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Escaping Club

<hr style="width: 65%;" />[257] <h2>CHAPTER II</h2> <h3>ONE MORE RUN</h3> The night after we had left the German mess, both Lee and Austin were so ill from stomach trouble that it was impossible for them to think of escaping. It was, however, in all probability the last night on which we should be within walking distance of our lines, so I determined to make the attempt by myself. Owing to the nature of their illness, both Lee and Austin were compelled to make frequent visits to the latrines, which were little wooden huts about 50 yards away in the middle of the compound. I also pretended to be ill, and went out each time accompanied by a sentry, who usually came with us the whole way; but Austin reported that one sentry had allowed him to get 20 yards ahead, so I made what preparations I could to escape. We had no map, no compass, and very little food between us, but it was a starlight night, and I thought I could scarcely fail to hit the coast. The first three times I went, the sentry kept too close to me to permit me to escape without considerable risk of an immediate alarm, and as I hoped with luck and by a skilful man&oelig;uvre to be past the outside sentries, if there were any, before my escape was noticed, after due delay I returned each time.[258] The fourth time I went out, the more careless of the three sentries came with me, and as he stopped for a moment to say something to his mates, I walked on quickly and got 20 yards ahead of him. When I came to the latrine, I pretended to enter the door but actually stepped behind the hut, and walked rapidly away, keeping the hut between the sentry and myself. However, I had not gone 30 yards when he saw me. I heard him shout, so I ran. I think he threw a stone after me, but he did not fire. As a matter of fact, I must have been a very dim target in that light by the time he had unslung and cocked his rifle. I passed through a gap in the prickly pear hedge, and just outside saw a small tent near which several men were sitting round a fire. One of the camp pickets I thought; but I passed without being seen and struck out, walking and running alternately, across the marshy valley of the Kishon, making to hit the coast somewhat south of Cæsarea. At times I thought that the alarm had been raised behind me, and twice the barking of dogs made me think that I was being followed. Imagination plays one strange tricks under circumstances of this sort when one's nerves and senses are strung to the very highest pitch, for this escape had been by far the greatest strain on my nerves that I had ever experienced. It was so much worse than any escape in Germany, because of the long, tense hours while I waited for an opportunity, because I had to go alone, and because the risks were greater and the dangers and chances less calculable than in any previous adventure. "Omne ignotum pro magnifico est." It had been just about midnight when I left the camp,[259] and it was very little after 1 o'clock when I reached the rising ground on the west side of the valley, near the valley of Megiddo, after over 6 miles of very bad going. All that night I pressed on at top speed, avoiding the villages and meeting no one in that wild and desolate country. Though I had to cross several small valleys, most of the time I was climbing, and dawn found me on rather a bare exposed part on the top of the ridge from which, when day came, I saw the sea. It had been most difficult to pick a good hiding-place, as there were no trees and very few bushes; and some thickish heather behind a small boulder was the best cover I could find. The country had appeared so desolate at night that I hoped to find it quite uninhabited in the day time, but I soon saw my mistake. From about 6 o'clock onwards shepherds with their flocks wandered on many of the distant hills, and a quarter of a mile away down in the valley there were many small patches of cultivation, where men were working. I made up my mind that if chased by Arabs in that country in daylight the chances of escape were nil, so I took off my boots and went to sleep. About 8 o'clock I woke up and saw an Arab with a rifle standing about 10 yards off looking at me. His appearance in every sense was most unexceptionally unpleasant. I nodded to him as he came up, and said Guten Tag, and motioned to him to sit down beside me. He sat down and made some unintelligible remarks to me, to which I answered in German, and offered him a cigarette. He smoked for a bit, and things seemed to me to be going rather well. Then he started talking again, and kept on repeating some words which I suddenly[260] recognized as Jenin, the name of the German aerodrome about 4 miles away. I jumped at that and said, "Ja ja, Deitscher—Jenin tiara (Turkish for aeroplane) boom, boom," and pointed to myself, by which he was supposed to understand that I was a German flying man from Jenin aerodrome, and my natural habits were bomb dropping. He seemed to grasp this, and after smoking another cigarette went away over the brow of the hill, to my great relief. Soon after his departure I selected another hiding-place, about 100 yards away, and crawled into it on my hands and knees. Even if he had come back to look for me (for I thought he might put two and two together if he learnt during the day that a prisoner had escaped), I doubt if he would have found me without the help of a dog. All that day—and the day seemed endless—I