Back Aa

Escaping Club

<hr style="width: 65%;" />[230] <h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2> <h3>FREEDOM</h3> The moon had risen by now, and a walk of two or three hundred yards brought us into the village, which we entered without seeing any one. It was quite a small place, and though nearly 1 o'clock there were several houses in which lights were showing. "I suppose we really are in Switzerland," said Buckley. I felt certain about it, and we determined to knock up one of the houses in which we saw lights burning, as food we must and would have without delay. We were standing in a small cobbled square, and just as we were selecting the most likely looking house we caught sight of two men who were standing in a dark spot about 30 yards away. I called out to them in German, "Is this Barzheim?" "Jawohl" was the answer. "Are we in Switzerland?" Again, "Jawohl." "Well, we are escaping prisoners-of-war from Germany and we are very hungry." The two fellows, whom we saw to be boys of sixteen or seventeen, came up. We were very much on our guard and ready for trouble, for we believed then, though I do not know with what justice, that the Germans have agents on the Swiss side of the border who misdirect escaped prisoners so that they walk back into Germany, or even forcibly deliver them to[231] the German sentries. "Escaped prisoners, are you?" said one of the young men. "Yes," I said, "Englishmen." They showed some interest. "We are English officers, and we want food very badly." "Come on," they said, and led us to a house at the corner of the square. Then we sat on a wooden bench, and they lit a candle and had a look at us. We repeated our desire for food, and they cross-questioned us and tried us with a word or two of English. They were much interested in the fact that we were English officers, as no Englishmen had crossed before at that place. Concerning the rest of that night my memory rather fails me, but soon the whole household was roused—father, mother, and daughter. Wine, beer, and milk were produced; also bread, and cold bacon and three fine eggs each. We ate everything there was, and I think cleaned out the family larder, whilst the family sat round and questioned us, and were much surprised to find that two English officers could speak German. They could not possibly have been kinder or more friendly, and absolutely refused to take money from us. They were delighted to be our hosts and show themselves good neutrals, they said. As we had visions of hot baths, sheets, and breakfast in bed, we expressed our intention of going on to Schafhausen that night, but the father rather shocked us by saying that we must be handed over to the Swiss frontier post. The girl, however, tactfully added that, if we went on, we might easily lose our way and walk back into Germany,[232] and that with the Swiss soldiers we should be perfectly safe. That decided us, as we were both beginning to feel very sleepy after the food and wine. Soon afterwards one of the boys took us across to the guardhouse, where soldiers provided us with mattresses and we fell asleep instantly. At an early hour next morning the soldiers brought us hot water and shaved us and bound up my feet. They were extraordinarily good to us, and, after we had had coffee and bread, they filled our pockets with cigars and cigarettes and sent us off with the best wishes and a guide to the station about 2 kilometres away. The road passed quite close to the German frontier, and we felt glad that we had not tried to pass that way the night before. We soon found that our guide was really a plain-clothes police officer, and that, though the fact was tactfully concealed, we were still under arrest. However, "What does it matter?" we said. "Food is the main thing now, and we'll escape from any old prison in Switzerland, if it comes to that." Our "guide" seemed a very decent fellow, and told us that we were about to travel on a German railway. We halted abruptly whilst he explained at some length that, though it was a German-owned railway, the Germans had no rights over the Swiss traffic on the railway, and that under no circumstances could we be arrested by the Germans when on that bit of their railway which ran through Switzerland. More or less satisfied, we went on again. In the village we entered a pub, rather against our guide's will, and had some more coffee and bread. It was wonder[233]ful how much stronger we felt owing to the food. Buckley, when he had stripped to wash that morning, had shown himself to be a living skeleton, and I was not much fatter. Whilst in the pub a fat dirty fellow came and congratulated us, and questioned us in bad English. I have no doubt now that he was a German agent, and I think we were rather injudicious in our answers, but we had sense enough to hold our tongues about the important points—when we crossed, and how, etc. The railway journey to Schafhausen was rather amusing. It was so very obvious that we were escaped prisoners, as we still had on service tunics, and, except for that portion of our faces which had been scraped with a razor, we were filthily dirty from head to foot. Our clothes were covered with mud, with thick pads of it on our knees and elbows where we had crawled the night before, and our faces and hands covered with sores and swellings from unhealed scratches and insect bites. Several German railway officials gave us a first glance of surprise and indignation, and thereafter were careful not to look in our direction. Considering the temptations of the situation we behaved on the whole very decently, but even the mildest form of revenge is sweet. At Schafhausen our guide or keeper took us to the police and secret service headquarters and introduced us to a