there was a railway at the edge of the bog, and asthis would be the place where they would expect tocatch us, we wanted to get past it as soon as possible.But the ditches, filled with water cold as ice, gave usgreat trouble. Generally we could jump them, butsometimes they were too wide and we had to scramblethrough the best we could.

About eight o'clock the moon came up, a great ballof silver in a clear blue sky, and turned the stagnantwater of the bog to pools of silver. It was a beautifulnight to look at, but a bad night for fugitives. Bromley, being a little heavier than either Edwards or I,broke through the crust of the bog several times, andhad difficulty in getting out.

About midnight, with the heavy going, he began toshow signs of exhaustion. His underwear, shrunkenwith cold-water washing, bound his limbs, and he toldus he could not keep up. Then we carried his overcoatand told him we would stop to rest just as soon as wecrossed the track, if we could find a bush, and he madebrave efforts to keep up with us.

"You'll be all right, Tom, when we get out of theswamp," we told him.

About half-past two we reached the railroad, andfinding a close thicket of spruce on the other side, wewent in and tried to make Bromley comfortable. Hefell fast asleep as soon as he got his head down, and itwas evident to Edwards and me that our comrade wasin poor shape for a long tramp. Still we hoped that aday's rest would revive him. He slept most of the dayand seemed better before we started out.

The day was dry and fine, but, of course, we werewet from the hard going across the bog, and it was toocold to be comfortable when not moving.

We could hear the children playing, and the wagonspassing on a road near by, and once we heard thewhistle of a railway train – but no one came near thewood.

At nightfall we stole out and pushed off again.Bromley made a brave attempt to keep going, but themud and heavy going soon told on him, and he beggedus to go on and leave him.

"If you don't go on, boys," he said, "we'll all betaken. Leave me, and you two will have a chance.I can't make it, boys; I can only crawl along."

We came to a road at last and the going was easier.Bromley found he could get along more easily, and wewere making pretty fair time when we saw somethingdark ahead of us. I was of the opinion that we shouldgo around it, but Bromley could not stand any moretravelling across country, and we pushed on.

The dark object proved to be a house, and it wasonly one of many, for we found ourselves in a smalltown. Then we took the first road leading out of thetown, and, walking as fast as we could, pushed quietly outfor the country, Edwards ahead, I next, and Bromleybehind.

I heard some one whistling and thought it wasBromley, and waited for him to come up to tell him tokeep quiet, but when he came beside me, he whispered,"They are following us."

We went on.

Soon a voice behind us called, "Halt!"

"It's no use, Sim – they have us," Bromley whispered.

Ahead of us was a little bush, toward which we keptgoing. We did not run, because we thought that thepeople who were following us were not sure who wewere, and therefore would not be likely to shoot.Bromley knew he could not stand a race for it in hiscondition, but, knowing him as I do, I believe he wouldhave made the effort; but I think he saw that if he wentback and surrendered, it would give us more time toget away.

"Go on, Sim," he whispered to me.

We had agreed that if anything happened to one ofus, the others were to go on. We could not hope tohelp each other against such numbers.

When we got opposite the wood, we made a dashfor it.

I think it was then that Bromley went back and gavehimself up. I often wondered what he told them aboutthe other men they had seen. Whatever he thoughtwas best for our safety, I am sure of that, for Bromleywas a loyal comrade and the best of chums.

We lay there for a while, wondering what to do. Wewere about in the middle of a very small grove, andknew it was a poor place to stay in, for it was a thinwood, and the daylight was not far distant.

Edwards, who was right beside me, whispered thathe had just seen a soldier climb a tree and another onehanding him a gun. This decided us to crawl to theedge of the wood again. But when we reached it,Edwards, who was ahead, whispered back to me thathe saw three civilians right in front of us.

This began to look like a tight corner.

We determined to take a chance on the civilians'not being armed, and make a dash for it. We did, and"the civilians" turned out to be a group of slim evergreens. We saw a forest ahead, and made for it. Theground was sandy and poor, and the trees were scattered and small, and grew in clumps. The going wasnot hard, but the loss of Bromley had greatly depressedus.

Once we met a man – ran right into him – andprobably scared him just as much as he did us. Hegave us a greeting, to which we grunted a reply, agrunt being common to all languages.

We saw the headlight of a train about three o'clockin the morning, reminding us of the railroad to thesouth of us.

Coming to a thick spruce grove, we decided to takecover for the day. The morning was red and cloudy,with a chilly wind crackling the trees over our heads,but as the day wore on, the wind went down and thesun came out. It was a long day, though, and it seemedas if the night would never come. It was too cold tosleep comfortably, but we got a little sleep, some way.

When we started out at night, we soon came to aditch too wide to jump, and as our feet were dry wedid not want to wet our socks, so took them off andwent through. January is a cold month for wadingstreams, and a thin crust of ice was hard on the feet.They felt pretty numb for a while, but when we hadwiped them as dry as we could and got on our socks andboots again, they were soon all right. But our care forour feet did not save them, for the muddy ground,full of bog-holes, which we next encountered, made usas wet and miserable as we could be.

One large town – it may have been Sögel – gave usconsiderable trouble getting around it.

The time of year made the going bad. There were novegetables in the gardens or apples on the trees; nocows out at pasture. Even the leaves were gone fromthe trees, thus making shelter harder to find. Thespruce trees and Scotch fir were our stronghold, and itwas in spruce thickets we made our hiding-places by day.

The advantage of winter travel was the longer nights,and although it had been raining frequently, and thecoldest, most disagreeable rains, the weather was dryduring the time we were out. But the going was heavyand bad, and when the time came to rest, we werecompletely done out.

We had put ourselves on short rations because wehad not been able to save much; we had no way ofcarrying it except in our pockets, and we had to becareful not to make them bulge. We had biscuits,chocolate, and cheese, but not being able to get evena raw turnip to supplement our stores, we had to savethem all we could.

On January 25th, our third day out, the bush was soshort we had to lie all day to remain hidden. We couldnot once stand up and stretch, and the day was interminably long. A bird's nest, deserted now, of course, andbroken, hung in a stunted Scotch fir over my head,and as I lay looking at it I thought of the hard strugglebirds have, too, to get along, and of how they have tobe on the watch for enemies.

Life is a queer puzzle when a person has time tofigure it out. We make things hard for each other.Here we were, Ted and I, lying all day inactive, notbecause we wanted to, but because we had to, to saveour lives. Lying in a patch of scrub, stiff, cold, andhungry, when we might have been clearing it out andmaking of it a farm which would raise crops and helpto feed the people! Hunger sharpens a man's mind andgives him a view of things that will never come whenthe stomach is full; and as we lay there under scrub,afraid even to speak to each other, afraid to move, fora crackling twig might attract some dog who wouldbark and give the alarm, I took a short course insociology.... The Catholics are right about having thepeople come fasting to mass, for that is the time toget spiritual truths over to them!

Hunger would solve all the capital and labor troublesin the world; that is, if the employers could be starvedfor a week – well, not a whole week – just about aslong as we had – say, two biscuits a day for three days,with nothing better ahead. But hunger is just a wordof two syllables to most people. They know it bysight, they can say it and write it, but they do notknow it.

At these times the thought of liberty became a passion with us. Still, we never minimized the dangernor allowed ourselves to become too optimistic. Weknew what was ahead of us if we were caught: thecells and the Strafe-Barrack, with incidentals.

On the fourth day we crossed an open patch ofcountry, lightly wooded, and then came to a wide moorwhich offered us no protection whatever. Our onlyconsolation was that nobody would be likely to visitsuch a place. There was not even a rabbit or a bird,and the silence was like the silence of death.

I knew from my map that we had to cross the riverEms, and I also knew that this would probably be thedeciding factor in our escape. If we got over the Ems,we should get the rest of the way.

About two o'clock in the morning we reached theEms. It is a big river in normal times, but it was nowin flood, as we could see by the trees which stood inthe water, as well as by the uprooted ones that floateddown the stream. Swimming was out of the question.

We hunted along the bank that morning, but couldfind nothing, and as daylight was coming, we had totake cover.

All day we remained hidden in a clump of spruceand looked out upon the cruel sweep of water thatdivided us from liberty. The west wind came softlyto us, bringing sounds from the Holland border, whichwe knew from our map was only four or five milesaway! We heard the shunting of cars and the faintringing of bells.

We discussed every plan. We would search the riverbank for a boat, though we were afraid the Germanthoroughness would see to it that there was no boaton this side of any of their border rivers. Still, theycould not watch everything, and there might be one.

Failing that, we would make a raft to carry ourclothes, and swim it. We had a knife, but no rope.I remember in "Swiss Family Robinson" how easily things came to hand when they were needed, andI actually looked in the dead grass at my feet to see ifby any chance I might find a rope or wire – or something.

But there were no miracles or fairies – no fortunatehappenings for us; and when night came on again wescoured the bank for a boat, but in vain. Never a boatcould we see.

We then drew together some of the driftwood thatlay on the shore, but when we tried it in the water itwould hardly float its own weight. I felt the hopelessness of this plan, but Ted worked on like a beaver, andI tried to believe he had more hope than I had. Butsuddenly he looked at me, as he stopped, and I feltthat our last plan was gone!

"It's no use," he said.

There was only the bridge left, and that, we knew,was very dangerous. Still, there was a chance. Itmight not be guarded – the guard might be gone fora few minutes. And all the time the murmurs came tous on the wind from the Holland border, and soundedfriendly and welcoming.

We started out to find the bridge.

We were better dressed than Bromley and I hadbeen, for we had on the dark blue overcoats, but notbeing able to speak the language was dead against us.

"Even if they do get us, Sim," Ted said, "we'll tryit again – if we live through the punishment."

"All right," I said, "I'm game."

CHAPTER XV
CAUGHT AGAIN

THE bridge was a fine iron one without lights. Theroad which led to it was not much travelled, and itlooked as if it might carry us over – without accident.Anyway, it was our only chance.

We walked on to the bridge, taking care to make nonoise, and striking a gait that was neither slow nor fast.

We were nine tenths of the way over the bridge, withhope springing in our tired hearts at each step. Awayto the west, straight ahead of us, distant lights twinkled.We thought they were in Holland, and they beckonedto our tired hearts like the lights of home.

We were only about ten feet from the other side ofthe bridge, when... suddenly a light was flashed onus, a great dazzling light that seemed to scorch andwither us. It seemed to burn our prison-clothes intoour very souls. I 'm sure the rings on my knees showedthrough my overcoat!

Into the circle of light three German soldiers came,with rifles levelled.

They advanced upon us until their bayonets weretouching us. And again we saw our dream of freedomfade!

The soldiers took us in charge and marched us toLathen, a town near by, where part of the hotel wasused as barracks. They showed us no hostility; it wasjust part of their day's work to gather in escapingprisoners.

There was a map on the wall, and when they askedus where we came from, we showed them Canada onthe map of the North American Continent. They weredecent-looking young fellows and asked us many questions about Canada.

Although it was about midnight there seemed to bepeople on the streets, which were brilliantly lighted.A Sergeant Major came in, with a gendarme, who hadtwo women with him. They were well-dressed lookingwomen, but I kept wondering what they were doing outso late.

The Sergeant Major and the policeman lacked thefriendliness of the privates, and the former began theconversation by saying, "England ist kaputt." TheSergeant Major repeated his statement, with greateremphasis, and I put more emphasis on my reply, andthere we stuck! It did not seem that we could get anyfarther. It seemed a place to say, "Time will tell."

The gendarme was a coarse, beer-drinking type, andI kept wondering how two such fine-looking womencame to be with him. The younger and handsomer onewas not his wife, I knew – he was so attentive to her.The other one may have been, though she was evidently his superior in every way. Still, even in our owncountry very fine women are sometimes careless aboutwhom they marry.

The Sergeant Major poured out a volume of questions in German, to which we replied, "Nix forstand."

Then the gendarme thought something was beingoverlooked, and he suggested that we be searched.I was afraid of that, and had taken the precaution ofhiding the compass as well as I could, by putting it inthe bottom of the pasteboard box that held our shaving-stick. The stick had been worn down, leaving roomfor the compass at the bottom of the box.

The soldier who searched us did not notice the compass, and handed the shaving-stick back to me, and Ibreathed easier. But the gendarme had probably donemore searching than the soldier, and asked me for it.He immediately let the stick fall out, and found thecompass, which he put in his pocket, with a wink atthe others... and it was gone.

All our little articles were taken from us and put intotwo parcels, which we were allowed to carry, but notkeep, and which were eventually returned to us, and,whether it was done by carelessness or not I do notknow, but by some fortunate circ*mstance my mapswere left in my pay-book case and put in the package,but I did not see them until after my punishment wasover.

My notebook attracted the attention of the gendarme, and he took it from me. I had made entrieseach day, and these he read aloud, translating theminto German as he went, much to the apparent entertainment of the two women, who laughed at him, with

Map made from Paper which came in a Parcel, wrapped around a Fruit-Cake
Notice the stain caused by the cake. This is the map that was hidden in the cigarette-box

a forced gaiety which confirmed my diagnosis of theirrelationship. I think he was crediting me with entriesI had never made, for the central figure seemed to beone "Rosie Fräulein," whom I did not have the pleasureof meeting.

We could see that although the privates were friendly,there was no semblance of friendliness in either thegendarme or the Sergeant Major. I think they wouldhave gladly shot us on the spot – if they had dared.They were pronounced cases of anglophobia.

The gendarme at last broke out into English, cuttinghis words off with a snarl:

"What do you fellows want to get back for anyway? England is no good! England is a liar, and athief."

When he said this, I could see Edwards's face growwhite and his eyes glitter. He was breathing hard, likea man going up a steep hill, and his hands were openingand closing. He walked over to the gendarme and glaredin his face, – "What do I want to get back for?" herepeated in a steady voice, stretched tight like a wire,"I'll tell you – this is not any ordinary war, wherebrave men fight each other. This is a war against womenand children and old men. I have fought with theBoers in Africa, but I bore them no ill-will – theyfought like men and fought with men. I 've been throughBelgium – I 've seen what you have done. I have boysof my own – little fellows – just like the ones youcut the hands off – and I will tell you why I want toget back – I want to serve my country and my God – by killing Germans – they're not fit to live!"

The women drew back in alarm, though I do notthink they understood the words. Instinctively I drewup beside Edwards, for I thought it was the end; butto our surprise the brutal face of the gendarme relaxedinto a broad grin, and he turned to the women andSergeant Major and made some sort of explanation.We did not know what was coming, and then a controversy took place between the two men as to whatshould be done with us. The gendarme wanted totake us, but the ladies protested, and at last we wereled away by the two privates, carrying our two littlepackages of belongings.

We went into an adjoining room, where a coal fireburned in a small round heater, whose glow promisedcomfort and warmth. The privates very kindly broughtus a drink of hot coffee and some bread, and pulledtwo mattresses beside the stove and told us to go tosleep. Then they went out and brought back blankets,and with friendly looks and smiles bade us good-night,incidentally taking our shoes with them.

"The Germans are a spotty race," said Ted, as welay down. "Look at these two fellows – and thenthink of those two mugs that any decent man wouldwant to kill at sight!" – He pointed to the room wherewe had left the gendarme and the Sergeant Major."Oh – wouldn't I enjoy letting a bit of daylightthrough that policeman's fat carcass!"

Next morning, when we awakened, our guards cameagain and brought us some more coffee and bread.It was a bright morning, of sunshine, with a frostwhich glistened on the pavement and the iron railingsurrounding the building we were in.

The streets were full of people, and streamers ofbunting festooned the buildings. Children were onthe streets, carrying flags, and the place had a realholiday appearance.

"Suppose this is all in our honor, Sim," Ted said ashe looked out of the window. "I wonder how theyknew we were coming – we really did not intend to."

One of the guards, who had a kodak and was takingpictures of the celebration, asked us if he could take ourpictures. So we went out to the front door, which washung with flags, and had a picture taken.

"What are the flags up for?" we asked him.

"It is the birthday of the All-Highest," he repliedproudly.

Ted said to me, so the guard could not hear, "Well,the old man has my sincere wishes – that it may behis last."

During the forenoon we were taken by rail to Meppen. The Sergeant Major came with us, but did notstay in the compartment with the guards and us. Onthe way the guard who had taken our photographshowed us the proof of it, and told us he would sendus one, and had us write down our addresses. Hemust have been a photographer in civil life, for he hadmany splendid pictures with him, and entertained usby showing them to us. I remember one very prettypicture of his young daughter, a lovely girl of aboutfourteen years of age, standing under an apple-tree.