lay in the broiling sun and suffered very greatly from thirst; for I had had nothing to drink since about 2 o'clock on the previous night. The only food I had with me was half a pound of bread and about the same amount of dried greengages, a food much eaten by the Turkish soldiers and quite nourishing. However, I was far too thirsty to eat. During the day I saw some German aeroplanes flying low over the countryside, and thought that perhaps they were looking for me, as I found out afterwards was the case. Being an airman myself, I knew that their chance of finding me if I lay still was just nil, and watching them helped to pass the time. During the day I almost changed my mind and decided to go due south to our lines, but[261] the sight of the sea was so attractive that I determined to keep on in that direction. The next night's walk was the most terrible experience that I have ever had. All night, till 4.30 the next morning, I found no water, and without water I could scarcely eat. Towards morning I could only breathe with difficulty, my tongue and throat seemed to have swollen, and I made a harsh whistling noise when I breathed. I tried sucking various herbs, and eventually tried the leaves of the cactus, which seemed to give momentary relief, so I put some bits of it in my pocket. The loneliness was oppressive past all belief and I longed for a companion, but the only noises were the occasional bark of a dog from an Arab village and the almost continual wailing of the jackals. The going was for the most part very bad, always up or down hill, and was made more difficult by the clouds which obscured the moon for a good part of the night. In one valley which I had to cross, the ground, for a mile or more, was strewn thickly with loose boulders, varying in size from a football to a grand piano. The boulders lay on loose shingle so that they slipped or moved if you stepped on them, and in the cracks and crevices between the boulders were thick thorn bushes. In my exhausted state and in the dim light, it was a nightmare getting through this place. I fell repeatedly trying to jump from one boulder to another, and my clothes were much torn and my face and hands were bleeding freely before I got out of that dreadful place. Once I collapsed, and as I lay on the ground I fell asleep. Half an hour later I woke and, feeling rather better, pushed on again.[262] About 3.30 a.m. I got through the hills and on to the flat country which borders the coast. If I could have found water earlier I believe I should have reached the coast that night, but it was not till about 4.30 a.m. that I found a square hole in a rock half full of water. I drank that dry. A few hundred yards farther on I heard men talking, and going forward cautiously saw Turkish soldiers seated round a small fire. Making a detour, I marched on for half a mile and then heard a man call out on my right. There was only a dim light, as the moon was half hidden by clouds, and I could not see the man. Another man answered him on the left, and I realized that I was passing through a line of sentries. But if I could not see them they could not see me, so I pushed on till I suddenly saw a troop of cavalry advancing on me. I dropped to the ground and curled myself round a small bush about 2 feet high and lay quite still—it was the only possible thing to do. The cavalry came straight towards me, and it was not till they were 10 yards off that I saw that there was only one horseman and that he was driving half a dozen cattle before him. The cattle passed a yard or two to my right and left, but the horse actually stepped over my head without touching me. I felt most thankful when they had disappeared from sight, and realized that I must now be in the middle of a Turkish military area. However, as there was no hiding-place of any sort to be seen, I walked on once more, keeping a very careful lookout both for the Turks and for a hiding-place. I soon found the latter. It was a patch of corn about an acre in size, so I crawled into it and lay down in the middle, feeling fairly secure. It[263] was a great pity to lose half an hour of darkness, but I knew that an hour or two's walk would bring me to the coast, and it might be difficult to find a better hiding-place in that flat country. Once more I suffered a great deal from heat and thirst, for I found to my surprise that corn stalks give no shade from a sun which beats almost straight down. That evening it began to rain, and as soon as the sun set it became pitch dark. When it was so dark that a man could not be seen at 5 yards' distance I left my cornfield and marched due west. I had taken my bearings from the sun during the day, so that even if there were no stars I should know by landmarks in which direction I was walking. Soon all landmarks were blotted out by the inky darkness and pelting rain, and I began to realize that it might be possible to lose my way even when within one hour's walk of the sea. Owing to the rain the going was rather heavy, being mostly over cultivated land, and when I had been walking for half an hour I began to feel fearfully tired. I staggered rather than walked, and could scarcely put one clay-laden foot before the other. Quite suddenly I collapsed, and lay on the ground totally unable to move. I managed to put my hand over my heart and could feel that it was running most irregularly and misfiring in the most extraordinary way. After about a quarter of an hour it got much better, so I had a few