My Escape from Germany 8

My Escape from Germany 8

A phenomenon of which I was ignorant at the time, but which is well

known to sailors, kept me busy conjecturing. It is an impression one

gets at night, on level ground, or at sea, that one is going decidedly

up-hill. In my case this introduced a disturbing factor into my

calculations as to my position.

 

After tacking through a forest over checker-board clearings the meaning

of which was hidden from me, for they were hardly paths or roads, I

came out upon a path, and heard water bubbling out of the bank on my

right. “More haste less speed. Take it easy,” I murmured to myself,

dropping the haversack. Then I bent down to the spring and, having

drunk as much as I needed, and eaten a mouthful of food, I did some of

the hardest thinking of my life.

 

So far as I recollect, my watch showed just 3:20 A.M. I went minutely

over all my movements since leaving Klein Recken. Although the road,

which I expected would lie across my course, had not yet materialized,

I was confident that I had kept my direction fairly well. It was the

impossibility of calculating one’s speed across-country which caused

the uncertainty as to my whereabouts.

 

Fortunately, there was no doubt that a turnpike was not many miles to

the north of me. To reach it, and thus ascertain my position, meant

leaving the present route to the frontier. With less than two hours of

darkness before the dawn, which would force me into hiding, the former

factor was of far greater importance than the latter.

 

My nerves had been getting a little shaky under the stress. I had to

press my hands to my head in order to think logically, and to exert all

my will-power to keep my heart steady. Oh, for a companion! The effort

cleared my brain and soothed me. I was almost cheerful when I went on.

 

Opposite a farmhouse, the path divided and my way became a miry and

deeply rutted cart track. Past another farm, it entered a swampy meadow

through a gate and disappeared. Savage at being tricked again, I

wheeled round to look for the other fork of the track, but was arrested

by seeing a light in the window of the farmhouse where a big dog had

given the alarm when I passed. This was the last straw. Clenching my

teeth, I crouched behind the hedge, an insensate fury making my ears

sing. For the moment, having lost all control of myself, I was more

than ready to meet man or dog, or both, and fight it out on the spot.

But that feeling passed quickly.

 

The noise of a door being opened came to my ears. A lantern was borne

from the house and obscured again. Another door opened, and the

footsteps of a horse sounded on cobbles, followed by the jingling of

harness. Then a cart started out into the dark. Where a cart could go

there must be a road; so I followed after, stumbling over ruts and

splashing through puddles, and running when the horse broke into a trot.

 

The cart drew up in front of a building, of which I could see only

patches of the front wall where the lantern light struck. Followed

the noise of heavy things dumped into the vehicle. Then it started

again--back toward where I was standing. Thoroughly exasperated, I

turned on my heel and walked back over the road I had come, careless

whether I was seen or not. I soon drew away, tried to work round in a

circle, and presently came upon a road once more.

 

What a relief it was to feel even ground under my feet! A little way

farther on, and a sign-post pointing in opposite directions along the

road, read: “Klein Recken 8 Km., Heiden 2 Km.” Out with the map. There

was the road, which I had overlooked entirely so far, as it was very

faintly marked. With satisfaction I saw that I had kept my direction

admirably; but it was annoying to perceive that my course had lain

parallel to it all the time, probably never more than a mile away.

Making for the village, only about twenty minutes ahead, I could in

good time reach a desolate, high plateau, where cover very likely could

be found.

 

In Heiden, a compact little village, my footfalls rang loudly in the

cobbled streets. There was no sign of life about the place, and special

precautions seemed entirely superfluous. I walked past the church and

struck right into the high road I was looking for, which was easily

recognizable by its direction and the fact that it began immediately to

ascend the plateau.

 

The worst of my troubles over for the night, the fact that I was tired,

not so much muscularly as mentally, became only too apparent as I

trudged along. I started talking to myself, imitating tricks of speech

of my late companions at the sanatorium, and making up whole dialogues.

This continued as long as I followed the turnpike mechanically,

although I was perfectly aware of the absurdity of my behavior and

tried to stop it.

 

The sky was now paling in the east, and about two miles out of Heiden I

started to look for cover. For three quarters of an hour I kept leaving

the road for likely-looking woods, always to find farmhouses concealed

behind them.

 

Several times, while I was standing among the trees, and peering

anxiously about me, white-robed figures appeared to execute weird

dances between the trunks, only to dissolve into nothing on my approach

to investigate them. Friends of mine had similar experiences to relate,

when later on we met in prison and swapped yarns about our adventures.