Before the Sergeant Major handed us over to themilitary authorities at Meppen, he told them whatEdwards had said about wanting to go back to killGermans, but he did not tell all that Edwards had said.However, they treated us politely and did not seem tobear us any ill-will.

In the civil jail at Meppen to which we were taken,and which is a fine building with bright halls andpleasant surroundings, we were put in clean and comfortable cells. There was a bed with mattress andblankets, which in the daytime was locked up againstthe wall, toilet accommodations, drinking-water, chair,table, wash-basin, and comb. It looked like luxury tous, and after a bowl of good soup I went to sleep.

I wakened the next morning much refreshed andin good spirits. The guard was polite and obliging,and when I said, "Guard, I like your place," his facebroke into a friendly grin which warmed my heart.Ted had spoken truly when he said the Germans werea "spotty race." It is a spotty country, too, and oneof the pleasant spots to us was the civil jail at Meppen.

Of course, to men who had been sleeping in beds andeating at tables and going in and out at their ownpleasure, it would have been a jail; but to us, dirty, tired,hungry, red-eyed from loss of sleep, and worn withanxiety, it was not a jail – it was a haven of rest. Andin the twenty-four hours that we spent there we madethe most of it, for we well knew there were hard timescoming!

CHAPTER XVI
THE INVISIBLE BROTHERHOOD

A SPECIAL guard was sent from Vehnemoor to bringus back, and we had to leave our comfortable quartersat Meppen and go back with him.

The guard took a stout rope and tied us together,my right wrist to Edwards's left, and when we weresecurely roped up, he tried to enlighten us further bydancing around us, shouting and brandishing his gun,occasionally putting it against our heads and pretending he was about to draw the trigger. This was his wayof explaining that he would shoot us if we did n'tbehave ourselves.

We tried to look back at him with easy indifference,and when he saw that he had not succeeded in frightening us, he soon ceased to try. However, from thewicked looks he gave us, we could see that he wouldbe glad to shoot us – if he had a reasonable excuse.

At the station in Meppen, where he took us fully anhour before train time, as we stood in the waiting-roomwith the guard beside us, the people came and lookedcuriously at us. The groups grew larger and larger,until we were the centre of quite a circle. We did notenjoy the notoriety very much, but the guard enjoyedit immensely, for was he not the keeper of two hardened and desperate men?

We noticed that the majority of the women weredressed in black. Some of them were poor, sad, spiritless-looking creatures who would make any personsorry for them; and others I saw whose faces were ashard as the men's. The majority of them, however,seemed to be quite indifferent; they showed neitherhostility nor friendliness to us.

We changed cars at Leer, where on the platform adrunken German soldier lurched against us, and, seeingus tied together, offered to lend us his knife to cut thecord, but the guard quickly frustrated his kind intention.

At Oldenburg we were herded through the crowdedstation and taken out on the road for Vehnemoor, theguard marching solemnly behind us. He knew we hadno firearms, and we were tied together, but when Tedput his free hand in his pocket to find some chocolate,as we walked along, the guard screamed at him in fear.He seemed to be afraid we would in some way outwithim.

But he was quite safe from us; not that we wereafraid of either him or his gun, for I think I could haveswung suddenly around on him and got his gun awayfrom him, while Edwards cut our cords with the knifewhich was in my little package. I think he knew thatwe could do this, and that is why he was so frightened.

But there was one big reason which caused us towalk quietly and peaceably forward to take our punishment, and that was the river Ems, with its cruel sweepof icy water and its guarded bridges. We knew it wasimpossible to cross it at this season of the year, so theguard was safe. We would not resist him, but alreadywe were planning our next escape when the flood hadsubsided and the summer had come to warm the water.

He had a malicious spirit, this guard, and when wecame to Vehnemoor and were put in our cells, he wantedour overcoats taken from us, although the cells wereas cold as outside. The Sergeant of the guard objectedto this, and said we were not being punished, but onlyheld here, and therefore we should not be deprived ofour coats. Several times that night, when we stampedup and down to keep from freezing, I thought of theguard and his desire that our coats should be takenfrom us, and I wondered what sort of training or education could produce as mean a spirit as that! Surely, Ithought, he must have been cruelly treated, to be sohard of heart – or probably he knew that the way ofpromotion in the German army is to show no softnessof spirit.

But the morning came at last, and we were takenbefore the Commandant, and wondered what he wouldhave to say to us. We were pretty sure that we hadnot "retained his friendship."

He did not say much to us when we were usheredinto his little office and stood before his desk. Hespoke, as before, through an interpreter. He lookedthin and worried, and, as usual, the questions were putto us – "Why did we want to leave?" "What reason

Friedrichsfeld Prison-Camp in Winter

had we? Was it the food, or was it because we had towork?"

We said it was not for either of these; we wantedto regain our freedom; we were free men, and did notwant to be held in an enemy country; besides, we wereneeded!

We could see the Commandant had no interest inour patriotic emotions. He merely wanted to wash hishands of us, and when we said it was not on account ofthe poor food, or having to work, I think he breathedeasier. Would we sign a paper – he asked us then – to show this? And we said we would. So the paper wasproduced and we signed it, after the interpreter hadread and explained it to us.

In the cells the food was just the same as we hadhad before, in the regular prison-camp. They seemed tohave an inexhaustible supply of that soup. We wondered if there was a flowing well of it somewhere in thebog. The food was no worse, but sometimes the guardsforgot us. The whole camp seemed to be running atloose ends, and sometimes the guards did not come nearus for half a day, but we were not so badly off as theythought, for we got in things from our friends.

On the first morning, when we were taken to thelavatory, we saw some of the boys. They were verysorry to know we had been caught, and told us Bromleyhad been sent to Oldenburg a few days before, for hispunishment. They also told us that the night we escaped, no alarm had been given, although the guardsmay have noticed the hanging wires. Several of theboys had had the notion to go when they saw the wiresdown, but they were afraid of being caught. The general opinion was that the guards knew we had gone,but did not give the alarm until morning, because theyhad no desire to cross the bog at night.

Our method of getting stuff to the cell was simple.I wore my own overcoat to the lavatory, and hung itup inside. When I went to get it, I found another coatwas hanging beside it, which I put on and wore backto the cell. In the pocket of the "other coat" I foundthings – bread, cheese, sardines, biscuits, and books.The next day I wore the other coat, and got my own,and found its pockets equally well supplied. It was afellow called Iguellden, whose coat I had on alternatedays. He watched for me, and timed his visit to thelavatory to suit me. Of course, the other boys helpedhim with the contributions. Edwards was equallywell supplied. In the prison-camp the word "friend"has an active and positive quality in it which it sometimes lacks in normal times.

On the second night in the cell I suffered from thecold, for it was a very frosty night, and as the cells werenot heated at all, they were quite as cold as outside.

I was stamping up and down, with my overcoat buttoned up to the neck and my hands in my pockets, trying to keep warm, when the new guard came on at seveno'clock. He shouted something at me, which I did notunderstand, but I kept on walking. Then he poundedon the wall with the butt of his rifle, crying, "Schlafen!schlafen!"

To which I replied, "Nix schlafen!" (I can't sleep!)

I then heard the key turn in the door, and I did notknow what might be coming.

When he came in, he blew his breath in the frostyair, and asked, "Kalt?"

I did not think he needed to take my evidence – itcertainly was "kalt."

Then he muttered something which I did not understand, and went out, returning about twenty minuteslater with a blanket which he had taken from one ofthe empty beds in the Revier. I knew he was runninga grave risk in doing this, for it is a serious offense for aguard to show kindness to a prisoner, and I thanked himwarmly. He told me he would have to take it awayagain in the morning when he came on guard again, andI knew he did not want any of the other guards to seeit. My word of thanks he cut short by saying, "Bitte!bitte! Ich thue es gerne" (I do it gladly); and hismanner indicated that his only regret was that he couldnot do more.

I thought about him that night when I sat with theblanket wrapped around me, and I wondered about thisGerman soldier. He evidently belonged to the sameclass as the first German soldier I had met after I wascaptured, who tried to bandage my shoulder when theshells were falling around us; to the same class as goodold Sank at Giessen, who, though he could speak noEnglish, made us feel his kindness in a hundred ways;to the same class as the German soldier who lifted medown from the train when on my way to Roulers. Thisman was one of them, and I began to be conscious ofthat invisible brotherhood which is stronger and moreenduring than any tie of nationality, for it wipes out thedifferences of creed or race or geographical boundary,and supersedes them all, for it is a brotherhood of spirit,and bears no relation to these things.

To those who belong to it I am akin, no matter wherethey were born or what the color of their uniform!

Then I remembered how bitterly we resented theaction of a British Sergeant Major at Giessen, who hadbeen appointed by the German officer in charge to seeafter a working party of our boys. Working parties werenot popular – we had no desire to help the enemy – and one little chap, the Highland bugler from Montreal,refused to go out. The German officer was disposed tolook lightly on the boy's offense, saying he would comeall right, but the British Sergeant Major insisted thatthe lad be punished – and he was.

I thought of these things that night in the cell, andas I slept, propped up in the corner, I dreamed of thatglad day when the invisible brotherhood will bind together all the world, and men will no more go out tokill and wound and maim their fellow-men, but theirstrength will be measured against sin and ignorance,disease and poverty, and against these only will theyfight, and not against each other.

When I awakened in the morning, stiff and crampedand shivering, my dream seemed dim and vague andfar away – but it had not entirely faded.

That day the guard who brought me soup was a newone whom I had not seen before, and he told me he wasone of the twenty-five new men who had been sent downthe night we escaped. I was anxious to ask him manythings, but I knew he dared not tell me. However, hecame in and sat down beside me, and the soup that hebrought was steaming hot, and he had taken it from thebottom of the pot, where there were actual traces ofmeat and plenty of vegetables. Instead of the usualbowlful, he had brought me a full quart, and from therecesses of his coat he produced half a loaf of whitebread – "Swiss bread" we called it – and it was a greattreat for me. I found out afterwards that Ted had received the other half. The guard told me to keep hidden what I did not eat then, so I knew he was breakingthe rules in giving it to me.

He sat with his gun between his knees, muzzle upwards, and while I ate the soup he talked to me, asking me where I came from, and what I had been doingbefore the war.

When I told him I had been a carpenter, he said hewas a bridge-builder of Trieste, and he said, "I wishI was back at it; it is more to my liking to build thingsthan to destroy them."

I said I liked my old job better than this one, too,whereupon he broke out impatiently, "We're fools tofight each other. What spite have you and I at eachother?"

I told him we had no quarrel with the German people,but we knew the military despotism of Germany hadto be literally smashed to pieces before there could beany peace, and, naturally enough, the German peoplehad to suffer for having allowed such a tyrant to existin their country. We were all suffering in the process,I said.

"It's money," he said, after a pause. "It is themoney interests that work against human interestsevery time, and all the time. The big ones have theiriron heel on our necks. They lash us with the whipof starvation. They have controlled our education,our preachers, government, and everything, and thereason they brought on the war is that they wereafraid of us – we were getting too strong. In the lastelection we had nearly a majority, and the capitalistssaw we were going to get the upper hand, so to set backthe world, they brought on the war – to kill us off. Atfirst we refused to fight – some of us – but they playedup the hatred of England which they have bred in us;and they stampeded many of our people on the loveof the Fatherland. Our ranks broke; our leaders wereput in jail and some were shot; it's hard to go backon your country, too.

"But I don't believe in nationalities any more;nationalities are a curse, and as long as we have them,the ruling class will play us off, one against the other,to gain their own ends. There is only one race – thehuman race – and only two divisions of it; there arethose who represent money rights and special privileges, and those who stand for human rights. The moreyou think of it, the more you will see the whole fabricof society resolving itself into these two classes. Thewhole military system is built on the sacrifice of humanrights."

I looked at him in astonishment.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"I am just a bridge-builder," he answered, "but I'ma follower of Liebknecht... We can't do much untilthe Prussian system is defeated. There are just a fewof us here – the guard who got you the blanket is oneof us. We do what we can for the prisoners; sometimes we are caught and strafed.... There is no placefor kindness in our army," he added sadly.

"I must go now," he said; "I heard one of theguards say we were going to be moved on to anothercamp. I may not see you again, but I 'll speak to aguard I know, who will try to get the good soup for you.The Sergeant of the guard is all right, but some ofthem are devils; they are looking for promotion, andknow the way to get it is to excel in cruelty. We shallnot meet, but remember, we shall win! Germany'smilitary power will be defeated. Russia's military poweris crumbling now, the military power of the world isgoing down to defeat, but the people of all nations aregoing to win!"

We stood up and shook hands, and he went out, locking me in the cell as before.

I have thought long and often of the bridge-builderof Trieste and his vision of the victory which is comingto the world, and I, too, can see that it is coming, notby explosions and bombardments, with the shrieks ofthe wounded and the groans of the dying – not thatway will it come – but when these have passed thereshall be heard a still, small voice which will be the voiceof God, and its words shall be –

"Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself!"

CHAPTER XVII
THE CELLS AT OLDENBURG

IT was on February 3d that we were taken from Vehnemoor to Oldenburg, and when we started out on theroad along the canal, roped together as before, Ted andI knew we were going up against the real thing as faras punishment goes, for we should not have Iguelldenand the rest of the boys to send us things. We cameout of the Vehnemoor Camp with somewhat of a reluctant feeling, for we knew we were leaving kind friendsbehind us. Ted had received the same treatment thatI had in the matter of the blankets and the good soup – thanks to the friendly guard.

It was in the early morning we started, and as Vehnemoor was almost straight west of Oldenburg, we hadthe sun in our faces all the way in. It was good to beout again – and good to look at something other thanboard walls.

Our road lay along the canal which connected Vehnemoor with Oldenburg. Peat sheds, where the peat wasput to dry after it was cut, were scattered along thecanal, and we passed several flat-bottomed canal-boatscarrying the peat into Oldenburg. They were drawn byman-power, and naturally made slow progress.

The canal furnished a way of transportation for thesmall farmers living near it, too, whose little farms hadbeen reclaimed from the bog, and their produce wasbrought into Oldenburg on the canal-boats. We couldsee better-looking buildings back farther, where the landwas more fertile. At one place we saw a canal-boat withsails, but as the day was still it lay inactive, fastenedto an iron post.

The settlement seemed to be comparatively recent,judging by the small apple-trees around the buildings,and it looked as if this section of the country had allbeen waste land until the canal had been put through.

When we arrived at Oldenburg, which we did earlyin the morning, we were marched through its narrowstreets to the military prison. We could see that themodern part of the city was very well built and up todate, with fine brick buildings, but the old part, whichdates back to the eleventh century, was dirty andcheerless.

The prison to which we were taken was a militaryprison before the war, where the German soldiers werepunished, and from the very first we could see that itwas a striking example of German efficiency – in theway of punishment. Nothing was left to chance!

We were searched first, and it was done by removingall our clothing. Then, piece by piece, the guard lookedthem over. He ran his hand under the collar of ourshirts; he turned our pockets inside out; he patted thelining of our coats; he turned out our stockings andshook them; he looked into our boots. As he finishedwith each article, it was thrown over to us and wedressed again. Our caps, overcoats, braces, belts, andknives were taken away from us. They were carefulto see that we should not be tempted to commit suicide.

When I saw my cap go, I wondered if my maps, whichI had sewed in the pasteboard, would escape this man'shawk eyes. I thought I had lost my other maps, andwondered how we should ever replace them. But it wouldbe time enough to think of that – when we got out.

The guard's manner was typical of the managementat Oldenburg. It had no element of humanity in it.It was a triumph of Kultur. The men might as wellhave been dummies, set by a clock and run by electricity.

There was a blackboard on the wall which told howmany prisoners were in the institution and what theywere getting. The strongest and worst punishmentgiven is called "Streng Arrest," and the number whowere getting it was three. The guard, while we werethere, rubbed out the 3 and put in a 5.

Ted and I looked at each other.

"That's us," he said.

Our two little parcels were deposited in a lockerdownstairs, where other parcels of a like nature werebestowed, and we were conducted up a broad stairand along a passage, and saw before us a long hall, linedwith doors sheeted with steel.

The guard walked ahead; Ted and I followed. At lasthe unlocked a door, and we knew one of us had reachedhis abiding-place.

"I always did like a stateroom in the middle of theboat," Ted said, as the guard motioned to him to goin. That was the last word I heard for some time, forthe guard said not a word to me. He came into thecell with me, and shut the iron door over the window,excluding every particle of light.