mouthfuls of bread and went on again. Before long I came on a field of things that looked like beans. I tried eating them, but they seemed to clog up my throat and made me feel worse than before. For the next hour I[264] guided myself by the croaking of the frogs in the marshes, which I knew ran parallel to the sea and only a few miles away from it. When I reached the marshes it had stopped raining, but the clouds were so dense that I could see no moon or stars. I had rather a struggle crossing the marshes, and in some places was up to my waist in mud and water. Once my feet almost stuck, and as I dragged them out the soles of both my shoes tore off the uppers. I bound them on again as well as I could, and then walked on again in the direction I thought was right. For the next four hours I pushed on at a good pace, hoping against hope that every step would show me the sea. But it was not to be. My shoes were so uncomfortable that much of the time I went barefooted, but there were many stones and thistles about and I hurt my feet and made poor progress. At about 3 a.m. I got a glimpse of the moon and saw that I was walking northeast instead of west. Heaven knows where I was or for how long I had been walking in a totally wrong direction. For all I knew I might have walked 10 miles from the sea in the last four hours. Then the moon went in again and the rain came on. Soon after that I ran into an encampment of some sort and was chased by dogs; they followed me some way barking, but did not attack me. Then I got tangled up in more marshes, and in the darkness lost my direction again hopelessly. As it began to get light I found myself near some quite nice-looking stone buildings, and sitting down in an orchard in the pouring rain I debated what to do. I was very exhausted, and most dejected at my ill luck. Our[265] lines could not be less than 18 miles away, so that even if I hit the coast very early the following night I should not cross the lines without two more nights' marching and still worse two more days of lying hid. I was desperately hungry and my food was almost exhausted. If recaptured I could only expect very rough treatment, and I wished to keep a little strength in hand to stand that. Added to this, my feet were in such a condition that walking was most painful. But that which finally made me decide to give myself up was that for the last two hours I had come across no spot which would serve as a hiding-place. How I longed to have Buckley with me! If he had been there I think we should have encouraged each other to carry on for one more night at any rate. However, I can't blame myself too much, as I was in a pretty hopeless position. The remembrance of the whole adventure annoys me beyond words. I was so near success. That last night is to me a tragedy. What is to come is sheer comedy. The house where I had made up my mind to give myself up was a square stone two-storied building with a wooden veranda along one side. It was surrounded by a high wall in which there was an iron gate. Finding the gate shut, I turned my attention to a wooden outbuilding, in one of the windows a faint light was showing. I banged on the door, and after a minute or two it was opened by a small dark man in trousers and shirt and bare feet. He appeared rather frightened, and said some words which I did not understand. I tried him in German, saying that I wanted shelter and food. As I had had practically[266] nothing to eat for sixty hours, and was drenched to the skin, he had no difficulty in guessing what I wanted, if he did not understand. He went back into the room and put on some boots and a coat. The room seemed almost completely bare except for a number of people who were sleeping, rolled in blankets, on the floor or on very low beds. Soon the man came out again and shouted towards the house in a language which I guessed to be Hebrew, as there was no mistaking his nationality. After much shouting a man of a most pronounced Jewish type came to the gate. We had some difficulty in understanding each other, as he spoke a thick and almost incomprehensible German. He wanted to know who I was and what I wanted, and when he learnt, much to his surprise, was most unwilling to have anything to do with me. The prospect of immediate food and shelter made me quite callous about the more remote future, so I said he could send for the Turks in the morning if he would only take me in for the night. At that he opened the gate and beckoned to me to follow him. After mounting some wooden steps outside the house to the balcony he brought me into a room which stank most horribly of stale humanity and garlic. The room was quite bare except for two beds and a sort of couch, on which men were lying rolled in blankets. They gave me some incredibly disgusting cold rissoles, mainly made of garlic, which nearly made me sick; but I managed to eat two or three of them. In this extraordinary household they all appeared to go to bed in their day clothes, and looked and smelt as if they had never washed from the day they were born. I[267] think they meant to be kind to me, but they were very frightened and miserably poor in food and utensils of every sort. They made signs to me to lie on a bed which one of them vacated, so I took off most of my wet clothes and fell asleep instantly. <hr style="width: 45%;" /> I was awakened from my sleep abruptly by the blankets being torn off my bed. A nasty-looking Arab, in a uniform of a Turkish officer, was