Swiss Lieutenant who spoke alternately German and French, with a preference for the former. He told us that we would be lodged at Hotel something or other, and would be sent down to Berne on Monday, that day being Friday. I thanked him, and said that we wished to[234] get on the telephone to a friend in the English Embassy at Berne, and we should much prefer to go down that afternoon. As for waiting in Schafhausen till Monday, it was out of the question. He had a great struggle to put it with the utmost politeness, but his answer came to this. He did not see how it could be arranged, and we had no option in the matter; we should be extremely comfortable, etc. We answered firmly, but politely, that we had not got out of Germany to be confined in Schafhausen, and that there was a train at 3 o'clock which would suit us. Just at this moment a Swiss major came in. The lieutenant introduced us, and I appealed to him to allow us to go to Berne that day. After some argument he suddenly gave in, and ordered the lieutenant to take us to Berne by the 3 o'clock train. Then turning to us he said, with a charming smile, "Come and lunch with me before you go." We then walked round the town with the lieutenant, bought some things, and Buckley telephoned to H. at the Embassy. We got back late for lunch, only ten minutes before the train started. However, we managed to bolt four courses and half a bottle of champagne apiece, and just as the lieutenant, who had been prophesying for some minutes that we should miss the train, finally stated that it was hopeless to try and catch it now, we got up and ran for it, with him lumbering behind. We just caught it. At Berne we were met by H., who threw up his hands in horror at the sight of us and bundled us into a closed taxi. At one of the most luxurious hotels in the world, we had[235] a most heavenly bath, and changed into beautiful clean clothes lent to us by H. That night H. gave a dinner in our honor. Buckley and I were ravenously hungry, and in fact for the next fortnight were quite unable to satisfy our appetites. But besides the good food the dinner was otherwise most amusing, because the German Embassy inhabited the same hotel and dined a few tables from us, and no secret was made of what we were and where we had come from. The next morning we had the oft-anticipated breakfast in bed. I ordered, by telephone from my bed, the largest breakfast possible, and was disgusted to see the moderate-sized feed which arrived, the waiter explaining that the amount of one breakfast was limited by law. I instantly ordered a second breakfast exactly like the first, and ate all that too. I found out afterwards that Buckley had employed exactly the same ruse for obtaining more food! That day we were invited to lunch by the English Minister, who was extremely kind, but I think rather astonished at our appetites. After lunch, Buckley and I strolled about for a bit, and then by common consent made for a tea-shop, where we had another good feed. In fact, we made pigs of ourselves in the eating line, and for the next fortnight or three weeks ate as much and as often as possible, without ever being satisfied, and, which is still more astonishing, without any ill effects. I suppose we were safeguarded by the fact that we ate good food, and as we were in civilized society it was scarcely possible to eat more than a limited amount at any one meal. H. lent us money, and in Berne we bought expensive[236] watches and ready-made clothes, and then obtained leave to visit my brother and sister at Mürren. This was the same brother to whom I have already referred as a wounded prisoner-of-war. A few months before our escape he had been invalided out of Germany, and my sister, who was a trained masseuse, went out to Switzerland to look after him, and I believe did much useful work among the exchanged prisoners. H. sent us over to Mürren in the embassy car, a most beautiful journey all along the edge of the lake. At one point our car was stopped by a party of exchanged English officers, who, poor fellows, mostly keen regular soldiers, were condemned to spend the rest of the war in Switzerland. They wanted to hear our story, and were full of enthusiasm because we had scored off the Germans. At the foot of the funicular railway we met my brother and sister, and at Mürren itself which I had no idea was a camp for exchanged English soldiers, all the men turned out, and, headed by a wild Irishman with a huge placard "Welcome back from Hun-land" and a bell, gave us a tremendous reception, for which Buckley and I were entirely unprepared. This brings to an end all that is of any interest in my German experiences. After two very pleasant days at Mürren we traveled via Berne to Paris, and then by car to General Headquarters (where I fear we were unable to give much information that was of value), and so home to England. There is one other thing I should like to say before I bring this story to a close. Although Buckley and I are[237] among the few English officers who have escaped from Germany, there were many others who tried to escape more often, who took more risks, who were at least as skilful as we were, but who had not the luck and consequently never tasted the fruits of success. Several died or were murdered in their attempts. In my opinion no prisoner-of-war has ever escaped without more than a fair share of luck, and no one ever will. However hard you try, however skilful you are, luck is an essential element in a successful escape. [238] <hr style="width: 65%;" /> [239] <h2>PART II</h2> [240] <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2

Update Required To play the media you will need to either update your browser to a recent version or update your Flash plugin.