I just had time to see that the cell was a good-sizedone – as cells go. In one corner there was a steamcoil, but it was stone cold, and remained so all the timeI was there. There was a shelf, on which stood a brownearthen pitcher for drinking-water – but nothing else.Our footsteps rang hollow on the cement floor, whichhad a damp feeling, like a cellar, although it was abovethe ground floor.

Without a word the guard went out, and the keyturned in the lock with a click which had a sound offinality about it that left no room for argument.

Well, it has come, I thought to myself – the realhard German punishment... they had me at last.The other time we had outwitted them and gainedmany privileges of which they knew nothing, andMalvoisin had cheered me through the dark hours.

Here there was no Malvoisin, no reading-crack, nofriends, nothing to save us.

They had us!

We had staked the little bit of freedom we had on thechance of getting full freedom. It was a long chance,but we had taken it – and lost!

I knew the object of all their punishment was tobreak our wills and make us docile, pliable, and week-kneed like the Russians we had seen in the camps – poor, spiritless fellows who could give no trouble.

Well – we would show them they could not breakours!

The eight-mile walk had tired me, and I lay downon the platform to try to sleep, but it was a long timebefore I could close my eyes: the darkness was so heavy,so choking and horrible. If there had been even onegleam of light it would n't have been so bad, but Icould n't even see a gleam under the door, and everytime I tried to sleep the silence bothered me – if Icould only hear one sound, to tell me some one wasalive and stirring about! Still, I kept telling myself,I must put it in, some way – I must – I must – Imust.

When I awakened, my first thought was that it wasstill night! Then I remembered it was all night for me,and the thought set me shivering. My hands were stiffand cold, and I missed my overcoat.

The waking-up was the worst time of all, for myteeth chattered and my knees trembled, so it was hardto stand. But when I had stamped up and down for awhile, I felt better. It must be near morning, I thought.I should know when it was morning, because the guardwould come and let me have ten minutes to sweep mycell, and then I should see Ted. I should perhaps geta chance to speak to him – even a wink would help!

It was a larger cell than the one at Giessen, and aftersitting still for a while I got up and walked up anddown. I could take four steps each way, by not stepping too far. My steps echoed on the cement floor,and I quite enjoyed seeing how much noise I couldmake, and wondered if anybody heard me. But whenI stopped and leaned up against the wall, I could hearnothing. Then I sat down again and waited.

I remembered how, after the cells, the Strafe-Barrack did not seem too bad, for we could see people and talk occasionally; and after the Strafe-Barrackthe prison-camp was comparative freedom, for we couldget our parcels and read, and see the boys, so Ithought I will pretend now that my punishmentwas sitting still.... I can't move a muscle; the cut-throat guard that was over us in the Strafe-Barrackis standing over me with his bayonet against my chest – I must not move – or he'll drive it in.... I wishI could change my position – my neck is cramped....

Then I jumped up and walked up and down, andtried to tell myself it was good to be able to move!But I caught myself listening all the time – listeningfor the guard to come and open the door!

It seemed a whole day since we came, and still therewas no sound at the door. The guard must have forgotten us, I thought.... The guards at Vehnemoorforgot to bring us soup sometimes.... These mechanical toys may have run down; the power may havegone off, and the whole works have shut down.Certainly the lights seem to have gone out. I laughedat that. Well, I would try to sleep again; that was thebest way to get the time in.

I tried to keep myself thinking normally, but thethought would come pushing in upon me, like a ghostlyface at a window, that the guard had forgotten us. Itold myself over and over again that we had come inat noon, and this was the first day; it was bound tobe long, I must wait! They – had – not – forgottenus.

I knew exactly what I should look like when theyfound me. My hair would be long, falling over myshoulders, and my beard – not red, but white – wouldbe down to my waist, – for people live for weeks onwater, and my nails would be so long they wouldturn back again... and my hands would be like claws,with the white bones showing through the skin, andthe knuckles knotted and bruised. I remembered seeinga cat once that had been forgotten in a cellar... Ithad worn its claws off, scratching at the wall.

Then a chill seized me, and I began to shiver. Thatfrightened me, so I made a bargain with myself – Imust not think, I must walk. Thinking is what sendspeople crazy.

I got up then and began to pace up and down.Twelve feet each way was twenty-four feet. Therewere five thousand two hundred and eighty feet in amile – so I would walk a mile before I stopped – I would walk a mile, and I would not think!

I started off on my mile walk, and held myself to itby force of will, one hundred and ten rounds. OnceI lost the count and had to go back to where I didremember, and so it was really more than a mile. Butwhen it was done, and I sat down, beyond a littlehealthy tingling in my legs I did not feel at all different. I was listening – listening just the same.

Ted and I had agreed that if we were side by side,we would pound on the wall as a sign. Four knockswould mean "I – am – all – right." I pounded thewall four times, and listened. There was no response.

Then, for a minute, the horror seized me – Ted wasdead – every one was dead – I was the only one left!

If the authorities in our prisons could once feel thehorror of the dark cell when the overwrought nervesbring in the distorted messages, and the whole bodywrithes in the grip of fear, – choking, unreasoning,panicky fear, – they would abolish it forever.

After an eternity, it seemed, the key sounded in thelock and the guard came in, letting in a burst of lightwhich made me blink. He came over to the window,swung open the iron door, and the cell was light!

"What time is it?" I asked him in German.

He knew his business – this guard. He answerednot a word. What has a prisoner to do with time – except "do" it. He handed me a broom – like a stablebroom – and motioned me to sweep. It was done alltoo soon.

He then took me with him along the hall to the lavatory. At the far end of the hall and coming from thelavatory, another prisoner was being brought back witha guard behind him. His clothes hung loose on him,and he walked slowly. The light came from the end ofthe hall facing me, and I could not see very well.

When we drew near, a cry broke from him –

"Sim!" he cried. "Good God!... I thought youwere in Holland."

It was Bromley!

Then the guard poked him in the back and sent himstumbling past me. I turned and called to him, butmy guard pushed me on.

I put in as much time washing as I could, hoping thatTed would be brought out, but I did not see him thatday or the next.

At last I had to go back, and as the guard shovedme in again to that infernal hole of blackness, he gaveme a slice of bread. I had filled my pitcher at the tap.

This was my daily ration the first three days. I washungry, but I was not sick, for I had considerablereserve to call upon, but when the fourth day came Iwas beginning to feel the weariness which is not exactlya pain, but is worse than any pain. I did not want towalk – it tired me, and my limbs ached as if I hadla grippe. I soon learned to make my bread last aslong as it would, by eating it in instalments, and itrequired some will-power to do this.

Thoughts of food came to torture me – when I slept,my dreams were all of eating. I was home again, andmother was frying doughnuts.... Then I was at theHarvest-Home Festival in the church, and downstairsin the basem*nt there were long tables set. The coldturkey was heaped up on the plates, with potatoes andcorn on the cob; there were rows of lemon pies, withchocolate cakes and strawberry tarts. I could hear thedishes rattling and smell the coffee! I sat down beforea plate of turkey, and was eating a leg, all brown andjuicy – when I awakened.

There is a sense in which hunger sharpens a man'sperceptions, and makes him see the truth in a clearerlight – but starvation, the slow, gnawing starvation,when the reserve is gone, and every organ, every muscle,every nerve cries out for food – it is of the devil. Thestarving man is a brute, with no more moral sense thanthe gutter cat. His mind follows the same track – he wants food...

Why do our authorities think they can reform a manby throwing him into a dark cell and starving him?

There was a hole in the door, wide on the inside andjust big enough on the outside for an eye, where theguards could spy on us. We could not get a gleam oflight through it, though, for it was covered with abutton on the outside.

On the fourth day I had light in my cell, and it wasaired. Also, I got soup that day, and more bread, andI felt better. I saw Ted for a few seconds. He wasvery pale, but bearing it well. Though the sunburnwas still on his face, the pallor below made it ghastly;but he walked as straight as ever.

I climbed up to the window, by standing on theplatform, and could just see over. Down below in thecourtyard soldiers were gathering for roll-call, andonce I saw recruits getting their issue of uniforms....Sometimes the courtyard was empty, but I kept onwatching until the soldiers came. At least they weresomething – and alive! During the light day, probably as a result of the additional food, I slept nearlyall day.

When I awakened, the cell was getting dark. I haveheard people say the sunset is a lonely time, when fearscome out, and apprehensions creep over them... andall their troubles come trooping home. I wonder whatthey would think of a sunset which ushered in eighty-four hours of darkness!... I watched the light fadingon the wall, a flickering, sickly glow that paled andfaded and died, and left my eyes, weakened now by thelong darkness, quite misty and dim.

And then the night, the long night came down,without mercy.

On one of my light days the guard forgot to bringmy soup. He brought the coffee in the morning, andwent out again at once. I thought he had gone for thebread, but when he did not come, I drank the coffee – which was hot and comforting. He did not come nearme all day. It may have been the expectation of food,together with the hot coffee, which stimulated mystomach, for that day I experienced what starving mendread most of all – the hunger-pain. It is like a famished rat that gnaws and tears. I writhed on the floorand cried aloud in my agony, while the cold sweatdripped from my face and hands. I do not rememberwhat I said... I do not want to remember...

That night when I saw the light growing dim in thecell, and the long black night setting in, I began to thinkthat there was a grave possibility that this sentencemight finish me. I might die under it! And my peoplewould never know – "Died – Prisoner of War No.23445, Pte. M. C. Simmons" – that is all they wouldsee in the casualty list, and it would not cause a rippleof excitement here. The guard would go back foranother one, and a stretcher... I should n't be muchof a carry, either!

Then I stood up and shook my fist at the door,including the whole German nation! I was not goingto die!

Having settled the question, I lay down and slept.

When I awakened, I knew I had slept a long time.My tongue was parched and dry, and my throat felthorribly, but my pain was gone. I was n't hungry now – I was just tired.

Then I roused myself. "This is starvation," I whispered to myself; "this is the way men die – andthat's what – I am not going to do!"

The sound of my own voice gave me courage. I thencompelled my muscles to do their work, and stood upand walked up and down, though I noticed the wallgot in my road sometimes. I had a long way to go yet,and I knew it depended now on my will-power.

My beard was long and my hair tangled and unkempt. I should have liked a shave and a hair-cut,but this is part of the punishment and has a depressingeffect on the prisoner. It all helps to break a mandown.

I kept track of the days by marking on the wall eachday with my finger-nail, and so I knew when the twoweeks were drawing to a close. The expectation ofgetting out began to cheer me – and the last nightI was not able to sleep much, for I thought when thekey turned next time I should be free! I wondered ifwe could by any chance hear what had happened onthe battle-front. Right away I began to feel that I waspart of the world again – and a sort of exultation cameto me...

They – had – not – broken me!

CHAPTER XVIII
PARNEWINKEL CAMP

THE key turned at last!

Entering, the guard, with face as impassive as ever,motioned to me to sweep out. I wondered if I couldhave mistaken the number of days, or if... we weregoing to get longer than the two weeks.

He did not enlighten me! I was taken out to wash,and filled my brown pitcher at the tap – just as usual.Then came the moment of tense anxiety.... Wouldhe lock me in?

He gave me the usual allowance of bread, which Iput in my pocket, as a man who was going on a journeyand wants to be on his way, without waiting to eat.

Then he motioned to me to come out, and I knew wewere free!Ted was at the door of his cell, and we followed theguard downstairs without speaking.

In the room below our things were given back to us.I dared not examine my cap to see if my maps had beentouched, but I could not keep from turning it aroundas if to be sure it was mine. Certainly it looked allright. Our two little parcels, still unopened, were returned to us, and the guard from Vehnemoor who hadcome for us had brought one of the prisoners with him

Map which Private Simmons got from the Canadian Artist at Giessen, and which was sewed inside the Pasteboard of his Cap
His successful journey from Selsingen to Holland is indicated by the dotted line ............
The unsuccessful attempt is shown ---------- from Oldenburg

to carry our stuff that had been left there, blankets,wash-basin, clogs, etc.

From the prisoner we got the news of the camp.

"How are the folks at home?" we asked him.

"Ninety of the worst ones – since you two fellowsand Bromley left – were taken to another camp, andwhen they were moving them McKinnon and anotherfellow beat it – but we're afraid they were caught."

"Why?" we asked him.

"They catch them all; nobody gets out of Germanyalive."

"You talk like a guard!" Ted said.

"Well," said the boy (I am sorry I forget his name),"look here. Who do you know that has got away? Youdid n't; Bromley did n't; the two Frenchmen who wentthe night before you went did n't. Do you hear of anywho did?"

"Keep your ear to the ground and you will!" saidTed.

"They'll shoot you the next time," he said earnestly."If I were you, I would n't try it."

Then the guard came, and we could say no more.

Again we were taken to the station and put on thetrain. Our hands were not tied this time; we were justordinary prisoners now – we had done ours. Besides,I suppose they knew we should n't run far – that hadbeen taken out of us by the "cells."

But our good spirits came back when the trainstarted. We went east towards Rotenburg, through thesame sort of low, marshy country we had travelledbefore, with scrubby trees and plenty of heather moor.

We passed through Bremen again, where we got aglimpse of white sails, and then on to Rotenburg, wherewe changed cars and had to wait for two hours.

Of course we were hungry – the Oldenburg prisonhad not sent us out well fed to meet the world, and theone slice of bread had gone. But we had prison-stamps,and our guard took us to the lunch-counter at Rotenburg, where we got a cup of real coffee, some bread, andan orange. The guard paid for what we got with hisown money, accepting our stamps in payment. Ourstamps were good only at Vehnemoor Camp, havingthe name "Vehnemoor" stamped on them.

I suppose we were two tough-looking characters.The people seemed to think so, for they looked at uswith startled faces, and a little girl who was crossingthe platform ran back in alarm to her mother whenshe saw us coming.

We arrived at Dienstedt after nightfall, and walkedout a mile along a rough road to the camp, which wasone of the Cellelager group – Cellelager I.

We saw that it consisted of two huts, and when weentered the hut to which we were taken, we saw nothingbut Russians, pale-faced, dark-eyed, bearded Russians.They were sitting around, hardly speaking to eachother, some mending their clothes, some reading, somestaring idly ahead of them. We were beginning to beafraid they had sent us to a camp where there was noone but Russians, until we saw some British, at theother end.

"By Jove, I'll bet you're hungry," a big fellow said,reaching up into his bunk and bringing out a pasteboard parcel. "Here you are, matey; there's a bit ofcheese and biscuits. I've a bit of water heatin', too;we'll get you something to drink. Get something intoyou; we ain't bad done for 'ere with our parcels comin'reglar."

The other men brought out boxes, too, – currant-loaf, sardines, fruit-cake, and chocolate. There werethree coal-stoves in the room, and on one of these apan of water was steaming. They had condensed milkand cocoa, and made us up mugs of it, and I never,anywhere, tasted anything so good.

There were two tiers of bunks in the room, but aroundthe wall there was an open space where there weresome little tables. Two of the Englishmen, who wereplaying cards, put them away and offered us theirtable.

"Here, boys, be comfortable; sit right down hereand let us see you eat."

We let them see us! We ate like wolf-hounds.We ate, not until we were satisfied, but until we wereashamed! And still the invitations to eat were heardon every side. We were welcome to the last crumbthey had!

When at last we stopped, they began to tell us aboutthe camp. It seemed that the distinguishing feature waslice! It had never been fumigated, and the conditionwas indescribable. "We're bad enough," one of theEnglishmen said, "but the Russians are in holes."

Then they told us what they had done to attractthe attention of the authorities. The branch camps arenever inspected or visited, as are the main camps suchas Cellelager itself and Giessen, and so conditions inthe out-of-the-way camps have been allowed to sinkfar below the level of these.

"We each wrote a card to some one in England,telling them about the lice. We would have stretchedit – if we could – but we could n't. We drew pictures,and told what these lice could do; especially we toldabout the Russians, and how bad they were. Thereare twenty-one of us, and there went out twenty-onecards all dealing with the same subject. The censorbegan to feel crawly, I'll bet, before he got far intoreading them, and he would not let one of those cardsout of Germany. It would n't have sounded very goodto the neutral countries. So along came one of thehead officers. He came in swaggering, but, by George,he went out scratching! And he certainly got somethingmoving. We 're all going down to Cellelager to-morrowto be fumigated; and while we're out, there's goingto be a real old-fashioned house-cleaning! You're justin time, boys. Have you got any?"