standing close to me brandishing a revolver. A few feet away was a Turkish sentry, and in the background the Jews huddled together in the corner. The Arab took hold of my wrist and tried to pull me out of bed. That made me mad with anger, so I shook him off and damned his eyes, whereupon he presented the revolver at my head. So I took hold of myself and, obeying signs from him, got out of bed and began to dress into my wet things. Seeing me more docile he lowered the revolver and, seizing his opportunity, patted me on the head to show there was no ill feeling. My resentment at this was so obvious that he produced the revolver again, but thereafter kept his distance. My feet and my shoes were in such a condition that it was clear that I should have great difficulty in walking. I pointed this out to him and, whether at his order or out of kindness—the latter, I think—one of the Jews brought me a pair of old boots. Though the Jews had immediately sent word to the Turks, I feel no violent resentment towards them, as they were obviously frightened out of their skins at my presence in the house. In other ways I think they did their best for me, and were sorry for me;[268] owing to their extreme poverty they could not do much. I suppose they just had licence to live from the Turks, and that's about all. Even at the time most men would have preferred infinitely to take my chances of life and treatment rather than live under the conditions in which these Jews were living. Poor brutes! But then I had the same feeling about every Turkish soldier. Perhaps that is why the Turks are so callous of life. They live so close to the borderland where life becomes intolerable that it can mean little to them to die. Just before we marched off the Jews gave me some more of their disgusting meat, and, when I reproached them for sending for the Turks so soon, they answered that they were terrified and could not help it. When we had gone a few hundred yards from the house I saw suddenly that my wrist-watch was missing. I made the Arab understand this by signs, and let him know that I wanted to go back and fetch it. He refused, and when I showed signs of obstinacy began to finger his revolver. So we continued the march. I made sure then that the brute had stolen it. It was a beautifully fine morning, very fresh and pleasant after the rain, and though my feet hurt me I was much refreshed by the food and sleep. As I knew from experience, alas! it was not till later that I should feel the full bitterness of failure. When we had gone about a mile we came on a sentry standing beside the path. The Arab called to him and he came up, a poor miserable underfed brute, and stood stiffly to attention. Apparently the soldier had failed to arrive in time to assist in my arrest. A few words passed, and[269] then the Arab hit him half a dozen blows in the face with his hand. The man winced at each blow but remained at attention, and then fell in behind. To see an unresisting man hit in this way is a horrible and demoralizing sight, and I felt quite literally sick with rage. A little farther on a second sentry was treated in exactly similar fashion. A walk of a little over half an hour, through comparatively well-cultivated country, brought us to the Jewish colony, the village of Hedéra. There were many evidences that this colony had been a flourishing and pleasant little place in times of peace. The houses were of wood or stone, pretty and well built, and most of them stood in their own gardens and there were many signs that a more civilized race than the Turks or Arabs had been in occupation. In an airy bungalow I was introduced to Ahmed Hakki Bey, Turkish commandant of the place. He gave me a seat as well as coffee, brandy, and unlimited cigarettes. A Turk, who spoke French, acted as interpreter, and seemed particularly anxious to impress upon me that the Turks were not barbarians. First of all, I had to be identified. There was some difficulty about this, as the description of me which apparently had been circulated did not tally in the slightest degree with the original. However, they had little difficulty in accepting me as the "wanted" man, though the commandant said he felt a little aggrieved that I had no points of resemblance whatever to my official description. I was treated by him with great consideration and, after he had questioned me, more from curiosity than for official reasons, he asked me if I wanted anything. I answered that I wished to sleep and then to eat.[270] I was led by the interpreter to a very small room in which there was a bed and blankets. He was most anxious to impress me with the generous and civilized way in which I was being treated. "And yet," he said, "all Englishmen say that Turks are barbarians, don't they?" "Ah no," I answered, "only those who have not come into close contact with the Turks may have a false opinion of them." "Then you do not now think the Turks barbarians?" "Since I have been a prisoner in their hands I have completely changed my mind." As a matter of fact, in pre-war days I always imagined the Turks to be rather good fellows. I had already changed my mind, and I was soon to be quite converted. The Turkish official is as corrupt, cruel, unscrupulous, and ignorant as any class on earth. That some of them have a thin or even fairly thick coating of European civilization only makes them in my opinion the more odious. I came across a few—a very few—who seemed notable exceptions, but that may have been