CHAPTER XIII
ROUTINE

THE forty Americans I found at Villingen included twenty of our doctors who had gallantly volunteered to serve with the British before our armies were ready. Most of them were taken in the German "push" on March ,3d. Then there were a half dozen merchant officers taken by the German raider Wolff. The remainder were line officers. Later in the summer the American aviators who had been imprisoned at Landshut, in Bavaria, were sent to our camp, and by October 1St we numbered eighty.

We used to "turn out" about eight o'clock every morning, cook our breakfast from Red Cross food, and then answer roll-call at nine. We formed ourselves into messes of four or five officers and took turns preparing the meals and drawing the food. When the Red Cross parcels came they were taken to the room in the office building mentioned before. Here they were opened in the presence of the officer to whom addressed and everything searched to see if they contained any contraband. The packages of sugar, coffee, hard bread, and the like were opened and given to us; and the canned goods were placed in a box and kept there to be drawn out when needed.

Every afternoon, except when the Germans were feeling indisposed, we could draw our canned goods at a certain hour. We would take over dishes in which to place the food; and the interpreter and assistants would open the cans we wanted and dump the contents into the dishes. Then they would throw the cans (sometimes still partly filled with meat, butter, or condensed milk) into a large box, from which they were afterwards taken and sent to the kitchen. Here they were boiled and the grease extracted. Nothing went to waste in Germany—not even our food!

After morning roll-call we usually had a few games of volley-ball; and in good weather some of the officers would play tennis on the one court, which, by the way, was built by the Russians before any Americans came to the camp. Even the music room, library, and assembly hall were constructed with their money, when a year or two before they had decided to make themselves as comfortable as possible since the war insisted on lasting so long.

When I first reached Villingen I was the senior American officer at the camp. I was not treated as such, however, by the Germans, who could not forgive me for my attempt to escape; but finally when they found that none of the other officers would take the responsibility, and that all considered me to be the senior officer by our standards, the commandant gave in.

He sent for me several times when something went wrong; and whenever there were any requests to be made I took them to him personally. I believe I can truthfully say that he never granted any. I remember one was to allow us to go out to church in Villingen on Sunday. We had no chaplains in camp, so Catholics and Protestants alike were desirous of attending divine services at the German churches in town. We offered to give our parole, but as usual the request was refused.

At first the Americans and Russians took walks together every morning except Sunday. We gave our word of honor not to attempt to escape, so were not guarded; but one German officer went along to direct the promenade. Some of the Russians used to drop out of the line and buy food at the peasants' houses. They exchanged camp money with the guards for good German money and with this they bought whatever the peasants could spare them— sometimes an egg or two, sometimes a small bottle of milk. Twice they were seen by the officer in charge of the walking party bargaining with the peasants; and the commandant threatened to discontinue our walks if it occurred again. Of course prisoners were forbidden to have any intercourse with the civil population.

Finally the Russians were caught again and the walks were discontinued. Then I went to the commandant and threatened to report it to the Spanish Embassy (who were supposed to be caring for the rights of Americans in Germany) if he did not allow us to continue this form of exercise. We were entirely innocent; although had we been as hungry as the Russians, we too should have been anxious to buy food at any price, all the laws of the country notwithstanding.

Although no agreement existed between America and Germany about the treatment of prisoners of war, it was a well recognized fact in all prison camps that the prisoners were entitled to a tramp in the country a certain number of times a week. Other nationalities took these walks except the poor Russians who had no one to look after them; and the commandant, knowing this, agreed to allow us to go three times a week. Later on he gave the Russians two more chances, in both of which they were found trading with the peasants; so their walking privilege was finally rescinded entirely.

These walks were great events for us. We would leave the camp about nine-thirty and return about eleven-thirty. At first we could choose our own direction, but toward the last the officer in charge of the party would take the road that best suited him. If it were damp or rainy we were not allowed to go. Several times we had only one or two trips a week. We liked long brisk walks, but seldom did we get farther than two miles away from the camp. The change, however, from the gravel dirt of our prison yard to the restful green of the neighboring forest, was a great relief to us

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It was on these walks that we came in contact with the peasants and in touch with the real conditions existing in that part of Germany. On one occasion when passing a hayfield filled with women and children, I inquired of some the size of their families and the ages of the youngsters. The smallest family had eight children, but two families contained thirteen each. One party had a little boy two and a half years old raking hay into piles in imitation of his elder brothers and sisters. An other had a three-year-old girl doing the same. Still no waste in Germany!

After our morning exercise most of the officers would get their textbooks of foreign languages and with a companion to point out the mistakes and help in correcting them they would study until noontime. The languages most preferred were French and German. Among the Russians were many who could speak both these tongues and who were therefore invaluable to us as teachers.

Owing to the treatment I had already received at the hands of the Huns, I refused to have anything to do with German; for I was determined to exterminate the race and render the further use of their language unnecessary. French I was acquainted with, so I had no distractions from the important duty ahead of me. With a few others I gave all my time and attention to the making of maps and the collection of material to make an escape possible. Later events rewarded our perseverance.

About noontime the German newspapers would come. Then, while one of our doctors who spoke German read the official communiques, the rest of us would gather round and breathlessly listen to the news. We bribed the man at the canteen to get us maps of the Western Front and in this way kept ourselves informed of the varying fortunes of our armies.

We could not receive any Allied newspapers; and while the Germans published our communiques in their papers, they usually omitted to mention the number of prisoners we took. And if we made any advance it was explained away by merely saying: "We fell back to previously prepared positions, exacting a heavy toll from the enemy. In this way we are conserving our man power. The British and French are suffering frightful losses," etc., etc.

Two newspapers printed in English were sent to the camp and distributed in our barracks. One, "The Continental Times," edited by a renegade Englishman by the name of Aubrey Stanhope, was openly hostile to the Allied cause and was filled with invective against President Wilson and the other Allied leaders. The other, "America in Europe," we believed to be edited by some one who had formerly been at the head of a German propaganda bureau in the United States. It appeared under a friendly guise and was so written as to deceive a casual reader; but the poison was bound to be discerned sooner or later. Both papers after July pleaded for the discontinuance of the terrible war, "for humanity's sake." When the insults against the President became so obvious we demanded of the commandant that he cease sending the papers into the camp. The only result of this demand was their even more regular appearance in our midst.

When the papers were read we had our dinner. If there was anything edible in the mess hall, we would carry it back to our barracks, mix some Red Cross food with it, and have lunch, as we called it. Sometimes we would prepare a dish or two and have it cooked by the French soldiers who formed the kitchen crew under the German chef; for our own facilities for cooking were very limited. We bought a small cook-stove for each barrack through the canteen man, or from Russians when they left the camp; and although twenty officers were a large number for each stove, still it could be done if we had wood enough. As it was, we were allowed only a few sticks as our ration each week, and of course were charged unheard-of prices for it.

In the afternoon we again played volleyball and then studied until supper-time. For the evening meal we prepared a larger amount of food and called it dinner. After the first week I never entered the mess hall; but in our barrack with three other officers I enjoyed the preparation and eating of the three meals and the ceremony we made of each. When one of us received a private parcel from friends or relatives in France or England, it always contained tea; so we were able at times to enjoy that little function known as "afternoon tea."

Usually after the evening roll-call it was light enough for a "championship" game of volley-ball, and then every one promenaded around the yard. The remainder of the evening was spent in playing cards. The lights in the barracks were never turned on until it was completely dark and at ten-thirty they were turned off again. After II P.M. no prisoners were allowed in the yard and frequent inspections were made after that hour to see that we were in our beds and that quiet prevailed.

Many nights, especially after an Allied victory, we would gather and sing all the patriotic airs we could think of. And then after we had "turned in" we would regale the guards with a few bars of "Oh, My Dear Augustine."

"Ock doo leeber Hinden-dorf, Ludenberg, Hinden-dorf, Ock doo leeber Ludenberg, Allus Kapoot," would boom out from our barracks; and several times they called out the guard and threatened to shoot if the disturbance was not instantly stopped. "Allus Kapoot" was our American pronunciation of a little phrase meaning "You are finished." Of course, the following morning the senior of ricer was almost finished by the commandant when he heard of the proceedings of the night before.

