<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2>
<h3>WHAT HAPPENED TO KICQ</h3>
<p>We now felt pretty safe from immediate pursuit,
and turning off to the right we made a semicircle
round the camp and crossed the causeway
between the two lakes. There was a good chance that our
absence would not be discovered for another sixteen hours,
that is, till the 11.30 roll-call next morning. We had about
16 to 20 kilometres to go to Goslar station, but as it was
not yet 7 o'clock, and as our train left at 2.13 a.m., we had
heaps of time. Besides this, Kicq knew the first 6 miles
or so, having been that way on a walk. The walk to
Goslar was almost without incident. We had two compasses,
which had been made in the camp by a Belgian,
and we had a sketch map of the way, which was mostly
through pine forests. We were really overcautious and
made wide detours round houses and took great pains not
to meet any one on the road. All this was most unnecessary,
as our civilian kit was quite good as I afterwards
proved, and we both spoke German well enough to pass
off as Germans for a few words. After walking fast for a
couple of hours we found we were much ahead of time and
so halted for half an hour at the foot of the Brechen, a huge
tower built for sight-seeing purposes on the highest hill in<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</SPAN></span>
the neighborhood. Soon after half-past one we entered
Goslar and walked boldly through the town, saying what
we had to say to each other in German; but we only saw
one man, who took no notice of us. The station was
easily found, and as there were twenty minutes before
the train started we sat on a bench at the side of the
road and waited till 2.05 a.m. before entering the station.
Kicq wished to buy tickets for both of us, but I insisted
on our having nothing to do with one another during the
journey. We decided that Kicq was to go in first and
buy a ticket for Düsseldorf if the train went as far, and
if not, for Elberfeld. At 2.05 a.m. I followed him at about
150 yards distance into the station, and found that the
booking office was not yet open, and that some dozen
people were waiting to take tickets. Our appearance apparently
caused no suspicion, and we both of us examined
the time-tables on the walls in the hope of finding out if the
train went to Düsseldorf. I should very much like to have
known how much the ticket would cost, but could get no
information on either point. Kicq looked a proper Hun
in knee-breeches, dark puttees, brown boots, a German
cape, and no hat. The fashion of going bareheaded had
scarcely come in then, though hat cards had been lately
introduced. Kicq told me afterwards that my own mother
would not have known me. I wore a pair of gold-rimmed
glasses and walked with a bit of a stoop and a limp. My
clothes were green, with a collar that buttoned right up
to the neck. I wore an ordinary black cap, and carried
a black mackintosh over my arm. We both of us had our
hair cut short, and our moustaches had been training for<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</SPAN></span>
some time and curled up a bit at the ends. At last the
ticket office was opened and we got into the queue. I
could not hear what ticket Kicq took, so I said, "Dritte
nach Düsseldorf Schnellzug" when my turn came. The
clerk made some remark which I did not catch, so I added
another 5 marks to the 20-marks note which I had put
down. He had apparently asked if I had any small
change, as he pushed back my 5-marks note and gave me a
lot of change and my ticket. I pretended to count it and
then stuffed it into my pocket and was jolly glad to get
that business over. After I had taken my ticket I lost
sight of Kicq, but the man who clipped my ticket at the
barrier told me from what platform the train for Düsseldorf
went. I put my bag down and sat in a dark corner
on one of the benches and lit a German cigar. Kicq was
walking up and down, and I did so too, though we took
no notice of each other. The train was rather late, and
I dared not go near my bag as an officer and a girl were
standing close to it. When the train came in and I
picked up the bag the girl gave me a suspicious look, but
she did not have time to say anything, as I grabbed the
bag and scrambled into a third-class coach. I did not see
Kicq again till we met once more in prison.</p>
<p>Before I go any farther with my story, I will tell you
how Kicq was caught. He told me about it in prison, but
I cannot be certain that I have remembered all the details
accurately. He got into a third-class coach and stood in
the corridor. After he had been there a short time an
officer came up and talked to him, and as the train rocked
about a good deal they had to shout to make themselves<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</SPAN></span>
heard. The officer did not seem to suspect anything wrong
with the accent. Kicq talked German perfectly fluently,
but in my opinion he has rather a curious accent. In
answer to a question he told the officer that he had been on
a walking tour, during his holiday, in the Harz Mountains,
and numerous other lies. When asked if he had served
in the army he said he had been paralyzed in the arm from
infancy, and then was forced to tell more lies of a complicated
nature. Kicq swore the fellow did not suspect
anything, but was merely a conscientious ass. Evidently
the officer asked to be allowed to look at Kicq's passport.
Kicq said he was sorry he had not got it on him; he had
never found it necessary to carry a passport, and he had
never been asked for it before. The officer said that any
letters he had on him would do, just to prove his identity.
Kicq answered that for the last few days he had been
walking and he had received no letters. The Bosche,
apologizing, said he was sorry he would have to ask him
to identify himself by telephone from the next station, but
that he was officially bound to do so under the circumstances.
Kicq said that of course he would be delighted
to do so, and went to the lavatory, where he got rid of
everything by which it would be possible to identify him as
a prisoner of war. At the next station he intended to
bolt as soon as the train stopped, but for some reason he
had no chance of doing so. At the next station he said he
was a Swiss deserter, and refused to give his name for
the sake of the honor of his family. During the next
twenty hours he told the most amazing number of lies,
and at the end was very nearly sent to a civilian camp to<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</SPAN></span>
be interned there pending investigations. Of course that
was just what he wanted, as he had managed to hide
money on his person and was quite confident that he would
have no difficulty in escaping from any civilian camp.