because I did not have time or opportunity to penetrate the outer coating of decency. During this conversation I took off most of my clothes, which were still very wet, and got into bed and soon fell asleep. When I awoke the room was crammed with people, who had come to look at me. I counted sixteen at one time in that tiny room. Women came as well as men, and I was subjected to a hail of questions, either through the interpreter or by those who could speak German or French. One of the Jews who had been my host a few hours before came in and, seizing an opportunity, whispered to me in German, "We did not take it; he did,"[271] indicating the Turkish officer who had captured me. I knew he was referring to my watch, and determined to complain to the commandant. The whole position was most undignified, but I did not see how I could help it. After all, I was being treated with a crude and barbarous generosity which was rather astonishing. About midday I was given food, and then brought once more before the commandant. He was standing outside his bungalow surrounded by a number of Turks and half the population of the village, and made a speech to me, which appeared to be most pleasant, and I gathered that he was complimenting both himself and me on the signal proof that had been afforded me that the Turks were not barbarians. Both he and his interpreter had "barbarian" on the brain. When he had finished I took the opportunity of stating that someone had stolen my watch, and added, very unwisely as I soon discovered, that I rather suspected his officer. This was something of an anti-climax. However, he soon recovered himself, and gave me a hasty promise that he would investigate the matter. I abandoned all hope of seeing my watch again. <hr style="width: 45%;" /> The journey from Hedéra to Tulkeram was made on horseback. To my disgust I found that the same Turk who had arrested me, and whom I had just accused publicly of stealing my watch, was to be my escort. The officer and I were mounted, but we were accompanied by two Turkish soldiers on foot, and I was astonished at the way these men kept up with us. In spite of rifles and ammunition and heavy clothes, and in spite of the heat,[272] these men kept up a speed of quite six or seven miles an hour for the first six miles of the journey. After that the Turk deliberately left them behind; keeping just behind me he urged my horse into a canter, which we kept up till we were well out of sight. By this time I had made absolutely certain that the brute intended to murder me, and my anxiety was not lessened when he drew a large revolver and had pot shots at various objects by the wayside. Of course he would have a simple and satisfactory excuse for shooting me, by saying that I had attempted to escape. About half a mile ahead, in the otherwise flat plain, were two very low ridges which hid the path we were following from almost all sides, and I felt that it would be here that the deed would be done, and I began to think out a plan for attacking him first and then escaping in earnest. At the best, however, the situation seemed to me pretty serious. Of course I may have misjudged him, but I still believe he intended to murder me. Just as we were crossing the first low ridge a small caravan came round the corner. I breathed a prayer of thanksgiving, and my Turk put away his revolver and drew his horse up alongside of mine. For the rest of the way we were, to my great relief, and as luck would have it, never out of sight of human beings for more than a few minutes at a time. However, as I said before, I may have misjudged the fellow. At a village a few miles north of Tulkeram we halted to water our horses, and while we were sitting there eating some food we had brought with us a German officer and his orderly rode by. The German caught sight of me, and[273] coming across asked me in German if I was the English flying captain who had attempted to escape. When I answered in the affirmative he told me that I should not be long a prisoner as the war would be over in three months. "Why do you say that?" I asked. "Because," said he, "our armies have been completely victorious in France." At my request he gave me some details of the places that had been captured, and added that to all intents and purposes the war was over, and asked me what I thought of it. I said that I did not put any reliance on German communiqués, but that if it was true it looked as if the war would last another four years. He left me feeling rather miserable at the way things might be going in France. I hated that German, so damned condescending and superior. No man with any instincts of a gentleman would have gloried over an unfortunate prisoner as he had done. About the rest of the journey to Tulkeram there is nothing to add. I was received there by the very worst and most unpleasant type of superficially civilized Turk, and by a gruff and, I should think, efficient German intelligence officer. After some questioning, I was put into the charge of a Turkish officer of the intolerably stupid type, with whom I very soon lost my temper completely. He deposited me in a cell in what I imagine was the civil prison. A sentry was left in the cell with me, whose presence and dirty habits annoyed me beyond words. By one of those amazing incongruities, possible where the Turk rules and nowhere else, I found in a corner of the cell three very fine new eiderdowns, and with these[274] made myself a comfortable bed and went