CHAPTER XIV
INCIDENTS

THE summer of I9I8 must have been an exceptional one for the "Schwarzwald," otherwise it would be hard to account for the number of summer hotels in the forest near Villingen. I had heard that that part of Germany was considered an excellent summering place; but we had only six real summer days during the three months I was there. Most of the time I wore a heavy overcoat that I had obtained from a British officer; and although it rained only two or three days each week, still it was cold and cloudy every day—and our barracks were not heated.

The nights especially were cold—so cold in fact that we had to pile all our clothing and other belongings on our beds in order to sleep. This was in July and August. Very severe frosts were experienced in August and they ruined the potato crop of that part of the country. Such disagreeable weather had a very depressing effect on us. Besides, it was not until September that we began to receive hopeful news from the front.

As for mail from home, it was nearly four months after I was taken prisoner before I received any letters; and that was the experience of most of the other officers. When mail came it was placed in some kind of acid for ten days or two weeks to bring out any writing in sympathetic ink and was then given to us. But the interpreter knew so little English that it was several weeks later before he caught up with our letters. Some that contained such words as "Hun," "Boche," and the like, were smeared with black ink so that the whole letter was indecipherable. Of course these were the ones we received—many never got that far.

We were allowed to write two letters and four post-cards a month; and, naturally, nothing detrimental to the Germans could be mentioned or the letters found a permanent resting-place in the waste-basket.

From the Y.M.C.A. at Berlin we were able to get athletic goods of certain kinds, such as Indian clubs, volley-balls, and some indoor baseballs. But we had so little space in which to play! I asked for permission to use the adjoining fields as a playground, giving our parole every time we left the camp; but the request was not granted, so we had to content ourselves with the single volley-ball court we built next to the tennis court.

A few of our officers were so badly wounded as to be entirely incapacitated for further duty. We asked that steps be taken to have these men sent to a neutral country where they would at least receive the medical attention they needed. Upon being rebuffed by the commandant, I wrote the Spanish Ambassador asking him to send a representative with whom we could take up this and other grievances. Apparently the letter was never received.

Before I arrived at the camp a member of the Spanish Embassy at Berlin had visited the Americans, and after hearing their complaints, had left, promising to take up the matter with the German Government and to send an official at least once a month to see how conditions were at the camp. Nothing happened. Late in September, after an absence of four or five months, some one purporting to be from the Spanish Embassy came to Villingen and asked how we were getting along!

Neither the Red Cross nor the Y.M.C.A. could have any representatives in the camp or even in the vicinity. Had this been allowed, a closer check could have been kept on the food and other things sent us, our needs determined, and relief measures adopted at once instead of waiting two months for our correspondence to make the circuit.

Fleas at the camp were so numerous as to make life miserable, and it was impossible to get any disinfectant from the Germans, although we asked the commandant and finally the doctor. It would have been a small matter to fumigate the barracks, but we were only prisoners so it was not considered necessary.

We were compelled to salute every German officer of no matter what rank. Most of their officers at prison camps were reserve sergeants promoted to be second lieutenants for the duration of the war. Still Allied generals and colonels had to salute them.

Most of the foreign services slightly incline the head when exchanging the hand salute, but this reaches the state of servility in Germany. There, a junior saluting a senior, not only inclines the head, but bends the whole body. The Germans expected us to do the same, but this was entirely contrary to our principles, so we refused.

One day, while most of us were on a walk in the country, the commandant met one of our officers in the yard and noticed that the salute was not what his German inferiors usually accorded him. So he called the young officer to the office and proceeded to admonish and finally to threaten him. A few minutes later, when we returned from our walk, the interpreter came to me and said that the commandant felt he was not being given the proper salute by the American officers; and he therefore ordered that in the future the German salute be rendered. I sent back word "that the salute as rendered by the American officers was that ordered by our Government. Furthermore, it was a sign of respect, not of servility, and while we wished to show the proper amount of respect we would be servile to no one. Therefore we refused to change our manner of saluting." Nothing ever came of this and we continued our own salute.

We found the stupidity of the Germans beyond belief. Anything that had happened once they were prepared for. Or anything that they had heard about might be likely to happen again. But something original would catch them utterly unprepared. Several times we hid contraband under their very noses, but it was not discovered because that particular thing had never been tried before.

They used to send an officer to inspect our barracks once or twice every night. This was to see if we had gone out unknown to them. The times for the inspections varied. Sometimes they would come in about midnight, make the rounds of all the beds, using a flashlight to see if they were occupied, and then go out. A few minutes later they would hurry back hoping thereby to nip some plan. Two or three times a bundle of clothes took the place of a prisoner in his bunk, but the inspecting officer saw a sleeping (?) shape and was satisfied.

One night an officer happened to be out of his bed getting a drink of water at the faucet in the center of the yard when inspection was made. "Ha! an escape!" The bed belonged to one of the merchant marine officers, a man over sixty years old, but nevertheless he must have escaped! The inspecting officer ran over to the guard-house, aroused the relief guard of forty men and the officer of the day, and then with the latter in tow hurried back to take another look at the empty bed.

But in the meantime the occupant had returned. And then there was a real mystery. The prisoners who understood German could hear the conversation that ensued. "Surely some one had escaped because the bed had been found empty; and although it was now occupied, it looked very suspicious." They finally posted half the relief guard as a cordon around the camp and the remainder were detailed to search the ceIlars for the man who was absent from his bed at the first inspection!

Those cellars were the bane of the guards' existence. The Russians had tunneled out so many times that if an escape were ever made the cellars had something to do with it—so argued the Germans. Tunneling had been attempted, but no other way had been tried; therefore they were prepared for the former, but would be utterly bewildered if anything else should happen. That is why I determined that in all my plans of escape I would stay off the beaten track in everything and base my hopes on the old military principle of doing what the enemy least expected.

CHAPTER XV
PLANS

AFTER my two weeks of solitary confinement in the cell I found I could hardly walk. I was not only weak, but my wounded knees were not mended. In another two weeks, however, I could walk very well and was gaining weight and strength rapidly. I knew that in order to escape I must be in good physical condition, so I laid down rules to be followed in my training. With several other officers I arose at seven o'clock every day and took a series of calisthenics, finishing off with a cold shower bath—which was one of the few luxuries we enjoyed there. We were allowed only one hot bath each week.

Besides those exercises I walked around the yard, at first slowly and for not more than a half-hour each day, increasing this gradually, until by the first of October I was walking fifteen miles a day. I had measured the track and there were seven laps to the mile, so by the time I had completed one hundred and five laps every day I was a familiar figure to the Germans. There was little danger of arousing their suspicions further, however, for I had already told them that I considered it my duty to escape. Anyway, they felt sure their defenses at the camp were secure, and only wondered why I should be so foolish as to wear out shoe leather when no shoes, nor even leather, could be obtained in Germany at any price.

Wooden-soled shoes were worn by the soldiers; and the peasants all wore shoes made entirely of wood. We were able to buy a few good pairs, however, from British "Tommies" at Karlsrnhe. They had been captured long before and were receiving two pairs per year from their Government. In escaping, a solid pair of shoes was a strict necessity, and we considered a hundred dollars a small price to pay for them.

Now plans for an escape were properly divided into three parts: first, those covering the get-away from the camp; second, those dealing with the march from the camp to the frontier; and, third, those looking to the evasion of the guards at the frontier and the getting across.

I at first busied myself with a scheme whereby I could leave the camp, secretly if possible, but if not secretly, then with a minimum of danger. I came to the conclusion that there was only one way of getting out of the camp undetected and that was by tunneling out. This had been tried by the Russians with more or less success, as mentioned before.

On one occasion they had completed a tunnel and were ready to break through the ground on the outside when an anonymous letter told the commandant of their scheme. Another time a tunnel was built directly under the commandant's office and under the road in front of the camp; but this was discovered before completion and the one prisoner found working in it was awarded eighteen months in a penitentiary for "endangering a military road".

A very successful tunnel had been constructed earlier in the war. Nearly all the prisoners were to leave the camp through it, and seven had actually made their way out when the eighth man, in crawling out of the hole on the outside, made some noise and was discovered by the sentry standing a few feet away. The sentry ran to the spot and prevented any more coming out.