Unfortunately he was identified by an Unteroffizier sent
from Clausthal for the purpose. But if he had not succeeded
in his main object, he had at any rate concealed
his identity for twenty-four hours, and thereby greatly
increased my chances.</p>
<p>To return to my story. After getting into the third-class
coach I made my way along the corridor, looking for
a seat. The train was rather crowded, and the first carriage
I tried to get into was half full of soldiers. I asked
if there was a seat free, and was told, "Nur militärisch."
By this time I had completely got over all feelings of
nervousness, and was thoroughly enjoying the whole situation.
A little farther on a young fellow saw I was looking
for a place, and coming out into the corridor said he
was getting out next station and I could have his corner
place. This suited me very well, as I got a seat next to
a woman. So I sat in the corner, pulled the curtain
over my face, and went to sleep. I did not wake up again
till we got to Elberfeld about 6 a.m. At Elberfeld a number
of people got in, and the carriage was crowded with
business men. A pretty lively discussion started, and I was
afraid of being asked for my opinion, so I buried myself in
the paper I had bought at Elberfeld and soon pretended to
be asleep again. We got to Düsseldorf between 8 and 9, I
think. I could see no signs of Kicq as I got out, and not
caring to loiter about too much on the platform I went<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</SPAN></span>
through the barrier and waited about in the main hall,
through which he would have to pass to leave the station.
After waiting for ten minutes I became anxious about him,
and turned over all the probabilities in my mind. (1) He
might have been recaptured in the train. (2) He might
have taken a ticket to Elberfeld, under the impression the
train only went as far as that. In this case he would
come on soon, and I searched the time-tables without much
success to find out when the next train from Elberfeld to
Düsseldorf came in. (3) He might be waiting for me in
some other part of the station, but as it was obviously easier
for him to come out through the barrier than for me to go
in, I decided that I was waiting in the most suitable place
and had better stay there for a bit. In the meantime,
according to our scheme, I asked for a plan of the town
from a bookstall. The old man who sold it to me had to
get it from the main bookstall, and then chatted very
pleasantly to me on the weather, the war, and the increase
of paper money with every new war loan. I confined my
remarks to "Ja wünderschön," "Da haben Sie recht," "Ja
wohl, es geht nicht so schlimm," "Kolossal," etc., but
nevertheless began to get enormous confidence in my
German. I also bought a local time-table. After waiting
for about half an hour I did not like the way an old fellow
in uniform, a sort of station official, was looking at me,
so with the help of my plan I made my way to the river.
I spent the next four hours in Düsseldorf, going to the
station at intervals to see if Kicq had turned up. Our
plan was to get hold of a Dutch bargee, so that I
thought I had almost as good a chance of meeting him<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</SPAN></span>
on the riverside as at the station, besides which the aforesaid
old man at the station had got a nasty suspicious look
in his eye. I bought some apples from an old lady in
the market-place by the river, and then went to a quiet
spot and ate some sandwiches and considered the situation.
As far as I could see, there was nothing at all promising in
the way of bargees on the river. I knew that an English
officer had escaped from Crefeld, and that from Crefeld
to the frontier was only about twenty or thirty miles. I
soon saw from my time-table that I could get a tram to
Crefeld across the Rhine, so I inspected the bridge over the
Rhine, and as far as I could see no passes were asked for,
from those going over in the tram. Before I did anything
more, it seemed to me absolutely necessary to have some
sort of map of the frontier, so I determined to try to buy
one. I walked back once more along the riverside, and,
as it was hot, tried to buy some milk in a milk shop. The
woman said something about a milk card, so I said, "Ah, I
forgot," and walked out. I went back once more to the
station by tram (I was getting tired of lugging my bag
about, and used the trams pretty freely). On the way
there I went into a bookshop and bought a map of Nord
Deutschland and then asked for a Baedeker. The woman
said she did not think she was allowed to sell that, and
called her husband, who turned out to be a German N.C.O.
He said that, owing to the number of suspicious persons,
spies, prisoners of war, etc., he had to be very careful to
whom he sold maps. I said, "Natürlich, das verstehe ich
wohl" (Naturally, I can well understand that). Just
then I caught sight of a map marked "Umgebungen von<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</SPAN></span>
Krefeld" (The Neighborhood of Crefeld), and asked to
look at it. It was just what I wanted, an excellent map
of Crefeld to the frontier, about 1:100,000. I bought
this and cleared out, without, I think, arousing any
suspicion. My confidence in my German was now
"kolossal"! There was, of course, no sign of Kicq at
the station, so I took the tram for the park in order to
have lunch and a quiet look at my map. After I had been
there a short time and had made up my mind as to my
plan of campaign, I noticed an old gentleman observing
me in a suspicious manner. He was obviously stalking
me and trying to get a better look at me and my map. I
waited till he had gone round a bush and then packed up
rapidly, walked round another bush, and going through
a sort of shrubbery got out of the park and boarded the
first tram I saw. After traveling I know not where on
this, I got out, and making my way to the river, strolled
once more along the docks, keeping a lookout for Kicq,
and then walked up the main street (always carrying my
bag) to Prince Afold Platz, from where my tram to
Crefeld started. A pointsman showed me the place from
which the trams left every half-hour, so after one more visit
to the station I caught the one o'clock tram. The girl
conductress on the tram said I was on the wrong tram when
I asked for my ticket. She gave me the ticket, however,
and told me to get out at the first station over the Rhine
and get into the next tram. At the first station over the
Rhine I got out, and seeing a Bierhalle asked for a glass
of beer. I had just given the woman a mark when my
tram came in, so without waiting for the change I grabbed<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</SPAN></span>
my bag and made off. She ran after me, but I pointed
to the tram and called, "It does not matter, I have no time,"
and boarded the tram.</p>
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