"We did not have any," we said, "when we came."

"Well, you'll get them here, just sitting around.They're all over the floor and crawl up the leg of yourchair; they crawl up the wall and across the ceilingand drop down on your head and down the back ofyour collar; they're in the walls and in the bedsnow. But their days are numbered, for we are allgoing up to Cellelager to-morrow to be fumigated.They're running a special train, and taking us all."

That night Ted and I slept on two benches in themiddle of the room, but we found that what the boyssaid was true. They had crawled up on us, or else hadfallen from the ceiling, or both. We had them!

But the next day we made the trip to Cellelager byspecial train – "The Louse Train" it was called.

The fumigator was the same as at Giessen, and itdid its work well. While the clothes were baking, westood in a well-heated room to wait for them. TheBritish and French, having received parcels, were ingood condition, but the Russians, who had to dependentirely on the prison-fare, were a pitiful sight. Theylooked, when undressed, like the India famine victims,with their washboard ribs and protruding stomachs,dull eyes and parched skin. The sores caused by thelice were deep and raw, and that these conditions,together with the bad water and bad food, had hadfatal results, could be seen in the Russian cemeteryat Cellelager I, where the white Russian crosses stand,row on row. The treatment of Russian prisoners will bea hard thing for Germany to explain to the nationswhen the war is over.

Parnewinkel was the name of the village near Cellelager I, and this name was printed on the prison-stamps which we used. The camp was built on abetter place than the last one, and it was well drained,but the water was bad and unfit to drink unless boiled.

As the spring came on, many of the Russians wentout to work with the farmers, and working parties,mostly made up of Russians, were sent out each day.Their work was to dig ditches through the marshes,to reclaim the land. To these working parties soupwas sent out in the middle of the day, and I, wishingto gain a knowledge of the country, volunteered for"Suppentragen."

A large pot, constructed to hold the heat by havinga smaller one inside which held the soup, was carriedby two of us, with a stick through the handle, to theplace where the Russians were working, and whilethey were attending to the soup, we looked around andlearned what we could of the country. I saw a methodof smoking meat which was new to me, at a farmhouse near where the Russians were making a road.Edwards and I, with some others, had carried outthe soup. The Russians usually ate their soup in thecow-stable part of the house, but the British and Canadians went right into the kitchen. In this house everything was under one roof – that is, cows, chickens,kitchen, and living-room – and from the roof of thekitchen the hams were hung. The kitchen stove hadtwo or three lengths of pipe, just enough to start thesmoke in the right direction, but not enough to leadit out of the house. Up among the beams it woundand curled and twisted, wrapping the hams round andround, and then found its way out in the best way itcould. Of course some of it wandered down to thekitchen where the women worked, and I suppose itbothered them, but women are the suffering sex inGermany; a little smoke in their eyes is not here orthere.

The houses we saw had thatched roofs, with plasteredwalls, and I think in every case the cow-stable wasattached. Dairying was the chief industry; that andthe raising of pigs, for the land is poor and marshy.Still, if the war lasts long enough, the bad lands ofGermany will be largely reclaimed by the labor ofRussian prisoners. It's cheap and plentiful. Therewere ninety thousand of them bagged in one battle inthe early days of the war, at the Mazurian Lakes! TheRussians are for the most part simple, honest fellows,very sad and plaintive, and deserving of better treatment than they have had.

When the Russians had gone out to work, leavingonly the sick ones, and the English and French, sometimes there were not enough well prisoners for "Suppentragen," for the British were clever in the matter offeigning sickness. The Revier was in charge of a doctorand a medical Sergeant, who gave exemption from workvery easily. Then there were ways of getting sickwhich were confusing to doctors.

Some one found out how to raise a swelling, and there was quite an epidemic of swollen wrists andankles. A little lump of earth in a handkerchief,pounded gently on the place, for twenty minutes orso, will bring the desired result. Soap-pills will raisethe temperature. Tobacco, eaten, will derange theheart. These are well-known methods of achievingsick-leave.

I had a way all my own. I had a loose toe-nail, quiteready to come off, but I noticed it in time, and tookgreat care not to let it come off. Then I went to thedoctor to have it removed. On that I got exemptiontill the nail grew.

One day at Parnewinkel, Edwards and I were calledinto the Commandant's office, whither we went withmany misgivings – we did not know how much he knewof us and our plans.

But the honest man only wanted to pay us. Edwardshad worked quite a bit at Vehnemoor, but I could n'tremember that I had worked at all. However, he insisted that I had one and a half days to my credit, andpaid me twenty-seven pfennigs, or six and three quartercents! I remembered then that I had volunteered forwork on the bog, for the purpose of seeing what thecountry was like around the camp. I signed a receiptfor the amount he gave me, and the transaction wasentered in a book, and the receipt went back to thehead camp.

"Look at that," said Ted; "they starve us, but ifwe work they will pay us, even taking considerablepains to thrust our wages upon us. Of a truth they area 'spotty' people."

However, the reason for paying us for our work wasnot so much their desire to give the laborer his hire asthat the receipts might be shown to visitors, and appearin their records.

The Russians had a crucifix at the end of the hutwhich they occupied, and a picture of the Virgin andthe Holy Child before which they bowed and crossedthemselves in their evening devotions. Not all of themtook part. There were some unbelieving brothers whosat morosely back, and took no notice, wrapped intheir own sad thoughts. I wondered what they thoughtof it all! The others humbly knelt and prayed and criedout their sorrows before the crucifix. Their hymns wereweird and plaintive, yet full of a heroic hope that Godhad not forgotten.

One of them told me that God bottles up the tearsof his saints, hears their cry, and in His own good timewill deliver all who trust in Him. That deliverance hasalready come to many of them the white-crossed graves,beyond the marsh, can prove. But surely, somewherean account is being kept of their sorrows and theirwrongs, and some day will come the reckoning! Germany deserves the contempt of all nations, if it werefor nothing else than her treatment of the Russianprisoners.

When my toe-nail began to grow on, I got permanentexemption from work because of my shoulder, and wasgiven the light task of keeping clear the ditches thatran close beside the huts.

I often volunteered on parcel parties, for I liked themile and a half walk down the road through the villageof Parnewinkel to Selsingen, where there was a railwaystation and post-office. Once in a while I saw Germanwomen sending parcels to soldiers at the front.

The road lay through low-lying land, with scrubbytrees. There was little to see, but it was a pleasure toget out of the camp with its depressing atmosphere.In Parnewinkel there was an implement dealer whosold "Deering" machinery, mowers and rakes, andyet I never saw either a mower or a rake working.I saw women cutting hay with scythes, and rememberwell, on one trip to the post-office, I saw an old woman, bare-legged, with wooden clogs, who should havebeen sitting in a rocking-chair, swinging her scythethrough some hay, and she was doing it well, too. Thescarcity of horses probably accounted for the mowersand rakes not being used, cows being somewhat tooslow in their gait to give good results. AlthoughHanover is noted for its horses, the needs of the armyseem to have depleted the country, and I saw very few.Every one rides a bicycle. I think I saw less than adozen automobiles.

Having been exempted from work, I was around thecamp all day, and one day found a four-legged affairwith a ring on the top big enough to hold a wash-basin.In this I saw a possibility of making a stove. Below,I put a piece of tin – part of a parcel-box – to holdthe fire, with a couple of bricks under it to save thefloor, and then, using the wooden parcel-boxes for fuel,I was ready to look about for ingredients to make"mulligan."

There is nothing narrow or binding about the word"mulligan"; mulligan can be made of anything. It alldepended on what we had! On this stove I made somevery acceptable mulligan out of young turnip-tops(they had been brought to the camp when very smallseedlings, from a farmer's field where one of our boyshad been working, and transplanted in the prison-yard, – I only used the outside leaves, and let themgo on growing), potatoes (stolen from the guards'garden), oxo cubes (sent in a parcel), oyster biscuits(also sent in a parcel), salt and pepper, and water. Theturnip-tops I put in the bottom of the dish, thenlaid on the potatoes, covering with water and addingsalt. I then covered this with another wash-basin, andstarted my fire. We were not allowed to have fires,and this gave the mulligan all the charm of the forbidden.

When it was cooked, I added the oxo cubes and theoyster biscuit, and mashed all together with part of thelid of a box, and the mulligan was ready. The boyswere not critical, and I believe I could get from any oneof them a recommendation for a cook's position. Inthe winter we had had no trouble about a fire, for thestoves were going, and we made our mulligan and boiledwater for tea on them.

Our guards were ordinary soldiers – sometimesthose who had been wounded or were sick and were nowconvalescent – and we had all sorts. Usually theN.C.O.'s were the more severe. The privates did notbother much about us: they had troubles enough oftheir own.

At the school garden, where the Commandant lived,I went to work one day, and made the acquaintanceof his little son, a blue-eyed cherub of four or fiveyears, who addressed me as "Englisches Schwein,"which was, I suppose, the way he had heard his fatherspeak of us. He did it quite without malice, though,and no doubt thought that was our proper name. Hemust have thought the "Schwein" family rather alarge one!

It was about May, I think, that a letter came from mybrother Flint, telling me he was sending me some ofthe "cream cheese I was so fond of" – and I knewmy compass was on the way.

In about three weeks the parcel came, and I wascareful to open the cheese when alone. The lead foilhad every appearance of being undisturbed, but in themiddle of it I found the compass!

After that we talked over our plans for escape.Edwards and I were the only Canadians in the camp,and we were determined to make a break as soon asthe nights got longer. In the early summer, when thedaylight lasts so long, we knew we should have nochance, for there were only four or five hours of darkness, but in August we hoped to "start for home."

CHAPTER XIX
THE BLACKEST CHAPTER OF ALL

WHEN the days were at their longest, some of theRussians who had been working for the farmers cameinto camp, refusing to go back because the farmersmade them work such long hours. There is daylight-saving in Germany, which made the rising one hourearlier, and the other end of the day was always the"dark." This made about a seventeen-hour day, andthe Russians rebelled against it. The farmers paidso much a day (about twenty-five cents) and then gotall the work out of the prisoners they could; and someof them were worked unmercifully hard, and badlytreated.

Each night, a few Russians, footsore, weary, andheavy-eyed from lack of sleep, trailed into camp withsullen faces, and we were afraid there was going tobe trouble.

On the night of July 3d, three tired Russians cameinto camp from the farms they had been working onafter we had had our supper. The N.C.O. was waitingfor them. The trouble had evidently been reported toHeadquarters, and the orders had come back. TheCommandant was there, to see that the orders werecarried out.

In a few minutes the N.C.O. started the Russians torun up and down the space in front of the huts. Wewatched the performance in amazement. The men ran,with dragging footsteps, tired with their long trampand their long day's work, but when their speed slackened, the N.C.O. threatened them with his bayonet.

For an hour they ran with never a minute's breathing-spell, sweating, puffing, lurching in their gait, andstill the merciless order was "Marsch!" "Marsch!"and the three men went struggling on.

When the darkness came, they were allowed to stop,but they were so exhausted they had to be helped tobed by their friends.

We did not realize that we had been witnessing thefirst act in the most brutal punishment that a humanmind could devise, and, thinking that the trouble wasover, we went to sleep, indignant at what we had seen.

In the morning, before any of us were awake, andabout a quarter of an hour before the time to get up, acommotion started in our hut. German soldiers, dozensof them, came in, shouting to everybody to get up, anddragging the Russians out of bed. I was sleeping in anupper berth, but the first shout awakened me, andwhen I looked down I could see the soldiers flourishingtheir bayonets and threatening everybody. The Russians were scurrying out like scared rabbits, but theBritish, not so easily intimidated, were asking, "What'sthe row?"

One of the British, Walter Hurcum, was struck by abayonet in the face, cutting a deep gash across hischeek and the lower part of his ear. Tom Morgandodged a bayonet thrust by jumping behind the stove,and escaped without injury.

When I looked down, I caught the eyes of one of ourguards, a decent old chap, of much the same type asSank, and his eyes were full of misery and humiliation, but he was powerless to prevent the outbreak offrightfulness.

I dressed myself in my berth – the space below wastoo full already, and I thought I could face it betterwith my clothes on. When I got down, the hut wasnearly empty, but a Gordon Highlander who went outof the door a few feet ahead of me was slashed at byone of the N.C.O.'s and jumped out of the way justin time.

All this was preliminary to roll-call, when we wereall lined up to answer to our names. That morningthe soup had lost what small resemblance it had hadto soup – it had no more nourishment in it than dishwater. We began then to see that they were going tostarve every one into a desire to work.

We had not been taking soup in the morning, for itwas, even at its best, a horrible dish to begin the daywith. We had made tea or coffee of our own, and eatensomething from our parcels. But this morning we werelined up with the Russians and given soup – whetherwe wanted it or not.

After the soup, the working parties were despatched,and then the three unhappy Russians were started ontheir endless journey again, racing up and down, upand down, with an N.C.O. standing in the middle tokeep them going. They looked pale and worn from theirhard experience of the night before, but no Bengaltiger ever had less mercy than the N.C.O., who keptthem running.

The distance across the end of the yard was aboutseventy-five feet, and up and down the Russians ran.Their pace was a fast trot, but before long they wereshowing signs of great fatigue. They looked pitifully atus as they passed us, wondering what it was all about,and so did we. We expected every minute it would beover; surely they had been punished enough. But thecruel race went on.

In an hour they were begging for mercy, whimpering pitifully, as they gasped out the only German wordthey knew – "Kamerad – Kamerad" – to the N.C.O.,who drove them on. They begged and prayed in theirown language; a thrust of the bayonet was all the answer they got.

Their heads rolled, their tongues protruded, theirlips frothed, their eyes were red and scalded – and onefell prostrate at the feet of the N.C.O., who, stoopingover, rolled back his eyelid to see if he were reallyunconscious or was feigning it. His examination provedthe latter to be the case, and I saw the Commandantmotion to him to kick the Russian to his feet. Thishe did with right good will, and the weary race went on.

But the Russian's race was nearly ended, for in another half-dozen rounds he fell, shuddering and moaning, to the ground – and no kick or bayonet thrustcould rouse him...

Another one rolled over and over in a fit, purple inthe face, and twitching horribly. He rolled over andover until he fell into the drain, and lay there, unattended.

The last one, a very wiry fellow, kept going long afterthe other two, his strength a curse to him now, for itprolonged his agony, but he fell out at last, and escapedtheir cruelty, at least for the time, through the blackdoor of unconsciousness.

Then they were gathered up by some of the prisoners,and carried into the Revier.

Just as the three unconscious ones were carried away,three other Russians, not knowing what was in store forthem, came in. We did not see them until they walkedin at the gate. They also had been on farms, and werenow refusing to work longer. They came into the hut,where their frightened countrymen were huddled together, some praying and some in tears. The newcomers did not know what had happened. But theywere not left long in doubt. An N.C.O. called to themto "heraus," and when they came into the yard, hestarted them to run. The men were tired and hungry.They had already spent months on the farms, workinglong hours: that did not save them. They had daredto rebel, so their spirits must be broken.

Our hearts were torn with rage and pity. We stormedin and out of the huts like crazy men, but there wasnothing we could do. There were so few of us, and ofcourse we were unarmed. There was no protest orentreaty we could make that would have made anyappeal. Orders were orders! It was for the good ofGermany – to make her a greater nation – that thesem*n should work – the longer hours the better – tohelp to reclaim the bad land, to cultivate the fields,to raise more crops to feed more soldiers to take moreprisoners to cultivate more land to raise more crops.

It was perfectly clear to the Teutonic mind. Nolink in the chain must be broken. Deutschland überAlles!

At noon the Russians were still running – it is astonishing what the human machine can stand! TheN.C.O. impatiently snapped his watch and slashed atthe one who was passing him, to speed them up, andso hasten the process. He was getting hungry andwanted his dinner. Then an order came from theCommandant that it was to be stopped – and wehoped again, as we had the night before, that this wasthe end.

We brought the three poor fellows, pale and trembling,to our end of the hut, and gave them as good a meal asour parcels would afford. One of them had a bayonetwound in his neck, which the N.C.O. had given him.He had jabbed him with the point of his bayonet, toquicken his speed. In spite of their exhaustion, they ate ravenously, and fell asleep at once, worn out withthe long hours of working as well as by the brutaltreatment they had received.

But there was no sleep for the poor victims – untilthe long, black sleep of unconsciousness rolled overthem and in mercy blotted out their misery – for theN.C.O.'s came for them and dragged them away fromus, and the sickening spectacle began again.