In the four years of the war over fifty prisoners had escaped from Villingen camp, practically all by means of tunnels. Of these, only one crossed safely to Switzerland; and his companion's body was found near the frontier riddled with bullets. I believe they said forty bullet wounds were counted in the corpse. This could hardly be called cheering news!

The construction of a tunnel took several months and there was great danger of discovery at any time. The German newspapers were boasting that their U-boats were still sinking ten thousand tons of Allied shipping per day, and I felt that every day I tarried at Villingen meant that much loss to us—for I had great confidence in my ability to find the holes in our blockade where their submarines were getting through and hoped that we should be able to plug them up. Speed, therefore, was vital to the success of my plans and I looked around for other ways of taking leave.

At one end of the camp the barrack building had been turned into a work-shed and the roof sloped up from the inside to the outside edge. The space between this shed and the outer fence had subsequently been filled by a low building fitted for the housing of rabbits and pigs. Its roof was, perhaps, three feet lower than the roof of the work-shed; but since it abutted, a person could step from one roof to the other without difficulty. The outer edge of the smaller building came to the top of the high barbed-wire fence encircling the camp, and was snug against it; so that any one could drop down from the roof and find himself on the outside of the camp with only the line of sentries to pass. There was one obstacle in the way, however. A piece of barbed wire about three feet high' had been stretched across the roof of the little building, perhaps two feet from the outer edge. It was little more than an impediment to speed, for it would be a simple matter to climb over this wire, land on the edge of the roof, and then jump to the ground less than ten feet below.

I reviewed the whole thing in my mind. I would tell my plan to the other Americans and I was sure that several of them would want to try it. We would build a ladder and by this means climb up to the roof of the work-shed. This could be done without discovery, provided we watched the position of the inside sentry and made no noise. Each man, after climbing to the roof, would lie down in such a way as not to be visible from the outside. When the last man was up we should all rise at a given signal, run up the sloping roof of the work-shed, step down to the next roof, climb the wire, and then jump to the ground. The sentries seeing so many men bearing down on them would be too frightened to fire; and inasmuch as the time from our discovery to our passing them would not be more than five or six seconds, I was sure we should all get away. A short run from that end of the camp would put us out of range of their fire, so the only danger was in the few seconds we should spend in getting over.

I wasted no time in communicating my plans to my fellow prisoners. I convinced them that the scheme was one hundred per cent perfect—in fact, it did hold greater chances of success than all the other plans of escape I made while in prison. Six officers decided to make the attempt with me and so we began our preparations.

Maps and compasses were bought from the Russians for food and money. Tools of different kinds were obtained from the German sentries. Strange as it may seem, I never tried to bribe a guard in vain. In truth, it was our experience that any one in Germany could be bribed, provided you negotiated with him when he was alone. If two were together, nothing could be done with them. A bit pf coffee or tea or a tin of meat would buy a guard to do almost anything, and for a cake of soap one might expect the impossible. We used to say at the camp, "Give me a bar of soap and I will buy the Kaiser’s daughter." The reason why more prisoners do not escape through bribery is because no one guard has it in his power to bring this about without the knowledge of other guards; and since they fear one another, they will engage in nothing that might put them in another German's power.

No material of any kind was ever allowed in a prisoner's possession. For instance, no stick of wood longer than six inches was ever permitted to enter our barracks. This made ladder-building difficult. But in the tennis court there were two wooden battens about eighteen feet long, two and one half inches wide, and one inch thick, held together with two or three cross-pieces to make a marker for the court; and these I depended on for our ladder. I could not remove them, however, until the last minute, or it would be noticed.

Now if the attempt could be made in the darkness we felt the chances of success would be even greater. At Karlsruhe and most of the other camps the electric wires were covered with heavy insulation, but at Villingen they were bare. It looked feasible to throw wires across and short circuit all the lights and so plunge the camp in darkness. But we had no wire. The only thing of its kind was a single strand of flexible wire enclosing the tennis court. So one night one of the officers stole out to the court and brought in to me as much of it as he could tear down. Then I cut it into small lengths and bent them into links about ten inches long. These I connected; and as a result I had four chains about thirty feet long. I used to work with my hands under the bedclothes to avoid discovery by the guards. By the time I had finished the chains my fingers were in shreds, for the wire was sharp and stiff and we had few tools.

All these preparations took several days, and it was about the middle of August before we were ready to make the attempt. We had studied the maps and planned our line of march. Once outside the camp we were to divide up into groups of twos and threes and proceed in that manner to the frontier, no two groups trying to cross at the same point. I paired off with Willis, sub-lieutenant in the Lafayette Escadrille, French Aviation Service, who had been captured fourteen months before, and who, although an American, was the only officer of the French Army in our camp.

We were to take as much food as we could carry, or at least as much as we could escape with. About the last of July I had received my first parcel from the American Red Cross at Berne. It was what they called the "emergency parcel," and it should have contained a complete change of clothing and a large quantity of food. When it arrived all the clothing had been taken out and most of the food. I believe there were two cans of salmon and a few packages of hardtack in the box. Thereafter my parcels came in better condition; and of the eight boxes I received while in Germany, five were practically intact.

Others were less fortunate than I, however. One aviator in particular received in each of five boxes only a few packages of hardtack. But whatever came to the camp was shared by every one; and, especially in an escape, we had no difficulty in obtaining food.

About the time our preparations were completed rainy weather set in. This was ideal for our attempt, because the night would be doubly dark after the lights went out, and because the sentries would be inside their little boxes with their guns slung over their backs; and it would be several seconds before they could be in position to fire.

I remember it was a Thursday night and we were impatiently waiting for eleven o'clock, the hour agreed on, when about nine o'clock the rain ceased and the clouds disappeared. We decided to postpone it. The following morning I was determined to go, no matter what the weather was, so I passed the word to the other six officers that we should go that night.

All was in readiness to go when at the last moment two of the officers decided the plan was too risky. The rest of us debated on what to do. Although that left only five of us and the smaller number lessened our chances of success, I was in favor of going anyway. We finally compromised on the following plan: We should go Monday night and spend the intervening time trying to influence a few more of the officers to make the attempt with us.

When we awoke the following morning a working party of Germans were busy tearing down the small piece of wire over the shed and erecting a barbed-wire fence about twenty feet high all along that end of the yard. There must be some truth in the epigram, "He who hesitates is lost."

CHAPTER XVI
MORE TROUBLES

I WAS deeply chagrined at the loss of such a fine opportunity, but I looked around for other ways and means. We were in daily fear of a search of our clothing and quarters, and it was difficult to find hiding-places for our escape material. My maps and compass I gave to one of the "regular" Russian officers, and he also kept some clothes for me that I expected to wear when I escaped. They looked much less like a uniform than the rags I was wearing at camp; and in case I was seen on the march to the frontier I could perhaps pass as a civilian.

At camp we wore whatever clothes we could get, but if they too closely resembled civilian dress, the Germans would cut a piece about two inches wide out of each trouser leg and insert a piece of brown cloth —which stripe was recognized throughout Germany as identifying the wearer as a prisoner. A similar band of brown was worn around the left sleeve. I obtained a black coat such as is worn by the British "Tommies," and before the escape I was able to dye the band in the left sleeve so that it would not be taken as a prisoner's coat. Willis had smuggled in two packages of black dye and we were able to dye several articles for the other members of our party.

Before trying the last plan of escape I had promised Willis to adopt his scheme in case mine failed. He was our best smuggler and was also a very successful briber, for he could speak German tolerably well. Among his collections were a set of artist's water-colors, some pens, and a magnifying glass. With these assistants he set about duplicating our word-of-honor cards. Instead, however, of writing, "I will not make any attempt to escape," he wrote, "I will now make an attempt to escape," and we "camouflaged" our signatures.

We were to hand these in on a Monday when we went for our walk, and I had the job of smearing them up and treating them roughly so they would look enough like the originals to pass muster.