to sleep. I was awakened some hours later by three English Tommies being brought into the cell. One of them was badly wounded in the arm just above the elbow. The wound obviously needed dressing, so after five exasperating minutes I managed to convey to the sentry that I insisted on seeing an officer immediately. When the same fool of an officer turned up, his dense, imperturbable stupidity nearly drove me mad. At length I turned my back on him and lay down once more in my corner. When a man has been starving he cannot satisfy his hunger at one meal, and I was now desperately hungry. The strain through which I had lately passed was as much nervous as physical, and it had left me so irritable that I sometimes think that I could not have been quite sane during that intolerable never-to-be-forgotten three weeks' train journey to Constantinople. I lost my temper daily, and several times a day. But then the Turks are an irritating nation to a prisoner with a spark of pride left in him. Even now it makes me hot and angry when I think of the Turk, and the hatred of Turkish officialdom is branded on my soul. That night we, the three Tommies and I, left in a cattle truck on the first stage of our long journey. They gave me some food before we started, but no doctor came for the unfortunate wounded man. I protested whenever I saw anyone who could speak a Christian lingo, and promises were given by superficially civilized barbarians that it should be attended to. But result there was none. The journey to Constantinople, with breaks of a few days at Damascus and Aleppo, lasted, as near as I can[275] reckon now, for about three weeks. Many of the details of time and place, I am almost thankful to say, I have forgotten; but in any case I would not tell of the journey in detail, not only for fear of boring anyone who has been kind enough to read so far, but also because the memory of the journey is abhorrent to me. I found out afterwards that my heart had been considerably displaced by my late exertions. I was tired, irritable, disappointed, and ill; continually subjected to small indignities, which are more unbearable than open insults; covered with lice; unable to lie down for days on end; herded with Jews and civil prisoners, and ordered about by a Turkish gendarme or "dog collar" man, whose impenetrable stupidity nearly drove me mad. In reality I suppose the hardships of this journey were not very great, and many times in the past had I suffered much greater privations and discomforts, but never have I experienced anything so hard to bear, or of which the memories are so unpleasant. The first or pleasantest stage of the journey, as far as Damascus, was made by the three Tommies and myself in a closed horse wagon. At any rate I had the companionship of some stout-hearted Englishmen, who bore their troubles nobly and showed that unselfishness and cheerfulness in adversity which is perhaps the greatest asset of the British Tommy. The nights were very cold, and we slept huddled together for warmth on the bare boards of the filthy truck. I begged a log from the engine-driver as a pillow, and managed to get a good deal of sleep in spite of the cold. The days were pleasantly warm, and to a certain extent I was able to forget my troubles in the[276] struggle to get food and to obtain medical aid for our wounded man. It was only after several days that I got a doctor to attend to him. I managed it at last by hailing some German soldiers whilst we were halted at a station. They promised to do their best for us, and also brought us good food. A little later a Turkish or Armenian doctor turned up and dressed the man's arm, fairly skilfully it seemed to me. He told me that the arm was in a bad condition, and that the man should go to a hospital at the earliest opportunity. I kept on trying to get medical attention for the poor fellow, but with little result, until we left him behind at some wayside hospital at a place the name of which I have forgotten. I have never heard whether his arm or his life was saved. Throughout that journey the Germans without exception were good to us and did all they could for us, and meeting them was like meeting civilized men in a savage land. The German privates several times—whenever they had an opportunity, in fact—brought us food, good hot stew, and expressed their contempt for the Turk in no measured terms. Our escort and the other occupants of the horse truck were rather a grotesque crew. An Arab in full Arab costume seemed to be in command. He was extremely suspicious of me, and objected strongly when I talked to the Germans, which I did at every opportunity. In the day time, when it was futile to think of escaping, he watched my every movement, and at night slept peacefully, often with the door a few inches open, so that a night seldom passed when I could not have escaped if I[277] had wished. It was grudgingly that I was allowed sometimes to sit in the sun or walk up and down for exercise at the numerous and prolonged halts. When I pointed out that my feet hurt me and that I had no boots on, he explained by signs that he suspected me the more for having taken off my boots, and made movements with his hands to show that a man could run all the faster without boots. That made me so angry that I nearly hit him, and a little later I managed to get hold of an interpreter to tell him that, as I could escape any night I wished to while he slept, he might give me a little more liberty in the day time