There were just eleven of us, British and Canadians,in the camp at this time, twelve of the British havingbeen sent away; and it happened that this was the day,July 4th, that we wrote our cards. We rememberedthat when the men had written cards about the lice ithad brought results: we had no other way of communication with the world, and although this was a verypoor one, still it was all we had. We knew our cardswould never get out of Germany; indeed, we wereafraid they would never leave the camp, but we wouldtry.

We went to the place where the cards were kept,which was in charge of a Polish Jew, who also acted asinterpreter. He had been in the Russian Army, andhad been taken prisoner in the early days of the war.There was a young Russian with him who did clericalwork in the camp. They were both in tears. The Jewwalked up and down, wringing his hands and callingupon the God of Abraham and of Isaac and of Jacob!Sometimes he put his hands over his ears... for thecries of his countrymen came through the window.

When we got our cards, we wrote about what hadhappened. Some of the cards were written to JohnBull; some to the British War-Office; some to the newspapers; some to friends in England, imploring them toappeal to the United States Government at Washington, to interfere for humanity's sake. We eased ourminds by saying, as far as we could say it on a card,what we thought of the Germans. Every card was fullof it, but the subject was hardly touched. I neverknew before the full meaning of that phrase, "Wordsare inadequate."

Words were no relief! – we wanted to kill – kill – kill.

The running of the Russians went on for days. Everyone of them who came in from the farm got it – without mercy.... Different N.C.O.'s performed the gruesome rites...

We had only one hope of quick results. The Commandant of the camp at Celle – that is the mainCellelager – had an English wife, and had, perhaps forthat reason, been deprived of his command as an Admiral of the fleet. We hoped he would hear of ourcards – or, better still, that his wife might hear.

The first indication we had that our cards had takeneffect was the change in the soup. Since the first dayof the trouble, it had been absolutely worthless. Suddenly it went back to normal – or a little better.

Suddenly, too, the running of the Russians stopped,although others of them had come in. A tremendoushouse-cleaning began – they had us scrubbing everything. The bunks were aired; the blankets hung onthe fence; the windows cleaned; the yard was polishedby much sweeping. Evidently some one was coming,and we hoped it was "the Admiral." At the sametime, the N.C.O.'s grew very polite to us, and oneof them, who had been particularly vicious with theRussians, actually bade me "good-morning" – something entirely without precedent.

Every day, I think, they expected the Admiral, butit was two weeks before he came. His visit was a relief to the Germans, but a distinct disappointment tous. Apparently, the having of an English wife doesnot change the heart of a German. It takes more thanthat. He did not forbid the running of the Russians;only the bayonet must not be used. The bayonet wasbad form – it leaves marks. Perhaps the Admiraltook this stand in order to reinstate himself again infavor with the military authorities, and anxious toshow that his English wife had not weakened him.He had the real stuff in him still – blood and iron!

The running of the Russians began again – butbehind the trees, where we could not see them...but we could hear...

There are some things it were well we could forget!

The running of the Russians ceased only when no

Friedrichsfeld Prison-Camp in Summer

more came in from the farms. Those who had been putout came out of the Revier in a day or so – some in afew hours – pale and spiritless, and were sent back towork again. They had the saddest-looking faces I eversaw – old and wistful, some of them; others, gapingand vacant; some, wild and staring. They would neverresist again – they were surely broken! And whilethese men would not do much for the "Fatherland"in the way of heavy labor, they would do very wellfor exchanges!

CHAPTER XX
ONCE AGAIN!

AS the days began to shorten, Edwards and I beganto plan our escape. We had the maps, the one he hadbought at Vehnemoor and the one I had made. We hadthe compass, which we had kept hidden in a very smallcrack in the sloping roof of the hut, and the Red Crosssuits had come, and were dark blue and quite unnoticeable except for the piece of brown cloth sewed on thesleeve. Mine had Russian buttons on it, which I hadput on to have for souvenirs – and which I have sincehad made into brooches for my sisters.

On the map which Edwards had bought at Vehnemoor, the railways were marked according to theirkind: the double-tracked, with rock ballast, wereheavily lined; single-tracked with rock ballast, wereindicated by lighter lines; single-tracked, with dirtballast, by lighter lines still. I knew, from the study ofmaps, every stream and canal and all the towns betweenus and the border. On the map which I had drawnmyself, from one I got from the Canadian artist atGiessen, I had put in all the railways and the short spurlines of which there are so many in northern Germany.

We knew that when a railway line ended withoutreaching another line, it was a good indication thatthe soil was valueless, and therefore there would be nosettlement of any account. Through such districts wewould direct our way.

We began to prepare for our flight by adopting a subdued manner, such as becomes discouraged men. Wewere dull, listless, sad, rarely speaking to each other – when a guard was present. We sat around the hut, morose and solemn, sighing often, as men who had lost hope.

But we were thinking, all the time, and getting ready.

I had a fine toffee tin, with a water-tight lid, whichhad come to me in a parcel from Mr. Robert McPherson, Aberdeen, Scotland, whose brother-in-law,Mr. Alec Smith, of Koch Siding, was a friend of mine.This can, being oval in shape, fitted nicely into mypocket, and we decided to use it for matches.

Edwards had a sun-glass, which we thought we woulduse for lighting our pipes when the sun was shining, andthus conserve our supply of matches.

Our first plan was to cut our way through the wires,as we had done at Vehnemoor, but, unfortunately,three Russians, early in the spring, did this – and afterthat no cat ever watched a mouse-hole with greaterintentness than the guards at Parnewinkel watched thewires. We saw this was hopeless!

We then thought we would volunteer for work onfarms as we had done before at Rossbach, but althoughFrench and Russians were taken, "Engländers" werenot wanted! The Englishmen in the camp not wantingto work had given themselves a bad name, hoping thatthe Russians and French would carry it on to thefarmers for whom they were working, so that theywould be afraid to employ such desperate characters.One of them had "et an ear off'n" the last man heworked for. Another one never took orders from anyone – "the last man that tried it, woke up in the middle of a long fit of sickness! – and had since died."Another one admitted he had a terrible temper, buthe had had it "from a child and could n't help it – he turned blind when he was mad, and never knewwhere he was hittin'!"

This all worked well for them, but when Ted andI wanted to get out, we were refused. "Engländers"were not wanted!

The first working party that was made up to go outand work with a guard did not give either Ted or mea chance, although we wanted to go, but four otherEnglishmen volunteered. They were not anxious tohave us go with them, for they knew we were thinkingof escaping, and when there is an escape, those who werepresent at the time have embarrassing questions askedthem and various privileges are likely to be curtailedafterwards.

On Saturday morning, at roll-call, a working partywas asked for, and Ted and I volunteered, and with aWelshman and some Frenchmen, we walked out to asmall village called Seedorf, about four miles away,where we were turned loose in a field of turnips fromwhich the weeds had not been taken out since theturnips were planted. There were about a dozen of us,and we were taken into the house at noon to be fed.The farmhouse was one of the best I had seen in thissection of the country, for the pig-pen, chickens, andcow-stable were in a separate building.

The two daughters of the house were true daughtersof Germany and did not eat the bread of idleness; thebiggest one, bare-legged and with sleeves rolled up, wasattending to the stock, without pausing for anything.She looked as strong as a man, and was absorbed inher work – not even stopping a second to look at us.The other one worked in the house at meal-times, butno doubt joined her sister afterwards.

The dinner consisted of soup, potatoes, bread, andcoffee, and the soup was a real treat, entirely differentfrom the kind we were used to. After dinner we wentback to the field and put in a fine afternoon's work.We were anxious to establish a good record before weleft there.

We had saved up a lot of things from our parcels,thinking that our manner of escape might be such thatwe could take them with us. A working party such aswe were on made it impossible to carry anything, forwe were in great danger of being searched. Wheneverthe Commandant thought of it, he ordered a search.Just as the Commandant at Giessen was keen on rings,so this one went in for searching. We were searched atunexpected times – going out to work or coming in – at meal-times or at bedtime.

The following day – Sunday – we sat around withour saddest, most dejected air, like two men in whosehearts all hope had died. We had everything ready – razor, tobacco, matches, toffee tin, toothbrush, comb,pocket-knife, watch, soap, strong safety-pins, and somestrong string. Edwards had the sun-glass, shaving-soapand brush, and other things to correspond with mine.

It was quite a grief to us to have to leave behind usall the things we had been saving from our parcels.The people of Trail, British Columbia, had sent parcelsto all their prisoners, and one of mine had followed mefrom Giessen to Vehnemoor and from Vehnemoor toParnewinkel, and at last had found me. It contained,among other things, hard-tack biscuits, just the thingfor carrying in our pockets, and my aunts in Ontariohad sent me some line dried beef and tins of jam. Atthis time, also, an exceptionally good box came fromMiss Ray, of London, England, and home-made candyfrom Miss Dorothy Taylor, of New Westminster, British Columbia. We had a regular blow-out on Sunday,but were too much afraid of being searched to risk taking anything with us beyond the necessary things, andso had to leave our precious stores behind. Oh, well – they would n't go to waste!

Monday morning we dragged our tired feet along thefour miles to the turnip-patch – with every appearanceof complete submission. I had the compass in themiddle of a package of tobacco; my maps were stillin the pay-book case in my pocket.

We gave ourselves up to the joy of labor, and pulledweeds all day with great vigor. We wanted to behaveso well that they would n't notice us. Of course wewere not sure that any chance would come. We mighthave to carry our stuff for several days before we shouldget a chance.

That night we came into the kitchen again and satdown at the long table. Every one was hungry and fellto eating without a word. No wonder the guard thoughthe had a quiet, inoffensive gang whose only thoughtat that moment was fried potatoes. The potatoes weregood, hot from the frying-pan, and we ate as many aswe could, for we believed it might be a long time beforewe again sat at a table.

The guard, at last, satisfied that we were all right,strolled into the next room – a sort of dining- andliving-room, where the family were eating. We couldhear fragments of conversation and some laughter,and it seemed a good time to slip away! We crowdeddown a few more fried potatoes, and then leisurely leftthe table and looked out of the window.

A big black cloud had come up from the west, andalthough it was still early in the evening it was beginning to grow dusk. Outside there was no one stirringbut the young lady feeding the pigs, and she was nottaking any notice of any one. She was a fine exampleof the absorbed worker. We lit our pipes and strolledout to enjoy the cool of the evening.

The pigs were gathered about the trough, protesting the distribution of their evening meal, squealing"Graft" and calling for a commission to settle it. Thelady took no notice of them. They could settle itamong themselves. They did not need to eat at all ifthey did n't want to. She should worry. It was takeit or leave it – for all she cared! She had gone as faras she was going to, in bringing it to them.

We looked back at the kitchen. Fried potatoes stillheld the attention of the prisoners, and the guard wasnot to be seen.

We turned around the front of the house and foundourselves on the shaded street. There was a row oftrees along each side of the street and the houses werebuilt well back. It was not the main street of the village and had more the appearance of a lane. We hadconcluded that even if the alarm were given, we shouldonly have the one guard to deal with, for the prisonerswould not pursue us, neither would the farmer.

The big danger was in the fact that the guard had hisgun, and if he saw us would shoot, but the shady lanewas deserted and still, and we pushed on with an unconcerned stride that covered the ground, but wouldnot attract the attention of the casual observer.

When we came to the edge of the village, we saw thewood which we had observed when coming in from workboth days, and which seemed to promise shelter, although the trees were small. We passed through itquickly, and kept it between us and the village untilwe reached a ditch two and a half or three feet deepand overgrown with heather. By this time it was beginning to rain, for which we were glad, for it woulddiscourage travelling and drive indoors those who hadany place to go to. We crawled on our hands and kneesalong the ditch, whose bottom was fairly dry andgrassy, until we found a place where the heather hungwell over the edge and made a good protection. Wecould look through the heather at the village, whichwas about six hundred yards away!

We stayed here until it was quite dark. There didnot seem to be any search made for us. The guardwould be afraid to leave the other prisoners to comelooking for us himself, and we knew none of the villagepeople would be keen on coming out in the rain. Butthere was a telegraph station at Seedorf, and it gave usan uncomfortable feeling to remember that the guardcould wire to Selsingen and get some one there to telephone to the camp. But the rain, which was fallingheavily, was our best hope that we were unpursued.It beat into my ear as I lay in the heather, until I putmy cap over the side of my head.

At dark we stole out, after taking our direction withthe compass while we were in the ditch. When we cameout, we observed the direction of the wind, and startedstraight south. We would follow this course until werounded Bremen, and then it was our purpose to gowest to the Holland boundary. From our maps we knewthat to strike straight across from where we were wouldbring us to a well-settled country, and the chief desireof our lives now was for solitude!

CHAPTER XXI
TRAVELLERS OF THE NIGHT

THE country we travelled over in the first hours of thenight was poor and evidently waste land, for we sawno cultivation until near morning, when we crossedthrough a heavy oat-field, soaking wet with the night'srain. When we came out we were as wet as if we hadfallen into the ocean. We took some of the oats withus, to nibble at as we went along.

We came to a wide stream, with wooded banks, whichlooked deep and dangerous. So we made a pack of ourclothes, and cautiously descended into it, expecting tohave to swim over. However, we found we could easilywade it, for we had made our crossing at a ford.

On the other side we found ourselves stumbling overa turnip-field, and very gladly helped ourselves, andcarried away two of them for provisions for the next day.When morning came we took cover in a thin wood.

On the other attempts we had been able to carrysomething to eat, and an extra pair of socks. This timewe had nothing but what we had on. I had selectedfrom the stockings I had a pair knit by Miss EdnaMcKay, of Vancouver, which were the first pair she hadknit, but were very fine and well made. We removed oursocks the first thing each morning, and rubbed our feetand put the socks in a tree to dry, being careful not tohave them so high they would be seen. We were tryingto take every precaution this time!

The first day we were near some farm-buildings, andas we lay in the woods, pretty chilly and wet, we couldhear the hens scolding and cackling. Cackling hensalways bring me back to the pleasant days of childhood, and I was just enjoying a real heartsome visit tothe old home at Delmer... and was chasing WillieFewster around a straw-stack... when the farmer'sdog, an interfering, vicious-looking brute, came peeringthrough the woods and gave us heart spasms, barkingat us for a few minutes. But we did not move a muscle,and, seeing that he could n't start a row with us, hewent away, muttering to himself about suspiciouscharacters being around.

A woman passed through the wood, too, going overto one of the neighbors – I think to borrow something,for she carried a plate. But she did not see us, as welay low in the scrub.

We certainly found plenty of unsettled country totravel through in the first days of our journey, for weseemed to go through one marsh after another, coveredwith coarse, long hay, which would have been cut, nodoubt, but for the soft bottoms which make it impossibleto use a mower. To drain this land would furnish morework for the Russian prisoners! In one place we suddenly stepped down a couple of feet into a bog filledwith water, but with grass on the top. We discoveredthat it was a place from which the peat had been removed, and it was the only sign of human activity thatwe saw all night.

On the evening of August 23d, when we started outafter a fairly good day in a spruce thicket, we could seethe lights of Bremen reflected in the sky. The lightsof a city, with its homes, its stores, its eating-places,its baths, should be a welcome sight to wayfaring menwho have been living on oats and turnips, but not forus, to whom a city meant only capture. So when wenoticed the rosy glow in the southern sky we steeredour course farther west, but still taking care to avoidthe city, which we intended to pass on the south andeast side.

Our troubles were many that night. A good-sizedriver got in our way and had to be crossed. There wasno bridge in sight, and we had determined to wasteno time looking for one. So we undressed on themarshy bank and made bundles of our clothes, pinningour tunics about everything with the safety-pins whichwe carried. We also used the cord around the bundles.Ted was doubtful about swimming and carrying hisclothes, so I said I would try it first, with mine. I wentdown through the coarse grass, which was harsh andprickly to my feet, and full of nettles or somethingwhich stung me at every step, and was glad to reach theopen water. The moon was in the last quarter, andclouded over, so the night was of the blackest. I madethe shore without much trouble, and threw my bundleon a grassy bank.

I called over to Ted that the going was fine, and thatI would come back for his clothes. At that, he startedin to meet me, swimming on his back and holding hisclothes with both hands, using only his feet, but whenhe got into the current, it turned him downstream. Iswam toward him as fast as I could, but by the timeI reached him he had lost the grip of his clothes, andwhen I got them they were wet through. As we werenearer to the bank from which he had started, we wentback to it, for we were both pretty well blown. However, in a few minutes we were able to strike outagain, and reached the other bank in safety. PoorTed was very cold and miserable, but put on hissoaking garments, without a word, and our journeycontinued.