Willis had done a very clever piece of work and no one could detect the substitution. The Saturday before we were to go, the Russian officers were given a walk and one of them turned in somebody else's card as his own; and dropping out of the formation a mile from camp, headed for the frontier. He was subsequently recaptured, but the system was immediately changed, and thereafter we were required to sign another list in the presence of a German officer, as well as to hand in our cards, every time we took a walk. There was no way of beating that system. It was a big disappointment, and Fate surely seemed to be against us; but we began to try again.

At a certain part of the yard the barracks were discontinued for a distance of thirty yards, and the space between was defended by a high board fence with several feet of barbed wire on top. In the center of the fence was a heavy wooden gate large enough for a team of horses to pass through. The space between this inner fence and the outer one, at this one point about twenty yards across, was used as a garden. It contained growing onions and potatoes.

 

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We conceived the idea of getting through the gate with ladders, crossing the garden, placing the ladders against the outer fence, and going over. -The lights were to be put out as in the first scheme, for we still had the wire chains. Only a means must be found of getting through the gate and of building the ladders. Two infantry officers from our first party were still in the "game" and we had six aviators as recruits. That made ten in all. Willis proposed to make a key for the gate and I planned to build the ladders. It seemed best to put only two officers on each ladder so that meant that five would be needed.

We would line up in the shadow of the fence and when the lights were extinguished would open the gate, rush out, and plant our ladders at intervals along the outer fence. The guards would be unable to tell just where we were and would be greatly confused by the numerous attacks all along the line. In six or eight seconds we should all be over and running toward some trees not far away. It looked like a good plan and some of us at least should get away.

I had a big contract to fill, and at the time I was at a loss to know where the material for those five ladders was to come from. But just about that time several more officers came to the camp and another barrack was opened. There were only a half-dozen officers and the room contained beds for twenty, so I planned to take the wooden slats of the beds not in use and by splitting them make the sides for the ladders. The rungs would be tops and sides of Red Cross food boxes which we should have to steal from the Germans.

It would be impossible to nail the rungs to the sides, for the noise would attract the guards, so we went through the camp on a "still hunt" for screws. In a few days the slats were split, put back on the empty beds, and covered with the mattress springs. A large number of tops of food boxes were stolen and holes bored in each end. Over a hundred screws were collected from all the doors in the camp and all that remained for me to do was to assemble this material.

The Russian officers occupied the barracks near the gate through which we expected to make our exit, and all this material would have to be taken to one of their rooms and assembled there near the place where we were to use them. The guards in the yard would have become suspicious had we carried them through the camp preparatory to using them. We found one senior officer's room occupied by a "regular" army lieutenant (Russian), and when he heard our plans he was insistent that we use his room; although if discovered he had everything to lose and nothing to gain.

The night set for the attempt Willis was to have his key completed, and I, assisted by some of the other officers, was to carry the ladder material to the Russian's room and assemble it a few minutes before the escape. It was a perfect night for our plan, dark and windy. Willis had been unable to give the key the final test before dark owing to the position of the inside sentry, who hovered around that part of the yard, but as he expected no trouble with it I went ahead with the ladders. Accompanied by two of the aviators I collected the slats in a pile, threw a large blanket around them, and picking them up walked hurriedly through the yard to the Russian officer's room.

The slats were six feet long, eight inches wide, and one inch thick. When split, irregularly, it is true, they were not so cumbersome, and when turned on edge would support a man's weight. The fence being ten feet high made it necessary to take two pieces for each side, overlap them a foot or more, and screw them together.

The bundle of twenty pieces made a parcel six feet long and eighteen inches in diameter, and was very noticeable even with a blanket over it, but we kept informed of the actions of the sentry and moved only when he was engaged elsewhere. In this way we arrived at our objective. We were laying out our material when some one burst into the room and told us that the key would not fit.

Willis had done fine work with a piece of lead fashioned into a key, but there was one little dog in the lock that it was impossible to find. Consequently the lock would not turn. There was nothing to do but leave the slats in the room, hide them as best we could behind the locker, and leave. We hoped to fathom the mystery of the lock in a day or two, anyway, and did not expect the delay to be dangerous.

Not one half-hour later, a Russian officer broke through that same gate in some manner, carried a ladder to the outside fence, and climbed over. He was shot at, but escaped. The battalion of three hundred men with several hounds were put on his trail, but he was not recaptured until several days later.

In the meantime the guard inside the yard was doubled and remained so thereafter One sentry was placed near that gate and never ventured away from it. All the weaker electric lamps on the circuit outside the camp were replaced by one hundred and two hundred watt lamps, and this made the vicinity of the fences as light as day. As if this were not enough, a few days later a search of all the Americans and their quarters was ordered by the commandant. Just before it happened we heard rumors about it, so I hid my tools, which by this time made a very respectable chest, the wire chains, the cross-pieces for the ladders, and the screws wherever I could find a good hiding-place.

The tools went into the ashes of our little cook-stove; the wire chains into the chimney; the cross-pieces into the woodpile; and the screws we scattered in the yard in various places where they could be found again. In a day or two they were rusty and looked just like the gravel in which they lay.

The search came without further warning. A soldier blowing a fog-horn aroused us from our barracks, and we were then herded together in the center of the yard. Certain ones, mostly aviators, were then picked out and sent to the assembly hall where they were searched. On one man was found a map sewed in the double seat of his trousers. He was given six days' solitary confinement in a cell for this. Two others had contraband on their persons, one a compass and a can of pepper, the other a heavy knife. The one with the knife leisurely drew it from his pocket and laid it on the window-sill. It was not noticed. The other, while waiting his turn to be searched, sauntered over to the wall where a broken guitar was hanging, and taking it down began to thrum the strings; and, although the guards were watching him closely, he managed to drop both compass and can into the hole of the soundingbox.

The real hard luck came in one of the barracks. Here they found several compasses and maps, and finally noticed that the bed slats on some of the beds were missing. Then began a general search of the whole camp which culminated in their finding our precious ladder material in the Russian officer's room. He affected surprise and indignation when it was found, so they could not fasten the blame. It was severe blow to me, however, and for the first time I was discouraged.

We lived a lifetime of hope and fear in the making of each of those plans and to see them fail one by one was truly disheartening. It was at this time my fortunes reached their lowest ebb, but they were destined soon to brighten with the never dying hope of success.

CHAPTER XVII
THE ENLISTED MEN

BY the first of October the enemy had captured about two thousand of our soldiers. They were scattered throughout Germany in hospitals, prison camps, and farms. Over one thousand were in the concentration camp at Rastatt a few miles south of Karlsruhe; and just before I made my last and successful attempt to escape, six young soldiers who were convalescing from wounds, were sent from there to Villingen to act as orderlies for the American officers. From them we learned o$ the conditions at Rastatt.

It seems they were treated fairly well by the Germans once they had arrived at the camp. The Red Cross had sent large quantities of food to Rastatt in anticipation of their arrival and also a good stock of clothing. The men were expected to work and many were sent to the fields near by while others did duty around the camp. Every so often a party would be sent to another part of Germany where they would be put "in commando"; that is, loaned to farmers to work in their fields, reporting frequently to the district authorities. In this case they were not guarded closely and were able to get better food than if they remained at a camp. Their treatment was at times, rather harsh, as I learned from one little private who escaped from the farm where he was working. It depended naturally on the character of the men for whom they worked.

Those working on the big farms of the landed class, or nobles, were usually guarded in military fashion, for there were so many of them. A few old "Landsturmers" armed with rifles would stand guard over a group of laborers; but often the guards would lay down their guns, pick up a farm implement, and help in the harvest. These peaceful-looking old men could be turned into demons in the twinkling of an eye, however, by the mere suspicion that some one was planning to escape. The fear of the punishment to be meted out to them, if their prisoners escaped, would render them insane; and then their inherent brutality would assert itself and their subsequent actions would be those of madmen. I had a sample of this when I jumped from the train. Another American officer also jumped from a moving train in daylight and was recaptured before he had gone a hundred yards from the train. The guards beat him with their guns, in driving him back to the coach, all the while the German officer in charge of the transport smilingly looking on. Thereafter, when Americans were being transported from one camp to another their shoes were taken from them.

