My Escape from Germany 22

My Escape from Germany 22

I had still about two hours’ work ahead of me, for I had to map out the

route for the following day. I was quite convinced that Berlin was too

hot for us. We had not yet discussed our further plans, but had bought

a time-table at the station.

 

Finally, having considered a number of alternative routes, I selected a

slow train, which was to leave the Zoölogical Garden Station, where our

luggage was, at 10:24 A.M. for Hanover, and was due to arrive some time

after 6 P.M. I went to sleep, dead tired, at about 2:45.

 

We got our knock and hot water at 6:30, as ordered. Having dressed,

we went into the breakfast-room. A nice, comfortable-looking body

presided there; I believe she was the proprietress. We had foreseen the

formality of the visitors’ book, and had our names and addresses pat.

The landlady peered at them, then at us. I had to negotiate with her

for our breakfast, for we had no bread-cards and wanted something to

eat.

 

“You are foreigners, aren’t you?” she asked.

 

“Good gracious, no! Why do you think so?”

 

“I thought so from your accent.”

 

“We’re not from this part of Germany, as you can see by the visitors’

book.” I was going to add that we had lived a long time abroad, etc.,

but, if I recollect rightly, I did not. I don’t believe it safe to

volunteer information, unless one is telling the truth.

 

“That’s quite all right, then. We have to be so careful about

strangers! Just sign these emergency slips for your bread-cards. Thank

you, sir.”

 

During a very sketchy breakfast consisting of coffee, rolls, and

butter, a young lieutenant passed down the room, and with a bright

smile saluted us civilly. Wallace and I looked at each other, grinning

covertly. What a lark! If he knew!

 

At a quarter to eight we left the hotel and slowly made our way toward

the station. Having plenty of time, we entered a café to have a chat

and another breakfast, even more sketchy than the first. We were the

only guests in the place, and had to wait for the milk. Here I outlined

my plans for the day. At last Wallace assented.

 

“Come along, then,” I said, rising. “Let’s see what we can buy in the

way of food. Chocolate first.”

 

In a high-class confectioner’s we were told that chocolate was out of

the question, but _chocolates_ we could have.

 

“What price?”

 

“Nine marks [$1.75] a pound!”

 

We could not afford more than two pounds, because the things we had

bought the night before had made a big hole in our joint capital of

$125.00--in German money, of course. Next we obtained two small tins of

sardines at $1.10 each. Our efforts to buy something in the way of meat

or fat were not crowned with success.

 

At the station, however, things went well, in spite of my extreme

agitation when buying the tickets.

 

Within the first half-hour we passed Ruhleben camp, and had a glimpse

of the grand stands, the barracks, and the enclosure, which we knew so

intimately from the inside.

 

At about 12:30 the train stopped for over an hour at Stendal. The

station restaurant supplied us with a fairly ample fish meal, beer, and

coffee. Another long stop occurred later on.

 

During the journey we passed a considerable number of prisoners’ camps.

They seemed as a rule to be situated close to a railway line, within

easy distance from a small station. The aspect of the huddled hutments,

the wire fences around them with watch-towers at the corners, and the

sentries on guard, was indescribably forlorn. At one station at which

we stopped a transport of Russian prisoners entrained under a guard of

ancient territorials.

 

Wallace was in high spirits all the time. I was, on the contrary,

moody, irritable, and worried. My feelings were in complete accord with

the weather.

 

A lowering gray wrack of clouds was being torn and driven by a

whistling wind above the naked fields and copses. Occasionally showers

of hard snowflakes could be heard rattling on the glass of the carriage

windows. Our compartment was over-heated, as trains always are in

Germany. Yet, I shivered occasionally, as I looked out of the window,

while trying to construct a small optimistic raft to cling to in a sea

of despondency. I made a bad companion that journey.

 

Hanover was reached on time, and the luggage temporarily disposed

of in the cloak-room. The town greeted us with a brief but thick

blizzard--about the worst thing that could happen to us short of

arrest. Confronted with it, my spirits improved.

 

“Snow, or no snow, we’ll make the best attempt we can at the frontier,”

I whispered.

 

“Just what I think,” Wallace agreed heartily.