This was another ditch country – ditches both wideand deep, and many of them treacherous things, fortheir sides were steep and hard to climb. The darknessmade it doubly hard, and sometimes we were prettywell frightened as we let ourselves down a greasy claybank into the muddy water. Later on we found somecorduroy bridges that the hay-makers had put over theditches.

All night we had not found anything to eat, and whenwe arrived at a wood near morning, we decided to stay,for we could see we were coming into a settlement, andthe German farmers rise early in harvest-time. So,hungry, muddy, wet, and tired, we lay down in thewood, and spent a long, uncomfortable day!

My watch stopped that day, and never went again.Edwards's watch was a better one, and although itstopped when it got wet, it went again as soon as it haddried out.

That day we had not a mouthful of anything. Butwe comforted ourselves with the thought that in thissettled country there would be cows, and unless thesefarmers sat up all night watching them, we promisedourselves a treat the next night.

At nightfall we stole out and began again to getover the distance that separated us from freedom. Thecountry was drier and more settled, but the cows, wesaw, were all in farmyards, and we were afraid to riskgoing near them. About midnight we almost stumbledover a herd of them, and one fine old whiteface aroseat our request and let us milk her. Ted stood at herhead, and spoke kind words to her and rubbed her nose,while I filled our tin again and again. She was a Holstein, I think, though we could not see if she was blackor red – it was so dark, we could only see the whitemarkings. We were sorry to leave her. She was another of the bright spots in my memory of Germany.

We crossed a railroad, a double-tracked one withrock ballast, which my map showed to be a line whichruns to Bremen, and a little later we came to the Weser.This river brought up pleasant recollections of the PiedPiper of Hamelin, who drowned the rats in the Weserby the magic of his pipe. But there was no romancein it as we came upon it in a gray and misty dawn. Itwas only another barrier to our freedom.

There were bunches of willows on the water's edge,and some fine beeches, whose leaves were slightlytinged with yellow, farther back. We selected a closebunch of willows for our hiding-place, and after spending a short time looking for a boat, we gave up thequest, and took cover.

We were feeling well, and were in a cheerful mood, – no doubt the result of our pleasant meeting with theHolstein, – and when we saw some straw in a field notfar from the willows, we went over and got two armfulsof it, and made beds for ourselves. Fresh, clean straw,when dry, makes a good bed, and no Ostermoor mattresswas ever more comfortable. We burrowed into it likemoles, and although it rained we had a good day.

Waking up in the afternoon, we decided on a generalclean-up, and, dipping water from the Weser in a rustytin pail without a handle, we washed our faces, cleanedour teeth, shaved, and combed our hair.

My socks were in fine shape, but Ted's began toshow signs of dissolution. The heels were gone, and thetoe of one was broken and going. His feet were soreand blistered, and he sat long looking at the perfidioussocks which had failed him so soon. Then he had aplan – he would make himself a pair out of the sleevesof his undershirt. To me was given the delicate task ofcutting off the sleeves with rather a dull knife, which I managed to do with some difficulty, and, with a thornfor a needle and wool from the socks for thread, a pairof socks were constructed. The thorn was too soft anddoubled back, so Ted sharpened a piece of hard wood,and with it made the holes for the yarn.

From our shelter in the willows we could see a ferry-boat carrying people across the river, and sometimespeople passed along the sandy shore quite near to us,but the willows were thick and we were not discovered.Two big freight steamers also passed by us.

That night we went cautiously down the bank lookingfor a boat. We could swim the river, but a boat wouldsuit us better, for the night was chilly and dark. Before we had gone far, we found one tied in the rushes.But the oars were locked to the bottom of the boat, andwe had to cut them loose with our pen-knives, whichtook quite awhile, for the wood was hard!

When we got across the Weser we found plenty ofcows. Some of them were fickle jades who would let usalmost touch them, and would then sniff at us in disapproval and leave us. Others would not consider ourcase for a moment. They were not going to run anydanger of giving aid and comfort to the enemy! But onegood old one with a crooked horn took pity on us, andagain we felt better.

The fields were divided by hedges, made of a closely-leaved green shrub, somewhat resembling – in theleaf – our buckthorn. It was very thick and verygreen, and we crawled into one of these on the morningof the fourth day, glad of such a good shelter. However, there was no room to move – or stand up. Thehedge being low made it necessary to lie down all day.Still, we were well satisfied with the hot milk, and sleptmost of the day.

Waking up suddenly, I heard a whistle, and, withoutmoving, could see a man's legs coming toward us.Then a dog, white with black markings, darted pasthim, and, to my horror, stood not six feet from me.We stopped breathing – we shut our eyes for fear wemight wink – we effaced ourselves – we ceased to be – I mean we wished we could.

The dog came nearer – I could hear his soft footfalls – I knew the brute was stepping high – as theydo when they see something. I knew his tail was goingstraight out behind – he was pointing!

The man walked by, whistling – but the dog stayed!

Then I heard the man call him – insisting that hecome – making remarks about his lack of sense. Itsounded like "Come here, you fool!" The dog, witha yelp of disapproval, did as he was told, but I couldhear him barking as he ran along – in a hurt tone.His professional pride had been touched!

That afternoon as we lay in the hedge, we saw acompany of school-children running toward us. I thinkit was the afternoon recess, and they came running andshouting straight for the hedge. I could only see theirfeet from where I lay, but it seemed to me that therewere a large number. They stopped in the field on theright of where we lay, and played some game – I wastoo excited to notice what it was. Sometimes it broughtthem close to the hedge, and then they ran away again.It may have been a ball-game.

We were cold and hot by turns, watching the feetthat advanced and receded, and were coming at usagain, racing this time as if to see who would reach thehedge first, when a sudden downpour of rain came on – and they ran back! We heard the voices growingfainter in the distance, and registered a vow that ifwe got out of this place alive we would not trust ina hedge again. Dogs and children seemed to be ourgreatest dangers!

When we began our journey that night, we crossed alight railway, one of those which on the map was indicated with light lines, and which, sure enough, hadonly dirt ballast. Ahead of us was another railwaytrack with lights, which we determined to leave alone.The lights of the two towns, Delmenhorst and Gunderksee, shone against the western sky, and we kept tothe south to avoid them. The going was difficult onaccount of the settlement, and we had to be watchingall the time for travellers. There were a lot of peopleout that night who might better have been at home – and in bed!

We were glad to take refuge before daylight in anextensive wood. We had a few turnips, which we ate.The day was spent as usual trying to dry our socks andget our feet in shape for the night, but the rain camedown hard, and when we started out at dusk we weresoaking wet.

We at once got into a forest, a great dark, quietforest, where fugitives could hide as long as they liked,but which furnished no food of any kind. In the smallclearings we came upon herds of cattle, but they wereall young, with not a cow among them. This was oneof the planted forests of Germany, where a sapling isput in when a big tree is taken out, to conserve thetimber supply. No one would know that it had beentouched by man, except for the roads which ran throughit. There was no waste wood; there were no stumps,no hacked trees, no evidences of fire – such as I haveoften seen in our forests in British Columbia. The Germans know how to conserve their resources!

There was no wind or stars, and there were so manyroads crossing and dividing, that it was hard for us tokeep our direction. Toward morning it began to rain,and soon the wet bushes, as well as the falling rain, hadus wet through.

We stopped at last to wait for daylight, for the forestwas so dense we believed we could travel by day withsafety. We lit our pipes in the usual way, to conserveour matches. One match would light both, when wefollowed this order. The lighted one was invertedover the unlighted one. Into the lighted one Ted blew,while I drew in my breath from the unlighted one. Thismorning, something went wrong. Either the tobaccowas soggy or I swallowed nicotine, for in a few minutesI had all the symptoms of poisoning, I wanted to liedown, but the ground was too wet. So I leaned againsta tree, and was very sorry for myself. Ted felt muchthe same as I did.

Then we tried to light a fire – we were so cold andwet, and, besides, we had a few potatoes, carriedfrom a garden we passed the night before, which wethought we could roast. Hunger and discomfort weremaking us bold. Our matches would not light thedamp wood, and we could find no other. We cheweda few oats, and were very down-hearted. It looked asif lack of food would defeat us this time!

We had so far come safely, but at great expense ofenergy and time. We had avoided travelled roads,bridges, houses, taking the smallest possible risk, butwith a great expense of energy. Our journey had beenhard, toilsome, and slow. We were failing from lackof food. Our clothes hung in folds on us, and we werebeginning to feel weak. The thought of swimming theEms made us shudder! One thing seemed clear – wemust get food, even if to get it imposed a risk. Therewas no use in starving to death.... The recklessnessof the slum-cat was coming to us.

The weather had no mercy that day, for a cold, gray,driving rain came down as we leaned against a tree,two battered hulks of men, with very little left to usnow but the desire to be free.

If this were a book of fiction, it would be easyto lighten and vary the narrative here and there withtales of sudden attacks and hair's-breadth escapes.But it is not a fancy story – it is a plain tale of twomen's struggle, with darkness, cold, and hunger, in aland of enemies. It may sound monotonous to thereader at times, but I assure you, we never, for oneminute, got accustomed to the pangs of hunger, thebeat of the rain, or the ache of our tired legs, and thegripping, choking fear that through some mishap wemight be captured.

The country was so full of bogs and marshes that wehad to stick to the road that night, but we met no person, and had the good fortune to run into a herd of cows,and drank all the milk we could hold. Unfortunately wehad nothing in which to carry milk, so had to drink allwe could, and go on, in the hope of meeting more cows.

While we were helping ourselves, the storm whichhad been threatening all night came on in great fury,and the lightning seemed to tear the sky apart. Wetook refuge in an old cow-shed, which saved us from theworst of it.

That morning we hid in a clump of evergreens, thickenough to make a good shelter, but too short for comfort, for we could not stand up! Ted was having a badtime with his feet, for his improvised socks did not workwell. They twisted and knotted and gave him greatdiscomfort. This day he removed his undershirt, whichwas of wool, and, cutting it into strips five or six incheswide, wound them round and round his feet, and thenput his boots on. He had more comfort after that, butas the weather was cold the loss of his shirt was a seriousone.

That night we came to a river, which we knew to bethe Hunte, and looked about for a means of crossingit. We knew enough to keep away from bridges, buta boat would have looked good to us. However, theredid not seem to be any boat, and we decided to swimit without loss of time, for this was a settled district,and therefore not a good place to hesitate.

On account of our last experience in crossing a river,we knew a raft to carry our clothes on would keep themdry and make it easier for us. So, failing to find anystuff with which to make a raft, we thought of a gatewe had passed a short time back. It was a home-madeaffair, made of a big log on the top, whose heavy rootbalanced the gate on the post on which it swung. Wewent back, found it, and lifted it off, and althoughit was a heavy carry, we got it to the river, and, making two bundles of our clothes, floated them over on it.I swam ahead, pushing it with one hand, while Tedshoved from behind. Our clothes were kept dry, andwe dragged the gate up on the bank. We hope thefarmer found it, and also hope he thought it was anearly Hallowe'en joke!

That day, August 31st, we took refuge in the broom,which was still showing its yellow blossom, and, as the,sun came out occasionally, we lit our pipes with Ted'ssun-glass. The sun and wind dried our tobacco andour socks, and we started off that night feeling ratherbetter.

It was a fine night for our purpose, for there wasconsiderable wind, and we kept going all night, mostlyon the roads. At daylight we took refuge in an openwood. The day was cloudy and chilly, and we foundit long. At night, we had not gone far when we foundthree cows in a small field. We used all our blandishments on them, but the lanky one with straight hornswas unapproachable and aloof in her manner, and wouldnot let us near her. One of the others was quiet enough,but was nearly dry. The third one was the best, andwe filled and drank, and filled and drank, until hersupply was exhausted too. On account of the fieldbeing near the house, we were careful not to let thestream of milk make a sound in the empty can, so leftsome milk in the can each time, to deaden the sound.However, the owners of the cows were safe in bed, andasleep. We wondered if they would think the cowswere bewitched when they found they would givenothing next morning!

CHAPTER XXII
THE LONG ROAD TO FREEDOM

WHEN we had taken all the milk we could extract fromthe cows, we moved off quietly to the corner of the fieldfarthest from the buildings, to get back to the road.We were going over the fence as gently as possible, whenwe saw two men whom we knew from their uniformsto be French prisoners. They were evidently escaping,like ourselves, but had been more fortunate than we,for they had packs on their backs. We tried to gettheir attention by calling to them, but the Frenchword for "friend" did not come to us, only the German "Kamerad," and when they heard that, they tookus for Germans and ran with all speed. We dared notpursue them, or even call, for fear of being heard;so had to see the two big packs, which no doubt hadchocolate, sardines, bread, and cheese in them, disappear in the darkness. However, it may have beenjust as well – two escaping prisoners are enough, forsafety.

September 2d was a fine day, with several hours ofsunshine. From where we had taken refuge in a highspruce thicket, we could look out across a wide heathermoor, all in bloom and a glorious blaze of color, amethyst, purple, mauve, with the bright September sun

A Prison Post-Card from Friedrichsfeld bei Wesel
The group includes soldiers from Canada, Newfoundland, England, Scotland, Wales, Ireland, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, France, Belgium, Italy, Russia, Serbia, and Roumania.

pouring down upon it. Our spirits always rose whenthe sun came out, and sank again when the day grewdark.

Since these experiences of battling bare-handed withthe elements I can understand why primeval man fellinto sun-worship, for on the caprice of the sun with itspower to give or withhold, the happiness and well-being of the roofless traveller depends.

We stayed closely in the dark shadows of the heavyevergreens that day, although just beyond was thegolden sunlight with its warmth and comfort, for wewere afraid to show ourselves in the open. That nightwe came upon a potato garden, and dug out some withour fingers, filling our pockets and our handkerchiefswith them. We had a good night, and shoved the milesbehind us. We had promised ourselves a fire just atdawn, and the thought of it, and the potatoes we shouldbake, was wonderfully cheering.

Just at the beginning of the dawn, in that gray, mistylight, a fire can scarcely be seen, for the air is somethingthe color of smoke, and there is enough light to hide thefire. At night the fire shows, and in the daylight, thesmoke, but in the gray dawn it is not easy to see either.So on the morning of September 3d, we gathered drysticks and made our first fire. There was a blue veil ofhaze on the horizon, and a ragged gray mist hung overthe low places. The air was sweet with the autumnsmell of fallen leaves and wood bark, and as we sat overour tiny fire, we almost forgot that we were in a worldof enemies. The yellow beeches and the dark greenspruces bent over us in friendliest fashion, and a smallbird chased a hawk above the trees.

Still, we were not beguiled by the friendliness of oursurroundings to take any chances, and, instead of waiting for ashes or coal to roast our potatoes, we putthem right on the fire. What if they were burnt on theoutside? We scraped off part of the charcoal and atethe rest. We knew about charcoal tablets being goodfor digestion, and we believed ours could stand a littleassistance, for green apples and new milk are not ahighly recommended combination.

We kept track of the number of potatoes we ate thatmorning. It was twenty-five! What we could n't eatwe put in our pockets, and held in our hands – for thewarmth. That day, September 3d, was the brightestand warmest day we had.

Toward evening we crept out to the edge of the woodto see what sort of country we were in – and found therewas a village quite near us. But as we had heard not asound all day, and as there was not a flutter around itnow, – not a soul stirring or a cow-bell tinkling, – wethought it must be a deserted hamlet. The old and nowalmost indistinct paths through the wood where wesat seemed to tell of a departed people.

We sat in one of these old paths, watching the shaftsof sunlight which filtered through the woods as wewaited for the dark. Then Ted began to fix the stripsof cloth around his feet, and I lay down upon my back,across the path, looking up at the sky, which was shotover with mackerel-back clouds, giving promise ofsettled weather.

Suddenly, around a bend in the path, came a manand a dog. The man carried a gun across his shoulder,and evidently had been shooting birds. I swung myselfoff the path and motioned to him to go by – for hehad stopped in surprise. Ted did the same. Our gestures were polite – but I think had something suggestive in them too – almost commanding.

He passed by, merely bidding us "good-evening,"and remarking in German that Ted's feet were sore!

He walked on, as a peaceable old fellow who had nodesire to get into trouble, and although he must haveseen the yellow stripe down the seams of our trousers,and the prison numbers on our tunics, he kept ongoing.