Another instance of brutality that I observed was at Villingen. One morning a Russian orderly declared himself too sick to work. The next thing I saw was a guard beating him on the head and body with a gun. When he lay on the ground, more dead than alive, they dragged him by the collar of his clothes to the guard-house fifty yards away. The Russian officer who inquired into his case found that the punishment awarded to the poor fellow was forty days' solitary confinement with food every fourth day. I had no way of knowing if the sentence was ever executed.

A sergeant was the senior non-commissioned officer among the American soldiers at Rastatt. When the Germans compelled one of our soldiers to distribute their propaganda newspapers, " America in Europe " and "The Continental Times," both the soldier and the sergeant went to the commandant and not only protested against it, but told him they refused even to touch those papers again. The soldiers with whom I talked could not say if any corporal punishment was administered to our two heroes—all they knew was that both of them disappeared from camp about four o'clock the following morning.

It was at th front and coming back through the German lines that the treatment of both officers and men was most terrible. Rings, watches, helmets, boots, and even trousers and coats were torn from their bodies. And not only privates were responsible for this, but even German officers also. Our men were marched back from town to town, sometimes sleeping in barbed-wire enclosures with no protection from the driving rain, and with no food of any kind for days. Sometimes they would pass a barrel of soup and the guards would allow them to fall out, find a tin can, and help themselves to a drink. The cans were usually dirty and rusty and full of holes, but by pressing their fingers over the leaks they made fair cups.

That was when, as both officers and enIisted men told me, they regretted their waste of the rations at the front. Their thoughts went back to the trenches and dugouts paved with canned beef which they had left a few days before—they spurned such common food, but it made good paving-blocks. Less than a week later they would have sold their very souls for one can of that "bully beef."

Often immediately after capture they would be under the fire of our own batteries, and the Germans would then compel them to walk in the roads or woods which were being shelled. The cold, rainy weather added further to their misery—there is a great difference between a full and an empty stomach when undergoing hardships.

The food given the enlisted men at the prison camps was practically the same as that given the officers. Fortunately they, like us, did not have to depend on the German ration; for the Red Cross food finally arrived in sufficiently large quantities.

The Russians tell the story of a fine turkey dinner they almost had at one of the large camps in the North of Germany. Two hundred turkeys were sent to the camp, but when the prisoners sat down to dinner they found the flesh so decomposed that it could not be eaten. The turkeys were marked for the German Army, but apparently, when it was found that they were spoiled, the authorities decided to send them to a prison camp. I suppose a copy of that day's menu was sent to all the embassies in Berlin.

One day, while I was serving my two weeks' sentence in the cell at Villingen, a guard brought me a dish of excellent looking fish. I was hungry and literally pounced on it. I had already cut off a large piece, when in looking more closely I saw several long white worms crawling through the food. That ended my banquet.

From what I saw of the treatment of prisoners of the different nationalities I should say that the Americans were not treated quite as harshly as the British "Tommies," who were hated intensely by the Germans, nor so leniently as the French. No matter with whom I spoke in Germany I always drew the same conclusions; in their opinion the German prisoners in England and America were treated very well, but those in France were treated abominably. "Yes," they would say, "our poor people in France are treated terribly, terribly." But it was a fact that the French prisoners in Germany received the best treatment awarded to any prisoners. We used to account for this by the fact that "might" meant "right" according to their psychology, and that the only virtue they recognized was force. Therefore, they had a most wholesome respect for the "force" displayed by the French. The latter had a wonderful system of espionage at work in Germany, and whenever any prisoner was mistreated they knew of it and retaliated immediately.

The few times the British adopted this policy it brought satisfactory results. For instance, when Germany threatened to shoot the aviator who dropped Allied propaganda in Germany, England answered with " two of yours for every one of ours," or words to that effect. Our stand in the "shot-gun" episode also produced the desired result.

In October and November there was an investigation by Parliament into the treatment of British captives in Germany. It was disclosed that those who had escaped and also those who had been repatriated had been forbidden, upon their arrival in England, to tell of their inhuman and utterly shameful treatment in Germany.

I have since read in the London newspapers that England will demand the punishment of all those Germans who mishandled prisoners. "All we want," said a Cabinet member, "is the names of the culprits"—as if I or any one experiencing similar treatment could give the names of our guards. We know of a few cases of cruelty reaching from a single blow to murder. Think of the cases we do not know about; those that have not come through and never will. And what a multitude of sins is covered by that one word "missing"!

CHAPTER XVIII
THE ESCAPE

CONDITIONS at Villingen were much worse after the search. We were watched very closely and it looked as if any plan we might make would be discovered before it could be put into effect. I was completely discouraged, but continued my exercise to keep in good physical condition.

About this time I received my first mail from home. I had been a prisoner four months and I knew that letters had been written me from the first. Although they arrived late they were very welcome and put new hope in me. In every letter I found the same words: " I am praying that you will be home by Christmas." With that incentive I determined that I would be home by Christmas.

Some aviators had just come in from the castle prison at Landshut. They told of several attempts to escape from the castle and also from the train on the way down.
The German commandant at Landshut had their shoes taken from them every night; and when an attempt to escape proved unsuccessful he would punish them with two or three weeks of solitary confinement in a cell until whatever sentence was awarded by the Bavarian Government should arrive. This was usually eight days' solitary confinement; and although they would already have served double their sentence he would keep them in the cell eight days more.

On one occasion he placed two aviators in solitary confinement on the mere suspicion that they were going to try to escape. Such procedure was unheard of. The two Americans threatened dire things and finally wrote the Danish, the Dutch, and the Spanish Embassies demanding that steps be taken to procure their release. When the commandant saw these letters he was thoroughly "bluffed," and released them immediately after a stay of nine days in the cell.

But the more attempts were made, though unsuccessful, the more we learned what not to do; and by the time the last attempt was made we were all experienced veterans in the escape game.

On October 5th we heard that two days later all the Russians at Villingen were to be shifted to other camps in the North of Germany. With the Russians out of the way, a perfect watch could be kept on us at all times; and our hiding-places for contraband would be reduced to the few nooks in our barracks and to holes in the ground. Besides, the day after their departure, we should have a search so thorough as to make it practically impossible to save any of our escape material. As it was the dark of the moon, conditions seemed to favor our making one last effort to get away before the Russians left.

The night of October 5th one of the aviators and I, having collected and sharpened most of the pocket-knives in the camp, made our way to a shed behind the mess hall and attempted to cut through it. Before we had proceeded far, however, we realized that it could not be done in one night; and the cutting would surely be noticed the following day, even though we were so fortunate as not to be seen, while working, by the inside guards. So, abandoning that plan, we crawled unobserved to the tennis court; and then, picking up the long markers, we straightened up and walked boldly to my barrack as if it were the most natural thing in the world. We were not noticed. Once inside, the markers were laid on the floor lengthwise under several of the beds; and as it was then nearly eleven o'clock and "Taps," we waited until the morrow to complete our plans.

Sunday, October 6th, the day before the Russians were to leave, I called a meeting in my barrack of all those Americans whom I knew to be interested in a plan of escape. After stating my reasons for doing so, I insisted that we go that night. Every one agreed, and we debated on the best plans to adopt.

By this time we had several pairs of wire-cutters and other tools, so we decided to get out of our barracks or through the inside fence at different parts of the camp, and then cut through or go over the outer fence. This would confuse the sentries, and the first ones out would draw their fire and thus give the others a better chance to cut through. The lights were to be short-circuited and a diversion was to be created in a different part of the yard by a few Russian officers whom we could trust.

I chose to build a bridge with the tennis court markers, cut the grating in my window, and when the lights went out, launch the bridge through the window to the outer fence and crawl over. Two of the aviators, Lieutenant Battle and Lieutenant Tucker, cast in their lot with me. The second team, consisting of three infantrymen and one aviator, proposed to cut the grating in a window of the next barrack, climb over the ditch with its little fence, and then cut through the outer wire by using the wire cutters. A third team, consisting of two aviators, decided to adopt the same plan as the second team; except that instead of cutting through the outer fence they were to build a ladder of bed-slats, carry it out through the window, and then by means of it climb over the high wire. Willis and three other aviators planned to disguise themselves as German soldiers, cut through a plain wire fence that surrounded the guard-house, and then, when the guard off duty should rush out the main gate in answer to the firing at us, to mingle with them and go out at the same time.