 

His boots did not fit him well, and I urged him to buy bigger ones. A

suitable pair, shown to us in a shop, cost $15.00, too much for our

declining purse. When Wallace looked up at me from his chair, mutely

shaking his head, I could not insist on the expenditure.

 

After that we walked about the streets, looking for a likely hotel.

We decided on a dirty fifth-rate one, to which we resolved to return

later, and then wandered back to the brighter, fashionable part of the

town. We had dinner in a big restaurant. The warmth, the lights, the

show of gaiety around us, and an ample but meatless meal accompanied

by a glass or two of decent lager, made me feel subduedly optimistic.

Wallace was nearly jumping out of his skin with _joie de vivre_.

 

At ten o’clock we went to our hotel. It was unnecessarily low-class. We

did not seem to fit into the scheme of things there, and consequently

were regarded with half-concealed suspicion. Nevertheless, no questions

were asked. Our room was cheerless and cold. We waited until our

luggage was brought; then Wallace crept into bed, while I sat in my

overcoat near the guttering candle, looking up trains.

 

I intended to get to Haltern the following evening. The main railway

lines lay across our route, and several changes were necessary, there

being no direct trains over the branch lines we had to use. My task

proved a difficult one. Few trains were running in Germany at that

time. The fast corridor expresses, which we could have taken over

comparatively small stretches, had to be carefully avoided, for we knew

now of the existence of passport controls on them. The slow trains did

not usually connect. After much comparing, testing, and retesting, I

was fairly satisfied at last.

 

I had resolved not to leave Hanover from the main station. Detectives

might be watching for us there. By using electric trams we could get to

Hainholz, a village near Hanover, and there pick up our train. At about

12:30 we should be at Minden. A two-hours’ wait there, and a journey of

about one and a half hours would take us to Osnabruck by about 5 P.M.

Forty minutes later a non-corridor express would carry us to Haltern,

where we should arrive at 7:30.

 

I was nearly beat when I tumbled into bed at two o’clock, envying

Wallace, whose regular breathing had filled the room for hours past.

 

Bang, bang, bang! bang, bang, bang!

 

“All ri--” I began.

 

“_Danke schön, danke!_ [Thank you],” shrieked Wallace, to drown my

voice.

 

I opened my eyes foolishly, to a dark room. A match spluttered, the

wick caught, and Wallace’s eyes glittered reproachfully into mine from

behind his glasses. “I say, do you know what you said?” This in German.

 

“Well, I--”

 

“Shshsh, you chump, _Deutsch!_”

 

* * * * *

 

“We’d like breakfast, please!” This to a youth in the bar-room.

 

“Have you got your bread-cards?”

 

“No. We’re travelers; we’ll sign travelers’ slips.”

 

“Nothing doing. You can have a cup of coffee.”

 

“Look here, we got bread at a restaurant last night without them. Why

can’t you give us some?”

 

At this suggestion the uncivil youth lost his temper completely, and we

were fain to content ourselves with a cup of German coffee-substitute.

 

Before eight o’clock we were out of the place. Our luggage was again

in the cloak-room of the main station. A long walk got rid of most of

the time before us. At ten we tried to buy some nuts. The oil they

contained would supply our bodies with fuel; but none were to be had.

 

Having got our luggage, we took a tram to Hainholz, where we arrived

far too early. The cloak-room and ticket-office of the small station

were closed. Some minutes after eleven the train left. It was a

pleasant change to get into the hot carriage after the cold station.

 

At 12:30 we arrived at Minden. The huge dark waiting-room seemed full

of intangible menaces. We spent an exceedingly uncomfortable time

there, but were recompensed by an excellent meal. A considerable piece

of veal, with plenty of vegetables, blunted our fears and appeased our

ravenous hunger.

 

At the station where next we had to change we found our train waiting

on a siding, and at 7:30 P.M. we arrived in Haltern.

 

The weather had been much the same as on the preceding day, a little

colder, a little more snow. With the prospect of getting within

walking-distance of Holland, my spirits were not so depressed. It is

such a bonny feeling to get on “your own feet,” instead of having to wait in a railway carriage or station, expecting to feel a hand on your shoulder, and hear a voice asking you for your papers!