We watched him through the trees, as far as we couldsee him, but only once did he turn and look back – and then only for a minute. He was not going towardthe village, but we decided to keep away from it, anyway, and at nightfall we made a wide detour to avoid it.The night clouded up, too, and we pushed along withthankful hearts that the old man with the dog knewwhen to keep quiet.

A rare piece of good luck came to us that night. Wecame to a settlement, evidently a new one, for thehouses were of modern design, and the farm-buildings,too, were fresh and newly built. There was evidentlya creamery somewhere near, and beside the road wefound a can full of milk set out, to be gathered up inthe morning. The cream had risen to the top of it,and with our toffee tin we helped ourselves. Later on,we found others, and helped ourselves again. It wasa very satisfactory arrangement for us to have therefreshment booths scattered like this along the way.Then we ate some of the burnt potatoes and an appleor two, had a few drinks of cream from another can,and the night passed pleasantly. From the apple-treesbeside the road we replenished our pockets, and feltthis had been a good night.

It was a good thing for us that the night had startedso well, for along toward morning, probably two hoursbefore daylight, we crossed a peat-bog. There was aroad at first which helped us, but it ran into a pile ofcut peat, drying for the winter. There were also otherroads leading to peat-piles, but these were very misleading, and as the night was of inky blackness, withscarcely any breeze, it became harder and harder tokeep our direction. Consulting the compass so oftenwas depleting our match supply, and I tried to dependon the faint breath of a breeze which sometimes seemedto die away altogether. This bog, like all the others, hadtufts of grass and knolls of varying size coming in themost unexpected places. Over these we stumbled, andfell, many times, and as we felt fairly safe from beingheard, it was some relief to put into language what wethought of the country and all its people, past, present,and future. I believe we were especially explicit aboutthe future!

It was nearly morning when we got off the bog, andas the rain was falling we took refuge in a tumble-downhut which had probably been a cowherd's. We soonsaw that it was a poor shelter, and when a womancame along and looked straight at us, we began to getgooseflesh! She actually smiled at us, and we tried tosmile back reassuringly, but I am afraid there was alack of mirth in our smiles which detracted from theircharm.

She walked away – stopped – looked back at us – and smiled again, and went on, nodding her head as ifshe knew something. We were rather afraid she did,and hastily decided to push on. We were afraid of thelady's patriotism, and determined to be moving. Therewas a thick-looking wood just ahead, and to it we wentwith all speed, taking with us two large gunnysackswhich we found in the hut. They were stamped"Utrecht" and had the name of a dealer there.

All that day we were afraid of the lady who smiledand nodded her head, but perhaps we wronged her inour thoughts, for the day passed without any disturbance. Probably she, too, like the old man withthe dog, knew that silence does not often get one intotrouble.

That day we shaved, but, there being no stream near,we had to empty the rain-drops off the leaves into thetop of the box which held Ted's shaving-stick. It tooktime, of course, but what was time to us? We hadmore time than anything else.

Although we tried to reassure ourselves with thethought that there were probably no soldiers near, andthat the civilians were not likely to do any searching,still we were too apprehensive to sleep, and startedaway at nightfall, with eyes that burned and achedfrom our long vigil.

The night was cloudy at first, with sprinkling rain,but cleared up about midnight into a clear, cold autumnnight. The cold kept me from getting sleepy, but whenI got warm from walking my sleepiness grew overpowering. Ted was more wakeful than I, and took the lead,while I stumbled along behind, aching in every jointwith sleepiness. The night was clear and starry, andTed steered our course by the stars.

No one who has gone through it needs to be toldabout the misery of sleepiness. I fought against it – I pulled open my eyes – I set my will with all the forceI could command, but in spite of all I could do, my eyeswould close and I would fall over, and in the fall wouldawaken and go on, only to fall again. At last we stoppedand lay down, sorry to lose so much of the darkness, butthe cold soon awakened us, and, chilled and shivering,with numb fingers, we struggled to our feet and went on.But when, with the walking, we were warmed again,with the warmth came the sleepiness.

At dawn we crept into a thick bush, but the groundwas damp and cold, and our sleepiness had left us. Weate some of our cold roast potatoes, and tried to sleep,for we dreaded to spend another night like the last one.In the afternoon the sun came out and warmed theair, so we had a fairly good sleep and started awayat nightfall.

The night was clear and starlight, so the peat-bogwhich we encountered did not bother us so much, forwe could see the holes and ridges. After the bog, wecame into a settlement, but the people were in villagesand had their cows stabled, so there was no chance forthirsty and hungry travellers. To the north we couldsee the huge searchlights above Oldenburg, and wethought of the cells – and shuddered! But our hungerwas making us cold again, and we determined to gointo the next village we came to, to find some apples.

The first one we came to was a large one, and compactly built. The night was lit by the stars, and therefore not quite so good for our purpose, but we had tohave something. We cautiously entered a garden gatewhich some one had obligingly left open, but when wegot in, we found that the trees were high, and apparently well looked-after, for not an apple could be found!We were only a few yards from the house, behind whosedarkened windows the family slept, not knowing thatthe alien enemy were so near.

We slipped out of the open gate – we could see nowwhy it had been left open – and went into the nextgarden – with the same result. Every apple had beengathered.We started down the street again, walking cautiouslyon the grass, and slipping along as quickly as possible.We carried the sacks, which we had split open, overour shoulders, and as they were of a neutral shade,they were not so easily seen as our dark-blue suitswould have been.

Suddenly there was the sound of a door opening,ahead of us, on the other side of the street, and twosoldiers came out! We lay flat on the street where wewere, and "froze." The sacks which were wrappedabout us helped to conceal us, or at least made us lookless like men. The soldiers passed along the middle ofthe street, chatting and laughing; we could hear theirspurs clanking! Coming out of the light had probablydulled their sight, and they did not see us. We laythere until their footsteps had died away. Then we gotup, and got out!

We were not hungry any more – at least we were somuch more frightened than hungry that we only knewwe were frightened, and we pushed our way on as fastas we could. That night was the first on which we hadseen the moon. The shelter we found was anothergroup of Christmas trees, and as we still had a coupleof roast potatoes we ate them, and got a little sleep.

The next night the villages kept getting in our way.When we tried to avoid one, we got into another, andin one we saw a light twinkling in an upstairs window,where some woman, probably, sat late at her work orwatched by the bedside of a sick child. As usual, therewere no street lamps, and I think the light inside was acoal-oil lamp! But not a dog barked, and we camesafely out on a road which led in a westerly direction.

In the morning, when the east began to redden, wegot shelter in a thin wood, and, having found some potatoes outside of one of the villages, we determined to runthe risk of having a fire to roast them. We did n't roastmany, though, for the dawn came on too swiftly, andwe had to extinguish our fire, for there was a farmhousenot a hundred yards away, and the people were beginning to stir.

That day there were people working all around us,and one old chap, with a red shirt on, was so ambitiousabout getting his turnips lifted that I don't believehe even knocked off for noon. We thought he wouldnever quit at night either. We called him the "work-hog!"

In the afternoon, as we lay in the woods, an old man,a shepherd, came with a flock of white sheep whichfollowed close behind him. The old man wore a velvetcloak, knee breeches, and buckles on his shoes, and hehad a sheep dog with him – a small-sized tricolored,rough-haired collie. It was exactly like a picture! Wewere not in any mood to enjoy the beauty of it, forsome of the sheep wandered through the wood, almoststepping on us, and when the shepherd came afterthem, he must have seen us. But the old man belongedto the peaceful past, and knew nothing of wars andprisoners, so went out of the wood as quietly as hecame. He was as innocent-looking as the sunshine, orthe white clouds in the blue sky!

Still, we were two suspicious men who trusted noone, and we thought it best to move. I took the potatoesin my sack, and Ted, to be ready for emergencies, provided a stout, knotted club for himself, and we stoleout of the wood, being careful to keep it between us andthe "work-hog," who never lifted his eyes – but stillwe took no chances, even on him!

There was a better wood a short distance away, andto it we came. We saw nobody, and, coming into a darkcover, lit a fire, for we thought the smoke would not riseto the tops of the trees. On it we roasted our remainingpotatoes, and we got a drink in a narrow, trickling stream.

We started again, at dark, and before long came toa railway, which, according to our map, was the linewhich runs parallel to the river Ems. We knew wewere coming near the Ems, and at the thought of it,drew a long breath. It seemed a long time since we hadstood on its bank before and heard the sounds fromacross the Holland border. We kept going all night,avoiding the roads, and about three o'clock reached theriver.There it was! – a much smaller river than when wehad last seen it, but plenty large enough yet to fill uswith apprehension. We found a good hiding-place beforedaylight, and then went back to a potato-field we hadpassed, and put about a pailful in our sacks beforesettling down for the day in the wood.

Just before dawn we made our fire and roasted thepotatoes. They tasted fine, and as the day was warmand bright, we began to feel more cheerful. That daywe heard the deep-booming whistles of steamboats, andthe shriller notes of the canal-boats. Although we knewthe river boats were passing up and down just belowus, we restrained our curiosity and stayed closely hidden.

Just before it got dark we crept to the edge of thehigh ground overlooking the river. The other side ofthe river was flat, and seemed to be settled. I knewfrom a map I had seen that there was a canal a shortdistance beyond the river, and that it, too, would haveto be crossed.

Looking down to the water's edge, we saw a fenceenclosing some pasture land, and were glad to seeanother gate, for we wanted a raft for our clothes, andwe thought this would do. It was a heavy brute ofa gate. We could hardly launch it. Perhaps we weregetting weaker – that may have been the reason itseemed so heavy. Anyway, when we got it to the water's edge, we had to rest before undertaking to swimthe river. The current was not so strong as we hadfeared, and we reached the other side in safety.

We did not pull up the gate, but let it go driftingdown the stream. Perhaps this also is accounted forby the fact that we were getting weaker: also, we considered that we were harder pressed for time than theGerman farmer – he could make another gate.

After we had dressed and had walked for about an hour, we came to the canal. Unfortunately for ourpurpose, the night was clear and the stars were out inthousands, and, to make matters worse, the youngmoon, just a crescent, but still capable of giving somelight, came out. We had been longer than we expectedon our journey, and now, at the most critical time of it,when there was the greatest need of caution, we hadmoonlight nights to face! Still, every night was gettingworse than the last, so we must go forward with allspeed.

The canal was about sixty feet wide, and I felt certainit would be guarded, for it was so near the border. Wewent to the edge, and looked across – and then up anddown – to see if we could find any trace of a guard;everything was quiet.

We knew it was a time for great haste. We went backquickly and undressed. I grabbed my bundle and letmyself cautiously into the water, taking care not tomake the slightest splash. When I reached the otherside, I threw my clothes on the sand and came back farTed – he was waiting for me. I took his clothes, andtogether we swam across!

We got quietly out of the water. I picked up my ownbundle, and we started for the trees on the other side ofthe road. There was an excavation there where sandhad been taken out. Seeing it, we slipped into it noiselessly. We were not a moment too soon, for when westood still and listened, we heard the regular footstepsof a man, and in twenty seconds the patrol marched by!Then we dressed and got out of our fortunate hiding-place, and went on.

We still had a couple of hours before daylight, butthe danger was growing greater every minute, for weknew we were approaching the border. At that thoughtour hearts beat wild with hope. The border would beguarded – there was nothing surer – any minute wemight be challenged. We had talked it over, and weredetermined to make a dash for it if that happened.The patrol would shoot, but there was a chance hemight not shoot straight; he would hardly get us both!

Soon we came to a marsh, with an edge of peat, andas we advanced we saw the peat was disappearing, andit did not look good ahead. The moonlight showed usa grassy mat, level as the top of a lake, and withouta shrub or tree to indicate a solid bottom. It wasevidently a quaking bog, a hidden lake, and only thefear behind us drove us on. It swayed beneath ourfeet, falling as we stepped on it fully a foot, and rising again behind us. There would be little danger ofguards here, for the place would be considered impassable – and maybe it was – we should see!

Our feet were light – fear gave them wings – and weraced over the bending, swaying, springing surface!The moon was not bright enough for us to pick oursteps – there was no picking, anyway – it was amatter of speed! At every step the grass mat wentbelow the surface of the water, and we could feel itrising over our boot-tops – cold and horrible. If wehad hesitated a second, I know we should have gonethrough; but we had every reason for haste. Behind uswas the enemy – cruel, merciless, hateful – with theirstolid faces and their black cells. Under us – wasdeath. Before us – was freedom – home – and theones we love!

At the other side there was more peat, some of it cutand piled. We were puffing hard from our exertions, butwere afraid to rest a second. The border must be near!

In a few minutes after leaving the bog we came to asmall canal, which surprised me – there had been noother canal indicated on any map I had seen. It puzzledme for a minute; then a great joy swept over me! Themaps I had seen were maps of Germany. This canalmust be in Holland!

But I did not say this to Ted, for I was n't sure.We undressed again – the third time that night – and swam the canal, and, dressing again, went on.Soon we found a finely settled country, with roads whichimproved as we went on, all the time. There were notrees, but the darkness still held, and we kept going.Toward morning we took refuge in a thicket, and spentthe day.

That day was September 9th, and although wethought we were in Holland, we were not sure enoughto come out and show ourselves. So we lay low, andate the green apples that we had found on a tree between the river and the canal the night before. Weslept a little, though too excited to sleep much.

Beside the thicket where we were hidden, a boy workedin a field with a fine team of horses, ploughing stubble.We tried to listen to what he said to his team, to seeif there was any change from the German "Burrrrrrsh,"but he was a silent youth, and so far as we could makeout, said never a word all day. So we could not proveit by him!

But the good horses gave us hope – horses werescarce in Germany!

At dusk we started out again, and kept going straightwest, for one fear still tormented us. Our maps showedus that one part of Germany projects into Holland,and for this reason we kept straight west, to avoidall danger of running into it; for the uncomfortablethought would come that to escape from Germany andthen walk into it again would make us feel foolish – not to mention other emotions.

It seemed to be a fine country that we were goingthrough, and the walking was easy, although we werenot on a road. I had been telling Ted that the firstrailway we came to would be a single-tracked one, withdirt ballast, and then we should be sure we were inHolland. I had seen this railroad on the map, and knewit was a few miles from the border. To me, this wouldbe sufficient proof that we were safely out of Germany.

Soon we saw a fringe of houses ahead, and we thoughtwe were coming near a canal, for we were in the countryof canals now, and the houses are built on their banks.There were lights in a few of the houses, for it was onlyabout eleven o'clock, and some of the people were stillup. The houses looked to be rather good ones, and theywere built in a row. It was the backs of them we wereapproaching, which we did with extreme caution, forwe had no desire to have some snarling dog discover usand give the alarm.

So intent were we, watching the houses for any signof life, that we did not see what was just before usuntil we had walked up to it. Then we saw –

It was a railroad, single-tracked, with dirt ballast!

Without a word, Ted and I shook hands! We werein Holland!

CHAPTER XXIII
OUT

IMMEDIATELY we set out to find a road. There wouldbe no more skulking through fields for us. We werefree again, entitled to all the privileges of road andbridge.

We soon found a good wagon-road leading to abridge over the canal. Across the bridge we boldlywent, caring nothing for the houses at our right andleft, whose windows were lighted and whose dogs mayhave been awake for all we cared. It seemed wonderfulto be able to walk right in the middle of the road again!Ted said he wanted to sing, but I advised him to curbthe desire. We were a little hazy as to the treatmentaccorded prisoners by a neutral country.

We still kept west, thinking of the bulge in theGerman boundary to the south of us. The road wassmooth and hard, and we felt so good that we seemedto be able to go as fast as we liked. Fatigue and hungerwere forgotten. A man on a bicycle rode past us andshouted a greeting to us, to which we replied with agood, honest English "Good-night," instead of thesullen grunt we had hitherto been using to hide ournationality.

Cows were plentiful that night, and we got apples,too, from the orchards near the road. The only thingthat troubled us was that our road had turned southwest, and we were afraid that it might lead us into thelittle strip of Germany. However, we went on a shortdistance.

Then we came to a place where there were manycanals, some of them very large, and the stragglinghouses seemed to indicate a town. Afterwards we knewit was the town called Nieuwstadskanaal.

We took a poor road, leading west, and followed itover a heather moor, which changed after a mile or twointo a peat-bog with piles of peat recently cut. Wekept on going, until about five o'clock in the morningwe came to a house. It looked desolate and unoccupied, and when we got close to it we found that it hadbeen badly damaged by fire. But it made a good shelter for us, and we went into what had been the living-room, and lay down and slept. The floor was evenand dry; it was the best bed we had had for twentynights, and, relieved as we were from the fear of detection, we slept for hours.