when escape was hopeless. Our relations remained, to the end, rather strained. Then there was a big lout of a Turkish sergeant, a kindly sort of fellow, whose main diet seemed to be raw onions, lemons, raisins, and almonds. There was also a particularly dirty Turkish soldier who was seen and smelt but not heard. The most curious member of the party was a filthy, ragged Arab beggar. He possessed only two garments, both unbelievably dirty. One was a coarse linen nightshirt, and the other a large irregular-shaped piece of black cloth, which he wore over his shoulders in the day time, while at night, sitting huddled up into a small ball, he covered himself completely with it. He had no hat, boots, stockings, money, or possessions of any sort. I was under the impression that he had been arrested as a spy by the Turks, but never found out for certain. He seemed to be on very friendly terms with my escort, and appeared to enjoy the journey, depending for food on bits that other people did not want. The Arab gave him all the liberty he wished[278] for, and he was most useful in fetching water and buying food for us. He was just a cheeky, cheerful, ragged street-arab, who seemed to know how and where to beg, borrow, or steal the cruder necessities of life. He seemed to take a special interest in me, and sometimes used to brush down the place where I slept with his outer garment. He also liked sleeping close to me, but I could not stand that, and, though I felt rather ungracious about it, insisted on him removing himself to a decent distance. For some time I thought he might be one of our spies who wished to communicate with me; but I don't think that was the case, as he could have found endless opportunities of speaking to me in private if he had wished to. I was very curious at the time to know who he was and where he was going, and always had a feeling that he was not quite what he seemed. I never found out anything about him; I wish I could, as I am still curious. After a couple of days' journey from Tulkeram we reached Afule, the place from which I had escaped. Rather an angry crowd collected round the carriage when it became known that I was there, and one or two Turkish soldiers put their heads in at the door and cursed me; for I believe the sentries from whom I had escaped had received rather severe punishment. I have little doubt that they had been cruelly bastinadoed, poor brutes. Some German flying men and also some Turks came to see me; the former from curiosity, and the latter to question me about my escape. Had I bribed the sentry? "Of course not," I said, "why spend money unnecessarily? Any fool can get away from a Turkish sentry whenever[279] he wants to. I had had heaps of opportunities since my recapture, but my feet were sore and I could not walk." This statement gave them something to think about, the more especially because it coincided with statements which had been made by Austin and Lee when they had been questioned. Their statements and the belief that Austin, Lee, and I would repeat our opinions as to the incompetence of all Turks, and especially of those at Afule, alone prevented, as I now feel sure, any word of my escape being forwarded to Headquarters. I received no special punishment for my escape, which is perhaps just as well, as I much doubt if I should have lived through it. Of the rest of that tedious journey to Damascus I remember only a few incidents, of which the following is an example. At Deraah, the junction of the Damascus and the Mecca lines, the train halted for about ten hours and I was put in charge of the station-master. He was a dirty-looking blackguard but not so stupid as most Turks, and gave me to understand that he was very friendly. He invited me to share his lunch and we ate together, dipping our fingers into the same dish and fishing out lumps of meat. There is nothing like real true hunger to tide over a little squeamishness. When we had finished, he asked me to write him a note to say that he had been kind to British prisoners. He was convinced, he said, that the British would soon be in Damascus, and that perhaps he would be taken prisoner. I wrote on a piece of paper, "This fellow, Station-master at Deraah, gave me food when I was hungry—A. J. Everard," and gave it to him: I[280] had been his guest, and was grateful for the meal. I should like to know if he ever used my chit. We arrived at Damascus very early one morning, and were marched through the streets to the courtyard of a hotel. They pushed the Tommies into a room absolutely packed with stinking, filthy, crawling human beings. They were mostly Turkish soldiers, military criminals I should think, and only once in my life, at the main jail at Constantinople, have I ever seen such a miserable, famished, filthy crowd. I absolutely refused to enter the room in spite of all threats, and at length they gave in, and put a guard over me in the courtyard. Later in the day all four of us were marched up to the main barracks and I was lodged in a room with barred windows—I call it a room, because it was on the second floor and had a wooden bedstead and a mattress in one corner, but no other furniture. The place was comparatively clean, and I might have been much worse off. I asked that the Tommies should be put into my room, but this was refused, though I obtained permission to visit them. They were in a long, narrow stone cell. The walls had at one time been whitewashed, but now the whole place was filthy. From