<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER II</h2>
<h3>GUTERSLOH AND CLAUSTHAL</h3>
<p>I believe the camp at Gütersloh had formerly been a
lunatic asylum. It was composed of six or seven
large independent barrack-like buildings. One of
these buildings was a civilian camp, and one was a quarantine,
used also as a solitary confinement or <i>Stubenarrest</i>
prison; another was used as the quarters of the commandant.
The ground was sandy, and I should think
comparatively healthy and dry even in the wettest weather.
In hot weather the heat was much accentuated, but there
were patches of small pine trees in the camp which gave a
pleasant shade. The camp area could not have been less
than eight acres altogether, enclosed by two rows of
barbed wire, with arc lamps every seventy yards or so.
The prisoners comprised some 1200 officers—800 Russians,
over 100 English, and the rest French or Belgians. We
were marched up to the camp through a quiet village, and
were put into the quarantine, where we remained for about
a week. The morning after our arrival, we were medically
inspected and questioned as to our name, rank,
regiment, place of capture, age, where taught to fly, etc.,
all of which questions evoked a variety of mendacious and
romantic answers. We were then put to bed in the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</SPAN></span>
quarantine and treated with some beastly anti-lice powder—most
disagreeable! The food was insufficient in quarantine.
We had no opportunity of taking exercise, and
were all much bored and longed to be sent into the main
camp, which we were told was the best in Germany.
This was not far off the truth, as subsequent experience
proved the administration and internal arrangements of
this camp to be admirable.</p>
<p>Originally English, Russian, and French prisoners had
lived all mixed up together, but now the nationalities were
mainly in separate buildings, and always in separate
rooms. In the English building there was a common room
in which there was a daily English paper and two
monthly magazines, all typewritten in the camp. From
an artistic point of view the magazines were excellent,
rather after the style of <i>Printer's Pie</i>, and the daily paper
consisted of leading articles, correspondence, and translations
out of German papers.</p>
<p>The canteen was very well run by a Russian on the
co-operative share system, but when I was there it was
becoming more and more difficult to buy goods in Germany.
I don't think any food could be bought in the canteen, but
wine, and, I think, whisky also, could be obtained, as well
as tennis racquets, knives, books, pencils, boxes, and
tobacco of all sorts.</p>
<p>The feeding in the camp was very bad indeed, the
quantity quite insufficient, and most of it almost uneatable.
However, we were hungry enough to eat it with avidity
when we first came in.</p>
<p>Most wisely the Germans gave us ample facilities for<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</SPAN></span>
playing games in the camp. There were ten tennis courts,
and two grounds large enough for hockey and football, so
we spent our time in playing tennis and exchanging lessons
in modern languages, for which of course there were unique
opportunities. We had two roll-calls a day, which lasted
about ten minutes each, but otherwise the Germans interfered
with us very little, and I think most of us found the
first month or two of captivity a real rest cure after the
strain and excitement of the Somme battle. I did, at
any rate.</p>
<p>Long and I had been less than three weeks in this place
when all those flying officers who had been captured on the
Somme were removed from Gütersloh to Clausthal. Looking
back on the life at Gütersloh, one thing strikes me
more now than it did whilst I was there, and that is the
fact that all the officers, with the exception of a small
section of the Russians, had apparently abandoned all hope
of escaping. The defenses of the camp were not strong
enough to be any reason for this lack of enterprise, and
I can only attribute it to the encouragement and opportunities
given by the Germans for game-playing, which successfully
turned the thoughts of the prisoners from
escaping.</p>
<p>Of the journey to Clausthal, in the Harz Mountains, I
only remember that it was quite comfortable, and that we
arrived at night. The camp was about a mile up from the
station, and we were let through a barbed wire fence and
into a wooden barrack. For the next eight days we remained
shut up in this place, and it was only with difficulty
that we were allowed to have the windows open. There<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</SPAN></span>
were three of these wooden barracks and a hotel or Kurhaus
inside the barbed wire. This was the best German camp
for food that I was in, and I think it would be possible
to live on the food the Germans gave us. After eight
days' quarantine we were let out into the camp. Long
and I, and a captain in the R.F.C. who had been lately
captured, called Nichol, had a little room together in the
wooden barrack. On the whole, life was pleasant at
Clausthal. The Germans were very polite, and the sentries
were generally friendly.</p>
<p>We passed the time at Clausthal in much the same way
as we had done at Gütersloh. If anything, it was more
peaceful and pleasant, and the country surrounding the
camp, where we sometimes went for walks, was beautiful.