When we awakened, the sun was pouring in at thecurtainless windows, and we were as hungry as bears."Now for a potato-feed," Ted said, looking out of thewindow at a fine field of potatoes across the road. Thefield had been reclaimed from the peat-bog, and someof the potatoes had already been dug and put into pits.

In looking around for material to light a fire, I sawscraps of newspapers, which I examined closely andfound they were Dutch papers, one bearing the name of"Odoorn" and the other "Nieuwstadskanaal." Thissupported us in our belief that we were in Holland.

We got potatoes from the field and roasted them inthe fire which we built in the fireplace.

A young Hollander, fired with curiosity, came to thedoor and looked in at us. We hailed him with delightand asked him to come right in, and be one of us! Hecame in rather gingerly, looking at us wide-eyed, andwe were sorry to find he could not speak English.There were certain things we wanted to know!

We were drying our matches by the fire, for they hadbecome rather damp, and our supply was getting low.Also our tobacco was done. So we said, "Tabac," showing him our empty pipes, and from the pocket of hiscoat he brought out a pouch, and we filled our pipes.I don't know whether he knew we had been prisonersor not. He drifted out in a few minutes, but I think hetold others about us, for after we had had our smoke,and had gone to the canal to fix up, we found someinterested spectators.

At the canal we washed, shaved, cleaned our teeth,combed our hair, and went as far as we could in gettingready to see people. Ted had his Canadian soldier'stunic, with the regular prisoner's dark-blue trouserssuch as the British Red Cross supplies. His tunic wastorn in several places and his hair was unkempt and inneed of cutting. He had cut the heels out of his boots,several days before, because they hurt him. I had theregular prisoner's suit, dark-blue cloth, and had cut offthe yellow stripe which had been sewed down the legsof the trousers; I had also cut off my prison number.My boots had held well, and there was not even a holein my socks. My hair was getting shaggy, and I supposewe were both looking fairly tough. Our clothes werewrinkled and crushed and dirty.

There was one older man who watched us, with manyexclamations of friendliness, who, when we had concluded our efforts, made us understand that he wantedus to come with him to have something to eat. Hecould speak no English, but he made us understand.We went back to the deserted house, gathered up ourthings, and went with him. Two young fellows camealong, too, and we were taken to a canal-boat nearby.

The woman who waited on the breakfast table in thecanal-boat, and served us with rye-bread, margarine,and coffee, gave us hard looks, which made us thinkher heart was still in the fatherland. Conversation wasnaturally difficult, because no one of them could speakEnglish, but we began to ask about Rotterdam, forwe knew that that would be the port from which weshould sail, and we were anxious to know how to getthere. One of the young men, a fine-looking fellow witha frank, pleasing countenance, said something andmade gestures, which made us think he would take usthere in his boat.

We started out with him and his companion, notsorry to leave the sour-faced lady who glared at us,and walked along the road beside the canal. We wereon the outskirts of Odoorn, a town whose chief industryis the shipping of peat. It being Sunday, nobody wasworking, and the people, especially the children, cameout to see us. The young man took us to one of thehouses and introduced us to his father and mother,who welcomed us kindly and wanted us to have something to eat. But we declined.

We were then taken by him along the road, and thecrowd of children that followed us seemed to be growingbigger every minute. Our friend, anxious apparentlyto do the proper thing, took out his mouth-organ andplayed "It's a Long Way to Tipperary" – and itcertainly hit the spot with us.

He conducted us to the home of the gendarme – and for a minute our old fear of being interned cameback to us! The gendarme was plainly bored – he hadbeen having a Sunday-afternoon sleep, and had notfinished it. He yawned as he spoke.

The young man talked to him very earnestly, and atlast he invited us in. Up to this time we had not hearda word of English. The gendarme's wife, a nice-looking,well-dressed woman, brought in a tray and gave us tea,and little cakes with seeds on them, and soon a youngman who could speak English came in to act as interpreter.

He began to question us, but we soon turned theconversation by questioning him. We asked him ifthere was any danger of our being interned? He toldus we could be interned if we liked, but we hastened toassure him we should not like it.

Then he said we could stay in Holland and work, butagain we declined. We wanted to go to England, wesaid.

He tried to dissuade us. Why go to England? Thatwould mean going back into the army. Holland wasthe best and safest place!

We insisted that we wanted to go to England, andhe warned us that if we wanted to change our mindswe must do it now; because we could n't change afterwe had "signed the paper." We were still sure wewanted to go!

The gendarme then went upstairs and came down inhis uniform and took us out with him. We did n'tknow where he was taking us, but supposed it was tosome place to make arrangements for our passage toEngland. When we came out of the house we foundsome women gathered there waiting for us, and a verypoorly dressed woman, with a fine face, stepped up andgave us a small sum of money, which she had evidentlycollected for us. We thanked her warmly, and withsincere gratitude. Then we set out across country aboutfour miles to Borger, where we were taken to theBurgomaster's house.

The Burgomaster's house was one of the best in thelittle town, and when we went in, we found there ayoung man, evidently calling on the daughter of thehouse, and he could speak English.

We were taken downtown to the Burgomaster'soffice, and official papers were made out, and we signedthem. This was what the gendarme's interpreter hadbeen telling us, about not being able to change ourminds after we had signed the paper!

The Burgomaster evidently told the gendarme totake us to the hotel and have us fed, and by this time,after our walk, we were quite ready for something.When we offered them money for our meal – whichwas a good one – it was politely refused.

We were then taken to the home of one of the Borgengendarmes where we stayed for the night. His name wasH. Letema. We ate with the family and were treatedwith great kindness. The white bread and honey whichwe had for tea were a great treat to us. One of the othergendarmes gave Ted a pair of socks, and he was able todiscard the strips of underwear. We had a bed madeof straw, with good blankets, and it seemed like luxuryto us.

The next morning Mr. Letema gave us each a postal-card addressed to himself, and asked us to write backtelling him when we had safely reached England. Thenanother gendarme walked with us to Assen, whichseemed to be a sort of police headquarters. We stayedthere all day.

In the afternoon a Belgian girl came to see us, andalthough I tried hard to understand what she said, shetalked so fast I could not follow her, although I knewa little French. She brought us some cigars, and wecould see she wanted to show us her friendliness.When she went away, I deeply regretted my ignorance ofthe French language. But the Belgian girl came back ina little while, accompanied by a Holland woman whocould speak English, and then we found out about her.

She had fled from Antwerp at the time of the bombardment, and was supporting herself by needleworkat Assen, where she was the only Belgian person, andI suppose she was tired of "neutrals" and wantedto see us because we were of the Allies. She urged usto tell her what she could do for us, and we asked herfor some postal-cards, so we could tell our friends thatwe had escaped. She sent them to us by her friend theinterpreter, who also gave us some English books anda box of cigars.

That night a young gendarme took us upstairs to hisroom, which was nicely decorated with flags and pennants, and he told us the Germans could never conquerHolland, for they would cut the dykes – as they haddone before. He showed us the picture of his fiancée,and proudly exhibited the ring she had given him.

The next day we were taken by another gendarme toRotterdam by train, passing through Utrecht and insight of the Zuider Zee. Arriving there, we were takento the alien officer, who questioned us and wrote downwhat we told him. Then the gendarme took us to theBritish Consul, and left us there. The Consul shookhands with us and congratulated us on our escape, andput us in charge of a Vice-Consul, who was a Hollander.

We stayed at the "Seaman's Rest," which was inthe same building as the British Consulate. There wemet two Americans, who were very friendly and greatlyinterested in our escape. They encouraged us to talkabout the prison-camps, and of what we had seen inGermany, but it was not long until we became suspiciousand careful in our answers. One of them had an American passport, which seemed to let him have the freedomof the city; the other one had no passport, and complained that he could not get one, and it was causinghim no end of inconvenience, for he found it impossible to get a job at his trade, which was that of "trimmer"on a vessel. He went every day to the docks, lookingfor a job, and acquired considerable information aboutships and their time of sailing. At night, he and hisfriend were together, and the knowledge was no doubtturned over.

Mr. Neilson, Superintendent of the Sailors' Institute,very kindly invited us to go with him to The Hague,to see the Peace Temple, and it was then that we madebold to ask for some spending money. The Vice-Consul,the Hollander, was a thrift-fiend so far as other peoplewere concerned, and it was only after Mr. Neilson hadpresented our claim, and we had used all the argumentswe could think of, that we got about two dollars each.

Our clothes – too – had not yet been replaced withnew ones, and we felt very shabby in our soileduniforms. We mentioned this to the Vice-Consul, andtold him that we believed the Canadian Governmentwould stand by us to the extent of a new suit of clothes.He murmured something about the expenses beingvery heavy at this time. We ventured to remind himthat the money would be repaid – Canada was stilldoing business!

The next day our American friends invited us to goto a picture show with them. We went, but at the doora gorgeously uniformed gentleman, who looked likea cross between a butler and an admiral, turned usback – that is, Ted and me. We had no collars on!The public had to be protected – he was sorry, butthese were his orders.

Then we sought the Vice-Consul and told him if he didnot get us decent clothes, we should go to the Consul.The next morning we got the clothes!

On the sixth night we sailed from Rotterdam, andthe next morning, in a hazy dawn, we sighted, withglad hearts, the misty shores of England.

As we sailed up the Tyne, we saw war shops beingbuilt, and women among the workmen, looking veryneat and smart in their working uniforms. They seemedto know their business, too, and moved about with aspeed and energy which indicated an earnest purpose.Here was another factor which Germany had notcounted on – the women of the Empire! Germanyknew exactly how many troops, how many guns, howmany ships, how much ammunition England had; butthey did not know – never could know – the spiritof the English people!

They saw a country which seethed with discontent – Hyde Park agitators who railed at everything British, women who set fire to empty buildings, and destroyed mail-boxes as a protest against unfair socialconditions – and they made the mistake of thinkingthat these discontented citizens were traitors whowould be glad of the chance to stab their country to theheart. They knew that the average English found golfand cricket much more interesting than foreign affairs,so they were not quite prepared for that rush of mento the recruiting offices at the first call for volunteers!Englishmen may abuse their own country, but it is adifferent matter when the enemy is at the door. Sothey came, – the farmer, the clerk, the bank boy, theteacher, the student, the professional man, the writer,the crossing-sweeper, the cab-man, – high and low, richand poor, old and young, they flocked to the offices,like the land-seekers in the West who form queues infront of the Homestead offices, to enter their land.

I thought of these first recruits – the "contemptiblelittle army" – who went over in those first terribledays, and, insufficiently equipped as they were, wentup against the overwhelming hosts of Germany withtheir superior numbers and equipment that had beenin preparation for forty years.... and how they heldback the invaders – though they had but one shell tothe Germans' hundred – by sheer force of courage andindividual bravery... and with such losses. I thoughtof these men as I stepped on the wharf at Newcastle,and it seemed to me that every country lane in England and every city street was hallowed by the unseenpresence of the glorious and unforgotten dead!

CONCLUSION

I HAVE been at home for more than a year now, andcannot return to the front. Apparently the BritishGovernment have given their word to the neutralcountries that prisoners who escape from Germany,and are assisted by the neutral countries, will not beallowed to return to the fighting line. So even if myshoulder were well again, I could not go back to fight.

Ted and I parted in London, for I came back toCanada before he did. He has since rejoined his familyin Toronto. I have heard from a number of the boysin Germany. Bromley tried to escape again, but wascaptured, and is now at a camp called Soltau. JohnKeith and Croak also tried, but failed. Little Joe, theItalian boy who enlisted with me at Trail, has beensince exchanged – insane! Percy Weller, SergeantReid, and Hill, brother of the British Reservist whogave us our first training, have all been exchanged.

I am sorry that I cannot go back. Not that I likefighting – for I do not; but because I believe everyman who is physically fit should have a hand in thisgreat clean-up – every man is needed! From whatI have seen of the German people, I believe they willresist stubbornly, and a war of exhaustion will be along affair with a people so well trained and organized.The military class know well that if they are forced tomake terms unfavorable to Germany, their power willbe gone forever, and they would rather go down todefeat before the Allied nations than be overthrown bytheir own people. There is no doubt that the war wasprecipitated by the military class in Germany becausethe people were growing too powerful. So they mightas well fight on, with a chance of victory, as to concludean unsatisfactory peace and face a revolution.

The German people have to be taught one thingbefore their real education can begin. They have to bemade to see – and the Allied armies are making itplainer every day – that war is unprofitable; that theirarmy, great though it is, may meet a greater; that heavylosses may come to their own country. They need tobe reminded that he that liveth by the sword may dieby the sword!

The average German thinks that only through superior military strength can any good thing come toa nation. All their lives they have been taught that,and their hatred of England has been largely a resultof their fear of England's superior strength. Theycannot understand that England and the other Allieshave no desire to dominate German affairs. They donot believe that there is an ethical side to this war.The Germans are pitifully dense to ethical values.They are not idealists or sentimentalists, and theirimagination is not easily kindled.

Added to this, they have separated themselves from

Post-Card sent by Private Bromley from the Prison-Camp of Soltau, Germany, in July, 1918
The crosses mark the graves of prisoners who have died at this camp

religion. Less than two per cent of the men attendchurch, and if the extracts we read from the sermonspreached in their churches is a fair sample of the teaching given there, the ninety-eight who stay at home arebetter off than the two who go!

All these things have helped to produce a type ofmind that is not moved by argument or entreaty,a national character that has shown itself capable ofdeeds of grave dishonesty and of revolting cruelty;which cannot be forgotten – or allowed to go unpunished!

But if their faith in the power of force can be broken – and it may be broken very soon – the end of thewar will come suddenly.

The people at home are interested and speculative asto the returned soldiers' point of view. Personally, Ibelieve that as the soldiers went away with diversityof opinions, so will they come home, though in a lessdegree. There will be a tendency to fusion in somerespects. One will be in the matter of coöperation; thecivilian's ideas are generally those of the individual – he brags about his rights and resents any restriction ofthem. He is strong on grand old traditions, and rejoices in any special privileges which have come tohim.

The soldier learns to share his comforts with the mannext him; in the army each man depends on the other – and cannot do without him: there is no competition there, but only coöperation. If loss comes to oneman, or misfortune, it affects the others. If one man ispoorly trained, or uncontrolled, or foolish, all suffer. Ifa badly trained bomber loses his head, pulls the pin ofhis bomb, and lets it drop instead of throwing it, thewhole platoon is endangered. In this way the soldierunconsciously absorbs some of the principles of, andcan understand the reason for, discipline, and acquiresa wholesome respect for the man who knows his job.

He sees the reason for stringent orders in regard tohealth and sanitation. He does not like to get into adirty bath himself, and so he leaves it clean for the nextman. In other words, the soldier, consciously or unconsciously, has learned that he is a part of a greatmass of people, and that his own safety, both commercially and socially, depends on the proper disciplining of the whole people.

The returned soldier will take kindly to projectswhich tend to a better equalization of duties, responsibilities, and pleasures. He will be a great stickler forthis; if he has to work, every one else must work too.He will be hard against special privileges. He will bestrong in his insistence that our natural resources benationalized. He will go after all lines of industry nowin the hands of large corporations, and insist on national supervision if not actual ownership.

In religion, he will not care anything about form.Denominationalism will bore him, but the vital elementof religion, brotherly love and helping the other fellow,will attract him, wherever he finds it. He knows thatreligion – he believes in it.

The political parties will never be able to catch himwith their worn-out phrases. Politicians had betterbegin to remodel their speeches. The iniquities of theother party will not do. There must be a breaking-outof new roads – old things have passed away!

The returned man will claim, above all things, honestdealing, and for this reason the tricky politicians who"put it over" in the pre-war days will not have so easya time. "Guff" will not be well received. The leaderson the battle-field have been men who could look deathin the face without flinching, so the political leadersat home must be men of heroism, who will travel thepath of righteousness even though they see it leads bythe way of the Cross!

There is a hard road ahead of us, a hard, steep roadof sacrifice, and in it we must as a nation travel, although our feet are heavy and our eyes are dim. Thewar must be won; human liberty is worth the price – whatever the price may be!

We do not travel as those who have no hope, for weknow, though we cannot see it, that at the top of themountain the sun is shining on a cleaner, fairer, betterworld.

THE END

The Riverside Press
CAMBRIDGE MASSACHUSETTS
USA