the long side-wall boards sloped down to the center of the room, leaving a narrow gangway. The boards and the stone floor were filthy, and all over the room a thick crowd of still filthier Turks slept or played cards. What the place was I don't know, but it is just possible that it was the Turkish guardroom, though it is hard to credit it unless you have spent a little time in Turkey as a prisoner. I did what I could for our poor[281] fellows, who were wonderfully cheerful; but it was little I could do to make their existence a little more tolerable. Twice every day I was conducted by George, a miserable little Armenian with the fear of death on him, to a hotel in the town, where I had my meals with Turkish officers, and paid at reduced and very reasonable rates. The meals were quite good and satisfying. I also found a small library in the hotel in which there were several English books which I borrowed from mine host—an Armenian, of course. All business men of any description seem to be Armenians in Damascus, and they one and all seemed to be praying for and expecting daily and hourly the coming of the English. After a couple of days in Damascus, I felt so much better that I began to turn my attention once more to escaping. I broached the matter first to some Armenians in the hotel, but soon saw that they were too frightened to be any use. Next I tested my conductor, George, and found that for years he had had the desire, but never the courage, to escape. I cheered him on with promises of prosperity if we succeeded, and two days later he told me that he had got into touch with some men who would guide us to friendly Arabs outside the town. We were to escape disguised in two days' time; but, when questioned, George was unable to produce any details or any connected scheme of escape. I continued to press for details, but when the day came he went dead lame, and was so obviously in a blue funk that I called the matter off. I don't believe for a moment that he had ever made any arrangements for escaping. In any case I feel sure[282] I was right not to trust myself blindly to this miserable little cur of an Armenian. Before I had time to discover any more suitable conspirator—the next day, in fact—I was moved off by train together with the Tommies in a cattle truck, with about thirty other human beings, all as dirty and smelly as possible, and all, I have no doubt, covered with vermin, as I was by that time. Whilst at Damascus I had a good opportunity of looking round the town, with George as my conductor. The Arab thinks of Damascus and the waters of Damascus as a sort of heaven upon earth. Although it does not quite accord with my idea of heaven, the place has for me a certain fascination. The sight of water in plenty in a thirsty land is in itself a pleasant sight. The shops too are exceptionally good for that part of the world. Altogether, making due allowances for the circumstances, I have quite pleasant recollections of Damascus. The last day I was there I tried to change some money, for curious as it may seem, I had never been robbed of my money. I was unable to come to an agreement with a robber of an Armenian about the rate of exchange. George came in, in the midst of the argument, and told me that he could arrange things better for me. He led me by side streets to an insignificant-looking little shop and introduced me to an old man in rich clothing, who spoke French. This old man was an Armenian, with French blood in his veins, I should think, and offered to give me gold for my Egyptian notes. He refused my thanks, saying it was a small thing to do to help one who had risked his life on the side of the Allies against the Turks.[283] Of the journey from Damascus to Aleppo I am pleased to say I remember absolutely nothing. We made a particularly bad start, as I have said, being crowded at night with from thirty to forty nondescript human beings into a dirty cattle truck, so that I have no doubt it was as unpleasant as the rest. At Aleppo the Tommies and I were marched through the town to a big white stone fort or barracks which stands on a hill above it. Here we were separated, and it was not till some months afterwards when one of them came as my orderly at Afion that I heard of those good fellows again. They had had an awful time, but I believe survived to the end, being strong men. Of the fate of the wounded man they knew nothing. I was brought up to the Commandant's private room. After the polite formalities of introduction, together with cigarettes and coffee, I was given a seat on a divan whilst the Commandant submitted himself to be shaved. When this operation was concluded, he politely offered me the services of his barber, which I gratefully accepted. Feeling much refreshed, I was led away and deposited in a very bare and unpleasant cell. Just as I was preparing to kick up a fearful row and give my celebrated imitation of an indignant demi-god by kicking at the door and cursing the sentry, the only method I found to be of the slightest use in getting food or washing materials out of the Turks, an officer appeared who conducted me back into the town. After sundry intensely irritating vicissitudes, and after losing my temper intentionally and unintentionally a number of times, I slept that night in a passable imitation of a hotel, and in a bed which was the cleanest thing I had seen for weeks. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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