All afternoon my two comrades and I cut, filed, and bent the iron grating in the lower half of my window while the guards were at the far end of their beats. By dark we had every wire parted except one half inch iron rod which ran from top to bottom in the center of the window. This was too thick to file in that short space of time, so, as it was embedded in wood at the bottom, we decided to leave it until the lights went out; and then one of us, by putting all his strength against it, could wrench it out and bend it up out of the way. Although the wires were parted, we left the ends as near together as possible, in order not to make the cutting visible to the guards on the outside.

Roll-call was at 7 P.M. and by that time it was completely dark. Immediately afterwards we commenced work on the bridge. Watchers were posted at the windows and door of the barrack while we worked behind a row of lockers. The battens were turned on their sides. Tops of Red Cross food boxes, taken from their hiding-place in the woodpile, were screwed to the battens with the screws collected some time before. We worked quietly and rapidly and although our hands were badly blistered by the screw-drivers, we had the bridge completed by ten o'clock. It was about fifteen inches wide and looked fairly solid. It should have been, for the screws were from two to four inches long, and we had to screw them all the way in, or otherwise our clothes might catch on them as we crawled over. I had laid in a stock of shoe-blacking, and with this and my toothbrush we blackened the bridge so that it would not appear light in the darkness. Two stools were placed under the ends of the bridge and we then tested it. It sagged badly in the middle and would hardly hold my weight—and one of the aviators was heavier than I. But the distance from the window-ledge to the outer fence was only fifteen feet and the bridge was eighteen feet long, so that would leave three feet inside when it was in place. By putting sufficient weight on the inside end, our weight in the center of the bridge, as we crawled over, would be balanced at least in part. We then drew lots to see the order in which we were to go over, and Tucker, the smallest of the three, drew first place; I came next; and Battle, the heaviest man, came last. This was very fortunate, for if the bridge broke under my weight or with the heaviest man, one at least would get out.

When all was in readiness we stripped off our clothing, greased our bodies with lard saved for several weeks, and then put on whatever clothes we had that looked at all like civilian dress. In one pocket of my coat I put my maps; in another, my compass and pepper; and in the other two, a few French biscuits, some sausage, and some sweet chocolate. Unfortunately I lost most of the food out of my pocket while running a few minutes later.

The other teams were busy making their preparations, but by half-past ten all were ready. We brought out the wire chains and gave them to four of the officers who were to throw them over the lighting wires in different parts of the yard. They took up their position casually and waited for the signal. This was to be given by another officer, who, standing under a large electric light in the center of the camp, would bend his body three times as soon after ten-thirty as the position of the inside sentries warranted. It was hoped that all of those who aided us would be able to get back to their barracks unobserved after the "show" was over.

At ten-thirty the lights inside the barracks were turned out as usual. Our bridge was then brought near the window and two officers who were to aid us took their stations at either side of it preparatory to launching it through the window. The bridge weighed only about fifty pounds, but was so long as to be unwieldy, so we greased the under-side of the battens in order to have it slide out over the window ledge with a minimum of friction and noise.

At ten-forty-five the camp was suddenly plunged in darkness to the accompaniment of rattling chains. I jumped to the window, grasped the iron rod, and tore it from its wooden socket. It came with a crash carrying with it the severed grating. It took but a second to bend it up out of the way, but as I did so the lights came on again. Our helpers had the bridge almost to the ledge, but I pushed it down in time to avoid its being seen by the sentries, who, astonished by the strange happenings, were standing in their tracks openmouthed with wonder. They had heard noises, but had seen nothing except the sudden darkness.

The lights had no sooner come on than out they went again, and this continued for perhaps ten seconds that seemed instead like hours. I understood at once what had happened. One of the circuits had the positive and negative wires directly over each other; and the chain, after being thrown over the top wire, swung back and forth, only occasionally touching the lower wire. I knew it would take only a few seconds to heat up the fuse before it would "blow," but this delay almost upset our plans. The sentries were too stupid, however, to guess what was taking place.

As we crouched there, waiting, I could hear a perfect din in the far corner of the yard: it was the demonstration being made by our Russian friends. It undoubtedly drew many sentries, but those outside our window seemed too stupefied to move.

Finally the lights went off and stayed off; and then we worked swiftly. The bridge was shot through the window and landed in perfect position on the outer fence, making a resounding twang as it struck. Tucker crawled on the bridge and made his way carefully across, while the guards, who by this time had begun to realize what was happening, called out, "Halt! Halt!" several times in rapid succession. I followed him, as the two helpers put their weight on the inside end, and thus raised up the center of the span. I must have flown across, for when I arrived at the end over the fence Tucker was just dropping down. I dropped down beside him as the guards shouted "Halt!" for the last time and prepared to fire.

When we dropped to the ground we whirled and ran away from the camp and past the guards who had approached to within a few feet on either side of the end of the bridge. As we did so, both guards fired; and the one on my right had the end of his rifle so close to my head that the flash seemed to singe my hair. But neither of us was hit; so, running bent double and zigzagging, we continued away from the camp. Then I heard Battle jump from the bridge to the ground; and calling out, "Follow me," I headed for the top of the slope three hundred yards away.

The first shots were the signal for a volley from the guards all along that side of the fence; and during the next few minutes there was a regular hail of bullets sprinkling the side of the hill. But as we were mere shadows only a little blacker than the darkness and moving swiftly, we soon were completely blended with the surrounding obscurity.

CHAPTER XIX
ON THE WAY

ABOUT two miles south of the camp was a landmark called the "Hun's Grave." Tradition says that when Attila and his Huns overran Europe one of the barbarians leaders died on this spot and was immediately interred. They dug down perhaps fifty feet, lowered the body in its rough casket, and filled up the hole again in such a way as to deceive any one looking for the grave. Centuries later, however, excavations were made and the casket found. It was shipped to Karlsruhe, the capital of Baden, where it is now on exhibition in the Museum. The dirt, left as excavated, formed a huge mound with a hollow center, much like the crater of a volcano; and, being on the top of a hill, it could be seen for miles. Even at night the mound, silhouetted against the sky, was visible for over a mile.

It was this landmark that Willis and I chose for a rendezvous, and toward it I ran until too tired to do more than walk. But a few minutes after leaving the camp I reached the grave, and then sat down in a clump of bushes and waited, calling out guardedly my own name at frequent intervals—for this was the signal agreed upon.

Tucker and Battle had passed me in the darkness keeping on toward a rendezvous of their own, and I had no way of knowing if Willis had escaped. I did hear a few scattered shots, however, when I was about a mile from camp; but that meant nothing to me, for I was very much accustomed to that sound just then. Apparently none of the other teams had broken through—at least I saw no sign of them and all the firing seemed to be directed at our team.

I must have waited fully five minutes at the rendezvous and still no sign of Willis. So, calling my name two or three times and receiving no answer, I decided to press on in the direction in which we had planned. I could wait no longer, for even now the battalion, three hundred strong, might be on my trail and their hounds would lead them unerringly. I had crossed a field and was skirting a woods when I heard a slight. sound behind me. I stopped to listen, but heard nothing more. It was probably the patter of raindrops on the fallen leaves, for it had just begun to mist. No time could be lost, so I continued on. I had not gone far when again that rustling sound was heard. This time I waited several seconds; and sure enough, some one was following me, for there was the unmistakable sound of swishing clothes. I stepped noiselessly into the brush and waited for my pursuer to pass. Soon he came along, and I could see his dark form only a few feet from me. He was wearing a raincoat, and that is what caused the noise I heard. The thought at once came to me that a guard on my trail would hardly be wearing a raincoat; so I called out my name in a very low tone of voice. The figure stopped and quickly sidestepped into the bushes a few yards ahead of me; but no answer came. After waiting some moments I again called out, this time distinctly. "Willis!" came back a shout of joy. I was never before so elated over meeting a fellow human being.

