FourFifty Miles to Freedom 4

FourFifty Miles to Freedom 4

The final method was simple, yet perfectly effective for smuggling

news into a country such as Turkey. It consisted of pasting together

two thin post-cards, the gummed portion being confined to a border

of about an inch in width round the edges. The central rectangle so

left ungummed was available for the secret message, which was written

very small on the two inner faces of the cards before they were

stuck together. Further space for writing was obtainable by adding

another slip of paper of the size of the rectangle, and including this

within the cards when gumming them up. After being pressed, the final

post-card was trimmed so as to leave no sign of the join. The position

of the rectangle containing the message was indicated on the address

side by at first two lines, and later by the smallest possible dots

at the corners. Well over a score of such cards must have passed from

England into Turkey, and more than half that number in the reverse

direction, without discovery ever being made by our captors. In the

camp, to avoid the risk of being overheard talking about "split

post-cards" by one of the interpreters, these cards were known as

"bananas"--an apt name, as you had to skin them to get at the real

fruit inside!

 

This explains the method by which it was possible to suggest the

aeroplane scheme to the home authorities.

 

Unfortunately it used to take at least four months to receive a

reply to a letter. For this reason we could not afford to wait until

a definite date was communicated to us, so we ourselves named the

first fifteen days of May as suitable for us, and agreed, from 6 to 8

A.M. on each of these days, to remain in a state of instant

readiness to seize the barracks should an aeroplane appear. For the

sake of secrecy, the details of the _coup de main_ itself were left to

be worked out by a small committee, and the report spread amongst the

rest of the camp that the scheme had been dropped. The true state of

affairs would not be divulged until a few days before the first of May.

 

The committee's plan was this. There were at Changri 47 officers and

28 orderlies--a total force of 75 unarmed men with which to take over

the barracks. Our guard, all told, numbered 70 men. At any one time

during daylight there were seven Turkish sentries on duty: one outside

each corner of the barracks, one inside the square which had an open

staircase at each corner, one at the arched entrance in the centre of

the north face, while the seventh stood guard over the commandant's

office. This was a room in the upper storey over the archway and facing

on to the square.

 

On each side of the commandant's office, therefore, were the barrack

rooms inhabited by the British officers, and to go from one side to the

other it was necessary to pass the sentry standing at his post on the

landing in between. From here a flight of steps gave on to the road

through the main archway; on the other side of this again, and facing

the stairs, was the door of the ground-floor barrack room used by our

guard. This room was similar to those in the upper storey already

described, and we found out by looking through a hole made for the

purpose in the floor of the room above, and by casual visits when we

wanted an escort for the bazaar, that the rifles of the occupants were

kept in a row of racks on either side of the central passage-way.

 

By 6 A.M. on each morning of the first fifteen days of May

every one was to be dressed, but those who had no specific job to do

were to get back into bed again in case suspicion should be caused in

the mind of any one who happened to come round. The aeroplanes, if

they came, would arrive from the south. Two look-out parties of three,

therefore, were to be at their posts by 6 A.M., one in the

officers' mess in the S.E., and the other in the Padre's room next to

the chapel in the S.W. corner of the barracks.

 

The staircases at these two corners of the square were to be watched

by two officers told off for the purpose, one in each half of the

north wing. When the look-outs in the south wing had either distinctly

heard or seen an aeroplane, they were to come to their staircase and

start walking down it into the square. Our look-outs in the north wing

would warn the others in their rooms to get ready, and the officer who

had the honour of doing verger to the Padre, and who used to ring a

handbell before services, would run down the north-eastern staircase

and walk diagonally across the square towards the chapel, ringing the

bell for exactly thirty seconds.

 

The stopping of the bell was to be the signal for simultaneous action.

The sentry on the landing could be easily disposed of by three

officers; most of the rest were to run down certain staircases, cross

the archway, dash into the barrack room and get hold of all the rifles,

a small party at the same moment tackling the sentry at the main

entrance.

 

On seeing the rush through the archway the look-out parties from the

south wing would overpower the sentry in the square. The arms belonging

to the three sentries and one other rifle were to be immediately taken

to the corners of the barracks and the outside sentries covered. The

orderlies, under an officer, would meanwhile form up in the square as a

reserve.

 

Surprise was to be our greatest ally, and we hoped that, within a

minute of the bell stopping, the barracks would be in our hands.

 

Having herded our Turkish guard into a big cellar and locked them in,

we would then signal to the aeroplanes that the barracks were in our

possession by laying out sheets in the square; while small picquets,

armed with Turkish rifles and ammunition, would see to it that the

aeroplanes on landing would be unmolested from the village. We are

still convinced that the plan would have succeeded.

 

Even those in the know, however, put little faith in the probability

of the aeroplane scheme being carried out, realising that the machines

necessary for such an enterprise were not likely to be available from

the main battle-fronts. Preparations, therefore, continued for working

out our own salvation, as though this plan for outside help had not

entered our heads. With the first signs of spring the tunnel scheme

began to take concrete form.