 

The light was increasing apace, when a tall pine wood loomed up on my

left. Bursting through the bushes fringing it, I proceeded a little way

in, until I came to a deep, dry ditch marking its margin, and fairly

effectively concealed by bushes. I had the fir woods on my left; on my

right was a patch of land bounded by a wire fence and grown over by

small firs and thornless furze. A little farther up, some of the furze

had been cut and was lying on the ground. An examination of the stumps

showed them black and weathered; there was no sign of recent work.

Beyond the wire fence, and across a plowed field, a farm lay more than

half concealed in its orchard.

 

Gathering as much as I could of the furze in my arms, I carried it to

a place where the ditch was particularly deep and well concealed. Two

trips sufficed to provide me with the necessary amount. Arranging the

furze in the approved fashion, lengthways and across, I soon had an

excellent spring-mattress in the bottom of the ditch. Undressing, I

donned the dry sweater next my skin, and put all the garments I had by

me over it, for the air was bitingly cold.

 

A last deep draft from the water-bottle, a careful wriggle to get on my

couch, and I fell asleep instantly.

 

* * * * *

 

I awoke without a start, and with every sense alert, after barely

two hours, wonderfully refreshed and not in the least stiff. The sun

was low in the sky and shone like a big red disk through the morning

mist. Pale-golden shafts of light penetrated into the pillared hall

underneath the dark green dome of the majestic firs. It was very cold,

but to me it appeared only like the refreshing sting of a cold bath.

Without going to sleep again, I lay motionless, every muscle relaxed,

while the sun climbed higher. As it did so, the air grew warmer, the

scent of the pines became stronger, while the earthy smell of the

ground suggested the new life of spring and the stirring of sap in the

growths around me.

 

Toward eleven, an early bumble-bee paid me a visit of inspection, and

took himself off again after the bungling fashion of his tribe. The

cooing of wood-pigeons close to me assured me of my perfect solitude.

Once a kestrel flashed across the ditch and disappeared with a startled

twist of wings and tail on catching sight of me. The roar of guns miles

away seemed louder and louder, but the sound was not near enough to

merit any attention on my part.

 

When the ditch was in the full light of the sun, I rolled out of my

coverings to spend a most glorious day in perfect contentment, eating a

little, husbanding my water as well as I could, smoking, and looking at

my maps. The next night I hoped would see me across the border. I meant

to pass through a village about four miles down the road, and--but

that does not matter. What mattered was that I forgot that the day was

Saturday, and that people would be likely to remain about much longer

than on ordinary week-days.

 

The shadows were meeting in the shelter of the woods when I worked

my way back to the road. Tiny night-prowlers were already following

their business and either scampered noisily away, or froze into the

immobility of fear, as my clumsy feet crashed through their domain.

From behind some bushes close to it I watched the white ribbon of the

road until it was almost blotted out by the darkness, and then set

forth.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER VII

 

FAILURE

 

 

My water-bottle wanted filling. A spring bubbling up by the roadside

gave me the opportunity. That was a mile or so down the road. I had

got again into the swinging stride of the night before, and the few

miles to the village of Vehlen were soon covered. A sudden turn of the

road near it brought me opposite a building looking like a flour-mill.

An electric light was blazing at its corner. On the other side of the

road its rays were reflected by the oily ripples on a large pond, the

farther side of which was hidden in the darkness.

 

Perhaps the strain and loneliness of the last few days were telling

upon me without my being aware of it. At any rate, I did not realize

that the light was a danger-signal flaunted by Providence into my very

face. It never occurred to me that on seeing it I ought to get off

the road at once and work around the village across-country. Instead,

with the experience of last night at the back of my mind, I held on

stubbornly and never realized my folly until I was fairly in the main

street.

 

Most of the houses were lighted and a number of street lamps going.

Several people were passing between houses. It was too late to turn

back when I saw what I had done. Two old men in front of me, whom I

had caught up with, caused me to adapt my pace to theirs so as not to

pass them. They turned a corner, I after them, when from the opposite

direction a bicycle appeared. The rays of its lamp blinded me. I dared

not look back when it had passed, but hurried on as fast as I could

short of running. After an eternity of a few minutes somebody jumped

off a bicycle at my shoulder, having come up noiselessly from behind. He touched me.