Together we continued the march. Over hills, through rivers, and into swamps, heading a little west of south, with one eye on the compass, the other on the ground, we tramped until daylight. At times we were in water up to our shoulders; and even when on dry ground the going was difficult, for our shoes were filled with water and our clothes so wet they restricted the movement of our legs. Occasionally in the darkness we would step into holes or suddenly feel the ground drop from under us as a bank or low precipice came in our path. We had many bad falls, but had to keep going, as distance that first night was vital. When it looked feasible we would stop, cover our trail with pepper, then double back, and jump as far as possible off to one side to throw the dogs off the scent. They will not take the trail after once sniffing pepper, and it is then necessary to put another dog on the trail where the first one left it. This delays the pursuers considerably, and accounts for the fact that pepper was considered contraband by the Germans and denied to all prisoners. They always removed the pepper from our Red Cross boxes, but we were able to steal some in spite of all their precautions.

In crossing rivers we would walk a considerable distance up the bed of the stream and try to step on rocks when coming out of the water on the opposite side. A hard surface like stone or iron will not retain a scent for any great length of time; whereas it will hang around damp grass indefinitely.

Often we were startled by sentinel-like trees standing alone in the fields: in the gloom they so closely resembled the guards, who we knew were by this time searching for us. We never walked in the roads, but always in the forest or through the fields; never crossed bridges, but always swam or forded the rivers; and never made the slightest noise it was possible to avoid. When we spoke, which was seldom, it was always in whispers; and we never coughed from the moment we left the camp until we were safely in Switzerland.

We had planned to cross from the headwaters of the Danube, through the mountains and the heart of the Black Forest, or Schwarzwald, in a southwesterly direction to the Rhine, which in that part of the country forms the boundary between Germany and Switzerland. Villingen was situated on the Brigach River, which, a few miles to the south, unites with the Brege to form the Danube. We expected to swim the Rhine at a point forty miles in a straight line from Villingen and knew that meant a march of about one hundred and twenty miles. We proposed to do it in six days. Had we wished, we could have marched straight to the south and met the Swiss border at the Schaffhausen salient, only eighteen miles from Villingen; or we could have continued southward to the east of Waldshut, where the Rhine is a much smaller stream, and where we should have had easy going all the way. But by adopting either of those two plans we should have been following the beaten trail—the way that most prisoners had gone and where most had been recaptured.
For the Schaffhausen salient is north of the Rhine and the frontier there has no natural barrier; so the Germans had stationed three lines of sentries on their side of the border, spaced so closely as to make it almost impossible to break through. Besides, all the country to the south of Villingen and to the east of Waldshut was patrolled by sentries—especially the roads leading south and the bridges over the rivers. To the west of Waldshut the Rhine doubles in size, owing to the addition of the Aare River which drains the northern half of Switzerland and which flows into the Rhine near that town. Also, the country to the west is very rough; and few prisoners attempt those mountains. For these reasons we chose the hard but sure way.

About 6 A.M., the morning after we escaped, we climbed down a rocky cliff, skirted the village of Unterbrand, and there in the edge of the forest found a thicket and prepared to camp for the day. We had walked about twenty-five miles and had put twelve good miles between us and the camp; so we rested secure in our hiding-place. We took turns at sleeping, and each of us managed to get perhaps two hours of sleep. The sun reached us for a short time and partly dried our clothes; so we were almost comfortable.

Suddenly about I P.M. we heard the distant baying of hounds, and for the next hour we were in mortal dread of discovery. The baying grew louder and louder; and finally we could tell there were several hounds that apparently had followed our trail and were approaching the village we had skirted early that morning. They kept coming closer until it seemed only the village separated us; but at last they must have received a setback, for they came no nearer and seemed to be running up and down uttering baffled whines. We conjectured that they had lost the trail where we climbed down the cliff. The sounds of the pursuit then became less audible and soon were lost to us entirely. From that time on we had no further experience with hounds.

There were numerous children playing in the forest, however, and on many occasions they almost ran us down. The Schwarzwald is rather thickly populated when one considers the very small area of soil that is tillable. Every few miles there is a village consisting of twenty or thirty houses; and small farms surround the homes. These villages are mere clearings in the pine forest; and as there are no lone houses scattered throughout the country the "cover" is excellent, and it is easy to avoid meeting people. Of course at times we would run upon towns in the darkness and would have some difficulty in getting out unobserved. But we were very fortunate.

One night about eleven o'clock, while walking along the edge of a road in a driving rain, we passed a man walking in the opposite direction. He was just as anxious to avoid us as we were him, so both parties kept on going.

The food we had was so very little that it was necessary to look for some in the fields. We had no trouble in finding cabbage, potatoes, turnips, and other vegetables which, in the raw state, formed our chief articles of diet during that week.

Early the fourth night we came to the Alb River, a tributary of the Rhine, the west bank of which we proposed to follow down to where it flowed into the Rhine. We were below St. Blasien, a famous summer resort, and tried to cross there, but were on the heights probably two hundred feet above the river and had no way of getting down. We finally decided to pick our way down the side of the cliff; and, although it was slow work and somewhat nerve-racking, we were successful. In looking up from the bottom after it was all over, it seemed impossible that we had been able to cling to that vertical wall of rock and to lower ourselves down.

We followed the stream after crossing it, but soon came to logging camps, summer hotels, electric power plants, and breweries, all built between the west bank of the river and the high cliffs. After walking over front porches, under driveways, and through barns, we decided that that was too risky, so we scaled the cliffs; and then, leaving the river behind, we made our way through the mountains.

It was very difficult walking. We would sometimes be lost for hours in a gorge and could not find our way out. Instead of going south we would at times find ourselves heading north, because the mountains were passable only at certain places, and we would walk in circles trying to find the passes. Every few hundred yards was a mountain torrent and every torrent meant a difficult gorge or ravine. The cold was intense, and especially was this true of the daytime when we would lie in each other's arms trying to keep warm. We would cut down great quantities of spruce limbs and make beds for ourselves, but the cold would find its way in just the same.

Every morning we would be so exhausted from the hard walking and the lack of proper food, that as soon as we had found a hiding-place, we would drop down where we stood and immediately be in a deep sleep. After an hour or two of this the cold would awaken us, and we would then get up, sit close together, and throw over our heads the raincoat Willis had brought along. Our warm breath would soon fill the substitute tent and in this way we were able to keep up circulation.

One morning, after an exceptionally hard night, we had fallen where we stood and were both in a heavy sleep. Suddenly I was awakened by a voice. I sat up and to my horror found that Willis was delirious. He was babbling incoherently and seemed to have a high fever. I soothed him as well as I could, and in a few hours he was almost normal. In that week, however, I watched his hair turn almost white. Had we not been in excellent health, neither of us would ever have survived that terrible trip with its dramatic ending.

CHAPTER XX
THE RHINE

OUR maps showed us that the only railroad we should meet after the second night was a line that paralleled the Rhine and was only a short distance from it. Few trains in Germany were allowed to run (during the war) between the hours of 11P.M. and sunrise; so we feared we might come upon the track in the darkness without having heard any movement of trains. The railroad embankment seemed a likely place for a line of sentries, so it was necessary that we approach it with caution.

About daybreak the morning of the sixth day, just as we were looking for a place to hide, the whistle of a locomotive was heard; so we decided to keep on until we were in a position where we could observe the railroad track and the bank of the river, and, if possible, the lines of sentries patrolling both. In this way we hoped to discover the number of the sentries, their positions and beats, and the hours the watch was changed; for this information would aid us in try-in" to elude them.

Accordingly, although it was daylight, we kept on past some farms in which the women were already working. We crawled along, obtaining "cover" where possible, but the forest had thinned considerably in the last mile or two, and soon ceased altogether. We took up our position in the brush which extended farthest to the south and therefore nearest to our objective, and awaited developments.

It was about 8 A.M. and a thin veil of fog hung over the country in front of us, but by nine o'clock it had lifted and revealed our position to us. We were on the edge of a large clearing which apparently extended to the Rhine about a mile away. We could not see the river, for the country was rolling and sloped rather sharply to the south, but occasionally we would hear a passing train and see the smoke rise from a hollow, which we took to be the cut of the railway line.