The Harz Mountains are a well-known German health
resort, so that by the middle of September I was feeling so
remarkably fit, and was getting such an overpowering
aversion to being ordered about by the Germans, that,
encouraged by a young Belgian called Kicq, I began to
think very seriously of escaping. When I had been about
six weeks at Clausthal I was given details by one of the conspirators
of a scheme for escaping from the camp by a
tunnel. Apparently two of the party had struck work,
and owing to this I was offered a place. I was not surprised
that some one had downed tools, when I saw the
unpleasant and water-logged hole which was to be our
path of freedom. The idea was rather a good one, but
it was too widely known in the camp for the scheme to
have any chance of success, and after working it for three
weeks we abandoned it. In the first place because the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</SPAN></span>
tunnel became half full of water, and secondly, because we
had reason to believe the Germans had learnt of its existence
and were waiting to catch us red-handed—a suspicion
which was afterwards confirmed. I was very glad,
for there were never less than two inches of water when I
worked there, and it was a horrible job, as all tunneling is.</p>
<p>About this time Kicq suggested that we should escape
by train, which he felt sure was possible if we were suitably
dressed. I was of the opinion that there were too many
difficulties in the way to make it worth while trying, but he
eventually talked me over and told me that long train
journeys had already been done by Frenchmen. We then
decided that we would go for Switzerland, the general
opinion being that it was impossible to cross the Dutch
border, as it was guarded by electric wire, dogs, and
several lines of sentries. It was absolutely necessary to
our plans to have a clear start of seven or eight hours
without an alarm, and when our tunnel had to be abandoned
I despaired of getting out without being seen or
heard. Kicq, as always, was ready to try anything, and
produced scheme after scheme, to all of which I objected.
The real difficulty was the dogs round the camp, and
though there were numerous ways of getting out of the
camp, in all his schemes it was heavy odds on our being
seen and the alarm being given. We both thought it was
too late in the year to walk (nonsense, of course, but I
did not know that then); and where should we walk to,
since the Dutch frontier was impossible? As an English
major said to me, "The frontier is guarded against spies
who have friends on both sides and know every inch of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</SPAN></span>
the ground; how can you, tired prisoners of war, with no
maps worth having—no knowledge and no friends—hope
to cross?" I was further discouraged by a rumor that
there were new railway regulations about showing passes
which would make it quite impossible for us to travel by
train. About that time I got into conversation with one
of the German sentries, and bribed him with half a pat
of butter to allow me to speak to a prisoner who was supposed
to be in solitary confinement. At the end of a week
the sentry had agreed to help me to escape, as long as the
plan did not in any way implicate him. He told me that,
speaking German as well as I did, I should have no difficulty
in going by train, and that there were no passes to
be shown or anything of that sort. I agreed to send 500
marks to his wife if I got away by his help. A day or
two later I suddenly saw the way to get out. I was walking
round with one of the tunnel conspirators at the time,
and pointed it out to him. Then I found Kicq and told
him we would depart on Monday. He, of course, was
delighted, and ready to fall in with anything I might suggest.
For some time our plans and preparations had been
completed as far as possible; money had been no obstacle,
as there were many men in the camp who had 20 or 30
marks, German money, and I managed to collect 80 and
Kicq 120 marks. He had already got a civil outfit, and
I had got a cap from an orderly. We decided not to
take rücksacks but a traveling-bag, and I bought just the
thing in the canteen. I was going to take an empty rücksack
in the bag so that we could divide the weight afterwards,
as we intended to walk the last 40 kilometres. We<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</SPAN></span>
knew we could catch a 2.13 a.m. train at Goslar (a small
town about 15 kilometres due north of Clausthal), and
after that we had to trust to luck to find trains to take us
<i>via</i> Cassel to Rotweil, a village near the Swiss frontier.
The one difficulty remaining was a suit of civilian clothes
for me. There was an English flying officer in the camp
whose uniform had been badly spoilt when he had been
brought down. In consequence, he had been allowed to
buy a suit of civilian clothes in Cambrai. He was still
wearing these; in fact, he had nothing else to wear. The
Germans had been most unwilling to let him continue in
possession of these clothes, and always had their eye on
them and of course intended to confiscate them as soon as
his uniform turned up from England. This fellow agreed
to allow me to steal his clothes. It was a most courageous
thing to do, as he would certainly have got fourteen days'
imprisonment for it, in spite of the evidence which would
be produced to prove that the clothes were stolen quite
unknown to him. As it happened, this theft was not
necessary, as I was able to buy a new suit in the camp
for 20 marks. It was green, and of the cheapest possible
material; the jacket was of the Norfolk type with a belt,
and buttoned up high in front at the neck. A black naval
mackintosh, some German boots, a pair of spectacles, and
a cloth cap completed my equipment. The suit had been
bought over a year before from a German tailor who had
been allowed to come into the camp to do ordinary repairs.
This fellow had brought with him a number of civilian
suits, which had been bought up in a very short time. A
few days afterwards the Germans got to hear of this, and<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</SPAN></span>
gave orders that all civilian suits in the camp were to be
confiscated and the money would be returned. Needless
to say, no one owned to having a suit, and a mild search
failed to unearth any of them.</p>
<p>We intended to escape on Monday, because Tuesday
morning roll-call was at 11.30 a.m. instead of 9.30 a.m.,
and if we could get out unseen it would give us two hours
more time before we were missed. On Friday I found
out that two good fellows, Ding and Nichol, also intended
to escape by the same method. We decided that all four
of us would try. Naturally it was necessary to go on the
same night, and Monday was selected. We tossed up who
was to cut the wire and go first, and fortune decided for
Ding and Nichol.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</SPAN></span> <SPAN href="images/i028-hi.jpg"><ANTIMG src="images/i028.jpg" width-obs="600" height-obs="457" alt="CLAUSTHAL." title="" /></SPAN> <span class="caption">CLAUSTHAL.</span></div>
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