 

As already mentioned in the description of the barracks, the ground

to the west rose gently up to the Angora road. In this slope was a

shallow, cup-like depression at a distance of forty yards from the

building. If only a convenient point for starting a tunnel could

be found in the nearest wall, the cup would form an ideal spot for

breaking through to the surface. A night reconnaissance was made in

the downstairs room on the western side of the barracks. As a result

of this there seemed a likelihood that under the whole of the platform

in this room we should find a hollow space varying from one to three

feet in depth. If the surmise were correct and a tunnel could be run

out from here, there would be no difficulty in getting rid of all the

excavated earth into this hollow space. Unfortunately the lower room,

though not in use, was kept locked.

 

It was discovered, however, that the walls of the barracks consisted

of an outer and inner casing, each a foot thick, and built of large

sun-dried bricks, the space between being filled up with a mixture of

rubble, mortar, and earth, and a few larger stones. This was in the

bottom storey. Above that the construction of the wall changed to two

thicknesses of lath and plaster attached to either side of a timber

framing, and the thickness of the wall diminished to only nine inches.

The total width of the wall below was five feet; therefore the lockers

in the upper room were immediately above the rubble core of the heavier

wall. It would thus be possible to get down through the lockers and

sink a shaft through the rubble to a trifle below the level of the

ground, and from there to break through the inner casing and come into

the empty space below the ground-floor.

 

Work was commenced in the middle of February 1918. For the next few

weeks an officer was usually to be seen lolling about at either end of

the first-floor rooms, and, on the approach of an interpreter or other

intruder, would stroll leisurely down the passage, whistling the latest

ragtime melody.

 

Within the room all would now be silent; but when the coast was again

clear there could perhaps be seen in the barrack room a pair of weird

figures, strangely garbed and white with dust. Somewhere in the line of

lockers was the entrance to the shaft-head. The locker doors being only

a foot square were too small to admit a man, and so the top planks at

the place where we wished to work had been levered up and fitted with

hinges to form a larger entrance. To give additional room inside, the

partition between two consecutive lockers was also removed; the floor

of one locker and the joists supporting the platform at this point were

then cut away, and we were free to commence the shaft.

 

For this job six officers were chosen, of whom three belonged to our

escape party. The six were divided into three reliefs, and each worked

for two hours at a time. The hole was of necessity only just large

enough for one man to work there, so of the pair one did the digging,

while his partner, when the shaft had progressed a little, sat inside

the locker at the top of the hole. When actually at work, the time

went quickly enough; but sitting in the locker was very wearisome,

as one's only duties were to pass on the alarm when the ragtime was

whistled, and from time to time to draw up by a rope the small sacks

filled by the digger. When all the available sacks were full, work was

stopped, and the two would emerge from the locker. The sacks of rubbish

were then carried a few yards along the room and emptied into a space

underneath some planks which had been loosened in the platform. At the

end of their relief, the two would go off to change their clothes,

leaving the work to be continued by the next pair.

 

During the time spent in the locker, one of the six learnt 'Omar

Khayyám' by heart. Reading a book was almost impossible owing to the

lack of light; even if it had been permissible, in view of the risk

of the reader becoming so interested as to miss the signal of the

alarm. 'Omar,' however, was a different thing. A verse could be read

line by line at the streak of light entering by a chink in one of the

ill-fitting locker doors, and then committed to memory--not a very

engrossing task, but it helped to pass the time.

 

The working kit was a light one: a shirt and "shorts," sand-shoes,

and a Balaclava cap. Round his mouth the digger usually tied a

handkerchief, so as not to swallow his peck of dust at one time, while

the cap prevented his hair and ears getting quite full of rubbish.

 

Let us work for one relief. You are dressed for the occasion. The

tools, consisting of two chisels, are at the bottom of the hole, which

is, say, twelve feet deep. A couple of candles and a box of matches is

all you need take with you. It is your turn to dig. You get into the

locker and climb down the rope-ladder as quickly as possible, but you

must take care not to touch the outer casing of the wall as you go, or

you may find yourself staring at an astonished sentry outside: there

are already a few holes in the wall through which daylight can be seen.

 

The candle lighted, you have a look round: but this is absurd! No one

has done any work since you were down there yesterday morning. That

beastly stone in the corner looks as tightly embedded in the mortar as

it was then. You bend down to pick up a chisel and you bump your head

against a projecting brick. You try to sit down, but there is not

enough room to sit and work at the same time. You try kneeling, but

it can't be done. After twisting your limbs in a hitherto undreamt-of

fashion you begin to chip away at the mortar round your old friend.

Nothing seems to happen; then suddenly your candle falls down and goes

out, leaving your chamber of little ease in Stygian darkness.

 

You think you hear your partner say "Stop!" and you look up just in

time to get your eyes full of grit, for he has merely shifted his legs,

which are dangling above you. After untying yourself you relight the

candle and again get down to the stone. You pick and scrape and prise,

and then as the chisel slips you bark your knuckles; and so you go on.

All sense of time is lost, and your one thought is to get that stone

out. Now it moves. You work with redoubled energy, with the result

that you break into a profuse perspiration. How you hate that stone!

Finally up it comes when you don't expect it, and the bruise at the

back of your head is nothing compared to the joy of the victor, which is equally yours.