A little to the left of us, and occupying most of the space between our hiding place and the river, lay the little town of Hauenstein. All day long pedestrians passed our clump of bushes within two feet of us as we sat behind some " camouflaged " brush and peered through trying to see the sentries. We were unsuccessful, owing to the nature of the terrain, but we laid our plans for the evening from what little information we did obtain, and then prepared for sleep.

Perhaps all week long we had slept a total of not more than ten or twelve hours and were badly in need of a little rest, before undertaking the hard work ahead of us. Willis lay down first while I sat beside him and watched. Only a few minutes later one of the passers-by, instead of following the path outside the brush, broke through and walked past us at a distance of about ten feet. He looked directly at me, but continued on into the woods. I noticed that he had a sack in his hands and was probably picking beech nuts, for we had seen several children doing the same thing the past few days. I wondered why he did not immediately give the alarm, but happened to think of the cap I was wearing and then understood. I had the cap Willis had worn the night of the escape; and as it looked very much like a German soldier's cap, it probably deceived the man who had just seen it. Only the upper part of my body was visible to him, and Willis was behind me; so I was sure he was not suspicious. We took no chances, however, but crawled away into a denser part of the forest and lay there until dark.

About seven o'clock that evening we removed our clothing, greased our bodies with lard, and then dressed for the last stage of our journey. We donned short tights and jerseys and securely fastened them to our bodies. Then we pulled on trousers and stockings which we rubbed in mud to darken them, and over our shoulders we loosely hung our khaki shirts. Coats, hats, and shoes were discarded, our hands and faces covered with black dirt, and at eight o'clock we left our hiding place; crawling noiselessly on our hands and knees we cautiously traversed the fields between us and the Rhine. The village of Hauenstein was passed on our left; and great care was taken in crossing the roads leading into the town. When we reached the railroad we listened for the tramp of sentries, but finding everything quiet, crossed the tracks with little noise and continued on.

About fifty yards from the railway we came to the edge of a cliff and lay there listening. From below came the sound of lapping water and the steady, measured tread of a sentry walking his beat. But we could find no way of getting down. We crept slowly along the edge of the cliff, stopping every few feet to listen, and trying to find a place where it was passable. Willis would lower me down the side as far as his arms would reach, and I would try to dig my toes into a crevice or any place they could penetrate.

After traversing nearly two miles, and passing twice through the edge of the village, we were no nearer the river than when we first reached the cliff. We found several places where paths or trails and even roads led down to the Rhine, but these places were so closely guarded by sentries that it would have been folly to attempt to get past. A heavy fog was depositing its moisture on us and on the grass through which we crawled, and we were wet to the skin, but the impenetrable gloom prevented our being seen, so was a decided advantage.

After three hours of vain attempts to negotiate the cliff, we decided to make a detour and try to intercept a mountain stream we had seen that morning, and follow it down to its mouth. All the mountain torrents—and there are many in this vicinity—flow into the Rhine with a tremendous force and the noise of rushing water. We felt that we could do better in the bed of the stream where any sound we might make would hardly be heard above the roar of the falls; so when we came to the creek we bent to our knees and made our way down its center. In places the water was up to our waists; at others only a few inches covered the rock-strewn bed. On our hands and knees, trying to keep only our heads above water, we slowly made our way along, carefully testing each stone before we ventured to put our weight on it.

Midnight had struck—all the village church-bells in Germany strike the hours —and there were no lights anywhere. We had only a half-mile to go, but it took nearly two hours to accomplish it. Our hands and knees and the soles of our feet were cut by the sharp rocks; and the water felt like ice to our badly nourished bodies. Besides the physical torture, the mental strain we were under was terrible. Every instant we were in the gravest danger of discovery; we knew that sentries were but a few yards away and a single misstep would mean capture.

Once, when passing under a viaduct patrolled by sentries, one of us must have made a noise sufficiently loud to be heard above. Instantly a searchlight was thrown on the creek and a minute inspection took place. We stood still with only our heads above water. These covered with mud were of the same color as the surrounding rocks, and the guards were too far away to tell the difference. At intervals the searchlight was again flashed, but between the flashes we were able to pass through the danger zone unseen.

Finally we came to the mouth of the torrent, where, with a splashing and roaring, the waters of the creek threw themselves into the Rhine. My watch showed a few minutes before two. A cold wind had sprung up and was driving the fog before it down the river. This was an advantage; for, with complete darkness, there was some danger of being turned around and swimming back to the German shore. With the fog lifted we could at least see the direction in which we wished to go.

We did not know how wide the Rhine was at this point, but thought perhaps one hundred yards. As we learned later from the Swiss guards it measures seven hundred feet across, has a current of seven miles an hour, and is filled with whirlpools caused by the numerous mountain streams which hurl themselves into the river from the hills and mountains on either side.

As we crouched in the water a few feet from the bank we debated in whispers how we were to swim and when we should remove our clothes. I asked Willis a question and he did not answer. When I turned to look for him he was nowhere to be seen. Without a word of warning he had disappeared from where he stood within a foot of me as if the earth had opened up and swallowed him. It was terrifying, but I busied myself in getting off my outer clothing. I was just pulling off my trousers when I must have stepped a few inches farther out into the stream. With a powerful blow the current struck me and I was swept away toward the center of the river. I swam the "breast" stroke, in order not to be heard by the sentries along the shore, and headed across. It was easy work and I made rapid progress until the center of the stream was reached. Then the fight began.

I seemed to be borne along with terrific speed, and although I used different strokes, none seemed to gain me anything over that powerful current. The water was very cold and the exposure during the preceding six hours had sapped most of my strength. I kept fighting until I thought I could go no farther. Down the river in the distance I could see a high point of land extending out into the stream. This made it appear to me that the Rhine at that point must bend toward the south; and if that were true, I knew I had to reach the shore before the point was reached and before the waters, sliding off the Swiss bank at a tangent, should carry me with them back toward the center again.

Mustering all my strength I made a final effort and succeeded in passing through the worst part of the center. But the exertion took the last of my strength; and although the shore loomed up less than thirty yards away, I could go no farther. So turning over on my back I commended my soul to my God and closed my eyes. Instantly my feet touched the rocks.

For a few minutes I lay there gasping for breath and trying to find words for a proper thanksgiving; then, after making four or five unsuccessful attempts to rise, I dragged myself up the sloping shore to a railroad embankment a few feet above.
There, standing in my bare feet on the sharp rocks of the railroad bed in a howling wind, I took off my tights and jersey, wrung out the water, and replaced them. It was 2:30 A.M. on Sunday, October I3, I9I8, the seventh day after my escape from Villingen, and I was free at last; so what mattered a few sharp rocks cutting into my wounded feet?

 

CONCLUSION

I KNEW that when once I placed foot on Swiss soil my troubles were at an end and I had nothing more to fear. A prisoner escaping to a neutral country has no military or naval status, but is simply a citizen of the country from which he originally comes—his native land. So by giving himself up to the police, he runs no risk of internment, unless he cannot prove his right to asylum or has no passport.

When I had regained sufficient strength I walked up the railroad track to a road, which I followed a short distance until I came to a house. After knocking and assuring the occupants that I was only an escaped American prisoner, I was taken in and treated with the utmost kindness. The owner of the house, a Swiss customs guard, at my request went out to search for Willis, and found him in a small tavern about two miles down the river where he had just applied for admittance. It seems that the current had swept him off his feet before he had removed all his clothes, and of course he could not cry out to warn me because of the nearness of the sentries. He, too, had fought a terrible battle to get across.

As neither Willis nor I had passports, we were taken by Swiss gendarmes to Bern, the capital, and turned over to the American Embassy, where we were provided with the necessary papers. There we found that only one other officer of the thirteen who had been in the escape, had succeeded in reaching safety: he was Lieutenant Puryear, of the third team. The others who had managed to get outside the camp were probably recaptured. One American soldier also escaped to Switzerland about this time, and we four were the first ones of the American forces to escape from Germany up to the 15th of October.

In possession of our passports we had no trouble in leaving the country. At Paris I left the others and proceeded alone to London, where I reported to Vice-Admiral Sims, commander of the American Naval Forces in Europe.

The day after my report was submitted, it was learned that the German submarines were returning to their home ports under the white flag. I was too late!

 

THE END